"It is only because we are weak that we revenge ourselves; it is only when our heart is arid and our intellect contracted, that we do not pardon. Nations have an admirable instinct in detecting those weaknesses; the voice that first pronounced that dead men tell no tales, propagated a cruel error. The most dangerous enemies a man can have, are those whom he has deprived of life."

'One day a plan of escape was proposed to him: "I might accept your offer," said he," if my sentence were just and legal ; but as it is, I am well pleased with it, and would deprive it of none of its effects. Who cares about the iniquity of a sentence, when its execution is eluded? Were I to accede to your wishes, I should destroy its wickedness by my own fault; I should almost efface its injustice by putting an end to its operation. I must remain here, to bear daily testimony of its violence; it is right that my sufferings should be prolonged, that they may imprint upon my existence a deep and lasting memory. It is for them upon whom its responsibility weighs to get rid of me if they can. I shall certainly not save them the trouble.

"Besides, my children, reflect a moment. Plans of this description are not executed without exposing to some risk those who favor them. God forbid that I should ever expose any one to the least danger! The few years I have to live are not worth such a price.

"The greatest philosopher of antiquity refused to escape even from death. So noble a determination would, at present, perhaps elicit surprise. True, it is scarcely comprehensible; and who would even imagine that it could be imitated in these days? But, without aspiring to such an act of heroism, which I least of any have the pretension of doing, I may nevertheless take from this example, that which is suited to an humble life and an ordinary courage."

Sometimes Count Richard would relate facts connected with the history of the castle, such as his grandfather was wont to entertain him with.

*

"Ham," said he at another time," was one of the places on the banks of the Somne, engaged by the treaty of Arras, to Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, and which that prince, equitable as he is represented, had no wish to restore, al though he was repaid the four hundred thousand crowns of gold which he had advanced. This became a great subject of dissension and ill-will between hin and the artful Louis XI. What a king was this Louis XI. What a strange and indescribable compound of contradiction was this monarch! He was lauded, censured, dreaded and despised, all at the same time. He threw off, after the manner of the times, the yoke which the nobles tried to fix upon his neck; he made use of the people without subjecting himself to them, and of religion without its preventing the commission of a single crime. He was a politician, though superstitious; or rather he was superstitious because he was a politician. It was said of him that he wanted courage; but it was forgotten with what bravery he had fought before Liege, and at Montlhery. He bears the odium of the snares into which he drew Charles the Bold, without placing in the opposite scale the criminal league against him, or the poisoner Hardy sent by his vassal of Burgun dy to de stroy him. On the suspicious evidence of Brantome, the death of his brother is rashly imputed to him, although the latter died seven months after the supposed period of his being poisoned; and made a will a few days before his death, appointing Louis XI. then absent, his heir. Louis was parsimonious, cruel, implacable; but he once repented not having pardoned. He was an unnatural son, and a bad father. He took vengeance, by the death of Agnes, of the influence won by her beauty, and punished by an atrocious death, the doubtful crime of Nemours. He was a king according to the spirit of his people and of the age in which he lived; displaying still more ability in adverse fortune than in prosperity. If he laid many snares for others, many were also laid for him. He never made a mistake but at Peronne; he put an end to the invasions of the English, acquired Provence, recovered Burgundy, obtained by inheritance Anjou and Maine, brought under his control Guienne and Normandy, and prepared the union of Brittany with France, which was effected by his successors. In fine, he was great by the great things he effected-but despicable from the culpable means he employed."

To these my grandfather added other details. "Vade," said he, " was born at

Ham. He was a free and easy writer of songs, at a period when songs were only gay and pretty. Beranger had not yet made them serious and beautiful.

But Ham has still a higher claim to celebrity, for it is the birth-place of General Foy. I knew him well; I have often seen him, and had long conversations with him, far from the tumult of popular assemblies. I know not, if he were now in being, whether he would do me the same justice as he did then ; but for my part, I shall ever render him the tribute due to his high character. He was a man of talent and sincerity, who followed only from afar those who influenced his opinions. He was perhaps the only one among the many orators of the same party, who was not below the reputation he had acquired. ***

"An Earl of Oxford, a brave and loyal servant of the house of Lancaster, was eleven years a prisoner in the castle of Ham. He escaped at last, accompanied by the governor, Sir Walter Blount, whom he had succeeded in seducing. This was the same Earl of Oxford who fought so valiantly for Henry and Margaret at the terrible battle of Barnet, and who would have won the day, had it not been lost by a fatal mistake of the Earl of Warwick. But the fortress in which he so cruelly expiated his fidelity, was not, as is supposed, the castle of Ham, situated on the banks of the Somme. The historian is wrong; it was another castle of the same name.

"There exists a tradition in the country, that an unfortunate capauchin friar, whose crime has always remained unknown, lived many years in a narrow dungeon in the tower, and died there with a great reputation for sanctity. The faithful long went to pray by the side of the stone which served for his pillow; and female votaries touched it with their garments. This was a simple and affecting devotion, paid to misfortune; and a marvellous virtue was attributed to it, and not without reason.

"Another tradition is prevalent, of more recent date and less uncertain in its details. A young man of the name of Lautrec, handsome, ardent, and formed for extremes-qualified for excess of virtue or excess of vice-had met with a young girl, graceful and handsome as himself, but chaste, pious, full of candor and modesty. Lautrec loved her with the whole ardor of his soul-with furious and extravagant passion. The young girl was also surprised by love; but her love, though strong, was pure and innocent..

"Her condition was obscure, and she had no fortune to make up for it. He for a time imagined that her love for him would overcome her virtue. He was mistaken. The poor girl, surprised and humiliated at his offers, found an inexhaustible resource in her purity. She would have ceased to love him, had her will alone sufficed.

"Lautrec had no hope of overcoming the pride of his father, and therefore did not attempt it. The useless passion which consumed him, became a deepseated and obstinate disease. The hue of health fled from his cheeks, his features became thin and sharp, and his eyes lost their brilliancy. He lived apart, gloomy, morose, and taciturn. He scarcely heard those who addressed him, and replied only with moans.

"Lautrec had an uncle, still young, who had arrived at the highest dignities in the church, and had always evinced great affection for him. This uncle remarked the change in his person and character, and put many pressing questions to him. The young man eluded and dissembled; but the uncle, in nowise discouraged, continued his importunities. Lautrec, yielding at length, allowed his secret to escape.

"The morals of this period were not of the purest kind; and it was not usual to treat love so seriously. The uncle undertook to plead for his nephew. He saw the young girl, and exhausted every artifice, every means to shake her res olution. Sometimes he besought her, for Lautrec's sake to renounce her love for him, in order that the object of her affection might be freed from an engagement which was fast destroying him. At others, he offered, if love were not sufficient, to add immense wealth, as an indemnity for the sacrifice he solicited for his nephew. Another time, seeing that her affection was so deeply rooted, that she had not the courage to sacrifice it, he offered her advice of another kind; giving her to understand, that any hope of a legal union being impossible, she had no remedy but to yield, if she could not conquer her passion.

"But the virtue of the young girl was not less strong than her affection. The inflexible simplicity of her youthful mind defeated every attempt to undermine her principles. The heart of the uncle was shaken in its turn, and a perverse, dreadful, and fatal idea took possession of his mind. He had attempted to seduce, but was himself seduced. So much beauty had overcome him-such extraordinary virtue had excited in him the most uncontrollable passion. The unhappy man felt the power of love, and dared to disclose it. A cry of horror and alarm was the only answer he received from the young girl;-and he fled in confusion. "At the same instant Lautrec arrived. The object of his love shed abundant tears, and gave marks of the most violent despair. The young man, in affright and trepidation, asked the cause of such agitation. He would know it, and that immediately, without reserve or concealment. At the same time suppliant and imperious, he besought and insisted-wept and commanded. What, under such circumstances, could the poor girl do? Overcome by her own emotion and Lautrec's impetuosity-unable, in her astonishment and indignation, to calculate or foresee the consequences, she suffered some imprudent words to escape her lips, and Lautrec either learned or guessed the treachery of his uncle.

"Thunderstruck, his mind became troubled, and his reason fled. He ran and seized his arms, followed his uncle, found him at the altar, covered with the emblems of his priestly dignity, struck him to the earth, and left him wallowing in his blood.

"A dungeon in the castle of Ham was long the refuge allotted him for his crime and madness. He had been there forty years, when the revolution of 1789 broke out; he was then set at liberty: but forgotten, reputed dead, and disowned by his family, he no longer found food or shelter. The town of Ham took pity upon him, and paid a poor woman to take care of him, and procure him food. He survived his freedom but three months, Perhaps he might have lived longer, if liberty, so long a stranger to him, had not too suddenly broken in upon the habits of life acquired in his dungeon.

"But if the revolution deprived the castle of Ham of some of its inmates, it soon supplied their places with other victims. The time came when the Convention, trying its harsh and monstrous justice upon its own members, got rid in one day of Barrere, Billaud-Varennes, and Collet-d'Herbois, by transportation; and of Bourdon, Hugues, Chales, Faussedoisse, Duhem, and Chiodieu, by consigning them to the castle of Ham.

"Soon," continued Count Richard, "this castle received inmates of another character and another rank: certain emigrants driven back to the coast of France by storm-a Vibrage, a Choiseul, and a Montmorency, victims before ourselves of civil discord-and who were about to suffer death for the crime of being shipwrecked, the commutation of which punishment only changed the species of iniquity committed by the government, which had dared to order its infliction.

Almost at the same period came that other victim, the same Prince Polignac, whom fate has again brought hither; an unhappy prince, whom an inexorable fatality seems to pursue. He was then implicated in the catastrophe of Moreau, Pichegru, and George Cadoudal; he has since been implicated in still greater misfortunes. He began life with a long captivity, and has again become a captive in his declining years."

'The old Count's memory was inexhaustible. The recollections of Ham pleased him. There was one point, however, upon which no one presumed to ask him any questions. He had often begun the recital of the actions of his unfortunate grandfather, and each time he had undertaken it, his emotion had prevented him from procceding. An agitation of this kind was now considered too dangerous for his advanced age. But one day, the youngest of his grandchildren having innocently exclaimed, "But grandpapa, the history of our great-greatgrandfather."Ah! true, I will tell it to you. But what need is there of many words? This history is written, dear child. I composed and wrote it. It is engraved upon the stone which covers the remains of that man so madly cursed and prosecuted. You must visit his old and modest tombstone. It is a pious pilgrimage, which children ought to undertake, and which brings them good fortune. Kneel and meditate when you are near it. Do as I have so often done:

pull the moss from the stone; and if impious hands have not perpetrated upon it such mutilations as I have seen elsewhere, you will find what you seek-you will read this short epitaph, which contains the whole history of the chief of your family:

PROSCRIBED

BECAUSE HE WAS FAITHFUL,

AND CONDEMNED

AS IF HE HAD NOT BEEN SO.

LIFE OF BALBOA.*

Columbus had first seen land in the new world on the 12th of October, 1492, when he landed on the island of Guanahani, after a voyage of little more than two months, he having sailed from the port of Palos in Spain on the 3d of August. It was six years later, when he surveyed the coast of the continent by Paria and Cumana. With the nobler mind of Columbus, territory was the grand object, and colonization the means. With the fierce and narrow spirit of the times, gold was the object, and the sword the means. But the natives of the islands first discovered were found poor; their gold was chiefly confined to the ornaments of their persons. The Spaniards who landed on the continent were equally disappointed. They saw before them a magnificent country, yet nearly in a state of nature, vast forests, mighty rivers, ranges of mountains; all the features of a dominion wide enough for the widest ambition of conquest, or the richest enjoyment of life; but no treasure. Still their avarice was kept in a perpetual fever by the Indian stories of gold in profusion, farther to the west, and beyond a sea which stretched to the extremities of the globe. Yet all the various expeditions which were sent to penetrate into these lands of opulence, were defeated, and the chief part of the adventurers perished by he diseases of the climate, by the inclemency of seasons, alternately the most tremendous storms and the fiercest sunshine, or by the perils of the seas, which to this hour severely try the skill of the seamen. But the empires of the west' were still the cry of the Indians, and fresh troops of daring adventurers hurried forward year by year, to throw away their lives on the swamps and shoals of the New World. Time, however, produced experience, and the vigor of discovery was gradually turned to the means of reaching those golden regions by sea. The Indians persevered in the report, that the nearest access to this great highway to the treasures of America was across the mountain range of Darien, and at length a Spaniard was found bold enough to attempt once more, and fortunate enough to achieve, a task which had baffled so many of his intrepid countrymen, and which was destined to give a well-deserved immortality to his name. Vasco Nunez de Balboa was born at Xeres de los Cabelleros. His family was of the order of Spanish gentry. He commenced his career, at an early age, in that mingled character of trader and soldier, which characterised all the first voyages to America. After some experiments in the general pursuit of wealth, which failed, he settled in Hispaniola,

* Life of Vasco Nunez de Balboa; from the Spanish of Don Manuel Josef Quintana. By Mrs. Hodson. London, 1832.

20*

where he cultivated a farm. But Balboa was not of the order of spirits who are content with the quiet indulgence of life. A new expedition was announced for the west. He determined to follow it. But he was loaded with debt, and the governor had published an express ordinance that no debtor should be suffered to leave the island. Balboa was rolled on board one of the brigantines in a cask, and made his appearance on deck only when the ship was far out at sea. The commander of the expedition was indignant, and threatened to send him back; but Balboa, handsome and active, intelligent and plausible, was not a man to be repelled, in the day when every Spaniard had his value, and he soon rose into favor. A colony had been already established at the celebrated Isthmus, on its eastern side. Balboa within a short period became its governor, and there he distinguished himself by all the talents of command. His position singularly required them. Columbus had found the Islanders a timid and innocent race, being in a state of primitive simplicity. But the adventurers who had pierced the continent often found themselves encountered by daring tribes, with some knowledge of discipline, and sometimes capable of returning their losses by bloody revenge. The tribes which surrounded the colony of Darien were the most daring, disciplined, and vigorous, which the Spaniards had ever met; and nothing but incessant vigilance, and the display of the most desperate intrepidity in the field, could secure the invaders.

It is curious to trace the similitude of these tribes, in customs and conceptions, to the Islanders of the South Sea, who are probably their descendants. The Darien Indians fought with the club, the wooden sword, and the arrow. But they neither poisoned their arrows, nor devoured their prisoners; habits which distinguished them, to their honor, from the Indians stretching along their surrounding coasts. They simply extracted a tooth from the captive, who was thenceforth a slave. Severe wounds in battle rendered the sufferer honorable. He became a noble; and was rewarded with a portion of land, a wife, and rank among their warriors. They had chieftains, to whom they paid a higher deference than was customary among Indians. They had physicians; priests, who delivered a kind of oracles, and a deity, Tuira, whom they worshipped with offerings of bread, fruits, and flowers. They built houses of curious workmanship. Their chieftains wore mantels of cotton. They lived much on fish; and both sexes were remarkable for their skill in swimming, and their fondness for the exercise.

The darker side of the picture, in which, however, the similitude still holds, was the moral corruption of the people. Abortion, procured by herbs, was common. Drunkenness, by a liquor extracted from maize, was a favorite vice; and parties for dancing and intoxication were the great delight of the people. The dead were preserved from decay by drying the remains, and were placed in a room dedicated to the purpose, with their ornaments and arms. A dance, or perhaps a society for the dance, called arieto, was national and licentious; and combined with this mixture of savage good and evil, and throwing some color of European civilization over all, was the remarkable courtesy of the people. Indian rumors of the golden country continued to inflame the Spaniards, and all hearts were at length stimulated to attempt the conquest of a king, Dabaibe, who was said to be living in a city filled with treasure, and who worshipped an idol of solid gold. Distance, disease, mountains covered with eternal snows, and oceans tossed by perpetual storms, could not now restrain the adventurers; and Balboa put