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married state. Far be it from me to insinuate here, that matrimony is an object to be dreaded on these accounts; neither would I by any means deter man from entering upon it; but, on the contrary, would recommend the union of two kindred souls, ever anxious to promote each other's happiness, as the highest pitch of human felicity. Love will make such a slavery delightful, will deem no sacrifice too great to augment the pleasures of the beloved object.

Hence, then, we consider the love of woman to be the more powerful passion, and consequently possesses greater influence over the actions of men. And that however deep the love of liberty may be rooted in the human heart, and whatever sacrifices a man may make for the enjoyment of it, he will make much greater, and even immolate liberty herself, at the shrine of the beloved object.

Lonaon, June 20, 1909.

C.S.

EDMUND DE WATTEVILLE. A NOR-
MAN TALE. Translated from the
GERMAN.

For the Universal Magazine.
THE
HE evening began to close, and
the lowering clouds threatened
an approaching storm, while the keen
Borth wind, which whistled through
the leafless branches of the forest,
presented an aspect of desolation to
the weary traveller. To a mind less
hardy than that of EDMUND's, this
would have been sufficient to deter
from braving its united horrors by
entering, that night, the immense
wood which now stretched before
him. But he was impelled by a mo-
tive superior to any consideration of
personal danger; all subordinate ap-
prehensions were absorbed in the
greater one of being too late to stop a
dreadful sacrifice to resentment.

deed which would be perpetrated should he be later. Let us then leave him for a while pursuing his journey, and take a retrospect of the events which had occurred previously to the present juncture.

Edmund de Watteville was the only son of an opulent Norman lord, and he was, consequently, the peculiar object of paternal solicitude and affection. He was educated according to the received modes of his age; and, in conformity to the popular opinion, was taught to consider military prowess as the highest attainable excellence of man. The softer arts of life, and the polish which fits an individual for the more gentle intercourse of society, were entirely neglected; feats of arms, tournaments, battles, sieges, distressed damsels, and infuriate tyrants, glowed in his youthful bosom, and gave a romantic ardour to his thoughts, which held forth a promise of future excellence, beyond what even a fond parent could wish for. He was early distinguished by a spirit of resistance, and a sanguinary severity of resentment, which, in that age, bore the false appellations of While magnanimity and honour. yet a youth he had signalized himself at the head of a few chosen men, by repelling the attack of a desperate banditti on the estate of a neighbouring lord. But as he advanced in years, his courage became gradually hardened into desperate ferocity, and warlike force obtained for him what might be denied to justice or entreaty.

His father, though he beheld with admiration the martial qualities of his son, yet often reflected with anxiety upon the impetuosity of his temper, which, united with such qualities, might, he feared, lead to the most fatal consequences. Sometimes, indeed, he would endeavour to awaken in the mind of Edmund a sense of the Thus incited, he spurred his willing necessity of curbing his passions; steed, and entered at once the gloomy but his admonitions were ineffectual, track which lay before him. Un- and often drew from the youth some conscious, or fearless of danger, be bitter taunt or sarcastic reflection.— omitted the precaution of loading the "You must be sensible," he would fire-arms which he had about him; often observe, "how little can be he was anxious only to reach the gained by coercion. Force will be Chateau de Rouligne, yet twenty repelled by force, and insult by inleagues distant, ere sun rise the next sult; and though superior numbers morning; for he knew the horrid or courage may for a time enable UNIVERSAL MAG, VOL. XIL

B

you to remain triumphant, yet the injury which is unprovoked can never be forgotten; and those whom you despoil to-day, may in their turn to morrow despoil you. Remember, that warfare is not the peculiar right of one man; it is the privilege of all; and he, who, by petty depredations and wanton insults, makes every man his enemy, must expect one day to become the victim of every man's revenge. I would teach you, that forbearance alone can command respect, happiness, or safety; and that a promptitude to support justice, to redress grievances, and to protect virtue, should be united with a heart formed for social happiness, and an understanding willing to discriminate between rectitude and obliquity."

These cautions, however, had but Jittle effect upon the conduct of Edmund. He still gloried in recounting how many had fallen by his arm, and what new attempts he purposed making upon the property of others. His anxious sire beheld with affliction how obnoxious he every day became to the surrounding nobles, and foresaw that a few months would inevitably involve him in that ruin which his profligate son was hourly accumulating over his head. Reduced to the last extremity, he resolved to use coercive measures, and however painful to his feelings, yet the general safety of himself and family demanded that he should restrain his licentious conduct. He therefore compelled him to keep within the bounds of his own domain, and by dismissing all his retainers, he reduced him to the necessity of abandoning, at least for a time, his predatory conduct. The fiery youth raged, in vain, at this decree; imperious circumstances demanded it, and the father yielded to no entreaties.

of a murdered father. Giving the rein, one day, to his sanguinary passion, he exclaimed, "Oh Nature! why didst thou not give me power equal to my will? Why was I not rather the aspiring offspring of a regal sire, than of him whom the world now calls my father? I would have been familiar with slaughter, ere the dawn of manhood bloomed upon my cheek. Groans of death should have been the most pleasing music to my ears, and I would have glutted my sight with the writhings of condemned victims, when drops of agony stood upon their brow, and their whole frame shook with the tremblings of convulsed nature.These should have been my delight: these must be it.-I cannot calm the phrenzy of mind which pants for pleasures congenial to its feelings!"

Such depravity could be restrained by no common means. But he had hypocrisy equal to his other passions, and he at length assumed an apparent tranquillity of mind and deportment, which easily deceived the willing father, who was anxious to believe what he had long wished. Several days elapsed in this manner, during which frequent conversations took place between them. Nothing now appeared which could excite the smallest suspicion as to the truth of the change, and he was finally restored to that perfect liberty which his licentiousness had forfeited.

It was now that he began to reflect how he should resume his former conduct, and yet not expose himself to similar consequences. His retainers were dismissed, his expenses were retrenched, and his actions watched with unceasing attention. Thus circumstanced, he felt it necessary to lull every fear asleep by a continuance of his peaceable During this restriction many fruit- deportment. He appeared, therefore, less attempts were made to soften the to enjoy with all possible zest the ferocity of his nature, and to lead him conversation and amusements of his back to reason and humanity. He family. He would often join in the resisted them all by a sullen silence, chace of the wild boar with his fawhich he never broke except when alone. Then, sometimes, he expiated upon the scenes of blood which he would one day triumph in; and often in the height of his savage exultation at imaginary sacrifices, he would dare to intermingle the ideal groans

ther and the other neighbouring noblemen, and partake with them its various amusements. His evenings he spent in domestic enjoyments, and in the placid occupations of the female part of his family. His mother, ever anxious for the welfare of

Such was the close deception young Edmund was enabled to carry on by his consummate art. But the day was not far distant when all these bright prospects were to be destroyed, and all the fondest hopes of his parents for ever buried.

her children, beheld with unfeigned public intimation of an intended tourrapture this apparent change in her nament to be held in the castle on son, while her daughter Julia de the marriage of his youngest daughter, Watteville, an interesting girl, now Emily de Lancy, to the young Count in her eighteenth year, yet hoped she Marino. Every preparation was mind find a future protection in him made to unite splendour with hospiwhen her parents were no more. tality. Among the illustrious visitors on the occasion were the Baron de Watteville and his family. A greater display of military prowess was expected on this occasion than, perhaps, had ever before dignified the nuptials of any nobleman. Every knight was anxious to retrieve former losses, or to increase former glories. Those who had reaped the highest renown in the field of battle were yet willing to increase it on the present occasion; those who had scarcely ever wielded hostile arins, felt an ambition to become illustrious among the illustrious. Such general ardour was, perhaps, never before excited on a similar occurrence; but the Baron's known liberality, munificence, and hospitality, were such as inspired the coldest bosoms with a desire to distinguish themselves.

Among the various noblemen who possessed estates in the spacious forest of Ardennes, was the Baron de Lancy, a man of immense possessions and splendid fortune. His magnificence kept pace with his opulence, and he frequently held justs and tournaments in his castle, to which he invited all those whom rank, fortune, or military glory had raised to distinction. On these occasions it was customary for all the most celebrated ladies to be present, and to bestow, after the combat, the meed of victory on the hero who remained Amid this general anticipation of triumphant. Such an assemblage of future glory, young Edmund was not beauty usually inspired the comba- inactive. Other motives than the tants with more than common ar- mere impulse of renown actuated his dour; and many a knight would ra- bosom: he had, himself, formerly ther die upon the field, than suffer advanced his pretensions to the hand his opponent to receive the guerdon. of Emily. The offer was rejected Female ideas were not, in that rough with some degree of contempt on her period, of so delicate a cast as now; part, and with coolness on that of the they could then behold with few Baron's. But Edmund, unused to emotions of terror, or even pity, the brook contradiction, or to be repulsed farious clash of arms and streaming in the pursuit of any object he had gashes of the warlike combatants; once assimilated to his mind as neanxious only for the safety of him cessary to his happiness, persisted in whom they had honoured, from mo- his importunities till they became tives of affection, with marks of their disgusting to the one and insolent to esteem. The revolting sentiments the other. Finding it impossible to which, in this enlightened age, would advance his suit with any prospect of possess the mind of every British success, he, as usual, determined to fair, at the sanguinary scenes of employ force and art to effect his slaughter which were then prevalent, designs. He justly suspected a rival would be painful beyond sufferance; to be the cause of his rejection, and and it is, perhaps, not asserting too the very idea was sufficient to awaken much to say, that they now feel more in his bosom the most hateful passympathy and generous anxiety at sions. Resolved to ascertain the the fictitious representations of the truth of his suspicions, he began to theatre, than the ancient warlike devise means by which to arrive at dames did at the sanguinary conflicts that certainty. Bribery, he knew, of romantic ardour. was one effectual method, and some

To return, however, to the subject times the shortest. This he tried, of my narrative. It happened, about and played off his golden artillery this period, that the Baron had given upon the feeble resistance of a do

mestic in the Baron de Lancy's service. This man, whose name was Gasparo, he allured over to his interests, and made him instrumental in his designs, not only of ascertaining

the fact, but of revenging it when

ascertained.

Having, by the intervention of this faithless servant, gained admission secretly into the garden, he concealed himself behind some trees, so that he might be unobserved, and yet watch all the motions of those whom he suspected. He had learned that it was their principal amusement, in an evening, to walk and discourse on themes of love and future bliss. Edmund, like another Satan, resolved, though he could not himself enjoy, yet to blast the enjoyments of others, and he wished to learn who this suc

cessful rival was, that he might sacrifice him, not to his jealousy, but to his sanguinary passions. His actions did not proceed from the feelings of an injured man, wounded in that peace of heart which a beloved mistress alone could give; they were the result of a more than fiend-like ferocity, which murdered the happiness

it could not reach.

He waited impatiently for their approach; and his impatience height ened his resentment. At length he heard the distant murmur of voices; they drew nearer, and he perceived, indistinctly, forms approaching. The tumult of his soul arose; and as they approached, irresolute and weak, he knew not how to act; whether to rush like a lion on his unguarded victim, or to dog him to a place of more convenient sacrifice. While he was thus debating within himself, they approached nearly opposite the spot where he lay concealed: their conversation was now distinct, and, before he could justly discriminate who they were, the following words caught his eager attention :-"I tell you, Edmund never shall possess her; my dagger should sooner drink his heart's blood, than he disgrace my family by an alliance." As these words were uttered, they turned into another path, and were out of sight

in a moment.

[To be continued.]

VOYAGE from PORT JACKSON to
PRINCE OF WALES'S ISLAND.-
Extracted from the Letters of a
Lady.

W Thursday evening, the 21st

E sailed from Port Jackson on

New South Wales corps, their wives
of April, 1803, with a division of the
and children, a number of prisoners
with their families, and a quantity of
stores, for Norfolk island. The nuna-
ber of our officers was the same as
when we left England, with the ad-
dition of a second lieutenant. The
greatest regularity is observed, and
ful, and happy.
every one appears comfortable, cheer-

Our passage to Norfolk island was
boisterous and tedious. Anne was as
sea-sick as ever, and confined to her
We
bed almost the whole way.
arrived off the island on Sunday
morning, May the 8th. The cutter
immediately
and jolly-boat were
hoisted out, and the passengers land-
ed at Carcade with great expedition,
notwithstanding there was no vestige
remaining of a wharf that had been
Constructed there, and the surf made
landing on the rocks very unsafe.-
Although I received, by the return
of the boats, a terrific account of the
dangers attending the passage over a
long, narrow plank, placed over a
chasm in the rocks, a fall from which
would be inevitable destruction, my
desire to go on shore predominated
over every fear, and a few hours
afterwards I obtained a reluctant per-
mission to land. Equipping myself
therefore in a habit, whilst Nauny
put up a few things in a trunk, I
reconciled my darling boy to my ab-
sence, by promises of the fine things
I should bring from the shore, and at
four o'clock left the ship with my
brother in a boat, of which the mas-
ter took charge.

I have before informed you of there being no harbour or good anchorage for shipping at Norfolk island. We had to row for some distance in a very rough sea. When we reached the landing place, a rope, made fast to a ring at the stern of the boat, was held by the other end by the people on shore, who, at the favourable juncture for landing, bawled out, as the surf receded,

bottom of the hills, and leads to a hut belonging to government, and a garden that produces as fine oranges as those at Rio de Janeiro.

The governor having been at the trouble of getting his single horse chaise (the only carriage in the island, and which had been for some time out of repair) put to rights to accom-' modate me, I set out immediately after breakfast the next morning on a ride to Carcade, accompanied by a lady in the chaise, and three gentlemen on horseback. I have already given a description of this road as it appeared when I walked it by moonlight, but one of its chief beauties I could not at that time discern. The vines of a lively green, bearing a delicate lilac flower, in shape resembling the convolvulus, creeping round the trunks of the lofty pines, joined

"now, now, now." Eagerly, in my crops of Indian corn. A charming turn, obeying this signal, I somehow shady walk between banana-trees drew the rope with such force after winds for some distance round the me, that, catching the master under the chin, it jerked his head over the side of the boat, and threw his feet up into the air: luckily the people in the boat caught hold of his legs, or he would have been overboard. The fright I had then accidentally given the old sailor, with the ludicrous circumstances attending it, made me laugh, and, together with the impetuosity with which it was necessary to land, drove all thoughts of the danger of crossing the plank out of my head till I was fairly over it, escorted by my companions. We set off for Sydney, and by the time we had got half way the moon rose, and made the remainder of the walk truly delightful. The scenery around was romantic, the road running between pine-trees, which rise to a majestic height. One of these was cut down whilst I was at Norfolk together in many parts, and hanging island, and measured three hundred and eighty feet in length. As we approached Sydney we were met by Colonel Foveaux, who has been governor here for some time; who very politely welcomed us on shore.

The next morning, Monday, several gentlemen accompanied me to see the new government-house, building under the direction of the lieutenant governor. It will be a large and substantial house, pleasantly situated on a gentle eminence, commanding a view of the town of Sydney, Turtle bay, and Nepean and Phillip islands. On these islands there are a variety of choice shells, but difficult to be got at, on account of their adhering to sharp rocks that prevent the use of the dredge.

down between them in festoons, have an elegant effect. There is likewise growing in great abundance a dark green shrub, with a large glossy leaf, containing a poisonous juice. From the summit of the hill, on the Carcade side, there is a pretty view of the village of Phillipburg in a valley with the hills bordering on the sea, of which there is an extensive prospect between seven sugar-loaf ́eminences.

The chief purport of my visiting Carcade was to call on Mrs. F. and to introduce the lady that accompanied me to her, with the hope that her society might be soothing to her wounded mind, and help to soften this seclusion from her native country and a number of respectable Returning from our walk, the sig- friends. Mr. F. I have been informnal was made for another ship being ed, was most unjustly sent from Irein sight. In the afternoon a boat land, during the disturbances four from the strange sail brought intelli- years ago, on a groundless suspicion gence of her being the Alexander, of sedition, and was, without any whaler, Capt. Rhodes. from New trial, banished to New South Wales Zealand, returning to Port Jackson. for life. Government have lately This morning I walked as far as taken his case into consideration, Queenbury, a few huts scattered in a and have appointed him to the clerivale, which do not deserve the name cal duty of Norfolk island, with a of a village; but their situation is salary of 1507. per annum. Mrs. F. beautiful and romantic; the steep is sister to an eminent divine of Dubbills on cach side of the valley afford- lin: she resisted the united entreaties ing rich pasture, or yielding luxuriant of her friends to remain, and with a

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