whatsoever" contains nineteen variations from the original text. I am unwilling to trouble you with them now, especially as I wish to confine my letter to a narrow compass, but if any of your readers should hereafter desire to see a list of the more glaring mistakes, I will furnish it through your pages. J. PAYNE COLLIER.

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THE time is almost gone by when an author, however great his genius or energy, can become, simply as author, a political power. The admirable articles which appear in so many of our periodical publications have rendered it nearly impossible for an individual by the mere force of talent, or of eloquence, of satirical sharpness, or of fulminating denunciation, to acquire a celebrity or an influence much above others as a political writer. After having glanced at our weekly and daily newspapers, our magazines and reviews, we have little either of leisure or taste for the separate and special utterances of any single man on the most momentous subject, whatever be their force or literary excellence. Pamphlets continue to be published, for there is no lack of persons persuaded that what they have to say on some passing topic is the word chiefly needed to be said; but few souls are now innocent enough to confess to the reading of a pamphlet. Mr. Thomas Carlyle's recent publications may seem to be an exception. What he has given to the world as a pamphleteer has been extensively read. But the interest here has been principally literary, the attraction being in Mr. Carlyle's unequalled pictorial ability. The last writer in England who was a real living popular power as a political writer was Cobbett. But for several years before he died his empire

over the hearts of the working classes was declining; and such an empire could now be neither created nor maintained. The very qualities which made Cobbett so famous, which made him alike the terror of governments and the favourite of the people, would either at present produce no attention or would excite disgust. Besides, the sympathies of Englishmen are less exclusively engaged by politics than in past generations. For good or for evil, our thoughts go in a thousand various directions, and are too busy about all things for our feelings to be concentrated on any one. Amongst us politics have ceased to be a passion. They have descended into the number of novelties and curiosities which furnish food for conversation. The political writer, then, however eminent or able, can, from this circumstance, no longer be that fiery, tempestuous, conquering power that he was in the days of Junius. In an age also which, however unheroic in its habits and tendencies, yet yearns for something heroic in action, the gift of potent speech, whether manifested by tongue or pen, is beginning to be regarded with exceeding suspicion. He who speaks and he who writes with the most earnestness and genius is merely viewed as a more skilful charlatan than his brethren, till mighty deeds inspire faith in mighty words, and dispose men to find in both divine revealings.

From what precedes we may conclude that the illustrious man of whom we are about to give some account would, if he had lived in these times, have put forth his faculties on objects and in shapes altogether different from those on and in which he actually expended them. We cannot suppose that so bold and reckless a spirit as Paul Louis Courier would, at whatever period or in whatever circumstances his lot had been cast, have refrained from fixing the vigorous impress of his mental pith on the course of public affairs. But in these days we may be sure that he would not have chosen books as the instruments for effecting his purpose. His keen eye would at once have discerned the necessity for something more concentrated, consecutive, and crushing than the cleverest pamphlets that ever were written. And if he could not himself have risen to the height of a comprehensive and organic statesmanship, he would have done his best to make such statesmanship possible for other and more commanding minds in his debased and distracted country. Paul Louis Courier was born at Paris in 1773. His father, a man of wealth, of much talent and of considerable literary acquirements, retired to Touraine while his son was still a child. In the scenery of that beautiful region he found teachings which probably thwarted his father's plans regarding him. It was his father's wish that he should devote his chief attention to the exact sciences. But, though he acquired a knowledge of these with sufficient facility, yet his tastes lay altogether in a different direction. Two of his most absorbing pursuits through life were love for classical antiquities and for Greek literature. And his enthusiasm for both displayed itself at a very early period. In accordance with the will of his father, rather than from any liking of his own, he adopted the military profession and entered on its preparatory studies. He was in the school of artillery at Châlons when the Prussian invasion occurred. That, by the energy and promptitude of Dumouriez, was repelled. Courier and his comrades guarded the gates at Châlons for a part of the time that the invasion lasted. He was not, however, a very industrious student at Châlons, neither

was he much inclined to submit to the discipline of the school. He was in the habit of forgetting that the doors of the school closed at a certain hour every evening, and was often obliged to enter by climbing over the wall.

In 1793 Courier, having been appointed an officer of artillery, joined the army of the Rhine. He had none of the ardour of his profession. He was already disenchanted when he entered on it; but being brave and resolute he went through the duties assigned him with sufficient distinction. He was always glad however to turn from the noise of drums and the clang of arms to his friends the Greeks, and especially to Plutarch. From Thionville, where he was in garrison, he wrote frequently to his mother. A few of his letters to her at this period are printed in the collected edition of his works, and have much biographical interest. In one he gives an amusing. picture of his rage and humiliation at not being able to dance when invited to the wedding of one of the serjeants under him. In the spring of 1794, quitting Thionville he was engaged on more active service, and first saw war in the open field. To bivouac beside the cannon did not trouble him much, but to behold the havoc which the cannon made, and to wade in blood to the shedding of more, inspired him with a horror and disgust which probably were not common at a time of such great revolutionary excitement. He consoled himself by visiting whenever he could the ruined abbeys and the old castles on the banks of the Rhine. At the end of June 1795 he was employed in the army encamped before Mayence, and had just been named captain when he received the unexpected news of his father's death. This event produced so deep an impression on him that, thinking only of his mother's grief, and without obtaining leave, he immediately set out to comfort his bereaved parent, who was living near Luines. So palpable a violation of military discipline caused grave offence, and was only pardoned by the energetic_interference of Courier's friends. In September he was sent to the south of France, and at Toulouse, where he spent the years 1796 and 1797, his military duties, so monotonous and so mechanical, must

have been felt as a sort of disgrace, when all the world was admiring the glorious campaigns in Italy. At Toulouse, however, if he found no glory he found abundance of gaiety. He mingled in the fashionable amusements of the place, and, in order to be deficient in nothing becoming a man of pleasure, he learned to dance. He had so much good-humoured wit that he was exceedingly popular in society. He met also at Toulouse with an opportunity of continuing his classical studies. He became acquainted with a bookseller, M. Chlewaski, a Pole of profound erudition, and who had many tastes in common with Courier. They grew into intimate friends, and it was the custom of Courier after spending the day with Chlewaski, in learned conference and research, to repair in the evening to balls or to the theatre.

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Courier left Toulouse in December, 1797, and, after a visit to his mother, and a residence in Paris, he was sent in the spring of 1798 to join the army Britany. Shortly afterwards he received orders to take the command of a company of artillery in Italy. This country, which he had long desired to see, he reached toward the end of the year. But his disappointment and sorrow were extreme as soon as he had passed the Alps. Italy was still beautiful; beautiful in its natural grandeur and picturesque aspect; beautiful in its monuments; beautiful in its memories. But the reckless oppression and the barbarous rapacity of the French, and the moral degradation and physical wretchedness of the Italians, combined to offer a spectacle which filled Courier with grief and indignation. Passing Milan, and traversing the Peninsula rapidly, he reached Rome. There, though engaged in very active service, he yet found time for his antiquarian and classical pursuits, for the indulgence of which Rome and its vicinity offered a field so various and so interesting; and, indeed, his adventures as a scholar often exposed him to more danger than his occupation as a soldier. The Italians, especially the peasants, considered that they could not perform any holier duty than assassinating the French. This was done most easily when any Frenchman, either by accident or to gratify curiosity, was sepa

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rated from his companions; but, at the risk of assassination, Courier boldly went unattended wherever there was an inscription to decipher or a ruin to examine; and if he escaped, as by a miracle, to-day, he went without hesitation to face the same perils on the morrow. Courier had arrived at Rome soon after the retreat of the Neapolitan army. The fortress of Civita Vecchia had been incited by the presence of the Neapolitans at Rome to raise the papal standard. But when they were gone it refused to surrender to the French. It was resolved therefore to employ force. To this expedition, in February 1799, Courier was associated, having a charge of cannon. as he arrived he was sent with an officer of dragoons and a trumpeter to make a final summons to the inhabitants. When they were approaching the gate on horseback, he discovered that a roll of louis d'or had been lost through a hole in his pocket. He dismounted to seek for it, and after perceiving that his search was in vain, was just about to get on horseback when he heard a discharge of musketry and saw the trumpeter riding to him alone. The officer had been killed. Thus to the loss of his money Courier probably owed his life. Civita Vecchia soon after surrendered. On his return to Rome Courier resided with an old nobleman called Chiaramonte, who conceived for him a warm attachment. Macdonald having completed the conquest of Naples returned to the north of Italy. On his march thither he left at Rome six thousand troops under General Garnier. The division of the French army to which Courier was attached maintained its position for four months against the combined efforts of the insurgents, the Neapolitans, and the Austrians. It was at last compelled to capitulate on condition that the troops should be conveyed to France. On the 27th September the French retired from Rome. Courier, who had spent many a delightful day in the library of the Vatican, wished to pay it a farewell visit. He did not leave it till the night, and then he found that the troops were all gone, and that he was the only Frenchman remaining in the city. He was recognised by the light of a lamp which was burning be