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same time that, in any circumstance, he might apply to her, and rely upon her best services. The very next day Agricola was in need of her good offices. Our blacksmith was at the same time a poet, and composed popular songs. France is not now governed by Mazarin, who used to say of the satiric songs composed against himself: “It matters little if they sing and laugh, since they pay.’ At present the French people pay, they do not laugh; and if they sing, it is at great peril to themselves. Such was the case with Agricola. One of his songs was seized by the police, in the room of another mechanic implicated in some plots against the government, concocted by a secret association. The songster was immediately made an accomplice, and orders to arrest him were issued. Under such circumstances, and aware of the impending danger, Agricola repaired to the hotel of Miss Adrienne, who secreted him in a closet near her apartment, until she could obtain the revocation of the warrant. Unfortunately the blacksmith had been followed by the officers, who discovered his place of retreat, from whence they took him to a prison, while his fair protectress was driven to a private lunatic asylum, by the false friend whom she had requested to accompany her to the residence of a minister, to whom she intended to apply in favour of the mechanic. In connection with the history of Adrienne, we have that of the Princess of St. Dizier, and of the Marquis-Abbé d’Aigrigny. We cannot pollute our pages with even an outline of the scenes of depravity which are exhibited in this portion of the work, and, for the same reason, we forbear from entering into the particulars of the reckless career of James Rennepont the mechanic, and another claimant to the property. Numerous chapters are devoted to the illustration of the abandoned life of this man, and of his “queen of the revels,” and we confess that disgust compelled us to turn over many pages. There is scarcely anything concerning M. Hardy the manufacturer, and the last of the claimants, with the exception of some hints, on the part of the Jesuits, to get him out of their way, on the 13th of February, and to undermine his credit and reduce him to insolvency, by any means in their power, as the only commensurate atonement for the uprightness of his principles and of his conduct, for his patriotism, and his hatred of their society, as much as on account of his being entitled to the property which they coveted. Around all these personages group many others, too numerous to be mentioned, whose history and doings are equally recorded, so that the principals are generally lost sight of Such, however, is the poverty of the author's imagination, wild and mad as it is, that the already bulky volumes he has published of this novel, would be reduced to a common sized octavo of three hundred pages, if he had not, in the catch-penny fashion, swollen the matter by the description of every one of his personages, of the localities, and of the most insignificant circumstances. Sun risings and sun settings are in abundance. Moonlights and stormy nights occur every two or three chapters, without much variety in their characteristics, however different the climate. Every room, every part of the furniture is described, as well as the posture of the actors in the scenes. When we say described, we do not use the proper word, for the description of the author generally does not resemble anything that has ever been seen. Countries, localities, national manners, history, natural phenomena; in one word, every thing is boldly set at defiance, by the descriptive system of Eugène Sue. In order to enable our English readers to form an opinion of the merits of Eugène Sue, in this respect, we beg leave to say a few words of another of his novels, in which he tlescribes the manners of England. In his ‘Godolphin Arabian' the principal events take place in England. It is no longer the old soldier, with his horse of the imperial guard, and his dog, but a mute Arab, Agba, with his horse Sham, and his cat Grimalkin, (animals always play a great part in Eugène Sue's novels). A rich quaker had picked them all up in some street in Paris, and brought them all home, to his country residence, “Buryhall, on the banks of the Thames,’ for the only purpose of making them comfortable and happy. The good-natured quaker was baffled in his designs, by the obstimacy of the horse, which would allow nobody to ride him, except his master and friend, Agba. The quaker tried, and was thrown; which misdemeanor on the part of the animal he generously overlooked. All his servants were treated in the same manner, and did not shew the same forgiving disposition, but they dared not manifest their resentment too openly. Unfortunately, a reverend clergyman, Dr. Harrison, who had married the only daughter of the kind-hearted quaker // —and who was proud of his own equestrian abilitics, attempted to ride the insubordinate beast, and with no better success than his predecessors. The quaker could no longer bear with the restive spirit of the arabian stallion, and summoned Agba before a sort of court martial, composed of himself, his daughter, Dr. Harrison, and his friend the landlord of the Crowned Lion, the principal public-house of the village. The sentence passed unani. mously was, that “Sham should be sold;’ and it was carried into execution. As the companionship of Agba with his horse was considered the principal cause of the stubbornness of the animal, it was determined that they should be parted, and the horse was taken to London, where every means were employed to tame it. But Agba, who could not live happy without his friend, went to town to see it, and being constantly refused admittance, resolved to escalade the house and the stables, during the night, just as Dagobert, in the ‘Wandering Jew,’ escaladed the convent to rescue Rose and Blanche, but with no better success. Nay, even more, his failure was attended with worse consequences; for he was taken as a burglar, and sent to Newgate, where, two or three days after his imprisonment, in a fit of despair, he was going to hang himself, when he was providentially saved by the visit paid at the prison by Lady Sarah Jennings, the widow of the great Duke of Marlborough, attended by her eldest son, Lord Godolphin' ' The doings of the lady, and the gross language of her son, are in keeping with the strange notions just exhibited of the English manners, and of our aristocratic families. Is is with the same knowledge and the same accuracy that our author describes, in the ‘Wandering Jew,” the habits and manners of the several countries to which he chooses to transport his personages. On reaching the end of the published part of this equally disgusting and absurd publication, we entertained some hope that the author had exhausted his store of filthy reminiscences, and that the continuation of the work would be comparatively free from the demoralising pictures which fill the first part; but we were soon disappointed. Eugene Sue takes great care to stimulate the depraved appetite of his readers, by promising something still more abominable than that on which he had hitherto fed them. All the events related in the first part were the produce of the combinations of the profligate Marquess Abbé d’Aigrigny, and as they had not succeeded in obtaining the desired results, his successor in the management of the plot, Rodin, convinced that the failure is owing only to the scruples of his late unprincipled master, reproaches him for his want of skill and determination, and expounds his own plans in the following terms:

‘You have had recourse to rough and physical measures, instead of acting upon noble, generous, and elevated feelings, which, when united, offer an invincible phalanx; but divided, may successively be overcome by surprise, seduction, artifice, or by any other common mode of attack. Now do you understand me? . . . . Did any one ever die from despair : Will not gratitude and happy love lead to the very limits of insane generosity ? Are there not some deceptions so horrible, that suicide is the only refuge against these dreadful realities? May not an excess of sensuality lead to the tomb, by a slow and voluptuous agony Are there, in human life, some circumstances so terrible, as to bring the most worldly, the most strongminded, nay, even the most impious characters, blindly to throw themselves, heart-broken and humbled, into the arms of religion, abandoning all their worldly wealth, for sackcloth, prayer, and mystic raptures? Are there not, in fact, a thousand circumstances in which the reaction of the passions produce the most extraordinary transformations, and the most tragical events, in the lives of both men and women ; But you are ignorant of the immense resources produced by partial or mutual annihilation, which, playing on the human passions, if skilfully managed, either by combining, opposing, subduing, or exciting them, more especially when, perhaps, thanks to a powerful auxiliary, those passions become redoubled in their ardour and in their violence.”

Such is the bill of fare of the forthcoming volumes; which, we sincerely hope, we shall not be under the necessity of perusIng.

All our readers will naturally say, after reading this faithful analysis of the work, ‘Hitherto we have seen nothing but the Jesuits; where is the Wandering Jew, who gives its title to the work?' We cannot answer the question, except by a supposition, a surmise; for the Wandering Jew appears but once in his real character, without acting, and in the few events in which, we imagine, he acts a part, it is under a sort of incognito. But then we find, not only a wandering Jew, but also a wandering Jewess; not, indeed, pursuing together, so as to alleviate their mutual fatigues and hardships, their endless journey; but always marching in opposite directions, without ever meeting; and only once casting a glance at one another, at the beginning of the work, in the ‘ Prologue,’ from which we now give some extracts, to make our readers acquainted with the descriptive and imaginative genius of our author.

‘The polar sea surrounds with a circle of eternal ice the inhospitable shores of Siberia and North America; the extreme limits of Asia and America are separated by Behring Straits. September is now at its close; and the shortening gloomy days are succeeded by long stormy nights. The dark blue sky, intersected by lines of violet, is hardly illumined by the sun, whose disk level with the horizon feebly shines on the dazzling gleam of the snow, which extends over immense steppes. To the westward, this inhospitable desert is bounded by a rocky coast, of rugged and gigantic description; at the foot of which lies the frozen ocean. . . . . No human being seems able to explore the solitude of these regions of frosts and tempests, famine and death;-yet strange, the show which constantly covers the deserts at the extremities of the two continents, is marked by footsteps of human beings! On the American shore, the marks of footsteps, small and light, clearly bespeak the traces of a woman, who has bent her course towards the rocks just described as overlooking the snowy steppes of Siberia, while on the Asiatic side, the same impression, but larger and deeper, betrays the heavy march of a man, who has also directed his journey towards the Straits. One would suppose that this man and woman, thus arriving from opposite quarters, at the extreme points of the two continents, had a hope of

gaining a glance at one another, across the narrow sea which separates them.’

Eugene Sue is too good-natured to disappoint them, though he seems not to know them; and repeatedly asks, who they are? He immediately produces an aurora borealis, much superior to any that ever was seen; and at the same time, in spite of the Alpine mountains of ice, he creates a mirage, which has the desired effect. “On the Siberian cape, a man, on his knees, was extending his arms towards America, with an expression of deep despair; while, on the American promontory, a young and beautiful woman replied to the despondent attitude of the man, by pointing to heaven.”. Then, again, our author asks, Whence came, and who are these two creatures? and he closes his prologue, discarding them altogether, until in the epilogue, at the end of the first volume, the man alone is re-introduced in the character of Wandering Jew, to make a speech.

We greatly suspect that, though he is not mentioned, it is the same personage who seeks, all over the world, the members of Rennepont family, and delivers them their medals;–who, when General Simon, being ordered, at the battle of Waterloo, to carry a battery with his cuirassiers, just when the artilleryman was applying the match to a cannon, in front of which stood the general, placed himself at the mouth of the cannon, and after the discharge was not a bit the worse for it;-who, having been strangled and buried by the Thugs, in India, some time afterwards crosses the path of his murderers, to their utter consternation;—who, in fine, is the invisible promoter of the supernatural incidents crowded in the work. As to the woman, the wandering Jewess, there is little doubt that she is the identical beautiful lady who brought the codicil at the meeting in the house, in Francis Street.

It is time to conclude our observation; and we cannot dismiss the work without expressing our concern at seeing, every day, advertised in the newspapers, translations, not only of this insane publication, but also of the other works of the same author, works of an equally, and perhaps still more objectionable character. We were in hope that the morbid appetites of our neighbours would not find any one, in our country, disposed to a deplorable rivalry. In this we have been disappointed; and, as public journalists, we feel bound to caution our readers against the poison, both moral and intellectual, of which they are so urgently invited to partake. Were not the works in question obtaining a wide circulation amongst us, we should not have so

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