hold on the affections of the people; they strove, therefore, to augment their influence, by calling national vanity to their aid; and, well convinced that the French would be flattered by imitating the Romans, and by seeing the masterpieces of art brought as trophies of war to adorn the capital of their country, they ordered, or sanctioned, the revival of this antiquated system of plunder. That they equalled the best of their predecessors is not to be denied; how far the treasures so gathered prospered in the hands of the spoilers, we shall have occasion to shew hereafter.

We now come to the combat of Lodi, one of the most celebrated actions of the war. The extravagant tales to which it has given rise call upon us for a more detailed account of the transaction than would otherwise be required.

Lodi is situated on the Adda, a river that issues from the lake of Como, and falls into the Po a little below the small fortified town of Pizzighetone. In ordinary seasons it has few practicable fords, and though too insignificant to arrest the progress of a victorious army, offers, when its bridges are guarded or destroyed, a defensible barrier, behind which troops may find some momentary shelter from the pursuit of superior adversaries. When Beaulieu abandoned the defence of the Po, he retired behind the Adda by the bridge of Lodi: the troops near Milan were ordered to leave 1800 men in the citadel of that city and to cross the same river at Cassano; while Sebottendorf and Wucassowitch, who remained about Pavia, were directed to march on Lodi. Owing to Napoleon's halt on the 9th, all these detached partics reached the left bank of the stream; the rear guard of Wucassowitch's corps arriving before Lodi from the westward at the same time that the advanced guard of the French arrived from the south. Sebottendorf had very properly left a couple of battalions in the town to take up this rear guard, who after a short skirmish were brought safely across the river. The Austrians have been blamed for not destroying the bridge; but they could not do so without cutting off their own rear

guard; their error consisted in not being prepared to destroy the bridge the moment their troops had passed.

General Sebottendorf's orders were to hold the Adda for twenty-four hours, to give the army time to reach some secure position in which they could rest from their late exertions. The force at his disposal consisted of twelve battalions, sixteen squadrons, and fourteen guns; three battalions he placed at the ford of Credo, two miles below the town; so that he had only 7000 men left for the defence of his post. Beaulieu with the remainder of the troops was already on his march towards the Oglio.

The French entered Lodi on the morning of the 10th of May, along with the rear guard of Wucassowitch's corps; but the Austrian guns, posted on the opposite side of the river, prevented them from crossing the bridge. Napoleon, flushed with success, in the full career of victory, instantly resolved to dislodge this rear guard; nor was the difficulty so great as is generally represented. The whole of the French artillery were brought into action, some of the guns were placed to great advantage on the old ramparts of the town; and a fierce cannonade opened upon the Austrians, who were not slow in replying to the fiery salutations; but the superior number of the French guns, the protection afforded them by the walls of the town, and the greater elevation of the western over the eastern bank of the river, made every chance of combat incline to the side of the invaders, and caused considerable loss to the Austrian artillery.

While the cannonade was thinning the ranks of the Germans, Napoleon placed 3500 grenadiers, formed in close column, behind the rampart of the Lodi, the head of the column being close to the bridge, ready to wheel to the left and rush across at the first signal. To facilitate the intended attack, he despatched General Beaumon with the cavalry to a ford about three miles up the stream, where he was to cross, and fall upon the right flank of the enemy. The onset of the cavalry was to be the signal for the advance of the infantry: Napoleon, indeed, pretends that it was so, but this is not the

case, as the cavalry never came into action.

A five hours' cannonade had not driven the Austrians from their position; but had a good deal slackened the fire of their guns. The signal for the advance of the column was therefore given, and the gallant grenadiers instantly rushed forward to the loud shouts of Vive la République. Met by a shower of grape and musketry that struck down the leading ranks, the mass halted before they reached the hostile bank. "A moment's hesitation," says Napoleon, "would have been ruin, but General Berthier, Massena, Cervoni, Lannes, and Dallemagne, pushed to the front and turned the still uncertain scales of fate." How these officers made their way through a close column of men, crowded together upon a narrow bridge, the front men pressing back while the rear were pressing forward, is not easily understood, and should have been explained by those who were satisfied with repeating the idle tale. The fact is this. The bed of the Adda is about two hundred yards wide at Lodi; but the deep channel is comparatively narrow and runs close to the walls of the town; towards the eastern side the water is, in general, so shallow as to leave two sand-banks under the bridge completely dry; and as the country is flat, the bridge has no great elevation above the level of the stream. When the advance of the column was checked, the soldiers, not to remain exposed to the Austrian fire, descended by the beams of the bridge to these sand-banks and formed themselves, as usual, into bands of tirailleurs and advanced upon the enemy, when those who had remained on the bridge also rushed forward. The wild and gallant swarm once across, pushed on as they were reinforced; some buildings near the bank, from which the Austrians had been driven by the fire of the French artillery, gave them good shelter; and having thus obtained a firm footing, superior numbers soon decided the action in their favour. The Austrians lost all their guns, and nearly 2000 men in killed, wounded, and prisoners; but they were allowed to retire unpursued to Crema.

That no military, perhaps we

should say, no strategical, object was gained, or sought for, by this extraordinary feat of arms is evident from the fact, that Napoleon immediately desisted from the further pursuit of the vanquished, and facing to the right about marched upon Milan and Pavia. In his memoirs, he attempts to shew, that the action of Lodi was not a mere scene of slaughter entered upon without object; for he intended, he says, to cut off the retreat of General Colli, who with 10,000 men was retiring by Cassano. But dates and distances shew very plainly that this is one of the many strategical plans that result from after-thoughts; for Colli had crossed the bridge of Cassano, which is twenty-five miles, a good day's march from Lodi, before Napoleon had forced the passage of the Adda !

Colli had, besides, less than 2000 men with him; and the chance of cutting them off was not worth the risk that might have been sustained in what is called the "terrible storm of the Bridge of Lodi." Nor does it seem that he was very clear how the victory had really been gained, for he not only gives an inconsistent but evidently evasive account of the passage of the bridge; and adds, also, that the enemy were defeated by les feux redoutables de cette invincible colonne, though every military man I will know that the fire of such a column would hardly be equal to the fire of an ordinary platoon, or to that of fifty or sixty men perhaps. Here, as every where else, Napoleon hurled brave men forward, leaving the result to fortune and the gallantry of the troops.

But if no strategical advantages were gained by the victory of Lodi, it augmented, in a very high degree, the moral force of the conquerors. No feat of arms ever caused so much astonishment in Europe as the passage of the Adda. It excited the most boundless enthusiasm in favour of the French and their general. The partisans of the new order of things were delighted, and thought that nothing would be impossible for such a man to achieve with such soldiers. The republicans began, indeed, to fancy themselves invincible, and such a belief is already a great step towards victory; particularly when, as in the present case,

the spirits of the vanquished were depressed in the same proportion in which those of the conqueror's were elevated. If this was the advantage for which Napoleon stormed the bridge of Lodi, he gained his object completely; but this is hardly to be supposed, as the view taken of the action could never have been anticipated, because the assault of any breach in the rampart of a regular fortress of ordinary strength is in reality infinitely more difficult and dangerous than was this boasted passage of the Adda. In the attack of a breach the assailants have to advance fully exposed to the fire of well-sheltered foes; they have to effect a difficult descent into the ditch at the very muzzles of hostile guns, and they have then to force their way over the ruined fragments of rampart, over loaded shells of grenades, and over the mangled bodies of their comrades, falling thick and fast under the fiery missiles hurled from above, or bursting in treachery beneath their feet. Such were the obstacles encountered in the breaches of Roderigo and Badajoz, but at Lodi there was only a rush across a straight and level bridge of 200 yards in length, and in the face of foes who had for five hours been exposed, without shelter, to the telling fire of the French artillery. The trifling loss sustained by the assailants is also a proof that the difficulties of this exploit have

been most shamefully exaggerated. French accounts say that they had only 200 men killed and wounded; and though we may well suppose that the number was in reality much greater, it could not well have been ten times greater, which the successful attack of a welldefended breach would probably have made it.

Napoleon was no doubt impelled to this attack by the spirit of victory which then animated the French army, and by the thirsting for success and battles which lent them so much energy and resolution. And if he struck the blow to intimidate his adversaries, and to keep high the brilliant reputation his troops had acquired, he might deserve praise for the action; but this view neither himself nor his biographers have been able to take; they have rested the merits of the victory on strategical grounds and have failed completely.

For a just understanding of the spirit in which Napoleon and his idolaters have written, it is right to add that, not satisfied with defeating Sebottendorf and his 7000 men at Lodi, they generally defeat Beaulieu and his whole army there, even as they had before defeated him at Dego and Monte-Notte, though that unfortunate commander was already a day's march in advance towards the Ŏglio.

RESPECTED OLIVER, -You know many things, and know them well; but confess frankly that you share the common ignorance respecting the rise, progress, and decline of glorious pantomime. Did you ever, in your most recondite researches, venture into that obscure subject- a subject not less important than obscure? You did not. You have relished many a performance in the halcyon days of boyhood; but did you ever, in the soberer studies of manhood, ask yourself whence came this species of dramatic entertainment? No, such a thought never crossed your mind; or, crossing it, was instantly dismissed.

Now, O worthy Oliver! I have asked this question of many a learned man, and many a dusty volume, but without satisfactory result. All my researches only give me brief and scattered facts. These facts I endeavoured to interpret. I formed a theory on the matter, and, as

The Christmas pantomimes have confessedly been getting worse and worse for some years. Ask any respectable play-goer, and he will tell you, with a sigh, that pantomimes are not what they used to be. Now what used they to be? and when? Here at once is the historic question raised. People usually content themselves with referring to the French stage, where pantomime was transplanted from the Italian; the Italians again borrowed it from the Romans and Greeks. A sequent tradition is thus given, or supposed to be. But look a little closer; don't be satisfied with mere verbal resemblances, and then

say what resemblance has the entertainment we call pantomime with the attellane of Rome or the pantomimes of Greece? Not to go so far, what resemblance has it to the pantomime of Italy and France?

Simply that of names and dresses.

These, indeed, are traditional. I will rapidly trace the history of the principal pantomimic personages, and then come to the thing itself. Harlequin is certainly the Italian Arlecchino, which was also the Roman Sannio (he is also called Zanni in Italian). The Sannio, as his name imports, was a buffoon (from sanna, a grimace); his dress was very similar to that of our harlequin, only it was mean and miserable, instead of being spangled and splendid. He has his head shaved (rasis capitibus), and his face begrimed with soot (fuligine faciem); these are represented by a short black mask and skull-cap in the modern dress. His feet were unshod (planipedes); the feet of the modern are cased in delicate pumps. His dress was a thing of shreds and patches, formed of various colours and various materials, so that Aristophanes would have recommended him to Euripides (you, Oliver, remember the δος μοι ῥακιον τι του παλαιοῦ Seaparos, don't you?); but this miserable dress is in the modern elevated to the splendour of spangles and variegated colours.

Pantaloon is of Venetian origin. Pantaleone is pianta leone (he planted the lion), and therefore the designation of a standard-bearer, the Venetian standard being a lion. Such is the common etymology, though there is absolutely nothing to be made out of it. Why should a standard-bearer be chosen as the type of old menthe "heavy fathers" in the drama? True it is that the tight red hose and yellow slippers of Pantaloon are also those of the standard-bearer; but the question remains unanswered. Why was the standard-bearer chosen? I have a suggestion to offer.

The

tight red hose and yellow slippers became the costume of the Venetian merchants. When these were superseded by the full flowing garment, the change was of course at first only adopted by the young. The old men continued to wear the old costume, and thus the red hose became a mark of an old Venetian in the same way as the pigtail was a few years ago the

mark of an old Englishman. "Pigtail" might represent a "heavy father" in a modern farce, so Pantaleone, i. e. the costume of Pantaleone, represented the old man in Venetian farce; for Pantaloon is always the old man who cries up the wisdom of the bygone times and deplores the folly of the present-always the old man to be duped and laughed at. Such is my explanation. The principal fact, however, to be noticed here is that the modern Pantaloon has substantially the same dress and name as his prototype.

Clown is, we know, the Pierrot of the French and the Scaramuccia of the Italian stage. The dress is, however, somewhat different, and in the opinion of one learned in such matters, it is the invention of the immortal Joey Grimaldi, who to the white flowing habit of Pierrot added blue and red stripes, and cut the trousers short. The wondrous popularity of this prince of clowns made every other clown adopt his dress, and thus those of the amphitheatre and those who performed their antics on the 1st of May thought right to copy Grimaldi's dress.

But it is in the characters that we must look for the greatest changes. Pantaloon continues much the same; but Harlequin used to be a heavy, lumbering lout, whose stupidities were a set-off to the adroitness of Brighella, or Clown. Now he is a fairy-worker, and carries a fairy wand. His dress has undergone changes in keeping with the change in his character-it is fairy-like. In the Italian drama he had to bear the

penalties of all the larceny and knavery of his fellow-servant, Brighella; the kicks fell upon him as they now fall upon Pantaloon, who has inherited that portion of the "business." Our Harlequin has an element in his composition which is quite foreign to his prototype,-foreign, indeed, to the whole Italian and French entertainments. None of the Italian characters have any thing more than their adroitness and audacity to assist them in their tricks, but Harlequin has a magic power. He is the lover favoured by fairies. He whirls about in the giddy mazes of the dance with his beloved Columbine; and whenever the clever, mischievous Clown, or the dull, mis

chievous Pantaloon, attempt to disturb their felicity, the magic wand performs its magic wonders.

Now here in this one element we see something altogether different from the Roman, Italian, or French pantomimes. Whence the origin of this element? How came Harlequin by his wand? How, in short, did pantomime become what it now is, a mixture of magic and buffoonery? Whoso talks about our getting our pantomime from France or Italy should also tell us whence came the magic, and whence the mixture; because a pantomime-such as Mother Goose, for example-is altogether a different entertainment from those of the Italian stage.

Let us rummage amongst old playbills and forgotten books. There we shall find certain distinct facts worth collecting. In 1704, we find recorded that a party of French tumblers performed at Drury Lane with immense success. This success produced English imitations. This is one fact. In 1718, Colley Cibber tells us that the affairs of Drury Lane were desperate. The Italian Opera had carried away the town. The "legitimate drama" seemed as hopeless a case then as it does now. Then, as now, "confounded foreigners" were the objects of that bitter hatred which tracks the heels of success; and "native talent," with empty pockets, had to console itself with the vastness of its pretensions. The "legitimate drama" drawing no money to the treasury, an attempt was made worthy of the "Poet Bunn;" that attempt was the pantomime entitled Mars and Venus. So much playbills and records tell us. But this thing called a pantomime, what was it? Was it a thing like our pantomimes? Not in the least. It was what we should call a serious ballet. Clown and Pantaloon, tumbling and magic, were absent. Our next clue is as follows:-Rich produced some little harlequinades, in the style of the Italian Night Scenes. In 1723 these had a new direction given to them. Thurmond, a dancing-master, having brought out his pantomime of Harlequin Dr. Faustus at Drury Lane, Rich produced his Necromancer, or Dr. Faustus, at Covent Garden. The success was prodigious. Pope alludes to the rivalry in these lines:—