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instrument of so much good to the whole nation, but rather accept of some honourable acknowledgment of his munificence in bestowing upon the College an honest residence for the muses." But to return to the impugnment. The next thesis was on local motion, "pressing many things by clear testimonies of Aristotle's text;" and this passage of literary arms called out one of James's sallies of pawky persiflage. "These men," he said, "know Aristotle's mind as well as himself did while he lived." The next thesis was on the "Original of Fountains;" and the discussion, much to the purpose, no doubt, was so interesting that it was allowed to go on far beyond the prescribed period, "his majesty himself sometimes speaking for the impugner, and sometimes for the defender, in good Latin, and with much knowledge of the secrets of philosophy."

Talking is, however, at the best, dry work. His majesty went at last to supper, and no doubt would have what is termed "a wet night." When up to the proper mark, he sent for the professors, and delivered himself of the following brilliant address:

"Methinks these gentlemen, by their very names, have been destined for the acts which they have had in hand to-day. Adam was father of all; and, very fitly, Adamson had the first part of this act. The defender is justly called Fairly-his thesis had some fair lies, and he defended them very fairly, and with many fair lies given to the oppugners. And why should not Mr Lands be the first to enter the lands? but now I clearly see that all lands are not barren, for certainly he hath shown a fertile wit. Mr Young is very old in Aristotle. Mr Reed needs not be red with blushing for his acting to-day. Mr King disputed very kingly, and of a kingly purpose, anent the royal supremacy of reason over anger and all passions." And here his majesty was going to close the encomiums, when some one nudged his elbow, and hinted that he had omitted to notice the modest Charteris; but the royal wit was not abashed, and his concluding im

promptu was by no means the least successful of his puns. "Well, his name agreeth very well to his nature; for charters contain much matter, yet say nothing, but put great purposes in men's mouths."

Few natures would be churlish enough to resist a genial glow of satisfaction on receiving such pearls of rhetoric scattered among them by a royal hand, and we may believe that the professors were greatly gratified. But, pleased more probably by his own success, the king gave a more substantial mark of his satisfaction, and said, "I am so well satisfied with this day's exercise, that I will be godfather to the College of Edinburgh, and have it called the College of King James; for after the founding of it had been stopped for sundry years in my minority, so soon as I came to any knowledge, I zealously held hand to it, and caused it to be established; and although I see many look upon it with an evil eye, yet I will have them to know that, having given it this name, I have espoused its quarrel." And further on in the night, he promised, "that as he had given the College a name, he would also, in time convenient, give it a royal godbairn gift for enlarging the patrimony thereof."

In the course of the multifarious talk of the evening, a curious and delicate matter was opened up-the difference between the English pronunciation of Latin and the Scottish, which corresponds with that of Europe in general. An English doctor, who must have enjoyed exceptional opinions, or been a master of hypocrisy, praised the readiness and elegancy of his majesty's Latinity; on which he said, "All the world knows that my maister, Mr George Buchanan, was a great maister in that faculty. I follow his pronunciation both of Latin and Greek, and am sorry that my people of England do not the like, for certainly their pronunciation utterly spoils the grace of these two learned languages; but you see all the university and learned men of Scotland express the true and native pronunciation of both."*

* These notices are taken from the History of the University of Edinburgh, from 1580 to 1646, by Thomas Crawford, printed in 1808 from a MS. of the seventeenth century.


DEAR EBONY.-Had I known that you would treacherously publish my private communications, and that Maga comes to Madrid, I certainly would have waited until I had quitted this capital, before imparting to you my impressions of it, its inhabitants, and its institutions. I admit that I have but myself to blame for my ignorance of the fact that Maga, whose fame extends to the uttermost parts of the earth, has her regular readers even in Madrid. But you, who must be aware of that fact, are not the less culpable for risking the valuable life of your old ally and contributor. You might have had a little more consideration for your outpost than to expose him to the thrust of an Albacete dagger or Catalan knife, whether dealt under the fifth rib, or treacherously in the back. You should have reflected that my olive-green uniform, with a golden thistle on the black-facings, would naturally betray my quality of Maga's vedette. Since the 10th of June, date of the Magazine's arrival in Madrid, my existence has not been worth an hour's purchase. I have been obliged to strike my tent, pitched in the Puerta del Sol, as the best place for observation, and to picket my charger in the recesses of the Retiro, whose cool shades, I confess, are not altogether to be despised now that the thermometer ranges from 90 to 100 in the shade, and that the streets of this capital resemble nothing so much as limekilns, thanks to dust from demolitions, and to the rays of a sun compared to which the Phoebus of the British Isles is a very feeble impostor. You are, of course, aware of the pleasant peculiarities of the Madrid climate Siberia in winter and in the wind; the Sahara in summer and in the sun. We are just now in all the delights of the dogdays; a wet brick is sunburned red in half an hour; eggs, placed for ten minutes on the tiles, open for the exit of lively chickens; and Madrid, to avoid calcination, flies to the woods and waves. As I hope soon to follow its example, and shall consequently not be here


Madrid, July 1854.

when your August number arrives, I will venture to send you another epistle, notwithstanding that I have received sundry mysterious warnings that a repetition of my first offence would lead to prompt blood-letting. This time, however, I shall have less to say of the follies and failings of the natives, and more of what has occurred since last I troubled you with my prose. Then I did but glance at politics en passant; now, I propose devoting my whole letter to them. Just one fortnight ago there occurred at Madrid an event so important that I think it best to confine myself to an account of it, and to reserve lighter matters for a future communication. I need hardly say that the event in question is the military insurrection of the 28th of June.

Things had been in rather a queer state here for some time past. As you may possibly, amidst the excitement of the Eastern question, have neglected to follow up the minute intricacies of Spanish politics, I must step back a pace or two, in order to put you au fait. Autumn of last year witnessed the arrival at power of the present ministry, which speedily became far more unpopular than, for some time past, any administration had been. Headed by an unprincipled and unscrupulous adventurer, it recoiled from no illegality or tyranny that might conduce to its own advantage. Defeated in the senate by a large majority, on the memorable railway question, it suspended the session, and began to indulge its hatred of those who assisted in its rebuff. In January of the present year, about a month after the closing of the legislative chambers, some of the most formidable of its opponents, on that occasion and on most others, were ordered into exile. It is customary and legal in Spain for the minister to assign a residence to unemployed officers, whither they are bound to procecd. In those dispositions, the convenience of the officers is usually to a certain extent consulted, but sometimes, especially for


political reasons, the contrary is the case, and such assignment of quarters becomes little less than a sentence of banishment. A military man may be authorised to reside in Madrid (the Spaniard's paradise), or transported to the Philippines, which he would consider purgatory. As most military men of high rank in this country are more or less political characters, either having held office, or hoping some day to find a place in one of the ephemeral Spanish governments (whose existence rarely exceeds a year, and is sometimes limited to a day), and constantly manoeuvring to obtain it, they hold it a cruel destiny that consigns them to a colonial abode, or to vegetation in a remote town, far from the capital, that centre of every kind of intrigue. It may be imagined, therefore, with what extreme disgust some of the military chiefs of the Moderado opposition suddenly found themselves ordered to places where they would be at full liberty to study strategy, or play the Cincinnatus in their cabbage gardens, but where they would be forgotten by the world, and powerless to annoy the ministers or to forward their own ambitious views. Generals Leopold O'Donnell, Manuel Concha, José Concha, and Infante (a deserter from the Progresista or liberal party), were the men whose influence and intrigues the Sartorius ministry thus attempted to annul. The two former were ordered to the Canary Islands, the two latter to the Balearics. Manuel Concha and Infante obeyed orders and departed for their destinations; José Concha, by far the cleverer of the brothers, went into France; O'Donnell disappeared, and it was not until some time afterwards that it became known where he was concealed. From the time of these banishments (the latter part of January) may be dated the commencement of the conspiracy which has just broken out in the shape of a military insurrection.

On the 20th of February, the regiment of Cordova, quartered at Saragossa, rose in revolt, headed by its colonel, Brigadier Hore, an officer of merit, who had served in the royal guards during the civil war. Nearly the whole of the garrison, and several officers of high rank, were pledged to

support the movement; but some of the latter played the traitor, others hesitated at the very moment when promptness and decision were most necessary; José Concha, who was then concealed in Spain, and expected to start up at Saragossa to head the revolt, did not appear, but soon afterwards presented himself to the authorities of Bordeaux. In short, the whole thing failed. The Cordova regiment was broken up; changes were made in one or two garrisons; a number of arrests, especially of military men and newspaper editors, were made in Madrid; promotions and decorations were lavished upon certain officers, amongst whom were some who had betrayed to death the friends and confederates they had promised to support; the last of the insurgents were driven across the frontier; the government emerged from the brief struggle with renewed strength, and became daily more unconstitutional, arbitrary, and tyrannical.

Within a short time after the incidents I have thus briefly sketched, it was generally reported that the place where the Moderado opposition (noway discouraged by the disaster in Arragon) intended to make their next attempt, was Madrid itself. The conduct of the government in the mean time had certainly been such as to irritate its enemies, and rouse public indignation. No one was safe from the despotic system introduced. Illegal arrests were of frequent occurrence, made without a shadow of a pretext, and whose victims, conscious of no crime, were left to languish in prison, transported to the colonies, or escorted out of Spain. The opposition journals were daily seized, not only for the articles they published, but for the mere news they gave, as there were many things which ministers did not choose to have communicated to the nation except in the falsified version given by their own journals. The Clamor Publico, ably conducted by a staunch and wellknown liberal, Don Fernando Corradi; the Nacion, also a Progresista paper, whose editor, Rua Figueroa, still contrived to write in it from the concealment to which an order for his arrest had compelled him; the Diario Español and the Epoca, representing the

Moderado opposition, were the chief objects of ministerial oppression and vindictiveness, and day after day their columns were headed with the announcement, that their first edition had been seized by order of the censor. In spite of this persecution, they steadily persevered, opposing the government as well as they might, but prevented from exposing, otherwise than by inference and in a most guarded manner, the scandalous corruption and jobbing of the ministers and the court. Discontent was general, and daily increased. It was asked when the Cortes were to assemble, for only in their discussions did there seem a chance of such expression of public opinion as might alarm and check the men in power. These, however, had no intention of calling together the legislative chambers. They continued to make laws by decree, and to sanction, for the benefit of their friends and adherents, railways and other national works, for which the approval of the Cortes was to be asked at some future day. But that day has not yet come, nor will it come, so long as the present ministry is in office and the Queen-mother supports them, for she dreads, as much as they do, the exposure of the countless iniquitous speculations at the country's expense, in which she and her husband have been concerned, with the connivance and aid of the government, who thus repaid her for the countenance that often stood them in good stead against the intrigues of the camarilla headed by the Queen's favourite. Then there were frequent rumours of an approaching coup d'état, on the plan of that of December 1851 in France, or of that, nearly resembling it, which the bravoMurillo ministry had actually published, but had been unable to carry out. All this time (ever since the outbreak at Saragossa) the whole country was under martial law; no coup d'état could confer upon the government more arbitrary powers than those it already exercised-it could but legalise illegality. The case was vastly different in France and in Spain. In France, after a period of anarchy, succeeded by a conflict of political factions which rendered all government impossible, a man long depreciated, but now generally admitted to

be of commanding talent, and, we are justified in believing, of far more patriotic mind than he ever had credit for, cut the knot of the difficulty, at the cost, certainly, of constitutional forms, but, as many now think, for the real benefit of the nation. In Spain, the situation of affairs was quite otherwise. Where was here the vigorous intellect whose judgment, and firmness and foresight were to guide, without assistance and through many perils, the ship of the state. Was it that of the unfortunate, uneducated Queen, who detests business, and passes her life sunk in sloth and sensuality? Was it to be the upstart unscrupulous minister who, by sheer audacity (the most valuable quality for a Spanish politician who seeks but his own aggrandisement), had first crawled and afterwards pushed his way to the head of the royal council-board? Or would the arch-intriguer, Maria Christina, sketch the course her daughter should adopt when converted into an absolute sovereign? No, for her time was too much taken up in adding, at the expense of Spain, to her already incalculable wealth, and in planning marriages for her numerous daughters. In short, to carry into the higher sphere of politics the general and servile imitation of France now observable in Spain, was an idea repugnant to the Spanish nation, and which increased, if possible, the universal discontent that already prevailed-excited by the closing of the chambers, the violence used towards the independent press (which it was evidently intended to crush), the notorious corruption of the administration; the unsatisfactory state of the finances, tending inevitably to some extraordinary exactions from the already over-taxed people; and last, but not least, by the scandalous concessions daily made to the friends and adherents of the ministry, and to those influential persons, the Rianzares, Señor Arana, Mr Salamanca, and others, whose enmity the Sartorius cabinet dared not encounter, and whose support they were compelled to purchase.

It was understood that a military insurrection was contemplated, with O'Donnell at its head. The government affected to make light of the affair, but in reality they were not

without uneasiness, for they could not but feel-although they daily had it proclaimed by the hireling Heraldo that they were the saviours of the nation, and the most popular and prosperous of ministries-that they were execrated, and that all classes would rejoice in their downfall. It is difficult to convey to Englishmen except to those who may be personally acquainted with this singular country and people-a clear idea of the state of political affairs in Madrid during the second quarter of the present year. I must content myself with supplying a few detached facts and details, from which you may, perhaps, form a notion of the whole. For three months conspiracy may be said to have walked the streets of Madrid openly and in broad daylight. Almost every one knew that something was plotting, and a considerable number of persons could have told the names of the chief conspirators, and given some sort of general outline of their plans. O'Donnell, disobeying the orders of the Queen's government, remained hidden in Madrid, seeing numerous friends, but undiscoverable by the police. He had frequent meetings with his fellow-conspirators; his wife often saw him; for some time, during which he was seriously ill, he was daily visited by one of the first physicians in Madrid; still the government, although most anxious to apprehend him, failed in every attempt to discover his hidingplace, which was known to many. It is rare that the secrets of a conspiracy, when they have been confided to so large a number of persons, have been kept so well and for so long a time as in the present case; but this caution and discretion are easily explicable by the universal hatred felt for the present government and by the strong desire for its fall. The superior police authorities were bitterly blamed by the minister; large sums were placed at their disposal, numerous agents had assigned to them the sole duty of seeking O'Donnell. All was in vain. The government paid these agents well, but O'Donnell, as it afterwards appeared, paid them better. A portion, at least, of the men employed to detect him, watched ver his safety. The government,


ashamed of its impotence to capture, spread reports that he they sought had left Madrid; and, afterwards, that they knew where he was, but preferred leaving him there and watching his movements to seizing him and sending him out of the country, to prepare, on a foreign soil, revolutionary movements in the provinces of Spain. These ridiculous pretences imposed upon very few. Could the government have apprehended O'Donnell, they might not have dared to shoot him, and might have hesitated permanently to imprison him; but they would not have scrupled to ship him to the Philippines, where he would have done little mischief. The truth was, that they employed every means to discover his hiding-place, and every means proved ineffectual. O'Donnell, I am informed, was concealed in a house that communicated with the one next to it, which had back and front entrances. His friends and the friendly police kept strict watch. a night, when he sometimes went out to walk, his safety was cared for by the very men whom the authorities had commissioned to look for him, and who went away with him when he left Madrid to assume the command of the insurgents. A gentleman who, during a certain period, was in the habit of frequently seeing him, was one morning on his way to his place of concealment, and had entered the street in which it was situated, when a police agent, making him a sign, slipped a scrap of paper into his hand. On it were the words "Beware, you are watched." Taking the hint, the person warned passed the house to which he was going, and entered another, in the same street, where he had friends. From the window he observed a policeman, who had been loitering about as if in the ordinary discharge of his duty, hastily depart. When he had made sure that the coast was clear, he left the house, entered that in which O'Donnell was, saw him, passed into the next house, and departed by the back door. There was soon a cordon of police agents round the house into which he first had gone, but their vigilance was fruitless. I had this anecdote from one of the

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