ally cleared. Still the father of the prisoners remained between his two attendants nearly insensible. He was almost the last to depart. I followed him out. It was a dark and stormy night. The wind beat full against the miserable wretch, and made him totter as he went along. His attendants were addressing to him some words of consolation connected with religion, (for these people are, with all their crimes, not destitute of religious impressions,) but the old man only answered them with his moans. He said nothing articulate, but during all the way to the obscure cellar into which they led him, continued moaning as he went. It was not, I trust, a mere love of the excitement which arises from the contemplation of scenes in which the passions are brought out, that made me watch this scene of human misery. I may say without affectation, that I was, (as who would not have been?) profoundly moved by what I saw; and when I beheld this forlorn and desolate man descend into his wretched abode, which was lighted by a feeble candle, and saw him fall upon his knees in helplessness, while his attendants gave way to sorrow, I could not restrain my own tears. The scenes of misery did not stop here. Old John Russel pleaded guilty. He had two sons, lads of fifteen or sixteen, and, in the hope of saving them, acknowledged his crime at the bar; "Let them," he said, in the gaol where I saw him, "let them put me on the trap if they like, but let them spare the boys." most every offence was connected with the great agrarian organisation which prevails through the country. It must be acknowledged that, terrible as the misdeeds of the Tipperary peasantry must upon all hands be admitted to be, yet, in general, there was none of the meanness and turpitude observable in their enormities which characterise the crimes that are disclosed at an English assize. There were scarcely any examples of murder committed for mere gain. It seemed to be a point of honour with the malefactors to take blood, and to spurn at money. Almost every offence was committed in carrying a system into effect, and the victims who were sacrificed were considered by their immolators as offered up, upon a justifiable principle of necessary extermination. These are assuredly important facts, and after having contemplated these moral phenomena, it becomes a duty to inquire into the causes from which these marvellous atrocities derive their origin. The first and leading feature in the disturbances and atrocities of Tipperary is, that they are of an old date, and have been for much more than half a century of uninterrupted continuance. Arthur Young travelled in Ireland in the years 1776, 1777, and 1778. His excellent book is entitled "A Tour in Ireland, with general Observations on the Present State of that Kingdom." He adverts particularly to the state of the peasantry in the South of Ireland, and it is well worthy of remark that the outrages which are now in daily But I shall not proceed farther in commission, are of exactly the same the detail of these dreadful incidents. character as the atrocities which were There were many other trials at the perpetrated by the Whiteboys (as assizes, in which terrible disclosures the insurgents were called) in 1760. of barbarity took place. For three From the period at which these outweeks the two Judges were unre- rages commenced, the evil has conmittingly employed in trying cases tinued in a rapidly progressive augof dreadful atrocity, and in almost mentation. Every expedient which every instance the perpetrators of legislative ingenuity could invent has crimes the most detestable, were per- been tried. All that the terrors of sons whose general moral conduct the law could accomplish, has been stood in a wonderful contrast with put into experiment without avail. their isolated acts of depravity. Al- Special commissioners and special delegations of counsel have been almost annually despatched into the disturbed districts, and crime appears to have only undergone a pruning, while its roots remained untouched. Mr. Doherty is not the first Solicitor General of great abilities who has been despatched by Government for the purpose of awing the peasantry into their duty. The present Chief Justice of the King's Bench, upon filling Mr. Doherty's office, was sent upon the same painful errand, and after having been equally successful in procuring the conviction of malefactors, and brandished the naked sword of justice, with as puissant an arm, new atrocities have almost immediately afterwards broken forth, and furnished new occasions for the exercise of his commanding eloquence. It is reasonable to presume that the recent executions at Clonmel will not be attended with any more permanently useful consequences, and symptoms are already beginning to reappear, which, independently of the admonitions of experience, may well induce an apprehension that before much time shall go by, the law officers of the crown will have to go through the same terrible routine of prosecution. It is said, indeed, by many sanguine speculators on the public peace, that now, indeed, something effectual has been done, aud that the gaol and the gibbet there have given a lesson that will not be speedily forgotten. How often has the same thing been said when the scaffold was strewed with the same heaps of the dead! How often have the prophets of tranquillity been falsified by the event! If the crimes which, ever since the year 1760, have been uninterruptedly committed, and have followed in such a rapid and tumultuous succession, had been only of occasional occurrence, it would be reasonable to conclude that the terrors of the law could repress them. But it is manifest that the system of atrocity does not depend upon causes merely ephe meral, and cannot, therefore, be under the operation of temporary checks. We have not merely wit nessed sudden inundations which, af ter a rapid desolation, have suddenly subsided; we behold a stream as deep as it is dark, which indicates, by its continuous current, that it is derived from an unfailing fountain, and which, however augmented by the contribution of other springs of bitterness, must be indebted for its main supply to some abundant and distant source. Where then is the well-head to be found? Where are we to seek for the origin of evils, which are of such a character that they carry with them the clearest evidence that their causes must be as enduring as themselves? It may at first view, and to any man who is not well acquainted with the mural feel ings and habits of the great body of the population of Ireland, seem a pa radoxical proposition that the laws which affect the Roman Catholics furnish a clue by which, however complicated the mazes may be which constitute the labyrinth of calamity, it will not be difficult to trace our way. It may be asked, with a great appearance of plausibility, (and in deed it is often inquired,) what pos sible effect the exclusion of a few Roman Catholic gentlemen from Par liament, and of still fewer Roman Catholic barristers from the bench, can produce in deteriorating the mo ral habits of the people? This, however, is not the true view of the matter. The exclusion of Roman Catholics from office is one of the results of the penal code, but it is a sophism to suggest that it is the som total of the law itself, and that the whole of it might be resolved into that single proposition. The just mode of presenting the question would be this: "What effect does the penal code produce by separat ing the higher and the lower orders from each other ?" The law divides the Protestant proprietor from the Catholic tiller of the soil, and generates a feeling of tyrannical domination in the one, and of hatred and distrust in the other. The Irish peasant is not divided from his landlord by the ordinary demarcations of society. Another bar rier is erected, and, as if the poor and the rich were not already sufficiently separated, religion is raised as an additional boundary between them. The operation of the feelings, which are the consequence of this division, is stronger in the county of Tipperary than elsewhere. It is a peculiarly Cromwellian district, or, in other words, the holy warriors of the Protector chose it as their land of peculiar promise, and selected it as a favourite object of confiscation. The lower orders have good memories. There is scarce a peasant who, as he passes the road, will not point to the splendid mansions of the aristocracy, embowered in groves, or rising upon fertile elevations, and tell you the name of the pious Corporal, or the inspired Serjeant, from whom the present proprietors derive a title which, even at this day, appears to be of a modern origin. These reminiscences are of a most injurious tendency. But, after all, it is the system of religious separation which nurtures the passions of the peasantry with these pernicious recollections. They are not permitted to forget that Protestantism is stamped upon every institution in the country, and their own sunderance from the privileged class is perpetually brought to their minds. Judges, sheriffs, magistrates, Crown counsel, law officers,-all are Protestant. The very sight of a court of justice reminds them of the degradations attached to their religion, by presenting them with the ocular proof of the advantages and honours which belong to the legal creed. It is not, therefore, wonderful that they should feel themselves a branded caste; that they should have a consciousness that they belong to a debased and inferior community; and having no confidence in the upper classes, and no reliance in the sectarian administration of the law, that they should establish a code of barbarous legislation among themselves, and have recourse to what Lord Bacon calls "the wild justice" of revenge. A change of system would not perhaps produce immediate effects upon the character of the people; but I believe that its results would be much more speedy than is generally imagined. At all events, the experiment of conciliation is worth the trial. Every other expedient has been resorted to, and has wholly failed. It remains that the legislature, after exhausting all other means of tranquillising Ireland, should, upon a mere chance of success, adopt the remedy which has at least the sanction of illustrious names for its recommendation. The union of the two great classes of the people in Ireland, in other words, the emancipation of the Roman Catholics, is in this view not only recommended by motives of policy, but of humanity; for who that has witnessed the scenes which I have (perhaps at too much length) detailed in these pages, can fail to feel that, if the demoralisation of the people arises from bad government, the men who from feelings of partisanship persevere in that system of misrule, will have to render a terrible account ? STANZAS WRITTEN FOR MUSIC. LADY, why thus turn away Youth and beauty's sunny glance? Why, where all around are gay, Tread'st not thou the lightsome dance? Are thy thoughts on music bent, Is't for that thy young cheeks glow? Would'st thou hence the minstrel went ? Lady, no! lady, no! Hark! I hear a deep-drawn sigh! Yet that sigh what does it there? Near thee stands a youthful form, Looking thoughts no words may speak; Glances bright, and blushes warm, Light his eye, and rose his cheek; For he sings of " Love's young dream," O'er his lyre as bends he low; Would'st thou have him change the theme?" Lady, no! lady, no! GLEANINGS AT CONSTANTINOPLE. TH Like ancient Rome, Constantinople crowns the summit of seven hills, or rather acclivities, which are readily discernible as the eye traces its longitudinal expanse from the northern side of the harbour. Towards the south, it discovers the Mysian Olympos, clad in eternal snow, and immediately opposed to it, the Argauthonis, glorying in its forest of oaks and boe trees. Immediately behind Scutari, lies the double-peaked Damatris, (from an adjacent village now called Bolgarlu.) An hour spent in ascending to its summit is richly compensated by a finer prospect than you can elsewhere enjoy, of the delightful environs of this capital. Following the sinuous course of the Bosphorus from its very mouth, the view spreads across the thickly-studded towers of Constantinople to the expanding plains of the Propontis, where it encounters the Prince's and Marmaric Isles, and thence stretches to the far-distant mouth of the Hellespont. The celebrated "Mountain of Giants," rises immediately from the Asiatic shore of the Bosphorus, near its uppermost narrowing, opposite to Berjukdere. The foot of this mountain was formerly adorned by the temple of Jupiter Urios, from whence the heathens proceeded to explore the "Camp of Hercules" on its summit. The gigantic site of this encampment is still an object of pil grimage to the pious Moslem, who, by the way, has transformed it into the "tomb of the prophet Joshua !" The Koran lays down seven seas as the basis of Mohammedan hydrography, and therefore right dear to the eye of its disciple, are the seven great reservoirs of the Propontis, the Bosphorus, the Pontus, the Palus Mæotis, the Hellespont, the Egean, and the Mediterranean. Whilst on this subject, I cannot refrain from observing that the fertile imagination of the East has baptised the seven great oceans of his globe with the names of so many colours. In his geographical nomenclature, there fore, the Archipelago and Mediter ranean become the White, the Pontus or Euxine the Black, the Caspian the Green, the Arabian gulph the Red, the Persian the Blue, the Chinese the Yellow, and the Atlantic, the Brown, or dark seas. For extent and depth, there is probably no harbour in the world superior to Constantinople. Is breadth, between the point of the Seraglio and Topchana is not less than five hundred fathoms; its length exceeds four thousand; and its depth is so great, that the largest vessels may cast anchor close to its marge. By means of a constant current, nature has provided for an immediate removal of those fetid and insalu brious disgorgings, which are the inevitable concomitants of populous cities. The entrance to this magnificent harbour is somewhat impeded by the conflicting streams, which join, and issue at its mouth, but when once it is effected, the mariner may defy the virulence of wind and waves. Here, again, I must have my own way, and remind you, that the. wealth, which this harbour formerly boasted, both upon the surface of its waters as well as below them, induced the ancients to call it Chrysokeras, or the "Golden Horn." For, so says the old story, being pursued by the jealousy of Here, and arriving at the promontory of Semistra, she was overtaken by the pains of childbirth, and brought forth a daughter, who bore the symbol of her parents' transformation on her forehead; hence she received the name of Keroessa, the cornuted, and Semistra became her nurse. And it was her son by Poseidon, to whom ancient Byzantium is indebted for its foundation. Geologically and historically speaking, Keroessa's marriage with Poseidon implies, that the fresh waters of the Cydaris and Barbysis, which intermingle at the foot of the promontory of Semistra, united themselves with the briny stream of the harbour; and the issue of this union was the aforesaid Bysas. Constantinople, placed under the forty-first degree of northern latitude, has been no less favoured in regard to climate than position, and enjoys a delightful succession of seasons; soft and refreshing breezes alternating through the placid heat of summer and temperate chills of winter. For these reasons, I am justified in pronouncing it an extremely salubrious spot, notwithstanding the frightful drawback of the plague; an affliction, however, which is by no means ascribable to the climate, but to the neglect of medical precautions. Though the spring enlivens the charming month of February, it loses much more of its charms, after the vernal equinox, than might have been expected in so southerly a clime; in fact, the bland amenity of the Bithynian succumbs under the rigour of the Thracian sky; and hence, the alternate prevalence of northerly and southerly winds at this season of the year occasions a variableness of temperature, sufficient to bring the indisputable fineness and salubrity of the remaining seasons into disrepute. On the first of May, (old style,) spring achieves her irrevocable triumph over winter. Whilst many an European is busied in devoting this 58 ATHENEUM, VOL. 9, 2d series. day to the planting of May-trees, and many an Indian in attending the sacred procession of the palm, the Grecian maiden rises before the dawn and sallies forth, with her companions, in quest of the dew-tipt erstlings of spring: the whole day is dedicated to mirth and recreation; and the declining sun sheds its crim son ray on the blithsome Romaika, "tripping o'er the glade with light, fantastic toe." The first of May, as well as the first of April, still retains its votaries, from the Ganges to the Thames; but the arrival of the first of March, a day peculiarly sacred to the ancient Romans, is celebrated among the Greeks by an observance, which they have inherited from their ancestors. On the eve of this day, the Greek women fling their old pots and household gear out of the window, duly singing out, "Away with ye, bugs and fleas; welcome, bride and joy!" This is nothing more nor less than the cere mony of the Bulimos, of which Plutarch endeavours to trace the origin in his conversations. (Sympos. VI. 8.) The only difference is that the ancient Grecian was more decorous in his ejaculation; "Away," he vociferated, " Away with starvation! Welcome wealth and health!” To those who may be desirous of witnessing the celebration of the festivals, which take place at the beginning, middle, and close of spring, I recommend a very cautious exposure of their persons in the narrow streets of Pera on the eve of the first of March; otherwise, their skull or limbs may bear away an unpleasant memorial of the ejections issuing from the pious matron's casement. Nothing can be more exhilarating than a visit to the "Prince's Isles" ou the first of May, when the Greeks are released from the presence of their taskmasters, and give a loose to the joyous gaiety of their native dispositions. Often, too, have I roamed, at this season of the year, to the banks of the canal, where Berjokdere and the other Greek villages exhibit a line of bonfires, which convert the |