army is at present on a peace establish. ment. It is, therefore, little more than a skeleton, except so far as may be required for our colonies. And yet for this outline of an army we pay more than seven millions per annum ; while upon our navy we expend nearly six millions, and on the ordnance a million and a half. A total of more than fourteen millions per annum is thus devoted to the defence of the country, and that at a moment when we have not a single declared enemy in the four quarters of the globe! "In conducting the civil service of the state, a similar liberal expenditure will be found to be incurred. A return was ordered, and laid before parliament in 1828, of the pay or salaries of all persons employed in public offices and departments; which return shewed a total of no less than 2,788,9871. paid in sa laries to persons employed in the service of the government. And even in one single branch of the public service, which is not included in the above sum, to wit, the offices connected with the care of the poor, and the litigation arising out of that care, about a million and a half is annually expended. These circumstances will shew the scale on which public business and public remuneration in this country is carried on, and will aid us in forming a just idea of the propriety of an endowment of 3,058,2481. set apart for the religious instruction of 10,701 parishes." We have not left ourselves space to follow this able and effective writer further. His lucid defence of episcopacy-his just and faithful analysis of the papal corruptions cherished by a party, and inflicted on all within the range of their influence and authority -his sound and sensible remonstrances with Dissenters, as men and professing Christians-and, above all, the temperate but triumphant tone of argument with which he clenches every statement, give this book a value that renders due to its writer the most fervent gratitude of every Churchman. It is a remarkable fact that, apart from any other claims and grounds of preference, episcopacy appears to be that form of ecclesiastical polity most fitted to survive the troublous times into which church and state are at this moment rushing, and by its very structure to present a breakwater to the torrent of tempestuous revolution, in which, and along which, the sects must necessarily be swept. It is now at least the duty of every writer to expend his ablest energies in the defence of these institutions, fragments of which are continually falling, and against which the enmity of Satan and the reckless and superficial assaults of Utopian theorists are unsparingly hurled. We hope, also, that Churchmen will take up solid, unchanging, and scriptural ground. We must not defend truth with the weapons of error. Our armoury is God's own Word: it alone can furnish the most successful defence and offence. Nor would we willingly shake one atom of attachment to ecclesiastical office and authority. We would nourish and strengthen it. We see in its maintenance the elements of endurance. But let our attachment gather its nutriment and its growth, not from the traditions of men or the assumptions of Rome, but from sacred writ, apostolic precedent, sober reason, and substantial fact. We cominend Essays on the Church to every reader, as a manual of enlightened writing-as far from the looseness of dissenterism as it is from the superstitions of popery-a just, powerful, and affectionate defence of the Anglican branch of the Catholic Church. MADAME has given a very lively account of the exploits of Monsieur Louis Dominic Cartouche; and in many other contemporary records his name is mentioned with applause. And as Newgate and the highways are so much the fashion with us in England, we may be allowed to look abroad for histories of a similar tendency, and to find that virtue is cosmopolite, and may exist among wooden-shoed Papists as well as honest Church-of-England men. Louis Dominic was born in a quarter of Paris called the Courtelle, says the historian, whose work lies before me; -born in the Courtelle, and in the year 1693. Another biographer asserts that he was born two years later, and in the Marais;-of respectable parents, of course. Think of the talent that our two countries produced about this time: Marlborough, Villars, Maudrin, Turpin, Boileau, Dryden, Swift, Addison, Molière, Racine, Jack Sheppard, and Louis Cartouche,-all famous within the same twenty years, and fighting, writing, robbing, à l'envi! Well, Marlborough was no chicken when he began to shew his genius; Swift was but a dull, idle college lad: but if we read the histories of some other great men mentioned in the above list-I mean the thieves, especially— we shall find that they all commenced very early they shewed a passion for their art, as little Raphael did, or little Mozart; and the history of Cartouche's knaveries begin almost with his breeches. Dominic's parents sent him to school at the college of Clermont (now Louis le Grand); and although it has never been discovered that the Jesuits, who directed that seminary, advanced him much in classical or theological knowledge, Cartouche, in revenge, shewed, by repeated instances, his own natural bent and genius, which no difficulties were strong enough to overcome. His first great action on record, although not successful in the end, and tinctured with the innocence of youth, is yet highly creditable to him. He made a general swoop of a hundred and twenty nightcaps belonging to his companions, and disposed of them to his satisfaction; but as it was discovered that of all the youths in the college of Clermont, he only was the possessor of a cap to sleep in, suspicion (which, alas! was confirmed) immediately fell upon him: and by this little piece of youthful naïveté, a scheme, prettily conceived and smartly performed, was rendered naught. Cartouche had a wonderful love for good eating, and put all the applewomen and cooks who came to supply the students under contribution. Not always, however, desirous of robbing these, he used to deal with them occasionally on honest principles of barter; that is, whenever he could get hold of his schoolfellows' knives, books, rulers, or playthings, which he used fairly to exchange for tarts and gingerbread. It seemed as if the presiding genius of evil was determined to patronise this young man; for before he had been long at college, and soon after he had with the greatest difficulty escaped from the nightcap scrape, an opportunity occurred by which he was enabled to gratify both his propensities at once, and not only to steal, but to steal sweetmeats. It happened that the principal of the college received some pots of Narbonne honey, which came under the eyes of Cartouche, and in which that young gentleman, as soon as ever he saw them, determined to put his fingers. The president of the college put aside his honey-pots in an apartment within his own; to which, except by the one door which led into the room which his reverence usually occupied, there was no outlet. There was no chimney in the room; and the windows looked into the court, where there was a porter at night, and where crowds passed by day. What was Cartouche to do? have the honey he must. a Over this chamber which contained what his soul longed after, and over the president's rooms, there ran set of unoccupied garrets, into which the dexterous Cartouche penetrated, These were divided from the rooms below, according to the fashion of those days, by a set of large beams, which reached across the whole building, and across which rude planks were laid, which formed the ceiling of the lower story and the floor of the upper. Some of these planks did young Cartouche remove; and having descended by means of a rope, tied a couple of others to the neck of the honey-pots, climbed back again, and drew up his prey in safety. He then cunningly fixed the planks again in their old places, and retired to gorge himself upon his booty. And, now, see the punishment of avarice! Every body knows that the brethren of the order of Jesus are bound by a vow to have no more than a certain small sum of money in their possession. The principal of the college of Clermont had amassed a larger sum in defiance of this rule; and where do you think the old gentleman had hidden it? In the honey-pots! As Cartouche dug his spoon into one of them, he brought, besides a quantity of golden honey, a couple of golden louis, which, with ninety-eight more of their fellows, were comfortably hidden in the pots. Little Dominic, who before had cut rather a poor figure among his fellow-students, now appeared in as fine clothes as any of them could boast of; and when asked by his parents, on going home, how he came by them, said that a young nobleman of his school-fellows had taken a violent fancy to him, and made him a present of a couple of his suits. Cartouche the elder, good man, went to thank the young nobleman; but no such could be fouud, and young Cartouche disdained to give any explanation of his manner of gaining the money. Here, again, we have to regret and remark the inadvertence of youth. Cartouche lost a hundred louis-for what? For a pot of honey not worth a couple of shillings. Had he fished out the pieces, and replaced the pots and the honey, he might have been safe, and a respectable citizen all his life after. The principal would not have dared to confess the loss of his money, and did not openly; but he vowed vengeance against the stealer of his sweetmeat, and a rigid search was made. Cartouche, as usual, was fixed upon; and in the tick of his bed, lo! there were found couple knowing how he would have escaped, had not the president himself been a little anxious to hush the matter up; and, accordingly, young Cartouche was made to disgorge the residue of his illgotten gold pieces, old Cartouche made up the deficiency, and his son was allowed to remain unpunished—until the next time. This you may fancy was not very long in coming; and though history has not made us acquainted with the exact crime which Louis Dominic next committed, it must have been a serious one; for Cartouche, who had borne philosophically all the whippings and punishments which were administered to him at college, did not dare to face that one which his indignant father had! in pickle for him. As he was coming home from school, on the first day after his crime, when he received permission i to go abroad, one of his brothers, who was on the look-out for him, met him on a short distance from home, and told him what was in preparation; which so frightened this young thief, that he declined returning home altogether, and set out upon the wide world to shift for himself as he could. Undoubted as his genius was, he had not arrived at the full exercise of it, and his gains were by no means equal to his appetite. In whatever professions he tried whether he joined the gipsies, which he did-whether he picked pockets on the Pont Neuf, which occupation history attributes to him-poor Cartouche was always hungry. Hungry and ragged, he wandered from one place and profession to another, and regretted the honey-pots at Clermont, and the comfortable soup and bouilli at home. Cartouche had an uncle, a kind man, who was a merchant, and had dealings at Rouen. One day, walking on the quays of that city, this gentleman saw a very miserable, dirty, starving lad, who had just made a pounce upon some bones and turnip-peelings that had been flung out on the quay, and was eating them as greedily as if they had been turkeys and truffles. The worthy man examined the lad a little closer. O heavens! it was their runaway prodigal-it was little Louis Dominic! The merchant was touched by his case; and forgetting the nightcaps, the honey-pots, and the rags and dirt « «lile Lauis took him to his arms, tenderest affection. Louis kissed and hugged too, and blubbered a great deal -he was very repentant, as a man often is when he is hungry; and he went home with his uncle, and his peace was made; and his mother got him new clothes, and filled his belly, and for a while Louis was as good a son as might be. But why attempt to balk the progress of genius? Louis's was not to be kept down. He was sixteen years of age by this time-a smart, lively young fellow, and, what is more, desperately enamoured of a lovely washerwoman. To be successful in your love, as Louis knew, you must have something more than mere flames and sentiment ;washer, or any other woman, cannot live upon sighs only, but must have new gowns and caps, and a necklace every now and then, and a few handkerchiefs and silk stockings, and a treat into the country or to the play. Now, how are all these to be had without money? Cartouche saw at once that it was impossible; and as his father would give him none, he was obliged to look for it elsewhere. He took to his old courses, and lifted a purse here, and a watch there; and found, moreover, an accommodating gentleman, who took the wares off his hands. This gentleman introduced him into a very select and agreeable society, in which Cartouche's merit began speedily to be recognised, and in which he learned how pleasant it is in life to have friends to assist one, and how much may be done by a proper division of labour. M. Cartouche, in fact, formed part of a regular company or gang of gentlemen, who were associated together for the purpose of making war on the public and the law. Cartouche had a lovely young sister, who was to be married to a rich young gentleman from the provinces. As is the fashion in France, the parents had arranged the match among themselves; and the young people had never met until just before the time appointed for the marriage, when the bridegroom came up to Paris with his title-deeds, and settlements, and money. Now, there can hardly be found in history a finer instance of devotion than Cartouche now exhibited. He went to his captain, explained the matter to him, and actually, for the good of his country, as it were (the thieves might be called hi country), sacrificed his sister's hus band's property. Informations were taken, the house of the bridegroom was reconnoitred, and one night Cartouche, in company with some chosen friends, made his first visit to the house of his brother-in-law. All the people were gone to bed; and, doubtless for fear of disturbing the porter, Cartouche and his companions spared him the trouble of opening the door, by ascending quietly at the window. They arrived at the room where the bridegroom kept his great chest, and set industriously to work, filing and picking the locks which defended the treasure. The bridegroom slept in the next room; but however tenderly Cartouche and his workmen handled their tools, from fear of disturbing his slumbers, their benevolent design was disappointed, for awaken him they did; and quietly slipping out of bed, he came to a place where he had a complete view of all that was going on. He did not cry out, or frighten himself sillily, but, on the contrary, contented himself with watching the countenances of the robbers, so that he might recognise them on another occasion; and, though an avaricious man, he did not feel the slightest anxiety about his moneychest, for the fact is he had removed all the cash and papers the day before. As soon, however, as they had broken all the locks, and found the nothing which lay at the bottom of the chest, he shouted with such a loud voice," Here, Thomas-John!-officer !-keep the gate, fire at the rascals!" that they, incontinently taking fright, skipped nimbly out of window, and left the house free. Cartouche after this did not care to meet his brother-in-law, but eschewed all such occasions in which the latter was to be present at his father's house. The evening before the marriage came, and then his father insisted upon his appearance among the other relatives of the bride's and bridegroom's families, who were all to assemble and make merry. Cartouche was obliged to yield, and brought with him one or two of his companions, who had been, by the way, present in the affair of the empty money-boxes. Cartouche never fancied that there was any danger in meeting his brother-in-law, for he had no idea that he had been seen in the night of the attack; but, with a natural modesty which did him really credit, he kept out of the young bridegroom's sight as much as he could, and shewed no desire to be presented to him. At supper, however, as he was sneaking modestly down to a side-table, his father shouted after him, "Ho, Dominic, come hither, and sit opposite your brother-in-law :" which Dominic did, his friends following. The bridegroom pledged him very gracefully in a bumper; and was in the act of making him a pretty speech, on the honour of an alliance with such a family, and on the pleasures of brother-in-lawship in general, when, looking in his face, ye gods! he saw the very man who had been filing at his money-chest a few nights ago! By his side, too, sat a couple more of the gang. The poor fellow turned deadly pale and sick, and, setting his glass down, ran quickly out of the room, for he thought he was in company of a whole gang of robbers. And when he got home, he wrote a letter to the elder Cartouche, humbly declining any connexion with his family. Cartouche the elder, of course, angrily asked the reason of such an abrupt dissolution of the engagement; and then, much to his horror, heard of his eldest son's doings. "You would not have me marry into such a family?" said the ex-bridegroom. And old Čartouche, an honest old citizen, confessed, with a heavy heart, that he would not. What was he to do with the lad? He did not like to ask for a lettre-de-cachet, and shut him up in the Bastile. He determined to give him a year's discipline at the monastery of St. Lazare. But how to catch the young gentleman? Old Cartouche knew that, were he to tell his son of the scheme, the latter would never obey, and, therefore, he determined to be very cunning. He told Dominic that he was about to make a heavy bargain with the fathers, and should require a witness; so they stepped into a carriage together, and drove unsuspectingly to the Rue St. Denis. But when they arrived near the convent, Cartouche saw several ominous figures gathering round the coach, and felt that his doom was sealed. However, he made as if he knew nothing of the conspiracy; and the carriage drew up, and his father descended, and, bidding him wait for a minute in the coach, promised to return to him. Cartouche looked out on the other side of the way half a dozen men were posted, evidently with the intention of arresting Cartouche now performed a great and celebrated stroke of genius, which, if he had not been professionally employed in the morning, he never could have executed. He had in his pocket a piece of linen, which he had laid hold of at the door of some shop, and from which he quickly tore three suitable stripes. One he tied round his head, after the fashion of a nightcap; a second, round his waist, like an apron; and with the third he covered his hat, a round one, with a large brim. His coat and his periwig he left behind him in the carriage; and when be stepped out from it (which he did without asking the coachman to let down the steps), he bore exactly the appearance of a cook's boy carrying a dish; and with this he slipped through the crempts quite unsuspected, and bade adieu to the Lazarists and his honest father, who came out speedily to seek him, and was not a little annoyed to find only his hat and wig. With that hat and wig, Cartouche left home, father, friends, conscience, remorse, society, behind him. He discovered (like a great number of other philosophers and poets, when they have committed rascally actions) that the world was all going wrong, and he quarrelled with it outright. One of the first stories told of the illustrious Cartouche, when he became professionally and openly a robber, redounds highly to his credit, and shews that he knew how to take advantage of the occasion, and how much he had improved in the course of a very few years' experience. His courage and ingenuity were vastly admired by his friends; so much so, that one day the captain of the band thought fit to compliment him, and vowed that when he (the captain) died, Cartouche should infallibly be called to the command-inchief. This conversation, so flattering to Cartouche, was carried on between the two gentlemen, as they were walking one night on the quays by the side of the Seine. Cartouche, when the captain made the last remark, blushingly protested against it, and pleaded his extreme youth as a reason why his comrades could never put entire trust in them." Psha, man!" said the captain, "thy youth is in thy favour; thou wilt live only the longer to lead thy troops to victory. As for strength, bravery, and cunning, wert thou as old |