season of the year the day was hot, unnaturally so; and the sky filled with those massive clouds, piled like mountains of snow one upon another, which, while they both please the eye by their forms and veil the fierce splendours of the sun as they now and then sail across his face, at the same time portend wind and storm. All Rome was early astir. It was ushered in by the criers traversing the streets and proclaiming the rites and spectacles of the day, what they were and where to be witnessed, followed by troops of boys imitating in their grotesque way the pompous declarations of the men of authority, not unfrequently drawing down upon their heads the curses and the batons of the insulted dignitaries..... At the appointed hour we were at the palace of Aurelian on the Palatine, where a procession, pompous as art and rank and numbers could make it, was formed, to move thence by a winding and distant route to the temple near the foot of the Quirinal. Julia repaired with Portia to a place of observation near the temple-I to the palace to join the company of the emperor. Of the gorgeous magnificence of the procession I shall tell you nothing. It was in extent and variety of pomp and costliness of decoration, a copy of that of the late triumph, and went even beyond the captivating splendour of the example. Roman music-which is not that of Palmyra-lent such charms as it could to our passage through the streets to the temple, from a thousand performers.

As we drew near to the lofty fabric, I thought that no scene of such various beauty and magnificence had ever met my eye. The temple itself is a work of unrivalled art. In size it surpasses any other building of the same kind in Rome, and for the excellence in workmanship and purity of design, although it may fall below the standard of Hadrian's age, yet for a certain air of grandeur and luxuriance of invention in its details, and lavish profusion of embellishment in gold and silver, no temple or other edifice of any preceding age ever perhaps resembled it. Its order is the Corinthian, of the Roman form, and the entire building is surrounded by its slender columns, each composed of a single piece of marble. Upon the front is wrought Apollo surrounded by the Hours. The western extremity is approached by a flight of steps of the same breadth as the temple itself. At the eastern there extends beyond the walls to a distance equal to the length of the building a marble platform, upon which stands the altar of sacrifice, and which is ascended by various flights of steps, some little more than a gently rising plain, up which the beasts are led that are destined to the altar.

When this vast extent of wall and column of the most dazzling brightness came into view, everywhere covered, together with the surrounding temples, palaces and theatres, with a dense mass of human beings, of all climes and regions, dressed out in their richest attire-music from innumerable instruments filling the heavens with harmony-shouts of the proud and excited populace every few moments and from different points, as Aurelian advanced, shaking the air with its thrilling din-the neighing of horses, the frequent blasts of the trumpet-the

whole made more solemnly imposing by the vast masses of cloud which swept over the sky, now suddenly unveiling and again eclipsing the sun, the great god of this idolatry, and from which few could withdraw their gaze;-when at once this all broke upon my eye and ear, I was like a child who before had never seen aught but his own village and his own rural temple, in the effect wrought upon me, and the passiveness with which I abandoned myself to the sway of the senses. Not one there was more ravished by the outward circumstance and show. I thought of Rome's thousand years, of her power, her greatness and universal empire, and for a moment my step was not less proud than that of Aurelian. But after that moment-when the senses had had their fill, when the eye had seen the glory, and the ear had fed upon the harmony and the praise, then I thought and felt very differently; sorrow and compassion for these gay multitudes were at my heart; prophetic forebodings of disaster, danger, and ruin to those to whose sacred cause I had linked myself, made my tongue to falter in its speech and my limbs to tremble. I thought that the superstition that was upheld by the wealth and the power, whose manifestations were before me, had its roots in the very centre of the earth-far too deep down for a few like myself ever to reach them. I was like one whose last hope of life and escape is suddenly struck away.

I was roused from these meditations by our arrival at the eastern front of the temple. Between the two central columns, on a throne of gold and ivory, sat the emperor of the world, surrounded by the senate, the colleges of augurs and haruspices, and by the priests of the various temples of the capital, all in their peculiar costume. Then Fronto, the priest of the temple, when the crier had proclaimed that the hour of worship and sacrifice had come, and had commanded silence to be observed

standing at the altar, glittering in his white and golden robes like a messenger of light-bared his head, and lifting his face up toward the sun, offered in clear and sounding tones the prayers of dedication. As he came toward the close of his prayer, he, as is so usual, with loud and almost frantic cries and importunate repetition, called upon the god to hear him, and then with appropriate names and praises invoked the Father of gods and men to be present and hear. Just as he had thus solemnly invoked Jupiter by name, and was about to call upon the other gods in the same manner, the clouds, which had been deepening and darkening, suddenly obscured the sun; a distant peal of thunder rolled along the heavens, and at the same moment from the dark recesses of the temple a voice of preternatural power came forth, proclaiming so that the whole multitude heard the words-" God is but one; the king eternal, immortal, invisible." It is impossible to describe the horror that seized those multitudes. Many cried out with fear, and each seemed to shrink behind the other. Paleness sat upon every face. The priest paused as if struck by a power from above. Even the brazen Fronto was appalled. Aurelian leaped from his seat, and by his countenance, white and awe-struck, showed

that to him it came as a voice from the gods. He spoke not, but stood gazing at the dark entrance into the temple from which the sound had come. Fronto hastily approached him, and whispering but one word as it were into his ear, the emperor started; the spell that bound him was dissolved; and recovering himself-making indeed as though a very different feeling had possessed him—cried out in fierce tones to his guards:

"Search the temple; some miscreant hid away among the columns profanes thus the worship and the place. Sieze him and drag him forth to instant death."

The guards of the emperor and the servants of the temple rushed in at that bidding and searched in every part the interior of the building. They soon emerged, saying that the search was fruitless. The temple in all its aisles and apartments was empty.

The ceremonies, quiet being again restored, then went on. Twelve bulls, of purest white and of perfect forms, their horns bound about with fillets, were now led by the servants of the temple up the marble steps to the front of the altar, where stood the cultrarii and haruspices, ready to slay them and examine their entrails. The omens as gathered by the eyes of all from the fierce strugglings and bellowings of the animals as they were led toward the place of sacrifice-some even escaping from the hands of those who had the management of them --and from the violent and convulsive throes of others as the blow fell upon their heads, or the knife severed their throats, were of the darkest character, and brought a deep gloom upon the brow of the emperor. The report of the haruspices upon examination of the entrails was little calculated to remove that gloom. It was for the most part unfavourable. Especially appalling was the sight of a heart so lean and withered that it scarce seemed possible it should ever have formed a part of a living animal. But more harrowing than all was the voice of Fronto, who prying with the haruspices into the smoking carcass of one of the slaughtered bulls, suddenly cried out with horror that "no heart was to be found."

The emperor, hardly to be restrained by those near him from some expression of anger, ordered a more diligent search to be made.

"It is not in nature that such a thing should be," he said. "Men are, in truth, sometimes without hearts; but brutes, as I think, never."

The report was however confidently confirmed. Fronto himself approached, and said that his eye had from the first been upon the beast, and the exact truth had been stated.

The carcasses, such parts as were for the flames, were then laid upon the vast altar, and the flames of the sacrifice ascended.

The heavens were again obscured by thick clouds, which, accumulating into dark masses, began now nearer and nearer to shoot forth lightning and roll their thunders. The priest commenced the last

office, prayer to the god to whom the new temple had been thus solemnly consecrated. He again bowed his head, and again lifted up his voice. But no sooner had he invoked the god of the temple and besought his ear, than again from its dark interior the same awful sounds issued forth, this time saying "Thy gods, O Rome, are false and lying gods. God is but one."

Aurelian, pale as it seemed to me with superstitious fear, strove to shake it off, giving it artfully and with violence the appearance of offended dignity. His voice was a shriek rather than a human utterance, as he cried out,

"This is but a Christian device; search the temple till the accursed Nazarene be found, and hew him piecemeal-" more he would have said, but at the instant a bolt of lightning shot from the heavens, and lighting upon a large sycamore which shaded a part of the temple court, clove it in twain. The swollen cloud at the same moment burst, and a deluge of rain poured upon the city, the temple, the gazing multitudes, and the just kindled altars. The sacred fires went out in hissing and darkness; a tempest of wind whirled the limbs of the slaughtered victims into the air, and abroad over the neighbouring streets. All was confusion, uproar, terror and dismay. The crowds sought safety in the houses of the nearest inhabitants, and the porches of the palaces. Aurelian and the senators, and those nearest him, fled to the interior of the temple. The heavens blazed with the quick flashing of the lightning, and the temple itself seemed to rock beneath the voice of the thunder. I never knew in Rome so terrific a tempest. The stoutest trembled, for life hung by a thread. Great numbers, it has now been found, in every part of the capitol, fell a prey to the fiery bolts. The capitol itself was struck, and the brass statue of Vespasian in the forum thrown down and partly melted. The Tiber in a few hours overran its banks, and laid much of the city on its borders under water.

But ere long the storm was over. The retreating clouds, but still sullenly muttering in the distance as they rolled away, were gaily lighted up by the sun, which again shone forth in his splendour. The scattered limbs of the victims were collected and again laid upon the altar. Dry wood being brought, the flames quickly shot upward and consumed to the last joint and bone the sacred offerings. Fronto once more stood before the altar, and now, uninterrupted, performed the last office of the ceremony. Then around the tables spread within the temple to the honour of the gods, feasting upon the luxuries contributed by every quarter of the earth, and filling high with wine, the adverse omens of the day were by most forgotten. But not by Aurelian. No smile was seen to light up his dark countenance. The jests of Varus and the wisdom of Porphyrius alike failed to reach him. Wrapped up in his own thoughts, he brooded gloomily over what had happened, and strove to read the interpretation of portents so unusual and alarming.

Presidency Mr. Bancroft was superseded as Collector of Boston, but the democrats came into power again in 1844, and he was then called into the Cabinet, as Secretary of the Navy. Here he was a bold and fearless reformer, in a department in which much reform was needed, and though many of his recommendations respecting the Navy were not adopted, for reasons quite independent of their inherent character, no minister has exerted a more powerful or advantageous influence upon this branch of the public service.* He resigned his place in the cabinet in September, 1846, was immediately after appointed Minister Plenipotentiary to Great Britain, and in the month of October arrived in London, where he resided until 1849.

Mr. Bancroft's History of the United States is one of the great works of the present age, stamped more plainly with its essential character than any other of a similar sort that has been written. The subject of the birth and early experiences of a radically new and thoroughly independent nation, has a deep philosophical interest, which to the historian is in stead of that dramatic attraction of which the few incidents in the progress of many small communities, scattered over a continent, independent of each other, and all dependent on a foreign power, are necessarily destitute. This Mr. Bancroft perceives, and entering deeply into the spirit of the times, he becomes insensibly the advocate of the cause of freedom, which invalidates his testimony. He suffers too much "his passion to instruct his reason." He is more mastered by his subject than himself master of it. Liberty with him is not the result of an analytical process, but the basis of his work, and he builds upon it synthetically.

When Mr. Bancroft commenced his labours, the very valuable but incomplete history by Judge Marshall was the only work on the subject by a native author that was deserving of much praise. Grahame's faithful history of the Colonization, and the brilliant account of the Revolution by Botta, were acknowledged to be the best histories of the country for their respective periods. This fact alone was sufficient to guide an American historian

Among many things for which the country is indebted to Mr. Bancroft the Secretary, are the Nautical School of Alexandria and the Astronomical Observatory of Washington.

in the choice of his theme, had he been less deeply imbued than Mr. Bancroft with the principles which our history illustrates.Whatever may be the merit of some of Mr. Bancroft's opinions, there are in the volumes he has published no signs of a superficial study of events. His narrative is based on contemporary documents, and he has shown remarkable patience in collecting, and in assorting, comparing and arranging them. In this respect his work is singularly faithful.

In regard to the characters and adventures of many of the early discoverers, the principles and policies of the founders of several of the states, and the peculiarities and influences of the various classes of colonists, the details are full and the reflections eminently philosophical. The languages, religions, and rural and warlike customs of the Indians, are also treated in a manner that evinces much research and ingenuity.

Mr. Bancroft's style is elaborate, scholarly, and forcible, though sometimes not without a visible effort at eloquence, and there is occasionally a dignity of phrase that is not in keeping with the subject matter. It lacks the delightful ease and uniform proportion which mark the diction of Prescott.

He is evidently sincere in the principles he advocates, though in a few points of minor importance he has evinced some unsteadiness of conviction. Altogether his work is equal to its great reputation in general ability, research and originality, and it is eminently American, in the best sense of that word as used in regard to literature.

Mr. Bancroft's History has been translated into several foreign languages, and the German version recently passed to a fourth edition. It has been republished in its original language in London and Paris.

The fourth and fifth volumes of the History of the United States, being the first and second volumes of the History of the Revolution, I believe are now stereotyped, and will be published as soon as Mr. Bancroft is relieved from his public duties.

Besides the works of Mr. Bancroft which I have mentioned, he has published an abridgement of his History of the Colonization of the United States, several orations, and a few articles in the North American and Boston Quarterly Reviews.

VIRGINIA.

FROM THE HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES.

VIRGINIA had long been the home of its inhabitants. "Among many other blessings," said their statute-book, " God Almighty hath vouchsafed increase of children to this colony; who are now multiplied to a considerable number," and the huts in the wilderness were as full as the birds-nests of the woods.

The genial climate and transparent atmosphere delighted those who had come from the denser air of England. Every object in nature was new and wonderful. The loud and frequent thunder-storms were phenomena that had been rarely witnessed in the colder summers of the north; the forests, majestic in their growth, and free from underwood, deserved admiration for their unrivalled magnificence; the purling streams and the frequent rivers, flowing between alluvial banks, quickened the everpregnant soil into an unwearied fertility; the strangest and the most delicate flowers grew familiarly in the fields; the woods were replenished with sweet barks and odours; the gardens matured the fruits of Europe, of which the growth was invigorated and the flavour improved by the activity of the virgin mould. Especially the birds, with their gay plumage and varied melodies, inspired delight; every traveller expressed his pleasure in listening to the mocking-bird, which carolled a thousand several tunes, imitating and excelling the notes of all its rivals. The humming-bird, so brilliant in its plumage and so delicate in its form, quick in motion yet not fearing the presence of man, haunting about the flowers like the bee gathering honey, rebounding from the blossoms into which it dips its bill, and as soon returning "to renew its many addresses to its delightful objects," was ever admired as the smallest and the most beautiful of the feathered race. The rattle-snake, with the terrors of its alarms and the power of its venom; the opossum, soon to become as celebrated for the care of its offspring as the fabled pelican; the noisy frog, booming from the shallows like the English bittern; the flying-squirrel; the myriads of pigeons, darkening the air with the immensity of their flocks, and, as men believed, breaking with their weight the boughs of trees on which they alighted,-were all honoured with frequent commemoration and became the subjects of the strangest tales. The concurrent relation of all the Indians justified the belief, that, within ten days' journey toward the setting of the sun, there was a country where gold might be washed from the sand, and where the natives themselves had learned the use of the crucible; but definite and accurate as were the accounts, inquiry was always baffled, and the regions of gold remained for two centuries an undiscovered land.

Various were the employments by which the calmness of life was relieved. George Sandys, an idle man, who had been a great traveller, and who did not remain in America, a poet whose verse was tolerated by Dryden and praised by Izaak Walton, beguiled the ennui of his seclusion by translating the whole of Ovid's Metamorphoses. To

the man of leisure, the chase furnished a perpetual resource. It was not long before the horse was multiplied in Virginia; and to improve that noble animal was early an object of pride, soon to be favoured by legislation. Speed was especially valued; and "the planter's pace" became a proverb.

Equally proverbial was the hospitality of the Virginians. Labour was valuable; land was cheap; competence promptly followed industry. There was no need of a scramble; abundance gushed from the earth for all. The morasses were alive with water-fowl; the creeks abounded with oysters, heaped together in inexhaustible beds; the rivers were crowded with fish; the forests were nimble with game; the woods rustled with covies of quails and wild-turkies, while they rung with the merry notes of the singing birds; and hogs, swarming like vermin, ran at large in troops. It was "the best poor man's country in the world." If a happy peace be settled in poor England," it had been said, "then they in Virginia shall be as happy a people as any under heaven." But plenty encouraged indolence. No domestic manufactures were established; every thing was imported from England. The chief branch of industry, for the purpose of exchanges, was tobacco-planting; and the spirit of invention was enfeebled by the uniformity of pursuit.

66

CONNECTICUT.

FROM THE SAME.

CONNECTICUT, from the first, possessed unmixed popular liberty. The government was in honest and upright hands; the little strifes of rivalry never became heated; the magistrates were sometimes persons of no ordinary endowments; but though gifts of learning and genius were valued, the state was content with virtue and single-mindedness; and the public welfare never suffered at the hands of plain men. Roger Willians had ever been a welcome guest at Hartford; and "that heavenly man, John Haynes," would say to him, "I think, Mr. Williams, I must now confess to you, that the most wise God hath provided and cut out this part of the world as a refuge and receptacle for all sorts of consciences." There never existed a persecuting spirit in Connecticut; while "it had a scholar to their minister in every town or village." Education was cherished; religious knowledge was carried to the highest degree of refinement, alike in its application to moral duties, and to the mysterious questions on the nature of God, of liberty, and of the soul. A hardy race multiplied along the alluvion of the streams, and subdued the more rocky and less inviting fields; its population for a century doubled once in twenty years, in spite of considerable emigration; and if, as has often been said, the ratio of the increase of population is the surest criterion of public happiness, Connecticut was long the happiest state in the world. Religion united with the pursuits of agriculture, to give to the land the aspect of salubrity. The domestic wars were discussions of knotty points in theology; the con