The Bride's Father-Last Hours of the King of Prussia-To the Memory of a Child. 461

THE ROSE OF CASHMERE.

A BALLAD.

SUNG BY MR. WILSON-THE WORDS BY CHARLES D. SILLERY-THE MUSIC BY GEORGE BARKER.

WELLINGTON AND THE PAINTER OF NAPOLEON.

cry." In another place he was seen in his imperial cabinet, dictating missives on which hung the fate of nations. All around the apartment, in short, the English visiters saw the lineaments of their late great enemy.

Madame David was informed by her domestic that an English party sought admission to the presence of the painter, and she went to her husband's studio to know whether or not he would see them. "Yes," said he, in reply to her; "admit them here." Although he said so, however, a change came over his countenance, which indicated that the name of the English was not associated in his mind with agreeable emotions. He was at the moment engaged in painting his fine picture of Eucharis and Telemachus, and it was perhaps to dispel the feeling which had been excited by Madame David's announcement, that, after answering her, he turned He had his pallette in one hand, and bis again to his task. brush elevated in the other, when the Duke of Wellington David had already and his attendants entered the studio. become so re-absorbed in his occupation, that he did not turn immediately round; but a movement of the visiters soon made him aware of their presence, and he turned his face to them. Then, for the first time, he saw their uniforms, and knew they were soldiers.

In the whole annals of Napoleon Bonaparte, there is nothing so touching as the fidelity evinced towards him in his adversity by many of those who had shared the good fortune of his earlier days. The time is come when we can look on the career of the wonderful Corsican with some degree of impartiality, and can do justice to such traits of personal devotion as those alluded to, which are rendered the more remarkable by the numerous instances recorded in history of an opposite line of behavior. Among those most attached to Napoleon, alike in his prosperity and adversity, David the painter held a prominent place. He was the favorite artist of the emperor, and showed, by his pictures of Belisarius, of Socrates, of Brutus, of the Horatii, of the Passover, of Leonidas, and finally of the Crossing of the Alps and Coronation of Napoleon, that, as an artist at least, he well merited the patAfter the coronation picture, just menronage of his master. tioned, had been finished, Napoleon went to see it in the studio of the artist. The courtiers who were with him, being all of them well acquainted with David, addressed him with congratulations of a very familiar kind on his success. emperor checked them, observing, in that pointed manner which gave a historical force to many of his sayings, tlemen, be aware that M. David is a baron of the empire"-lington." the first announcement which the painter had had of the honor intended for him

The

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It

David, as has been said, repaid the favor and friendship of Napoleon with the profoundest admiration and reverence. may be supposed, therefore, that the disastrous events of 1814 and 1315 were productive to him of unmitigated sorrow. He also suffered personally from the change of affairs, being proHe remained, scribed and compelled to fly from France. however, as near its confines as possible, Brussels being the place where he took up his residence. Shortly after the final downfall of his old master in 1815, an incident took place which seems to us to have something affecting in it, and to be worthy of relation.

David continued his artistical labors at Brussels. Indeed, within a few months he collected round him a number of young painters, who sought with avidity his instructions in art. From the stirring nature of the scenes in which he had passed his life, he was enabled to mingle his professional lessons with numberless anecdotes, both personal and historical, and these he always managed to make interesting, in spite of an impediment in utterance with which he was afflicted. He had reWhile prosecuting his ceived this mishap in a curious way. schoolboy studies, being very poorly provided with money, he was obliged to board with people of the humblest grade; and the wife of his landlord, on one occasion when he was, as she thought, improperly talkative, struck him a smart blow on the cheek with a table-spoon. The consequence was, that a swelling arose on the interior, which lasted through life, and materially obstructed the movements of his tongue in articulation. The matter, however, of the painter's converse made Above all others, Napoleon up for all defects of manner. wearied. was his favorite theme, and one of which he never Fond regret mingled with his recollections of the emperor. Nor did David check himself in his discourse on account of Princes, any particular individuals who might be present. nobles, and other august personages, sometimes visited the painter's studio, and however unpalateable the subject might be, were compelled to listen with patience to David's laudatory reminiscences of the emperor.

The Duke of Wellington, generalissimo of the allied armies, and special inspector of the Low Country fortresses, came to Brussels. Being well aware of the presence of David in the city, he formed the resolution of visiting the artist and getting a portrait of himself executed. With this view he entered his carriage, accompanied by several of his officers, and desired the coachman to drive to David's house, "Rue Fosséaux-Loups."

On stopping before the little green gate of the painter, the Duke and his company were at once admitted. They were shown into a dining room, decorated in a more splendid way, in one respect, than the halls of monarchs. Pictures, from the hand of David, covered the walls of the apartment, and in almost all of them Napoleon and his deeds formed the subject. In one place he was seen scaling the Alps, in form and appearance the same as when the ancient sides of these mountains echoed in reality to "young Bonaparte's battle

"Gentlemen," said he, bowing slightly, "to whom have I the honor of speaking?

The chief of the party answered, "I am the Duke of We

At that name, the old painter-for he was now sixty-seve -grew first red and then pale, showing how much moved by the presence of the conqueror of his master and hero. He recovered himself, however, and said, in a coldly civil tone, "In what can I serve you?"

Madame David, who had come to the door of the studia with the visiters, now retired, with some apprehension of a disagreeable scene.

"I was desirous," said the duke, in reply to the artis question, "to see a painter so celebrated; and as you har painted Bonaparte".

"You mean the emperor," said David, interrupting visiter hastily, and reddening with anger.

"Précisely," returned the duke; and I came to beg th you would execute a likeness of myself."

The old painter looked at the duke fixedly for a few mo ments, and then, with additional coldness in his manner, b said, "You know that I paint history only."

I am no pet

Well," returned the duke, with a smile, sonage of romance. You have celebrated with your penci the features of this great man," pointing to a figure of Na "Sir," replied the artist, with a mixture of emotions le poleon, "and I, too, am ambitious to be painted by you." ble on his countenance, "I do not paint the English-Icar not paint the English!

David averted his head as he spoke. Seeing the strengt of the feelings which actuated him, the Duke of Wellingt The Duke was eviden and his party retired in silence.

disappointed, but he was in all likelihood disposed also, a some measure, to respect the emotions of the old painter Napoleon. David could not paint the overthrower of master and friend.

SOUNDS.-The murmuring of waters, the tinkling rill, whispering winds, the sound of the forest in the blast, t rush of the cascade, the roaring of the ocean, and the v of the thunder, are searcely more than the effects of sim sounds. The harmony of the groves, as it is termed, is o also little else. Even the little musical sounds of other a mals produce similar effects; as the union of sounds, so unre lated and so unmusical as the lowing of cattle, the bleati of sheep, the cawing of the rooks, the cooing of the pigeo and even the woodman's axe or the smith's hammer, w sheep-bell, the cuckoo, the evening song of the thrush, a the distant bells of the village, often produce a rural conce which few can feel without emotion, though even a refine musician might be extremely troubled to point out either bu monies or melodies. These are the rural sounds which th poet has celebrated. That their effects have been sought associations, is true; or that they imply pleasing association enhancing their charm, no one will question: but there is musician who cannot distinguish the primary beauty, he also who will feel the effects in the most lively manner.

as it i

THE TOWER OF LONDON.*

A HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

BY W. HARRISON AINSWORTH,

Author of 'Crichton,' 'Jack Sheppard,' and 'Rookwood.'

PART VI.

BOOK THE SECOND....MARY THE QUEEN.

VIII....Of Queen Mary's attachment to Courtenay.

rank; while his frank and conciliating manner, combined with his rare endowments of mind and person, won him universal regard. Doctor Thomas Wilson, in the funeral oration pronounced over Courtenay at Padau in 1556, states, that during his long imprisonment in the Tower, "he wholly devoted himself to study, and that neither the angustia loci, nec solitudo, nec amissio libertatis, illum á literis avocarent; that he made such progress in philosophy, that no nobleman was equal to him in it; that he also explored the mysteria natúræ; that he entered into the mathematicorum labyrintha; that he was so fond of painting, that he could easily and laudably make any one's portrait on a tabula; that he was equally attached to music, and had attained in it absolutam perfec tionem; and that to these acquisitions he added the Spanish,

without pride, pleasant without levity, prudent in speech;
cautious in answering, modest in disputing, never boasting of
himself nor excluding others, and, though familiar with many,
Allowing for the drawbacks
yet intimately known to few."
which must necessarily be made from such an éloge, enough
will remain to prove that his accomplishments were of no

common order.

On the onset of his career, however, Courtenay was assailed by temptations which it required more experience of the world to resist. Strictly confined, from his earliest youth, it may be conceived that when first exposed to female fascinaHitherto, he had only tion, his heart was speedily melted. read of beauty. He now felt its full force, and placed no honor excited within his breast. It was upon this point of his character that Renard justly grounded his hopes of alienating the Queen's affections. Encouraging his new-born licentiousness, he took care that none of his gallantries should fail to reach the ears of his royal mistress.

bounds to the admiration which the charms of the dames of

Mary still continued to hold her court within the Tower.-French, and Italian languages. In manners he was grave Various reasons were assigned for this choice of residence; but her real motive was that her plans for the restoration of the Catholic religion could be more securely concerted within the walls of the fortress than elsewhere. Simon Renard, who had become her confidential adviser, and through whom she carried on an active correspondence with her cousin, the Emperor Charles the Fifth, could here visit her unobserved.Here, also, she secretly received the envoy of Pope Julius the Third, Francisco Commendone (afterward the celebrated Cardinal of that name,) and detained him until after the Duke of Northumberland's execution, that he might convey intelligence of the event, and of the effect produced by it upon the populace, to the Pontiff. To Commendone she gave the strongest assurances of her attachment to the Church of Rome, and of her fixed determination to restore its worship. But at the same time she declared that the change must be gradual, and that any undue precipitation would be fatal. In this opinion both Gardiner and Renard, who were admitted to the conference, occurred. And satisfied with their representations, the envoy departed, overjoyed at the success of his mission. Other and gentler thoughts, however, than those connected with her government, occupied the bosom of the Queen. We have already spoken of the impression produced upon her at their first interview on the Tower-Green, by the striking figure and noble features of Edward Courtenay, whom she on that occasion created Earl of Devonshire, and of the speculations it gave rise to among the by-standers. The interest she then felt had been subsequently strengthened. And it appeared certain to all who had any means of observation, that if she selected a husband, her choice would fall upon Courtenay. The progress of her attachment was jealously watched by Renard, who, having other designs in view, secretly opposed it. But aware that Mary, like many of her sex, was possessed of a spirit, which would be apt, if thwarted, to run into the opposite extreme, he was obliged to proceed with the utmost caution. He had, moreover, a strong party against him. From the moment it became evident that the Queen re

garded the Earl of Devonshire with the eyes of affection, all were eager to pay court to him. Among his warmest supporters were Gardiner and De Noailles; the latter being mainly influenced in his conduct by distrust of the Court of Spain. Renard, therefore, stood alone. But though every thing appeared against him, he did not despair of success. Placing reliance upon Mary's jealous and suspicious character, he felt certain of accomplishing his purpose. Accordingly, he affect ed to approve her choice; and with the view of carrying out his scheme more effectually, took care to ingratiate himself

with Courtenay.

Inexperienced as the latter was in the arts of a court, being then only twenty-one, and having passed fourteen years of his life in close captivity in the Tower, he was easily duped by the wily embassador; and though repeatedly warned against him by De Noailles, who saw through Renard's design, he disregarded the caution. Satisfied of the Queen's favorable disposition toward him, which was evinced by the most marked attention on her part, this young nobleman conceived himself wholly beyond the reach of rivalry; and trusting to his personal advantages, and the hold he had obtained over the affections of his royal mistress, he gave himself little concern about an opposition which he regarded as futile. He looked upon himself as certain of the Queen's hand; and, but for his own imprudence, he would have been actually possessed of it. Mary's meditated alliance was agreeable to all parties, except, as just intimated, that of Spain. Already nearly related to the crown by his descent from Edward the Fourth, no objection could be raised against her favorite on the score of

• Continued from page 417.

Though of a staid and severe character, Mary was not indisposed to make allowances for one so utterly inexperienced as Courtenay; and her first direction to Renard was to check him. So far from doing this, the artful embassador incited him to further irregularities, and contrived to place new obJects in his way. In vain De Noailles remonstrated, entreating him at least to be more guarded in his conduct. In vain Gardiner sternly rebuked him. He turned a deaf ear alike to remonstrance and reproof; and, hurried on by the unbridled impetuosity of youth, passed from one excess to another. Renard witnessed his conduct with secret satisfaction; but he was not prepared for the calmness with which the Queen viewed it. She was greatly displeased, yet as her lover still seemed passionately devoted to her, she looked upon his conduct as resulting from the circumstances of his previous life, and, trusting he would soon open his eyes to its folly, was content to pardon it.

Renard then saw that he must have recourse to stronger measures. As Mary's jealousy was not to be easily aroused, he resolved to bring a more formidable rival into the field. There was one ready made to his hand. It was the princess Elizabeth. On no one point was the Queen's vanity more easily touched than by any reference to the superior charms of her sister. Any compliment paid the latter she construed into a slight to herself; and she watched with an uneasy glance the effect produced by her in public. So sensible was Elizabeth of the Queen's foible, that she kept in the background as much as possible. Unaware of the mortification he inflicted upon his royal mistress, and of the injury he did himself, Courtenay often praised the Princess's beauty in terms so rapturous as to call a blush into her cheek, while the blood was driven from that of Mary. So undisguised was his admiration, that the Queen resolved to remove the object of it from her court, and would have done so, but for the artful management of Renard, who felt that such a step would ruin his plans. Long before Courtenay had noticed it, the subtle embassador, well skilled in woman's feelings, ascertained the state of Elizabeth's heart, and saw that she was not proof against the captivating manners and personal graces of the handsome young nobleman. It was not difficult for one possessed of so many opportunities as himself to heighten this feeling into a passion; and before long he had the satisfaction to find that the princess was deeply enamored of her sister's suitor. Nor was Courtenay less easily enthralled. Apprised of his conquest by Renard, instead of resisting it, he at once Again De Noailles, who surrendered himself to the snare. saw his dangerous position, came to his aid. Again Gardiner rebuked him more severely than before. He derided their remonstrances; and, heedless of the changing manner of the