THE VOLCANOES OF HAWAII.

KILAUEA AND THE SULPHUR BANK.

It is about one hundred and fifty yards in length by about forty wide, and is separated from the perpendicular basaltic rocks that bound the plain, by a chasm from which steam issues in quantities. By descending into it as far as the heat would admit, we obtained some beautiful crystallized masses of sulphur, which we found in small cavities. In some parts of the chasm, the temperature was at the boiling point. The bank seemed to be formed by the decomposition of the rock, through the agency of heat and water. Without the chasm, the bank was formed of an unctuous, red and blue clay, or rather marl, so nearly allied to a pigment, that I understood it had been used as a wash or paint by the Missionaries. The steam from below seemed to be penetrating and saturating the whole bank. At about three o'clock, when I had reached the eastern edge of Lua Pele, all the party who were with me remarked a large column of smoke rising from that crater, and we, in consequence, ran towards the bank; but the sulphurbanks concealed the bottom of the crater and black ledge from our view. It immediately occurred to me that an outbreak had taken place, by which the whole bottom of the lower crater had been overflowed, and that my friend Dr. Judd would find himself in a dangerous position, as he must at the time be near it. Not being able to reach any place where we could relieve our apprehensions, we were forced to continue our route. . . . When we ascended the bank, it became evident that the eruption had taken place at the small crater: this gave rise to much uneasiness respecting the party that had gone down. I searched with my glass in every part of the crater, but saw no one, although I was convinced that they could not have proceeded up before us. When I returned to the encampment, Dr. Judd was not to be found there, and nothing had been heard of him. I therefore felt great relief, when in about a quarter of an hour I saw the party returning. On greeting Dr. Judd, I received from him the following account. After he left me, he proceeded with the natives down the ravine into the crater; thence along the black ledge to its western part, where he descended by the same toilsome path that had been followed a month before. After reaching the bottom, he found a convenient steam-hole, whence a strong sulphureous gas issued; and he then arranged the apparatus for collecting it. This was found to answer the purpose, and was readily and completely absorbed by water. The gas was then collected in a phial containing red-cabbage water turned blue by lime, when it became intensely red. Dr. Judd then sought for a place where he might dip up some of the recent and yet fluid lava, but found none sufficiently liquid for the purpose. Failing here, he proceeded towards the great fiery lake at the southern extremity of the crater. He found that the ascent towards this was rapid, because the successive flowings of the lava had formed crusts, which lapped over each other. This rock was so dark in colour, as to be almost black, and so hot as to act upon spittle just as iron, heated nearly to redness, would have done. On breaking through the outer crust, which was two or three inches thick, the mass beneath, although solid, was of a cherry-red. The pole with which the crust was pierced, took fire as it was withdrawn. It was evidently impossible to approach any nearer in this direction; for although the heat might not be so intense as to prevent walking on the crust, yet the crust itself

might be too weak to bear the weight, and to break through would have been to meet death of the most appalling kind. Dr. Judd therefore turned towards the west bank, on which he mounted to a higher level over stones too hot to be touched, but from which his feet were defended by stout woollen stockings, and sandals of hide worn over his shoes. When he had proceeded as far as he could in this direction, he saw at the distance of about thirty feet from him a stream of lava running down the declivity over which he and his companions had ascended.

On the sides of this crater Dr. Judd saw some fine specimens of capillary glass, "Pele's hair," which he was anxious to obtain for our collection. He, therefore, by the aid of the hand of one of the natives, descended, and began to select specimens. When fairly down, he was in danger of falling, in consequence of the narrowness of the footing; but in spite of this difficulty, his anxiety to select the best specimens enticed him onwards. While thus advancing, he saw and heard a slight movement in the lava about fifty feet from him, which was twice repeated, and curiosity led him to turn to approach the place where the motion occurred. In an instant the crust was broken asunder by a terrific heave, and a jet of molten lava, full fifteen feet in diameter, rose to the height of about forty-five feet, with a most appalling noise. He instantly turned for the purpose of escaping, but found that he was now under a projecting ledge, which opposed his ascent, and that the place where he had descended was some feet distant. The heat was already too great to permit him to turn his face towards it, and was every moment increasing; while the violence of the throes which shook the rock beneath his feet augmented. Although he considered his life as lost, he did not omit the means for preserving it; but offering a mental prayer for the divine aid, he strove, although in vain, to scale the projecting rock. While thus engaged, he called in English upon his native attendants for help, and, looking upwards, saw the friendly hand of Kalumo—who on this fearful occasion had not abandoned his spiritual guide and friend— extended towards him. Ere he could grasp it, the fiery jet again rose above their heads, and Kalumo shrunk back, scorched and terrified, until excited by a second appeal, he again stretched forth his hand, and seizing Dr. Judd's with a giant's grasp, their joint efforts placed him on the ledge. Another moment and all aid would have been unavailing to save Dr. Judd from perishing in the fiery deluge. In looking for the natives, they were seen some hundreds of yards distant, running as fast as their legs could carry them. On his calling to them, however, they returned, and brought the frying-pan and pole. By this time, about ten or fifteen minutes had elapsed; the crater was full of lava, running over at the lower or northern side, when Dr. Judd was enabled to dip up a pan of it: it was, however, too cold to take an impression, and had a crust on its top. On a second trial he was successful, and while it was red-hot, he endeavoured to stamp it with a navy button, but the whole sunk by its own weight, being composed of a frothy. lava, and became suddenly cold, leaving only the mark of the general shape of the button, without any distinct impression. The cake he thus obtained (for it resembled precisely a charred pound-cake) was added to our collection, and is now in the hall where they are deposited. designated as Judd's Lake, and believe that few will dispute his being entitled to the honour of having it called after him. Dr. Judd now found that he had no time to lose, for the lava was flowing so rapidly to the north, that their retreat might be cut off, and the whole party destroyed. They therefore at once took leave of the spot, and only effected their escape by

This lake I have

running. When the danger was past, Dr. Judd began to feel some smarting at his wrists and elbows, and perceived that his shirt was a little scorched. By the time he reached the tents, and we had examined him, he was found to be severely burnt on each wrist, on spots the size of a dollar, and also on his elbows, and wherever his shirt had touched his skin. Kalumo's whole face was one blister, particularly that side which had been most exposed to the fire. The crater had been previously measured by Dr. Judd, and was found to be thirty-eight feet deep by two hundred feet in diameter. The rapidity of its filling (in twelve minutes) will give some idea of the quantity of the fluid mass.- -United States Exploring Expedition.

ON ROMANTICISM, AND ON THE PRESENT STATE OF
FRENCH LITERATURE.

BY GUSTAVE MASSON, B.A., UNIVERS. GALLIC.

PART III.

(To the Editor of the Wesleyan-Methodist Magazine.)

THE Génie du Christianisme has been, for poets and artists, a sort of mine out of which those, even, who were considered the richest in natural acquisitions, did not scruple to help themselves to a gem or two. M. de Châteaubriand set the example of applying what is called couleur locale to the scenes which imagination borrows from history, that is to say, of studying carefully and representing faithfully the customs, dress, and externals, generally speaking, of each age and country. He called the attention of his contemporaries to the real sources of romanticism, and of classical poetry,― the middle ages and Grecian antiquity. He excited a rational taste for historical researches, whilst he made it plain that our prejudices and partyspirit too often prevent us from enjoying literature itself: not that M. de Chateaubriand is always writing under the mere impression of a love of truth; his sketches of the middle-ages are sometimes quite fanciful, and his fondness for the reminiscences of past days was a poetical enthusiasm rather than an argumentative opinion; but he stimulated dormant curiosity, induced many to study the origins of their country, and he may be considered as the founder of that splendid school of historical writers which boasts of MM. Guizot, Thierry, de Barante, and Michelet.

The Génie du Christianisme, besides, has changed the French language. It is quite wonderful to notice the number of new words and expressions which this master-piece of composition has introduced into the dictionnaire de l'Académie. Some of these neologisms astonished at first, and took the reading public a little by surprise; but they soon got reconciled to the beauties which had dazzled them; and our literature is, at this present day, sparkling with the epithets, metaphors, and periods of M. de Châteaubriand's own coining. The sobriety of the ancient French language has disappeared for ever; but we still find, in the Génie du Christianisme, its grace, its ease, its noble simplicity. It is the beginning of a new era, an era of vivid and luxuriating imagery, far different from the conciseness of Pascal or the simplicity of Montesquieu. What then? the language of the seventeenth century would be in discordance with our reformed institutions, both social and. political: we must apply to France what the poet said of Phaëton's horses :Expatiantur equi, nulloque inhibente per auras Ignotæ regionis eunt,

M. de Châteaubriand published his Génie du Christianisme in 1801. The year before, Madame de Staël had given to the world two volumes under the following title: "On Literature considered in its Relation to social Institutions." "* Thus, nearly at the same time, from two opposite points of the horizon, rose two standards more closely connected with one another than was thought at first, and round them were soon found gathered together those who had so long felt the necessity of a literary revival. M. de Châteaubriand's fame has rather cast into the shade Madame de Staël's esthetical début; but the impression produced by the work On Literature was strong and universal. It was, in truth, a bold undertaking both from the novelty of the opinions started, and the frequent allusions to passing events; and Madame de Staël expected to meet with a good deal of bitter opposition.

Literature holds the closest and the most essential connexions with the virtue, the liberty, the glory, and the happiness of a state: humanity is ruled by a law of progress and of perfectibility; and it is this law which, from time to time, has elevated the standard of public morality, together with the criterion of literature. The law of perfectibility is indefinite : guaranteed to the future as it was enjoyed by the past, it must follow the development of the social institutions; and its distinctive character in the present day shall be the predominancy of the serious principle over wit, the triumph of the spirit of the north over the literary views of the south.

Such is, in a few words, the argument chosen by Madame de Staël for the subject-matter of her two volumes; and we can pretty well imagine what a stir such a work must have produced in the political as well as the literary world in the year 1800, just after the momentous coup d'état of the eighteenth Brumaire!

Madame de Staël's disquisition is composed of two parts quite distinct, and which ought to be judged each by itself. Her historical readings are not generally very correct, nor her quotations apposite: this, of course, impairs more than once the strength of the best arguments. Madame de Staël may be said to have often guessed uncommonly well; but everything is not a matter of guess, and she has repeatedly called forth errors in support of the truth. Imperfectly acquainted as she was with ancient literature, she must have been expected to stumble against the name of a poet or a philosopher; but the Paris Aristarchi did not forgive her a few gross mistakes in modern lore: they insinuated that she had purposely blundered in order to make good an Utopian system; and when she gave the name of "father of modern poetry" to Ossian, that is, the notorious Macpherson, no wonder that a hue and cry was immediately raised up against her in the public press.

If we consider Madame de Staël's work as a development of the idea of perfectibility, we must confess that it is open to the severest discussion. There is in it much to blame, much to call into question: at the same time, the author's faith and generous impulses are entitled, on our part, to respect and admiration. Nay, if we believe in divine revelation, we also acknowledge the principle of perfectibility, although it is modified and duly corrected by the blessed influence of the Gospel. Madame de Staël is too dogmatical, certainly, and we do not conclude with her that the republican form of government is essential to the progress of social institutions; but what we would sincerely admire in the writer is her fervent hope, her

* De la Littérature, considérée dans ses Rapports avec les Institutions sociales,

thirst for truth, her thorough contempt and hatred for everything that tends to sever us from immortality, and to bind us to the present moment.

In a literary point of view, (and this concerns us especially,) the work is a complete manifesto of what we call romanticism. It is not absolutely necessary, says the author, that we should do better than our forefathers, but we must do otherwise; we must not be imitators; we must be ourselves. Let us, as far as literature goes, open our ears to the inspirations which, after the downfal of the Roman empire, characterized the new society; let us make room for the Christian element and the Germanic principle. Madame de Staël may have had only a glimpse of the literary revolution which she was so strongly advocating; but that glimpse is perfectly correct, and her views have only been explained and carried out by the present generation of French writers. At the time when she wrote, amidst all the anxieties of a revolutionary government, and the din of European warfare, it must have seemed extraordinary to many thinkers that a northern poetry should be considered as the necessary substratum for a new literary construction. Then the idea of turning melancholy into an esthetical principle appeared ridiculous beyond description. Critics laughed at that poetry which mingles its strains with the roaring of the waves, and the moaning of the winds. The wits of the time of the Directoire shrugged up their shoulders when it was told to them that melancholy is the true source of inspiration; that authors ought to be gloomy, and that no real poet is not more or less under the influence of despondency. In fact, Madame de Staël's axioms came in so unexpectedly, that they were rejected altogether as tricks of sophistry; then Chénier, Fontanes, Delille, and many others who enjoyed the reputation of being eminent poets, were far from being given to spleen; and, what was worse than all, Madame de Staël advocated gloom just at the moment when France, escaping from the reign of terror, was already half-intoxicated with glory and pleasure.

Melancholy, nevertheless, is not to be considered as being a novelty in esthetics, even as advocated by the author of the work on Literature. It had sprung up long before; and although it had remained comparatively unnoticed, there it was, by a necessary consequence of the law of Christianity. Wherever the Gospel has not acted upon the whole life of the individual, we find, as it were, a deep and gloomy abyss: the man who, in the bosom of Christianity, is not a Christian, carries about with him a wilderness. For some the prospect is brilliant, for others it is darkness indeed, for all it must be full of solemnity; but wherever the Christian joy reigns not, we are sure to find unutterable sadness. "Whithersoever the soul of man turns itself, unless towards Thee, it is riveted upon sorrows.' (S. August. Confess., lib. iv.)* In this sense, as in many others, Madame de Staël was right, and her work contained the germ of those ideas which we have since seen fully developed.

Without noticing Corinne or Delphine, we shall pass at once to another work of Madame de Staël's, which has had a great influence upon the destinies of French literature. The book on Germany (de l'Allemagne) was written with the evident intention of protesting against a three-fold despotism. Bonaparte had enslaved France; philosophy writhed under the oppression of the materialist school; and literature knew nothing beyond a blind acknowledgment of tradition. Madame de Staël felt how much her

"In this life men, with much toil, seek rest and freedom from care, but through perverse longings they find it not.”—Aug. de Catechiz. rud., sect. xiv.