up. He was never let out into the open air, and no ray of heaven ever visited his eyes. In the subterranean vault which had been thus appropriated for his prison, it was necessary to keep a lamp always burning; and as no clock was to be seen or heard, Ivan knew no difference between day and night. The persons employed to guard him, a captain and lieutenant in the Russian army, were prohibited, under the severest penalties from speaking to him, or answering him the simplest question.

About two years after his confinement in the tower of Schlusselburg, Elizabeth expressed a desire to have a personal interview with the noble youth. Ivan was accordingly conveyed in a covered cart to Petersburg, where, in the house of Peter Shuvaloff, the Empress had a long conversation with him, but without making herself known. He was then about eighteen years of age, of a graceful figure, and commanding deportment. His countenance is represented as having been particularly expressive, and his voice sweet and harmonious. These graces, however, availed him but little. Some of the Historians of her time have talked of the tears she shed on this occasion!

However this may have been, her sympathy was not of long duration. The unfortunate youth was once more led back to his dungeon at Schlusselburg, where he remained until the death of Elizabeth, and the accession of Peter the Third.

The brief reign and sudden death of that unfortunate Emperor, are well known. No longer able to endure the conduct of his consort Catherine, he determined to repudiate her. Accordingly, in the year 1762, he looked around him for a successor to the throne, and at length determined to adopt Ivan, and constitute him his successor. Still further, to promote this view, he resolved to marry the captive to the young princess of Holstein Beck, who was then at Petersburg, and whom he cherished as a daughter. Having arranged his plans, Peter resolved to visit, in as private a manner as possible, the fortress of

Schlusselburg, and have an interview with Ivan, without acquainting him with his rank, attended only by his grand ecuzer, one of his aides de camp, Baron Korff, master of the police at Petersburg, and the Counsellor of State Volkeff. Desirous to remain incognito, he furnished himself with an order signed by his own hand, in which he enjoined the commandant to give the bearers free leave to walk about the whole fortress, without even excepting the place where Ivan was confined, and to leave them to converse with that prince alone.

Taking care to conceal the ensigns of his dignity, Peter entered the cell of Ivan, who, after contemplating him for some time, threw himself all at once at the feet of the Czar. "Czar (said the unhappy youth), you are the master here. I shall not trouble you with a long petition, but let me entreat you to mitigate the severity of my lot. I have been languishing for a number of years in this gloomy dungeon. The only favour I implore is, that I may occasionally be permitted to breathe a purer air." Peter was moved at these words. "Rise, Prince," said he to Ivan, tapping him upon the shoulder," be under no uneasiness for the future, I will employ all the means in my power to render your situation more tolerable. But tell me, have you any remembrance of the misfortunes you have experienced from your earlier youth?" scarcely any idea of those that befel my infancy (rejoined Ivan), but from the moment that I began to feel my misery, the unhappiness of my parents has been my first cause of concern ; and my principal and greatest distress arose out of the treatment they received as we were transported from one place of security to another." The Czar expressed a wish to know who the parties were.

"I have

"The officers who conducted us," said Ivan," who were a!ways the most inhuman of their kind.” "Do you recollect the names of those persons?" said Peter. "Alas!" replied the young Prince, "we were not very curious to learn them. We were content to return thanks to Heaven, on on our bended knees, when these monsters were relieved by one of a more

gentle disposition, one whose generous attentions have given me good cause to remember his name, he was called Korff." It was the very man who was then in the presence of the Emperor, and who seemed much affected by this ingenuous recital. Peter was no less so, and turning to Korff, remarked in a voice choked with emotion, "you see, Baron, that a good action is never lost!"

On leaving Ivan's dungeon, Peter made the circuit of the tower for the purpose of fixing upon a spot to erect a new and more commodious prison for Ivan; after which, he gave orders to that effect. "When the building is finished," remarked the Czar, "I will come myself and put the prince in possession." It seems probable, that this order was given as a blind, to prevent the commandant of Schlusselburg from surmising his real intention. He had no need of a prison who was about to be elevated to a throne.

The Czar's visit to Ivan did not long remain a secret. To avoid giving rise to suspicions which might have proved dangerous to Peter, his uncle, the Prince of Holstein, advised him to remove Ivan into Germany, together with Duke Anthony his father, and the rest of the family. This recommendation was not attended to, but suggested to the Czar the propriety of placing Ivan in the fortress of Kezholm, on the lake of Ladoga; a situation much nearer the Russian metropolis than Schlusselburg. In his way thither the hapless youth had a narrow escape from death. The frequency and suddenness of tempests on this lake, from its peculiar situation, is proverbial. The boat in which the prince was rowed, to get on board the galleot, capsized amid this fathomless abyss of waters, and it was with great difficulty he was saved. Happy would it have been for this glorious youth, had his miseries met with an easy termination beneath the mountainous waves of the stormy Ladoga. But he was reserved for severer trials.

On his arrival at Kezholm, the Czar caused him to be secretly conveyed to Petersburg, where he was put in the

house of a person of consequence, and visited, during the night, once more by Peter, whose plan for the restoration of Ivan to the throne was now ripe, and about to be carried into execution,when another revolution suddenly broke out, which removed Peter from his empire and the world, and exalted Catherine to the throne of Russia.

As a still further security, until Peter should be presented with an opportunity of finally accomplishing his design against the jealousy of Catherine or her adherents, Ivan was kept in great secrecy and retirement during his stay at Petersburg. His presence in that city nevertheless began to be bruited abroad, and a great deal of sympathy was excited for him, when the circumstances coming to the ears of the Empress, she had him taken back to his former prison. Fearing, however, lest he should be recalled and crowned, she lodged him in a monastery at Kalmogor, near Archangel, whence he was a third time carried back to Schlusselburg, where he remained in close confinement until the year 1764, about which time the crisis of his fate approached.

Anxious to preserve popular opinion, Catherine, after the death of her husband, was desirous of removing Ivan; but, until the means offered to effect this with some semblance of expediency, she resolved to prejudice the Russian people against him, and persuade them, if possible, of his total incapacity ever to reign over them. Soon after the commencement of her reign, therefore, she published a manifesto of a conversation supposed to have been held with the captive prince, in which she describes him as utterly deficient both in talents and understanding.— This statement was, however, received with the credulity it deserved. From this period the wrongs of the Prince formed the pivot upon which continual conspiracies against Catherine revolved. His just title to the crown, his long and cruel sufferings, his youth and his innocence, afforded abundant materials for working upon the minds of the populace. The grossest calumnies were circulated, with respect to Ivan. Some described him as an idiot, others as a

drunkard, and not a few as a ferocious savage thirsting for the blood of his fellow-creatures.

Of course the young Prince's opportunities of acquiring intellectual knowledge were very confined. He was taught to read by a German officer who had the custody of him, and this formed the sum total of his attainments. But his mind was of a very superior order, and susceptible of the most refined polish, had the means occurred.

An instrument was soon found to release the Empress Catherine from this clog upon her future prospects.— The regiment of Smolensko was in garrison in the town of Schlusselburg, and a company of about a hundred men guarded the fortress in which Prince Ivan was confined. In this regiment, as second lieutenant, was an officer named Vassily Merovitch, whose grandfather had been implicated in the rebellion of the Cossack Maseppa, and had fought under Charles XII. against Peter the Great. The estates of the family of Merovitch had accordingly been forfeited to the crown. This young man, whose ambition was considerable, preferred with warmth his pretensions to have them restored; and this it was that introduced him to the court. The family estates were not restored; but he was continually flattered with the hopes of their recovery, if he would show himself active in securing the tranquillity of the empire.

The inner guard over the imperial prisoner consisted at this time of two officers, who slept with him in his cell. These persons had a discretionary order by which they were instructed to put Ivan to death, on any insurrection that might be made in his favour, on the presumption that it could not otherwise be quelled.

The entrance to Ivan's prison opened under a sort of low arcade, which, together with it, formed the thickness of the castle wall, within the ramparts; in this arcade or corridor eight soldiers usually kept guard, as well on his account, as because the several vaults on a line with his, contained stores of various kinds for the use of the fortress. The other soldiers were in the guard

house, at the gate of the castle, and at their proper stations. The detachment had for its commander an officer who, himself, was under the orders of the governor.

Some time before the execution of his project, Merovitch had opened himself to a Lieutenant of the regiment of Veliki Luke, named Uschakoff, who bound himself by an oath which he took at the altar of the church of St. Mary of Kuson, in Petersburg, to aid him in the enterprize to the best of his power.

Already had he performed a week's duty at the fortress without venturing an attempt; but tormented by the anxieties arising from suspense, and condemning his own irresolution, he asked permission to be continued on guard a week longer. This step does not seem to have excited any surprize; the request was granted, and Merovitch having admitted to his confidence a man named Jacob Pislikoff, they took the earliest opportunity of tampering with the soldiers who guarded the fortress. But why need we prolong the melancholy tale?

After he had collected about fifty soldiers, who had promised to obey his orders, he marched straight to the door of Ivan's prison, where a desperate struggle took place, during which the unfortunate Ivan was most barbarously murdered within.

Hearing the noise without, and expecting every instant that the prisondoor would have been broken open, the two officers resolved to destroy their prisoner, and accordingly attacked him with the most murderous ferocity.— He defended himself for some time, having his right hand pierced through, and his body covered with wounds; he seized the sword of one of these wretches and broke it, but whilst he was attempting to wrench the piece out of his hands, the other stabbed him in the back and threw him down. He was, before he could rise from the ground, stabbed several times with a bayonet, and thus released from life and captivity together.

It was at this moment that Merovitch entered the prison, and cut to pieces the two ruffians by whom the

young prince had been slain. He was not in time to prevent his death, but he was soon enough to avenge it.

Thus perished a prince who was raised to the Imperial throne without his own knowledge and consent, and

doomed to linger out his existence in a gloomy dungeon; and thus doomed to atone for a few fleeting months of imposed authority, by long years of im prisonment and a cruel death, the crown of his persecution.-Gent. Jan.

SIR,

TEN

London, January 20, 1822. EN days ago I was not aware that such a person existed as the son of the Indian leader Brant,* who is mentioned in my poem " Gertrude of Wyoming." Last week, however, Mr. S. Bannister of Lincoln's Inn, called to inform me of your being in London, and of your having documents in your possession which he believed would change my opinion of your father's memory, and induce me to do it justice. Mr. Bannister distinctly assured me that no declaration of my sentiments on the subject was desired but such as should spontaneously flow from my own judgment of the papers that were to be submitted to me.

I could not be deaf to such an appeal. It was my duty to inspect the justification of a man whose memory I had reprobated, and I felt a satisfaction at the prospect of his character being redressed, which was not likely to have been felt by one who had wilfully wronged it. As far as any intention to wound the feelings of the living was concerned, I really knew not, when I wrote my poem, that the son and daughter of an Indian chief were ever likely to peruse it, or be affected by its contents. And I have observed most persons to whom I have mentioned the circumstance of your

appeal to me, smile with the same surprise which I experienced on first receiving it. With regard to your father's character I took it as I found it in popular history. Among the documents in his favour I own that you have shewn me one which I regret that I never saw before, though I might have seen it, viz. the Duke of Rochefoucault's honourable mention of the chief in his travels. Without meaning, however, in the least to invalidate that nobleman's respectable authority, I must say, that even if I had met with it, it would have still offered only a general and presumptive vindication of your father, and not such a specific one as I now recognize. On the other hand, judge how naturally I adopted accusations against him which had stood in the Annual Register of 1779, as far as I knew, uncontradicted for thirty years. A number of authors had repeated them with a confidence which beguiled at last my suspicion, and I believe that of the public at large. Among those authors were Gordon, Ramsay, Marshall, Belsham, and Weld. The most of them, you may tell me perhaps, wrote with zeal against the American war. Well, but Mr. John Adolphus was never suspected of any such zeal, and yet he has said in his History of England, &c. (vol. iii. p.

110) "that a force of sixteen hundred savages and Americans in disguise, headed by an Indian Col. Butler, and a half Indian of extraordinary ferocity named Brandt, lulling the fears of the inhabitants (of Wyoming) by treachery, suddenly possessed themselves of two forts, and massacred the garrisons." He says farther, "that all were involved in unsparing slaughter, and that even the devices of torment were exhausted." He possessed, if I possessed them, the means of consulting better authorities; yet he has never to my knowledge made any atonement to your father's memory. When your Canadian friends, therefore call me to trial for having defamed the warrior Brant, I beg that Mr. John Adolphus may be also included in the summons. And after his own defence and acquittal, I think he is bound, having been one of my historical misleaders, to stand up as my gratuitous counsel, and say, "Gentlemen, you must acquit my client, for he has only fal·len into an error, which even my judgment could not escape."

In short, I imbibed my conception of your father from accounts of him that were published when I was scarcely out of my cradle.-And if there were any public, direct and specific challenges to those accounts in England ten years ago, I am yet to learn where they existed.

I rose from perusing the papers you submitted to me certainly with an altered impression of his character. I find that the unfavourable accounts of him were erroneous, even on points not immediately connected with his reputation. It turns out for instance, that he was a Mohawk Indian of unmixed parentage. This circumstance, however, ought not to be overlooked in estimating the merits of his attainments. He spoke and wrote our language with force and facility, and had enlarged views of the union and policy of the Indian tribes. A gentleman who had been in America, and from whom I sought information respecting him in consequence of your interesting message, told me that though he could not pretend to appreciate his character en.

tirely, he had been struck by the naivete and eloquence of his conversation. They had talked of music, and Brant said, "I like the harpsicord well, and the organ still better; but I like the drum and trumpet best of all, for they make my heart beat quick." This gentleman also described to me the enthusiasm with which he spoke of written records. Brant projected at that time to have written a History of the Six Nations. The genius of history should be rather partial to such a man.

I find that when he came to England, after the peace of 1783, the most disguished individuals of all parties and professions treated him with the utmost kindness. Among these were the late Bishop of London, the late Duke of Northumberland, and Charles Fox. Lord Rawdon, now Marquess of Hastings, gave him his picture. This circumstance argues recommendations from America founded in personal friendship. In Canada the memorials of his moral character represent it as naturally ingenuous and generous. The evidence afforded induces me to believe that he often strove to mitigate the cruelty of Indian warfare. Lastly, you affirm that he was not within many miles of the spot when the battle which decided the fate of Wyoming took place, and from your offer of reference to living witnesses I cannot but admit the assertion. Had I learnt all this of your father when I was writing my poem, he should not have figured in it as the hero of mischief. I cannot, indeed, answer by anticipation what the writers who have either to retract or defend what they may have said about him, may have to allege; I can only say that my own opinion about him is changed. I am now inclined exceedingly to doubt Mr. Weld's anecdote, and for this reason: Brant was not only trusted, consulted, and distinguished by several eminent British officers in America, but personally beloved by them. Now I could conceive men in power, for defensible reasons of state politics, to have officially trusted and even publicly distinguished at courts or levees an active and sagacious Indian chief, of whose private character they