of composition, he went over and over them in his later years, changing them here and there, but seldom for the better. What seemed asperities were smoothed away, but for the most part the original ruggedness is poorly exchanged for the more blameless, but tamer, afterthought. It would be an interesting, and for those who make a study of these things, might be a profitable task, to bring together, by comparing one edition with another, the successive changes which many well-known lines were in this way Careful as he had always been in the work | calling, and watched the setting sun. It was a cold, bright evening, and he got a chill, which resulted in pleurisy. He survived the attack, but sank from after weakness. On the 7th of April, his eightieth birthday, he was prayed for in Rydal chapel, morning and evening. On Saturday, the 20th, when asked by his son whether he would receive the communion, he replied, "That is just what I want." When his wife wished to let him know that there was no hope of recovery, she said to him," William, you are going to Dora?" He made no answer at the time, but next day, as one of his nieces drew aside his curtain, he awoke from a quiet sleep, and said, "Is that Dora?" He breathed his last, almost imperceptibly, on Tuesday, the 23d, at noon, the same day as that on which Shakspeare was born and died. made to endure. During those silent years, the aged poet might be seen in green old age (and who that has seen that venerable figure will for get it?), either as he moved about the roads in the neighbourhood of Rydal Mount, or drove towards Grasmere or Ambleside in his small, rustic-looking carriage, or as he ap peared on Sundays, in the family pew near the pulpit, in the small church of Rydal. There, Sunday by Sunday, he was seated, his head inclining forwards, and the long silver white hair like a crown of glory on either side of the noble breadth of brow. The household at Rydal Mount was darkened by a great grief towards the close of 1847-the death of the poet's daughter Dora, Mrs. Quillinan. "Our sorrow, I feel, is for life," he wrote, "but God's will be done!" And it was for life. At the age of seventy-seven such a loss was not to be got over. Still with firm step, though saddened heart, he might be seen going about. As late as the autumn of 1849, as a stranger came down the road from the back of Rydal Mount, he met Wordsworth walking slowly back towards his house from the highway, to which he had just conducted some visitor. His head leant to one side, somewhat as he does in his picture, and in his hand he carried a branch with withered leaves. He who passed him happened to have on a plaid, wrapt around him in Scottish shepherd's fashion. This attracted his notice, and as the stranger looked round, thinking it might be the last sight of him, the poet had turned round and was looking back too. There was one long look, but no word, and both passed on. "Matthew is in his grave, yet now, In the March of next year, he was still able to walk to Grasmere and to Ambleside, the last two walks he took. The last day he was out of doors, he sat down on the stone seat of a cottage-porch, where he had been A few days after, he was laid in that corner of Grasmere churchyard where his children had been laid before him, and to which his wife and sister have since been gathered. A plain stone, with no other word on it than "William Wordsworth," marks the spot. On one side of it are the yew-trees planted there long before by his desire (are we wrong in thinking by his own hand?). On the other, the Rotha, through a calm, clear pool, creeps quietly by. Fairfield, Helm-crag, and SilverHow look down upon his grave. Westminster contains no resting-place so fit for him. And now, looking back on those fourscore years, it may be said that if any life in modern times has been well-rounded and com- . plete, Wordsworth's has. From first to last it was one noble purpose, faithfully kept, thoroughly fulfilled. The world has rarely seen so strong and capacious a soul devote itself to one, and that a lofty end, with such singleness and concentration of aim. No doubt there was a great original mind to begin with, one that saw more things, and deeper, than any other poet of his time. But what would this have achieved, had it not been backed by that moral strength, that ironness of resolve? It was this that enabled him to turn aside from professions that he was little suited for, and with something less than a hundred a year to face the future. In time, doubtless, other helps were added, and long before the end he was possessed of competent means. But this is only another instance of the maxim," Providence helps them who help themselves." That life at Townend had encountered and overcome the difficulty before the help came. Again, the same moral fortitude appears in the firmness with which he kept his purpose, and the industry with which he wrought it out. Undiscouraged by neglect, undeterred by obloquy and ridicule, in the face of obstacles that would have daunted almost any other man, he kept on his way unmoved, and wrought out the gift that was in him till the work was complete. Few poets have ever so fully uttered the thing that was given them to speak. And the result has been that he has bequeathed to the world a body of high thought and noble feeling which will continue to make all who apprehend it think more deeply and feel more wisely to the end of time. The question has often been asked how far Wordsworth was a religious poet; that he was a religious man no one doubts. In his earlier poems, especially, as in "Tintern Abbey," and others, men have pointed to passages and said, These are Pantheistic in their tendency. The supposition that Words. worth ever maintained a Pantheistic philosophy, ever held a deliberate theory of the Divine Being as impersonal, is contradicted both by many an express declaration of his own, and by what is known of his life. The truth seems to be that, during that period of his life when his feelings about nature were most vivid, and most imaginatively expressed in verse, he felt the presence in all nature of a vast life, a moving spirit, which he did not, at least in his verse, identify with the living personal God of whom conscience and the Bible witness. His earlier poetry generally stops short of such distinct personality. But whether he so stopped short because nature does not in itself, and from its unaided resources, suggest more, or whether he stopped short because he was merely describing his own experience, and that experience was defective, this we do not venture to determine. If defect there is, who is he that has a right to blame him? Only he who, having felt as broadly and profoundly the vast life that is in nature, has bridged over the gulf between this and the higher religious truth, and taught men so to do. To this man, and to none other, shall be conceded the right of finding fault with what Wordsworth has done. Wordsworth's treatment of human nature, the same question meets us in another form. In the "Prelude," and other poems of the first epoch, it cannot be denied that the selfrestorative power of the soul seems asserted, and the sufficingness of nature to console the wounded spirit is implied, in a way which Wordsworth, if distinctly questioned, would, perhaps at any time, certainly in his later years, have been the first to disavow. That he was himself conscious of this defect may be gathered from the change he made in the reflections with which the story of Margaret, in the "Excursion," closes. This story was written among the last years of last century, at Racedown or Alfoxden. Through all the early editions of his poems it stood thus In "The old man, noting this, resumed, and said, 'My friend! enough to sorrow you have given, The purposes of wisdom ask no more; Be wise and cheerful, and no longer read The forms of things with an unworthy eye." In the one-volume edition of his works, which appeared somewhere about the year 1845, we, for the first time, read the following addition, inserted after the third line of the above "Nor more would she have craved as due to One Who, in her worst distress, had ofttimes felt The unbounded might of prayer; and learned, with soul Fixed on the Cross, that consolation springs, The forms of things with an unworthy eye?" A little farther on the "Wanderer" proceeds ruined cottage conveyed to his heartto say that once as he passed that way the "So still an image of tranquillity, So calm and still, and looked so beautiful Amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind, That what we feel of sorrow and despair From ruin and from change, and all the grief The passing shows of Being leave behind, Appeared an idle dream that could not live Where meditation was." Instead of the last line and a half, the later editions have the following: "Appeared an idle dream, that could maintain, To say that as years increased Wordsworth's faith in the vital Christian truths grew more confirmed and deep, that in himself were fulfilled his own words "Peace settles where the intellect is meek, The faith Heaven strengthens where He moulds the creed," is only to say that he was growingly a good man. This growth many a line of his later poems, besides incidental notices in his letters, and other memoranda of his nephew's biography, clearly exhibit. No doubt the wish will at times arise, that the unequalled power of spiritualizing nature, and of originating tender and solemn views of human life, had, for the sake of other men, been oftener and more unreservedly turned on the great truths of Christian faith. At the same time, when such a regret does arise, it is but fair that it should be tempered by remembering, as he hiniself urges, that "his works, as well as heights, and sit under the shadow of his profound meditations, and, in proportion as they drink in his spirit, will become purer and nobler men. ART. II.-Défense de Sébastopol. Ouvrage Rédigé sous la Direction du LieutenantGénéral Todleben, Aide-de-Camp Général de S. M. l'Empereur. Tome I., Première Partie. Tome II., Seconde Partie. Quarto, pp. 720. Saint Pétersbourg: Imprimerie N. Phieblin et Cie., 1863. those of other poets, should not be considered as developing all the influences which his own heart recognised, but rather those which he felt able as an artist to display to advantage." At another time he assured a correspondent that he had been averse to frequent mention of the mysteries of Christian faith, not because he did not duly feel them, but because he felt them too deeply to venture on too free handling of them. Above all, if he has not, any more than the greatest of former poets, done all that our hearts desire, let us not on that account fail to appreciate the good work he has done. What that work is cannot be better described than in the words in which the greatest purely religious poet of the age, dedicated to Words Ir is an old maxim, that occasions make worth his Oxford lectures on poetry: "Ut men, yet it is an indisputable fact that the animos, ad sanctiora erigeret," to "raise Crimean War produced only one man of men's minds to holier thoughts" both of na- genius, founded only one high and durable ture and of man. This is the tendency of reputation, and added only one invention or every line he wrote. Taking the commonest discovery of magnitude to our pre-existing sights of earth, and the lowliest facts of life, to knowledge of the art of war. Many soldiers elevate and ennoble these, to find pathways and sailors of all ranks did their devoir by which the mind may naturally pass up- bravely; many individual acts of heroism ward, to an ampler ether, a diviner air, this might be singled out for unqualified praise. is his peculiar function. If he seldom ven- There was no lack of zeal, courage, or detures within the inner sanctuary, he every- votedness in either of the armies engaged, where leads to its onter court, lifts our nor in their chiefs; but (blunders apart) they thoughts into a region "neighbouring to hea- proceeded regularly and systematically, withven, and that no foreign land." If he was out one original conception, without one flash not universal in the sense in which Shakspeare of light; whilst Todleben, with his combina was, and Goethe aimed to be, it was because tions of earthworks, changed the entire face he was smitten with too deep an enthusiasm of things at the very crisis of the enterprise. for those truths by which he was possessed. And this he did, after a calm survey and His eye was too intense, too prophetic, to careful calculation of the respective means admit of his looking at life dramatically. In and resources of the assailants and the assailfact, no poet of modern times has had in him ed. It is both fitting and fortunate, thereso much of the prophet. In the world of fore, that he should be selected by the Rus nature, to be a revealer of things hidden, an sians to write or edit their version of the interpreter of new and unsuspected relations, events which the cultivated world have hitherthe opener of a new sense in men; in the to been obliged to learn almost exclusively moral world, the teacher of truths hitherto from French and English histories; histories neglected or unobserved, the awakener of the differing so essentially, that a mediator of consciousness to the solemnities that encom-authority will be gladly welcomed by readers pass life, deepening our reverence for the of all countries who are not utterly indifferessential soul, apart from accident and cir- ent about the truth.* cumstance, making men feel more truly, more tenderly, more profoundly, lifting the thoughts upward through the shows of time to that which is permanent and eternal,—this is the office which he will not cease to fulfil, as long as the English language lasts. What earth's far-off lonely mountains do for the plains and cities, that Wordsworth has done. and will do for literature, and through literature for society; sending down great rivers of higher truth, fresh purifying winds of feeling, to those who least dream from what quarter they come. The more thoughtful of each generation will draw nearer and observe him more closely, will ascend his imaginative *"Francis Todleben, whose name was to be made illustrious by the siege of Sebastopol, was at the commencement of his military career when the Eastern war broke out. It is to this war, and the inexhaustible genius he displayed in his obstinate defence of Sebastopol, that he owes the ele vated rank he now holds. Son of a merchant of Mittau, Todleben was pleted his studies in the schools of Riga, he was born on the 25th May, 1818. After having comadmitted into the College of Engineers at St. Petersburgh. At the beginning of the war, he was only second captain of engineers: he distinguished himself under the orders of General Childers, and was then sent to the Crimea. In less than a year he passed successively through the grades of captain, commandant, lieut.-colonel, Questions of conflicting evidence exercise perial treasury. It is therefore, to all intents and purposes, an official publication, as was M. de Bazancourt's; and this we conceive to be a most material deduction from its authority. Giving General Todleben full credit for independence of spirit, love of truth, and the best intentions, he is still the organ of an autocrat; he is writing (so to speak) in the fetters of authority; he is safe from domestic criticism; and unless his narrative had been approved by his imperial employer, it would have been suppressed. There have arisen obvious causes whilst the work was in progress for giving it a tone not disagreeable to the French; and national vanity might cooperate with policy to confirm the claims to superior prowess put forth by or on behalf of our allies. If, at Alma or Inkermann, they took an equal share with the British in the fight, so much the more glory would accrue to the vanquished, whom (it would thus be made to appear) nothing less than a series of combined efforts by the opposing armies could bear back. We never yet met with a French account of Waterloo in which the Prussians did not figure as the real victors; and if we are to put faith in M. Thiers, the Spaniards in the Peninsular War very far exceeded instead of lamentably falling short of the effective co-operation vowed and promised by their successive commanders in their name. a kind of fascination on the mind, inspiring a lively interest quite independently of their inherent importance; and as the controversies raised by M. Bazancourt and Mr. Kinglake largely affect both national rivalries and personal character, it would be passing strange if either Frenchmen and Englishmen, so recently engaged in animated competition, had suddenly become cold to the resulting glory or shame. Was the battle of the Alma decided by the British advance against the Russian right and centre, or by the turning movement of the French? Was it the British or the French commander who shrank from carrying out the expedition as a coup de main? Which of them hesitated to attack the Northern Forts on the land side? Who suggested or urged the flank march? Who declined the proposal for an assault when the formidable Malakoff | was an easily accessible and half-fortified tower? Who bore the brunt of those terrible morning hours at Inkermann? And who, all things considered, contributed most to the final triumph of the Allies? We are not going to reopen or reargue any of these questions, although we may inadvertently throw light upon them as we proceed. We propose to place ourselves as nearly as we can in the position of the Russians, and describe the main features of the siege from their point of view; a course of proceeding which we are led to adopt, as well by the preexisting lack of information from Russian sources, as by the form and character of the book under review. The promised English version seems to be indefinitely postponed; and the circulation of the French edition now before us (price, when completed, from 14 to 16 guineas) will certainly be confined to a small and select class.* It will be remembered that all public documents bearing on the subject have been placed at the disposal of the editor; that he has been allowed to select his assistants from the army list; and that the whole expenses of the work are defrayed from the im adjutant-colonel, marshal de camp, and adjutantgeneral, and received from his sovereign the highest marks of esteem and consideration."Bazancourt, vol. ii. p. 8. He is uniformly named Lieutenant-Colonel in his book. * The maps and plans (eighteen in number) are on the largest and most expensive scale, but they are neither so manageable nor so clear as those prepared by the Topographical Depot to accompany the English Journal of Engineers' Operations before Sebastopol. There is a corresponding French work entitled Journal des Opérations du Génie, publié avec l'Autorisation du Ministre de la Guerre. Par Le Général Niel. Avec un atlas in folio de 15 planches. Paris: Libraire Militaire. 1858, These few words of warning will not be found superfluous when we come to the disputed battles or events; and even the preliminary chapters setting forth the designs, resources, and preparations of Russia should be perused with caution; although there is little fear of her succeeding in passing herself off as the most inoffensive and least grasping of the Great Powers. General Todleben, however, insists that she played the part of lamb to our wolf throughout, and says distinctly that "not to agree at the present time on this fact, that the two antagonistic Powers, France and England, ardently desired war,-would be to defy evidence." What has been mistaken for ambition in Russia, is simply a double impulse arising from her geographical situation. "With boundaries touching Europe on one side and Asia on the other, she finds herself the natural intermediary between the east and the west. Thence for her the necessity. of the double end towards which her policy must be directed. She must pursue the development of her interest in the East by means of European civilisation, and seek to consolidate the foundations of the political importance that she has acquired in the great As head of the family of European states." Greek Christians, the Czar could not help interfering to protect his co-religionists, and thus afforded a pretext for the quarrel for which Napoleon the Third was eagerly on the look-out; whilst the ever-wakeful jealousy of England was aroused by finding the constantly extending frontier of Russia, though still a few thousand miles off, and separated by a kingdom or two, approaching nearer and nearer the heart of her oriental empire. Her lurking hostility was first exhibited by what is described as the first manifestation of the progress of English influence in Turkey-the formal refusal of the Ottoman Porte to deliver up to Austria and Russia the Hungarian and Polish insurgents who had taken refuge in the states of the Sultan. Then followed the quarrel of the Greek and Latin Churches, in which the dictatorial voice of the "Great Eltchee" was raised on the side of the French. The extraordinary mission of Prince Menschikow was a wellintentioned move in a conciliatory direction; he demanded nothing more than the strict observance of treaty rights; and his abrupt departure, as well as his peremptory demeanour, have been most unfairly represented as derogatory to the independence and dignity of the Porte. The crossing of the Pruth, and the occupation of the Principalities, were equitable and moderate steps towards a reasonable object; and if Austria and Prussia had not played false, that object would have been attained without further complica tion. Energetic measures on their part would have prevented the war; but, fatally carried along by the current of public opinion, they held aloof, and at the last moment Austria passed from neutrality to threats. Such, in substance, is General Todleben's explanation of the immediate causes of the war. His sketch of the military and naval events which preceded the invasion of the Crimea, is not less opposed to the popular impression of England and France. Thus, he says that it is altogether a mistake to suppose that the Turks single-handed gained any advantages over the Russians in any quarter; and as for Silistria, that the siege was raised solely because Marshal Prince Paskievitch's lines of communication were commanded by the Austrians, whose intentions were unknown. He says: "A great deal has been written about Silistria in special compilations; and in these recitals there is frequent mention of the rare energy of the defence, of assaults repulsed, of audacious sorties of the Turkish garrison, who are said to have got possession of our trenches, of the skil ful disposition of countermines, etc., etc. All this is inexact to such a point that it is impossible to recognise in these recitals the facts which really occurred under the ramparts of Silistria in 1854.", He goes on to deny in detail the alleged mining and counter-mining; to describe the Arab Tabia as a formidable fort; to scout the notion of a regular siege; to represent the sorties of the garrison (which he limits to two) as unsuccessful, although he admits that one cost the Russians 700 men; and to assert that the besiegers never sustained a repulse, although they lost 2500 men before the place. "The Marshal quitted the army on the 12th Jane (old style). By the order of Prince Gortschakow, measures were taken for the assault of the advanced forts. They were in such a situation as to make it impossible for them to oppose a powerful resistauce. But in the night of the 20th to the 21st June, and when the troops, already at their posts, waited but the signal-gun to rush to the assault, there arrived unexpectedly raise the siege, and retire to the left bank of the a courier from the Marshal, bearing the order to Danube." So that, if we accept this Russian version, the memorable exploit of Mr. Kinglake's three "English lads," Nasmyth, Butler, and Bal lard (although confirmed by the printed journals of two of them in the Times) must henceforth be considered little better than a myth. We know few more striking examples of the extent to which human credulity may be stretched than the theories with which Mr. Urquhart managed to inoculate his disciples touching the irresistible strength of Russia, her project of universal empire, and the complicity of British statesmen in her views. There are persons who believe still that Lord Palmerston was amongst her emissaries, and that he brought about the Crimean War in the hope of aiding her in some inscrutable way. Calm, calculating politicians were not wanting to contend that the only real danger to the balance of power was to be apprehended from the giant of the north; and these derived small comfort from the reflection that the first aggressive movement on a large scale would dispel the delusion-that the feet of the giant were of clay. It is curious, therefore, to learn, on official authority, what was the actual available strength of the Muscovite empire in 1854, and whether its condition indicated either the capacity or the wish to overrun or overawe Western Europe. The proposition laid down and partially established in the first chapter of this work is, that at the very time when the Emperor Nicholas was accused of extending his hand to grasp, by anticipation, the inheritance of the "sick man," he had made no preparations on his frontiers either for attack or defence; and these frontiers, vast but vulnerable, were each, it is contended, of such a nature as to |