provinces, and held a council in Teheran. too distinguished a prisoner to be treated like There they recognized by certain signs the the common crowd. Mahmoud Khan, the divinely indicated successor to the spirit and chief of police, had taken her to his own house, power, and therefore to the office, of their and placed her under the kind care of his slain leader. The new Bâb was Mirza-Yahya, wife. Irresistibly charmed, like all who ap a youth of noble family. His mother had died proached her, by her marvellous beauty and at his birth, and he was brought up by a lady her eloquent words, and filled with respect and whose husband was a leading Bâby, named admiration for her noble character, they used Djenâb-Beha, "The precious Excellence." every means in their power to make her capHe was at this time only sixteen, but already tivity as little irksome as possible; wondering possessed of an extraordinary amount of the while at the buoyant cheerfulness that learning, and, to judge by results, not ill-made their efforts almost superfluous. qualified, young as he was, for the difficult The rest of the prisoners, numbering about post he was called to occupy. Immediately forty, were taken out to Niaveran. The two after his election he left the capital, where it first arrested had been questioned with the would have been unsafe for him to stay. He most ingenious refinements of torture, in order went from town to town, exhorting his adher- that they might betray the names of supposed ents to apply themselves closely to the study accomplices; but in vain. Their defence was of religion and to practical duties; and he singular. They declared that they were not prohibited utterly, for the time being, the use responsible to the king and his court; that of carnal weapons; saying that the time for they had no accomplices, but had simply insurrection, if it should ever come, was cer- acted in obedience to the command of their tainly not yet. At length the search for the chiefs, who were not in Persia, but whose youthful leader became so keen that he passed sacred authority justified any act which they beyond the boundaries of Persia, and estab- might command; that, in any case, the man lished himself at Bagdad. Here, besides whose hands were stained with the blood of so being safe from the pursuit of his enemy, .he many martyrs, and above all with that of his had the advantage of being able to see and Sublime Highness the Bâb himself, must have converse with the multitudes of Persian pil- amply merited death; but that they had no grims who annually pass through the city. personal enmity to the king on the contrary, he had shown them kindness, and they were grateful; but they could only obey orders; and, finally, that they could say nothing different though they should be tortured till the Day of Judgment. About a year after the death of the Bâb, the king was spending the summer in his country palace at Niaveran, a lovely village on the lower slopes of the Elburz, a few miles from the capital. One morning, while out on horseback, he was suddenly assailed by three men, who all at once discharged pistols. But the king received only a very slight wound; one of the assailants was at once struck down, and the other two secured and bound. They at once proudly avowed themselves Bâbys. Measures were taken accordingly. The governor of the city was ordered at once to close and watch the gates, and then quietly to arrest all suspected of Bâbism. On this special evening a considerable company were met in the house of a rich and influential citizen. The whole party were arrested; among them several women and children. But after this first evening, though the Bâbys were known to be many, no more arrests were made. The suspected were on their guard, and as their chief had prohibited insurrection, they made no sign. Baffled in this direction, the judges turned hopefully to the other prisoners. Here were women, and even children, from whom torture or the mere fear of it would draw everything. Equally in vain. This strange new religion made fragile women and timid children inflexible as iron. They gloried in their faith; they would die for it with joy; but they had nothing to tell of any but themselves. The situation thus became, in the eyes of the judges, very serious. Here, in their power, were forty mute captives, but who could tell how many shared their faith-and where? In the cities, in the country, in the army, in the very court itself, perhaps. Who could tell where, or how soon, or how universally, a conflagration might break out? Distrust and suspicion were everywhere. Each man in power felt as if walking on a smouldering volcano; each Among the prisoners was the beautiful feared his nearest neighbor and friend. Consolation-of-the-Eyes." On the outbreak In these circumstances it was felt that the of the troubles in the Mazenderân, when her wisest course would be a policy of conciliation. fellow-apostles had shut themselves up in If the dangerous class was so numerous, it Castle Tebersy, she had travelled through would be most unwise to provoke them to many towns, exerting a powerful influence insurrection. The Ministers therefore decided wherever she went. Then she had disappeared from public view, and was supposed to be secretly at work in the capital. She was 66 that no further search should be made, and that though, of course, the prisoners already taken must either recant or die, as many of them as should simply deny the fact of their spicuous among them was Seyd Houssein, the being Babys should be freed at once without disciple who, on the fatal day at Tabreez, had further question. denied and insulted his master. On that day, The experiment was made first with Gour- when he had come to himself, he made his way ret-ûl-Aîn, as it was supposed her example to Teheran. There he sought out the leading would tell powerfully on the rest. Mahmoud Bâbys, related to them the events of the day Khan came cheerfully home from Niaveran and avowed his crime with such bitter, passionone morning, and told her he had good news ate repentance, that they received him back for her. "You are to be sent for to Niaveran," into favor. But pardon had not brought said he. "The question will be put, Gourret-peace; he passionately longed for martyrdom ûl-Ain, are you a Bâby? You will simply to seal his repentance; and now that his desire answer, No. It is a mere formality. Every- was on the point of fulfilment, was not merely body knows you are one; but nothing more calm, like the others, but triumphant. Many will be asked, and you will at once be free." of the sect, with whom Seyd Houssein is held "You do not know the real news for to-morrow," in great reverence, maintain that his treason said the Consolation-of-the-Eyes. "It is far was only in seeming, and an act of obedience better for me than what you say. For to-mor- to the master; that being the Bâb's secretary, row at noon, you yourself, my friend, will and carrying with him important papers, this preside at my burning, and I shall thus have was the only means of having them conveyed the honor of publicly witnessing for God and in safety to his friends. for his Sublime Highness. And now, Mahmoud Khan, mark what I say; and let my death to-morrow be a sign to you that I speak truth. The master whom you serve will not reward you for your zeal. Ere long you will die a cruel death by his order. I entreat you, therefore, before that hour comes, as come it will, to set your mind earnestly to search out and know the truth." It may be said in this case, as in that of the Zendjân martyrs, that under such a government it needed little insight to utter such a prophecy. Be that as it may, the Bâbys and the orthodox alike univer-in body than in spirit, died on the progress. sally relate it and believe in it; and some years later it became fact in the experience of poor Mahmoud Khan. On this day a spectacle was witnessed in Teheran, the memory of which is not likely soon to fade from the minds of the people. A band of women and children, as well as men, their bodies bathed in blood from fresh, gaping wounds, in which were fixed bunches of blazing tow, were dragged with ropes through the streets and squares to the place of execution. Amid the awe-struck silence of the crowd they sang in joyful tones, "Truly we belong to God; we came from God, and are returning to Him." Some of the little ones, less strong The corpses were thrown in the way of the procession, and parents and sisters walked on calmly. Arrived at the appointed place, the And with the young prophetess herself, of offer of life, on condition of abjuration, was course it also befel as she had said. She was once more made and rejected. It might have taken on the following day to Niaveran. In seemed that measures of intimidation were the presence of the king and his counsellors, exhausted; but it occurred to a soldier to try the officers of state, her fellow-prisoners and a something new. "If you do not yield," he promiscuous crowd, the question was put in said to a father, "I will cut the throats of the most respectful and conciliatory manner, your two sons on your own breast." At once and was met by an unqualified and exultant the father sits down on the ground with outavowal of her faith. There was therefore, in stretched arms, and a bright-eyed little lad of the view of her judges, no alternative. Regret- fourteeen, with blood-stained body and halffully the sentence was pronounced, and she charred flesh, but his face glowing with love was led away to death. No lamentations and faith, throws himself on his breast, exclaimwere uttered, no tearful adieus spoken by her ing, "Father, I am the eldest, let me be first!" fellow-prisoners. They heard with calm cheer- What could persecution do with a people like fulness, as matters of course, both the avowal this? At last the butchery was finished; and and the sentence; regarding the fact of either the calm summer night fell on a hideous, her death or their own as of too trifling sig-mangled mass of bodies, to which the dogs nificance to move them. Gourret-ûl-Ain was were gathering in troops; while the heads taken back to Teheran, in the charge of her were hung up in bundles to decay in the sight sorrowful friend, Mahmoud Khan. They of the public. placed her on a pile of straw-matting; they With this summer day in 1852 the public covered the beautiful head with the long-aban- history of Bâbism ends. But our author is doned veil ; as a last act of mercy, they strang-persuaded that the result of that day's events led her then the lifeless body was reduced was a very large, though secret, accession of to ashes, and the ashes scattered to the winds. adherents to the cause. It is only reasonable It is almost superfluous to say that the other and natural that it should be so. The spectaprisoners were equally impracticable. Contors could not but feel that there was some thing in a cause that called forth such joyful faith--such eager devotion; and the impression made by the immovable constancy of the martyrs, by whom death was rather desired than feared, and on whom torture spent itself like waves against the rock, was profound and lasting. Whatever may be the errors and delusions of the system, it has been true in respect to it, as to a purer and more enlightened faith, that the blood of the martyrs was the seed of the Church. and are not without their conceits of thought and expression. This connection of the play with his poems is further enforced by the insertion in it of three sonnets and a faultless song; which, in accordance with Shakespeare's practice in other plays, are inwoven into the action of the piece and, like the golden ornaments of a fair woman, give it a peculiar air of distinction. There is merriment in it also, with choice illustrations of both wit and humor; a laughter often exquisite, ringing, if From that time the Bâbys, in obedience to faintly, yet as genuine laughter still, though the command of their leader, have remained sometimes sinking into mere burlesque, which quiet; not hesitating, when it seemed advisa- has not lasted quite so well. And Shakesble, even to deny their faith; but there is no peare brings a serious effect out of the trifling doubt that the spread of their doctrines has of his characters. A dainty love-making is inmle, and is still making, steady and rapid terchanged with the more cumbrous play; beprogress. They write many books, which are low the many artifices of Biron's amorous secretly circulated and eagerly read; and while speeches we may trace sometimes the “unutconverts are made among all classes, their terable longing;" and the lines, Act V. scene views have taken the deepest hold among the 2, in which Katherine describes the blighting educated and intelligent. Meanwhile, the through love of her younger sister are one of rulers, taught by experience, continue their the most touching things in older literature. policy of toleration. They make no inquiry, Again, how many echoes seem awakened by lest they should hear too much; they are those strange words, actually said in jest!— determinedly blind to indications of indiffer-"The sweet war-man (Hector of Troy) is dead ence to the true faith; for when it is believed and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones that many, even among the moullas, and the of the buried: when he breathed, he was a highest officers of State, and those nearest the person of the king, belong to the dreaded and mysterious community, it is felt to be the wisest and safest course not to know. Dr. Bruce, writing lately from Persia, gives the present number of the Bâbys as 100,000; but while their policy is what has been indicated, how can they be anything like accurately numbered? In finishing the account given by M. de Gobineau, one feels a curiosity as to two or three questions. Does Mirza Yahya, the foster-son of Djenâb-Beha, the successor to the Bâb, elected in 1852, still live? Does he still reside and make converts at Bagdad? And does this Egyptian Mahdi, who is giving Europe so much trouble, give himself out as the last and crowning Revelation in this line? Or has he no connection whatever with Persia and the Bâb?-MARY F. WILSON, in The Contemporary Review. SHAKESPEARE'S LOVE'S LABORS LOST. LOVE'S LABORS LOST is one of the earliest of Shakespeare's dramas, and has many of the peculiarities of his poems, which are also the work of his earlier life. The opening speech of the King on the immortality of fame-on the triumph of fame over death-and the nobler parts of Biron, have something of the monumental style of Shakespeare's Sonnets, man "-words which may remind us of Shakespeare's own epitaph. In the last scene, an ingenious turn is given to the action, so that the piece does not conclude after the manner of other comedies "Our wooing doth not end like an old play; Jack hath not Jill;" and Shakespeare strikes a passionate note across it at last, in the entrance of the messenger, who announces to the Princess that the King her father is suddenly dead. The merely dramatic interest of the piece is slight enough-only just sufficient, indeed, to be the vehicle of its wit and poetry. The scene-a park of the King of Navarre-is unaltered throughout; and the unity of the play is not so much the unity of a drama as that of a series of pictorial groups, in which the same figures reappear, in different combinations, but on the same background. It is as if Shakespeare had intended to bind together, by some inventive conceit, the devices of an ancient tapestry, and give voices to its figures. On one side, a fair palace; on the other, the tents of the Princess of France, who has come on an embassy from her father to the King of Navarre; in the midst, a wide space of smooth grass. The same personages are combined over and over again into a series of gallant scenes-the Princess, the three masked ladies, the quaint, pedantic King—one of those amiable kings men have never loved enough, whose serious occupation with the things of the mind seems, by contrast with the more usual forms of kingship, like frivolity or play. Some of a real sense of fitness and nicety; and which, the figures are grotesque merely, and, all the as we see in this very play, and still more male ones at least, a little fantastic. Certain clearly in the Sonnets, had some fascination objects reappearing from scene to scene for the young Shakespeare himself. It is this love-letters crammed with verses to the mar- foppery of delicate language, this fashionable gin, and lovers' toys-hint obscurely at some plaything of his time, with which Shakespeare story of intrigue. Between these groups, on a is occupied in Love's Labors Lost. He shows smaller scale, come the slighter and more us the manner in all its stages; passing from the homely episodes, with Sir Nathaniel the cu- grotesque and vulgar pedantry of Holofernes, rate, the country-maid Jaquenetta, Moth or through the extravagant but polished caricaMote the elfin-page, with Hiems and Ver, ture of Armado, to become the peculiar charwho recite "the dialogue that the two learned acteristic of a real though still quaint poetry men have compiled in praise of the owl and the in Biron himself-still chargeable, even at his cuckoo." The ladies are lodged in tents, be- best, with just a little affectation. As Shakescause the King, like the princess of the mod-peare laughs broadly at it in Holofernes or ern poet's fancy, has taken a vow "To make his court a little Academe," Armado, he is the analyst of its curious charm in Biron; and this analysis involves a delicate raillery by Shakespeare himself at his own chosen manner. and for three years' space no woman may come within a mile of it; and the play shows This "foppery" of Shakespeare's day had, how this artificial attempt was broken through. then, its really delightful side, a quality in no For the King and his three fellow-scholars are sense "affected," by which it satisfies a real inof course soon forsworn, and turn to writing stinct in our minds-the fancy so many of us sonnets, each to his chosen lady. These fel- have for an exquisite and curious skill in the low-scholars of the King-"quaint votaries use of words. Biron is the perfect flower of this of science," at first, afterwards, "affection's manner men-at-arms"-three youthful knights, gallant, "A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight." amorous, chivalrous, but also a little affected, sporting always a curious foppery of language-as he describes Armado, in terms which are -are throughout the leading figures in the really applicable to himself. In him this manforeground, one of them, in particular, being more carefully depicted than the others, and in himself very noticeable-a portrait with somewhat puzzling manner and expression, which at once catches the eye irresistibly and keeps it fixed. ner blends with a true gallantry of nature, and an affectionate complaisance and grace. He has at times some of its extravagance or caricature also, but the shades of expression by which he passes from this to the “golden cadence" of Shakespeare's own chosen verse, Play is often that about which people are are so fine, that it is sometimes difficult to most serious; and the humorist may observe trace them. What is a vulgarity in Holoferhow, under all love of playthings, there is al-nes, and a caricature in Armado, refines itself most always hidden an appreciation of some-in him into the expression of a nature truly thing really engaging and delightful. This is and inwardly bent upon a form of delicate pertrue always of the toys of children; it is often fection, and is accompanied by a real insight true of the playthings of grown-up people, their into the laws which determine what is exquisvanities, their fopperies even-the cynic would ite in language, and their root in the nature of add their pursuit of fame and their lighter things. He can appreciate quite the opposite loves. Certainly, this is true without excep-style "In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes;" "Honest plain words best suit the ear of grief." tion of the playthings of a past age, which to those who succeed it are always full of a pensive interest-old manners, old dresses, old he knows the first law of pathos, that— houses. For what is called fashion in these matters occupies, in each age, much of the care of many of the most discerning people, He delights in his own rapidity of intuition; furnishing them with a kind of mirror of their and in harmony with the half-sensuous philosreal inward refinements, and their capacity for ophy of the Sonnets, exalts, a little scornfully, selection. Such modes or fashions are, at in many memorable expressions, the judgment their best, an example of the artistic predom- of the senses, above all slower, more toilsome inance of form over matter; of the manner of means of knowledge, scorning some who fail the doing of it over the thing done; and have to see things only because they are so cleara beauty of their own. It is so with that old "So ere you find where light in darkness lies, euphuism of the Elizabethan age--that pride Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes”— of dainty language and curious expression, which it is very easy to ridicule, which often as with some German commentators on Shakesmade itself ridiculous, but which had below it peare. Appealing always to actual sensation from men's affected theories, he might seem to despise learning; as, indeed, he has taken up his deep studies partly in play, and demands always the profit of learning in renewed enjoyment; yet he surprises us from time to time by intuitions which can come only from a deep experience and power of observation; and men listen to him, old and young, in spite of themselves. He is quickly impressible to the slightest clouding of the spirits in social intercourse, and has his moments of extreme seriousness; his trial-task may well be, as Rosaline puts it "To enforce the pained impotent to smile." But still, through all, he is true to his chosen manner, that gloss of dainty language is a second nature with him; even at his best he is not without a certain artifice, the trick of playing on words never deserts him; and Shakespeare, in whose own genius there is an element of this very quality, shows us in this graceful, and, as it seems, studied, portrait, his enjoyment of it. THE ORIGIN OF THE ALPHABET.* DR. ISAAC TAYLOR begins his interesting book on The Alphabet by saying that, "if we set aside the still more wonderful invention of speech, the discovery of the Alphabet may fairly be accounted the most difficult as well as the most fruitful of all the past achievements of the human intellect." But, like speech, it was not discovered all at once. The history of the alphabet, in fact, is a history of slow and painful growth, and every letter contains the record of its origin and transformations as indelibly imprinted upon it as the records of the past history of life are indelibly imprinted upon the rocks. One of the chief lessons of Dr. Taylor's book is that the history of our writing forms no exception to that law of development which modern research has found to preside over the destinies of the universe. Letters are not arbitrarily invented, except in very rare instances, and their forms are not arbitrarily changed, except on very rare occasions. And such inventions and changes have always been the product of analogy. The Mormon alphabet, which Joseph Smith averred had been revealed to him by an angel, was really a modification of English cursive writing, and the syllabary invented by Sequoyah for his Cherokee fellowcountrymen was modelled on the characters he had seen in European books. The new characters in Mr. Pitman's phonetic alphabet owe their existence to the letters to which we have been accustomed ever since we were As happens with every true dramatist, Shakespeare is for the most part hidden behind the persons of his creation. Yet there are certain of his characters in which we feel that there is something of self-portraiture. And it is not so much in his grander, more subtle and ingenious creations that we feel this-in Hamlet and King Lear-as in those slighter and more spontaneously developed figures who, while far from playing principal parts, are yet distinguished by a certain peculiar happiness and delicate ease in the draw-children. ing of them-figures which possess, above all, that winning attractiveness which there is no man but would willingly exercise, and which resemble these works of art which, though not meant to be very great or imposing, are yet wrought of the choicest material. Mercutio, in Romeo and Juliet, belongs to this group of Shakespeare's characters-versatile, mercurial people, such as make good actors, and in whom the "Nimble spirits of the arteries," the finer but still merely animal elements of If, then, no new alphabetic letters are ever devised, even in this inventive age of the world, except in imitation and after the analogy of the letters of our current alphabet, we may well ask how this alphabet itself origin Bristol, England, in 1846. He became a Scholar of The Rev. ARCHIBALD HENRY SAYCE was born near |