THE DEATH OF HOFER. From the German " Zu Mantua in Banden."-MOSEN. AFTER the fatal battle of Wagram, Austria was compelled to surrender the Tyrol, and it returned to the domination of Bavaria. Hofer, who till then had conducted the civil and military affairs of that country, laid down his arms; but, in consequence of a false report of the renewal of hostilities, resumed them. He was at last forced to yield to superior force and stratagem: after lying for two months concealed, in the midst of snow and ice, in a poor mountain hut in Passeyr, he was betrayed into the hands of the French, conducted to Mantua, and shot on the 20th of January, 1810. The Emperor Francis had a monument erected to his memory in 1834, in the Franciscan Church of Innspruck. It is a plain slab, to the left on entering, not far from the monument of Maximilian. The translator has seen many a Tyrolese peasant, male and female, accompanied with their children, kneel down and pray beside it. Few acts of the Emperor so endeared him and his House to this simple and true-hearted people, as this unostentatious testimony to the devotion and heroism of their beloved native leader. At Mantua, in fetters, To death, to death in Mantua, Bears him the foe away ; His brothers' hearts they beat and bleed ; His hands bound fast behind him, With a calm and steady footstep ;- In the holy land Tyrol. And as through prison-gratings, Their hands he sees his comrades Stretch, as he walks along, He cries aloud "God bless you! And the Empire now betrayed, but true, And with it land Tyrol." And in vain now strikes the drummer The drum obeys no more, As now Andreas Hofer Strides thro' the gloomy door : : And e'en in fetters stands he free, On the bastion firm and proud stands he, The man from land Tyrol ! And now kneel down they'd make him—. He cries-"That will I not I'll die, as I am standing I'll die, as I have fought Here by this ditch, where I have stood Long live our Kaiser Franz the good! And his good land Tyrol !" And from his hands, the fetters The corporal unties ; And now Andreas Hofer For the last time prays, and cries, "Now, hit me quick! now hit me higher!— Farewell my land Tyrol !" * Deutschland, Teutschland-Germany. W. + Here Hofer defeated the Bavarians, under Marshal Lefèbre, in two engagements, on the 23rd and 29th of May, 1809. The two first discharges from six muskets were ineffectual. The thirteenth ball proved fatal. LAST DAYS OF A REPUBLICAN CONDEMNED TO DEATH. ONCE in my life I passed two days under sentence of death,—and such days! On the 12th July, 1839, the chief officer of the Court of Peers, M. Cruchy, entered my chamber with the sad tidings of my fate. He read aloud the sentence which the peers, after four days' deliberation, had pronounced upon me,-it was death! For a moment, a sickly faintness came over me, and a chilly perspiration hung upon my brow; but I soon regained my wonted demeanour, when M. Cruchy politely suggested that I should immediately attend to my religious duties. I thanked him for his benevolent feeling, at the same time observing, that my mind was perfectly tranquil on the score of religion, and that I was fully prepared to meet my fate; but I begged him to inform me of my heroic friend, Martin Bernard, and of the fate of my unfortunate co-accused, Mialon and Delsade. * Left alone with the governor of the prison and his subordinates, who kept strict watch over me, I had to undergo a final search, when they examined me from head to foot. They removed the buckles from my waistcoat and trowsers, the ring from my finger,-the last souvenir of my beloved sister, and some other trifles from my pockets, all of which were deposited with the greffe. When the search was over, the governor left me with two keepers, who never let me go out of their sight; and my mind naturally reverted to a subject I had long pondered on-capital punishment-and the thoughts of those doomed to experience it. Imagination, however, is sometimes stronger than reality. I had read with horror, since my imprisonment, of the camisole de force, the limbs bound, the operation of the toilette, and the pain which must be endured by the poor criminal condemned to death. I was completely overwhelmed, and my heart sank within me; surely never was such bitter anguish endured by mortal being! To divert my thoughts, however, as well as I could, I lit my pipe, and smoked away with the utmost energy; but it was of no use, for my mind was too full, and not even the condolence of my keepers, who treated me with the greatest kindness, could diminish the sensations which were crowding on me at that moment. It was nine in the evening when the sentence was read, which, with the search and other petty matters, had eaten far into the night, and I made up my mind to retire. I was in hopes of having a good sleep; but I had scarcely thrown myself upon my bed, when the door of my chamber was opened, and I divined at once the purpose of the visit. It was the camisole operation. One of the keepers who entered held it behind his back, as though he wished to conceal it from my view; but I saw the cords hanging to it between his legs, which immediately confirmed my thoughts. As it was necessary to go through the ceremony, I rose up as soon as the chief keeper entered, observing that it was unnecessary to take such precautions, for I had no desire to spare those who had condemned me to death, the trouble of taking my life, when he replied, "I have a duty to perform, monsieur;" to which I nodded assent, and drew near to the lamp, in order that my toilette might be performed with the greater care and ease. * The coarse vest worn by criminals condemned to death. The camisole is a large vest of coarse cloth, open at the back, and closed in front,-like a coat reversed,-with long, tight sleeves, which hang down below the hands. It is fastened behind with straps and buckles; and at the end of the sleeves there are eyelet holes, through which a cord is tightly drawn, until they become like the mouth of a tied sack. Your arms are then bound one upon the other, and the cord is passed round your body and over your shoulders, when it is tied in a knot behind your back. In this guise you can just move your legs; but the most disagreeable part of the affair is, that you cannot find an easy position for sleeping. If you lie down on your side, the weight of the body soon cramps the arm; and, if on the back, the knot of the cord between the shoulders, and the leather straps and buckles, almost penetrate the flesh. I tried every position, and found the last the best; but the pain was so acute that I could not sleep, and, after one or two fruitless efforts, in which my dreamy state was full of my fatal and approaching end, I gave it up as a bad job, Having but a few hours to live, I thought it my duty to employ that short space of time in collecting my thoughts, and putting my ideas in order. While thinking on these matters the time passed rapidly away; and as day approached, one of the keepers, taking a glance at the pale light which just then shone on my face, exclaimed," Poor fellow! he sleeps; it would have been better for him had the ball, which struck his face, killed him at once." These words aroused me from the dreamy state in which I was plunged, and I felt acutely the pain which the toilette had caused me. . . . . . The clock struck three; and I began to calculate the minutes ere M. le Bourreau would make his appearance. In imagination I was bidding adieu to all earthly affections,-to my country, my sister, my brother, and divers other friends; and from my heart I embraced them all. Suddenly I heard the noise of men and horses trampling in the court of the prison, and I thought then my time was really come. "It is the hour," I said to myself, and expected every instant that my door would be opened, when I began to pray most fervently; but it was only the guard changing duty, and all again was painfully silent and profound. At eight o'clock the governor paid us a visit, when he ordered my arms to be released, which seemed a great luxury; at the same time he requested to introduce the chaplain, M. Montes, but I resolutely refused to see the priest. The hour of execution had passed for that day, so that I appeared to have abundance of time, having counted my existence by minutes just before. I passed hours in smoking my pipe and reading the poetry of Byron, which relieved me in some measure from the painful thoughts of my fate, and the deep grief it must occasion to my family. Towards noon I saw several of my fellow-prisoners in the walk which stretched just below my windows, among whom I recognised the unfortunate Mialon and the brave little Martin Nöel, who appeared to retain all his vivacity and humour,un vrai gamin de Paris. Mialon was sadly dejected, and slunk into a corner quite alone. When Nöel descried me through the bars of my window, he cried out, "Five years, M. Barbès; they have condemned me to five years, do you know?" apparently indifferent to his fate; but when I made a sign with my hand that I was to be guillotined, he seemed for a moment as though he doubted me, yet when he caught sight of the camisole he required no further proof, and exclaimed, "Mon Dieu! I who was so delighted to hear that you were only banished." He then flung himself upon a bench, with his head buried in his hands, and apparently in great agony. I know that his sorrow was sincere. While I was promenading in the evening, I was summoned to the parloir, where I found my brother and cousin, and would gladly have been spared so painful an interview. After I had bid them, as I thought, a last adieu, my mind felt lighter, and I had only one more effort to get over,—to take farewell of my dearly-beloved and affectionate sister. In the mean time I began to think seriously of my last words to the people, and wished to leave some souvenir, in the shape of a sentiment, behind me, as other political martyrs-Morey, Pipin, and Alibaudhad done, when my attention was again called to the parloir by the keeper, with the information that some friends were waiting to see me. I made up my mind that it was my poor sister, and I really dreaded the interview; but, to my great surprise, it was my advocate, Arago, and my brother-in-law, who appeared to have a smile upon their features. "Well, and how are you now?" exclaimed Arago. "As well as can be expected of one who is to be executed to-morrow," I replied. "Then you will soon be better," he rejoined, "for you will not be executed." It is impossible to describe the sensations I experienced at that moment. A sudden coldness seized all my frame, and I shook from head to foot. . . . . . . " Then I am to be sent to the galleys; to be chained with villains and cut-throats.” . . . . . . Arago endeavoured to calm my fears, by observing that public opinion would revolt against such a destiny; "And even were it so," he exclaimed, "it is preferable to death.".. There seemed one universal feeling of joy throughout the prison, for the news spread like wildfire; and as I passed by a window in returning to my chamber I recognised the martial figure of Delsade, who in breathless haste inquired what was my destiny. "They tell me," I replied, " that I am not to be guillotined." "Vive la République, then!" he shouted with his stentorian voice, which rung again through the corridors, and he hurried from the window to impart the news to his fellow-prisoners. About one in the morning the governor awoke me out of a curious sleep, which was chequered with dreams, and ordered me to prepare for a journey. When I descended to the court-yard, I was hurried into a sort of cellular vehicle, which is constructed for the conveyance of prisoners to their destined abodes; and before daylight had dawned on the city of Paris I was on the road to Mont-Saint-Michel, -a dreary prison in which I spent the best years of my life, away from friends whom I dearly cherished, and pursuits in which I took great delight. THE BATTLE OF CHALGRAVE FIELD; THE WOUND, AND DEATH OF HAMPDEN. BY W. WHITE COOPER. "Dulce et decorum est pro patriâ mori." THE 18th of June has associations connected with it in the minds of Englishmen, which stir the heart, and make the eye shine bright. The glorious eighteenth! Waterloo day! which annually feeds our national vanity by reminding us of the triumph of British valour over the veteran legions of France, led by their warrior emperor, and which decided for more than thirty years the destinies of Europe. There are, however, other associations of interest connected with that day, although now nearly effaced by the stream of time. Waterloo is not the only battle upon which the sun of the eighteenth has risen. Two hundred and five years ago a scene of carnage was acted in the most peaceful part of this our favoured land; and the setting rays of that sun shed light upon the death-bed of one of the noblest spirits -one of the greatest men to whom this island has given birth. In order that the events we have to narrate may be fully understood, it is necessary to take a rapid glance at the posture of affairs as they then stood, and, so far as the subject of our memoir is concerned, at the circumstances which led to them. In the year 1627 England was in a transition state: freedom of thought and action was bursting into life, and the people regarded with a jealous eye the unlimited exercise of the royal prerogative, under cloak of which the King had invaded their privileges, and was depriving them of their rights. The revival of letters had been favourable to the growth of liberty, whilst the demand for our manufactures, the extension of commerce, and corresponding influx of wealth, had for some time given a rapidly-increasing importance to the commonalty. Thus, a great moral revolution was gradually developing itself at the time that Charles I., who had ascended the throne with all the prejudices of irresponsibility, and strong in the conviction of the divine right of kings, endeavoured to carry out his precepts in their most objectionable form. But the breath of liberty had been breathed into the nostrils of his people; they felt their strength and independence, and prepared to resist the unconstitutional encroachments of the sovereign. It was at this important epoch that the great champion of liberty, John Hampden, first appeared on the stage of public life. Hampden being in the enjoyment of an ample fortune, and having married early, had passed the greater part of his time on his estates in Buckinghamshire, where he was remarked among his neighbours for the serenity of his temper, the simplicity of his mode of life, his strong good sense, and the moderation of his political views. But an event occurred which made his name a watchword for liberty throughout the land. The arbitrary proceedings of the King had been gradually alienating from him the affections of his people, and a strong feeling of irritation had arisen amongst all classes. One of the obnoxious enactments was the impost of ship money, " A word," says Lord Clarendon, "of a lasting sound in the memory of this kingdom." This ship-money was a requisition issued at first to the sheriffs of London, but subsequently extended to the maritime and VOL. XXIV. I |