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From the London Court Magazine.

LUCID INTERVAL OF A MAD

PRISONER.

A PASSAGE FROM THE DIARY OF "THE CLERGYMAN IN DEBT."

in

Mad! exclaims the reader. Oh no, surely not! Will you tell me, that when the worst and dreariest calamity that in grief can visit virtue, or, retribution, sin-has fallen upon a fellow-being; when the bosom is fevered, and the heart burns, and a storm is howling in the caverns of the brain, deserted as they are by reason, and shut out from light;-when love's blessed spirit is lost in frenzy, and memory makes way for despair; when all man's intellects lay prostrate, and all his affections are banished, all his hopes undone; can the law, holding a tyrant power over one who acknowledges no dictates, and is irresponsible as a child, follow up an awful divine visitation, with the hollow mockery of human vengeance, and take the madman from his fit asylum, to close upon him the portals of a jail!

What the law can do it is no part of our vocation to establish; but what it has done we are free to tell, and we answer the question which we have imagined for our reader, with the assertion, that it has many times committed the insane to prison for the crime of debt.

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A few days since it was my lot to read the funeral service over the body of Frederic Storr. He was buried in some ground attached to a small chapel in the rules of the King's Bench, within which he had resided twelve years. A few hired mourners saw him committed to the tomb, and one woman, who wept very bitterly, but who I afterwards ascertained was not connected with him by any positive tie of kindred. He had traveled friendless from the living grave of his prison to the darker, but scarce drearier dwelling below the earth! I had known him for some years previous to his death-he was mad, save at occasional lucid intervals, when memory seemed to return with sense, and he could converse with presence and rationality of mind. Strangely too, at those moments he could recall and talk of the tormenting visions of his insanity, and none was then more aware that he had been mad. He could go back, too, to the early events of his life, and often narrate the incidents that had brought him into jail.

I happened one morning in my ramble round the rules of the prison, to meet Storr coming through the little gate before his dwelling, and by his salutation I perceived that he had an interval of sense-one of those beautiful episodes of light and reason that for a time restore order in the brain. I spent the whole of that day with him, endeavouring to amuse his mind, while it retained its empire, with rapid and changeful conversation, for of itself it seemed to revert, through the power of memory, to the stormy "Past" of Storr's unhappy life. Towards evening, Storr's uneasiness upon this point increased, and at last I was obliged to allow him to unburthen himself of the history, which he was fond of arrating, of what had fallen out in the dark page his destiny. The story is here presented to

the reader as from the lips of its melancholy hero!

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"My mother died when I was sixteen. I shall never-no, not even in madness, forget my mother's death. I was with her to the last. I alone last sweet smile, and blessed me with her farewell my father was away then-and she kissed words. I remember I had been a wild boy; I had me with her last kiss, and smiled upon me with her given her many moments of pain and heart-ache, and impetuous folly would in the end be my ruin. and she often feared that my irrepressible levity A fear of this sort seemed to pervade her spirit before, on holy wings, it took its far flight to God; for just before she died she said, with her mild quiet voice and look, 'Dearest Fred-do-do be steady when I am gone;' and I promised it fervently. I will, mother, I will indeed!'-See, see how memory makes me weep!

it soon fled after my mother was carried to her "My father came home. He grieved a little, but his sorrow was shallow and unenduring; and grave.. I know not even if it lasted out the dead, he did not neglect the living: he saw me mourning suit. But if my father soon forgot the keeping the promise I had made to my dying mother-to be steady after she was gone.' I had and given up dissipation for my books. He beexchanged the theatres and saloons for study, gan at once to interest himself in my pursuits, and set himself, well competent to the task, to complete my education. turned it blasted the better feelings, and blighted The channel into which he the flowers of my heart, and made me what you see me now. motive: alas! he taught me how to remain so I had become steady with a good with a bad purpose.

ness denied to him the power of enduring those "My father was a sordid man; but his selfishprivations by which he could have sown in early life the seeds of a fortune that might have swelled into the Leviathan wealth of a Baring or a Rothschild, and he now sought to revive the lost opportunity in his son. work, and filled my mind with a cursed learning; he awoke in me a bad ambition, by teaching me He went cunningly to the knowledge of the power of gold. Poverty he made me fear, and wealth worship. He alchemysed my affections, and turned the current of of Mammon; all bright dreams vanished, save my heart. The love of man changed into the love those which money seemed to gild. The charms, the glorious beauties of external nature, lost all loveliness in my sight, and became as nothing before the glittering attractions of a bank, or a vision of the interior of an iron chest. To accumulate became a passion with me, and the spirit of usury an idol in my heart. So my father was gratified, and he rejoiced to see me a miser and a Mammon-lover, at the age of twenty-one.

that which he had taught me to adore. He saw "Before he died, I had made a profession of me engaged in partnership with a bill-broker, equally famous for his extortionate discounts, and his impenetrability of heart; and when I stood by my father's bed-side in the hour of death, he left me and the world, saying-Fred, my boy, God

bless you, I am going now, but I'm glad to leave | by whom they had been decoyed, in a moment you in the way of making your fortune.' of need, into the debts which we now sought "The first sacrifice I made at the altar of to punish them for owing. Injustice, custom, money was by a marriage, for its love alone, to and the desire of wealth, had effectually closed a thoughtless and senseless girl, who had no the avenues of sympathy in our hearts, and our other positive attractions than a pretty face and a feelings were petrified, or we could not have heavy purse, the first of which was generally con- lived under the ordeals of touching narrative, fronted with a mirror, while of the latter I took tear-waking eloquence, and affecting appeal, especial care myself. The fortune procured me which we had daily to undergo. God!-in that some pleasure; but the only moment of real hap- brief period what a life was mine. Day after day piness I ever enjoyed with my wife was, when, did I enter my counting-house to find on my desk at the end of the first year of our union, I made letters that should have warmed an icicle to pity, the discovery that she was not likely to encumber and melted an avalanche into a torrent of benevome with the expense of children. lence and human mercy for my kind! Here was "I devoted myself to my business, which I told a tale from a lone woman, that her house was you was that of stock-broker, with intense dili- desolated by my execution, that her husband was gence; but, oh! I look back upon it with more in- in prison at my suit. There lay a letter from a tense disgust. All the elements of the earth-young victim just taken to a spunging-house, the quake, that has since shattered my heart and first step on his extravagant path to jail, where, overturned my brain, were moulded in its cursed by our means, his heart was to be hardened, and crucible in which I sought my gold. Upon the his morals made corrupt. Now I read the statesea of life it foundered me, and I am now tossed ment of a father, that his wife must die, his busithere a wretched wreck. By the God of Heaven ness be neglected, his children starve, if I kept it was a fearful trade. Tell me not of the soldier him within stone walls. Personal intercessions, on the plains, nor of the doctor at the bed of suf- too, poured in upon me. A mother from the fering, of torture, and of death: the scenes of the Bench, a wife from the Fleet, a daughter from battle and the plague are a feather in the balance Whitecross-street, a sister from the Marshalsea of misery, when weighed against those which I or Horsemonger-lane, would come before me in have seen and caused—yes, I, the relentless agent quick succession, sometimes mocking their own of other's sorrows, bartered for usury and begot in hearts, by assuming the smile by which they guilt. hoped to charm; but oftener with tears, entreaties, and deluding hopes, soliciting the liberty of those they loved. Strange that I could be so coldly callous as to have left them unrelieved, bowed down by their oppression, for a purposein which humanity was forgotten for gold-so worldly as an enquiry into the validity of a new bill! Since then I have wept burning tears for every shilling that I gained by usury, and raved out curses upon my own head, in madness for every prayer of affection that my brutality refused to grant.

Soon, soon, soon followed the retribution; it rushed upon me fiercely like a Niagarean torrent; it gave no warning, it brought no compassion, it left no hope;-it burned my heart, stone as it was, to a cinder; ravenously as a vulture it fed upon my spirit, and set a seal of darkness upon my brain. The curses of the ruined, embodied in the form of fiends, danced around me in my visions; they put my soul in fury, they encircled me with torments in fever, and from my dreams their howling woke me raving mad! Mad I have been!-mad I must be !-mad I am!"

"We had connected ourselves in a short time with a host of attorneys, Jews, bailiffs, moneylenders, and all the offscums of our trade. Does a man fall from his horse, he goes to the surgeon to have blood let,-and so did we-leeches in another sense-bleed the hundreds, who having fallen in circumstances came to us for temporary relief. The tide seemed at first to flow from their purses, but often did it eventually prove to be the blood of the hearts! All our connections had to live. This was the great secret of the misery which we caused. It was our business to discount bills with enormous usury, under a certainty that they would not be paid when due, although we were sure of the money soon after, but we never waited. The bits of paper were passed over to the lawyers with whom we were linked, and each took his turn, with a dishonoured bill, to arrest the unfortunates who had their names attached, either as drawers, acceptors, or in the way of indorsement; for, to increase cost, we invariably issued writs against them all. Then the Jew bailiffs were brought into play, and they made money either by arresting the parties, or by taking fees not to arrest. Thus it was an organised system of plunder, of which we were the polluted source. The tide of accommodation rolled onward from our house, but its streams "No," said he, as he resumed, with a manner were pregnant with poison, and brought heart-calmed by my effort to distract him from his burnings to all who drank. As our connection increased, we held in every prison in London, victims whom we had arrested, and not a few in the jails of county towns; and yet not one instance can I recollect that the persons whom we kept in durance deserved imprisonment, for they would have paid us if we had not sent them thither, and we were the swindlers, upon system,

No, no, no!" said I, fearful of a relapse, from the rising energy of the maniac, and at once I sought to change the theme of talk; but he was not to be diverted.

story; "no, I have told you so far, and while I can I will tell you all. We went on with our damnable game of usury, and as we made money we increased our speculations to a large extent. At last we had out an immense number of bills indorsed with our own names, of which however we were pretty confident as to the respectability of most of the acceptors. About the time the

"It must be so, Mary! it shall be so! fear not, love! my mother shall be your nurse, and I will be your physician! Oh! why-why not tell me! Cruel, and yet noble girl! but mine you shall be, and we will yet be happy. Smile, my love, as was your wont, and we will hasten back, and all

midsummer, that James again trod the precincts | passionate sensibility, he alternately deplored and of the rectory of R, which had been the blamed her, till both, equally overcome by past home of his youth, and the scene of his day- and present recollections, sat down, and a gush dream of happiness. Every thing appeared pre- of tears came to relieve Mary's over-weighted cisely in the same state as when he had left it-heart. Her simple tale of suffering was soon the rectory, the church, the ancient turnstile, the told-how that day after day she had become winding field-road, and a crowd of happy yet sor- weaker and weaker, and how that she had wished rowful reminiscences filled his mind. Not a spot only to see him once again before she should die. but which was endeared to him by the remem- "Yes," she continued, "I know I must die, brance of his venerable father or of Mary Jen- and I shall die happy, because I die for you. Oh nings; and so powerful were the associations that it might have been different! that I might which came over him, that he expected at every have been yours, my own love! to have called step to hear the light foot-fall that had once been you mine, and have lived to lavish upon you all— the constant attendant of his own in the walk he all I had to bestow,—my heart, my soul, my very was now pursuing. existence" and she buried her face in his breast, The evening was splendidly lovely, and the as her maidenly blushes overcame for a moment rich twilight had enshrouded the landscape, as he the hectic tinge of her worn and pallid cheek. reached the narrow lane leading to Mrs. Jen- With what emotions James heard these details, nings's cottage. His heart beat fast, as every may be better conceived than described. She well-remembered copse, hedge-row, and tree was who had been the idol of his earthly adoration,seen in the dim and quiet light. Not a sound she whose love had been intertwined with all his was abroad, save the rustle of the dying breeze in hopes and plans of happiness, thus-thus to be the elm-grove; and an undefinable feeling of un-bowed down and broken, and all for him, without easiness came over him, as he stood before the one murmur, without one complaint-it was low paling in the front of the house. Every thing more than even his Christian philosophy could around him, however, had its well-remembered support; and he wept like a child, as he vowed appearance of order and neatness; and encou- that his she should be, that he would carry her raged by this, he opened the low wicket, and, back as his wife, and that He whose faithful before proceeding to the door, approached a lat- though humble servant he had been, would spare ticed window half-hidden by jasmine and honey-her to his heart. suckle. It was at this window that he had been accustomed to sit with Mary during the first burst and glow of his young love, and a host of happy memories filled his breast as he leaned against it. The gloom of early evening made objects in the interior of the cottage somewhat indistinct; but as with cautious hand he pushed back the inter-will be well!” vening foliage, he could see his betrothed bride and her aged and venerable mother, at an opposite window, both silently engaged in readingMary a letter, probably one of his own, and Mrs. Jennings, her Bible. A light tap, which he gave on the glass, made Mary scream-well did she remember it, and, as James opened the door, he found himself in the arms of the weeping maiden. His greeting was most affectionately cordial, and several hours were passed in mingled smiles and tears. Edwards was sensible of the decay in the person of Mary; but as his presence flushed and agitated her, it remained for the following morning to betray the ravages, which "hope de- On their way homewards Mary's debilitated ferred," and a woman's passionate love, had condition was still more apparent: once and worked in the once blooming Mary Jennings. again had she to pause and rest,-but James's At an early hour they were pursuing one of their arm was a grateful support; and these symptoms favourite walks; and as James gazed upon her of weakness increased ten-fold his anxious desire face, and felt her tottering weight, he enquired to put an end to the exhausting conflict of love anxiously and eagerly after her health. For- and prudence, which had already nearly overmerly, the style over which he was now compel-whelmed her. Mrs. Jennings, on being consultled almost to lift her, had been lightly sprung over; and the pace, now feeble and trembling, had then resembled that of the young roe: and one by one these evidences of destroyed health became visible to James, the truth flashed on his mind, that the loving and beloved object of his most treasured affections had been pining and withering, whilst he, utterly unconscious of had been the cause of the blight which had ne over her young beauty. With a burst of

as

And Mary did smile as she leaned fondly upon him; but it was the smile of satisfied faith, not the rapturous look that would have hailed the announcement at an earlier period. Indeed, so long had she been in the habit of considering herself doomed to an early and vestal grave, that now when James in a burst of tenderness clasped her to his heart, and called her his, her emotions were of a holier and loftier character than those excited by merely earthly love. It seemed as if she had won the temple of her wishes, but that her sole hope was to lay down her life as a sacrifice before its shrine.

ed, gave her assent to their immediate union; and James hastened to the rectory to make preparations for his nuptials, which he was determined should be celebrated on the following day.

Every consideration had given way before Mary's drooping figure and pale and angel-like countenance. Though not labouring under any specific disease, the withering touch of overexcitement had greatly weakened the springs of life; and the effect of this upon her outward

the "waking bliss," which she had briefly enjoyed, had served to show her how worthy was the object of her regard; and though she knew she must leave him, she gazed upon and caressed him, without a murmur that this delight was fast fleeting.

form had been to give her a delicacy of expression-a look so fragile, and yet so lovely, that his heart must have been hard indeed, who could have gazed on her unmoved. James, indeed, was sensible only of the decay; for to him she had been from boyhood pre-eminently beautiful. On retiring for the night, with his uneasiness in The "poisoned arrow" had, indeed, too truly some degree quelled by the decisive steps which done its work; and Mary Edwards now presenthe had taken, he began to think over the conse-ed one of the most painful, and yet one of the quences. Much he could see would have to be most beautiful aspects under which humanity endured-self mingled not in his reflections; but can be contemplated,-a young and lovely bride, as these embraced his mother, sister, his wife, slowly dying of consumption. The picture is and her mother, there was abundance of scope not an unusual one; for to finely and delicately for unquiet thought. He had, however, the con- organised systems, the expectations previous to soling thought that he should save the perishing and the excitement following marriage, especially girl, and gratify his long and patiently endured where the affections are deeply engrossed, often prove the grave of blooming womanhood. Mary had long been pining; and, had her union with James taken place at an earlier date, the "cankerworm" might have been resisted. But it was too late; and her husband, when that

love.

Morning came, and Mary Jennings became the wife of James Edwards; and in a few days, by easy journeys, they reached his home, where they were welcomed by his mother and sisters. Mrs. Jennings had accompanied them, so that they were again one family. Love and cheerfulness were diffused through their household; and all believed, even Mary herself, that her long-anticipated doom had been averted. For some weeks, indeed, she was obviously better: she was happy: idolised by her husband, loved by all around her, and her life one of unmixed delight. This roused her energies, and nature struggled to free herself from the pressure which had been so long weighing her down. But the very excitement to which she was subjected, although it counteracted for a time the mischief already done, soon began to prey upon her small remains of strength; and again she grew feeble and drooping, and again the conviction rose within her mind, that her removal from all she held dear was not very

remote.

Tradition, history, the results of the operations of nature, and the ruins of works of art, concur in Meanwhile, the diminution of the curate's in-proving, that there existed on the upper Nile, a come had made itself felt; but the privations necessarily arising from this had been borne cheerfully, nay pleasantly. Mrs. Jennings's mite had been added to the common stock; and thus contented, religious, and fulfilling all their duties, the curate's family was, what such families ought to be, a model of Christian living.

highly civilised people, who dwelt in cities, erected pyramids and temples, recorded events by means of hieroglyphics, and possessed fixed laws and government, the fame of whose progress in science and the social arts had spread in the earliest ages over a great part of the earth. The Ethiopians were equally celebrated and mysteriThe first chill breezes of autumn produced a ous: the annals of the Egyptian priests bear testivery unfavourable change in Mary's health, and mony to their glory; fragments of their national rapid consumption was now fully developed. legends, of the wars and conquests of their heroes, James saw the approaching bereavement with a were found interwoven with the traditions of the heart torn with anguish, grief, and remorse. He inhabitants of central Asia on the Tigris and blamed himself for having been the unconscious Euphrates; and when the Greeks scarcely knew destroyer of his sainted wife; and this feeling Italy or Sicily by name, their poets spoke of the aggravated ten-fold his sorrow. For her, she Ethiopians as a people known to popular fame. bore her painless illness with a meek and cheer- The state of Meroë, generally described as the ful spirit, that served only to increase the love of dominant division of Ethiopia, has been celebrathose who were about to lose her. Day after day ted for upwards of two thousand years; but its her cheek became thinner and thinner, and her distant situation, the deserts by which it is fenced, frame more attenuated: but still her eye beamed and the ignorant jealousy of the Egyptian mamebrightly, and her low and soft voice seemed to be lukes, prevented access to the spot. The subject more and more musical. For hours together seemed involved in hopeless obscurity, and many would Edwards bend over her, and, in impas-writers held its ancient glory to be fabulous, and sioned accents of most pure and holy affection, regarded the first cataract of the Nile as the utmost lavish upon her the treasured hoard of the love verge of ancient science and art. Within our own which had so long been his anchor and his hope: memory the dark veil that so long hid this country and Mary loved him, perhaps, even more intense- from European eyes, has been rent asunder by a ly than in the height of her young imaginings; | few enterprising travellers, especially the lament

ed Burckhardt; and not Meroë alone, but a new usually are in the remote provínees; but Moharnworld of antiquities, has been opened to the re- med Ali has placed bounds to the rapacity of his searches of the learned. An astonishing succes-officers: the refusal of demanded presents would a sion of monuments, rivaling those of Egypt in few years ago have cost a traveller his property, grandeur and beauty, and surpassing them in age, if not his life, and an insult to a secretary would has appeared. The upper Nile was found thickly have provoked the bastinado or the bow-string; studded with temples, colossal statues, and ruined now, however, these worthy officials bear disapcities, up to Meroe, where a fresh range of pyra-pointment more calmly. mids appeared; the range, by its great antiquity, seeming to prove that, as the river in the course of ages washed down a fertile soil into the lower valley, civilisation followed to take possession of the alluvial formations, and gradually abandoned the countries that had been denuded by the continuous process. The road to Meroë was now open, but there were few travellers willing to en-affected by a pain in his chest when the weather was counter its dangers and difficulties; Mr. Hoskins, indeed, has proved that these were greatly overrated, but even his statement is sufficient to daunt an adventurer to whom "danger's self" is not "lure alone."

"The governor, an effendi, paid me a visit in my tent, and frankly asked me for several things which he saw, and fancied; which I as frankly refused. The visits of inferior Turks are always annoyances: it is very seldom that any information can be obtained from them, and their impertinence is without bounds. I was amused by his secretary, a Copt, who complained that he was cold. I gave him some flannel, which I could ill spare, also some medicine; and, with other advice, I told him most peremptorily, that he must drink no arracki (spirit). his master laughed heartily at an advice which he knew This last injunction disconcerted him exceedingly; and to be so unwelcome to his jovial secretary. I told him The primary object of our author was the illus- it would kill him. Well,' said he, if it kills me, maktration of the monuments: he has, aided by a toob min Allah! it is written, but drink I must.' In the clever Italian artist, delineated the most remark evening he came to me again, half intoxicated. As I able edifices, and with learning and clearness de-offered him no beverage, except coffee, he soon, with a scribed the sculptures and hieroglyphics; but he cunning smile and an expressive nod, pulled out of his has not neglected the living inhabitants of the pocket a small bottle of excellent arracki and a little cup. province; his observations on these once proud I did not wish to offend the fellow, having occasion to and independent tribes, now bowed down under leave some boxes in his charge until my return, and the iron sceptre of Mohammed Ali, are interest-therefore endured his company for some time. At last, ing in themselves, and valuable for the informa- and I was obliged to desire my servant to turn him out. his intoxication increasing, he was quite insupportable, tion they afford respecting the Turkish system of His good humour did not forsake him, nor did he scem provincial government. It will be convenient to at all offended; coolly observing, that he was sorry I was separate the personal and political portion of the tired of his company." narrative from the historical and descriptive; we shall first pay our respects to the enterprising traveller, and afterwards introduce the zealous antiquarian.

The tedium of the march through the desert was relieved by the songs of the camel-drivers, whose simple melodies are as celebrated in the East as those of the Venetian gondoliers in Europe.

Mr. Hoskins commences his narrative with his arrival at Assouan, the ancient Syene, once cele- "We should not have passed this plain so rapidly but brated for its commerce and its wealth. He for the common custom of the Arabs, before mentioned, passes lightly over this Egyptian city, which he of urging on their camels by singing: the effect is very promises to describe more fully, if the success of extraordinary; this musical excitement increases their his work on Ethiopia should be such as to induce pace at least one fourth. I often asked the camel drivers him to publish his "Notes on Egypt." The Nubi- to sing, not only to hasten our progress, but also for the en peasantry seem to be as miserable as the Egyp-pleasure of hearing their simple melodies. Some of their tian Fellahs; but, unlike that laborious race, their poverty is owing to their own indolence, rather than the oppression of their rulers.

best songs possess a plaintive sweetness that is almost as touching as the most exquisite European airs. The words are often beautiful, generally simple and natural, being im provisatory effusions. The following is a very imperfect "The inhabitants are evidently wretchedly poor; how-specimen. One takes up the song:-Ah, when shall I ever, they enjoy the luxury of idleness. Very few seem- see my family again; the rain has fallen, and made a ed engaged in any occupation. One woman I observed canal between me and my home. Oh, shall I never see spinning cotton, and two or three busy about their do- it more?' The reply to this and similar verses was mestic concerns; but the many were enjoying il dolce always made by the chorus, in words such as these:far niente of the Italians. They were almost all miseraOh, what pleasure, what delight, to see my family bly clad; the clothes of both sexes were in rags, the again; when I see my father, mother, brothers, sisters, 1 children naked, and girls from fourteen to sixteen, with will hoist a flag on the head of my camel for joy!' I beautiful forms, and extremely graceful and elegant in asked a fine, handsome lad, who was singing this ranz their movements, had merely a covering which extended des vaches of the desert with the feeling of a Swiss, if he from the waist to a little above the knee. This ceinture, would go with me to England, to my village. He asked or rat, as it is called in Arabic, is made of thin thongs of me how long I had been absent; I told him three years. hippopotamus hide, and fancifully ornamented with beadsNo,' said he, I cannot go with you; if I were to be and small shells. The number of thongs is so great, absent from my family three years, I should be very unthat it fully serves its purpose as a covering. They happy-I should be ill.'” wear it till they are married; an event, however, which often takes place before they are twelve years of age." At Korosko, Mr. Hoskins found the Turkish nor as avaricious as these functionaries

As Mr. Hoskins advanced southwards, he found ed, and a degree of freedom allowed to females the manners of the people become less restrainvery unusual in a Mahomedan country. At