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    ever conquered more g y they now . Every sing p me a 'hermopy laj , for the combatants fought no longer for victory , but for death . On every eck the captains , the officers , the gunners , fell successively at their posts , and left nothing ) the English but lifeless bodies and enormous funeral piles . Admiral Brueys , severely rounded by an earl y discbarge of grape-shot , remained erect on the poop of his flag-ship , lio Orient , surrounded by the remains of Iris staff , and invoking death to cover his mis-> rtune . A cannon-ball from the Vanguard cut him in two ; still with his dying hands he pposcd the action , of those who would have carried him below . ' No ! no 1 ' exclaimed lie , a French admiral ought to die upon his quarter-deck . ' His flag-captain , Casa-Bianca , fell moment alter on the body of his chief . The Orient , deprived of her commander , still rag ht as if of her own accord . Nelson fell , wonnded in the head by a splinter ; the blood overed bis face , and the skin of his forehead falling over his remaining eye , plunged him i total darkness , which for a moment he conceived to be the harbinger of death . " Confident of the victory , but believing his hurt to be mortal , he summoned the chaplain f the Vanguard , and charged him to deliver his last remembrances to his family . A

    loment of terrible and anxious silence pervaded the ship while the surgeon probed tlie round . A cry of joy burst from every mouth when they declared that it was only superciaJ , and that the conqueror would be preserved to his country . Night had fallen for bout three hours , but was unheeded in the fury of the combat and the reflected light of the iiinonading . The IVench ships were silenced , one by one , for want of hands to man the ana . They drifted from their cables towards the shore , or foundered on the rocks . The Irient , in flames above , still fired from her lower decks , ready to be consumed in the imending conflagration , hastened and excited by the freshening of the night breeze . The Dglish ships ceased to respond , and retired to a distance to escape the vortex of the inritablo explosion . Captain Dupetit-Thouars , commanding the Tonnant , never slackened is fire for a moment at sight of this disaster . He no longer fought for glory or life , but ir immortality . One arm carried off by a cannon-shot and both legs broken by grape , he illed upon his crew to swear never to strike his flag , and to throw his body ovecLoard , that ren his remains might not become captive to the English . The Tonnant , as well as the rank ! in , covered with the bodies of their officers , became , in a short time , little better than

    Dating corpses . " The increasing flames of the Orient served to light the entire bay , covered with the lies of battle . The sailors of this vessel filing themselves from the port-. holes into the sea , id clung to broken masts and yardsy in the hope of floating on shore . They implored leir commandant , Casa-Bianca , who was covered with wounds , to allow them to save him . ' nether he was unable to move his shattered limbs , or was stoically determined not to irvive the loss of his ship , Casa-Bianca rejected their entreaties . They wished at least to ¦ eserve his son , a noble youth of twelve years old , who had been induced , by affection , ' for s father , to embark witfi him . The brave boy , embracing the body of his parent , resisted leir prayers and efforts , and preferred death in the arms of him who had given him life . " The catastrophe , which now approached rapidly , compelled the generous sailors to leave e melancholy group . The Orient blew up at eleven o ' clock , with aa explosion which ade the land of Egypt tremble to Bosetta , and with a burst of flame that long illuminated e surrounding horizon . Her . masts , spars , rigging , timbers , and cannon , fell down in a

    orm of tire into the bay , like fragments from heaven , bursting in a counter-blow amongst e human combatants . The rising sun discovered nothing in the bay of Aboukir but the ills of stranded or burning vessels scattered at the mercy of the heaving swelL The fleet ' Nelson himself dismasted , and almost without sails , could with difficulty move away from ie scene of action . Two of his ships , which had sustained little damage , secured the > oils of the night . Several French captains ran their vessels ashore , and burnt them , to event their falling into the hands of the conquerors . The French army , from that ntoent , became prisoners in the Egypt they had conquered , The subsequent capitulation of tat army may be considered the second victory of Nelson . Fortune refused to give all to single nation . To > one she assigned the land , to the other the sea . " This victory of Nelson is admitted by the French historians who witnessed it to have jen the most complete that had ever been won at sea since the invention of gunpowder , [ e was indebted to it for his bold attack , and the immobility of the fleet of Brueys . The eroic defence of that fleet at anchor shows how thev vroufd have fou < rht had thev been eroic defence of that fleet at anchor shows how they would have fought had they been

    nder sail . They were not beaten , but immolated ; in their sacrifice they bore with them » ousands of their enemies , and obtained for tlie French iiavy respect equivalent to the glory f victory . " While touching on this question of vanity , we may quote a passage in ae notice of Cicero , among whose failings vainglory occupied , it is said , tie prominent place : — " Vanity was one of the virtues of great men at this period , when a religion , more mnganimous and more free from human follies , had not yet taught that abnegation of self , lodcsty , and humility , which take away from us earthly fume , but render us more than an ] uivalent in the mute satisfaction of conscience , or in the approbation of God . " An essay might be written on that text , arguing , first , that Vanity -was a Virtue in ancient times , because Manhood was the Ideal beyond which ^ none spired ; secondly , that although Religion preached the virtue of Humility , ; has preached in the desert : virtue or vice , men show no diminution of ainglory in the Christian era ; and , thirdly , if vanity forms an integral ortion of our nature , uncontrollable by Heligion , and impelling us to higher inis , the question would arise whether , on the whole , Religion did not omuiit a profound mistake in calling it a vice ?

    Ancient or modern , virtue or vice , we will back the vanity of Laniartine gainst that of Cicero , and without shrinking from c giving the odds . ' Yes , ir , and you , too , have a vanity as colossal as Lamartine ' s though not quite o superb in ita pedestal ! Lainartino has often been irritated by the absurd objection that because ie is a poet lie should bo nothing else j and In- hia biography of Cicero he eizes the occasion to plead indirectly his own cause :- — " No form of government was so well fitted as the Roman Republic to develop tlioso erfect men , the type of which we have just described in the greatest orator of Homo . That opuration of ( faculties , and those professional limitations which decompose a man iato ructions , and lesson him in the process of subdivision , had not yet been invented . People id not aay , Hero is a civilian , there is ix soldier , this man is a poet , that mnn is an orator , ero is a lawyer , thoro is a statesman ;—you might bo all these at once , if Nature and ducation had fitted you for it . It was not then the fashion to cut up Nuturo into arbitrary ortions , as we u nfortunately do now , to the great detriment of u particular country , and of ho human race at largo . They did not impose upon God a maximum of faoultios , which not to in

    o waa overstep creating an intellect moro universal , or a soul grantor , than common . ) iwsar ploudod onuses , mudo vorsea , wrote his Anti-Cuto , and conquered the Gauls . Cicero iTOto poems nnd treatises on rhetoric , advocated nt tha bur , harangued the citizens from ho tribune , discussed public business in the uonato , collected taxes in Sicily , commanded nnius in Syria , studied philosophy with tho tjcholms , and kept a school of litoniluro at . ' uHculmn . It was not tho profession , but tho talent .- ) , that mmlo tho mnn , and lie became ho greater as lie was tho moro universal : and this is tho cause of tUe superiority of tho orsatilo geniuses of antiquity . Wlmn wo , butter advised than ait present , nlmll endeavour o omulatu thoir proatuesB , wo must llraL avveop away tho jealous iuiu arbitrary bnrrium Unit ur modern civilisution interposes between tho faculties of Nature and tho services that a itizen can render in various modes to bta country . Wo nhall no lonjjor forbid a philosopher 0 bo a politician , a mngtalrntu to bo n hero , nn orator to bo a Bold tar , a pout to bo a kuj ^ or 1 loclslutor . \ W ) ahull then nuiko men , wul no longer human machines . Tho modern vorld ¦ will bo all tho atrongor nnd tho moro buauliful for tho change , and tho moro conyrmublo to tho plan of God , who did not intend man for a fragment , but for a whole . " We may return to these volumes for a few more extract h and desultory remarks ; wo are disposed to commend them as readable and profitable for Jio young , agreeable *»*<* suggestive for tho old .

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    As to operatic matters this week , we have only to record that Grisi has appeared in the Huguenots and in Don Pasquale . The night of hex * farewell is drawing inexorably nearer . Our last chances of seeing the greatest actress and singer of our timo , may now be numbered by fewer figures than we have the heart to set down . At the St . James ' s Tueathi : Mario Cabel has boon singing and acting delightfully in the Fille du Regiment . But Donizetti ' s music is hardly adapted to display all her resources . She is essentially French , in face , manner , mid voice , and will not be able to do herself justice before her audience , until she appears in the best French comedies sot to the best French music . The operas of Scribe and Aubor are tho operas we Avant to see her in . After an incomprehensible and most injudicious delay , La Siritie is announced for to-night—to be followed , we hope , by tho Domino Noir , and the JJiamans dc la Couromw . " With tho . se operas we believe tho success of the season may be yet assured ; provided always that tho mule resources of tho company can bo found to supply one or two goutlemon who arc capable of singing and acting respectably . W .

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    THE COURIER OF LYONS . In the present state of the Drama , the audiences at' theatres seem to be limited to a choice between plays of two very opposite kinds . They may have a play with great literary ability and small dramatic interest , or a play with small literary ability and great dramatic interest ; and they invariably prefer ( very wisely , aa we think } the latter species of stage entertainment . For years and years past the critics have been turning their backs on Melodrama , and the public have been opening their arms to it . We are not critics ( though we happen , just now , to be writing in a newspaper ) ; and we shout with the would rather

    public . We see The Wreck Ashore than any five act tragedy in blank verse that has been written in our time . We have the highest appreciation of morbid French Plays , because they keep us , during performance , in the most breathless state of excitetae » t-a » d interest ; and we hare the most unmitigated dislike of the " healthy" National Drama , because it wearies us past all endurance . This is very likely a state of feeling which is " unwholesome" according to ci'itical rules—but we don't go to the theatre to conform to rules or to pay homage to critics . When we take our places to see a play of " serious interest , " the dramatist who can make his audiences' flesh creep is the dramatist for our money .

    Having made this confession of heresy , we shall not be suspected of writing with any " sterling" or " healthy ' " prejudices , when we set it down as our opinion that The Courier ot Lyons is the weakest of the plays from the French , produced by Mr . Charles Kean at the Princess ' s Theatre . It is interesting of course : it has admirably dramatic scenes ; it excites in many places great suspense—but it is not to be mentioned in the same breath with the Coraican Brothers , or Pauline .. In both those excellent plays the story reached its climax of interest , as ail dramatic stories should , in the last act . In the Courier oj Lyons the last act is the worst . It is confused and unnatural : the incidents seem to be huddled together , and . the denouementI is too suddenly precipitated on the audience .

    The plot is made out of the famous French trial of Lesurques , who had the misfortune to be exactly Eke a scoundrel guilty of robbing and murdering the Lyons Courier , and who was condemned and executed for his supposed crime before the fatal resemblance was discovered . In the English , adaptation , the innocent man is of course saved , just at the right moment . Mr . Charles Kean performs the two characters of the honest man and the villain , and effects the most incredibly rapid changes of costume behind the scenes . lie is hardly off the stage as the respectable Lesurques , before he is on it again as the scoundrelly Dubosc—everything being altered about him , except his voice , which he seems to be quite incapable of changing -with the change of character . With this drawback , he acted cleverly but unequally throughout the piece . In some scenes he was quiet and natural ; in others

    artificial and conventional—but in all , he was comniendably free from even a tendency to rant . Mr . Addison , as the villanous horse-dealer , deserves the highest praise . His make-up was perfect ; and his acting so excellent , as to give him , in our opinion , quite a new position in his profession . Miss Kate Terry also deserves a word of approval for a very fresh and natural performance of a servant boy at an inn . Mr . Graham , on the other hand , appeared to us to be the worst actor of an old man ' s part that we have ever seen onthe stage ; and Mr . David Fisher , who seems to be a favourite with the audience , struck us as being nothing better than a bad and barefaced imitator of Mr . Wright . The getting-up of the play was excellent throughout ; the stage business being managed , especially in the third act , -with the most admirable correctness and dramatic effect . While giving all due praise

    to the performance , we must , however , be permitted to add that certain circumstances in connexion with it , utterly perplexed us . " Could we really be in the Princess ' s Theatre ? " we asked ourselves , during the pauses between the acts of the play . " Could the Mr . Kean , who was now addressing that low dramatic taste of ours to which we have already confessed , by acting in a most uncompromising modern melo-drama translated from the French , be really the same Mr . Kean , - who once stood classically aloof on a Shakespearian pedestal ; whose great ambition it Avas , but a short time back , to familiarise the British public with Xiphilin , to awe the agricultural playgoer by the spectacle of Nineveh build , to make a taste for antiquities percolate into the pit , and a noble thirst for classic love rage to the utmost

    limits of the upper boxes ? Could the Mr . Kean who once tried to make our heada aclio with ancient learning , and the Mr . Kean who was now trying to make our flesh creep with modern French horrors , be one and the same man ? Could the Lorenzo de Medici of the learned drama have changed suddenly to the Barnum of the Boulevard du crime ?'—A puzzling question this . Perhaps the intelligent reader will bo bold * and obliging enough to answer it . Our own opinion is , that there is no such thing as a one and undivided Kean . He has been acting double so often of late years , that we believe he has at last—come in two . One half , in that ease , must now be at home , pondering over the cuneiform drama of the earliest post-diluvian poets , while the other half is acting at the Princess's Theatre in the melodramas of Modern France .

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    J loriouslthan submitted le shibeca uly 1 , 1854 . ] THE LEADER . 619

• Citation
  • Leader (1850-1860), July 1, 1854, page 619, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/l/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2045/page/19/