were opposing the attempt. These latter had entered the steeple of the cathedral, and suddenly poured down a volley on the crowd below, by which several persons were killed and wounded: a dreadful yell now arose, and the armed men around me began to fire upon the National Guards in the church. As you may imagine, I tried to get away as fast as possible, but this was no easy matter, for I was hemmed in by the crowd; but at length I managed to get at some distance from the scene of action, when I came upon a regiment of Imperial soldiers, accompanied by artillery; upon this I rushed through the porte cochère of a house, and running up stairs to the first floor, with several other persons, who, like myself, were non-belligerents, I looked upon the fight that was taking place in the street below. The regular soldiers were soon put to flight, and several cannon captured by the National Guards, (not the yellow blacks,) the people and the students, or rather, as these latter term themselves, the Academic Legion. As I considered my quarters as anything but safe, I quitted the house during a temporary lull, and went off to a Viennese friend of mine, who lived in the Graben. This, however, was going out of the frying-pan into the fire, for shortly after my arrival a barricade was thrown up nearly opposite the house, which was attacked by some infantry and artillery. Soon afterwards a cannon-ball passed through one of the windows and buried itself in a mirror over the fire-place. Fortunately, no one was wounded by the pieces of broken glass. A few minutes afterwards the apartment was entered by a dozen armed men, chiefly students, one of whom, addressing us very briefly, exclaimed: "We have to apologize, gentlemen, for disturbing you, but we require the loan of this room to fire from," and, without more ado, the party proceeded to open the windows and fire from them upon the military. You must be certain that I was by no means desirous that the insurgents should gain the day, upon this occasion; but I must frankly confess that in this one instance, I did somewhat hope that the Imperialist soldiers might be repulsed from this quarter, for I felt assured that if the barricade below were taken, that the troops would enter the house and shoot every person in it, on account of the firing from the windows. My friend, who was a most loyal subject to his Emperor, evidently entertained the same fears as myself, so that we both awaited the result in great anxiety. The defenders of the barricade, however, not only held good their own, but actually drove the troops from their position, and gained possession of the artillery after some very sharp fighting.. Our unwelcome visitors then retired, having civilly thanked us for the use of the windows. Shortly after this affair, several persons called upon my friend, bearing, the lamentable news of the murder of Count Latour, the minister of war, who, after having been stabbed in many places, had been hanged up to a lamp-post opposite his own door, notwithstanding the efforts made by M. Smoka, one of the vice presidents of the Diet, to save the nobleman's life. It was a cold-blooded, ferocious deed, worthy of the demons that disgraced the first French Revolution. I had dined at Count Latour's only two days previous to his murder. As the fighting had ceased in the environs of the Graben, I ventured to return towards my hôtel. I came, however, almost immediately upon a picket of Imperialist troops; the soldiers of which, having arrested me, conducted me to their officer, who, on my informing him that I was an Englishman, and producing my carte de séjour, allowed me to proceed, and at about seven o'clock I reached my own quarters. The booming of cannon and the reports of musketry kept me awake all night; and at daylight, on my descending to the court-yard, the master of the hôtel informed me that the arsenal had capitulated after a severe struggle. On going out into the streets, I found barricades erected at almost every corner, which were being fortified by cannon. During the combat in the streets very few barricades had been raised, and the present ones were for the purposes of defending the city against any attack that might eventually be made, should the troops return. A good many dead bodies were lying about, one of which I recognized as that of a very handsome young officer of the Imperial Guard, whom I had frequently met in society. I must, in justice to the rebels, remark, that his corpse had not been plundered, although he wore several valuable rings on his fingers, and round his neck was a beautiful Maltese chain, to which was suspended a gold chronometer, by Barwise, of London. I assisted in carrying the body into an adjoining house. At ten in the morning the news arrived that the Emperor had fled from Schoenbrün, with his court and escort of four thousand cavalry, which was considered by the Viennese as an act of treachery on his part; as if they expected that his Majesty would quietly submit to their dictation, and surrender all his prerogatives, just because a handful of re *Schuselka is probably meant. Ed. Dag. bellious subjects chose to murder his minister | mind that the place could not hold out against of war, and get up a rebellion in his capital. Surely the Viennese might have contented themselves with the immense concessions already granted them by their generous sovereign, had they possessed the slightest feeling of gratitude. Anyhow, the garrison, consisting of ten thousand men, has quitted the capital, and here we are under the rule of an infuriated populace, whose power within the precincts of the city is unlimited. All respectable persons are naturally terror-struck. How all this will end, I know not; anyhow I will have no intention of quitting the place, as I consider it to be the best plan, in cases such as the present, to remain where one is. Those who quit Vienna at this moment, will in all probability find the country in a dreadful state of disturbance, and will run the risk of being plundered and murdered by roving parties. Even when the Imperial armies attack the capital, which they are certain to do, before long, should they regain possession of the city, foreigners will have nothing to fear, if they keep quiet and refrain from meddling with what does not concern them. Oct. 31. Since writing the above, we have been going through a series of events sufficient to satisfy the most ardent seeker after excitement; for my part, I have had a little too much of it, for it is by a miracle only that I am alive. You must have seen in the newspapers many accounts of what has occurred since the commencement of the insurrection. At this moment, thank heaven, Vienna is again in the power of its proper authorities, and good measures are being taken to ensure the preservation of order. During the first few days that followed the departure of the troops, matters within the city went on without much disturbance, and had it not been for the barricades which remained standing, and the constant parading of National Guards, the Academic Legion, and the armed populace, we should have scarcely imagined that we were in the midst of a besieged city. Contradictory accounts kept coming in. At one moment we were informed that the Hungarians had attacked Jellachich, and routed his army, while at other times it was asserted that the provinces were in open revolt, and were attacking General Windischgrätz. Every succeeding day, however, affairs became more serious, and the constant firing and booming of cannon proved I as to us that we were in the midst of war. cended St. Stephen's steeple several times, and could perceive the Imperial forces quartered around the city, and I felt assured in my such well disciplined troops. At length, the attack began in real earnest, a proclamation found its way to within the glacis, by which Windischgrätz declared that every one found carrying arms should be immediately shot by the Imperial troops. You may imagine my dismay, when a counter-proclamation was issued by M. Messenhauser, that every able-bodied man, whether foreign or native, who should refuse to take up arms and aid in the defence of Vienna should be immediately shot. Bitterly did I repent of my not having quitted Vienna on the outbreaking of the insurrection; for on the 29th, a band of armed men entered the Archduke Charles hôtel, and forced me and several other foreigners, among whom was a Dutch Quaker, to accompany them to Leopoldstädt, to assist in defending that Faubourg against the troops. On arriving there, we were compelled to fire from a barricade which was being attacked by a battalion of Grenadiers of the Guard. There was no use expostulating, for several infuriated insurgents in our rear levelled their muskets at our heads, and swore that they would blow out our brains should we make any attempt at escape. I remained for some time in the midst of the firing, and you may easily imagine the feelings of a peaceable man like myself, on finding himself in such a dreadful position. All around me appeared a dream, and I loaded and fired mechanically; my shot indeed could not have occasioned much damage. At length the barricade was carried, and the troops rushed forward, putting us to flight; I say us, for although with the troops in spirit, I was corporeally with the insurgents. It was a regular sauve qui peut, and I ran until I got among the ruins of a house that had been burned down and which were still smoking. I had not been long there before a company of Light Infantry passed by, following in the steps of the battalion by which the barricade had been taken. On perceiving their captain, I recognized him as a Baron de Lederer, with whom I had been many years acquainted. Darting from my hiding-place, I ran towards him, exclaiming, 'Lederer, my dear fellow, save me for the love of God," adding immediately afterwards, with a loud voice, in order to prevent the soldiers from firing at me, "Vive l'Empereur, Vive Windischgrätz." Notwithstanding these precautions I narrowly escaped being shot down, and would, indeed, certainly have had my body riddled with bullets, had not the Baron recognized me, and taken me under his protection. I marched with the company into the capital, over scenes of blood-shed and 66 horror, such as I fervently hope never to witness again. Thank God, I am at this moment comfortably housed at the "Archduke Charles," re covering from the effects of my fright and Bentley's Miscellany. MEMOIR OF ROBERT BLUM. In the Augarten, near Vienna, on the 9th November, was shot by order of the Imperial Commander, Prince Windischgrätz, ROBERT BLUM, of Leipzig, publisher, the leader of the decided party of freedom in the Frankfort Assembly. His execution has caused an extraordinary sensation throughout Germany, and has been the subject of discussion in the Assembly of National Representatives at Frankfort, of which he was a member. The following is the official account of Blum's execution, as given in the organ of the Austrian Government, the Vienna Gazette :-"In virtue of a sentence passed by martial law on the 8th instant, Robert Blum, publisher, of Leipzig, convicted on his own confession of speeches exciting to revolt, and of armed opposition to the Imperial troops, was, in virtue of a proclamation of Prince Windischgrätz, of the 20th and 23d October, condemned to death, and the execution thereof carried into effect at half-past seven o'clock on the morning of the 9th November, 1848, by powder and lead." His father was a laborer, engaged in loading and unloading vessels on the banks of the Rhine. He passed his earlier years at Cologne, assisting his father in his rude occupation. He afterwards obtained employment in the Cologne theatre-first, as cleaner of lamps, and subsequently as box-opener. Though extremely awkward and ugly, he seems to have given satisfaction in this situation, and, during the many years he filled it, he spent his few leisure moments in cultivating his mind. At Leipzig, where he had the same office at the theatre, and later that of ticket-seller, he began to increase his income by writing small essays. These were much read, and brought him acquainted with the numerous litteraten, or authors, who live at Leipzig, as the centre of the bookselling trade of Germany. From the attention which he gave to the pure idiom, as spoken on the stage, he lost the vulgarity of his native Cologne dialect, and this, added to his natural cloquence, soon gave him a great as cendency in the growing political agitation of Blum is stated to have been arrested in the the day. He now became the editor of various city hospital. He and his colleague, Froebel, political and semi-political almanacs, his own went with an address to the Diet of Vienna. articles in which attracted considerable atThere is no proof of his having joined in the tention. Ronge's neo-Catholicism was adopted resistance of the Viennese, further than having by him with the greatest ardor. His speeches been found lodged in one of the hotels. At inflamed the indifference of a great portion of six in the morning, on the day of his execution, the Leipzig Romanists, and he was considered he was informed of his sentence. He replied the natural leader whenever a political crisis that he expected it. A little before seven he approached. In 1843, when the Romanist arrived in an open van, with a guard of cuiras- tendencies of Prince John of Saxony had rensiers, in the Brigithenau. Both in the van, and dered him temporarily unpopular, and a riot during the fearful moments after leaving it, broke out in Leipzig, Blum gave a direction Blum's behaviour was manful and composed. to the whole, subdued the furious mob into Kneeling down, he tied the handkerchief over obedience to his will, and in the evening, resthis eyes with his own hands. He fell dead at ing from his dictatorship, was found selling the first discharge, two balls having entered his opera tickets, as usual. He married into a chest, and one his head. The body was con- family residing in Leipzig, and became a bookveyed to the military hospital. seller. The events of March, 1848, made him an active and indefatigable agitator from that time. His stentor-like voice, and the precision of his manner, rendered him a very popular vice-president in the famous Vorparlament at Frankfort, in the last days of that month, and his election at Leipzig was almost unanimous. In the German Parliament he was considered Robert Blum was one of the most extraordinary of the political characters which late events in Germany have brought into prominent notice. Fearless, eloquent and earnest, he was the architect of his own fortune, and became a popular leader, at a time, and during scenes, when to be so was dangerous in the extreme. by the Conservatives as one of the most dan- | gerous leaders, principally on account of his being a man of progress, and of his vast influence over the people. He was sent to Vienna, with four others, to represent the sympathies of the 120 who form the Radical party, for the popular movement in that capital -then in the hands of the Diet, and invested by the troops of Windischgrätz. Here his usual caution deserted him. According to all reports, his speeches were, without exception, of the wildest Jacobinical character. He stood prominent as a leader after the proclamation of the Prince, and he was the first sentenced to death. His execution is a gross breach of the law acknowledged throughout Germany, by which the persons of members of the German Parliament are safe until that assembly has granted permission for their prosecution. THE TOWN, ITS MEMORABLE CHARACTERS AND EVENTS.* "Here we go up, up, up, And here we go down, down, downy, This is almost the pleasantest of Leigh Hunt's many pleasant books. It is quite astonishing to contem plate the originality which he has the power of diffusing over subjects treated of by so many witers. The materials of such a work as this before us, are necessarily drawn from a thousand antiquarian writers, some of them the most leaden-headed of men, yet in the volumes there is not one dull page-not one chapter which does not carry the reader on to the end. It is a book which so enchains the attention, that it is absolutely difficult to lay it aside. In many of Mr. Hunt's works there are passages addressed to peculiarities of taste which could not be sympathized with by those living beyond the conventional wishes which were appealed to. The grotesque and the whimsical were, it would so seem, affected. We were not disposed to be reminded of Montaigne or of Addison, as often as our author wished to call them to our remembrance. Mr. Hunt, too, often seemed to be thinking, not of his subject, but of the way in which others would treat it. The reader was in earnest while his author seemed to be jesting, and this provoked momentary impatience. Still there was everywhere such exuberant good-nature, such fulness of heart, such a determination to be pleased with everything and everybody, that each successive work added to the number of Hunt's friends; for it is impossible to think of him as a stranger, whether it is so happens that his readers may have met him or not. For the last few years his publications, at least such of them as we have seen, have been for the most part reprints of his contributions to periodical works; and to this, in part, perhaps, is to be ascribed the feeling, that although he must now have as gray hairs as any of his critics, he yet seems a young man, and a young man he certainly is in heart and affections. It is not very easy to give an account of this book. We have said that Hunt's style, in some of his works, is not free from something which, however natural, is not unlikely to be regarded by readers unfamiliar with his manner, as affectation. From this fault, a serious one, and which has done much to restrict the number of his readers, these volumes are wholly free. Nothing can be more perfectly English than the style is throughout. A few phrases, differing by their colloquial plainness from the ordinary language of the printed books of the present period, tell occasionally of the old writers, among whose works his favorite studies seem to lie; but this occurs not half as much, nor, to our tastes, half as pedantically, as in the works of Southey. Hunt's is a graceful, natural style for the most part-resembling spoken, rather than written language. In short, the book is a cordial, chatty, winter fireside book. We do not so much walk through London with him, as listen to him telling of his walks. His sympathies are with the great men who have lived in London, rather than with London itself. The descriptions of buildings please us less than the associations of persons, often with the humblest lanes and thoroughfares; and Mr. Hunt's book is very rich in this sort of interest. The changes of manners from the earliest times to the period of which Mr. Hunt was personally a witness, are here very amusingly shown. If the book has a fault, and one must be almost a reviewer to find one, it is that the thread of association, which in this book unites topics most remote never passes a church without pulling off bis hat. This shows that he has good principles." "On this" (we quote Hunt), "says Boswell, in a note, I am inclined to think he was misinformed as to this circumstance. I own I am jealous for my worthy friend, Dr. John Campbell. For though Milton could, without remorse, absent himself from public worship, I cannot." Now Hunt, like Johnson, teaches us to sympathize with all-to think a man may be religious who goes to church, and another who stays away,-to feel that there may be a good deal of stern independence becoming a great man, in Penn refusing to take off his hat, or honor, with bonnet-worship, his father, the old admiral; and nevertheless imagine the old admiral by no means wrong in thinking this peculiarity of manners a very absurd one, and not the less absurd "for being elevated into theological importance." The Quaker, refusing to take off his hat in a court of justice, may, if judged of by the thoughts actuating him in resistance, be easily a more fitting subject of admiration than the beadle, who removes it from the refractory disputant's head. The latter, however, represents society seeking to maintain the decencies of life, and the value of Mr. Hunt's catholic taste is this, that he exhibits the inner principle, justifying each. Men are happier-men are better-men are more forbearing-more charitable to each other from each other, is their accidental connection with some London street. Men that you never have thought of are presented naturally enough together to the mind of one who knows London well, by the accident of having been born, or lived at intervals, perhaps of centuries-in the same locality; but to all persons who know little of the great Babel, this link of association is one that does not ever suggest itself; and hence the contrasts are often very abrupt. The execution of Lord Russell, for instance, prepares us but ill for an election promise of the Duke of Newcastle, and the extraordinary accident by which it was kept. A very affecting passage from "Burnet's History," and "Lady Russell's Letters," harmonize little with "a laughable and true story," connected with the Duke of Newcastle, told in a curious miscellany, entitled "The Lounger's Commonplace Book." These, however, if faults, are the faults of Mr. Hunt's subject, not his own; and we doubt, indeed, whether they are faults at all. "There are," says Goldsmith, "a hundred faults in this thing, and a hundred things might be said to prove them beauties." This was an author's preface to one of the most charming works ever written; we speak of the "Vicar of Wakefield," of which we never saw one of one hundred faults, till pointed out by criticism, and in spite of the criticism we forget them whenever we read the book, which we have done again and again, and which we shall do again and again. Yet how easy would it be to write a review of it, exhibiting its impossibilities and incongruities, and dealing with fiction as if it were fact, and as if the writer who had addressed the imagination were to weave his tale on the supposition that there "Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase,) was no such faculty in his reader-as if all Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, these difficulties which disturb the pedestrian And saw within the moonlight, in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, critic, were difficulties or interruption at all to An angel, writing in a book of gold: the winged faculty which overflies them alto- Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold; gether. We envy in Mr. Hunt the genial And to the presence, in the room, he said, sympathies which make him think of every- And with a look, made of all sweet accord, thing in its true human aspect, which make Answered, The names of those who love the Lord.' him see, even in the most vicious states of soci-And is mine one?' said Abou. Nay, not so,' ety, such good as is in them-finding man, after all, everywhere, not a devil, but a "damaged archangel." Of Johnson, surely, among the best things we know, is the tender judgment with which he regarded all error and all frailty -the defences which he perpetually made for his friends, whose outward acts were not exactly squared by conventional standards. Of this a hundred instances might be given. We take one from Boswell, with Mr. Hunt's comment on the biographer. "Campbell," said Johnson, "is a good man, a pious man. I am afraid he has not been in the inside of a church for many years; but he from the influence of such books as this. There is a pleasant poem of Leigh Hunt's, in which he gives us a little story, from D'Herbelot, which illustrates happily the train of thought which his present book suggests. We' may as well transcribe it : 'What writest thou?' The Vision raised its head, Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low, The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night blessed; And showed the names whom love of God had The volumes before us contain, with some new matter, a good deal that Mr. Hunt had, some thirteen years ago, published under the title of "The Streets of London," in successive monthly supplements to "Leigh Hunt's London Journal;" and the publishers, who it, seems, look for a more extensive work by the same author, have thought it desirable to re |