the warrant for their exile, to the great joy of the envious courtiers. The victims beheld in the event only the manifestation of the Divine will, that they should propagate the faith among the followers of Mohammed. In a spirit | of Christian humility they declined receiving any other escort than that of a non-commissioned officer, whose duty should be only to see to their personal safety, and transmit their orders to the persons employed in the journey. Their departure produced a great sensation in St. Petersburgh; and every one was eager to see the distinguished ladies in their monastic costume. The court laughed, but the populace, always sensitive where religion is concerned, and who, besides, were losing a most generous protectress in Madame de Krudener, accompanied the pilgrims with great demonstrations of respect and sorrow to the banks of the Neva, where they embarked on the sixth of September, 1822. stalled herself in her delightful villa on the coast. Throwing off forever the coarse béguine robe, she adopted a no less eccentric costume, which she retained until her death. It was an Amazonian petticoat, with a cloth vest of a male cut. A Polish cap trimmed with fur completed her attire, that accorded well with the original character of the Princess. It is in this dress she is represented in several portraits still to be seen in her villa at Koreis. "The caustic wit that led to her disgrace at the court of St. Petersburgh, her stately manners, her name, her prodigious memory, and immense fortune, quickly attracted round her all the notable persons in Southern Russia. Distinguished foreigners eagerly coveted the honor of being introduced to her, and she was soon at the head of a little court, over which she presided like a real sovereign. But being by nature very capricious, the freak sometimes seized her to shut herself up for whole months in total solitude. Although she relapsed into philosophical and Voltairean notions, the remembrance of Madame de Krudener inspired her with occasional fits of devotion that oddly contrasted with her usual habits. It was during one of these visitations that she erected a colossal cross on one of the hights commanding Koreis. The cross being gilded, is visible to a great distance. "Her death in 1839 left a void in Russian society which will not easily be filled. Reared in the school of the eighteenth century, well-versed in the literature and the arts of France, speaking the language with an entire command of all that light, playful raillery that made it so formidable of yore; having been a near observer of all the events and all the eminent men of the Empire; possessing, moreover, a power of apprehension and discernment that gave equal variety and point to her conversation; a man in mind and variety of knowledge, a woman in grace and frivolity; the Princess Galitzin belonged by her brilliant qualities and her charming faults to a class that is day by day becoming extinct. "The apparition of these ladies in the Crimea threw the whole peninsula into commotion. Eager to make proselytes, they were seen toiling in their béguine costume, with the cross and the Gospel in their hands, over mountains and valleys, exploring Tatar villages, and even carrying their enthusiasm to the strange length of preaching in the open air to the amazed and puzzled Mussulmans. But as the English con. sul had predicted, in spite of their mystic fervor, their persuasive voices, and the originality of their enterprise, our heroines effected few conversions. They only succeeded in making themselves thoroughly ridiculous, not only in the eyes of the Tatars, but in those also of the Russian nobles of the vicinity, who instead of seconding their efforts, or at least giving them credit for their good intentions, regarded them only as feather-witted illuminata, capable at most of catechising little children. The police, too, always prompt to take alarm, and having besides received special instructions respecting these ladies, soon threw impediments in the way of all their efforts, so that two months had scarcely elapsed before they were obliged "Now that conversation is quite dethroned in to give up their roving ways, their preachings, France, and exists only in some few salons of and all the fine dreams they had indulged dur-Europe, it is hard to conceive the influence foring their long and painful journey. It was a sore mortification to them to renounce the hope of planting a new Thebaid in the mountains of the Crimea. Madame de Krudener could not endure the loss of her illusions; her health, already impaired by many years of an ascetic life, declined rapidly, and within a year from the time of her arrival in the peninsula, there remained no hope of saving her life. She died in 1823, in the arms of her daughter, the Baroness Berckheim, who had been for some years resident on the southern coast, and became possessed of many documents on the latter part of a life so rich in romantic events; but unfortunately these documents are not destined to see the light. "Princess Galitzin, whose religious sentiments were perhaps less sincere, thought no more of making conversions after she had in merly exercised by women of talent. Those of our day, more ambitious of obtaining celebrity through the press than of reigning over a social circle, guard the treasures of their imagination and intellect with an anxious reserve that can not but prove a real detriment to society. To write feuilletons, romances, and poetry, is all very well; but to preside over a drawing-room, like the women of the eighteenth century, has also its merit. But we must not blame the female sex alone for the loss of that supremacy which once belonged to French society. The men of the present day, more serious than their predecessors, more occupied with positive, palpable interests, seem to look with cold disdain on what but lately commanded their warmest admiration." The so-called Countess Guacher, who shared the exile of Princess Galitzin and | branded on the Place de Grêve as an acof Madame de Krudener, and who died complice in the scandalous affair of the in obscurity in 1823, was the Countess de Diamond Necklace. Lamothe, who had been whipped and IN one of the Sikh battles a British regiment, through contradictory orders, found itself unsupported in front of the enemy's fire, and, for the first time, turned right about face on the enemy. In ancient times the god Pan was supposed to be the inspirer of this sudden and useful diversion in the enemies' lines. The Goat-god, who had frightened his mother into fits by his ungainly and capricious movements as an infant, and who had been taken up to Olympus by his father, Mercury, to amuse the celestials by his dancing to the music of his own Pandean pipes, afterward set up as a hunter on his own account in the woods of Arcady. Here, by his quick sight and lusty halloo, he became the terror of the forest-a kind of god-gorilla, whose howl would scare away bears and tigers as unaccountably as Orpheus charmed them. The next we hear of Pan is in the train of Bacchus, when that mythical god opened the way to the conquest of India, in which Alexander, in historical times, followed in his steps. Pan was evidently the trum peter of the expedition, and blew such blatant and horrible blasts of sound, that the Argunas and Krishnas of India stopped their ears, and ran from it as the beasts had done in Arcady. Whether the sound he produced was that of a steam-whistle or of a steam-drum, legend does not say. Jullien, the father of monster concerts and the inventor, we believe, of one of these ear-tormentors, was, no doubt, one of the progeny of Pan. Perillus, of the brazen bull celebrity, was another, and the Chi nese, who drive their prisoners mad by the gong reverberating in their ears louder than the loudest thunder, are also emissaries of the wicked Goat-god, who should be sent to join him in the Pandemonium, where "the noise of drums and timbrels loud " is mixed "with parents' tears and children's cries that pass through fire" to Moloch. This In grateful memory of Pan's assistance at the battle of Marathon, the Athenians erected a temple to his honor. The first of those panics with which Asiatic armies have so often been seized in presence of European, was that recorded by Herodotus, when the Persians and Greeks met on the plain of Marathon. Herodotus shall tell the story in his own picturesque words: "While the generals were yet in the city, they dispatched a herald to Sparta, one Phidippides, an Athenian, who was a courier by profession, and who attended to this very business. Phidippides, as he afterward told the story to the Athenians, was met by Pan near Mount Parthenion, above Tegea; and Pan, calling out the name of Phidippides, bade him ask the Athenians why they paid no attention to him, who was well inclined to the Athenians, and had often been useful to them, and would be so hereafter. The Athenians, therefore, as their affairs were then in a prosperous condition, believed that this was true, and erected a temple to Pan beneath the Acropolis, and in consequence of that message they propitiate Pan with yearly Herodotus, vi. ch. 105. * hazard less. In such a lottery as this, the boldest may hold his breath, as the ball whizzes in the roulette of battle, and fortune hangs in suspense between the combatants. That men are not afraid while the battle is raging around them, and comrades falling fast on all sides, is very true; but that is not because they are too brave not to know what fear means, which is only an absurd way of saying that they are too irrational to know what their danger is; but because a passive emotion of fear is incompatible with the active exertion required of head, legs, and arms. The commander-in-chief has to think, and the full private to act during action, and both thinking and acting are states which put an end, for the time present, of the sympathatic emotions. The surgeon am sacrifices and the torch race." To this intervention of Pan, among other causes (for Herodotus is at the half-way state of belief between supernatural and natural causation, and does not directly bring the gods into the field of battle as Homer, or altogether pass by their interposition, as Thucydides) the great success at Marathon is attributed. Pan, according to Herodotus, changed sides on that event ful day for Greece and Europe. The Athenians, he says, on that day charged the Medians at full speed, and that, too, unsupported by cavalry and archers. This the barbarians ascribed to madness, for until that time the very name of the Medes was a terror to the Greeks. It is evident from this hint, (and it is only a hint which Herodotus furnishes,) that the result of Marathon was mainly attri-putating a patient's limb is conscious of buted to a panic. For the first time the Medians met their match, and as at school all bullies are cowards, so in battle. Instead of inspiring terror in the Greeks, the headlong attack of the Greeks struck them with terror. It was the weaker animal brought to bay, and driving back the stronger, as a horse bas before now staggered a tiger, and sent him reeling back to his den by a well-directed kick in the head. A battle is after all only a pummelingmatch on a large scale; the side which can best stand being beaten has the best chance of beating. "Fears of the brave and follies of the wise;" who has not read and commented on this sonorous couplet? It is an epitome of the art of war. We would not say that the general that is most brave will win the day, but he that fears least; nor is the distinction a mere trifling about words. The normal state of two armies marching to battle is the state of fear; the general is trembling for his reputation, the drummer-boy for the lass that he left behind, and the lips he kissed so fondly when drawn for a conscript a few days before. To all that mighty host there is the awful alternative, death or victory; it may not be a peerage or Westminster Abbey to all, but the prize is proportioned to the stake. The commander-in-chief stakes his all on the issue and so does the drummer boy. The one can not hazard more than life and honor, the other can not nothing but the operation itself. If he were to give way for an instant he would be unnerved and unmanned. During the trying quarter of an hour, he is a being of pure intellect devoid of feeling or emotion of any kind. And unless he were capable of that act of pure abstraction, unless he could put his understanding under an exhausted receiver, and work it for the time in vacuo, he might give up surgery and had better adopt the study of some of the fine arts instead. This is why many excellent and able men have been unable to qualify themselves for the profession of a surgeon. They were unable to master their passive emotions in the operatingroom; their nerves were too fine-strung, and consequently their intellect never had fair play; they could never rise to the perception of the beauty of an operation, and forget the screams and suffering of the patient. A surgeon is not heartless, as some suppose, because he forgets the one class of emotions, and can even induce a new train of emotions. If the patient were a dear relative, he would not attempt the operation, because he could not trust his resolution. A look might unnerve him, and the more the feelings are compressed the greater their gush when once the self-command is lost, and like waters breaking through a dam they sweep all before them. To apply these remarks to a field of battle. Men there screw their courage to the sticking place. They do not talk nonsense about not knowing what fear means, but like Macbeth, they can do all that does become a man, who dares do more is none. Sir Alexander Ball, than whom | the cause was not more inadequate to the a braver man never walked the quarter-effect in the one case than in the other. deck, confessed, that when as a boy he To what, then, are we to attribute the was put into the ship's launch on a cut- terror of the Midianites but to a night ting-out expedition, he felt the tears rise surprise from a small body of men rushin his eyes, and he would have given ing down on them from a hight? Every worlds to choke down his emotions. But measure of Gideon's was well calculated a kind word from an old boatswain soon to strike a panic into the multitude which set him all right again, and once the first lay in the valley like grasshoppers. The natural gush of fear was got under he flashing of lights, the crash of broken felt no more return of it, and got on in pitchers, the trumpet to the lips, the action as well as the oldest seaman. This sword in the hand: here were four eleis the real state of armies going into ac- ments of terror, any one of which would tion; at first the strong sense of danger have been sufficient by itself. The superis uppermost in their minds, but as soon stitious multitude, no doubt, at once supas this is conquered by the sense of duty, posed them to be so many avenging anthere is then no return of these qualms, gels-the gods of the land come down to unless, as sometimes happens, the army take up the cause of Israel. "Fear," says finds itself in a trap, or a cul-de-sac, with the wise man, "is a betrayal of the succannon on all sides, and then the sensa- cors which reason offereth ;" and so untion of fear returns with overwhelming reasoning is this instinct of fear that it strength in proportion as it has been kept strikes at friend and foe alike. There is under so long. something infectious in the presence of numbers for good or evil. Men back each other up shoulder to shoulder if they have only the resolution to stand. As on Flodden field Thus we have given first the theological explanation of panics to which the Father of History alludes, not in the hearty believing way that old Homer would have told of a divine interposition of Pan" on the side of the Greeks at Marathon. As gallantly and well." Then we passed on to the metaphysical account of the same. Now we give the positive side of the same subject, and narrates some of the great panics of war. Groom fought like noble, squire like knight, And, on the other hand, a bad example works like leaven among troops, and a re treat often ends in a run because of an alarm raised by a few cowardly fellows in the rear. The march of Bacchus from Greece to India is undoubtedly mythical; that of Alexander of Macedon is undoubtedly historical. Whatever we may say of the first irruption of Pan into Asia, it is quite certain that the god of terror raised his shaggy head from the midst of the Macedonian phalanx, and shook the Persians from their ranks and Darius from his throne. It is unaccountable how half a million of men could stand up to fight a pitched battle with fifteen or twenty thou sand soldiers without running away at the first alarm. The Persians stood in their own way. It was like King Cambyses and his host overwhelmed in a sand It was a panic when Gideon's handful of men, with pitchers and lamps, fell on the host of Midian and smote them, as they lay along in the valley "like grasshoppers for multitude, and their camels were without number, as the sand by the sea-side, for multitude." A Midianite, we are told, dreamed a dream, and lo, a cake of barley-bread tumbled into the host of Midian, and came into a tent and smote it, that it fell and overturned it that the tent lay along. Mr. Thompson, the ingenious author of the Land and the Book, has thrown great light on the dream by referring us to a proverbial expression, still in use in Palestine. Barley-bread being eaten only by the very poor, it was very natural to dream of an attack from one of the oppressed Israelites under the figure of a cake of barley-bread. Bear- "Man mounts on man, on camels camels rush.” ing in mind, moreover, the almost precipitous hights which overhang the valley in which the Midianites were encamped, the sudden irruption of Gideon and his armed men was as like the tumbling of a cake of bread on the roof of a tent, and storm: Two or three such victories as those of the Granicus and Arbela must have satisfied Alexander of this sheep-slaying. He must have doubted his own sanity at last, like Ajax furens among the flocks. The panics of the Persians recoiled on their conqueror. Conquest came so easy to him that he went mad for blood, and at last turned his sword against his own generals and favorites for want of fresh Dariuses to pursue, and more Persias to overrun. In the wars of the Romans panics were unknown, for every legion was an army complete in itself, which marched under its own commander, and encamped on its own ground. It expected no supports, and therefore never trusted itself in dan ger without knowing its own strength, and the strength of the enemy. Armies are broken either when the commander of ten thousand finds himself confronted by twenty thousand, and halts, wavers, and is thrown back in confusion; or, when through want of generalship, the men come up in driblets, and regiments play at cross-purposes leading to very crooked issues under fire. At Meeanee, for instance, Sir Charles Napier found himself with two thousand men on the crest of a hill face to face with twenty thousand Beloochees. To waver was to be lost, and so putting a bold front on the matter, Sir Charles went in for it and won. On the other hand, for an example of what would strike a panic into any ariny but the British, take Balaklava, or the attack on the Redan in June. C'est magnifique mais ce n'est pas la guerre, is a well-remembered comment on the ride of the Six Hundred down the valley of the shadow of death up to the Russian guns. There is no disguising the truth that this is not the way that victories are won. Lions were led on by asses, and if a wrong attack did not end in a rout and a panic, it was only because British soldiers are unlike any other, and do not know when they are beaten. A panic was next to impossible in a Roman army, from the very composition of the force. It was an exercitus, a body so called from its constant habit of drill. Discipline was their disciplina, the study to which the Roman gave his mind and strength, as the Greek to rhetoric and philosophy; their camps were cities or the germs of them, and their colonies bodies of old pensioners who held the lands of the enemy on military tenure. To this day our Winchesters, Rochesters, Porchesters, Dorchesters, recall the name of the ancient castra, the strongholds of Roman power in Britain. A military spirit like this is the true preservative against the panics which naturally spring up when bodies of men suddenly find themselves at death's door. How shall one chase a thousand and two put ten thousand to flight, except, in the language of Scripture, their Rock had sold them, and they had lost all faith in each other as well as in God? It is easy to see that the imagery is Asiatic, for in Asia only do these disgraceful effects of fear occur on so large a scale. It is only there that undisciplined multitudes are drawn into the field of battle, to be swept away, like the pawns on the chessboard, when the queen and castle are gone. During the middle ages panics were common enough among the hasty levies which were summoned to go to the campaign with the lord of the soil. The knights and their retainers were of course disciplined men, but the bowmen and pikemen were drawn from the cart and the plow, and stood their ground bravely enough, as long as they were supported, but when once the men in armor gave way, then this ill-armed yeomanry became a rabble-rout, and saved themselves as they best could by flight. The wars of knights in armor against knights in armor were over; the battlefield was no longer a tilting-ground, where a few noble warriors of the pure sangre azul decided the fate of the day by their individual prowess. The age of chivalry went out in a blaze of triumph on the Field of the Cloth of Gold, and in a burst of shame after the Battle of the Spurs. We could not write on panics and pass over that strange escapade of chivalry, that galloping-match from death, that Tam O'Shanter ride of the French. In July, 1513, the English landed at Calais, and being joined by the Emperor, the united army, numbering thirty thousand men, laid siege to Terouenne, upon which the Duke of Longueville marched to its relief, and was totally defeated. This battle, fought on the 18th of August, near Enguinegatte, was called the Battle of the Spurs, because the French used their spurs more than their swords. It was the battle of veni, vici only, for the French were only like the snow-fall on the river, a moment seen then gone forever. It was General Bem's laconic report of a victory over the Austrians in 1848. Bem Bom Bam-Bem came and conquered. The fifteenth century still retained so |