perly deserves the name of misanthropy. The former error may be termed misanthropical judgment. It is based on a narrowness of vision, or rather on a certain concentration of vision, upon one point, from which Some of the greatest thinkers have not been exempt. Descartes saw nothing but whirlwinds in the system of the universe; some great physicians have seen all diseases in the liquids, others in the solids, of the human frame. Great philosophers have explained all physical phenomena by innate ideas, others by the senses. Great divines have been equally partial to their own side, equally averse to acknowledging any truth as existing on the other side. Narrowness and exaggeration seem, in a great measure, to be the lot of the human mind. Why should great authors be exempt from extreme views? Their pursuits certainly predispose them to wide aspects of human nature, but in proportion to the energy of their thought and fancy, are they liable to see one point in stronger colours than the rest. Even in our comprehensive times, we are not so free from prejudice, partiality, obliquity of vision, as to be warranted in blaming or depreciating a great observer because he framed his theory of human nature on the facts which had most impressed his susceptible mind. If it be true, as Montaigne has it, that human fancy can conceive no stranger notion than has already been fostered by human speculation; if, therefore, as old Burton says, philosophers are mad; if, on the other hand, there is in human nature more of the fool than of the wise, and the popular mind is prone to entertaining vulgar errors, why should genius, which stands midway between philosophers and the vulgar, enlightening both, but drawing its materials from both-loftier than the common mind, more human and less pedantic than the philosophical mind-not meet with that toleration for its errors which sages claim, because of too much thought, and the multitude, because of too little thought? To look at the sun dims and jaundices the sight. Swift contemplated evil with an eagle glance; but, not withdrawing his eye in time, the result was that exaggerated sensitiveness to evil which the world has been pleased to construe into downright malice and fiendish hatred of mankind. Concerning the manner in which Gulliver considers evil, we shall only remark at present, that he investigates social phenomena in the moral point of view rather than the physical. TINTED SKETCHES IN MADEIRA. THE FLIGHT TO THE MOUNT. THE influx of strangers to Madeira increases year by year. Rich in valids seek its salubrious shores, because "its climate is the finest in the northern hemisphere; exceeding that of all other climates in steadiness of temperature from day to day; not being half so variable as either Rome, Nice, or Pisa, and only about one-third as variable as Naples." Men of science pay it flying visits, in order to test the theories of the astronomers, geologists, and naturalists who have preceded them, and to propound new ones. The children of genius come, trusting to find it the "nursing mother" of their beautiful imaginings. Travellers come with แ Note-book crowded full Of all its history and romance, To measure it with tape and rule;" And all come, filled with the expectation of having heart and mind taken possession of by its singular and unparalleled scenery, which has obtained for it the graceful titles of "Flower of the Ocean," and "Queen of the Atlantic." In visiting, however, the numerous places of interest and beauty in Madeira, there is no particular route or plan observed, though there are times and seasons when many of them may be seen to more than ordinary advantage. As an instance, I may mention Nossa Senhora do Monte, commonly called the Mount church. Visit this at any period of the year, and the magnificence of the view which it commands will repay even a pedestrian for the toil of ascending to it, leaving in his memory a possession of beauty for ever;" but visit it on any of the days intervening between the sixth and fifteenth of August, and those scenes which poets and painters in "no idle dreaming" have delineated, will present not only splendid and luxurious pictures set in the frame of "heaven's wide arch," but sparkling living illustrations of Madeira in its singular blending of social and religious life; in its festive gaiety of heart and costume; and in its wondrous adaptability to pleasure and idleness. It is the sixth of August, 1864, and the glorious sunshine is deepening the mellow tints of fields and gardens; diffusing a rich splendour over the golden groves, warming into a red glow the brown and orange dyes of the leafy woodlands, flashing in the noisy cascades, and illuminating the sea with bright shifting glances; while on the ambient air come thrilling strains from winged warblers, "linking our sense to music of the sky," and almost drowning in their full gushings the chimes which in merry peals are proclaiming from the belfry of the Mount church, that at noon the next day would commence the celebration of the festival, annually observed by the Madeirans in honour of the "Lady of the Mount." In a few seconds the pleasant peal, baffling the sweet notes of the feathered songsters, diffused itself like a silvery shower over the green hills with their wealth of tropical foliage and perfume; over the white city cradled in such sylvan beauty as "detains the enamoured sight;" reaching down to the beach, and away over the blue waves, to where a little forest of picturesque spars announced the presence of an unusual number of foreign vessels. Between these and the shore were lines of gaily painted boats, which during the morning had come in from the Desertas and Porto Santo, crowded with villao, or peasantry, in their brightest holiday attire, and each party being accompanied by a guitarette-player. Long before the clamorous bell had thus widely spread its message, there were hundreds of the natives, chiefly villao and vendadores, keenly listening for the first stroke disturbing the startled air, and which had no sooner reached them, than with glad footsteps keeping time to their heart's music, they went hastening towards the Mount. From the hamlets hidden in the purple mist floating over the central ridges of Pico Ruivo and Pico Grande they come in Indian file, now between precipitous ravines, and now having on one hand a white torrent rushing between steep banks, and on the other a perpendicular wall of rock, from whose craggy summit the beautiful wild goat looks wistfully down, as if half inclined to descend and dispute with them the right to use a pathway hardly affording a sufficient footing for himself. Still with fearless grace they continue to advance, secure in their supple strength and their sure firm step, each one carrying a burthen on either head or shoulders, and joining as carelessly in the chorus of the airs sustained by the guitarette-players, as do these groups following their own minstrels over the zig zag roads lower down, and of whom they catch occasional glimpses. Like those whom we first noticed, they too have their faces towards the Mount, and so also have the multitude coming up from the travessas and lanes of the city, driving before them strong oxen yoked to sledges, on which various articles of household furniture had been carefully piled; mules with bells suspended from their necks, and bearing heavy sacks of flour and vegetables, and patient donkeys laden with panniers of salted conger eel and tunny fish, the flesh of goats, and loaves of brown bread. Heavily, however, as the animals were burthened, it did not appear that they carried sufficient to satisfy the necessities of the motley crowd, each of whom appeared, gracefully balancing on his or her head, some picturesque load. The men, except those who drove the oxen, carried baskets filled up with either Valencia melons, or water melons, or huge bunches of unripe bananas, or quavas and pomegranates, or fresh fish. These latter, by the way, were in such astonishing varieties as could be met with only in Madeira; while in the exquisite shading of their lustrous scales and fins, they were more beautiful than the 64 Tinted Sketches in Madeira. Rainbow tinted shell which lies ease and plumes." Endeavouring to rival the men in strength and usefulness were boys carrying round hampers of limes, citrons, green and purple figs, custardapples, and grapes; while the women walked with beneath handsome wickerwork basand freedom kets heaped with plums, passion fruits, butter, eggs, and rich cakes made of fine flour, honey, and walnuts. Bustling and hurrying, laughing and singing, this picturesque concourse, increasing at each travessa, reached the Careiro, or Sackvillestreet, of Funshal; passing the clubhouse, where surprised and amused faces looked smilingly down on them; passing the college, where no one seemed to take any notice of them; and passing the barracks, where idle Portugese soldiers loitered to exchange jokes with the handsome maidens and graceful matrons. On still over the bridge which spans the torrent of Santa Luzia, and then by the shady road running along the left bank, rising higher and higher in picturesque curves through groves and gardens, where oranges, pears, limes, grapes, and cactus triangularis, with its transparent pulp, grow in paradisial luxuriance and perfection; where passion-fruit and raspberries are found garlanding the same cane; and potatoes and pine apple ripen side by side. Ascending still, they pass cottages where pumpkins are trained over arbours, and vines droop their luxuriant clusters round doors and windows; pass high walls enclosing the pleasure grounds of English wine merchants; pass corn fields fenced with trellised vines; pass rich and tastefully planted slopes where the feathery banana and brilliant coral tree are grouped with gigantic fuscias and graceful acacias; where noble plane trees stretch their green arms over pleasant rustic seats; and willows dip their branches into flashing currents, and see their inverted shadows trembling in the liquid mirror. On and up a little further went the brightly-dressed merry company, reaching at last the wide-spread grove of chesnut trees clothing the hill on which the "Mount church" stands, and then mingling 77 gaily and rolickingly with the crowds who had arrived before them, and who were busy erecting canvas tents, spreading fruits and meats, and and booths of green boughs, and wines, and pyramids of flowers, on tables constructed of doors laid on tressels; besides otherwise preparing for the refreshment and comfort of Mount next day, and during the those who were expected to visit the eight days of the feast. vity set by those who had first arrived The example of diligence and actiwas eagerly followed by those who had come up from the city, and long before the solemn glory of sunset had tinted "the skies with a thousand hues unknown to the daylight," the noise of business and bustle had given place to the dreamy sounds of guitarettes, the deep chorus of men's voices, the joyous strains of violins, the beat of feet on the fragrant sward and on the paved roads, as the assembled hundreds closed the day's labours and toil in "wildly rolicking" "Till in verriest Madness of mirth, as they dance, THE FESTIVAL. of the Flight" (as the 6th of August The morning succeeding the "Day is termed by the Madeirans) had just opened with a radiant eye on the broad world's silence and repose. The church of the "Lady of the Mount" was still lying half in shadow of the verdant curtain of chesnut trees and vinhaticos clothing the hill above and below it, and the summits of the mountain rising behind to a height of 4,000 feet (6,000 from the level of the sea) were yet enfolded in soft purple glories; while shadowy sides crept the lance-like golden rays, looking down into deep ravines, where dew-lit leaves breathed fragrant welcome; stealing to the shingly beds of winter torrents, and converting little summer streamlets into crystal threads; shooting wide over forests, groves, and gardens, mount circled by the tents and booths over the white church and the green of the multitude, still held in the spell of refreshing sleep; over the over its city lying calmly in alternate light and shadow; and over the sea which was all aglow, and trembling with delight. Such was the jubilant face which, like a thankful child, the island of Madeira turned up to the serene splendour of the vault bending over it, when the bells suddenly rang out a joyous summons to the sleepers to awake and come forth. The call was quickly responded to, and men and women in bright festive array soon appeared, completing the arrangements and adornments of the canvas tents, and of the "barracas,' as the booths of woven branches are called by the people of the island. The beauty of the interior of these leafy tents is indescribable, and the reader must therefore trust to his own imagination for a picture of one of them, formed of interlaced branches of palm, orange, lime, banana, vine, peach, and almond trees, the ripe fruit drooping inside, while the sunlight without, struggling to peep in, edges every leaf with gold. Amongst the natives, there is a tradition about these barracas, that the people were taught to erect them by Marié, the wife of Alvar the governor, in order that the Hebrews might not attract observation when holding the "Feast of Tabernacles" during the week in October, in which the Madeirans celebrate the vendemmia or vintage feast. Be this as it may, the appearance of a barraca both within and without, with only two exceptions, is Jewish. In its form it exactly resembles the booth which the Israelites were commanded to make and dwell in during the eight days of the "Feast of Tabernacles." It is similar also in the character of its simple furniture, the mattress serving as a bed by night and a seat by day; the few vessels of metal and earthenware; the bottles made of the skins of goats to hold the wine; the pitchers of classical shape, in which the women draw water from the spring; and the little lamp of oriental form which is kept burning day and night. Thus far, the resemblance is perfect; then come the exceptions. For the small image dressed in blue and silver, before which the perfumed oil feeds a weak flame, there is no similitude in the tabernacle of the Hebrew; nor are the sounds at the door, where thirsty customers buy or barter fruit and wines, like the sweet voices of praise and thanksgiving_ascending from the tent doors of the Israelites, and seeming to join "earth with heaven, and heaven with earth.” While some, as we have already said, are putting the last finishing touches to the tents, there are others spreading tables under the shade of chesnut trees, and heaping them with piles of alligator pears, near which they place small saucers containing a mixture of pepper and salt-the proper seasoning for this fruit-pyramids of peaches, plums, and mangoes; while from the lower branches of the trees they suspend dozens of round flat cakes, strung on a flaxen cord, like beads on a thread. Others, again, preside over tables where rows of little mugs, containing delicious Madeira-grown coffee, are flanked by huge platters of bread, interspersed with quaint-looking jars of quince marmalade and quava jelly, preserves for which the island is famous. Meanwhile, through all the bustle and amusement, time was passing noiselessly by, and the multitude were only reminded of his mute march by the din and clamour sent floating around on air-woven wings by the united efforts of gunners, bell-ringers, and trumpeters. This continued from seven o'clock till eight, when the rich harmonious music of a band succeeded, and immediately after, from the adro in front of the church, rockets and other fire-works were let off, looking dim and feeble in the golden glow of nature's day-spring, to announce to those far off and out at sea, what the noise of instruments had proclaimed to these near at hand-the beginning of the Festa do Monte. The church of Nossa Senhora do Monte is a conspicuous object at a distance of many miles from Madeira, owing both to its great elevation, and to the strong contrast between its white walls and the dark back ground already described. It is a large convent-like building, with square windows, and towers bordered with black. Near it is the residence of the priests, and the house occupied by the altereiro or verger, and the "Pilgrim's Home," in which strangers may lodge during the festival. In front of the church is a large square surrounded by a low wall and stone seats: this is called the adro, and is at all seasons, as well as during festas, the favourite lounge of the Madeirans. Looking over this wall, you see a handsome terrace, which is reached by a flight of basaltic steps, and below it the mount beautifully planted. During the days of the festival, the roads running round and through this are thronged with gailydressed people, eating and drinking, buying and selling, singing and dancing; while minstrels-including the performers on guitars, guitarettes, and violins-venders of toys and curiosities, children and beggars, mingle with every group, and add to the picturesque effect of the gipsy scene. Nor is the vast and motley assemblage composed of natives only. Foreign sailors, who have come up from the vessels anchored in the roads, are there in considerable numbers, looking confused by the strange sights and sounds around them, and bewildered by the dazzling appearance of the maidens in their bright dresses of striped cotton or marrapuja, their tightly-fitting scarlet bodices closed in front with thickly set rows of gold buttons; their rich, dark hair partially concealed by either scarlet or blue silk half handkerchiefs, called lenços, or perhaps by little squares of snowy white clear muslin, exquisitely embroidered; while their ears, necks, and fingers gleam with ornaments of pure gold, though in general of coarse workmanship. Foreign gentlemen are there too-Irish, English, and Scotch-some of whom gather in front of rudely constructed stalls, and make purchases of beautiful little baskets made from the heath plant, which here grows to the height of thirty feet; or chairs made from the same; or perhaps cigar-cases, or paper-cutters, or work-boxes of inlaid woods, on which the peasant-manufacturers of Madeira so happily display their imaginative skill, in the variety of elaborate designs and emblematic devices which they work out by the admixture of atoms of pine, orange, walnut, til, box, cypress, and chesnut trees; while others of the foreign party appear to vie with the impressionable seamen in their open admiration of peasant girls, famed all over the world for grace of movement and beauty of form; and if in feature they fall short, as a rule, of the classic delicacy of outline or colouring which one is led to expect from their sculptured forms, they possess at least a wealth of most attractive charms, in the abundance of their soft, dark, lustrous tresses, in their pearly teeth, and in their large dreamy eyes, with their quenchless light, like "diamonds in the dark." Elbowing this crowd are manchila men, displaying their active and athletic persons in wide, white, cotton breeches, yellow boots coming half way up the leg, blue or pink silk jackets, and straw hats with long flaunting ribbons. Lightly and gracefully these men bear on their shoulders pretty showy-looking hammocks, having silk curtains of various colours looped with either gold or silver cords. Within these recline ladies, chiefly the wives of rich vendadors, arrayed in damasks and brocades, wearing diamonds and amethysts set in the far-famed fillagree work of Pinto e Sousa, the fashionable Lisbon jeweller, and having on their proud heads little French bonnets, which serve at least the purpose of supporting a profusion of artificial flowers. As the day advanced the crowd increased, the whole island giving up its inhabitants, old and young, rich and poor, to the enjoyment of the festival. Shortly after 12 o'clock the hidalgoes began to arrive, displaying to the admiring eyes of the multitude from whom, except on the occasions of grand festas, they keep strictly aloof-that luxurious pomp, bespeaking at once both their affluence and their pride. Superbly dressed, though in colours somewhat too bright to suit the sombre taste of the people of other climes, and with "the waving grace of quivering plumes," the ladies ascended to the adro, escorted by crowds of cavaliers, and followed by numerous attendants, taking their seats in the established order of their rank. Then, after a short season of rest, they entered the church, sweeping through its long aisle to the altar, while the wives of the vendadors, and others who were already kneeling there, moved away with the quiet of trained habit. Distinctions both in rank and creed are nowhere more openly asserted than in Madeira, where the aristocracy guard their exclusive privileges |