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"The women, who were very numerous, were like walking mummies. A large loose robe of dark green cloth covered them from the neck to the ground; over that was a large piece of muslin, which wrapped the shoulders and arms, and another which went over the head and eyes. All these coverings confound the shape and air so much, that any rank may be concealed under them. I never saw a country where the women may enjoy so much freedom and liberty as here, free from all reproach. A Turkish husband who sees a pair of slippers at the door of his harem, must not enter: his respect for the sex prevents him from intruding when a stranger is there on a visit : how easy, then, it is for men to pass and visit as women !”

In the course of her travels, Lady Craven becomes acquainted with the Margrave and Margravine of Anspach, at whose court she resided, by the advice of her mother, for some time. Her history of the proceedings and intrigues (political and otherwise) of this place is diverting in the extreme. Mademoiselle Clairon, the celebrated French actress, was the Margrave's mistress; her ascendancy was woefully shaken by the advent of Lady Craven; and her airs, graces, and expostulatory epistles, are detailed with considerable humour. Clairon was thorough French in every thing. She could reject one lover, or indulge another, with the same imperturbable ceremony. Every thing was to be done by her strictly according to " les règles.' A mysterious ghost story is also told about this lady, which cannot fail to be highly gratifying to the lovers of the marvellous.

On the death of Lord Craven, and of the first Margravine of Anspach, Lady Craven and the Margrave were married. The celebration of the wedding took place at Lisbon, in the presence of one hundred persons, and attended by all the English naval officers who were stationed on the spot. This marriage was a happy one. The husband and wife were devoted to each other: he appreciated her many excellencies, and she, with unwearied assiduity, exerted all her accomplishments to delight and soothe every hour of his existence. She read and sang to him, travelled with him, humoured his eccentricities, composed plays and acted in them; and was his enchantress alike in all!

The second volume of the Margravine's memoirs opens with a highly curious picture of Berlin, at the time of Frederick the Great; of whom the authoress gives a spirited sketch, including many original anecdotes. There is also an explanation of his conduct to Baron Trenck, and a very lively account of the philosophers and illuminati, who, in those days, made the city of Berlin their place of refuge. Among this body of persons, we are made, by the descriptions of the Margravine, intimately acquainted with Rosenfeld, Bardt, Eberhard, Edelmann, and others; the protected freedom of whose proceedings at this time, was without parallel in any age or country. This part of the memoirs is, therefore, rich beyond measure, in curious anecdotal matter. Of Voltaire, also, and of his singular habits, several stories are told, the greater part of them quite new.

It is impossible, in the review of a work which consists of two octavo volumes of curious reminiscences, to give the reader a complete abstract of its contents. All we can do, in our limits, is to furnish a specimen or two; and, under this impression, we must be brief in noticing the second volume. The following is a pleasant anecdote of Dr. Johnson:

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"One day, in a tête-à-tête, I asked him why he chose to do me the singular favour of sitting so often and taking his tea with me. 'I, who am an ignorant woman,' I said, and who, if I have any share of natural wit or sense, am so much afraid of you that my language and thoughts are locked up or fade away when I am about to speak to you.' He laughed very much at first, and then said, An ignorant woman! the little I have perceived in your conversation pleases me ;-and then, with a serious and almost religious emphasis, he added, I do like you!'-' And for what?' I said. He put his large hand upon my arm, and with an expression I shall never forget, he pressed it, and said, Because you are a good mother.' Heaven is my witness, I was more delighted at his saying this, than if he had praised me for my wit or manners, or any gift he might have perceived in me."

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Of Bonaparte and his first wife Josephine, our authoress tells some interesting stories; one of which, connected with the murder of the Duke d'Enghien, we cannot refrain from extracting:

"The stigma which has been attached to the conduct of Napoleon, with regard to the murder of the Duke d'Enghien, is entirely without foundation. The unfortunate duke was certainly condemned to die by the Emperor, but he wished to save his life, and have the credit of the pardon. He wrote the mandate to that effect, but the letter was intercepted by Talleyrand, and the unhappy duke fell a sacrifice. When the Emperor heard the intelligence, he was overwhelmed with grief; and so great was his despair, that he attempted to destroy himself. Josephine was obliged to have every instrument which could be used for such a purpose concealed from him, and his sword and pistols were removed from his sight. Her care and attentions to him were unremitting; she never left him, and consoled him by every means in her power. She had him brought to St. Cloud; where he remained for fifteen days a prey to his feelings and distress. Her influence over him was unbounded, and her affection soothed him into calmness. On his return to Paris, he went to the Opera and theatres; and no sooner had he presented himself, than he was hailed with enthusiasm. He had dreaded to appear again in public, as he imagined he should be considered as the murderer of the duke; but he had a soul above such a crime, and the prince was sacrificed by the intrigues of his ministers."

Of the life of the Margrave and Margravine, at Brandenburgh House, the authoress gives an amusing description, and is not sparing in her sketches of their contemporaries in the high circles.

The illness and death of the Margrave are thus related:

"He had a favourite grey horse, which was to run for the Derby, and which, from his own and the public opinion, there was every reason to believe was likely to gain the stakes of that year. One morning he called me to him, and with much earnestness said, he had one favour to beg of me, if he should not be alive in the spring when those races were to take place. 'If I should be taken from you,' said he, let me entreat of you on no account to be persuaded by any one to withdraw the grey horse from the course, as I am certain, if fairly used, he will win the Derby.' I begged of him not to talk in such a manner, as I hoped he would live to see his horse come off victorious that year, and live to see many others. I perceived, from the earnestness of his manner, that he had something more upon his mind; when he informed me that he was aware he had a complaint which would baffle the skill of the faculty, and that he was resigned to his fate, whenever he should be called away.


His observations were but too true; his constitution gradually gave way, and he resigned his life at Benham,-after lingering for two years with a pulmonary complaint,-when he had nearly completed his seventieth year. He had, previously, declared his intention of leaving me in the possession of all

his property: a proof that he thought me deserving of his tenderness was, that he fulfilled his wishes."

This is followed by a panegyric on the exalted character of his Serene Highness, which it is to be hoped he merited; but which at all events it is delightful to read as the involuntary praise of an affectionate wife.

Some of the anecdotes in the present volumes are rather too gay, and in too Continental a taste, for quotation in our pages, and we apprehend their existence may be traced to the Margravine's strong perception of the ludicrous, which, in one or two instances, has certainly thrown her a little off her guard as to decorum; but this is all: she never loses sight of morality.

We trust her book will vindicate her as she wishes. She appears to have been more "sinned against than sinning," especially in the reception she encountered at Court, and from some members of her own: family, on her return to her native country, after her marriage with the Margrave. She has, of course, expatiated fully in her memoirs upon this interesting and painful part of her life; and as she always had, even from her enemies, a reputation for veracity, there can be no fear but that the present volumes will place many hitherto doubtful matters in their proper light.


PRETTY one, when I am dead,

And all the love thou see'st is fled,
In what lone sea cave

Where the weary billows flee

When the moon is on the wave,-
On what slope or sunny shore,
Grassy dell or wild-wood hoar,
Wilt thou count the minutes o'er,
Watching for me?

I-when I am dead and gone,

To thy side will flee;

If the soul may rise upon

Its desires, and soar alone

Where the pale flesh once was known,

Ever will I haunt by thee.

Every hour of every morn,

Every eve when love is born,

Will I stand by thee;

Though my great love thou ne'er see'st,

Still I'll love, and where thou flee'st,

Thither will I flee.

Every night beside thy breast

Will I take my holy rest,

Every sigh thou utterest

Echoed still shall be:

All thy pleasure, all thy pain

I (albeit a shadow vain)

Will endure, and count it bliss:
Pretty doubter, is not this

Truly to love thee?

Jan.--VOL. XVI. NO. LXI. H:



Paris, December 18th, 1825.

SIR,-I sit down to give you a sketch of the moral state of Paris, during the month of December. I intend that my letters should fill up the deficiencies of the newspapers; but as I shall not write more than twelve or fifteen pages, I must beg to be often understood by mere hints. Besides, it will be quite impossible for me, within so limited a space, to give detailed proofs for all my assertions.

If the political system of France were firm and well adjusted, that is to say, if it were such as would satisfy moderate men of all parties, literature would almost exclusively fill up the monthly pictures which I intend to present to you: unfortunately, such is not the case; and this month, for example, literature will occupy only two-thirds of my letter. I should wish that, after perusing it, you may be enabled to form an idea of the various topics, by turns literary and political, which afford food for conversation in the drawing-rooms of Paris.

France is, in fact, governed by a constitution, consisting of four articles:

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ARTICLE 1. The laws shall be made by two chambers, appointed by the ministry.

II. Five journals shall enjoy free permission to speak on all subjects, except the follies of the royal family.

III. Promotion in the Royal Guard shall be made, and all places shall be filled up, solely on the recommendation of the Jesuits, who overawe the ministers.

IV. The Jesuits, and the 25,000 young priests who are devoted to them, may commit every crime, murder excepted, without being prosecuted by law. Of this, the case of the Curé de Darnetal, near Rouen, affords an example.

This constitution, which is without a parallel, is faithfully executed: such is the way in which things go on in France. During the present month, however, the Jesuits have experienced a 'considerable check. They wished to suppress the two most independent and best-conducted journals, viz. the Courier and the Constitutionnel, each of which have 24,000 readers. Charles X. himself, three months ago, directed his attorney-general, the famous Bellart, who became notorious through the sacrifice of Marshal Ney, to proceed against the two journals abovementioned. M. de Chateaubriand intimated, that the public are to be deprived of two-fifths of the liberty of the press which they enjoy; for there are, in all, only five journals not sold to the ministry.

For the space of a week, the attention of Paris was exclusively engrossed by an expected decision of twenty-seven judges of the Royal Court, presided by M. Seguier, peer of France. M. Seguier is a man of talent, but he is haunted by a spirit of ambition, which makes him court favour in a way that often renders him very ridiculous; as, for instance, when, a few years ago, he declaimed against Cashmere shawls, and the corrupt morals of the ladies of Paris. The fact is, that since Francis I. corrupted the morals of France, they have never been more exemplary, nor has society ever been more dull than at present. M. Seguier, who aspires to the post of minister, acquitted the two journals so obnoxious to the Jesuits. By this decision, which I should not mention, were it not that it serves to mark a sort of revolution in our

very anomalous government, the Royal Court of Paris, consisting of judges irremovable, it is true, but, at the same time, poorly paid, has possessed itself of a portion of the supreme authority of the state, and thus participates in the government after the manner of the old parliaments. Public opinion being nearly all-powerful in France (for it is kept in check by nothing but the bayonets of the Royal Guard), and as every Frenchman thinks like the journal he reads, M. Seguier has become the umpire of opinion. According to the preamble, or grounds of both his judgments, it appears that any thing may be said against the Jesuits, and that the famous declaration of 1682, on the privileges of the Gallican church, against the court of Rome, becomes a law of the state, and, what is still more decisive, a law actually in force; for we have twenty or thirty fundamental laws which the ministers laugh at. On the day succeeding that on which the last judgment was delivered, the daughter and son-in-law of M. Seguier, who resided with him, quitted his house by the advice of their confessor.

M. Seguier's troops, that is to say, the judges of the Royal Court of Paris, are, for the most part, very eager to obtain places for their sons or nephews, and crosses (of the Legion of Honour) for themselves. Our premier, M. de Villele, might possibly have gained them over. But M. de Villele has been very well satisfied with the judgment of the Royal Court. The short-robed Jesuits, Messrs. Montmorency, de Latil, de Levis, de Polignac, &c. will try to drive him out of power. A judgment which makes it allowable to turn the Jesuits into ridicule, is, consequently, a very important matter to M. de Villele. Among the 420 members composing our Chamber of Deputies, there are 108 Jesuits, under the control of M. Ferdinand de Berthier.

An event, important in its consequences rather than in itself, has recently occupied public attention in Paris, and indeed throughout France. General Foy, who had scarcely completed his fifty-second year, died on the 22d of November. This distinguished man, who was the most eloquent of all our public speakers, died poor, and without being sold. Mirabeau died bought, on the 2d of April, 1791. Superstitious persons have been struck by the circumstance of General Foy having expired within less than thirty paces from the spot on which Mirabeau breathed his last. Mirabeau possessed a profound knowledge of human nature, and of the science of government, and he would probably have been a great minister; General Foy, who showed himself very eager to be raised to the ministry, would have found himself very feeble under so heavy a burthen. He was too much of a poet, and too little of a calculator. He wanted positive and simply reasonable ideas. His merit may be summed up in a few words:-though inspired by the most ardent ambition, he scorned to commit an act of meanness for the sake of rising in the ministry. In this respect, Foy was superior to Mirabeau. With regard to eloquence, which in France consists in moving the feelings, rather than in convincing the understanding, and which, consequently, ought to limit speeches to the duration of an hour at the utmost, Foy was almost equal to Mirabeau. His eloquence was only less powerful in its effects than that of Mirabeau, because it was exercised in more tranquil times. I was in the chamber when General Foy delivered his famous speech of the 24th of June, on the budget of the minister for foreign affairs, that is to say, on the political system which the Holy Alliance forced France to pursue. He was repeatedly inter

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