English will only purchase their wines of London wine-merchants, instead of procuring them from the countries where they are grown, as is the custom with us. Now these wine-merchants adulterate the wine to such an astounding degree, that, not long since, when one of them was charged with having so many thousand bottles of claret and port in his cellars, for which he had not paid the duty, he proved, that all the wine in question was of his own brewing, and thus evaded the fine. Of course, under such a

system, you may easily conceive what sort of compound a man is often doomed to drink, under the well-sounding names of Champagne,

Lafitte, and so forth. Indeed, the merchants

seldom think of buying the best wine produced by a country, for the very manifest reason, that they would make little or no profit by it-or, if

such a fragrant or flagrant practical satirist, is, we shrewdly suspect, no other than Prince Puckler Muskau himself-and to prove that this supposition is not wholly groundless, we will give the Prince an opportunity of stating a grievance.

"Of all the outrages against English habits which a man can possibly commit, and which would in all probability pronounce his sentence of banishment-the three following are the principal: to eat with a knife instead of a fork; to take sugar or asparagus with your hand; or, beyond all, to spit upon the floor of a room. This is all right enough-and well-bred people in all countries avoid such actions; though, by

the way, in these respects, as in all others, customs are liable to change, for the Marshal Richelieu detected an adventurer who repre

the charge brought against the members of the Travellers' Club,' when His Highness affirms that their rule of play, which requires the loser of 1001. and upwards, to 'pay up' on the following morning, is most rigidly enforced against foreigners, while Englishmen are, with the tacit consent of the committee, suffered to defer such payments for weeks and months. He is, however, kind enough to admit, that, in this respect, "the Travellers' (where he was a guest, well treated, he concedes, save and except that he could not scold the servants as he wished,) forms a bad exception among the London clubs, and therefore deserves this public reprehension." We suspect that this "public reprehension" will go far towards closing the door of the

use it to pass off any other wretched stuff they may have by them.'

property. But "back to our clubs," says His Highness-so say we :

Nothing surprises a foreigner more than the pitch of refined ease to which the English have carried the art of sitting-and he who knows not the genial form of English chairs for every stage of weariness, sickness, or constitutional peculiarity, must be pronounced ignorant of an important part of mortal life's enjoyment. It is, in fact, a real delight to see an Englishman sitting, or rather, lying in one of these bedlike chairs, before a chimney fire. A contrivance, at the arm of the chair, somewhat resembling a writing-desk, and furnished with a light, is drawn before him, so that with the slightest touch, he can bring it nearer to him or remove it at pleasure. In addition to this, a peculiar machine, of which there are several near the fire-place, receives one or both of his feet, and now, a hat on his head, and the delightfully pleasing picture is complete."

"The custom of half-lying down, instead of sitting, with one leg crossed over the other, so that you hold your foot in your hand, or with the thumbs fixed in the arm-holes of the waistcoat, &c. &c.-these are all things which, in the largest companies, and the most exclusive circles, are overlooked. It is, therefore, likely enough, that hat-wearing is one of this dignified list, the rather, as it prevails in Parisian society, which, contrary to its ancient custom of giving models to the apes of Europe, now-ludicrously enough at times-condescends itself to ape the English, and, as usually occurs in such cases, the copy out-Herods the original.

"In the Travellers' Club I was much amused in this respect, by a distinguished foreigner from the South, who, probably as a satire on these licences of manner, and fashionable rudeness in externals, like the Chinese, took it all very easily, and frequently at play gave openmouthed vent to certain sounds, which formerly would scarce have been tolerated in a pothouse."

"Travellers see strange things," says the adage, and so will the Travellers of Pall-mall exclaim when this number of the Athenæum falls under their wondering gaze. The distinguished foreigner just mentioned as being

"These are, I repeat, less than trifles, but the best rules of conduct in a foreign country, have ample, were I to give some few general rules to reference almost exclusively to trifles. For exa youthful traveller, I should most gravely counsel him as follows: In Naples behave brutally, in Rome be natural, in Austria eschew politics, in France give yourself no airs, in Germany as many as you please, and in England never spit. On this plan, my young friend would go on pretty well through the world."

Now, we think, that the querulous tone of His Highness's complaint of our unwillingness to adopt the Teutonic mode of painting the carpet's lily, and throwing a perfume on its violet, is pretty conclusive as to the possibility of his having been himself the distinguished foreigner" who brought the castoff customs of the pot-house into the cardroom of the Travellers' Club. But before we proceed further, we must do the Prince the justice to place his other recorded grievances before our readers, so that a fair estimate may be formed of what he had to endure at this club, as also of the spirit, manly or otherwise, in which he met what his countrymen would call "the unavoidable."

"A foreigner will give great offence in the dining-room-which after all is but an elegant restaurateur, where each one pays for his meal when it is finished - if when a servant waits badly or brings one thing in place of another, he should venture to complain or to speak in a loud commanding tone, though the English themselves do this often enough at home, and especially in Germany. And again, it is not merely a mistake, but an unpardonable fault, to read during dinner; for in England it is not the fashion, and I, who am addicted to this bad habit, soon perceived sundry satirical marks of displeasure thereat, from divers of these islanders, who shook their heads as they passed me."

ers" of the eaves-dropping and tour-publishing class. As to the ire of Prince Puckler Muskau against the Travellers' Club, it may, without much difficulty, be accounted for, when we consider that Baron Bulow found all his influence necessary to spare his friend the disgrace of expulsion-for what, we know not, but certainly, as the ancient gentlewomen would say, not for his good behaviour.

Leaving the clubs, let us now accompany the Prince in a very profound and original analogy, which he has drawn between the personal character of Punch, and the national character of Englishmen. Of all the speculations it has been our fortune to fall in or out with, this we think the most peculiar and we can conceive the face of the Prince presenting much of the appearance so felicitously hit off by him, when he tells us of Goethe: "O you are too kind," said he, with his South-German manner, but at the same time with a North-German satirical smile."

After some well-merited execration of our barrel-organs, His Highness says

"But there is another species of street-play, more amusing than the above, a genuine national comedy, which deserves some closer attention, and which has to-day afforded me real diversion beneath my window.

"This is the English Punch (perfectly distinct from the Italian Punchinello), whose true picture I am about to give you, not omitting how he killed his wife, for he is the most reprobate dog I have ever met with, having no more conscience than the wood out of which he is carved, or the mass of the nation whom he represents.

"Punch, like his namesake, has something of the properties of arrack, lemon, and sugar, in his composition-strong, sour, and sweet-and, consequently, of a character not unlike the inebriate mind caused by the beverage. He is, furthermore, the most consummate egotist on earth, et ne doute jamais de rien. And by this unrestrainable recklessness and humour he conquers everything, laughs at laws, men, and at the devil himself, in which representation he shows, in part, what the Englishman is, and, in part, what he might become--namely, one made up of selfishness, endurance, courage, and, where necessary, a reckless decision on the side of his country, with a disregard and ridicule of every other;-but allow me to continue my sketch of Punch, as it were, in his own words, supplying some little additional information from his bio

"As a descendant of Punchinello, he is beyond doubt an ancient nobleman, nearly related to Harlequin, Clown, &c., but by his undaunted boldness he is best entitled to be the head of the family.' Virtuous he cannot be called, but, like a good Englishman, he doubtless goes to church on a Sunday, though immediately after

says

he kills a parson who bothers him too much with attempts at conversion. It must be admitted that Punch is a wild fellow, no very moral For the present we must close our extracts personage, and not in vain created of wood. with one giving proof of that graphic For example, no one can box to better purpose, which the author is known to possess, and for he feels not the blows of others, while his which, when he is in a good humour, he own are irresistible. Thus, he is a perfect Turk employs with admirable effect. After menin his disregard of human life, suffers no contradiction, and fears not the devil himself. Intioning his presentation at the levec, he many other respects, on the contrary, his great qualities command our admiration. His wonderful insensibility of heart, and his constant good humour, already mentioned with praise, his imperturbable self-satisfaction, his invincible wit, and the consummate cunning with which he extricates himself from every mauvais pas, and contrives at last to triumph victoriously over all antagonists, throw a dazzling lustre round the little freedoms which he occasionally permits himself to take with human life. He has been not inaptly pronounced a blending of Richard III. and Falstaff-and, indeed, his appearance combines the crooked legs and the double hump of Richard, with the pleasing corpulence of Falstaff, to which add the Italian length of his nose and the fire of his flashing

black eyes.

"His abode is a sort of box supported on four poles, with appropriate internal decorations,—a theatre, which, in a few seconds, can be thrown up at any spot you please."

The Prince then enters on details so very minute of the soliloquies and colloquies of the dramatis persone, that we must refuse ourselves the pleasure of quoting an account of mysteries so well understood by our readers, old and young. We shall therefore proceed to the concluding remark of the narrator, to the following effect :—

"I leave it to you, dear Julia, to make all the philosophical reflections, of which not a few are attached to the career of Punch: it would be an especially interesting investigation to inquire how far this favourite and daily-acted popular play may, in the course of so many years, have influenced the morale of the ordinary man." Interesting indeed! but we cannot undertake it, and therefore we accompany our author to another national representation, which, being of a graver character, moved him, he says, to a lively sense of the ludicrous,-even as the exploits of Punch had plunged him in philosophical abstractions as to our national character. He attended at the opening of Parliament by His late Majesty :

"About half-past two appeared the King, the only one present in full dress, and, indeed, from head to foot arrayed in the ancient regal costume, wearing the crown, and holding the sceptre in his hand. He looked pale and bloated, and was obliged to sit for a long while on the throne before he could gain sufficient breath to read his speech. During this time he gave some kindly looks and condescending greetings to certain of the most favoured among the ladies present. On one side stood Lord Liverpool with the Sword of State, and on the other the Duke of Wellington. All three appeared so miserable, ash-grey, and superannuated, that mortal greatness had never before seemed so truly little in my eyesindeed, the tragic side of all the comedies we are playing here below, fell heavily on my heart! Yet a lively feeling of the ludicrous also rose within me to see the mightiest monarch of the earth thus forced to stand forward as the principal actor before a public, in his own opinion so immeasurably below him. In truth, the entire scene of the entrance and exit, with the costume of the King, forcibly reminded one of the style in which historical dramas are here produced; and it only wanted the obligato flourish of trumpets, which invariably accom

"The King, owing to indisposition, was obliged to continue seated. All those who had received any appointment, knelt before His Majesty and kissed his hand, at which the American Envoy, near to whom I accidentally found myself, smiled sarcastically. The Clerical and Judicial personages cut a singular figure in their black gowns and short or flowing wigs; and one of repressed laughter. This person knelt down to them became the object of almost general and illbe knighted,' as the English call it, and in this position, with the flowing fleece about his head, looked very much like a wether led to the butcher's block. His Majesty motioned to the Grand Functionary for his sword. But, for the the warrior's hand, and leave the scabbard-he first time, perhaps, the sword refused to obey pulled-pushed-but all in vain. The King ing all his strength without effect, the luckwaiting with out-stretched arm, the Duke strainless martyr bowing with silent resignation, as though his end were approaching; and all around the dazzling court in anxious expectationformed together a group well worthy of Gillray's pencil. At length, like a lightning flash, the sword came forth. His Majesty took it impatiently, for to all appearance his arm had gone to sleep with so long waiting, so that the first blow fell, not upon the new knight, but on his old wig, which, for about a moment left King and subject concealed in one cloud of hair powder."

Memoirs of Great Commanders. By G. P. R. James, Esq., author of 'Darnley,' &c. 3 vols. London, 1832. Colburn & Bentley. ON what principle Mr. James has made his selection of the Great Commanders, it is rather difficult to determine, and is not perhaps worth inquiring. We have Memoirs of Henry V., King of England; John Plantagenet, Duke of Bedford; Gonzalves de Cordova; the Duke of Alva; Óliver Cromwell; George Monk, Duke of Albemarle ; Marshal Turenne; the Great Condé; John

Churchill, Duke of Marlborough; Prince Eugene, of Savoy; Earl of Peterborough; John Manners, Marquis of Granby; and

General Wolfe.

We might, indeed, inquire further, why the title of Memoirs is given to the work at all-for a memoir seems to us to promise a light gossiping, anecdotical private history,

where the reader is admitted behind the scenes, and into the Green Room, and is introduced to the actors in their undress

something, indeed, of even less pretence than biography; whereas, these Memoirs are as free from all such familiar fascinations as history itself. But Mr. James has anticipated the objection, and states in the preface, that they are called Memoirs, "perhaps erroneously, as having a more confined meaning

than Lives."

"The character of Lord Peterborough, like that of every other man that ever lived, has been differently estimated according to the character itself of those who have spoken of him. Some have seen nothing in him but a passion for notoriety, and a mania of being talked of: but in general a man who is actuated by such motives does not content himself with performing deeds worthy of mention, but rather strives worthy or not. to call attention to his deeds, whether they be I can conceive no man to be

absolutely indifferent to the commendation of

his fellows, for such a state of feeling would imply a want of all sympathy with human nature, which I believe seldom exists, even in the most depraved heart, though it may sometimes be assumed by a diseased brain. Yet in Lord Peterborough we do not discover any of those mean arts, by which persons, whose whole object is the uncertain meed of popular applause, and still more those who are indifferent to the better part of fame, and only covet attention, are accustomed to strive for the gaze and babble of the multitude. It is much more probable that the original conformation of his mind caused him naturally to form singular combinations of ideas; and that a peculiarly ardent temperament acting upon great corporeal powers, hurried him from excitement to excitement, while the habit of indulgence induced wilfulness of purpose, and native excellence of impulse directed his efforts in general to great and worthy objects.

"Those who had the most immediate opportunities of judging of his character-and they were men in whom the investigation of motives, and the scrutiny of human nature, became a fault-who applied microscopes to man's mind, and magnified the fine tissue of feelings and actions till it became a web so coarse that the smallest thread was discernible-even they

judged nobly of the character of Lord Peterborough. Nor do his recorded actions show general he was bold, decisive, persevering, sucany cause for impugning their opinion. As a cessful, full of just views and great resources, active in enterprise, calm in conduct, and resolute in execution. As a politician and diplomatist, he appears to have possessed the great qualities of frankness and sincerity, joined to the fine ones of a clear insight into the characters of others, a just appreciation of their motives, a correct estimation of measures, and a great

fertility of means." iii. 239-241.

The memoir of Wolfe, is a pleasant piece of biography, and Mr. James has used skilfully the few materials which cotemporary writers had left to him. We shall extract an account of his death, and again, Mr. James's summary of his character :—

46

The enemy approached steadily and quickly, firing as they came up; but according to the general order the British troops reserved their

fire till the distance between the armies was narrowed to forty yards, when pouring it rapidly into the French line, they threw the advancing columns into some confusion. At that moment Wolfe gave the order to charge, and was leading on the Louisbourg Grenadiers to attack the

enemy with the bayonet, when he received a wound in his wrist, to which he paid no farther attention than by wrapping his handkerchief round it. An instant after, however, a second shot passed through his body; and before he fell, a third entered his right breast. He dropped immediately, and was carried insensible to the rear. The troops still pressed on, and General Monkton, the second in command, who was leading on another regiment of Grenadiers, fell severely wounded a moment after. The French wavered; and while their officers were making immense exertions to keep them to their ground, Montcalm was killed in the centre of the line. Nearly at the same moment each of the British regiments closed with their adversaries. The bayonets of the Grenadiers drove the enemy in confusion down the slope; the Scotch regiments threw away their muskets and drew their broadswords; the French dispersed in every direction, and the cry, They run! They run!' echoed over the field.

"Wolfe had lain without speech, and though he apparently revived from time to time, yet he never raised his head, and scarcely had animation returned for an instant before he again fainted away. At the moment when the French were finally put to flight, however, he was lying seemingly insensible: but at that cry 'They run! they run!' his eyes opened, and looking up, he demanded eagerly, 'Who run?'

"The French!' was the reply; they are in full flight down the hill.' Then, I thank God,' said the General, I die contented;' and with those words upon his lips General Wolfe expired." iii. 341-3.

"It rarely indeed happens that so short a life, -not four and thirty years-has been able to comprise such great actions, and to acquire such a mighty name; but Wolfe died in the happy

moment of success: and the consequences of his achievements, proved the best comment on their importance. Nor was the voice of a great orator and noble-minded man wanting to do full justice to the merits of the dead officer. Lord Chatham,

then Mr. Pitt, in moving an address to the King, to petition that a monument might be erected to Wolfe in Westminster Abbey, pronounced a splendid panegyric upon the man by whose courage, perseverance, skill, and talent, one of his own greatest schemes had been conducted to complete success. The voice of the whole nation seconded the appeal of the minister; and bright -amidst the immensity of lying epitaphs and vain mausoleums, which in all ages and all countries, have attributed suppositious virtues to the dead-the marble to Wolfe is a true monument of national applause, recording qualities that existed, triumphed, and were valued as they deserved. Contemporary praise paid every tribute to his memory, and passing years-those telltale discoverers of hidden frailties-have detected no flaw in his noble reputation. Had he lived longer, fortune it is true might have changed, his schemes might have failed, his exertions proved ineffectual, but still Wolfe would have been a great man. As it was, kind, generous, liberal, brave, talented, enthusiastic, he lived beloved and admired for his short space of being, went on through existence from success to success, and then, like the setting sun of a summer's day, he sunk with the blaze of his glory all about him." iii. 348-350.

The memoirs of Turenne and the Great Condé are both well written, and the distinction between their characters very ably shown.

"The characters of Turenne and Condé were as opposite as that of any two great generals can be. Turenne, prudent, cautious, and skilful, was never bold but as an effect of calculation, and avoided difficulties rather than surmounted them. Condé, bold, ardent, and impetuous, was a great general by nature rather than education, and thought that heaven threw

celebrated work: we doubt, for instance, whether Gonzalves was born at Cordova, in 1443, and rather think it was at Montilla, in 1453-but we speak from recollection, and shall not, therefore, trust ourselves with commentary. On the whole, these volumes will repay the reader-it is not a work of much authority, but sufficiently instructive, and will be found pleasant reading.

Though Turenne suffered his troops to pillage with somewhat of licentious good humour, and laid the conquered countries under contribution with far more consideration for the victors than the vanquished, personal cupidity had no share in his conduct. He loved his soldiers

as a father, overlooked their faults with a partial eye, and did more for them than he would have done for himself; but no share of the plunder ever found its way to his hands. Two anecdotes

of his disinterestedness are attached to the campaign we have just described. On one occasion an officer of rank came to propose to him a plan for gaining four hundred thousand francs in a few days, without the possibility of the transaction being known. Turenne heard him with his usual mildness, and then replied: 'I am much obliged to you, but having often found similar opportunities without taken advantage of them, I do not think it would be worth while to change my conduct at my time of life.'" ii. 202-3.

"Another anecdote is told of Turenne, which

may as well be repeated in this place, as it shows that grand and honourable candour which is one of the noblest qualities of the noblest minds. During the time that Louis XIV., abandoned by all his allies, had to struggle alone against the united power of Europe, he employed Turenne to carry on a secret negociation with Charles II. of England, for the purpose of detaching that monarch from the famous triple

alliance. This transaction was conducted

through the intervention of the Princess Henrietta of England, who had married the Duke of Orleans. In the suite of that Princess was a

lady, of whom Turenne, in the course of frequent and continued intercourse, became enamoured, and with a culpable weakness he revealed to her the object of his negociations with her mistress. The lady, of course, in turn confided the secret of her ancient lover to a younger one, and he betrayed it to the Duke of Orleans, from whom it had been kept studiously concealed. The Duke reproached his brother, Louis XIV., with want of confidence; and Louis who had only entrusted the knowledge of his plan to Louvois and Turenne, doubting the discretion of the minister, but firmly confident in the general, complained Litterly to Turenne of the supposed misconduct of Louvois. Without a moment's hesitation, Turenne acknowledged his fault, and shielded his enemy from the wrath he had not deserved, by calling it upon his own head. Louis appreciated his magnanimity, and received his confession as full compensation for his offence; but Turenne himself never ceased to regret the event, and to redden whenever the subject was approached. It is said that in after years the Chevalier de Loraine, to whom the secret had been betrayed by Turenne's frail confidante, happened to mention the circumstance to the great general.

'Stop, stop a moment!' Turenne exclaimed as the other began, 'let me first put out the candles!" ii. 205-6.

The life of the Great Captain, Gonzalves de Cordova, must, we presume, be considered as the crowning jewel of the work; and we are willing to believe that it has cost Mr. James far greater labour than the others yet we doubt if he be very certain of his

The Georgian Era. Vol. I. London, 1832. Vizetelly & Co.

THIS is the first volume of a work, which is to contain the Memoirs of the most eminent Persons who have flourished in Great Bri

tain, from the accession of George I. to the death of George IV., so elassed, as to give something like a history of the age, in the pleasant form of biography. The present volume contains-The Royal Family, The Pretenders and their Adherents, Churchmen, Dissenters and Statesmen. The idea is certainly excellent, and the work is got up with great taste. It contains nearly six hundred pages, and one hundred and fifty neat little portraits on wood, and is to be bought for ten shillings and sixpence! The memoirs we have read, are compiled with care, and the summaries written with impartiality. If the editor has not taken a very enlarged and philosophical view of the subject, he has generally contrived to make it entertaining, and the whole volume abounds in anecdote. It will be a delightful work for a country fire-side-and we have not lately seen one we could more cordially recommend to those who are obliged to economize in their library purchases.

The Records of a Good Man's Life. By the Rev. Charles B. Tayler, M.A., Author of 'May you like it,' &c. Vol. I. London, 1832. Smith, Elder & Co.

We have known Mr. Tayler for some time as a man most pious and most worthy. He has written pretty bocks full of good sense and sound morality-nay, made occasional excursions into the regions of fancy, or tried his hand on human character, and we thought his flights not far amiss, though neither very high nor very long. The present volumes will bear us out in this opinion: they abound with virtues and in deeds charitable and humane; they likewise contain many dialogues, amusing or instructive, and scenes of very consider able beauty. The work is ostensibly made up from the memorandums, which the good man of the story was so thoughtful as to preserve, of his actions, motives, and sayings: he is a clergyman, and Singleton by name, as pure, too, as pure can well beperfection obtained by the deduction of vice. It was necessary, indeed, to make the hero the echo of the title-page; yet we are not so sure that the author has concocted him

from a very natural receipt of this, however, our readers shall judge, as the key to his character will be found in the following little scene, which took place after his funeral:

"The evening after the funeral of my revered friend was over, I observed a person walking up and down the broad walk which crosses the churchyard of Kirkstone. He continued there for some time, and frequently, when he approached the spot where the body of Mr. Single

ton had been buried, he stopped, and seemed to stand in thoughtful silence. I joined him there with a sort of listless curiosity, feeling disposed at that moment to love any one who had loved my venerable friend. I went forth from the now desolate study which overlooks the churchyard, and spoke with the man.

You were acquainted with the good old minister, who is no longer among us,' I said. The man touched his hat respectfully.

"I was, indeed, Sir,' he replied. I learned from him what Christian forgiveness really is. I was at one time his most insulting and bitter enemy. I wish I could have told him before he died how very sorry I have long felt for my wickedness, but I put it off from time to time, from false shame, and the kind, good old gentleman cannot hear me now.'

"When I learned the man's name, I remembered that I had heard him mentioned several times by Mr. Singleton, but always in terms of peculiar kindness. This was ever his way: there seemed to be a watchful anxiety about him to feel kindly towards those persons who had displayed anything like ill-will towards him. He never lost an opportunity of doing them a good turn, and with so sweet a grace, that you could see no resentment found harbour in his breast." i. 9-10.

We are of opinion that the defunct was a descendant of the renowned Worldly Wiseman; and we consider it next to incredible that he turned out a worthy member of society. If he did always a good turn to his enemies, with a peculiar grace, how did he acquit himself to his friends? We set him down in our hearts for a bit of a hypocrite the moment we read this; and we are certain, that nowhere else, save in the pages of a novel, could a man of Mr. Singleton's nature have grown into a truly good man. There are other little blemishes of the same nature in these volumes, yet, on the whole, we have read them with considerable pleasure, and recommend them to the old and the young for their piety and fervour. Some of the lesser stories are very good :—of these, 'Anne of Cleves' is historically accurate; so are the 'Lady Lisle' and 'Joan of Kent.' We wish, however, the author to strew fewer paste pearls and artificial flowers over the foregrounds of his pictures; and, above all, tell a plain, straightforward story, without ten thousand dashes and unnecessary halts in the narrative.

REMINISCENCES OF MIRABEAU, BY DUMONT, OF GENEVA.

Souvenirs sur Mirabeau et sur les deux premières Assemblées Législatives. Par Etienne Dumont (de Genève). Ouvrage posthume, publié par M. J. L. Duval, Membre du Conseil Représentatif de Genève. Paris,

1832. Charles Gosselin.

THE French revolution forms one of those extraordinary epochs in the history of mankind, when the moral character and peculiar habits of a whole nation undergo a sudden and total change. The light-hearted inconstancy, so peculiar to the French people under the régime of feodality and oppression, gave way, at the revolution, to serious habits and consistency of purpose; and our lively neighbours (as some writers still absurdly call them,) became a grave, reflecting, and speculative people. A developement of energy and talent, of the highest order, was one of the remarkable effects of this generous struggle for political freedom;—and among the many

extraordinary men acted upon by this exciting cause, was the Count de Mirabeau, who, but for such stimulus, would probably have wasted the energies of a master-mind in the pursuit of low and sensual enjoyment.

The talents of Mirabeau were of the highest order his eloquence quite unrivalled. The effect of his oratory was magical: he exercised the most irresistible sway over the minds of his hearers-excited or controlled at pleasure their feelings and passions and could influence them to what he "liked or loathed" with a power unequalled, and almost unknown, in the annals of modern eloquence.

Another, and perhaps a more remarkable faculty, was his extraordinary sagacity and political foresight. His predictions seemed like prophecy; and there were but few of his anticipations, which his friends and enemies treasured up as ominous, or ridiculed as absurd, that did not turn out prophetic. He alone and this has been admitted by historians of all parties—could have controlled the revolutionary excesses which produced the Reign of Terror; and, had he lived, it is not unreasonable to hope and believe, that the bright page of French political regeneration had never been sullied with the blood of a million victims, nor the altars of liberty polluted by the crimes of sanguinary demagogues.

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ments-his imprisonments-and his morals, could not be overlooked, even in a city so lax as Paris; and his name was pronounced with detestation at the houses of some of our most intimate friends. Romilly, almost ashamed of his former friendship for Mirabeau, determined not to renew acquaintance with him. But Mirabeau was not a man of etiquette; and having learned our address from Target, at whose house we had dined, he determined to call upon us. The noise of a carriage at the door made Romilly retire to his room, desiring me, should it be a visitor on a call of ceremony, to say that he was out. When Mirabeau was announced, I did not send word to Romilly, because I thought he wished to avoid seeing the Count; and as his room was only separated by a thin partition from the one we were in, I supposed that he could distinguish the voice of our visitor, and make his appearance if he pleased. Mirabeau began the conversation by talking of our mutual friends in London: he then spoke of Genevafor he well knew that a Genevese was never tired of talking of his country. He said many flattering things of a city which, by producing so many distinguished men, had contributed to the general mass so large a share of genius and knowledge; and he concluded by declaring, that he should never be happy until he was able to free that city from the fetters imposed upon it by the revolution of 1782. Two hours seemed but a moment; and Mirabeau was, in my eyes, the most interesting object in Paris. The visit ended by my promising to dine with him the same day, and he was to return and fetch me in his carriage.

With whom were you talking so long?' said Romilly, on leaving his room, to which this long visit had confined him. Did not you recognize the voice?' inquired I.-'No.' And yet you well know the person; and I even think you must have heard a panegyric on yourself, which would have made a superb funeral oration.'-'What! was it Mirabeau ?'-'It was; and may I be a fool all my life, if I allow the scruples of our friends to prevent me from en

Of such a man, all authentic information is valuable; and, in this posthumous work of his friend Dumont, we find materials with which no other individual could have supplied us. The name of Dumont, the jurisconsult of Geneva,-a man of distinguished celebrity, and known not only to have lived in the closest intimacy with Mirabeau, but to have supplied him with the subject-matter and arguments of many of his most powerful speeches,-is of itself suffi-joying his company. I belong neither to Cacient to give a stamp of high authority to these Reminiscences. Dumont, when an exile from his country, resided many years in England. He was the friend and companion of Fox, Sheridan, Lord Holland, of Romilly and Bentham; and the latter is indebted to him for much of his popularity in foreign countries.

We feel, therefore, something like a national interest in this work; and, believing that our readers will feel with us, we had great pleasure in receiving an early copy, and shall be liberal in our translations from it.

These Souvenirs' are written in a very simple and unpretending style, and were evidently not intended for publication-at least in their present form: they were probably the materials for a History of the early part of the French Revolution. The editor, M. Duval, has very judiciously given them without the slightest alteration, or any attempts to supply omissions.

The following extracts are selected, not because they are the best parts of the work, but as best suiting our limits, and our wish to give variety and anecdote:

"When we arrived at Paris in 1788, the character of the Count de Mirabeau was in the lowest state of degradation. He been employed at Berlin by M. de Calonne-was connected with all the enemies of Necker, against whom he had several times exercised his pen-and was considered as a dangerous enemy and a slippery friend. His lawsuits with his family-bis elope

lonne's party, nor to Necker's, but to his whose conversation animates and delights me. As a commencement, I am going to dine with him today.' Mirabeau soon returned, took us both with him, and soon overcame our prejudices. We visited him often, and, taking advantage of the fine weather, made many excursions into the country. We dined with him in the Bois de Boulogne, at St. Cloud, and at Vincennes; at which he had been confined three years." 9-12. which latter place he showed us the dungeon in

The account of Mirabeau's first triumph at the assembly of the tiers-état, is interesting:

"I ought, before I related this circumstance, to have mentioned Mirabeau's first triumph at the assembly of the tiers-état. I was the more affected by it, because it concerned Duroverai,t and never was the most dreadful state of anxiety succeeded by more intense joy than on this oc

casion. Duroverai was seated in the salle with some deputies of his acquaintance. He had occasion to pass to Mirabeau a note written with a pencil. M-, who was already one of the most terrible speechifiers of the assembly, saw this, and asked the member next him, who that stranger was, who was passing notes and interfering with their proceedings. The answer he received was a stimulus to his zeal. He rose, and in a voice of thunder stated, that a foreigner, banished from his native country, and residing in England, from whose government he received a pension, was seated among them, assisting at their debates, and transmitting notes and observations to deputies of their assembly. The + Also a Genevese jurisconsult, and a fellow-exile of Dumont's.

agitation which, on every side of the hall, succeeded this denunciation would have appeared to me less sinister, had it been the forerunner of an earthquake. Confused cries were heard of Who is he?-Where is he?-Let him be pointed out!' Fifty members spoke at once, but Mirabeau's powerful voice soon obtained silence. He declared that he would himself point out the foreigner, and denounce him to the assembly. This exile,' said he, in the pay of England, is M. Duroverai of Geneva; and know that this respectable man, whom you have so wantonly insulted, is a martyr of liberty;

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-that, as attorney-general of the republic of Geneva, he incurred, by his zealous defence of his fellow-citizens, the indignation of our visirs; -that a lettre de cachet, issued by M. de Vergennes, deprived him of the office he had but too honourably filled; and that when his native city was brought under the yoke of the aristocracy, he obtained the honour of exile. Know, further, that the crime of this enlightened and virtuous citizen consisted in having prepared a code of laws, in which he had abolished odious privileges.'

"The impression produced by this speech, of which this is only an abstract, was electrical. It was succeeded by a universal burst of applause. Nothing that resembled this force and dignity of elocution had ever before been heard in the tumultuous assembly of the tiers-état. Mirabeau was deeply moved at this first success. Duroverai was immediately surrounded by deputies, who, by their kind attentions, endeavoured to atone for the insult they had offered. Thus, an accusation, which had at first filled me with dread, terminated so much the more to my satisfaction, that the knowledge of this scene at Geneva could not fail to promote the recall of her exiled citizens." p. 54-9.

This anecdote is succeeded by one which we insert here, as it brings before us a man, of whose character no writer appears, to us, to have yet formed a correct estimate:

"I have not many recollections of these early proceedings of the assembly; but I cannot forget the occasion on which a man, who after

wards acquired a fatal celebrity, first brought himself into notice. The clergy were endeavour ing, by a subterfuge, to obtain a meeting of the orders; and for this purpose deputed to the commons the Archbishop of Aix, who expatiated very pathetically upon the distresses of the people and the poverty of the country parishes. He produced a piece of black bread, which a dog would have rejected, and which the poor were obliged to eat, or starve. He besought the commons to depute some members to confer with those deputed by the clergy and the noblesse, upon the means of bettering the condition of the indigent classes. The commons saw the snare, but dared not openly reject the proposal, as it would render them unpopular with the lower classes, when a deputy rose, and, after professing sentiments in favour of the poor, still stronger than those of the prelate, he adroitly threw doubts upon the sincerity of the intentions avowed by the clergy.

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'Go,' said he to the Archbishop, and tell your colleagues, that if they are so impatient to assist the suffering poor, they had better come to this place and join the friends of the people. Tell them no longer to embarrass our proceedings by affected delays-tell them no longer to endeavour, by unworthy means, to make us swerve from the resolutions we have taken ;but, as ministers of religion-as worthy imitators of their master-let them forego that luxury which surrounds them, and that splendour which puts indigence to the blush. Let them resume the modesty of their origin-discharge the proud lackeys by whom they are escorted-sell their superb equipages, and convert all their superfluous wealth into food for the indigent,'

"This speech, which coincided so well with the passions of the time, did not elicit loud applause, which would have been a bravado, but was succeeded by a confused murmur much more flattering. Everybody inquired the name of the orator: he was unknown; and it was not until some time had elapsed that a name was circulated, which three years later made France tremble. The speaker was Robespierre."59-61.

The following is an excellent parallel between the French and English character; but it was more applicable, perhaps, at the close of the last century than at the present day:—

"Few of the speeches made in the assembly were written by the parties who pronounced them. A Frenchman made no scruple of using the composition of another, and acquiring honour by a species of public imposture. No Englishman of character would consent to play such a part. A Frenchman would put himself forward and make any motion suggested to him, without once troubling himself about the consequences; whilst an Englishman would be afraid of exposing himself, if he had not sufficiently studied his subject, to be able to answer every reasonable objection and support the opinion he had advanced. A Frenchman affirms very lightly; an assertion costs him but little ;-an Englishman is in no haste to believe, and before he publicly advances a fact, he traces it to its source, weighs his authorities, and makes himself master of particulars. A Frenchman believes that with a little wit he can stem a torrent of difficulties. He is ready to undertake things the most foreign to his studies and habits, and it was thus that Mirabeau made himself reporter to the Committee of Mines, without having the slightest knowledge concerning mines. An Englishman would expose himself to eternal ridicule, if he dared invade a department of which he knew nothing; and he is more disposed to refuse undertaking that which he is able to perform, than to be ambitious of doing what is beyond his power. The Frenchman believes that wit supplies the place of everything; the Englishman is persuaded that nothing can be properly done without both knowledge and practice. A French gentleman, being asked if he could play upon the harpsichord, replied, 'I do not know, for I never tried, but I will go and see.' Now this is badinage, but make it serious for harpsichord, substitute government, and for music, legislation; and instead of one French gentleman you would find twelve hundred." p. 162-164.

Of Mirabeau's celebrated speech on national bankruptcy, M. Dumont observes→→→

"Mirabeau was not well acquainted with the subject, although he had published several papers on it, such as 'The Bank of St. Charles,'

The Denunciation of Stock-jobbing,' &c. But he had two able coadjutors in Panchaud and Clavière, the former of whom said, that Mirabeau was the first man in the world to speak on a question he knew nothing about. A ready conception and the happiest expressions enabled him easily to lead superficial minds astray. M. Necker, unable to keep in motion an immense machine, whose moving power was nearly annihilated, proposed to the assembly a loan, to which he had endeavoured to give a very seductive form. He wanted, for this purpose, to make use of the credit of the Caisse d'escompte. Clavière who, I believe, had some personal dislike towards the company of the Caisse d'escompte, engaged Mirabeau to oppose the measure. The assembly attempted to organize the loan, and proceeded with as little intelligence as on many other occasions. The consequence was, that the measure was unsuccessful, and the national credit, about which so much had been said, became entirely null. M. Necker was soon after

forced to present another project, a species of patriotic loan, something like an income-tax. This time Mirabeau determined to support the minister, to whom, however, he was personally opposed. There had been no intercourse between them; for the intimacy which Duroverai and Mallouet had attempted to bring about, had failed. Some persons suspected that Mirabeau's support was given in order to fix the responsibility of the certain failure of the measure upon Necker. Several stupid members, who thought that the assembly would be wanting in dignity, if it adopted ministerial measures without altering something within, proposed several modifications. Mirabeau was of opinion that the plan might be adopted without alteration. His principal argument was the ill success of the last loan, which the friends of the minister attributed to the assembly, who, by ill-judged modifications, had altered its nature. Thence proceeding to remark upon the dangerous state of credit, and the failure of the public revenue, he represented a national bankruptcy as the probable consequence of the rejection of this project. The force with which he presented so commonplace a subject, was miraculous; he elevated it to sublimity. They who heard this speech will never forget it; it excited every gradation of terror, and a devouring gulph with the groans of the victims it swallowed, of which the speaker gave a very appalling description, seemed pictured to the senses of the audience.

"The triumph was complete; not an attempt was made to reply. The assembly were subjugated by that power of a superior and energetic mind, which acts upon the multitude as if it were only a single individual, and the project was admitted without a dissenting voice. From that day, Mirabeau was considered as a being superior to other men. He had no rival. There were, indeed, other orators, but he alone was eloquent; and this impression was stronger, because his speech on this question was a sudden reply, and could not have been prepared.

Ah!

Molé, the celebrated actor, was present. The force and dramatic effect of Mirabeau's eloquence, and the sublimity of his voice, had made a deep impression upon this distinguished comedian, who, with visible emotion, approached the orator to offer his compliments. Monsieur le Comte,' said he, in a pathetic tone of voice, what a speech! and with what an accent did you deliver it! You have surely missed your vocation! Molé smiled on perceiving the singularity of the compliment which his dramatic enthusiasm had led him to utter, but Mirabeau was much flattered by it." p. 187-192.

The plan of a counter-revolution by Mirabeau, is a fact so new to history, that we think it well to insert it here.

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"Mirabeau called on me one morning, and said he had a most important communication to make. He began by representing in the blackest colours the complete disorganization of the kingdom, expatiated on the impossibility of doing any good with the national assembly as then constituted, and at length drew from his portfolio a paper in his own hand-writing, of seven or eight pages. 'Here,' said he, is a plan by which France may yet be saved and her liberty secured; for you know me too well, my friend, to suppose that I would co-operate in any plan of which liberty was not the basis. Read it through without interruption. I will then talk to you about the means of execution, and you will see that they are commensurate with the greatness of the project. I cannot, however, tell you all, or name the parties concerned. It is a secret of honour-a solemn engagement.'

"I here have occasion to regret the imperfection of my memory, and the lapse of time which has effaced from my recollection most of the details of this project, It was founded upon