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LIBRARY

OF THE

PHILADELPHIA

MUSEUM

OF ART

Sis.^

I WM

SCM tOSS Bj S . :OTH£K

THE

Beposttorp

OF

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures, §c.

—■MB

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

January 1, 1824.

N°XIII.

EMBELLISHMENTS.

I. View of the Princess Elizabeth's Cottage, Old Windsor Stoke-Farm, the Seat of the Earl of Sefton

t.

Ladies' Morning Dress

Promenade Dress

A Study Bookcase and Medal Cabinet .

CONTENTS.

TAGE

MISCELLANIES.

iews of Country Seats. — Princess Eli-

zabeth's CottBge, Old Windsor . .

Loke-Farm, the Seat of the Earl of Sefton

hictuations in the Fashion of Hats

he Old Bachelor's Closet-Window . . Toujours Fidtle," a Sketch of French Society •

(host Stories. No. IV. — The Illumi- nated Church at Neisse, in Silesia . .

ccount of the Harmony Society, in the United States of America ....

temarks on the Preservation of the Po- pular Traditions of the Gael . . . he Exploits at Savendroog ....

l Christmas Party. — The Dinner . .

'he Shops of Paris .... ...

Mctnre of a Norwegian Bishop . . .

jioyal Occupations in the Sixteenth Cen-

i tury

isbon and the Portuguese, extracted from Letters written in 1821 and 1822

MUSICAL REVIEW. PIANO-FORTE.

valkrrenner's Effusio Musica . . .

Mayseder's Divertimento

Xiallmark's Cramer's Serenata . . . M'Murdif.'s " The Lisle," a French

j March

PIANO-FORTE VARIATIONS. Herz's Variations to " Ma Fanchette est

i charmante"

Mazzinghi's "Scots wha' hae' wi' Wallace

I bled"

(Nightingale's " Let us haste to Kelvin

I Grove"

Caraffa's Air ....

PACK . 1

. %

. 55 . 56 . 59

F-AGE

VOCAL COMPOSITIONS.

Vocal Anthology. Part VII 52

Morlachi's " Ah qual Concento" . . 53

Castelli's " In quel modesto Asilo" . ib.

German Songs. No III ib.

Boch<sa's " 'Tis not the beam of a lan- guishing eye" ". . ib.

Kiallmark's " The Seaboy's Call" . .- 54

Monro's " Send round the rosy cup" . ib.

Davy's " Can I forget" ib.

HARP.

Bochsa's " La Chasse au Renard" . . ib.

Potter's " Cruda Sorte" ib.

Bochsa's Grand Russian March Dussek's " We're a noddin" .

Second French Air

GUITAR. Caeumi's Forty easy Pieces .

ib. 55 ib.

ib.

ib.

ib

Portraits of Rossini and Moscheles

FASHIONS.

London Fashions. — Ladies' Morning

Dress ib.

Ladies' Promenade Dress 56

General Observations on Fashion and

Dress ib.

French Female Fashions 58

Fashionable Furniture. --AStudy Book- case and Medal Cabinet 59

INTELLIGENCE,

LITERARY AND SCIENTIFIC . . ib. Royal Academy ' .... 60

POETRY.

Lints addressed to Bernard Barton (from " Time's Telescope") . • . . 61

Expostulation: Addressed to Bernard Barton (from the same) ..... 62

LONDON :

PRINTED FOR, AND PUBLISH F.D BY, R. ACKERMANN, 101, STRAND}

To whom Comnumications (post-paid) are requested to be addressed.

L- Harrison, Printer, ;»7;>, Strand.

TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS.

Publishers, Authors, Artists, and Musical Composers, arc requested lo transmit, on or before the 1 5th of the month, Announcements of Works which they may hate on hand, and we shall cheerfully insert them, as we have hitherto done, free of expense. New Musical Publications also, if a copy be addressed to the Publisher, shall be duly noticed in our Review ; and Extracts front new Books, of a moderate length and of an interesting nature, suitable for our Selections, wilt be acceptable.

We shall be happy to receive the commencement of the correspondence mentioned by T. and have no doubt that it would prove very acceptable ; but until we arcfuvourcd with a specimen, we cannot, of course, pledge ourselves for its insertion.

We regret that the continuation of the Confessions of a Rambler did not reacm our hands till after the making-tip of the present Number, which, on account of the holidays, took place at an earlier period of the month than usual. Owing to tktsaim cause, the appearance of several other communications has been necessarily deferred,

Persons who reside abroad, and who wish to be supplied with this Work every Month a< published, may have it sent to them, free of Postage, to New-York, Halifax, Quebec, aiu to any part of the West Indies, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Air. Thornhiu., of the Genera Post-Office, at No. 21, Sherborne-Jane; to Hamburgh, Lisbon, Cadiz, Gibraltar, Malta, ol any Part of the Mediterranean, at £4 12s. per Annum, by Mr. Serjeant, of the General Post-Office, at No. 22, Sherborne-lane ; and to the Cape of Good Hope, or any part of the East Indies, by Mr. Guy, at the East-India House. The money to be paid at the time of subscribing, for either 3, 6, 9, or 12 months.

This Work may also be had of 3Iessrs. Aubon and Khaj', Rotterdam.

N

1

;-i :

-

!H

THE

3&eposttorp

OF

ARTS, LITERATURE, FASHIONS,

Manufactures^ 8$c.

THE THIRD SERIES.

Vol. III.

January 1, 1824.

N°- XIII.

VIEWS OF COUNTRY-SEATS.

princess Elizabeth's cottage, old windsok.

In the immediate vicinity of Old Windsor church is situated this ele- gant cottage, the Garden - Front of which is represented in the annexed engraving. Its unpresuming and pic- turesque appearance, combined with the beauty of its situation, would alone have rendered it worth notice; but when to this is added, its being so long the occasional residence of the Princess Elizabeth (now Duchess of Hesse-Homburg), it becomes pecu- liarly interesting. It was here she delighted in diffusing around that exquisite taste for the arts in which she so much excelled.

The ground belonging to this cot- tage is very limited ; but the useful is nevertheless so admirably blended with the agreeable, that it is defici- ent h> nothing that a summer resi- dence of this nature requires. It is Vol, HI. No. XIII.

surrounded by some noble trees, fine in form and richly luxuriant in foli- age, imparting a sequestered feeling to this pretty spot, that well accords with its immediate neighbourhood; and now that the fair owner, who che- rished its beauties and gave a soul to the rural scene, has removed to other climes, this retired spot appears the emblem only of happier days. The reality is gone, perchance never to return. A pensive stillness now re- poses over the scene, broken only by the native notes of the feathered songsters, that here undisturbed pro- long their stay, or the footsteps of the occasional visitor. In spite of the wild luxuriance that now pervades the garden, which forms what may be termed a lawn and pleasure- ground, and notwithstanding the evident want of care, strong indica- B

STOKK-FAKM.

tions still remain of the superior mind that once reigned over it. The view from the principal apartments em- braces this sweet little lawn, filled with luxuriant flowering shrubs, bounded on the one side by trees and shrubs of a powerful growth, in- termixed with the holly and the rose, that finely group with the sombre tints of the evergreens. On the other side is seen, beneath some fine elms, the silvery Thames winding its silent way. A sequestered walk of singular beauty, formed by the over- hanging wood, leads to it wicket that communicates with Grove - House, the property and occasional residence of the Princess at the time she held the cottage. It is a pretty monastic edifice, standing on the verge of Old Windsor church-yard.

In our Repository for March of last year, we had occasion to notice many ingenious works, with some ori- ginal designs of great merit, at Frog- more, by the Princess Elizabeth. Among others, is a classical work, " The Power and Progress of Ge- nius," consisting of a series of etch- ings by herself, and dedicated to her

Majesty. The dedication is so pleas- ing, and speaks so much, that we cannot do better than conclude the article with it.

" The etchings that are now laid at your Majesty's feet would never have 1 been executed, if many of those who ! looked over the drawings had not wished them to be published : but that, my dear- est mother, you will see was impossible ; for it would have opened a door to much criticism, which in every situation is un- pleasant, and particularly in ours. I therefore undertook to do them myself, as they might then pass unnoticed, and protected in the pleasantest manner to me by one whose affections would kindly pardon the faults of the head of the in- ventor — I trust those of the heart will never be known by you, as its first wish has ever been to prove grateful for those talents which you have so tenderly fos- tered and improved; and if they meet the approbation of those friends who will have them, believe me I shall feel that the merit will be less mine than yours, who have occasioned them to be brought forward. I remain, with the greatest respect, your dutiful and affec- tionate daughter, " Elizabeth."

STOKE-FARM,

THE SEAT OF THE EARL OF SEFTON.

Tins charming residence may be truly termed a ferine ornte. Its si- tuation is favourable, and nature has been so far only assisted as to permit its natural beauties to spread over the demesne in uninterrupted ease. The woods, shrubberies, and gar- dens, immediately about the house, are so judiciously arranged as to present many interesting points of view; laying the house partially open to the south, and screening it com- pletely to the north and east, on

which side the offices are situated and planted out, with the exception of some portions, that add to the ge- neral effect of the entire scene.

Our View is of the Front from the lawn, on which side are some of the principal apartments, elegantly fitted up, the windows extending to the floor, forming door-ways, that open beneath a spacious verandah, along which flowering shrubs twine in rich luxuriance, exhibiting, when seen from the apartments, natural festoons

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

3

of the richest colours. The lawn in front is so judiciously laid out with evergreens intermixed with deciduous shrubs, that the greater portion is embellished with rich foliage in the winter season : combined with the verandah, or rather corridor, it forms a pleasing winter walk.

Here is a small park of about forty acres, through which there is a plea- sant drive to the lodge, which is pretty and chaste. It is rendered pleasing by the deep thatched roof, which, overhanging the dwelling, forms a pretty rustic colonnade. The

supports are unbarked stems of trees, around which grow the rose and the jessamine.

The estate was purchased by the late Lord Sefton of a Mr. Johnson. The house was then a mere farm, but served as an occasional resi- dence. The whole of the alterations, both in the house and grounds, have been effected by the present noble owner ; and they have been guided by such taste and judgment, that Stoke-Farm now forms as delightful a retreat as can be desired.

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

TO THE EDITOR, Sfc.

Sin,

So much has been said and written by you lords of the creation, to shew that women are incessantly changing the fashion of their clothes, that one would imagine your own modes were really stationary ; that is to say, in ancient times, for certainly the beaux of the present day alter the shape of their garments nearly, if not quite, as often as the belles; and I believe, if we were inclined to do you the favour you have so often done us, that is, to trace the changes in your dress for some centuries back, they would be found to have been as frequent as our own. As I have a great deal of leisure, and also some taste for these researches, I shall perhaps some time or other give the public an account of the various changes which have taken place in male costume during the last thou- sand years or so. I have already commenced this grand undertaking, and, beginning with the covering for the head, I have traced the various forms of the hat for more than eight

hundred years. I have commenced of course with France, because, as every body knows, that sprightly nation has led the modes since Eu- rope first emerged from barbarism, it would be an injustice not to give her the preference. I have com- pressed this beginning of my under- taking into as brief a space as possi- ble, for the purpose of offering it to your acceptance, since I am desirous to see what reception it will meet with from the public, before I set about completing my voluminous un- dertaking. By inserting this sketch, Mr. Editor, you will give my work a fair chance ; and as a recompence for your politeness, I shall have the ho- nour of dedicating it to you, as soon as it makes its appearance in at least twenty-five volumes folio. I am, sir, your constant reader and very hum- ble servant,

Tehentia Thacemode.

chateau. The first covering that we find re- gularly used for the head by the B 2

4

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

French was called chaperon; it seems to have been a kind of hood attached to the robe, and ornament- ed with a very long tail. Some whim- sical people took a fancy to roll this tail round their heads; a fashion which did not meet with general ap- probation, and which was the cause that the tail was retrenched altoge- ther.

As those elegans who had a fancy for the queue were determined not to wear chaperons without them, they invented a new kind of head- dress for themselves,which was known by the appellation of bonnet, and which differed from the chaperon on- ly in the height, each being made of the same material, which were cloths of different kinds and velvet. It could be thrown back by means of strings. We see models of these head-dresses in the coats of arms of cardinals, archbishops, and bishops.

In a little time the bonnet assumed a new form and a new name : it was called barrette, because of the seams which divided it into compartments.

When a foreign clergyman is pro- moted to the rank of cardinal, it is said that the pope has given him the cardinal's hat; but in reality it is the cap or barrette, which his holiness sends to the sovereign from whose dominion the cardinal is chosen. A cardinal can receive the hat only from the hands of the pope himself.

About the year 1 180, in the reign of Philip Augustus, an alteration took place in the form of the bonnet, which then began to be worn with a brim all round.

Louis IX. (St. Louis) introduced the fashion of hats with large brims turned up.

Philip III. (the Bold) brought in the fashion of wearing a large calotte,

that is, a kind of skull-cap, with a very small-brimmed hat placed on one side.

What may be properly called the chapeau bras was first introduced into France in the reign of Charles le Bel: they were composed of felt, and carried in the hand.

The form of the hat under Philip de Valois is exactly similar to that of the English coal-porter's hat of the present day: its large brim was turned up in front, and was attached to the dress behind.

In the year 1341, three different sorts of hats were worn, under the names of chaperons, bonnets, and cha- peaux.

Under Jean II. (the Good) the crown of the hat was very high, and the brim extremely small. Some of these hats were ornamented with fea- thers.

Until the time of Charles V. hats had been vised only by distinguished people, but in his reign they became common.

The hat of Charles VI. was of the helmet form.

Twenty years afterwards we find that the brim of the hat was cut in points.

Henri le Bon, the Duke of Anjou, generally wore a bonnet; Louis XI. his uncle, wore a very small-brimmed felt hat, over a large calotte. The chapeau in the days of Charles VIII. was ornamented with a panache.

The head-dress of Louis XII. was a cap, the top of which was almost flat, and trimmed with fur. The lords of the court wore caps or hats with high crowns, and brims more or less broad, but always turned up.

Francis I. introduced the singular fashion of adorning the brim of the hat with the coat of arms of the

FLUCTUATIONS IN THE FASHION OF HATS.

wearer. The crown was decorated with a large plume of feathers.

During the reigns of Henry II. Francis Il.Charles IX. and Henry III. the chapeau was displaced by toques of different forms : this mode is said to have been borrowed from the Ita- lians.

Henry IV. wore a high-crowned hat with a small flat brim. This fa- shion was then in use among the Spaniards.

A great change took place in the form of the hat under Louis XIII.; the crown was extremely low, and the brim very large: it was worn on one side.

This fashion was too simple to suit the pompous taste of Louis XIV. : he elevated the crown, and had the brim turned up before and behind. Shortly afterwards he introduced the fashion of the cocked hat, with the button and loop on the left side, so long prevalent all over Europe, and still used in full dress.

Who could have expected to find on the hats of the petits-maitres of those days, an ornament named after the most popular preacher of his time ? But so it was : the zeal and eloquence of the celebrated Bourda- loue made him the fashion ; nothing else was talked of or thought of: ne- vertheless it was very difficult to find any thing about the man of God which could be dragged into the ser- vice of la mode. However, the Pa- risians were determined to call some part of their dress after him ; at last they gave his name to a narrow black band which encircled the crown of the hat, and from that time nobody was seen without a Bourdaloue. But this ornament soon lost its original simplicity; it was worn in gold, and

twisted many times round the crown of the hat.

During the reign of Louis XIV. the hat was always carried under the arm : it was never placed upon the head, because it would have disar- ranged the enormous wig, full curled and powdered, which was an indis- pensable appendage to the fine gen- tleman of that day.

After the death of Louis XIV. wigs a la rcgence began to be fa- shionable. The fore-top of this wig was flat, and consequently a hat might be put on without inconveni- ence. At that period the brims of hats began to be edged with a nar- row gold or silver binding.

Until the middle of Louis XV.'s reign, the brim of the hat was worn turned up and very narrow. The military got tired of this fashion ; they soon passed to the other ex- treme by enlarging the brim enor- mously.

These large hats were not adopted by magistrates nor physicians, nor in short by any of those professions to whose costume a well curled and pow- dered wig had been considered in- dispensable. The danger to which these gentlemen exposed themselves in going about in the coldest wea- ther without hats, made the jokers of those times say, that they valued their lives less than their wigs.

In 1 76*0, the shape of the fashion- able hat was borrowed from the cha- peau called ramponneau, worn by the alehouse-keepers of Paris: this hat had the front corner larger than either of the others.

Some years afterwards the hat took an oblong form : this was called the chapeau a la Suisse.

The French had a kind of mania

6

TltF, OLD nACIIELORS CLOSF,T-MrINDOW.

for every thing that was American during the war between that country and Great Britain, and this mania introduced into France in 1778 the round hat, called chapeau a la Bos- tonnienne.

The jockey hats were also round, but with large brims. In 1783, the crown of the hat was formed quite round, and it took the name of cha- peau au ballon, from the then novel invention of the balloon.

In 178G, a hat with three short corners came into favour, and kept

its place for eight years. In 1790, the crown of the hat became nar- rower at the bottom than the top. In 1794, it resumed its old form, which in 1795 it lost, to take that of the reverse of a broken cone.

From that time, the form of the French hat has changed as often as that of the French bonnet, and the alterations have consequently been too numerous to come within the compass of my present sketch.

T. T.

THE OLD BACHELOR'S CLOSET-WINDOW

There is after all something in that sort of malady half real, half imaginary, which the French call en- nui: till now I regarded it as the off- spring of an enervated body and an ill-directed mind. I cannot admit this to be my own case ; and yet I feel those tormenting imps, vulgarly yclept blue devils, amply revenging on me, by the horrors they inflict at this moment, the doubts I have so of- ten expressed of their existence. How shall I get rid of them? Suppose I try to write — but what? I am too lit- tle of a savant to treat of scientific matters. Light sketches then? It will not do, I have no turn for badi- nage. Moral essays? Worse and worse, nobody would read them. My own history? It is a blank. What then can I write? I have it: my clo- set-window will furnish me with some- thing. When we write or speak on a subject that we like, we are always eloquent: let me see then whether I shall not be able to make something of my closet-window.

For the first forty years of my life I looked for happiness to my fellow- creatures ; I was often disappointed,

but disappointment did not extinguish hope, and I consoled myself for each failure, with the thought that my next essay would be more successful. At last the moment came when the phantom that I had so long pursued vanished for ever, and I derived from the wreck of all my hopes only the knowledge, that he who trusts to his fellow-creatures for happiness leans upon a broken reed. The lesson was bitter but salutary, though it was long ere I could profit by it. The time at length came when I could bring myself to look at the resources my Creator had given me, and to bless him in humble thankfulness for the means of finding, if not happi- ness, at least content.

Years have now passed since I placed my comforts within a narrow bound : my books, my walks, the ca- resses of my faithful dog, and the at- tachment of my old servant, these are helps to soften the tedium of life ; but perhaps a still greater is my clo- set-window. It is there that I find the grand stimulus of existence ; it is through it that I am enabled to ex- ercise the only power we ought to

THE OLD BACHELORS CLOSET-WINDOW.

covet in this world, that of doing good. My reader, whoever he may chance to be, will smile when he is told, that the only prospect my clo- set-window affords, is a garret inha- bited by the meanest class of people, and that for the last fifteen years of my life I have devoted some portion of every day to watch their motions. But before he condemns what he will call my folly, let him look at his own pursuits: he might perhaps be worse employed than in watch- ing his poor neighbours with a view to assist their necessities, if their con- duct deserved it. Oh ! what a les- son might the proud, the dissipated, the unfeeling, and the avaricious re- ceive, if, like me, they daily viewed human misery without disguise!

Sunday. — It is three weeks to-day since I have been able to take my usual walk, and for a fortnight of that time, the garret, my grand re- source, has been untenanted. I have heard of a man who found the hor- rors of captivity softened by watch- ing the motions of a neighbouring mouse, and when it disappeared, he solaced himself by the hope of soon seeing another. It is with feelings somewhat similar to this poor cap- tive's, that I look from the window of my closet for the arrival of a new tenant in the opposite garret. As to the scenes that I have witnessed, I scarcely know, now that my moment- aiy fit of authorship has in part sub- sided, how to portray them. The miseries of the poor are, alas! wide- ly different from those scenes of fan- cied woe on which the imagination delights to dwell. " Ah, Peter ! what, a new-comer to-morrow, do you say ? Let us see then to-morrow what For- tune will send us."

Monday. — Ah! there is a tenant

indeed! and such a creature! Who in heaven's name can she be? Grace- ful, interesting, so young too, for she seems scarcely seventeen, and yet already the bloom of youth and health appears extinct. My window is so placed that I could see her without being myself discovered. It is evi- dent that she was not born to inhabit a garret ; and at her age what can have reduced her to it ? Can it be a lapse from chastity ? Fie upon the uncharitable idea! She looks too pure to deserve the suspicion.

Ten at night. — I do not know that I ever returned to the window so of- ten as this day, and I am afraid my doubts were too well founded. This girl has done nothing all day but write a letter : that has a bad look, doubly a bad look, because there was something in her covering her face with her hand after she had finished it, and in the quick and hurried step with which she paced her room when she had sealed it, that more than half persuaded me she is not what I hoped.

Tuesday. — I believe I am an un- charitable old fellow after all. She has been busy this morning in put- ting her miserable apartment in or- der, and afterwards she sat down to read : from the appearance of the book, and the seriousness of her de- meanour, I think it must have been a prayer-book. That looks well : but why does not she work?

Poor girl, the sight of her dinner has completely spoiled mine — a crust of bread and a glass of water. In- nocent or guilty, I must come to her assistance; at all events I can pre- vent her plunging deeper into vice. I could knock my brains out for ever harbouring a thought to this girl's disadvantage : my life for it, she will

8

THE OLD BACHELORS CLOSET-WINDOW.

come like gold out of the fire. Just as I bad written the above, and was going from the window, I turned to take another peep at her : I saw her start — nay, I could almost fancy I heard her scream at the entrance of a fashionable-looking puppy. Oh! how I regretted that I could not hear as well as see from my closet- window ! But their gestures were suf- ficiently expressive; there was no misunderstanding them. I fancied I could hear every word the handsome rascal said as he talked to her in an attitude of the most earnest entreaty: at last he knelt, and she — oh ! what a beautiful scorn there was in the air with which she repulsed him! He pointed to the miserable meal which his presence prevented her from fi- nishing: yes, yes, no doubt he con- trasted it with the dainties which she might purchase at the price of infamy.

What would I give for a picture of her at this moment, as she stands with a calm severity of aspect, that speaks more than volumes of re- proach ? Ah ! he offers her a purse ! O heaven! she pauses. No, poor girl, I wronged her — it was but to give vent to her tears. She has sot rid of the scoundrel. How dignified she looked as she held the door open for him to leave the room ! 'Tis well the puppy went, or old as I am, I believe I should have set scandal at defiance by going and turning him out. I must get my trusty Mrs. Meanwell to go immediately to this girl; my Peter would be too clumsy a blockhead to be employed in re- lieving her.

Wkdn esday. — How provoking ! Where can this girl be ? She must have gone out early this morning, and she is not yet returned, though it is near ten, and I expect Mrs.

Meanwell every moment. More vexa- tion ! the good woman is in the coun- try, and wont return for some days.

Twelve o'clock, and no sign. Yes, there she is at the end of the street, tripping lightly along with a bundle. What does she turn back for? Good girl, it was to assist a poor blind man in crossing. I hug myself on hav- ing found a treasure.

She must have been abroad in search of needle-work, for she has been sewing all day. I took several peeps at her, but found her con- stantly employed.

Eight in the evenhg. — She has had a female visitor, a well-dressed wo- man, who staid with her a long time. I know not why, but I have taken a dislike to this woman; a causeless one it must be, for there was nothing in her appearance to inspire it, and she seemed to regard the girl with much kindness : but yet there was something, at least I fancied so, that did not appear natural in her man- ner. She was too caressing ; and the poor girl appeared to think so too, for I observed her shrink from the woman several times as she took her hand. After all, I am afraid I dis- like her only because I think she has anticipated me; for I saw her give this young thing money, and the girl took it with an air of modesty and thank- fulness. I suppose by that she will not be long my neighbour, but I must find out where she goes to.

If I did not know myself secure against the power of love, I should be afraid that even the frost of age had not defended my heart against this girl's attractions. I must find a name for her till I can learn her own. Suppose I call her Pamela ? I think it is applicable to her situation. Very well, her name shall be Pamela.

THE OLD BACHELORS CLOSET-WINDOW.

9

Thursday.—* What a fool have I been to place any reliance on the virtue of a woman ! The girl is naught, stark naught. Oh ! what a damning proof has she given me that deceit is the unalienable inheritance of wo- man ! With all her seeming innocence, she has turned out the veriest wan- ton: but I will be methodical. This morning while I was looking at her at work, I saw a shabby-looking young man come into her room : no sooner did she see him, than flinging down her work, she flew into his arms with evident transport. Then seating her- self by his side, with both her hands in his, she listened to him with such looks of tenderness ; and presently springing up, she ran to a drawer, and took out a purse : no doubt it contained the money which she re- ceived yesterday. The fellow made a show of refusal, but she would not be refused; she forced it into his hand, which she held clasped in her own, and pressed it to her lips. Her paramour thanked her with an em- brace. At that moment the guilty pair were startled by a knocking at the door; it was plain enough from the gestures of the fellow that he was afraid of being seen, but his mis- tress soon found a hiding-place: she crammed him into a closet, or rather cupboard, where one would suppose you could hardly have hid a cat. Unfortunate creature ! so young and so depraved ! Yet she is not harden- ed, for there was a guilty confusion in her air as she seated her visitor, who was the same lady that had been with her yesterday. She did not stay many minutes, to my great dis- appointment, for I should have wish- ed the fellow to have been half smo- thered at least. He hastened away Vol HI. No. XIII.

directly afterwards, no doubt to spend the money which he had ob- tained from the unfortunate wicked girl.

Four o'clock. — How is this? That woman has returned, and seems to be talking angrily to Pamela, who is in tears. What paper can it be that she offers her, which the other so indignantly refuses? Oh! she evi- dently threatens her! What an ex- pression of insolent vulgarity there is in her gestures and demeanour! She goes out slapping the door with violence — Hold! she is returned, but evidently to no purpose. W'hat can be the reason of this change in her behaviour? Has she discovered the unfortunate creature's guilt? But that cannot be : there was nothing in her manner that marked a virtuous in- dignation; her gestures were those of a vulgar scold.

Fuiday. — To-morrow Meanwell returns, and I am heartily glad of it ; for I know not why, but I cannot re- solve to resign this unfortunate crea- ture to her fate. She has been at her needle all clay, but it was evident that she often laid down her work to weep.

Saturday. — I don't know what to make of this : there are two ill-look- ing fellows, I am sure they are bai- liffs, sauntering up and down, and looking very often at Pamela's win- dow. What, can that be the woman who visits Pamela speaking to them? It surely is ; but she can never mean to arrest the unfortunate girl? By heaven, she does though, for the whole three have just entered the house ! No, bad as the unfortunate girl is, she shall not be dragged to prison!

You sha'n't hinder me, you little C

10

THE OLD BACHELOR'S CLOSET-WIXDOW.

witch! I must write, I must finish the first sketch I have ever made from my closet-window. Yes, my dear reader, you shall know what happened after I flung down my pen, and darted across the way with an agility, which made my man Peter, who followed close at my heels, hless himself. I arrived at the very mo- ment that the catchpoles had laid their hands on the horror-struck girl. " What is your demand on this young woman?" said I to the bailiff, who looked at his employer, and she darted a fiend-like glance at me, while she replied, " The young- woman and I can settle the matter without your interference." — " Oh ! no, sir! no, indeed I will have nothing to do with that woman, I would ra- ther go to prison!" — " You have then borrowed money from this wo- man?"— " To be sure she has." — " No, I have not; I thought it was given to me." — " You knew well enough on what terms it was given," cried the procuress, who now, exas- perated at seeing herself on the point of losing her prey, thought she had no measures to keep; and it was not without threats of punishment that I at length compelled her to receive her money, and leave me with the weeping girl, whom she pronounced to be well calculated to dupe an old fool like me.

I have already told you that my closet-window has procured me some pleasant moments, but all the good I have ever derived from it was no- thing compared to this. No wonder I could not look on the poor Sophia — Pamela now no more — without find- ing my heart drawn to her; but in order that you may know, good read- er, why it was drawn, you and I must be a little better acquainted.

I have said, that during the first forty years of my life, I looked to my fellow-creatures for happiness; the last and bitterest disappointment I experienced from them, was in the conduct of my only sister, who was to me in place of a daughter, for she was twenty years younger than my- self. She was courted by a liber- tine, who I knew would render her miserable; I told her so, she disbe- lieved me, and ran away with him. I renounced her in the first moments of my anger, and before my unbro- therly resentment had subsided, she died in giving birth to a girl. Her death in extinguishing my resent- ment renewed my affection. I would have taken her children, for she left also a son, who was five years old at the time of her decease ; but her hus- band nQt only refused to hold com- munion with me, but took his chil- dren abroad, in order to avoid me, nor did I ever learn their fate.

Alas! it was indeed a hard one! Neglected by their father, who con- sumed his substance in brutal riot, their childhood and their youth were alike deprived of the advantages and the pleasures to which they were en- titled. The ill health and ruined fortunes of their father brought him at last to a sense of his injustice to his children, but it was when the power of making reparation for it was no more. His death separated the orphans. Sophia accepted a si- tuation nsj'emme de chambre to a la- dy ; while her brother Edward, trust- ing for a subsistence to his pen, in- dulged his fancy with the hope of soon sharing with her the competence which he trusted his exertions would procure. He was unsuccessful, and but for the scanty earnings of his sister, must have wanted bread. For-

T0UJ0UI15 FIDIX!;," &C.

11

tune had not yet exhausted her ma- lice ; the beauty of Sophia captivated the libertine husband of her lady : she quitted his family to escape his importunities, but the wretch, finding her inaccessible to temptation, hoped to conquer her by terror. The vile woman from whose hands I rescued her was his agent; she had intro- duced herself to the unsuspecting girl, whom she offered to take into her service, and insisted upon giving her ten pounds to provide necessa- ries. No sooner had she obtained a confession that the money was dis- posed of, than she thought herself sure of her prey ; but at the mo- ment in which she hoped to grasp it, Providence sent to the aid of the de- solate girl the only relation she had who possessed at once the power and the will to help her.

When this female fiend left the room, the poor weeping girl raised her eyes with such a look of pious thankfulness to heaven, that nothing short of the evidence of my own senses could have made me believe her guilty. " I know all," cried I, interrupting her as she began to thank me, " I have seen all, seen you in the arms of your gallant." —

" My gallant?" — " Yes, him whom you caressed so fondly only two days back, whom you hid in a closet; to

whom you even gave " — "What!

my brother?"

" Your brother! My God, is it possible?"

" Indeed it is most true : only hear me."

I did hear. O heaven, with what delight I heard a tale that convinced me I was no longer an isolated being! Need I say that the misfortunes of those poor children are at an end, and that in spite of my declaration of never looking to any human being for happiness, I cannot help fancying that they will gild the last days of my life ? I am now going with them to reside in the country ; but I shall not have a closet-window, for two reasons: first, I see by my last ad- venture, that whatever views we may take of the actions of our fellow- creatures, we never can feel con- vinced that our judgment has not been deceived by appearances; se- condly, I shall now have an almoner, to whose good sense and tenderness of heart I can trust more confidently than to my own eyes, or to my closet- window.

" TOU JOURS FIDELE;"

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY.

I have ever considered society in France as in a state of great demo- ralization: how should it be otherT wise? So lately emerged from a re- volution in which all the bad passions of the soul have been untied and given as it were to the winds, we can- i not hope that the nicer distinctions of moral restraint should there be re- , garded with much reverence: hence i those social ties which to our minds

form the great charm of life, are little appreciated; and provided the tide of pleasure but continues to flow, the consequences of dissipation and in- discretion are comparatively unheed- ed. Far be it from me to imagine, that goodness or virtue is exclusively to be found amongst ourselves ; I am sure it is not so, but that every coun- try possesses its portion of good or evil: vet it cannot be denied, that the C 2

XI

TOUJOUUS FIDELE

great mass of the French people are contaminated by a spirit of gallantry and intrigue, become so general from example and long practice, that, in a greater or less degree, it pervades every breast, from the prince down to the humble peasant. In fact, to | be deficient in this kind of feeling, or I backward in exercising it, would but gain a man the appellation of a stu- pid sort of fellow, who knows but lit- tle of the world.

I need scarcely observe that it is not an uncommon thing for a French- woman, whether married or single, to have a lover, and to regard a con- nection of this nature without the least remorse or compunctious visit- ing of conscience. Should chance discover her amours, and force her to quit the circle in which she once moved, and where she enjoyed the reputation of being virtuous, she does not consider such discovery as a great drawback on her happiness; she has still many resources of plea- sure left to compensate for this mis- fortune : she can always find a very extensive society of females precisely in her own situation, in which she can yet play her part, and seek some consolation for the rank she has emit- ted. I mean that class of women known as famines galantas, a class not exactly tolerated in England, where the moment a woman's virtue is known to be forfeited, her stand in society is for ever lost, where scorn is the fruit of error, and utter seclu- sion the only abode of tranquillity for fallen virtue.

Not so in France ; here the mis- tress of a prince or a duke is often surrounded by very good society. I know an instance of the sort, where a married woman living with her hus- band and family, but notoriously the

mistress of a nobleman of the first rank, is in the habit of receiving a great many of the fashionables of Paris into her circle ; and it is to this kind of society to which I allude, and which exists to a very great extent, that women of equivocal character can always resort, in exchange for those places where the observance of nice rules of propriety has refused to grant her any further welcome.

In this species of society, the su- perficial observer might suppose he stood in the midst of a temple of chastity as well as pleasure: every thing is here found that can charm the ear or please the eye; a great display of beauty, wit, and talent, and, as may be well supposed, a very great share of liberality of sentiment. Here hovers the shadow of virtue though the substance is fled; in appearance here is every thing severity can re- quire, decorum of conduct, refined politeness, cultivated and polished manners. It is to this sphere a woman flies whose character becomes ques- tionable; here is both a substitute and compensation for the sacrifice she has made ; and provided that so- vereign disturber, ennui, does not overtake her, provided reflection is stifled in the busy round of pleasure, she thinks it an indispensable duty to leave the work of repentance for the solitary season of old age.

This toleration of gallantry, if it may be so termed, joined to the num- berless difficulties which rise up in opposition to marriage, helps to re- move many of the scruples of the mind, and works its corruption by almost imperceptible means. The danger of such society to a young female is obvious ; the pernicious tones of gal- lantry are breathed into her ear at an age when the judgment cannot

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY,

13

withstand the combat of the pas- sions; she is in the midst of compa- nions of her own sex, whose precept and example tend to efface every spark of moral feeling. I once over- heard an instructive lesson given by a more experienced adviser of her own sex to a young lady whom an in- discreet mother had introduced into one of these gay circles. She* told her young pupil, that to be loved was the chief object of a woman's life, and that all her cares and studies should be directed to this end : that if she but succeeded in reciprocally exciting and bestowing affection but for a period of three years, the great object of her life was then attained, and she might remain contented with having had her share of happiness in this world: that as to marriage, it rarely happened that any couple lov- ed each other long, in cases even where love had been the sole object of their union; but when a match was formed from interest or ambition, which was in fact the only good ex- cuse she had ever heard for matri- mony, it was useless to expect any thing but perfect misery and wretch- edness: that discord was the univer- sal fruit of marriage ; for her part she had experienced it, but her hus- band was, thank God, no more, and rather than again endure the wrang- ling she had once suffered, she could wish that some dreadful catastrophe might overtake her if she was ever guilty of a second such folly: it was much better to be out of the world, than suffer dissension, from which we could not free ourselves, to embitter and destroy life. This able instruc- tress added, that it was far different between a woman and her lover: that she was bound to him by no tie but that of affection, and whenever that

tie was dissolved, they were both at liberty to roam where they pleased: that true love never could exist where the will was bound by the fetters of wedlock.

This anathema against marriage, thought I, and this recommendation of intrigue, is a fit sermon to be pro- nounced by such a mistress and in such a place ; the lesson is likely to have its full weight in a mind per- haps prone to high romantic feeling; it is a delusion Well calculated to lead astray one who cannot yet foresee or comprehend the result of the moral attempted to be inculcated.

How is it possible then, if society is thus constituted in France, to ar- rest the progress of contamination? A great laxity of morals, however deplorable, must always exist; and such circles will of course find nu- merous advocates and supporters of both sexes, so long as they shall con- tinue to be a matter as well of neces- sity as infinite gratification. Indeed it must be confessed, it holds out extraordinary charms to the male sex : the fascinations of Frenchwomen do, in spite of every thing, render them truly amiable, with all their faults and follies ; they possess in a superior de- gree the art of making themselves beloved; their seeming artlessness, their apparent flow of soul, which, whether it be assumed or felt, must be acknowledged to wean us into a fbrgetfulness, that makes time pass delightfully in their company; their classical elegance and taste of cos- tume ; their very forms, serried so as to approach closely to statuary beau- ty ; their gracefulness, their chit-chat, their little flatteries and caresses, are all sufficient to unbend the resolution of the most hardened stoic. Certain it is, that if sin is to be pardoned in

14

" TOUJOUKS FIDCLK;"

tile next world, only a Frenchwoman dare plead its forgiveness.

Chance introduced me to the fa- mily of , one of the old noblesse,

whose house was the rendezvous of this class of French nobility, who it must be confessed bear about them the marks of good-breeding and true politeness. The marquis had been an emigrant during the revolution, but the restoration of the Bourbons had given him back part of his pa- trimonial possessions, and enabled him to exhibit that share of style and elegance, which both suited his rank and evinced his good taste. His wife was a lady, who, though advanced in years, still retained all the traits of former beauty ; her mind was in no- wise impaired ; and from her extreme amiability, she had contrived to ren- der her house a most agreeable re- sort for both young and old. I was a pretty constant frequenter of her soirees, where the lively conversa- tion of the women, their fondness for dancing, music, and all sorts of gaiety, had made a deep impression on me, and seduced me so far as to throw off a great part of my natio- nality, and enter into all the spirit of these entertainments; till, what with the pleasing encomiums that were sometimes bestowed on me, and the taste I had actually formed for these amusements, I had almost forgotten that I was an Englishman. An inci- dent, however, occurred, which awak- ened me once more to my accustom- ed reflection, and convinced me how necessary it was sometimes to think, even amidst the dazzling of fetes And the busy revelry of enjoyments.

Among the females I had met at these parties, there were two sisters, who were particularly noticed for their distinguished beauty and grace-

fulness of manner; they were of that order of beings which the eye im- mediately singles out, and which the mind contemplates and dwells on, as above the ordinary level of the hu- man race. Among men as well as women, Nature seems to have held up some for more general admiration than others ; the divine marks which she has stamped in their physiogno- my are at once so striking and so beatiful, that we become insensibly captive to their movements ; the mind is awed by the contemplation of their adornments, and we only awake from the reverie with inspired feelings of love or admiration.

Of this class of beings were the two sisters to whom I allude: they seemed formed to excite sensations of love in every beholder ; their con- versation, their endearing manners, were such as riveted the senses still more closely than their personal charms. Unfortunately, calumny, which seems to be the growth of | every clime, had been busy with their I reputations ; but this I immediately I ascribed to the known jealousy that I always exists against superior beauty J and merit. My particular friend, who i accompanied me, and who had be- i come perfectly enamoured of the el- der sister, participated in my opinion: he observed, " that it needed only extraordinary attraction to excite ex- traordinary scandal ; that the general feeling of the world went to depre- ciate qualities beyond its reach ; and that to be celebrated for any parti- cular distinction or talent, was sure to excite the bitter tongue of envy and reproach."

My friend's affection became daily more wound up in the elder of these ladies. He was a young man of dis- tinguished elegance and beauty of

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY.

15

person, of a mind replete with ge- nerous and lofty sentiments, an ar- dent admirer of a fine woman, in short of a highly elevated soul. It was impossible for two such beings as Amelia and himself to meet without loving each other. Nature seemed to have assimilated them together; both so young, so lovely, and so lov- ing; for but a very short time had elapsed after their first introduction, ere they exchanged vows of mutual and irrevocable affection; Their love seemed not to be of an ordinary de- scription ; their whole souls were ab- sorbed in the passion. I regarded them as two beings whose feelings and affections were scarcely of a sublunary order ; they almost loved too much. Should any thing hap- pen to interrupt this affection, I dreaded to think it must cost the life of one or the other, or perhaps of both.

I am accustomed to reflect a great deal, and never to consider the things of this world as too certain: human happiness I know to be a frail reed shaken by every storm, apt to be shivered by every blast; and there was a melancholy which seemed at times to usurp Amelia's bosom, that thrilled, I know not why, a most gloomy foreboding to my soul, and left on me an impression of most un- happy angury.

Indeed my friend would often com- plain to me of this melancholy which she felt, and which he had taken great pains to dispel, but without ef- fect. In their solitary rambles, when he poured forth all his soul to her, and told her his life was made of the love he bore her, often did he con- jure her to shake off this sorrow, which she never accounted for, far- ther than as a feeling of her nature

which she could not repress. He im- plored her not to shed a gloom over his happiness, nor to fill his bosom with presentiments so discouraging to their love. Beaufort generally suc- ceeded in dispelling those feelings; and on this occasion, after having re- stored her mind to perfect compla- cency, she again renewed the pro- mise of unalterable affection, and consented to an immediate union.

I, who am not an advocate for rash attachments, was always over-ruled in my reasons against this speedy con- clusion of a business which, I thought, required much reflection. I imagined that some knowledge of disposition and character was necessary before any reasonable hopes of happiness could be entertained: but I was told I had no soul for love ; and that " he who did not love at first sight never, loved at all;" till this sort of reason- ing quieted all remonstrance on my part, and although I looked with pain on a connection I mistrusted, I was still obliged to cease from offer- ing further remark.

About this period, it happened that we were invited to a ball at a c/tateau not very distant from Paris, in the neighbourhood of which one or two regiments of hussars were quartered. The young ladies were likewise to be there. Its magnifi- cence was spoken of as something likely to surpass, in point of splen- dour, all we had ever witnessed of the kind; in fact, it did surpass all the fetes of the sort that had lately taken place. The brilliancy of the uniforms of the officers who had been invited in great numbers on this occasion, the profusion of ornaments that, glittered in the ladies' dresses, the great share of beauty and fashion assembled, and the superb manner

10

TOUJOUItS FIDftLU;

in which the whole suite of rooms was decorated, all contributed to render the place more like a fairy scene than one of real life.

It is said that a woman's beauty is put to the test when placed amidst a number of beauties of her own sex. Amelia suffered nothing from this comparison ; both she and her sister stood pre-eminently marked for their superior elegance even in this extensive circle, and at every corner was heard the buzz of inquir- ing admiration. Every one was anx- ious to dance with them, but Beau- fort very naturally obtained this fa- vour from Amelia much oftener than any other, which seemed to excite some share of jealousy among the rest of the candidates, and particu- larly in a young officer of hussars, who eyed him during all the turns of a quadrille in a manner which I thought bespoke a passion rankling at his soul, fraught with a disagree- able result.

Fatigued with dancing, my friend withdrew to the card-room to amuse himself at tcarte. Chance, I believe, led the young officer I have just al- luded to (and whom for distinction's sake I shall call Delessert) to the same room ; and in the course of play, Beaufort and himself became op- posed to each other in the game. Beaufort lost the stake, and with- drawing his glove to pay over the money, he discovered a diamond ring on his finger, which seemed to light up the face of Delessert with astonishment and dismay.

This ring Amelia had given to Beaufort in the hour she plighted her faith to him. " With it," said she, " I give you my heart, and whilst you wear it, and continue to prize it, I can never cease to love you : if

ever you part with it, I shall consi- der you wish to free yourself from the attachment 1 bear towards you."

The words of a mistress are always sacred to a lover's ear: to Beaufort then how much more dear was this gift than any thing he possessed on earth ! Delessert pretended to admire the ring, and asked permission to look at it : this was refused. " I dare not displace it from my finger," said Beaufort. — " And why refuse so trifling a request ? It would give me infinite pleasure if you would but lend it me for an instant." This was without avail. — " I wonder, sir, at your earnestness to look at a ring which certainly cannot interest you much." — " Sir," answered Delessert, " let us retire to another part of the room, that we may converse further on this subject." My friend imme- diately complied. " That ring, sir," continued Delessert, " closely resem- bles one I gave my mistress ; it bears a device within it, ' toujouks fi- DELE.' You must either resign it, or die to-morrow ere the morning dawn." — " Then I must die indeed, sir, for never will I resign it whilst I have breath ;" and then presenting his card, he added, " I shall be glad to meet you, sir, the instant the ball is finished, that we may definitively ar- range this affair."

On my friend's reappearance in the ball-room, I was rather struck with his altered features, and plainly saw that something deeply agitated his soul. Perhaps it was at this mo- ment that a doubt of Amelia's faith first flashed across his mind. I taxed him with being disturbed. " You have," said I, " a disorganized air ; something has happened to you." He answered that it was mere weariness, and begged me to finish the dance;

A SKETCH OF FRENCH SOCIETY.

17

for I was at that moment the partner of Amelia's sister in a quadrille, who, I confess, had likewise entangled my heart, and I began earnestly to think I was half in love. The dance fi- nished, soon did the first words of Beaufort restore me to my senses, by dispelling all my love for the sis- ter. He related to me what had passed. " O my prophetic soul !" I perceived there was more in this affair than my friend would be wil- ling to believe ; but the storm was now raised, and it was necessary to weather it out. He told me of the rendezvous he had given Delessert as soon as the ball ended, and begged me to act as his friend on this occa- sion.

The night was growing late, and we returned to the hotel in the neigh- bouring village, where we had taken beds. Soon after we entered, De- lessert and his friend, an officer of his own regiment, made their appear- ance. " Sir," said Delessert to my friend, " let us speak frankly to- gether; our negociation may be ter- minated in a few words. Have you any pretensions to the lady from whom you received the ring I saw on your finger? If so, I will not beg you to renounce her; I have too high an opinion of your courage to expect it; the life of one or the other can alone decide the point. But I must observe to you, that the lady is my mistress ; she has been so for upwards of a twelvemonth. I adore her be- yond life ; my devotion to her has proved it. I have twice braved death for her sake, and have been twice wounded: six months of anguish on a bed of sickness from the wounds I have received have taught me to know that I love her. It was the Vol. III. No. XIII.

thought of her alone, and the idea that the dangers I had encountered for her might bind her to me, that roused me into life again : still I am aware she is unfaithful to me, though I have sacrificed fortune, friends, and health for her sake. To be near her is the only joy I know on earth. I love her to distraction, and will never endure the thought of being supplanted by another."

" Hold, sir!" said Beaufort ; " there is no necessity for adding falsehood to insolence : you have said enough already to rouse my indignation ; I shall retire, and leave the rest for my friend to settle with yours." Both the principals after this quitted the room. Independently of any other obstacle, too much had been said to leave the slightest hope of accom- modation, and blood was now to be shed before any further word could be spoken.

Delessert's friend, who I really believe regretted the turn the affair had taken, and whose object and wish was to have spared a sacrifice of life if possible, first broke silence after the pause that had ensued. He said there was one point on which he wished to be satisfied before he ac- companied his friend to the ground, which was, to be assured of the iden- tity of the ring; for in fact there might exist many rings similar to the one which Beaufort wore. He asked if it bore the device of " toujouhs fidelk," and was answered in the affirmative. We then proceeded to arrange the meeting for the following morning. It was agreed that they should fire together by signal, at the usual distance of twelve paces, and | it fell to my lot to give the word. i But a new difficulty here presented D

18

TOUJOURS 1'IDELK;

itself: no pistols were at hand; this was unfortunate in the extreme: a servant, however, was dispatched to Paris, who, mounted on a fleet horse, returned by daybreak with a case I had left at my hotel there.

It was a soft morning in the early part of autumn; the day seemed to dawn with a mildness peculiar to the season ; the sun was just rearing its head, as if to witness the tragic scene that was about to ensue. The place of rendezvous was a wood about a mile from the chateau. As we pro- ceeded in our carriage to the spot, I could not help contrasting the happy countenances of the peasantry pro- ceeding to market, with the feelings that agitated my breast. Happy crea- tures! thought I, if ye are far re- moved from the luxuries and enjoy- ments of the great, ye are also far removed from their cares and annoy- ances : the pleasures which fill your bosoms are perhaps not so exquisite as those which occupy the elegant world, but then your griefs are not so poignant; your injuries are for- gotten in a day; your dissensions are healed, as they are formed, by a word ! That stern notion called honour does not teach you bravely to shed your fellow-creature's blood to rid your- selves of a rival, or to give a proof ©f your courage !

We arrived on the spot a few minutes before the time appointed : our adversaries were not yet there, so that we had a fttw moments' leisure for conversation. " If I fall," said Beaufort, giving me his watch, " I beg you to preserve this in memory of your friend. Bear this.," said he, giving me his portrait, " to Amelia, and tell her to cherish the recollec- tion of one who, had lie survived, would have thought the longest life

too short to be spent in devotion to her happiness." I rallied him as being too desponding, and said, " that I still hoped the affair would not terminate fatally." He observed, that he was perfectly resigned to whatever might happen, for he felt the inward conviction that he was most unjustly provoked to this com- bat.

By this time Delessert and his friend arrived on the ground, and apologized for having detained us. He said he had one request to make, which he hoped would be acceded to: that whatever the result of this affair might be, the cause for which they had met might for ever remain secret. I would not bind myself to any promise on the part of Beaufort, but contented myself with saying, that if nothing transpired to render an explanation of the affair necessary, I should certainly not reveal it : but this was a matter which must be en- tirely left to circumstances and my own discretion. He observed it was the protection of Amelia's character which induced him to make the re- quest ; but as it did not appear by his rash proceedings that he could have considered this as an object of great importance, all farther conver- sation was waved. The ground was immediately taken, the pistols were respectively handed to each party, and the signal agreed on given. Both fired together, and Delessert received his antagonist's shot in his right breast. He staggered and fell to the ground. We ran towards him, and expressed a hope that the wound was not mortal. " I do not think it is," said he; and addressing himself to Beaufort, he observed, " Should this wound prove my death, I freely for- give you. The love I bear to Amelia

A SKKTCII OF FllKNCII SOCIETY.

19

never could brook the thought of a rival. I know that my affection is not repaid with the constancy it me- rits, but I must prove to her that she can never encourage another with impunity. I have some title to her affection. She bears a pledge within

her " Here his voice became

much enfeebled; he murmured the words " Toujours fidele," and fainting from loss of blood, was borne from the spot.

Regret that a fellow-creature's life had perhaps been sacrificed ren- dered us immoveable for some mo- ments : but the recollection that my best friend was still preserved to me suggested the thought of immediate flight. Beaufort spurned the idea, and was determined to await the con- sequence of the event whatever it might be. " Let us remove," said I, " at least till the nature of his wound is ascertained : a few days may enable us to decide what course to take; our safety is endangered." — " No, not for an instant," was his re- ply ; " Fate may do her worst! Why am I spared for a life of wretched- ness ? His dying words are not to be discredited ; she is his mistress, and I have been grossly deceived."

A tumult was now gathering in his bosom, the pain of which can only be felt by those who have had the misfortune to lose " at one fell swoop" every thing they prized on earth. The world was now to him but one uniform blank, dull waste; all his fond projects of delight were changed to wild despair. A woman's infide- lity was about to complete that ha- voc, which, but a few moments be- fore, I rejoiced that the pistol had spared.

The news of a duel having taken place was very soon spread, and cu-

riosity was on the alert to ascertain J the cause. Rumour assigned a thou- sand reasons equally ridiculous and untrue; various were the means em- ployed to extort the circumstances of the case, but without effect.

I was now perfectly assured in my j own mind, that the tale exactly as j Delessert had related it was true, and lamented his absurd infatuation j for a woman, who, notwithstanding j any favours she might have conferred, had now evidently become changed and unfaithful to him, and was wil- ling to rid herself of an obnoxious lover, even at the expence of his life. But most of all I deplored the depravity of a woman who, under the mask of innocence, could hope or seek to entrap the heart of an un- suspecting confiding man. Did she seek to consummate this union in the rank deception in which it was begun ? Could this be love to Beaufort, to encourage his addresses at the im- minent peril of his life from a des- perate rival, who had fought so many duels for her sake? Delessert's fond- ness for Amelia too filled me with disgust ; I ceased to pity him : his wanton exposure of her character, however true it might be, seemed a base means of securing her to him- self. A suspicion of his conduct had perhaps reached her ears, and made her resolve on ridding herself of so dangerous a connection.

The wound which Delessert had received was fortunately pronounced not mortal, and his health continued to improve slowly. Not so with Beaufort; the wound which had been planted in his mind preyed dreadfully on his feelings. His fine form, the admiration of every beholder, wasted visibly. His bright eye, which, had penetrated mp.r.y a heart, grew dim D 2

20

TOUJOUKS FIDELK," &C.

and hollow. His spirits, which had rendered him the charm of every so- ciety in which he moved, had sunk into utter dejection. He totally se- cluded himself from the world, yield- ing entirely to that grief which had taken such deep root in his soul.

The only person who did not long remain ignorant of the reason for which Beaufort and Delessert had met on the fatal morning subsequent to the ball was Amelia herself, whose conscience, now awake to all the hor- rors of her situation, easily interpret- ed the cause of every thing which had happened. From that moment she shrunk from public gaze, and be- came filled with anxiety and fears lest the affair should become known : so great was the shock her feelings experienced on this occasion, that her life was at one period despaired of. But she did not rightly know or appreciate the sentiments of those who possessed her secret: death would have been preferred in its most frightful shape, rather than that one word should ever have escaped the lips of Beaufort which suspicion might even have glanced at. His love for Amelia unfortunately re- mained, though she had ceased to deserve it.

I endeavoured to make him shake off so unworthy a feeling, and point- ed out to him the folly of entertain- ing one spark of affection for a de- graded woman. " My friend," said I, " you have much to blame your- self for in thisbusiness: it is your own thoughtlessness and want of know- ledge of the world that renders your situation so unhappy; you must not be surprised at being deceived. Con- sider for a moment the nature of her conduct towards you, and you must cease to think of her but with feelings

of detestation. It is worse than de- ception, it is complete criminality: she consented to receive your love at the moment her honour and virtue were irretrievably lost; and that not only at the price of your happiness, but perhaps of your life, which she would not have blushed to have made the sacrifice of her guilty passion, and thus have committed the crime of murder."

By this and the like reasoning I hoped to restore his mind to its for- mer tranquillity, but his affliction was too deeply seated to be easily remov- ed. " With all the enormity of her conduct," said Beaufort, " I love her beyond what I have power to express. She is too beauteous to be forgotten, and even now I can scarcely recon- cile myself to the thought, that such perfidy can be allied to such divine qualities. Hei\very face is that of an angel; innocence and meekness are portrayed in her features; the language that falls from her lips would ensnare the heart of an ancho- ret and even a sceptic into firm be- lief."

The wounds inflicted by grief ge- nerally yield to the hand of time, though there are hearts which cor- rode with melancholy recollections, and there are sorrows which work in silence on the soul, making but little visible outward ravage, compared with the consuming workings within. This was the nature of Beaufort's grief, and a letter which he received from Amelia, instead of assisting to dispel it, completely achieved the misery of my unhappy friend. It ran thus: " A calm has succeeded to the noise of inquiry respecting the late duel. I may now address you, though on a bed of sickness; neither the removal from which, nor any

THE ILLUMINATED CHURCH AT NEISSE, IN SILE6IA.

21

earthly circumstance, can ever bring repose to a mind whose misery is consummated in this world. My friend — dare I still call you so? — the maddening love I felt towards you made me strive to gain your affec- tions at any risk. My life still hangs on that affection, and though I love you, I must possess it or die. Tell me it is fled, and let me expire upon the word!

" Your silence, your secrecy re- garding the whole transaction, is a charity I do not deserve; it is an in- dulgence which kills me: still it leaves a faint gleam of hope upon my mind, that you do not utterly despise me.

0 God! if life could efface the wound

1 have given to your noble spirit, I would yield up mine with joy; but even this consolation is denied me, and the reflection of the irreparable injury I have done you must remain my everlasting torment and regret.

" What have I forfeited? all which is honourable or dear in life ! But

what did I attempt to gain? all that is most precious of heaven's gifts! What are the means I have employ- ed? they are too horrid to think of, much more to repeat!

" I could fly with you to the ut- termost end of the earth and be your slave, did I but know that you could forgive me. Did I but dare to think you do not curse me, and still re- member me with kindness, I would cherish that life which is now ebbing fast from me. But tell me what you think of me ? Heap upon me the re- proaches I merit, or say one kind word, and thus bid me live or die !"

To this letter Beaufort sent an answer full of kindness and feeling; his generous heart was incapable of reproach. He at last adopted the only advice and recommendation I could give. The next morning saw him on his route to a distant country, there to seek that forgetfulness of his woes which could alone contribute to his relief.

GHOST STORIES.— No. IV.

THE ILLUMINATED CHURCH AT NEISSE, IN SILESIA.

The following narrative is given in the words of Lieutenant-Colonel Weisse, of the Prussian artillery, who, at the beginning of the present century, resided at Wesel.

During the Seven Years' war, being then in garrison in the fortress of Neisse, in Silesia, I was an eye- witness of a singular and exceedingly mysterious phenomenon which oc- curred at that place. By command of Frederic II. of Prussia, the Jesuits had been obliged to remove into the country, for the purpose of continu- ing there the instruction of youth. When therefore they had completely

cleared out their church at Neisse, they quitted the town altogether. Not one of them was left, when the commandant of the fortress gave ex- press orders that this church should be turned into a magazine of provi- sions; but at the same time he di- rected that care should be taken to leave the high-altar unencumbered, and not to injure it, on account of the beauty of its construction.

A rumour suddenly spread through the town that a bright light, which illuminated the whole church, was seen at night upon this altar. People thronged from all quarters to witness

22

THIS ILLUMINATED CHURCH AT NEISSK, IN SILESIA.

this wonder, and curiosity induced me likewise to go to see the light. For two successive nights I endea- voured to reach the place from which it might be perceived, but in vain ; the concourse was too great, and I felt no particular call to elbow my way into the midst of the crowd.

On the third evening, when the commandant himself repaired thither, I was lucky enough to arrive in his suite at the envied spot where the miraculous light was to be viewed. I must confess that it threw me into no small astonishment to find every thing tally so exactly with the ac- counts which I had heard. The whole church was so light that every object within it might be distinguish- ed through the windows. It looked as if the light proceeded from the high-altar. The commandant imme- diately ordered the key to be brought, and the church opened. I, with many others, accompanied him to the door, and our astonishment was infinitely increased when, on opening it, we found the whole church in profound darkness, and could not discover in it the least trace of light.

The commandant was therefore necessitated to send for lanterns, that the church might be examined. No- thing whatever was found that tend- ed in the slightest degree to eluci- date the mysterious affair. Neither could the people in the street per- ceive any light while we were in the church ; according to their assurance, it disappeared the moment the door was opened.

It seemed therefore that for this time nothing more could be done, and we, accompanied the command- ant back to his residence. To this end we were obliged to pass the

above-mentioned place. Judge then of our surprise, when we again saw the church as brilliantly illuminated as before, so that every object, and especially the altar, appeared per- fectly distinct through the window!

It may easily be supposed, that even among the reflecting portion of the spectators opinions differed wide- ly on the subject of this extraordi- nary sight. The multitude consi- dered it as an omen that peace would be speedily restored, and that the king would then permit the Jesuits again to perform their devotions in this church as they had formerly done.

To make an end of the matter, the commandant ordered sentinels to be placed the following night in the church. This was done, but no discovery ensued. That night the church remained in darkness, and no light was perceived either from within or without: but no sooner was the precaution of posting sentries omitted, than the light was again discovered on the altar, and the whole interior of the edifice appear- ed illuminated.

The commandant then issued a proclamation, offering a considerable reward to any person who should discover and satisfactorily explain the nature of the mystery. Two days passed, and no clue was ob- tained ; but on the third a private belonging to the garrison desired to speak with the commandant, and pro- mised in the most positive manner to solve the mystery to his entire sa- tisfaction.

The same evening the general, ac- companied by a numerous party of inquisitive persons, repaired at the usual time to the place near the

TIfK rLLUMINATKD CIIUKCU AT MiaSSK, IN SILESIA.

£3

church. The soldier was already there, and the wondrous light was again visible.

The concourse of people was, as may easily be imagined, immense on this occasion. The general actually found it necessary to post a guard at the church-door before it was opened. As soon as we entered the church, we found ourselves surround- ed by a magic light, the rays of which seemed to be thrown from exactly that part of the high-altar where the pyx is usually kept: nay, what was still more wonderful, it was of a cir- cular form, and precisely of the di- mensions of the host. This pheno- menon could not fail to produce many extraordinary and absurd inferences in the minds of the yet very super- stitious spectators.

The soldier then conducted us to the altar, and directed our attention to that part of the church-window from which the rays of light, con- centrated into a focus, were thrown upon the altar. He next begged the commandant to take the trouble to go with him to his .quarters, where he would shew him how he contrived to make the concentrated rays of light fall upon the window, and pre- cisely upon the high-altar. The ge- neral, and as many of his suite as the place would admit, followed the sol- dier to the garret of a high house ex- actly opposite to the church. Here we found a mechanic who, with a concave mirror, had, agreeably to the known rules of optics, but quite ac- cidentally and undesignedly, pro- duced the phenomenon which ap- peared so wonderful, and had given rise to so much conjecture.

" I am employed," said the soldier, " by this optician, who sometimes gives me work to take home with me to

my quarters. Some time ago I had a tolerably large concave mirror or burning-glass to frame. This glass chanced one evening, while I was at work, to be placed in such a posi- tion as to throw a light through my window upon one of the windows of the church. I was suddenly roused from my occupation by a noise in the street, which proceeded from a number of people collected there. Curiosity induced me to open the window, and 1 heard them talking of a wonderful light in the Jesuit's church over the way. I was myself not a little astonished, on looking at the church, to observe that it was completely illuminated. It was not long, however, before I guessed the real cause of this phenomenon. I changed the position of my mirror, and the light in the church instan- taneously vanished.

" Soon afterwards, when the gaping spectators had dispersed, I made re- peated experiments, and always with the same success as before. Not a soul besides my comrade, who lodg- ed in the same room with me, knew what had happened with the mirror; I charged him to keep the matter a profound secret, and he did not be- tray it. When I had finished the mirror, I ought to have delivered it, and yet I wished to keep it a little longer for this purpose. I therefore disclosed the matter to this optician, and begged him to allow me to retain the mirror for a short time for this use. He not only complied with my request, but also assisted me by his skill to render the illusion more com- plete. He also raised an objection at the outset to my room ; ' for," said he, ' if we do not procure another, people will perceive whence the light proceeds.'

24

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

" We therefore consulted the land- lord of the house, and initiated him into our secret. He offered us this little garret, the window of which is not visible from the street. Here it is that, till the present moment, our operations have been carried on. Whenever they were going forward, my comrade was sent out into the street to notice what was passing there, and to bring me word. Ac- cordingly I made the light disappear when your excellency caused the church to be opened ; but no sooner did I hear that it was shut up again, than the light again became visible. In like manner, I was cautious enough not to produce any illumination on the night when the sentries were sta-

tioned in the church, as they might easily have discovered the deception." This explanation was perfectly sa- tisfactory to the general, and to every other person of ordinary intelligence. He therefore paid the soldier the promised reward of ten dollars, but with a strict injunction not to play any more tricks of the sort. The general was, nevertheless, prevailed upon the following day by the solici- tations of many curious persons, to permit a few more repetitions of the spectacle for the benefit of the ac- tors, who obtained a considerable sum by the exhibition. After curio- sity had been gratified, and ignorance duly enlightened, there was an end to the wonder.

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY, IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sir,

In this colonizing age, I have no doubt that the following account of a community of Europeans settled in the wilds of America, whose con- stitution and regulations are not per- haps to be paralleled on the face of the globe, will prove acceptable to your readers. This community was originally composed of natives of Wir- temberg; and though much has been published in Germany on the subject of their establishment, yet I believe its existence is scarcely known in this country. The foreign accounts, how- ever, founded chiefly on hearsay, abounded to such a degree with pre- judice, error, and falsehood, that two members of the society in question, who were sent to their native country to transact a variety of business in behalf of their brethren in America, deemed it right, on their return last

spring, to leave behind them a writ- ten statement, tending to correct the misrepresentations of ignorance and malignity. The report of these per- sons, who have belonged to the So- ciety ever since its first institution, is as follows :

The Harmony Society, now set- tled on the riverWabash, in the North American state of Indiana, chiefly consists of Wirtemberg emigrants, most of whom quitted their country in the year 1804.

After their arrival in Philadelphia, they performed a journey by land of about 400 miles ; and at the distance of about 35 miles from the town of Pittsburgh in Pennsylvania, they pur- chased 6000 acres of uncultivated land, at the rate of three dollars per acre. As there were among them many families who possessed no pro-

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

25

perty whatever, rich and poor, actu- ated by powerful religious feelings, associated together, and voluntarily deposited all they had in one com- mon stock, for the purpose of jointly- cultivating the land ; and it was agreed that in case any of the members should in process of time chuse to secede from the Society, they should have a right to demand back only the amount of their original contribution.

There were about fifty families who, on the 15th February, 1805, entered into this agreement ; the num- ber has since increased to one hun- dred and fifty families.

As no community or society can long subsist without certain officers; so in this case it was evident that or- der and propriety could not be duly maintained without something of this sort. The Society therefore had re- course to the expedient of a public election, and chose,almost unanimous- ly, John George Rapp of Ipptingen, a man of sound religion, understand- ing, experience, and firmness, to be the first Warden, and seven other per- sons to be Elders of the community. These were charged with the super- intendence of every thing connected with the well-being of the Society, both in spirituals and temporals, and with the execution of the rules and ordinances which the members had themselves framed and adopted. As therefore the executive power is in- trusted by the general consent to the Warden and Elders; namely, for the purpose of suppressing all irregula- rities and vices which are contrary to the word of God and the Christian religion; for watching that extrava- gance and luxury, either in dress or any other particular, may not exceed the limits appointed by the rules Vol III, No, XIII.

drawn up by the members them- selves, and permitted by circumstan- ces— many a prejudiced observer, who is ignorant of the basis of our constitution, has erroneously consi- dered the authority of the Warden as self-assumed and unlimited; nay even insinuated, that a despotism is gradually forming among us. But those who are capable of judging impartially, and appreciating the ties which bind this community together, need not be told that such a system cannot subsist in the United States, where the voice of the people alone governs, and where the presiding of- ficers are always elected by the ma- jority of votes. No person can hold any office among us without the will and approbation of the members of the Society, and whoever should strive to force himself into one would be the least likely to succeed.

After these points had been ar- ranged, a fit site for a town was sought, and houses built; the forest was transformed into corn-fields and meadows; and mills and manufacto- ries, and other necessary edifices, were successively erected.

It was not long before some fami- lies manifested a desire to separate from us, because social life did not at the first moment come up to their expectations ; for every beginning is difficult, and so was ours. After the Society had existed about half a year, the above-mentioned families actual- ly seceded, and demanded the im- mediate repayment of their respec- tive contributions. But, as nearly the whole of the money had with their consent been expended on land, cat- tle, and other stock, and the Society had yet no returns, and was conse- quently incapable of refunding the E

26

ACCOUNT OF THJI HAHMONY SOCIETY.

whole amount at once, the magis- trates of our district appointed the term within which it should be paid. This circumstance has afforded occa- sion to some to assert, most errone- ously, that no one can leave us with- out sacrificing all he possessed. The fact is, that we have no compulsory members ; for every one is at liberty to go when and whither soever he pleases. It would be a melancholy thing if, in a free country, a person were tied against his will to any par- ticular spot. Now that the circum- stances of the Society are improved, every one who wishes to leave us is instantly dismissed with his property, but without any addition or interest, which cannot be divided, unless a majority of the members vote for the dissolution of the community.

In the course of a few years, when we had made considerable progress in agriculture, in the breeding of cat- tle, and even in planting vineyards and orchards, the natives of the coun- try thronged from all quarters to see and to admire what Wirtemberg in- dustry and united efforts had accom- plished in so short a period. The fame of the Society was consequent- ly spread far and wide.

Finding, however, by experience, that the climate was extremely unfa- vourable for the production of fruit and wine, and that we should never have much to expect from our vine- yards, on account of the late spring frosts ; as also that the soil was poorer than we could have wished, and that all our surplus produce was to be conveyed a considerable dis- tance to market by land-carriage ; we were induced, in the spring of 1814, to select three of our number, and to send them to the state of Indiana, which has a warmer climate, to seek

a spot more suitable for our settle- ment. When these deputies return- ed, and made their report respecting Indiana, the Society resolved, after mature consideration, to sell the first establishment, called Harmony, and to remove to that state. The place was accordingly sold, with the G000 acres of land, to two Americans for 100,000 Spanish dollars, payable in ten years. The settlement had there- fore increased in value four hundred per cent, in ten years.

The removal, which was effected upon the Ohio, commenced in June 1814, and continued in parties till May 1815, when the whole Society was again assembled on land purchas- ed of the government at the rate of two dollars and a half per acre. It is situated on the east side of the ri- ver Wabash, in 38° 30' north lati- tude, and about 90° west longitude from London.

The tract contains 25,000 acres of the best and richest land that is to be found. It has spacious woods, con- sisting of oak, beech, ash, three dif- ferent sorts of wild walnut-trees, which grow to the thickness of 3 or 4 feet, and to the height of from 50 to 60 in the trunk, and are admi- rably adapted to all kinds of cabinet- makers' work ; also gum-trees, wild figs, a species of service-tree, wild cherry, apple and plum-trees, besides wild vines of immense height and thickness, all of which produce fruit. The maple too, from the juice of which large quantities of brown su- gar are made every spring, is very common ; so is the sassafras - tree, from two to three feet thick ; and there are several other sorts, as for in- stance, a kind of white poplar, which has a very compact wood, and is I commonly used for boards and wains-

ACCOUNT OF THIS HARMONY SOCIETY.

'ill

coring. In the low grounds there are very large cypress-trees, which are useful for coopers' work and shingles. In the woods are found stags, deer, bears, wolves, badgers, hares, wild cats, serpents, wild turkeys, the cock of which frequently weighs twenty- five pounds, and many other birds.

On a fine plain, not far from the river Wabash, and so situated as to leave an intervening valley of pasture- ground, stands our new town, Har- mony. The streets are broad, and all run at right angles, direct from south to north, and from east to west. To each house is attached a garden, in such a manner that the house ad- joins to the next garden, so as to be out of danger in case of fire.

The land now under cultivation, comprehending 3000 acres, is well adapted to wheat, rye, barley, maize, oats, hemp, flax, and rape. About 15 acres have been planted with vines, which for some years past have yield- ed considerable quantities of wine. In quality it nearly resembles the wine of Wirtemberg.

About one half of the inhabitants are engaged in agricultural occupa- tions; the other half consists of all sorts of mechanics.

The produce of the land is stored in public barns. The corn and pulse are threshed by a machine, by whieii 75 Wirtemberg bushels of clean wheat have been obtained in a day ; it is then conveyed to a granary, whence it is delivered out to the mil- ler, who grinds it as it is wanted, and supplies each family with a certain quantity, according to its number.

The corn-mill, a fulling-mill, a mill to grind edge tools, four carding ma- chines for wool and two for cotton, together with two large spinning-ma- chines for cotton, are all worked by

a steam-engine, which is situated at the south-east corner of the town, and cost about 25,000 dollars.

We raise a considerable quantity of wool ourselves, and the rest we obtain from the Americans in barter for cloth. The cotton-plant also thrives tolerably with us, but not near so well as in the province of Te- nessee or Louisiana.

We have spinners, weavers, dyers, and, in general, persons of all those trades which are requisite for the manufacture of coarse and fine cloth; and all the artisans necessary for the supply of the ordinary wants of life. Whoever needs a pair of shoes or boots, applies to the shoemaker, and is furnished with them gratuitously. In like manner, hats, coats, and other habiliments, as well as all sorts of ne- cessaries, are delivered without pay. On the other hand, neither the hus- bandman nor the mechanic receives any wages ; but they serve one ano- ther with the gift bestowed upon them by God, as members of one body or as children of one father. To each trade, however, there is appointed a foreman, to who^n all applications are made, who is enjoined by the So- ciety to be watchful at his post, and not to do more or less in his line than circumstances and the regulations of the community authorize, that no fetmber may, through mismanage- ment, be straitened or suffer want; but that, on the other hand, those who manifest any disposition to luxury or extravagance maybe timely checked, and every thing be conducted with order and regularity.

All the surplus products of our land, as well as those of our manu- factures, for instance, shoes, leather, hats, also cattle and other articles, are sold for the benefit of the whole, E U

28

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

and the receipts expended on arti- cles which we neither have nor make; such as iron, steel, salt, glass, pa- per, dye-stuffs, or other raw materi- als. Considerable sums are also now laid out on all sorts of improvements in the buildings, mills, roads, and for other public purposes.

The funds of the Society are un- der the management of a person who renders an account at stated times, and who, with some assistants, trans- acts the business of the Society.

For travellers there is a spacious and convenient inn, where they find good and reasonable accommoda- tions, and have five persons to wait upon them.

An extensive shop has also been erected, to which the Americans bring their surplus products for sale or exchange ; and likewise purchase manufactures, shoes, hats, and even foreign goods; which is of course profitable to ourselves and to our neighbours.

An excellent water-mill with three pair of stones, but room for six pair, has been built on a branch of the river Wabash, about two miles be- low the town, in which is a pair of French millstones, that cost 400 dol- lars, and make a great quantity of extremely fine flour for the market of New-Orleans. A good deal of corn is also ground for American customers.

In matters of importance, which are not within the competence of the "Warden and Elders, the majority of the votes of the members of the So- ciety decide; and most transgres- sions of individuals are taken cogni- zance of by a sort of jury of their comrades. But, as we have among us no such things as fines, the offend- ers arc, by way of punishment, ex-

cluded from the public meeting for a certain time, during which none of the congregation will associate with such individuals, either till the term of exclusion is over, or till, upon ex- pressing their contrition for the past and giving a promise of amendment for the future, they are re-admitted. Were any one to commit a heinous offence, a case which has never yet happened, he would be consigned to the officers of justice of the canton to which we belong. In fact, it is impossible for any hardened sinner or hypocrite to remain long among us ; for they find none like them- selves, and soon leave a place where they are quite out of their element. We regard peace and unity as more precious than jewels, and in or- der to preserve them, we scruple not to sacrifice our own will, and to sub- ject it at all times to that of the So- ciety ; and in so doing we find that our aim is best attained.

Thus far the written statement of the two deputies. From their ver- bal communications we learn, that the whole system of the Harmony Society is founded on the bases of morality and religion ; and that it is designed, by the utmost simplicity, by absolute equality, by incessant indus- try without any motive of private in- terest, and by solicitude for the gene- ral welfare, to bridle all passions, and to produce and preserve perfect har- mony, in the strictest sense of the term, among all its members.

The foundation of their religious creed is the Bible, which they follow according to their own conviction, without concerning themselves about dogmatic points. Their worship has the nearest resemblance to the Evan- gelical.

ACCOUNT OF THE HARMONY SOCIETY.

w

They have their amusements and diversions, but these seem to be go- verned by the spirit of the whole. The manner of celebrating Sunday they described as follows: " The morning service is attended by the whole congregation. We afterwards assemble in the Great Square, to lis- ten to the music of such members as are fond of that science. Their num- ber is about seventy ; and whoever manifests talents and inclination for it may receive instruction, but is not allowed to make music an exclusive profession. At these public per- formances, not only the greater com- positions of eminent masters, over- tures by Mozart and others, but also smaller pieces, good walzes, and the like, are executed. When the mu- sic is over, the Society divides into parties, either to take walks before dinner, or to arrange longer excur- sions for the afternoon to the neigh- bouring hills, or into the magnificent woods. In the latter case, one of them takes with him a volume of Klopstock's works, or those of some other classic writer, out of which he reads, and then they converse on what they have heard. In the even- ing, all assemble again to public wor- ship, after which, if they do not clmse to go home, they again walk about."

The unexpected word walz natu- rally led to the question : " Is danc- ing allowed among you?" It produc- ed this short answer: " Dancing is not prohibited ; but none of us ever yet took it into his head to dance."

The intercourse of the youth of both sexes is not obstructed; but when it is observed that a young couple manifest a particular fondness for each other's company, the parents and relatives on both sides seek ra- ther to promote the match, if it be

otherwise unobjectionable, than to prevent it. The choice of the par- ties is wholly left to their own incli- nations.

No where can marriage be attend- ed with fewer cares than here, where the community provides for all pre- sent and future wants. A new-mar- ried couple are set up in housekeep- ing at the public expense, and they are afterwards supplied, like the other members, with whatever them- selves and their families need, out of the common stock.

In order to be an active member of this Society, a person must follow some trade, no matter what, so it be but useful. The occupation gives no pre-eminence; and the husband- man is considered as on a perfect equality with the artisan or the shop- keeper. The only difference arises from the general respect acquired by personal ability and exemplary con- duct, but which is liable to be for- feited by the slightest misbehavi- our.

When a person proves awkward in the employment which he has chosen, or which has been allotted to him, he is removed from it, and put to ano- ther which seems better adapted to the faculties of his mind or body.

Of the Warden of the Society, John George Rapp, the two depu- ties spoke with high respect, and they seemed to be much pained by the statements that have appeared in Europe to his disadvantage. They repeatedly declared, that he was ele- vated to the office which he holds by the free choice of his brethren; and that owing to his advancing age — being now 65 years old — he has fre- quently solicited, but in vain, to be relieved from its arduous duties. Ac- cording to this account he must have

30

ACCOUNT OF THK HARMONY SOCIETY,

been between 45 and 46 when he quitted bis former abode at Ipptin- gen, a village in the canton of Yai- hingen, in Wirtemberg, where be bad been chiefly engaged in agri- culture, and followed the trade of a weaver. The testimony of these men, given at such a distance, and in un- reserved confidence, appears to be above all suspicion, especially since they regard themselves not as subor- dinate to Rapp, but as paying vo- luntai-y obedience to the general re- gulations. Their respect therefore rests on particular grounds, and these cannot but lie in the merits of the in- dividual. His character certainly de- serves a closer examination. Ad- verse accounts have described him sometimes as an ambitious despot and oppressor, and at others as a downright fanatic ; while the reports from his own flock represent him as an intelligent and energetic, but at the same time disinterested, humane, and benevolent pastor.

It is not denied that in his native country Rapp was considered as an enthusiast, and as the head of a sect of schismatics, which, according to the general notion, begins with re- nouncing the discipline of the esta- blished church, and finally bids defi- ance to the temporal power. Such a sect cannot be viewed with indif- ference in a well-regulated European government, because it tends to in- troduce confusion and disorder into the existing institutions ; and besides, its principles easily make converts among the lower classes of the peo- ple, because they are most prone to innovation.

Admitting that Rapp quitted his native land under such circumstances, and took with him many adherents of the sort just mentioned, still it

does not follow that he, and perhaps many others, acted without due con- sideration. From the very limited nature of his circumstances, indeed, he could not clearly anticipate what he has since achieved ; he was ac- tuated by a spirit which was deve- loped only by subsequent events. The history of the Old World records the names of those who have, in a similar manner, upon a large scale, exalted themselves into leaders and sovereigns, or operating in a narrower sphere, have made themselves and their families for ages the lords over others ; but it seems to be reserved for the history of the New World to name those peaceful conductors who, like William Penn, led forth freemen to a wild land, and sacrificing them- selves for the general weal, directed all their thoughts and efforts to its promotion.

The soil of the new settlement is chiefly dry, fertile, and slightly sandy. The Society, which at first consisted of about 200 souls, numbered, in the middle of the year 1822, 747 per- sons, and is gradually increasing. The state of Indiana is so far from being unhealthy, as it has been re- presented in Europe, that its popu- lationhas augmented during the short period since its foundation to 150,000 souls.

From the success of this experi- ment, are we not authorized to infer, that the plans which Mr. Owen of Lanark has been for some years past zealously endeavouring to carry into execution, are not quite so chimerical as they have been generally consi- dered ?

I am, &c.

Philanthkopos.

London,

Dec. 1, 1823.

31

REMARKS ON THE PRESERVATION OF THE POPULAR TRADITIONS OF THE GAEL.

TO THE EDITOR.

SlK,

I am one of many readers who have been delighted by your Gaelic Relics. Every lover of nature, and every admirer of heroic sentiments, must be charmed with strains, whose modulations come from the nerve, the pith and sinews of exalted cha- racter; and to convince you, that not only the sons of the mountains, but also their southern neighbours, are desirous of preserving those pre- cious remains of ancient genius, those portraitures of mind and manners in times of yore, I send you an extract from the Neiv Edinburgh Review, No. viii. for April 1 823, which con- tains an able critique on Colonel Stewart of Garth's second edition of Sketches of the Highland Charac- ter.

" We think, in the first place, that the superstitions of the High- landers, we mean of course their an- cient creeds, are exceedingly inter- esting, and ought to be collected be- fore it is too late. Martin has given us just enough to make us wish for more. To deride the superstitions of

any people is to deride the history of the human mind. It can never be unimportant to know what man has believed or feared. Dr. Smith has given us the tale of the fair Mego; Pennant, that of the aged Brera; Mrs. Murray, the Highland" Cin- derilla: what we desire is, the whole of this store ; for, aught we know, it may be now perhaps too late : we are very sure it will be so in half a century. Had Macpherson not blazed out as he did, the fragments of Os- sian would not be known as they are, and it is possible they might be forgotten by this time."

The preceding extracts are but detached portions of this liberal- minded article. The whole deserves an attentive perusal ; and it is to be hoped, that, before these lines have met the public eye, the writer, who so earnestly recommends to Colonel Stewart to make a collection of the traditions of the Gael, may be ap- prised that several have appeared, and are in progress to be preserved, in the Repository of Arts.

Antiquaiuanus.

THE EXPLOITS AT SAVENDROOG.

On the 8th December, 1791, three horsemen galloped to the base of the rock named Savendroog, or, in the Mysore dialect, the Rock of Death. One threw himself from the saddle, and by severe exertion climbed the steep ascent; while the others, with unabated celerity, re- turned towards Seringapatam.

From the advantages of its situa- tion, the fortress of Savendroog was deemed impregnable : during the so- vereignty of Hyder Ally and his son Tippoo Saib, the defences were strengthened by able French engi- neers ; and the noxious atmosphere was known to be so fatal to European constitutions, that the garrison de-

;32

THE KXTLOITS AT SAVENDKOOG.

spised and derided the temerity of the British commander, who was said to menace a siege of their inaccessi- ble heights. The rock towered more than half a mile in perpendicular elevation above its base, in two cliffs almost perpendicular; and on the summits, all the resources of art had been employed in continuing the lines of fortification which commenced at the base, a circumference of eight miles, encompassed by morasses and forests nearly impervious, except where a road to the capital had been conducted with laborious ingenuity under shelter of the trees by wind- ings and passes, rendering an ap- proach to the rock extremely diffi- cult without a guide.

The three horsemen we may sup- pose to have been well acquainted with this route, as they advanced, and two returned, with such expedi- tion: the third, by arduous effort, reached the first out-post of the lower foi'tifications, called for the officer commanding that guard, spoke a few words to him, and sunk down ex- hausted, to rise no more. All was now in motion along the ascending line of posts ; messengers were seen to strain every nerve in hastening to the highest peaks of the rock ; and squadrons of infantry marched at quick pace to the redoubts that ter- minated the road from Seringapatam. They had hardly time to draw up en bataillon, when twenty -five horse- men dismounted in front of the ar- ray, and after a hasty refreshment, were borne in palanquins to the up- per stations of the fortress. By the earliest dawn, the troops had a con- firmation of the rumour, that Tippoo Sultan, attended by French officers, had come to inspect the works and the discipline of the garrison, having

received intelligence that a British army, by forced marches, would bear upon Savendroog in a few days.

Tippoo Saib minutely surveyed the fortifications and reviewed his troops; then commanding them to wheel into a circle in files, twelve men deep, around a temporary plat- form covered with embroidered silk, he ascended the steps of this stage, followed by the French officers in full uniform, and with their unsheath- ed swords in warlike attitude. Si- lence deep and awful prevailed, and after a pause of some minutes, the sultan dropped a dark cloak, and stood before his soldiery on a gilded pedestal, seven feet in height, blaz- ing in all the insignia of royalty and military command. Drawing his jew- elled scimitar, he flourished the wea- pon as he spoke :

" Unconquered soldiers of My- sore! the pale-faced men of Europe are marching to their graves at the base of our Hock of Death. Every leaf on the lofty and numberless trees of our far-extending forests is armed for their destruction ! Every stag- nant pool in our morasses sends forth vapours more fatal than the fire and smoke which impel our cannon-balls to sweep away their ranks ! Yet, offi- cers and soldiers of the mightiest empire on the face of the earth, be it your glory, by valorous vigilance, discipline, subordination, and intre- pidity, to prepare for them a discom- fiture from your own arms ! The sultan will distinguish and reward the brave. The sultan will also pu- nish every neglect or deficiency in the discharge of duty. Return to your respective stations, and when the climate and your prowess have annihilated the pale-faced Britons, and the wild ravagers of the forest

THE EXPLOITS AT SAVENDROOG.

S3

have devoured their carcases, the sultan will distribute abundant re- wards to all that are fuund to deserve his favour."

Tippoo retired amidst the accla- mations of his soldiery, and assum- ing a new disguise, took the road to Seringapata l, attended by the trusty cavalcade \c led to Savendroog. His spirit-stii ing harangue had full ef- fect upon U.V, s«irrison; the vigilance of the officers and men had no re- mission; and on the 10th of Decem- ber, their scouts gave notice, that a British army, preceded by indefati- gable bands of pioneers, were mak- ing terrible progress in cutting their way through a part of the forest which hitherto had been considered impenetrable, as the enormous trunks f the sylvan giants were closely in- terwoven by prickly climbing plants. Next morning, before sunrise, Colo- nel Stewart and his undaunted bri- gades had scaled the rock, and car- ried by assault all the compartments of the fortress, without the loss of a single man.

The attack was so unexpected, that the Mysoreans, who looked only for a regular siege, were occupied i •. preparations to resist to the last; and they exulted in the certainty, that the climate would prove an auxi- liary, before whose empoisoned shafts the Britons must fall, long ere the stores of ammunition and food in the fortress of Savendroog could be ex- pended. Colonel Stewart was aware that the climate would operate as the only unconquerable foe ; and he accordingly abridged the process of his warfare. When he summoned the garrison to surrender, they were panic-struck by finding they had to cope with an enemy capable of achiev- Vol. HI. No. XIII.

ing supposed impossibilities; but they attempted to accomplish by treache- ry the destruction of the victors, though they also must be involved in the same fate. A British soldier ob- served a Mysorean skulking towards the powder-magazine of the grand parade, with a concealed bulk un- der his cloak. The soldier rushed forward, and tearing open the enve- lope, found two lighted matches, which he extinguished under his feet. In a moment he was furiously assault- ed by several of Tippoo's soldiers, and must have been killed, if his wife, who never separated from him, had not called for help. The soldier de- fended himself till a sufficient force disarmed the Mysoreans. Their of- ficers denied any participation in this enterprize, and gave them up to pu- nishment for violating the terms of capitulation.

We leave them in the hands of British justice and clemency, and re- turn to the soldier, whose conduct and bravery prevented the tremen- dous explosion. A sentiment of deep interest in his recovery pervaded the British army. He was the only man who had been wounded; his blood was shed to avert the loss of many lives; on former occasions his cou- rage and presence of mind were con- spicuous, and all his behaviour me- rited not only approbation but re- spect. He was lodged in a lofty apartment, detached from the noise of military movements, and every accommodation was provided for him and his wife.

They had arrived with recruits for the — regiment of foot, a short time previous to the opening of the cam- paign: the commanding officer of these new levies, who alone knew any

34

TIIK EXPLOITS AT SAVKNDUOOG.

thing of them, died on his passage to India, and they were strictly reserved concerning their own private history. Henry Rutledge was, however, soon distinguished for the most exact per- formance of duty, and in more than one engagement had displayed the most admirable qualities of a soldier. He was offered a halbert; but with expressions of due acknowledgment he declined that promotion, request- ing leave to remain as a volunteer, until he should earn by his services the honour of being ranked with commissioned officers. He and his wife had all the appearance of ha- bits acquired and confirmed in a su- perior station: yet, when persons of that description come among stran- gers, without vouchers for their cha- racter, they are liable to unfavoura- ble conjectures, and time only can acquit them of suspicion.

With the most civil and obliging deportment to the soldiers and their wives, Henry Rutledge and his spouse scrupulously avoided all ten- dency to familiar intercourse. Mrs. Rutledge worked with her needle, or wove bobbin lace ; and in every inter- val between the calls of duty, her husband sketched patterns or wound thread for her elegant manufacture, or amused her by reading aloud, and playing on the flute or clarionet. They conversed in a foreign language, which some of the soldiers who had served abroad imagined to have the German accent; and in the camp or the field of danger, Mrs. Rutledge endeavoured to keep sight of her better self.

When the regiment was first or- dered on service, Rutledge entreated his wife to remain at Madras, and the only favour he ever asked of his captain was, that he would vouchsafe

his advice on this head. The worthy veteran accompanied him to Mrs. Rutledge's lodging, and represented to her the untried evils she must en- counter if she attended the march of the regiment. She implored him not to oppose her humble but fixed resolution. She would give no trou- ble, and might be useful. Hardship or peril she was prepared to meet, and could endure any suffering, ex- cept being torn from her husband. Rutledge assured her, that to carry away with him the certainty of her comfort and health being secure would give him spirits to act with greater energy. She turned upon him a look of affectionate reproof, saying, " Henry Rutledge ! when I became yours, you swore never to in- sist that I would separate from you even in the field of battle. I claim the performance of that solemn en- gagement. If you leave me, I shall lose my reason or my life. I can but die if I go with you, but I shall die happy; and, O Captain Bay- grove, if you hope, by the blessing of God, to be restored to your lady and daughters, have pity on a friend- less stranger, and let me live or die undivided from my only protector — my husband !"

This appeal to his conjugal and paternal tenderness could not be re- sisted. Captain Baygrove nominated Mrs. Rutledge among the soldiers1 wives who were to follow his compa- ny; and this ladylike adventuress was seen on foot, shading herself from the sun with a parasol, or on a bag- gage-waggon, screened by an um- brella; but always when the division to which Rutledge belonged made a halt, she was by his side. She kept pace with him in ascending the rock of Savendroog, and, as she had

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

35

prognosticated, was useful, for her cries brought succours to her hus- band in time to intercept the My- soreans who ran to kindle other matches, when Rutledge extinguish- ed those first intended to explode the powder-magazine.

Thus every circumstance that re- lated to the heroic pair became a subject of discussion at the mess-ta- bles; and the surgeons never visited Rutledge unaccompanied by officers of the different regiments, who were desirous of seeing him and his wife. They always found Mrs. Rutledge in attendance. She courtesied to them with involuntary grace, and her coun- j tenance, the index of sorrowful anx- 1 iety, evinced a total abstraction from | self — a disregard to every consider- j ation except the danger and distress ; of her husband. When he was de- | clared to be convalescent, the gen-

tlemen wished to draw his wife into conversation, but she answered only in monosyllables, and without any breach of respect, shewed them she was determined to maintain a strict reserve. The patient was informed that his services being represented to the commander-in-chief of the army by Colonel Stewart, he was imme- diately appointed ensign, and a few days afterwards promoted to the rank of lieutenant. Mr. and Mrs. Rut- ledge expressed their grateful feel- ings in terms that proved how highly they were qualified to support the place in society to which they were deservedly raised. The officers re- tired, leaving the happy pair to in- dulge in mutual gratulations ; but in the evening it appeared that joyful emotion had caused some access of fever to the patient.

(To be concluded in our next.)

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

Till'" DINNER.

" Captain von Pfittersiiausen, as I'm alive !" exclaimed, with goggle eyes and nut-cracker jaws, my old acquaintance, Mr. Walter WafHe, the ship-broker, as I turned the cor- ner of the Post-Office archway in Lombard-street, whither I had sped my steps from Panton-square in the Haymarket, to insure the safe con- veyance of three pages of foolscap to my dear Frederika at Wolfenbuttel, circumstantially detailing the wound at the battle of Toulouse, and the consequent amputation above the knee-joint; but consoling her grief by the news of the liberal pension which, with half-pay and Spanish prize-money, would in six weeks' time enable me to fly to her arms, to be for ever united to the most graceful

of her sex. It was at a ball at the Casino my eyes first beheld her beau- tiful form, and received from her looks the silent assurance of favour. Like Luna and her terrestrial com- panion in the firmament, we whirled swiftly and gracefully in amatory loveliness round the splendid saloon, the admiration of strangers and envy of friends. Frederika was the beau idial of waltzing. Would she had been less partial to that bewitching pastime ! !

Alas ! my three pages of foolscap, for the safe conveyance of which to Wolfenbuttel I had sped my steps from Panton-square in the Haymar- ket to Lombard-street, remained a dead letter, until Schwartz, the inva- lid corporal of von Detholm's com- F 2

36

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

pany, shewed some bowels for my corporal and mental anguish, by informing me, with corporal - like naivete, that I must give up all thoughts of Miss Frederika, by rea- son of my incapacitation from future participation in the sports of salta- tion : " for," said he unanswerably, " your honour will allow that waltz- ing on three legs is inconvenient and unsightly; and so Miss Frederika, I understand, has determined to waltz to the temple of Hymns in as perfect a way as Counsellor Ninihoffer's heal- thy pedestals will let her."

O woman ! woman ! !

Fortunately for me, these deadly tidings were yet hidden under the veil of futurity, when at the corner of the archway in Lombard-street my old acquaintance, Mr. Walter Waf- fle, the ship-broker, exclaimed, with goggle eyes and nut-ci*acker jaws, " Captain von Pfittershausen, as I am alive ! Dear me, a leg the worse for valour ! Well, well, better a leg than a head ; great saving in stock- ings and shoes, washing, and Day and Martin's. One ball goes as far as two."

O the broker-feeling ! What a sympathizing soul !

Nay, peace to the manes of the broker ! Mrs. Waffle's iron rule, af- ter breaking his head once or twice a week during a term of years, I am sure broke the heart of invoices and charterparties ; for Mr. Walter Waf- fle has freighted his last cargo in the church-yard of St. Leonard's, Shore- ditch, where the bill of lading of pure marble, endorsed by his discon- solate spouse, enumerates all the par- cels of virtues and mental endow- ments that are to be entered free of duty on t'other side the Styx.

" Mrs. Waffle," said the good man,

" will be delighted to see an old friend of mine ; you must come and dine."

" What, married ?"

" Aye, and to the best of women, a young widow of forty-five or so; six thousand down, an annuity of two hundred, three children well provid- ed for, and two of our own for the present. We have got a little rum in urby at Bethnal Green, with a spare sofy-bed ; you must come and see us. By the by, where do you spend your Christmas-day, captain?" — " At home." — " Nonsense! We shall expect you to dinner, four o'clock ; don't make it later, that we may have time for a little music and a rubber : we always have cards on Christmas-day. Perhaps there may be a little of the footing it too — (dear me, I did not think of your casualty ! I ask a thousand pardons): never mind, we shall kill the time, I warrant you. You German gentlemen like cards, and Mrs. W. knows how to entertain her friends : her first husband, the sugar-baker, kept the best of com- pany. Excuse me, I must run upon 'Change : so then, Christmas-day at four o'clock, or as much sooner as you like. Here's my card, though every body knows Walter Waffle's in Wilmott Grove, Bethnal Green. God bless you, captain \ A propos, if you like to come in your rich- mentals, so much the better. Mrs. W. delights in the military. Good bye, don't forget, four's the hour !"

It was not till after inquiries and laborious turnings and oaths innu- merable, that the soaked charioteer of hacks discovered the domicile of Mr. W. Waffle, " whom every body knows," by a brass plate indicating name, surname, and profession, peep- ing from under the shade of a portal

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

37

of lattice-work, of enlivening and rural verditer, of the size of a sen- try-box. The front court of the " ruin in urby" had lost some of its best charms at this inclement season of the year: yet a cypress in the middle of an elliptical well-boxed parterre, surrounded by a curious mosaic of oyster- shells, washed clean by the incessant rain, and a neat pri- vet-hedge within the rails, proclaim- ed the taste of the possessor.

No sooner had the coach halted, than the clangor of the steps enabled me to make some preparatory ac- quaintance with a great part of the family and of the neighbours : some •prim faces in the first floor kept eying the settlement of the fare ; and the windows in the second were lined with the three darlings " well pro- vided for and the two of our own." The exterior attractions, indeed, seemed to have made them forget the better opportunity of internal inspection : two successive knocks produced no other effect than bustle and confusion within, until a matron voice, from the stairs, sent forth a seasonable admonition to the careless crew below; adding, with becoming indignation, " Sally, why don't you take them pattens down in the kitch- ing? Would you have the captain break his other leg too ?"

The peremptory tone in which these orders were conveyed, rendered it quite natural that." them pattens" should be taken down before the " French" gentleman was taken into the house. After a little further compliment of the season therefore under the pervious porch, to the great detriment of my single silk hose and pump, admittance into the interior of Mr. Waffle's domain was granted ; the aperient party running

before me, to announce the murdered name of my ancestors under the guise of Captain Bickerstaff'.

This erratum being forthwith amended through the kindness of my old acquaintance, the broker of ton- nage and primage, introductions showered upon me more plentifully, but less tangibly, than the previous rain under the verandah. All was a mumble-jumble of nouns proper of the masculine and feminine gender, in which they had greatly the advan- tage, inasmuch as " Captain Ffitters- hausen" was told over and over seven times, but the names of the seven reciprocities most unbecomingly slur- red over to me; so that, excepting those of Mr. Jones and of Mr. and Mrs. Smith — which sounds had met my ears before — the rest of the com- pany remained non-descripts to my intellects till the festivities had con- siderably " progressed."

Mrs. Biffin, a short inangular and vastly inquisitive lady from Mile-End Green, whose neighbour, in the ex- pecting circle, chance had destined me to be, asked many questions about the battles and skirmishes on the Spanish " main," protesting that she should not mind seeing Mr. Bif- fin return with a leg the less from such glorious deeds as must have been achieved by the gallant Captain von Pfittershausen ; and inquiring, by the way, whether I were any relation to the famous Baron Munchausen, whose travels she had had from the library, but believed to be for the most part a pack of .

From these importunities I was happily released by the seasonable interposition of the lady of the house, the widow of " forty-five or so," a comely anthropophagan countenance of male aspect and dark complexion,

38

A CHRISTMAS TARTY.

yet over-rubicund withal — (alas! I then foreboded Mr. Waffle's fate!) That a teint thus favoured by nature should resort to the saucer to exhi- bit a complete rouge et noir, could only be accounted for by the "plus habet, plus opted"' The reverse, however, was probably the case with the auburn ringlets which hung, in profusion, but dry and ochry, from the Brussels cap adorned with pop- pies and passion-flowers of Italian ar- tifice. Mrs. Waffle, in a delicate man- ner, condoled with me on the loss I had experienced, hoping that in the end my constitution would be ?/-astly benefited by the " catistroph." " I suppose, captain," she added, " you are of the Protestant persuasion? — I thought as much! — Now if I may ask a foolish question, when a mis- fortune like yours occurs in the ar- my, do they give the limb a Christian burial?"

" Dinner's on the table" was a wel- come relief; for Mrs. Biffin had join- ed the chatechization by asking whe- ther in case of computation the king found the wooden leg, which it were a shame if he did not.

Every gentleman now took the hand of a lady in a very becoming and solemn manner, to hand her down to the parlour, but owing to the narrowness of the staircase, the advance took place en echelons; pa- rallel motion being out of the ques- tion. It was somewhat ludicrous to see the shifts and squeezes to con- form to this piece of etiquette ; and the parlour of Mr. Waffle's " rum in urby" being of too snug dimensions to hold multum in parvo, a sort of a pit-door crowd accumulated in the passage, until the clever dispositions of the lady within afforded a gradu- al vent to the stoppage.

Whether it was by an unlucky fa- tality, or from a desire of doing me honour, the seat assigned to me was within half a yard of half a bushel of Hepburn's main, crowned by a blazing " Christmas log," on which occasion, Mr. Basil Jones, the packer of Camomile-street, flatteringly re- marked, that he felt sure this was the first time that the baron turned his back to fire.

Although the table seemed to groan under a butcher's shop of enor- mous joints, Mrs. Waffle politely apologized for the scantiness of the fare, and more especially for the ab- sence of a Norfolk turkey, which the brother of her late husband had pro- mised, and she was sure had actual- ly expedited, but which had not ar- rived this morning so late as eleven at the Spread Eagle in Gracechurch- street, unless Mr. Faffle, whom she had sent three times about it, had made one of his usual blunders; for one, he confessed, had been offered him there, with the direction three parts torn off, and he was too consci- entious forsooth to take him home.

" The name, my dear, began with a V, as I told you," rejoined Mr. W. in his own defence ; " and would you have me commit a robbery knowing- ly ? May the bit "

Mrs. W. did not suffer the defence to proceed, she had not patience with such finical qualms. — " Allow me to help you to a spoonful of war- myshell soup, Captain Bitterhouse; 'tis of my own making, and I hope you will find it good. I never trust them nicer things to the servant. You will find it warm you."

Warm me! What with the fire at my back, and the essence of pepper I swallowed within, not to appear un- civil, my frame began to burn with

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

fever. In this state, a general invi- tation to the ladies to take a glass of wine operated as a welcome relief to my parched gutturals. Here the respective parties, having first eyed each other with affectionate solemni- ty, cut a most demure face, and nod- ded their heads with slow gravity, a manoeuvre which I imitated with tole- rable success' in favour of the lady of the house.

" How d'ye like this wine, cap- tain?" exclaimed the self-complacent Mr. Waffle. — " Very pleasant drink ;" and so it was, indeed, in my situation, for all its India-rubber twang. — " I think it is: a better glass of cape you will not find in London ; I had it out of the Docks and bottled it myself; 'tis equal to any sherry."

Among the immense store of ani- mal food which graced the festive board, and which at a moderate computation would have fed twice our number for a week, nothing- gained more admiration than a colos- sal mound of roasted beef. The praises lavished on this mass of flesh were expressed with a sympathy and inward feeling, which a person, igno- rant of the object, would certainly have taken for commendations be- stowed on a friend or a near rela- tion. Mr. Philpotts, one of the quo- rum, triumphantly asked, " I say, captain, have you ever seen such a bit a beef at Wolfenbuttel?" — The usual stale puns were called forth by a pickled tongue served as a relish to four boiled fowls, so mature in years, that Mrs. Waffle herself candidly vowed, they should be the last Mo- ther Shephard sold at her house. It was therefore no wonder that Mr. Basil Jones should anticipate some indemnity from the sight of three or four pair of pigeons' claws projecting

out of a crusted dish in the centre. On his expressing his heart's desire, Mrs. Waffle kindly asked, if any other lady or gentleman chose to taste the pigeon-pie ; and no affirmative answer being received, Mr. Basil Jones was politely informed, that if he particularly wished it, the pie should be cut, although strictly speaking it was rather intended for supper. Mr. Jones, of course, was too much of a gentleman to press his request.

At this time, the maid whispered a confidential communication in her mistress's ear, which, from the appal- ling effect it produced, seemed to im- port a sudden calamity in the family. " There now, Mr. W." exclaimed the disconsolate spouse, " the mince-pies are not come ! You would not let me make them ; you must forsooth order things in town, which I could have made better, and for a quarter of the money. Have you ordered them or not, Mr. Vaffle?"— " Ordered them, my love, at half-past four precisely, and paid for them too." — " Paid for them !" ejaculated Mrs. W. in an ago- ny of distress. Here a note of prepa- ration for the benefit of Mr. W.'s fu- ture guidance appeared to be fairly on its way ; but whatever its intended import may have been, her overpow- ered feelings stifled every kind of ut- terance, except a deep sob or two, accompanied by a gentle tear, furrow- ing its way over the crayon carna- tion.

A female's tears, even on mince- pies, could not fail to awaken all our sympathies; we spoke comfort all of us ; we protested that after such a dinner, the delicacy in question must have remained untouched ; and we succeeded by soothing words to re- cover in some degree Mrs. W.'s spi- rits, and restore the general harmo-

40

A CHRISTMAS PARTY.

ny of the festive board. — " Thank heaven," exclaimed Mrs. W. " I have not trusted the pudding to his ma- nagement too! It has a little crack, owing to the cloth bursting, but you will not find it the worse for that." — Here the ladies entered upon a mi- nute inquiry as to the quantum of in- gredients employed to produce so vast and yet so perfect a specimen of culinary art, and I ventured to beg the favour of being furnished with the written prescription for its confection, in order to transfer the mystery to my countrymen at Wol- fenbuttel. My request not only was most obligingly promised to be at- tended to, but contributed wonder- fully towards exhilarating the ruffled spirits of our hostess, which resum- ed their buoyancy to such a degree, that she promised to cut me a slice to take home to Panton-square, to eat at my leisure, cold or broiled.

In removing the cloth, Sally, iri her zeal to whirl with expedition through the narrow space left for her evolutions, had the misfortune, for I pitied her more than myself, to drop a tumbler with brown stout right on my back, the thorough saturation of which, with caloric from Hepburn's main and the Christmas log, was such that it preserved me totally from tak- ing cold, and moreover gave rise to an interesting physical phenomenon; for in less than half a minute, the va- pours ascended as visibly as from a Greenwich stage-courser on a frosty morning, and induced Mr. Basil Jones, the packer of Camomile-street, to observe facetiously how " smoking hot" the baron's birth must be !

With the dessert were introduced the junior branches of the family, the " three of her own" being accom- modated near the widow of " forty-

' five or so," and the two little Waf- fliu<is taking their station near their papa. The channels from which the

| several dainties proceeded were mi- nutely and faithfully enumerated by Mr. Waffle, inasmuch as he had pur- veyed them in propria persona — the oranges from Levy Lyons in Up- per Thames-street; the apples from Leadenhall-market; and the almonds and raisins were samples presented him by his friend a fruit-broker. Whencesoever all these delicacies came, they seemed to be provided for the benefit of the junior branches, who fell upon them with unceremoni- ous appetite, while the senior mem- bers regaled themselves over currant, raisin, and orange wines in healths in- numerable, a solitary decanter of port in the middle of the table being unac- countably neglected by the master of the house.

Not being accustomed to these home-brewed delicacies, the appear- ance of a bottle of champaign promis- ed some consolation ; but when asked how I liked it, sincerity compelled me to hint, that Mr. Waffle's wine-mer- chant had not altogether done him justice; upon which he cast a tender glance at his better half, and said, with arch significancy, " My wine-mer- chant, captain, has never yet done me injustice: the champaign you are drinking is of her own making, and I defy any man to distinguish her goose- berry-wine from real champaign : in- deed, it's better than most of what we drink in this country as such. Take another glass, my good friend, it will do you good!"

During this time, the zealous com- petition of the little innocents for the good things had fairly waxed into a scramble, and little Jessy, in her ea- gerness to outdo her elder brother,

TIIJi SHOPS OF PARIS.

41

unluckily disturbed the centre of gra- vity of my full glass of British Eper- nay. The liquid stream, with na- tional antipathy, instantly made its way to the mazarine blue of Mrs. Philpotts1 French silk dress, and the sudden leap she was mechanically in- duced to perform on the occasion, only lengthened the streaky current. Some half phrases obscurely mutter- ed, of which the words " brats" and " done for" were all I could distinct- ly gather, evidently shewed that this lady did not meekly bear her misfor- tune. To do Mrs. Waffle's brewing justice, I doubt whether real cham- paign would have been equally pow- erful in its effects, inasmuch as be- fore the ladies withdrew, which was but a few minutes later, the seric gar- ment distinctly exhibited the factious colours of blue and orange in great perfection.

This untoward accident, no doubt,

hastened the departure of all our fair companions : a general rising, bowing, and squeezing ensued; after which our host, asserting a degree of au- thority which in the presence of his better half he had generously waved, marshalled his friends in new groups, and exhorting all present to a free and easy joviality, gave toasts and bumpers in rapid succession. Mr. Jones's nostrils had for some time pantomimed a sense of smelling, which although equally palpable to my ol- factory nerves, I had the good-breed- ing to suppress, until our friend in- formed us, that it was proceeding from Mrs. Waffle's smoking a ladies' cegar, which her delicate health had obliged her to resort to for a length of time, and which he had no doubt was the means of preserving her alive.

( Tea and Cards in our next.)

Alexander the Great took the trouble to conquer the world merely to make the Athenians talk of him. To make the Parisians talk for a day, that would be a world too much, but for a year together, a world too little. To accomplish this, it would be ab- solutely necessary to lose the world after conquering it. For a person to make himself conspicuous in this gi- gantic capital, where, as in a vast ocean, wave is incessantly urging wave, no little practice is required — but in that particular not a single na- tive is deficient.

In other countries charlatanerie is the crutch of lame merit; here it is the necessary chasing, without which the most brilliant diamond

Vol. III. No. XIII.

THE SHOPS OF PARIS.

would not attract the most superfi-

cial glance. To the praise of the Parisians it must be admitted, that they know how to appreciate every good gift, and even virtue, but then it must make a noise : modesty itself wins their applause, if it understands the art of speaking without moving its lips. The artifices employed by each in his sphere to set off his per- son and properties to the best ad- vantage, would fill a large volume. I shall here only take some notice of the means used by shopkeepers to attract customers.

In those parts of the town where the theatres, the promenades, and other places of public resort are si- tuated, where in consequence most G

M

the shops of paius.

foreigners reside, there is scarcely any house without a shop. The powers of attraction must be played off to a minute, to a step; for a mi- nute too late, or a step further, and the passenger is before another shop, in which he finds the articles which he is seeking. Your eyes are, as it were, forcibly taken captive; you must look up, and stop till they re- turn. The name of the shopkeeper and his trade is written ten times over above the doors and windows ; the exterior of the shop looks like a schoolboy's copy-book, in which the few words of the copy are incessantly repeated. It is not sufficient to ex- hibit patterns of stuffs, large rolls of them are hung before the door and windows. In many instances they are fastened high up the second floor, and descend twisted in all sorts of forms to the very pavement.

The shoemaker has the outside of his whole house painted with shoes of all colours, drawn up en bataillon. The locksmith's sign is a gilt key six feet high ; the mighty gates of heaven would not need a larger. On the hosiers' shops are painted white stock- ings four yards long, which in the dusk are enough to frighten people, when they may easily be mistaken for gigantic spectres flitting by. Thus has every one a prodigious hook even for the smallest fish that he intends to catch.

But feet and eyes are arrested in a more agreeable manner by the paintings which are hung up in front of many shops, and in general fur- nish representations allusive to the trades carried on in them. These paintings are not rarely real works of art, and if they were exhibited in the gallery of the Louvre, connoisseurs would pause before them, if not with admiration, at least with pleasure.

They are at the same time charac- teristic sketches of Parisian life, and the study of them is therefore equal- ly instructive and entertaining. I will briefly describe a few that have struck me.

The shop of a dealer in shawls is graced by a picture containing seven figures of the size of life: it bears the superscription — Au Sekment. Three men are reaching several shawls to three ladies, and at the same time making with their hands motions of solemn asseveration. They swear that these are genuine French shawls, and may well add, that good French- men abhor English commodities, for an Englishman in the back-ground casts angry glances at the patriotico- mercnntile triumvirate. Such is the obvious meaning of the picture, which, however, had formerly a secret sig- nification. Till within these two years the shawls offered to the ladies were white, red, and blue, and the gentle- men of the shop swore that these were the genuine colours cherished by every Frenchman; but by com- mand of the hypochondriac police, which is afraid of every breath that blows, the shopkeeper was obliged to have one of the colours erased.

Before. the house of a wig-maker, not far from the preceding, is a painting, which, though ill executed, conveys a curious idea. Absalom, the prince royal, is seen hanging by the hair from a tree, in which situa- tion he is run through the body by an enemy's spear. Underneath are these lines :

Contcmplez d'Absolon le deplorable sort! S'il eut porte perrucpue, il evitait la mort;

which may be thus Englished :

Beware the fate of Absalom,

Who ran a dangerous rig : For certes, he had saved his life

Had he but worn a wig.

THE SHOPS OP PARIS.

43

Another very well painted picture, representing a girl who lias won the prize at a rose-feast, receiving the crown on her knees from the hands of a gentleman, decorates the shop- door of a marehande des modes. The girl looks so innocent and devout, that young persons without experience, of whom, however, there are none in Paris, might be deterred by it, and induced to pass on and buy their gloves at another shop.

A dealer in birds draws attention by a painting representing Noah's ark. The whole prologue of the de- luge is comprised in it. The ark lies quite comfortably on dry ground, waiting till the water shall come to set it afloat. Father Noah is playing with an ape, and looks very cunning: lie alone knows what is about to hap- pen. The four-footed animals are coming in endless procession to save themselves in the ark. They walk two and two, but without any regard to rank, as is usual in cases of emer- gency: the lion follows the horse, the fox precedes the ass, and the hare trots after the dog.

I have been particularly amused by a picture which a professor of the German language, and to judge by his name, a native of Germany, ex- hibits before his residence in the Pa- lais Royal. A man in the prime of life, no doubt Mr. Professor himself, is sitting in an arm-chair, with a book in his hand, hearing a boy who stands before him say his lesson. A little farther back sits a young female of extraordinary beauty, and behind her, bending over her chair, stands an officer of the Red Hussars, who, according to all mimic probability, is making a declaration of love. The girl is pointing with her finger at a place in the book, and the French hussar, with his hand on his heart,

seems to be pronouncing after her : IcJc Hebe (Ich Hebe, I love). The professor himself seems to have pro- fited by his residence in Paris, for in his own country he would never have acquired the assurance to make known by a show-board that he kept a school for mutual instruction be- tween young females and officers of the Red Hussars.

I must not omit the shop of M. Franchet, jeweller, in the Rue Vivi- enne. The workmen were employed six months upon this shop, and the happy mortals who had the good for- tune to get a peep behind the cur- tains that were hung before it, could not sufficiently extol the wonderful sight. At length, about three weeks before the birthday of the little Duke of Bordeaux, the shop was opened. I should have observed that M. Franchet is jeweller to the Duchess of Berry. This shop, a room of at the utmost 20 feet in length, cost 40,000 francs; such is the magnifi- cence with which it is fitted up. Over the entrance from the street there are two coats of arms, painted with great care, encompassed in gold cir- cles. One of these coats emblazons the united arms of the houses of France and Naples; those in the other are of a rather mystic nature. They are the points of crystallization of future glories, embryos of king- doms, crowns in the egg-shell — in short, something more is meant than meets the eye ; but it has all some re- ference to the Duke of Bordeaux. The political representatives of other powers, who understand their busi- ness, will certainly not have failed to send forth their spies to discover whether something edifying and in- structive may not here be decypher- ed.

G 2

44

PICTURE OF A NORWEGIAN BISHOP.

The Journal of a Tour through Norway in the year 1817, by Mr. F. Boie, gives the following curious pic- ture of a Norwegian bishop, whom the author chanced to meet with in the island of Tiotoe.

The wind increased in violence, it began to rain, the sea ran very high, and we were compelled to land at Tiotoe. Wet through with rain and the spray of the waves, and chilled by the wind, we here felt with dou- ble force the comfort of the patriar- chal custom of not shutting up the house even at night, but giving a hos- pitable reception to the stranger, without so much as inquiring his name or his errand. The island is considered as the finest property north of Numedalen: indeed, few houses in Drontheim can compare with the magnificent mansion of M. Brodkorb ; and you may imagine how surprising such a phenomenon must appear in these parts. We requested the ser- vants not to awake the master of the house; and though unknown and wet, were conducted into the hand- somely furnished apartments appro- priated to strangers, where we pass- ed the rest of the night in an ill-hu- mour at this new delay. I was, in- deed, apprehensive of being obliged to remain longer here, recollecting an anecdote which was related to us concerning the late owner of For- viig, who, on the arrival of strangers, caused the rudder to be taken from their boat, that he might detain them at least so long as it would require to make another.

Previously to breakfast we were introduced to the family, the pro- prietor of the island and his son, who is likewise married. About noon a

t portly man, whose whole person had i at the first glance something uncom- monly imposing, entered the house. ! He wore a short jacket, and we J should scarcely have guessed whom I we had before us, had we not been apprized that it was Mr. Krogh von Belsvaag of Alstenoe, the right chi- valrous Bishop of Nordland, to say nothing of his Danish and Swedish orders of knighthood. He had on a hat, jacket, and breeches of goat- skin, the genuine Norwegian mari- time dress; and a bold and almost en- thusiastic seaman, he had just come up from the Fierring, attended by only one young fellow. He is a hand- some man of seventy, though appa- rently much younger, and who can still make so free with his constitu- tion, that being too warm when in company at Christiana, he rubbed his face and breast with snow. He has lately been to that city, where he sat as a member of the Storthing.

He speaks French and English flu- ently, and during the war with Eng- land, he once endeavoured to profit by the latter in order to make prize of a hostile ship off Drontheim. A vessel namely was discovered, that was manifestly unacquainted with the channel, and which it was of course considered could be no other than an enemy. General consternation ensued : Krogh quickly formed a plan for running the ship ashore; disguis- ed himself, and rowed in a boat on board the supposed privateer, pre- tending, in order to gain confidence, that he was an English sailor who had escaped fx'om a wreck. His plan succeeded according to his wishes ; but it presently turned out that the ship was not an enemy, but a native

UOYAL OCCUPATIONS IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

4,"

vessel, and the affair terminated in a hearty laugh.

On another occasion, the bishop thought to surprise some visitors whom he expected. Perceiving their sailing-boat at a distance, he swam towards her, and concealed himself among the sea -grass on a jutting cliff*; a joke for which, however, he had well nigh paid dearly, for one of the company, mistaking him for a seal, was just going to point his gun, when the bishop deemed it advisa- ble to make himself known.

We heard many more such-like anecdotes of this prelate, whenever

he became the subject of conversa- tion. His blunt jovial manner, which in the capital produced a general prepossession in his favour, cannot derogate in the least from his episco- pal character in his diocese : it would be extremely difficult to find a per- son better suited to the post. Here example alone can operate powerful- ly; and how could the Norwegian feel such enthusiastic affection and respect for a bishop, who neither knew how to brave the sea, the pe- culiar element of the people, nor to accommodate himself to the manners of the country I

ROYAL OCCUPATIONS IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY.

TO THE EDITOR.

Sin,

In your last Number you have introduced a brief description of an entertainment given to our Charles I. followed by a just animadversion on the puerile taste of the age which could relish such frivolities. What sentence, then, ought to be passed on the amusements which were the de- light of a French monarch only half a century earlier?

The favourite occupations of Hen- ry III. consisted in dressing his own and the queen's hair, and in starch- ing and plaiting his own ruff and that of his consort. These employ- ments took up so much of his time on the day of his coronation, and af- terwards on that of his nuptials, that the procession could not repair to the church before six o'clock, and the lateness of the mass caused the Te Deum to be forgotten to be sung. At balls and other diversions, he ap- peared habited as an Amazon, in fe- male attire, with his bosom uncover-

ed, and a collar of pearls hanging down upon his breast. He wore be- sides, like the ladies of his court, a small toque, over which he himself frizzed his hair, and three bands of fine linen, two of which were plaited into ruffs, and the other inverted. These bands occasioned the remark, that his head looked like that of John the Baptist presented to King Herod upon a charger. When Sully was admitted to an interview with him in 1586, he had a toque on his head, a tippet on his shoulders, and a broad ribbon round his neck, from which was suspended a basket full of pup- pies.

As Henry assumed the female at- tire, so he enjoined the ladies of his court to adopt the dress of men. They were obliged to obey, and at- tended at a grand entertainment in male apparel made of damask of two different colours.

Notwithstanding these follies, Hen- ry III. introduced into the eticpiette

46

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

of the court many regulations, which continued for a considerable time af- ter his death. He made the dress worn on extraordinary occasions by members of the Parliament much more splendid than it had ever been before. He set the first example of mourning in black on the death of his brother; the Kings of France having previously been accustomed to wear violet-coloured clothes for mourning. The ladies mourned for husbands and lovers in brown appa- rel, with death's heads or floods of tears painted or wrought in gold on

their collars or bracelets. By way of second mourning, they exchanged the death's heads and bones for mi- niatures of the deceased, which they wore at their breasts, but which were still surrounded with representations of showers of tears.

Had Henry's character betrayed no worse propensities than these puerilities bespeak, it would have excited pity, instead of being devot- ed, as it is, to universal abhorrence and execration. I am, &c.

HlSTOlUCUS.

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

(Extracted from Letters written in 1821 and 1822.,)

Nov. 1821.

The Portuguese apply to their capital the well-known saying, " Who- ever has not seen Lisbon has not seen any thing beautiful." Many of them are even perfectly well disposed to believe the assertions of their his- torians, that Lisbon was founded by Ulysses, and Setuval, a port not far from it, by Tubal, the son of Noah. Be this as it may, we must do Ulysses the justice to admit, that he shewed great judgment in his selection of a site for the capital of the Lusitanian monarchy.

Situated in the 38th degree of north latitude, Lisbon enjoys a heal- thy climate, neither too hot nor too cold, a fertile soil, delightful envi- rons, and a favourable position for the commerce of the old and new world. The majestic Tagus, on the shore of which the city stands, about twelve miles from its mouth, is capa- ble of admitting the largest fleets, and ships of war of all demensions can lie at a short distance from the quays. In some parts the river is

rather narrow, but towards the east end of the city it forms a spacious bay, which, however, is not very safe for vessels in the winter season.

The city, built upon hills, extends, with the suburbs, nearly nine miles along the river; and that portion of it which is on the left bank presents a view that is highly picturesque. In general, it is irregularly built, with the exception of that part which was destroyed by the earthquake of 1755, and succeeded by handsome regular streets. To this quarter belongs a fine square, composed entirely of pub- lic edifices, which are not yet quite finished. To these belong the Ex- change, the Custom-House, the In- dia-House, the offices of the six mi- nisters, the Junta of Commerce, the Town-House, and several courts of justice ; and in the centre of the square is an equestrian statue in bronze of King Joseph I. The south side of the square is bounded by a fine quay ; on the west begins the great arsenal ; and from the north run three regu- lar, broad, and pretty long streets to

LISBON AND THIS PORTUGUESE.

47

the Rocio-square, which has recent- ly acquired some political celebrity from the assemblage of the troops who complied with the call of their comrades at Oporto. Here too stood the structures in which the Inquisi- tion and the Regency had fixed their respective seats. The dungeons of the former are demolished, and with their ruins the Rocio-square has been levelled; even the statue represent- ing Faith has been taken down from the building, after long preparations. A few days before its removal, I was looking at these preliminary opera- tions, when a person behind me re- marked to another, " Christian Chari- ty is already gone, Faith is going; so that we shall have nothing left us but Hope." In the middle of the square, the foundation has been laid for a monument commemorative of the regeneration of Portugal*; but unluckily the subscriptions have not come in so freely as to allow the work to be carried on with activity; neither have I yet seen the plan for this monument, but as a national con- cern, it will of course be the work of a native artist. A member of the Cortes even proposed that the iron railing, by which it is to be surround- ed, should be brought from San Faolo, in Brasil.

Near these two squares there are several other regular streets; but the old town presents a spectacle equally irregular and disgusting. The nas- tiness of the streets of Lisbon is known all the world over, and there is no

* As these letters were written pre- viously to the last political revolution in Portugal, there can be no doubt that the monument in question, if completed at all, will be devoted to a purpose the very reverse of its original destination.— Edi- tor.

sort of filth but is allowed by the po- lice regulations to be thrown out of the windows after ten o'clock at night. How often this operation is perform- ed without the three warnings re- quired by law, or how frequently it may take place at an earlier hour than it ought,' may be conceived by those who are acquainted with the supineness of the police. Dead dogs, cats, and even asses and horses, may be seen lying in the streets for days together. Some of the streets have sewers, and others none. Troops of dogs without owners rove about in quest of food; and when they meet with a scanty supply, you are disturb- ed the whole night by the howling of the hungry creatures. The French killed thousands of these beasts; but in the present filthy state of the streets, the Portuguese consider them as necessary animals; so that at every open shop you see a bucket of water placed for these destitute creatures, lest they should perish with thirst.

About ten o'clock the streets of Lisbon become quite dull, and in this particular it forms an exception to all the large cities of the south of Europe. All the shops without dis- tinction, all the taverns and coffee- houses must then be shut up, agree- ably to the regulations of the police ; universal silence pervades the streets at the hour of ten, and during the rest of the night, it is only here and there that you meet persons return- ing from the theatre or from private parties.

Robbery and murder are not rare, especially in winter. The town is tolerably well lighted. The pave- ment is throughout wretched, and the public squares are not paved at all: in some of them, previously to the entry of the French, there were

48

LISBON AND THE PORTUGUESE.

mountains of dirt. To their credit be it observed, that out of the con- tribution of two hundred millions of crusadoes which they imposed, they expended two hundred thousand on cleansing the city.

The dwelling-houses are commo- dious; but as for specimens of beau- tiful architecture, Lisbon has nothing of the kind to produce. Whoever has seen the churches and convents in Italy, can derive little gratification from those of this capital. In num- ber indeed it may equal any city of Italy; but for architecture, sculpture, paintings, and works of art in ge- neral, the Portuguese edifices are far inferior. One of the most spa- cious convents in the heart of the city is S. Francisco de Cidade, or as we might justly transpose the name, Cidade de S. Francisco, because it is almost large enough for a city. The poor mendicant monks have col- lected by begging money for build- ing a church, that is to equal, as they say, St. Peter's at Rome ; but which, with the exception of the bare walls and the facade, will probably remain for ever unfinished ; for the monks have lost all their influence under the new system, and few persons will now lend money in expectation of re- ceiving it back with interest in the next world.

The largest of the churches is that of St. Domingo, but besides its mag- nitude I have not been able to find in it any thing worthy of notice. The newest church and convent is that of Estrella, erected by the late queen, Donna Maria I. and dedicated to the Heart of Christ; because all the saints were supplied with churches, and a more worthy object could not be found for a patron to so pious a foundation. The good queen ex-

pended millions in obtaining from his holiness the consecration of a festival to the " Heart of Christ ;" and she expended millions more upon a church and convent, which are still unfinish- ed, and not worth the sums lavished upon them.

Upon the whole, there are very few public buildings in Lisbon which are completed; and it is a trait in the character of the Portuguese, to begin every thing on a grand scale, and to leave it unfinished. Thus in Pombal's time a building was be- gun with magnificent subterraneous vaults, and carried up a few feet above the surface of the ground : it was intended for the public Trea- sury, and a large sum was spent upon it; but the whole is now covered with rubbish, and its completion is never thought of. It is to be sure much Aviser to leave it as it is ; for no such magnificent exterior is re- quired for an exchequer so empty as that of Portugal now is.

The new royal palace of Ayuda — out of Lisbon — is begun upon a very large scale, but not more than about a third of it is yet finished. They have been working at it God knows how many years ; and 400,000 cru- sadoes are allotted annually to the works, not for the purpose of pro- viding the king with a magnificent residence, but that thousands of per- sons may not be destitute of bread. Situated on an eminence above the castle of Belem, this palace com- mands a noble view ; but it has evi- dent faults in the architecture, which cannot fail to strike the spectator who has seen any edifices of the kind. In the entrance and fore-court, situ- ated on the east side, Portugal pur- posed to display the talents of her sons in sculpture ; but unluckily these

MUSICAL •RKVIKW.

49

artists engraved their names on the pedestals of the statues, in order to render themselves immortal together with their works. In my opinion, it would have been much more judi- cious, if, instead of their own names, they had favoured the public with those of the deities whom they de- signed to represent, for some of them absolutely require this sort of expla- nation.

At the foot of the palace is situated the old Gothic tower of lielem, at a place where the Tagus is narrowest, and where of course it may the more easily command ships with its can- non. Here the age of barbarism es- tablished dungeons, which are an everlasting disgrace to humanity. Some of them are nut only under

ground, but constantly under water; and here state-prisoners languished out their lives, and died a lingering death.

In the city there is nothing further worthy of notice, but out of it, the beautiful aqueduct of Alcantara, which conveys water to Lisbon from the distance of some leagues, must not be omitted. Over the last two hills arches of free-stone, the middle- most of which is, I believe, 850 feet high, conduct the water to a spacious reservoir, which is adequate to the supply of the city for several months. This aqueduct is built with such so- lidity, that not a stone of it was dis- placed by the earthquake of 1755. ( To be continued.) ■

MUSICAL REVIEW.

PIANO-FOItTE.

Effusio Musica, ou Grande Fan- taisie pour le Piano-forte, dediee a M. Catel, Professeur au Con- servatoire a Paris, par Fred. Kalkbrenner. Op. 68. — (Clementi and Co. and Chappell and Co.) Mr. Kalkbrfnnku, we believe, is a pupil of Monsieur Catel, as far as relates to the science of music at least, and he has here brought an of- fering to his master, which is highly honourable to both parties. If we were to give an opinion in general terms upon this fantasia, we should say, that it exemplifies in a striking manner the wonderful degree of per- fection to which execution on the piano-forte has been carried by the present generation, and by Mr. K. in- dividually: it also exhibits a pretty complete epitome of most of the Vol. HI. No. XIII.

higher harmonic combinations which we are accustomed to expect in the productions of the masters of the art, Mr. Kalkbrenner having con- centrated here the essence of the best of the kind from the purest sources, and infused over it the charm of his own manner of treatment. In these gleanings and recollections* and imitations (of harmonic combinations of the first order) we have recog- nised several old friends, Mozart in particular: the plaintive accents in Donna Anna's great recitativo are occasionally distinguished in the first movement; the awful notes of the spectre resound more decidedly p. 13 ; and Rossini's vivacious style has pro- bably had some influence on the pres- to, p. 22.

In a fantasia an author does as he pleases, and if a critic asks a ques- H

50

MUSICAL IMiVlKWi

tion, he has a right to answer, " I have done the thing so, car tel est notre plaisir." In the present case, therefore, if we sought for a greater quantum of melody than Mr. K.'s fantasia exhibits, he might with jus- tice say, that his object was to write a fantasia of deep and varied modu- lation, and of scientific texture; and that if now and then a cantable line or two is given, such as in p. 8 (which did our heart good after so much se- rious and complicated harmony), the critic has no reason to complain. Mr. K. besides, might fairly refer us to the fine adagio, p. 14, and justly ask whether that was not melody the most attractive, the most delicate, and sensitive ? This it certainly is for a little while; but then the fantasifi- cation soon comes over it, and, Avith the most consummate artifice, ren- ders it highly seasoned for our plain palate.

We had better be contented with Mr. K.'s labour, such as it is ; for in its kind it is excellent, nay, wonder- ful: it would quite suffice, had he written nothing else, to establish his fame in every musical country, and it will, vigorous as his days yet are, outlive the author, we are sure.

That a fantasia of this description will put the greatest executive pow- ers to the test, may easily be ima- gined. It is one of those pieces con- cerning which Woelfl observed to us, " Let dem learn it; I have been ob- lished to learn it myself after I wrote it." As a work for practice and stu- dy, the fantasia deserves the notice and unwearied diligence of the high- er proficients. They will find dou- ble parts for one hand, fugues, coun- terpoints, and innumerable digital niceties in abundance. A work of this description ought to be carefully

read, and considered by portions, be- fore a finger is put to the instrument. A new Divertimento for the Piano- forte, by Mayseder. Pr. 2s. 6d, — (Boosey and Co. Holies-street.) A seasonable relaxation to us from the intense study which the consider- ation of the preceding work required. Mr. Mayseder is more of a violin- player than a " pianiste." So much the better, plenty of melody and less intricacy; for a composer seldom is found to write any thing more diffi- cult than what he can master him- self. This divertimento indeed is all melody, clear as daylight, graceful and unaffected, and of easy execu- tion. It consists of an adagio and an allegretto in D major; the former full of tender expression, and the. latter in a playful polacca style, with abundance of pretty attractive ideas. Mr. M. however, has evidently drawn freely upon Rossini, at least as to manner. The " minorizing" his ca- dences for instance, and the whole plan of the gradual accumulation of bustle (from " piu mosso," p. 7), are obvious Rossinisms. Mantis mannm lavat. The gran maestro is not over scrupulous either in these matters. Cramer's favourite Serenata, ori- ginally composed for the Harp, Piano-forte, $c. arranged for the Piano-forte, and dedicated to Mrs. John Austin, by G. Kiallmark. Pr. 4s. — (Chappell and Co.) This being merely a compressed adaptation of a serenata sufficiently known, all that can be required of us is, to say that Mr. K.'s arrange- ment appears to be satisfactory and effective. As the composition in- gratiates itself with the ear, and the extract by Mr. K. is not difficult, his labour no doubt will meet with a fa* vourable reception.

MUSICAL KF.VIJIW.

51

" The Lisle," a French March, adapt- ed for the Pianoforte, with a Co- da and Rondo, composed by J. M' Murdie, Mus. Bac. Oxon. Pr. 2s. 6d.— (Clementi and Co.) The march in E b, and trio in A b , are fairly brought forth, except that their bass is a little stiff* and unvariedly monotonous. In the co- da, two or three well-chosen chords produce effect. The rondo is but a variation (with some digressive por- tions) of the march itself, and hardly that, for time and melody very nearly are the same. In the form of rondo, however, the air tells well. The rondo has also a part in A b , into which it slips rather by a licence. In the 7th page the modulations do not possess sufficient clearness of plan and diction. The portions in C mi- nor, and A b , p. 8, and the winding up, p. 9, are quite satisfactory.

PIANO-FORTE VARIATIONS.

Of the compositions of this class, numerous in the extreme as usual, the following claim our notice: Brilliant Variations for the Piano- forte to the favourite Air " Ma Fanchette est charmante" dedicat- ed to her Serene Highness Ma- demoiselle d 'Orleans, by Henry Herz. Op. 10. Pr. 6s. — (Boosey and Co.)

If our critical labours were to be directed to none but variations of this stamp, our dislike to this class of compositions would soon be sub- dued: indeed we then should proba- bly be but seldom called upon to re- view variations at all; for such as these do not present themselves every month.

Mr. Herz, we understand, is a German professor, at present resid- ing at Paris : this is the first work of

his Muse that has come under our cog- nizance, and it is quite sufficient to en- able us to knowour man. He belongs to the few of the great school. With- out fatiguing our readers with any analysis of excellencies, we content ourselves with assuring them, that those whose skill is adequate to the task — for there are difficulties to be overcome — will find these variations equal probably to the best in their collection. They abound in every feature which we expect to meet with in works of classic pretension: more we need not say.

Mr. Herz, we observe, has inter- posed a Tutti between each variation; a practice which, in some few in- stances, has recently been adopted by other composers of his rank, and which is attended with excellent ef- fect, even if the piano-forte alone should be compelled to execute that which, properly speaking, is intended for a full band. These Tutti afford a fine relief, and have the further advantage of presenting us with an additional portion of the composer's own invention. They should, of course, be all of varied import, yet possess some features of general re- semblance, akin in some measure to the theme — unity and variety. Mr. Herz's Tutti are of this descrip- tion: they are beautiful; and, like those of Mr.Moscheles,may be look- ed upon as models. No. XXIV. " Scots whd had wi' Wallace bled " a celebrated Air, with Variations for the Piano- forte, Flute, and Violoncello; com- posed, and inscribed to her Grace Caroline Duchess of Richmond, by J. Mazzinghi. Pr. os. — (Gould- ing and Co.)

The accompaniments are ad libi- tum. The variations, ten in number, II 2

~>i

MUSICAL HliYIKW.

possess that fanciful ease and fluency which the great experience and good taste of Mr. M. lead us to expect as a matter of course in any thing that proceeds from his pen. The execu- tion, also, is far from requiring ex- traordinary exertions. The much-admired Scottish Air, " Let us haste to Kelvin Grove" introduced in the Opera of " Guy Mannering," arranged with Va- riations for the Piano-forte, by J. C. Nightingale, Organist of the Foundling Hospital. Pr. 2s. — (Monro and May, Holborn Bars.) Caraffa's celebrated Cavatina " A ure Felice," from " La Cenerentola" arranged with Variations for the Piano-forte, by the same. Pr. 2s. — (Monro and May.) The variations upon both these themes are written in an easy familiar style, and yet with a selectness in point of ideas and treatment, which will distinguish them from the rou- tine productions of this class, so plen- tifully dispensed to the public.

We should prefer the variations upon the Scotch air, as exhibiting more ease and fluency, perhaps even gracefulness of diction, than those upon Caraffa's cavatina. The cause of this difference, we doubt not, lies in the nature of the themes, and more particularly of their harmonic structure. Caraffa's, with all its fas- cinating originality, exhibits some heterodox progressions, such as C, .", 5; D,3, 5, &c. which, when we first heard the air sung by Signor Torri, proved rather indigestible to our de- licate scholastic organs, and which indeed, as we observed in a former Number, some conscientious varia- tioner disdained following, substi- tuting at once the more current C, 8, 5; G, 7, &c. But one gets used

to these things in time, and at last thinks them extremely neat. It is these questionable harmonies which, when they come to be amplified by variation, prove troublesome and awkward in the management. This difficulty appears to us to have been felt in some of the variations, No. 2. for instance ; and where the authentic harmony is less adhered to, as in No. 4. less inconvenience is experienced, and the variation comes out more round and satisfactory. The waltz, No. 5. is in good style ; and in the march which follows, as well as in the coda, Mr. N. has been very successful.

Having already encroached upon our limits, we must be brief in our notice of the Scotch theme. Most of the variations, eight in number, are of decided interest. The style of No. 3. is fresh and select: the demisemiquaver passages in No. 4. are melodized with uncommon ease and fluency : the waltz, No. 5. pro- ceeds pleasingly, at least the first part; the second is less smooth: the little morceau of march, No. G. is quite as it should be : the triplets (No. 7.) well picked and assorted; and the eighth variation terminates the whole with effective energy.

What enhances the value of these variations, is the ease with which they may be executed. They are quite within the reach of a good pupil of a twelvemonth's standing'.

VOCAL COMPOSITIONS.

Vocal Anthology, or the Flowers of Song. Part VII. Pr. 6s. — (Gale, Bru ton-street.)

The contents of this number are,

a celebrated Madrigal by Orlando

Gibbons; two Scottish Melodies;

J Rossini's " Oh mattutini Albori;" a,

MUSICAL KKYII.W

53

beautiful Motett (" Rorate Coeli") by tbe Abbe Vogler (to the biographi- cal notice of whom we have to add, that he died at Darmstadt in 1814); Haydn's well-known Canzonet, " She never told her love" (a perfect musi- cal cabinet picture) ; a Song by Rei- chardt; another by Carl Maria von Weber, the author of the celebrated opera " Der Freyschlitz" (the mag- nus Apollo of modem German mu- sic) ; and an original French Song by Mr. Cather, of decided merit, tole- rably, but not throughout, correct in point of French prosody. " Ah qual concento" Romance from

the Opera " Tebaldo e Isolina"

composed by Morlachi. Pr. 2s. —

(Boosey and Co.)

A new musical acquaintance, and an important one, as far as the name goes. Morlacchi, born at Pe- rugia in 1784, and now, we believe, Maestro di Capella at Dresden, has numerous partisans in Italy, who pre- fer him to Rossini. It would be pre- posterous in us to form our estimate of his merits from the first song; that has met our eye. Rossini has writ- ten many which are worse, and many greatly superior. Thus much we can aver for the present, that this romance presents great freshness, delicacy, and elegance of musical diction, without absolute novelty of thought. The idea of allotting to the voice a series of interrupted sentences in recitative, while the instruments proceed with a regular and continued subject, and eventually only to assign that subject to the singer too, is of the happiest effect. Some reminiscences from WeigeVs " Schweitzer familie" (Swiss family) are not to be mistaken. But the composition as a whole is fasci- nating. It has vocal passages of dif- ficult execution; a circumstance which

should always induce publishers to add, above the stave, an easier ver- sion, so as to render the song more generally accessible. " In quel modesto Asilo," Duetto Notturno per Soprano e Tenore, compost 6, e dedicato a Mlla. A. Beresford, da Val»»- Castelli. Pr. 2s. — (Boosey and Co.) A vein of sympathizing tenderness distinguishes this duet favourably. The first strain proceeds in select melodic combinations, not without J some originality. In the 7th bar (p. 1,) ! we should have preferred contrary motion in the accompaniment ; and if there is to be G b in the second crotchet, we should have minorized the first too, by substituting C b for C tq . In the second page, some hard progressions present themselves in the two places where the soprano has " sospirera." But the duet, as a whole, cannot fail to interest the amateur.

Selection of Songs, Duets, fyc.from t/te most admired German Operas, with English Words by Thomas Campbell, Esq. No. III. Pr. Is. 6d. — (Boosey and Co.) This number contains an air of Beethoven with an English text by Mr. M'Gregor Logan. Beethoven has composed some most charming j songs, and some of very inferior me- rit. The present hardly belongs to the first class ; indeed without the war- ranty of the respectable publishers, we should hesitate to ascribe it to so great a master. Have his " Herz mein Herz," his " Kennst du das Land," not to mention several others of first-rate beauty, been ever joined to an English text? " ' Tis not the beam of a languishing eye" a Ballad, sung hy Mr. Bra- ham at the Theatre Royal Drury-

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MUSICAL KI.VIKW.

Lane, composed by N. C. Bochsa. — Pr. Is. 6d.— (Chappelland Co.) A pretty little song, of graceful melody and simple yet effective ac- companiment. Every thing is in good j taste and keeping.

" The Sea-Boys Call" Canzonet, j composed for, and dedicated to, Miss Ann Shuttleivorth, by G. Kiallmark. Pr. 2s. — (Chappell and Co.) " Send round the rosy cup" a fa- vourite Song sung by Mr. Coul- den at the London Concerts, Sfc; written by Mr. J. E. Gifford; composed by J. Monro. — (Monro and May, High-Holborn Bars.) " Can I forget," the admired Bal- lad written by D. O'Meara, Esq. sung by Mr. Pyne at the Theatre Royal Covent- Garden, fyc. com- posed by J. Davy. Pr. Is. 6d. — (Monro and May.) Without entering upon any com- parison, which would greatly depend upon particular taste, we briefly no- tice the above three songs as possess- ing claims, nearly equal, to the ama- teur's favour.

In Mr. Kiallmark's, the Siciliana is peculiarly attractive, and the ex- pression at " Spring up, good breeze," extremely happy.

Mr. Monro's anacreontic effusion has an agreeable, lively, and symme- trical melody; all is devised with taste and propriety.

" Can I forget," by Mr. Davy, is rather high for common voices. The motivo, and the whole of the first vocal page, are tastefully devised, but we should not have given to the whole of the four commencing bars the tonic harmony. From " That loves to soften others' woe," our opi- nion is less favourable. The musi- cal diction is not sufficiently clear,

select, and impressive. Much more might have been made of that part of the text.

HARP. " La Chasse au Renard," a charac- teristic Fantasia for the Harp, composed for, and dedicated to, Miss H. E. Warneford, by N. Bochsa. Pr. 4s. — (Chappell and Co.)

The Fox - Chase of Mr. B. is a highly characteristic and so very en- tertaining a composition, that, we make sure, it would have great suc- cess under an adaptation for the pi- ano-forte, which would require little substantial alteration. The whole of the incidents of the sporting ex- pedition from " Daybreak" to the " Death" (which latter, by the way, is left to conjecture, but easily recog- nised), are appropriately and very in- telligibly depicted; and the composi- tion, independently of its descriptive interest, possesses decided musical merit.

" Cruda Sorte," the celebrated Ter- zetto in " Ricciardo e Zoraide," by Rossini, arrangedfor the Harp and Piano-forte, expressly for the Right Lion. Lady Caroline Ben- tinck, by Cipriani Potter. Pr. 4s. — (Booscy and Co.) Mr. P. no doubt had his reasons for allotting the brunt of action to the piano-forte, and indulging the harp with a very reduced portion of execution. The latter instrument in fact is here but one of accompani- ment. With this reserve (perhaps a welcome one to many harpists), we are warranted in bestowing unqualified encomiums upon the arrangement ; it is most rich and effective. " Grand Russian March" for the Harp, composed, and dedicated

LONDON FASHIONS.

OS

to Miss Burnett, by N. C. Boch- sa. Pr. 2s. 6d. — (Chappcll and Co.)

The march in E b , and its trio in A b> are °f regular construction, clear and good in melody, without rising what we should call above the par in good music.

The same remark applies to the second piece, the " Mazurka," a Rus- sian dance movement, resembling the waltz in its musical character. The favourite Air, " We're a nod- din," with an Introduction and Va- riations for the Harp by S. Dus- sek. Pr. 2s. — (Chappell and Co.) Second French Air arranged for the Harp by the same. Pr. Is. 6d. — (Chappell and Co.) Miss Dussek, we presume. The name of Dussek, so dear to us, is not disgraced in its representative. Both the publications are themes with va- riations, and both are susceptible of the same remarks. They are not, and affect not to be, compositions of the higher order; but they are throughout conceived in good style,

correct, and certainly highly agree- able. The introduction to the first is particularly meritorious.

GUITAR.

Forty easy Pieces and Eight short Preludes for the Guitar, composed for the Use of Beginners by Fer- dinand Carulli. Op. 1. (of Works • composed in London.) Pr. 5s. — (Boosey and Co.) As the guitar is not our instru- ment, our notice of this publication must necessarily be confined to its musical merit. The pieces are strict- ly progressive, pleasing in point of melody, and correct as to harmony.

Messrs. Boosey and Co. have pub- lished two well-executed lithographic prints, by Gauci, of Rossini and Moscheles. The latter we know to be a good likeness. Of the resem- blance of Rossini we cannot yet judge. Although the maestro is in London, we have not yet bad an op- portunity of seeing him.

FASHIONS.

LONDON

MORNING DRESS.

Twilled sarsnet or levantine high dress, of a deep green colour, called by the French eau de Nil : the cor- sage fastens behind with hooks and eyes ; is made to fit the shape, and ornamented with perpendicular wad- ded satin rouleaus of the same co- lour and equidistant: broad satin ceinture, with a uniform rosette be- hind. Long tight sleeve, edged with satin at the wrist, and fastened with a satin band, the outer part formed into a diamond, with a wadded knot

FASHIONS.

in the centre. Short full upper sleeve, confined by satin rouleaus placed longitudinally, and supported with satin knots. The bottom of the dress has six wadded satin rouleaus, each headed with a narrow piping formed into waves or festoons, and supported with wadded satin knots ; beneath is a broad satin hem: richly worked collerette and ruffles. Bonnet de jolie femme of British Mechlin lace ; long strings of the same, trim- med with lace like the borders, which are drawn very full at the sides, where

ffi

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRFSS.

a bow7 of pink gauze ribbon is intro- duced beneath the cap, being of one piece of lace. The head-piece is form- ed by two drawings, and ties behind with pink satin ribbon: three sepa- rate bows or puffings of broad shad- ed pink gauze ribbon are placed in front. Embossed gold ear-rings, chain, and ci'oss. Buff-colour Mo- rocco shoes, tied with ribbon of the same colour.

PROMENADE DRESS.

Pelisse of levantine silk, or Terry velvet, of a rich brown colour (cou- leur d'oreille d'ours), made plain and high to fasten in front, with a neat standing collar, edged with satin of the same colour. The velvet (velours epingle), which promises to be very fashionable this winter, has not been worn for many years : it looks like very narrow' cords, and forms elegant trimmings for silk pelisses: the cein- ture, which fastens with a gold buckle in front, and the leaves and knots of the trimming, are made of it. The trimming is scolloped, and edged with satin, having a pair of leaflets introduced at each point through a slit, which is bound with satin, and reunited with a velvet knot behind the leaves. The corsage is orna- mented from the shoulder to the waist, where the trimming approxi- mates, and widens again in descend- ing, till it reaches the ermine which goes round the bottom of the pelisse, and is a quarter of a yard in depth. The long sleeve has a full epaulette, ornamented with leaves, and the wrist is trimmed to correspond. Bonnet of the same material as the pelisse, lined with the same, and the inside edged with shaded velvet, rather more than an inch broad : the front a la Marie Stuart; the crown round, and rather low, ornamented with velvet flowers

and bows of shaded velvet. Bonnet cap of I Loniton, with very full bor- ders fastening under the chin. Full lace ruff and ruffles. Terry velvet boots, the colour of the pelisse. Pale yellow gloves, and a shell reticule, with silver chain.

! GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION

I

AND DRESS.

Our readers will have seen that i our anticipations last month respect- ing promenade and carriage dress have been completely realized. We have nothing new to say respecting : the former, but we have some novel- ties to describe in the latter, which 1 we consider worthy of the attention I of our fair readers. The first is a i pelisse of sea-green velvet, fastened

• up the front with Brandenburghs :

' the trimming consists of a row of 1 shells formed of corded gros de Na- ples, of the same colour, placed be- tween oblong satin puffs : this trim- ming goes round the bottom and up ; the fronts. The collar is low7, and ornamented with a single wreath of

• shells, and a small round pelerine is

\ trimmed to correspond with the eol- I lar. The long sleeves are of an easy | width, and are finished with shells at l the hand. The mancherons are small; they consist of two shells, which are partially crossed on the shoulder.

The trimming of a high dress of deep blue gros de Naples is singu- larly novel : it resembles serpents twisted together : the bust of this dress is ornamented with straps, which form a stomacher of the de- mi-lozenge form. Full maucheron, the fulness confined by straps,' so as to form a demi-lozenge in front of the arm. The corsage of another high dress was made en cceur, the shape of the heart being formed by very narrow rouleaus of satin, with

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON FASHION AND DRESS.

T(

rich silk, buttons intermixed. The trimming of the skirt consists df gauze bouillonnee, interspersed with satin disposed in crescents.

We observe that high dresses be- gin to be as much, if not more, worn in carriage costume than pelisses. The envelopes worn with them are either cachemire shawls or large fur tippets, and in many instances our elegantes adopt both. Tippets are worn extremely large, and long ones are more in favour than round.

Bonnets now begin to be worn larger, and black ones, both in velvet and satin, are very prevalent. There are two distinct styles which prevail in this kind of coeffure, and both equally fashionable. One is remark- able for its extreme plainness, the bonnet being altogether black ; that is to say, it is lined with the material of which it is made, and adorned with superb plumes of black feathers. The other style is as showy as possible ; the bonnet and lining are black, but the edge of the brim is corded with crimson, or some other striking co- loured satin: a full black knot placed at the bottom of the crown is adorn- ed in a similar manner, and the fea- thers correspond with the colour of the cords. We have seen also a good many black bonnets with coloured strings, coloured bands at the edge of the brim, and adorned with gar- lands of winter flowers. Rose-co- loured gros de Naples, velours si- mule, and pluche de sole, decorated with white feathers, are also much in favour for carriage hats and bonnets. One of the most novel of the last has a remarkably low crown, which is en- tirely covered by a quantity of Ma- rabouts, that surround and droop over it.

Vol. III. No. XIII.

A new material, called Camelia, is in favour in morning dress, but it is not so generally adopted as poplin, reps silk, or gros de Naples. The newest forms for morning dress are those which we have just described in speaking of carriage costume.

Coloured satin begins to be much in favour both in dinner and evening dress: one of the prettiest gowns we have seen in the former is of crimson satin, trimmed with crepe lisse of the same colour, mixed with velvet. The trimming consists of bouffants, which are formed at regu- lar distances by velvet ornaments in the shape of lions' paws. The cor- sage of this dress is finished round the top by a row of blond let in full, drawn to the shape of the neck, and finished by a row of very narrow vel- vet points. Coloured tulle over co- loured satin is still much in favour for evening dress. White tulle, or white crepe lisse, is more in request for ball dresses. Some of the newest trimmings for these latter consist of bouquets of lilies formed of the down of the Marabout, and interspersed with branches of laurel-leaves in vel- vet. Another pretty style of trim- ming is a chain of various flowers of the smallest size, which are fancifully unwreathed in drapery folds of gauze or crepe lisse. Waists are still worn very long, and the corsage in even- ing dress is cut extremely low round the bust; sleeves rather short, and in general very full. Toques and turbans are, as we predicted, much in favour with all but very youthful belles, who adorn their tresses with flowers or pearls. Coloured gems are much in favour with elegant matrons. The most novel ear-rings in gold have the pendant in the shape of a I

.08

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

heart, exquisitely wrought. Brooches of rather a large size set in gold, forming a flower surrounded by fo- liage, are also much in favour.

Fashionable colours are, maroon, bright crimson, damask-rose colour, dark chesnut, lavender, and fawn co- lour.

FRENCH FEMALE FASHIONS.

Paris, Dec. 18.

My dear Sophia,

Our promenade costume this month is nearly what it was when I wrote last, except that furs have be- come more general; that is to say, fur tippets and trimmings for dress- es : for muffs are not at all used by the French, but are generally adopt- ed by all the stylish English belles, of whom there are at present a great number in Paris.

Bonnets are of velvet, gros de Naples, and some new inventions in silk plush. The latter have always the same kind of ground, but it is differently figured in quadrilles, lo- zenges, or wolves' teeth. Black vel- vet or satin bonnets are in favour; they are in general trimmed with rib- bons, shaded in strikingly contrasted colours, and of a rich dark tint: there are generally three colours in the fea- thers of the bonnet, to correspond with the ribbon.

It is this year the fashion to go very much dressed to the spectacle: redingotes habilUes are much used for this purpose; they are composed of gros de Naples or velvet, but the latter is most fashionable. The trimming is satin, with sometimes a mixture of gros de Naples; it is ar- ranged either in rouleaus, coaues, or folds. If the redingote is of gros de Naples, it is always of a very dark colour, but trimmed with satin some shades lighter. In some instances the satin is of a different colour.

Shawls and mantles are in nearly

equal favour for the spectacle: the most fashionable among the form- er have a bright crimson or black ground, with a high palm border, or one en rosaces. A new material has just been introduced for mantles, which promises to become very fa- shionable : it is composed of wool ; is extremely fine, light, and soft; is printed so as to imitate embroidery very successfully, and is of sufficient width to form a mantle without a seam.

The alterations which have taken place since my last in full dress are mostly in head-dresses, some of the most novel of which I will try to de- scribe to you. The latest is the coef- f ure a la neige: in this head-dress the hair, disposed in a great number of small curls, which nearly cover the temples, and dressed very high be- hind, has seldom any other ornament than a pearl or diamond comb. In or- der to form a perfect idea of this coef- fure, you need only recall to your mind the portraits of Marie de Me- dicis, mother of Louis XIII. from which this antique fashion has lately been copied on the stage, and is now generally adopted in the first circles.

Cocffures a V JLspagnol are also in favour : the front hair is disposed in soft curls ; the hind hair, knotted at the ends with bows of black and rose ribbon, is fastened up in a very large knot on the crown of the head : three large coqacs of rose and black rib- bon placed behind this knot are par- tially covered by a black blond veil,

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

m

which, falling on the shoulders, shades the back of the neck.

It is now so much the fashion to wear the figures of birds and ani- mals in jewellery, that a wit, in speak- ing of a merveilleuse the other day, observed, that when she appeared full dressed, her jewels offered a good representation of a little mena- gerie. Her bracelets and neck-lace

serpents, her ear-rings doves, a mouse upon herring, a dog at her watch, her girdle clasped by a butterfly, and up- on her head a bird of Paradise.

Fashionable colours are, cocoa, bear's-ear, mantle of Socrates, pon- ceau, violet, deep blue, gold, and rose colours. Adieu, chcre Sopliie! Always your Eudocia.

FASHIONABLE FURNITURE.

A STUDY BOOKCASE AND MEDAL CABINET.