madvert. It is the first duty of a sovereign to maintain good order; he watches over it every moment, restrains those who would disturb it, and sometimes sacrifices his own inclinations for its preservation. This sort of occupation is not favourable to grand thoughts, but it insures tranquillity, without which there is no enjoyment. The circumstance, which has ever appeared to me the most revolting in the society of kings, is that of having no will but theirs, of sacrificing one's pleasures and affairs to the lightest of their caprices, and with a submission and a readiness which exclude from the compliance every idea of merit. When it is also considered that the restraint of the most profound respect continually affects all that is said and done, even in the freest moments, it will be admitted that the jealousy and the enemies which are ever the appendages of royal favour are dearly purchased. It is a mistake to suppose that this familiarity with the monarch enables a man to solicit favours: for he must on no account presume to do this, or he runs the utmost risk of being for ever undone. It is a great question whether it is best that kings should cultivate society, or should shut themselves up in their palaces, and never appear but when surrounded with splendour and form. If on the one hand society meliorates the character of kings, presents them with a view of those ties which unite men, and of the reciprocal duties which that union requires, the difference between the education of the sovereign and that of private individuals gives the latter the advantage in this intercourse; and this commerce also acquaints the subjects with the imperfections and defects of the monarch; thus inducing an unfavourable opinion, the greatest misfortune perhaps that can befall a state. When kings, then, lay aside their grandeur, should they conceal themselves from the view of their subjects, and should they be regarded by them as those mysterious personages to whom they only owe the homage of respect? Let a wiser head than mine decide this question, with respect to courtiers. I subscribe to the opinion implied in the saying of Henry IV. Happy the country gentleman who lives on his estate, and who does not know me!' The e are the sentiments of a man near the close of life, who had spent most of his days in a court; sometimes enjoying distinguished favour, and always possessing great credit and consideration. It will be perceived that many of these observations, able and sensible as they are, only apply to the case of absolute monarchs; without being founded when made to refer to that of sovereigns whose powers are defined, and in whom the au thority of the state is vested conjointly with other orders. If our disapprobation has been strongly called forth by a few, and but a few, instances in which the pen of the Baron has given countenance to moral irregularities, this feeling has not blinded us to the great general worth of his character. When it is considered that his infancy and youth were consumed in camps, and that he passed the prime of life and the remainder of his days in a licentious and profligate court, the censure ought to be be gentle, and the applause cordial; and if a strong courtly bias pervades every page of these narrations, the situation of the author is an ample apology for it. It is impossible for us to give the reader an adequate idea of the strong light which these volumes throw on the reigns of the last two monarchs of the House of Bourbon. The observations which are made are neither refined nor brilliant, but they are those of a man of solid understanding, versed in a knowledge of the world and the intrigues of the court, and well acquainted with the course of public business. If there be several of his remarks in which we cannot coincide, we regard the greater number as extremely well founded. His facts and his representations, however, are the parts which enhance the value of his communications in our estimation; and in this view they will be of eminent use to the future historian. Yet we must not omit to state that, if the materials be authentic, they have been huddled together without any arrangement, assortment, or digest. If also the author's sketches be in general faithful, he rarely attempts a whole figure, or even a complete face; and the limbs and features lie scattered from one end of the volume to the other. ART. IX. Les Souvenirs de M. Le Comte DE CAYLUS, &c.; i. e. The Recollections of the Count DE CAYLUS, Member of the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres; printed from his inedited. Manuscripts, intended as a Supplement to the Recollections of Madame de Caylus, his Mother: with some Letters, also hitherto unpublished, from that Countess to her Son; and preceded by an historical Notice of the Life and Works of that Academician. 2 Vols. Izmo. PP. 368. Paris. b05. Imported by De Boffe. Price 75. THE HE anonymous editor of these detached pieces has not condescended to inform us in what manner he procured them, nor by what proofs he can establish their authenticity. The spirit and style of many of them certainly bespeak a mind of sensibility and refinement; and it may be true that he, whose name they bear, really collected them from his own observation, or from persons worthy of credit: but all this is too vague to satisfy the inquisitive and discerning. It is likewise not unreasonable to suppose that the person, who had access to the original papers of the Count DE CAYLUS, might have added something to the tame and hackneyed account of his life and writings. In vain, however, we have looked for untold anecdotes, or the recital of those literary incidents which form the charm of biographical writing; and which our grave philoso phers phers too often disdain in their dignified but frigid narratives. The present sketch is little more than a meagre compression of Lebeau's meagre Eloge. The few circumstances which are mentioned are highly creditable to the memory of Count CAYLUS but they were already sufficiently known to every reader who is conversant in French literature. Most of the little historical notices, which are inserted in these posthumous volumes, would have excited a lively interest at the times to which they refer but a new generation has sprung up, and events of unprecedented magnitude have ab. sorbed the attention and feelings of mankind. To the dark and contemptible intrigues of the Count d'Olivarez, the disgrace of Fouquet, the motives which induced the Chancellor Pont Chartrain to retire, &c. &c. we now listen as to "a tale that has been told." If the memorandums, to which we allude, really flowed from the pen of Count CAYLUS, they prove that his activity of mind extended to the character and private conduct of great personages, and that he was an acute observer of those court intrigues in which he never participated. The Story of Pamphilus and Melazia' is a pretty and diverting jeu d'esprit, addressed to Madame *** on the trying situation of a cornuto. The gallant and ambitious views of Mad. de Prye, and her influence at court, form the subject of some curious pages. These are followed by a long and eloquent letter from Father Caussin, Confessor to Louis XIII. exhorting Mad. La Fayette to persevere in her profession of a nun; and retracing the history of her pious resolutions, and of her separation from the king. The first volume concludes with the following por trait: Madame de St. Fierie is no longer young: but Nature, unwilling to lose what she had done for her beauty, seems to have studied to preserve it entire. Her's are not passing charms; nor is her beauty merely that which has been. In her, every thing is noble :-her coun tenance, her taste, the tong of her voice, the style of her letters, her speech, and her polite attentions. Her words are select without affectation, and her converse is agreeable and interesting. She forgets nothing, and she has seen much but she regulates the extent of her recitals by the pleasure of others. Without omitting any important circumstance, she leaves us to regret the shortness of the facts. If books were composed in the manner in which she speaks, the love of reading would be a general virtue. She chuses her friends with admirable discernment; and her friendship is courageous, and proof against every attack Yet, as all excellence usually borders on defect, the sensibility of her heart sometimes prevents her from seeing objects as they are; and her delicacy in regard to her friends is sometimes the cause of her withholding withholding from them,' and consequently from herself, what is due to justice. Naturally destitute of presumption, she leaves to others the care of knowing and estimating her character. The manner in which she listens gratifies those who speak to her, and allows them not to doubt that she hears them with favourable attention for nobody is more observant, and nobody more prepossessing. Would to heaven, that her example might correct the women of the present day! She is the better qualified to serve them as a pattern, because the gentleness of her manners naturally inspires confidence. In short, she is a person destined to move in the higher circles; and who gives us an idea of all that is said of the genuine politeness of the court.' The portrait of M. d' Ablé is touched with the same delicate discrimination, but the subject is less engaging. The section which is intitled Anecdotical Recollections, Bons Mots, and Short Reflections,' consists chiefly of short extracts from antient writers, and was certainly never intended for publication, in its present form. These passages were, perhaps, inserted occasionally in a common-place book, with the view of illustrating particular points of antiquarian criticism but, in their loose and disjointed state, they are little calculated to fix the attention of the reader. A few, however, may be quoted for their point, or humour: A king of Egypt was so successful in training monkeys to the art of dancing, that they were long admired for the dexterity of their movements. At length, a citizen, who loved fun, threw some walnuts into the ball room; when the creatures instantly forgot all their capers, and sprang to the booty.' In order to judge of a clever man, we must be as clever as he is.' Some painters have figured Fortune blind, and on a rolling rock, while others have given her hands and wings, but no feet. When Apelles was asked why he represented her in a sitting posture, he replied, because she had not yet learned to stand on her feet.' The next portrait is that of the Countess of Rochefort. Though too exquisitely finished not to suffer by translation, we doubt not that the English reader may be pleased even with an imperfect copy of part of the picture: Madame de Rochefort is young, and of that age in which taste is, for the most part, indicated only by its first perceptions. That age is to life what spring is to nature. Flowers are its only ornament. But when pocts have allowed their imagination to sport in agreeable fictions, they have fancied regions in which the smiling graces of spring are blended with the fruits of summer and autumn, and in which even hope may be realized. Madame de Rochefort belongs to these regions: they are her native country and her home. Her figure presents at first nothing that is particularly attractive : but it improves on being contemplated. It is the image of the morning, when the sun has not yet risen, and when we have a confused perception of a thousand agreeable objects. When she speaks, her countenance awakens; when she becomes animated, her expression is decidedly apparent, when she smiles, life kindles in her frame; and we at length love to gaze on her as on a landscape in which no separate object arrests attention, but of which the whole composition delights the spectator. Should she ever cast her eyes on this portrait, I shall tell her news of herself: for she is quite unconscious of all her worth; and others, from this very reason, perceive it, and feel it the more.' The gallantries of Mary of Medicis, and the incestuous. amours of Cardinal Richelieu, are treated with more elegance and interest than such odious subjects deserve. In another section, the author laments the decline of French literature, and ascribes the perversion of the public taste and the decay of the fine arts to an imitation of English manners and fashions. Every body, from the cradle, (as it were) wishes to be a master. Anglomania, above all, has spoiled the nation. A pretended philosophism has been imported from London, with the jockeys.'-Our censors now retort that we import philosophism from Paris; and this mutual recrimination reminds us of the following French epigram: Dorillas et Damon, ces deux fameux poëtes, Sur leurs vers ne sont pas d'accord: "On ne peut sans bailler lire ce que vous faites," Dit l'un: "En vous lisant," repond l'autre," on s'en dôrt.” We shall pass over some portraits, and the anecdotes relative to the amours of Louis XIV. to make room for part of the shade of Cardinal Richelieu : The mind of this man was lively and active, but always restless, and the constant enemy of the public peace, and of his own. Many reckoned him a great and astonishing character. Yet some of his intimate friends remarked in his composition a large portion of folly. Every thing fretted or shocked, and nothing soothed nor contented him. He long continued firm and powerful, more by his own authority and the empire which he violently usurped over the public mind, than by the kindness of his sovereign; and the accomplishment of his foolish schemes is to be ascribed rather to good fortune, than to his own prudence, or to the vigour of his counsels. In one respect, however, he was too unfortunate, since heaven manisfested its chastisement in those loathsome maladies, with which it afflicted him to the last that heaven from which he might have drawn stable comfort, salvation, and bliss, had he not preferred to seek for happiness in the ruin and misery of others, and in his own sufferings and perpetual tor : ments. Arr. Rev. VOL. XLVIII. LI " As |