WHEN we were reading with delight the unpremeditated productions of this author's pen, which we reviewed in our last appendix,* and wondering by what means Madame de Staël had been enabled to obtain them, we did not know that they were extracted, as it now appears they were, from a mass which occupies twenty eight published volumes: but though we might deem it extraordinary, from the discordancy of our home experience, that any editor should present to the world too little of his author, we found it difficult to imagine that one who had written with so much good sense, and in so agreeable a manner, should not have furnished, in so long and active a life, more than two small duodecimo volumes worthy of preservation. It was therefore no matter of surprise to us that M. de Propiac, deeming his fair predecessor somewhat too fastidious in her principles of selection, should have wished to enlarge the privilege of admission, for the purpose of introducing a great variety of pieces equally entitled to notice with those which had been already presented to the world. Even now we suspect that these two publications, taken together, form rather a scanty than a too ample specimen of the works from which they are borrowed.†

If Madame de Staël had been necessarily confined within the limits which she adopted, we should

have been disposed to acquiesce in her choice of materials. The prince de Ligne's correspondence with crowned heads on the most important subjects of existing politicks, and his description to his intimate friends of his confidential intercourse with the rulers of the earth, are certainly the most prominently interesting of all his works: but when his editor was at full liberty to add to her selections, and had only to consider whether the publick should be treated with one entertaining volume more or less, her parsimony of citation is the more surprising, from the circumstance of the lady's being herself rather a voluminous author; for what can be more mortifying in itself, or more ominous to the prospect of future literary fame, than that a writer, confessedly popular and ingenious, should be cut down, in his life time, from twenty eight volumes in octavo, to two moderate duodecimos? How few works are susceptible of such mutilation; and how many hundreds of thousands must be extinguished, for ten that are thought worthy of it, and one that survives it!

Of the Œuvres Choisies by M. de Propiac, a small portion consists of letters; the more considerable part being composed of detached essays on various subjects, chiefly political and military: with critical observations on the author's studies (which seem to have been almost entirely historical) curious anecdotes of his

own times, and certain general maxims and reflections, which usually indicate the greatest good sense, and are expressed with ease and felicity. In "all his thoughts, words, and works," it is marvellous to witness the predominancy of the military spirit. Cesar is his hero in ancient history, and Frederick in that of modern times. He is never tired of tracing a parallel between their qualities, their conduct, and even the accidents of their lives. He regards their genius with enthusiasm, and their odious vices with indulgence. The territory of Ligne, from which he drew his fortune and his title, was the scene of some of Cesar's minor operations in Belgick Gaul. Vestiges are still visible of intrenchments thrown up there by the Roman troops; and it is by no means impossible that such a circumstance might communicate the first martial bias to a young and ardent mind. At any rate, it would give the prince a relish for studying Cesar's Commentaries, which he seems to have retained through life. He forms an acquaintance with learned men for the purpose of understanding them more thoroughly; and he never forgets his politeness, except in a remonstrance with La Harpe for undervaluing his favourite hero. When he discusses the wretched state of the Jews, and proposes some methods of mingling them with general society, he falls immediately into a description of Potemkin's Hebrew regiment, called Israelowsky, and sketches the particular services on which they might be usefully employed. When he reports some curious facts relating to the nation of gypsies, or Bohemians, who are extremely numerous in several parts of Germany, he cannot refrain from speculating on the figure which they would make in the ranks. When he treats of landscape gardening, he imperceptibly glides into the same subject; in reference and with subserviency to which he exclusively contemplates, when the fit is on him, all human affairs.

The prince de Ligne, however, is an author whom we would rather make known to our readers by his own conversation, than by our statement of it. The contents of the publication are much too multifarious to be abstracted: but we may range under two or three leading heads the passages which it is our intention to translate. We begin with some anecdotes more or less nearly con-. nected with that mighty subject, the French revolution, and shall first introduce the character of the too famous duke of Orleans.

"What was there in the world purer than the Chevalier de Durfort? [Orleans] de Ségur [father and son] de Lauzun, de Messieurs de Pons, de Thiars, de Coigny, Chabot, de Fitz-James, some others, and myself, would we ever have consented to visit him, if there had been the least appearance of his becoming a monster? We had seen him expose his life, to save that shooting, and weep, because his servant, of one of his people. We saw him abjure rising by mistake from a ditch, received from his gun a few small shot in his neck. I have seen him propose to fight on the footing of a gentleman. He was very parti cular, in matters that required delicacy, with many persons; adventurous and cool in a balloon; and set a good example at Ushant, whatever might be said; through self love too circumspect and perhaps rapacious in his wagers; frugal in small things, but generous in great. Fatal effect of levity, of disregard of character, which ambition, little supported as it was by merit! He was superstitious. I took him one day to a fortune teller in rue-Froidmauteau-the great Etrella. He predicted to him astonishing things, which my want remembering: but I recollect generally of faith prevented me from valuing or that something was said about Versailles and royalty, and I am persuaded that his head was turned by it. If it be so, what dreadful effects have flowed from my imprudence! The fortune teller informed me that I should die seven days after hear ing a great noise. I wait the accomplishment of the prophecy; but having since heard the noise of two sieges, and the firing of two magazines, I think that he was deceived.

leads to unforseen crime! fatal effect of

"The orgies of the duke of Orleans are a fable. He was well mannered even in the worst company; polite, with some hauteur, among men; respectful and attentive with

women; gay in himself, and of a good taste in pleasantry; he had rather the talent of saying good things, than that of supporting conversation. In other circumstances, he would have resembled the regent, whose turn of mind he possessed. He was well made, with a good mein, and handsome eyes. His infamous revolutionary intrigues must have rendered his face red, pimpled,* and hideous; for what passes in the mind is generally painted on the face. Having been his friend (a name of which he knew the value) I must weep for him before I can detest him, and forget the amiable man, before I abhor the wretch who voted for the king's death."

When the prince is talking of Marie Antoinette, considerable allowance will naturally be made for the loyal prejudices of an Austrian grandee.

"That unfortunate princess proved but too strongly, in encountering death, that her delicacy was too great, in not venturing to contradict the king or his ministers. The only serious business in which I ever saw her engaged was in preventing, as being both a French woman and an Austrian, the war which would have been excited, but for her, on the subject of the Scheldt. The ten millions which she engaged the king to lend to the Dutch republick, to pay the expenses of and appease the emperour her brother, gave occasion to that most stupid of all calumnies, that she made over considerable treasure to him. We had no need of it. The affairs of the house of Austria were in better condition than those of the house of Bourbon. The reproaches cast on her luxury were equally ill-founded. There never was a femme de chambre to the mistress of a king or a minister who had less. She took so little trouble with her toilette, that she permitted herself for several years to be dressed in the worst possible manner, by one Larceneur, who came to wait on her when at Vienna, that she might save him the pain of a dismissal. It is true that, when she came from under his hands, she drew her own through her hair to make it accord with the character of her face. As to the reproach against her for gambling, I never saw her lose more than two thousand louis; and that was at those games of etiquette, at which she was afraid of winning from those who were obliged to form her party. Often, indeed, after having received, on the first day of a month, 500 louis,

which were, I think, her pocket money, she had not a farthing left. I remember once being obliged to borrow among her footmen, and in her anti-chamber, twenty five louis, which she wished to give to an unfortunate woman. Her pretended gallantry was never any thing but a deep, and perhaps distinguished, sense of friendship for one or two persons, and a general coquetry from wishing as a woman and a queen, to please every body. Even at the period at which youth and inexperience might have engaged her to set herself too much at liberty, not one of us, who had the happiness of daily seeing her, dared to abuse it by the smallest impropriety. She acted the queen without suspecting it, and was adored by those who thought only of loving her.”

The succeeding passage may be considered as savouring a little of the scandalous style of gossiping, in which courtiers are apt to indulge themselves at the expense of reformers: yet, if the imputation were decidedly false, Madame de Staël would, perhaps, have noticed it, in order to rescue the memory of her father from the charge of such puerile stratagems,

"M. Neckar had employed M. de Pezai to write anonymous letters to Louis XVI. to speak well of him, and to offer his ma jesty good advice. Louis read them with pleasure. M. Neckar, wishing to know whether they were agreeable, desired Pezai to write that he would not continue them, unless the king, when passing through a glass door from his cabinet into the gallery, looked in a particular direction, and made a sign. All this was done, and Pezai continued. In these letters, he even went so far as to dictate to the king what he should say. 'You cannot reign, sire, by means of courtesy. Nature has refused it to you. Supply the place of it by a great severity of principles. Your majesty is going presently to a horse race. You will find there a notary, who will write down the wagers between the count d' Artois and the duke of Orleans. When you see him say: Why is this man wanted? Needs there be writing between gentlemen ? Their word is sufficient.' The incident actually occurred and I was present. Every body exclaimed: What justness of thinking, and what a royal saying!"

Our sensible author, though attached to the prevailing religion, laughs at the idea of infidelity being produced among men of rank by the manœuvres of a few anti-christian conspirators; and in his entertaining memoir of Bonneval (who began life as a careless sceptick, and concluded it as a devout mussulman) he makes the following observation: "I have considered what principally contributed to his irreligion, and think that it was probably owing to the works of Bayle, that famous Pyrrhonian. As it is only a step from doubt to incredulity, it was that which led him to make so great a progress. Let us not then accuse five or six men of wit, who are named as the perverters of Europe. Bonneval knew nothing of the pleasantries of Voltaire, nor of the contradictions of Jean Jacques Rousseau, nor of the declamations of Diderot, nor of the philosophy of D'Alembert."

We smile at the shrewdness of what is here said on the subject of Voltaire's infidelity, and the best mode of preventing it.

"Had I been as good a Christian as I am at present, and not quite so young as I was when at Ferney, I would lay a wager that I could have reconciled Voltaire to Jesus Christ, principally by telling him that his stupid enemies were infidels, and that he was commonly reported to be a Jew. The very next day, we should have had a libel against Jews and infidels. Quick, quick, father Adam,' he would have said, leave your children, and say mass directly; I believe in it, and shall attend it constantly every day."

The worthy marshal is, on all occasions a warm advocate for the principles of toleration, not more from a sense of its justice and humanity, than with a view to sound policy. His good sense and good nature equally revolt against every kind of persecution, of which he distinctly perceives the natural tendency to

defeat itself, and to perpetuate the supposed mischiefs which it most earnestly labours to prevent. In this case, not only does "increase of appetite grow by what it fed on," but the food is multiplied in proportion as it is devoured.

The short biographical sketch of the count de Bonneval is very spirited, but is followed by a few particulars, written by the count himself, with which we were more amused. We need hardly state that he was a subject of France by birth, and of Austria, by a long service in her armies; or that he engaged in disputes with leading men in the two governments, which made it necessary for him to take refuge in Turkey. Here he was vehemently reclaimed by both his courts, and was liable to be punished by either as a deserter. The grand signior could no longer resist the menaces of Austria; and the order for Bonneval's arrest was on the point of arriving at Serai, in Dalmatia, where he had taken refuge, when he resolved to declare himself a Turk:

"At Serai he had met a Turk whom he had formerly known at Milan in the service of a lady, his relation. This domestick was taken in the wars of Hungary, and afterward became a Mohammedan. The count de Bonneval had him near his person, and inquired of him whether he knew at Serai any good Mussulman who was capable of keeping a secret. He said yes:-Go and seek for that man, and bring him hither.'He then shut himself up in a chamber with these two men, and gave orders to the one who was in his service* to ask him whom he had brought, whether he knew positively the words which designate the faith of Mohammedans. The question was put, and the answer was yes, that he knew the words;- tell him to pronounce them, and I will repeat them after him,'—which was immediately done. The count again ordered these men to keep silence, and accompany him to the Pacha's. All the three went there, and he desired them to de

clare in the Pacha's presence, how he the count de Bonneval, was a mussulman. This declaration being made, the Pacha