The British Press; or, Morning Literary Advertiser.
London, England, 1825-09-08 00:00:00

FASHIONABLE INTELLIGENCE.

Arthur Stanhope, Esq. entertained the Dowager Marehionew of
Salisbury and a select party to dinner yesterday, at his villa, Bute
House, 13rompum.
The Duke of Portland has arrived at his seat, iVelbeck, Notts,
from a tour.
The Hots. William Ponsonby left town yesterday for Dorset-
shire.

E. Brand, Esq. has left town for Lord Matdonald's seat, Anna.
dale, Isle of lay; N. B.
The Dowager Countess of Gosfort and Lady: M. Acheson hat:
arrived at Thomas's Hotel, Berkeley.square, from Brighton.
Viscount Deerhurst has left town for his seat in Worcestershire.
Departures from the British- Hotel :—Capt. and Mrs. Price, for
Worthing ; W. Marsh, Esq. for ditto ; C. Pownall, Esq. for
Paris.

Departures from Long'a Hotel, Bond-street :—Mr. and Mrs.
Faulkner, for their seat in Stationlshire ; Lieut. Jackson, R.N. for
Chatham ; Capt. Harvey, for Brighton.
Departures from the Royal Hotel, St. Tames's-street r—Sir C.
lbbertson, for Brighton ; the Rev. G. May. for Bath ; Captain
Mousley, on a shooting party ; the Hoe. T. Fianna, for Bucaing-
bannhire.

During the Earl of Liverpool's stay at Brussels, his
Lordship had the honour of dining with the King of the
Netherlands.

Mr. Canning's house, in Downing-street, when complete,
will be one of the most capacious mansions in town. The
addition to it of Sir Robert Preston's late residence will
enable the Right Honourable Secretary to enjoy his do-
mestic comforts and luxuries upon a large scale, and
transact the public business in his extensive cflices under
the same roof, without the slightest annoyance or imp-
venience.

The Eul of Carlisle ttd, on Sunday last, at his scat
Castle Howard, Yorkshire.

Tl:e venerable owner of Lulworth Castle, now an eccle-
siastic in a Convent of the Order of Jesuits al road, roe.
seases immense wealth in this country, all of which, it is
said, he devotes to charitable purposes. This religious
devotee is reported to have bid adieu to his native land fa
ever.

The last advices from Stockholm state, that Sir B.
Bloomfield has returned to Stockholm from his journey to
St. Petersburgh.
Yesterday a Court of Directors was held at the Eas
India House, when Capt. Henry Bonham Him was sworn
into the command of the new ship building by Henry
Bonham, Esq. consigned to Bombay and China.
The Bittern sloop of war was docked last week, and Sir
H. Davy's protectors removed from her bottom. They
have also been taken front the bottoms of several other
commissioned ships, as the Pandora, Druid, Nightingale,
&c. and are to be disused on all sea going vessels by order.
Specimens of the state of the protectors have been sent to
the board.— Western I,:aninaiy.
The new Court-house and Vestry-room now building
for the parish of Mary-la-bonne, will, it Ds said, cost little
short of 1.5,000/.

The Rev. G. P. Richards, of Beverley, returning Iron
Cottingham to the former place on Tuesday evening last,
in a gig, accompanied by a servant, the horse ran away
with them, in consequence of a fright, . and Mr. Richard,
to escape the danger, leaped nut, and unfortunately broke
the small bone of his leg. The servant escaped with only
a slight bruise. Mr. R. was subsequently conveyed home,
and it is hoped is doing well.
NEW CATIIOLIC ASSOCIATION.—On Saturday tbc:i.
was a meeting of the Education Committee, pursuant to
advertisement. Shortly after a few members had assemble,l
in the Secretary's (Mr. Dwyer) room, this gentleman caw,:
into the apartment in which the Reporters were assembled.
and ipformed them that the business of the Convnittic
was concluded, and that it was not likely there would lx
any meeting of public interest before November next.—
Dublin Frerman's Journal.

The hair-dressers of the city of Paris, according to (V•
tom, had a mass pe rformcd on the day of their patrca,
St. Louis. The solemnity was celebrated with great rili:l`
on the ‘29th Angus;, in the church of St. GenuaiL-
l'Auserrois. Nothing was spared to give splendour to tl;e
ceremony. A collection made by delegates at Lenses of II.:
contributors had produced about 1000 francs. The who!,.
of this sum seas cons( crated to this religious act, io sf'4
of the remonstrances of some of the society who thought
that a simple mass, accompanied with an act of charity to-
wards the unfortunate, would have been as pleasing ia ,
eye of God as the magnificence displayed on that cv
casion. According to their plan they hid proposed to
moderate in the church expenses, and to divide the F1:1-
saved between the Luna-out inhabitants of Saba.
and a poor and infirm old man who had formerly et:ei•
eised the calling of a hairdresser. The advice of this
not having been followed, they expressed a hope that.
the future, the produce of the annual collect:on shaft net
be placed in the hands of a few deloates,.but comided
these of 'be Seciety for :Mutual Relief, in order
lets extravagance may ho shown towards the parish kiligir.7
boys, and more liberality towards the inthgtn: of their
profession.
ST. PETERSHUIteII RACES.—On the 16th ult. at Lie
o'clock in the morning,the race between English and ossack
horses, of which notice has long since been given, t("4l'
place. There were two extremely beautiful English sta..
iions belonging to an English society here, and two 01-
sack horses belonging to General Orlow Denitsow.
distance run was 7 4 rersts. The second Engiish hors:
gained the prize of 2.1,000 rubles.
A company has just been fumed in Paris for the mt.-
nuracture er ice.

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I

ENGLISH OPERA HOUSE.
sin night was distinguished at this Theatre by *the
mu:lotion of a new operatic drama, in two acts, called
,since Boy. The following analysis will serve to
)4 our seeders into the particulars of the plot, and inci-
Am which form the foundation of this drama. Alexis;
;shepherd boy) (Miss Kelly) is son to the Marquis;
Tour (Mr, Cooper) by Ina first wife, and through
,he intrignes of a designing stepmother, has been estranged
mei the home and heart of his father. After a long sepa-
o
rosen, be meets his fathersmong the grounds of his native
au, where the latter is hunting, and becomes insult- I
:wolet in the preservation of his life from the attack of a
focimm boar, which he succeeds in killing at the cost of
,aaral dangerous wounds to himself. This incident is
soprtesetl to occur a year previous to the commencement of
die piece, and the Marquis, who was remaining for only a
Mort time, and incognito, on his paternal estate, commits
iis deliverer, without recognising in him his son, so long
„vaned from Ids affections, to the care of a peasant, with
&strict injunction to watch over hN recovery. The peasant
barkvs his trust appropriates the money intended for the
segport of Alexis to himself, and taking advantage of his ,
%wary delirium, occasioned by the injuries received
f,,,a the wild animal, throws him into a mad-house,
„beim, after some time, be is discharged, and thrown
Lien
the world more destitute than before. He is finally
j'esi into the service of an innkeeper fumed Gautier!
(gr. Bartley.) (luutitr has a pretty little daughter,
L,•;tta (Miss Coward), whom lie is desirous of uniting
marriage with Am/anise (Mr. Keeley), the steward
I the Marquis de la Tour ; but the father is appre-
s;esive that a secret attachment exists between Luectla
10 his protege, the shepherd boy, anti endeavours to.
persuade Ins daughter that her supposed admirer is
&loved in his intellects. Things are in this situa-
tion, woes the Martin is de Ia %inns accompanied by
kis friend Darrel (Mr. Baker) arrives on Isis estate, for
the purpose of privately inspecting the state of affairs at
the chateau. Alexis has been always affected, in an ap-
parently unaccountable manner, by an allusion to, or men-
non of, the Marquis, a circumstance which induces Gautier
w suspect he really is what he wishes his daughter to believe
him to be—a madman. V. ith a slew of ascertaining this
pint, and convincing his daughter that he is eon romps,
Gassier proposer to the Marquis, who has arrived at the inn
in disguise, to personate himself. The Marquis is tickled
at the fancy and consents. Alexis is introduced to the
keupposcd) stranger, and immediately recognises his father,
sod the latter his deliverer, but the Marquis is still igno-
net that Alexis is his son. The innkeeper is delighted,
and Lueetta distracted at the auppotsed madness of Alexis,
cad the admirable way in which the manger personates the ,
Marquis is a new source of plcasantvy to Gautier. Pre-
sently honest Ambroise, the steward, makes his appearance
with innumerable viands and bottles of wine purloined
from the cellar of the chateau for the purpose of celebrating
the Marquis's birth-day appropriately at his own expense.
llis terror at sight of his master is extreme, but a sign
from the latter keeps him from making a premature dis-
cssureof the truth. They all sit down to table together,
.;.,.braises fright takes away his appetite, and the Mar-
yds drinks his own health out of his own wine at
we loatauce of the jolly innkeeper. Presently the
of the village makes his appearance for the pur-
pwe of inflicting punishment on the bold stranger who
has dared to assume the name and character of their
feudal Lord in joke. Riguret (the Bailie) (Mr. Chap-
man), le permitted to make himself absurd andetuthorative
for some time, when the Marquis puts an end to the scene,
by discovering himself, to the great alarm of Rigoret and
Gautier, who are both eventually pardoned their presump-
tea, arta receiving a little wholesome advice. .Anibroise
cores in for a share of the amnesty and the admonition,
and after some further delay Alexis discovers himself to his
parent, and is received with corresponding rapture on the
ran of the Marquis.
The first act of this little piece was of such a nature as
led as to doubt its final success; but it went on, like an
autumn day, breaking out of the fogs that at first encom-
passed it, into a clear and sparkling meridian, aver: finally
wept itself away, in so tender a shower of mingled joy and
pity, that we experienced a sensation of disappointment, as
pleasing as it was uelooked for, at its close. A good deal
of this is attributable to the ability displayed in the final
acne between the father and his child, which, as our
raicrs ir.ust perceive, is a very powerful situation, and
to been not inadequately developed by the writer, who
his succeeded, as all authors will succeed that throw
themselvce with a trusting heart upon the resources of
cot common nature. That is the chord which, according
es it is touched, makes music or discord in the human
hurt: her's is the fountain of living water, which is
never dry, and whose streams, whether of joy or sorrow,
inhibit even the stoniest bosoms; of all ; and are ready to
follow the it-etch of the enchanter, as the wave that slept
13 tie rock of the wilderness woke into motion at the stroke
of the prophet's rod. In thus recording the successful ter-
mination of this little drama, it would be gross injustice to
omit mentioning the names of Miss Kelly and Mr. Cooper,
slime exertions contributed mainly to the desired result.
We are happy to observe our augury of the advantages to
le derived to this theatre from the abilities of Mr. Cooper
to soon fulfilled, Of Miss Kelly it is hardly necessary to
ileaktnore fully. Her name has been long synonimous
rith excellence in parts of this description. It will be,
therefore, sufficient t 3 say that her performance of last
right is not calculated to detract from the splendid repu-
tation of this actress, who is perhaps the greatest mistress
(queen might be a better word) of the passions now upon
tae stage.
The remaining performers exerted themselves in a very
inctitarious manner, particularly Bartley, whose part was
mo moral by half for an innkeeper, aid Keeley, who did
" the State" some service in the highly ludicrous scene
shere the Marquis detects his roguery. Mr. W. Chap-
ean, whom we have already mentioned as " the Baillie,"
41 an inaufferably stupid character inflicted on him : the
tit of which consisted in the use of three words of pre-
cisely the same signification, whenever lie had occasion to
et out the torrent of his verbiage. We sympathised deeply
with the Marquis, who was compelled to listen to him, and
were highly delighted to hear the functionary at length
:deal: "he wanted words!" As to compassion for his
want, that was out of the question, with one who had
'.4visheel his stock of syllables so Profusely. We would
usicerely recommend the author to prune this .lifonsieur
Big•)ret without mercy, if it should not rather appear more
!drieable to " destroy, arid annihilate, and decompose"
him entirely, as he says himself. As matters at present
rest, we should as won put our head under a spout or a
waterfall for ball an hour, as listen to the flow of the
daillie's eloquence again. The author is a clever man,
end taw dispense with such tricks to make a barren quan-
tity of spectators laugh. Besides, after all, if there is any
wit in the affair, a dictionary is much more witty than he
and we will engage to find a schoolboy who shall beat hien
et his own game of word catching. Miss Coward sung
end looked very prettily as Luc-lila, and appears to mains
t,in the hold she had previously obtained on the favour of
tae audience.

There is a good dtal of pretty scenery, music, and
.In.ssn introduced in the course of this drama, which we
think bids file to hold its place on these boards, if it does
not even soar a higher pitch and reach a winter theatre.
Inc house was fully and fashionably attended, and at the
filling of the curtain the ar.plause was of so decided a
Pharscter that Mr. Bartley came forward, and announced
t'le piece fir repetition, nut as usual in the subjunctive
rut the indicative mood. We think he was right, and
I;,st whatever virtue there may be in an " if," it was not
;Iveeessary on this occasion.

SADLER'S WELLS.
The vinegar-souled critic who travelled from Dan to
li.erhliebs and pronounced ell barren should have taken
Fatller's Wells in his way. Had he done so he might have
%died himself an infinity of gizzard-grumbling and dis-
t,stent. Ile could not fail to have found a place fruitful
wany rarticulare. Item—a pretty walk from the west-
"d—a pretty little house when you get to it—pretty ace-
titlY—prttly tntuic—pretty acting—wine pretty fair—and
teutrti both pretty anti fair—a tolerable pretty saloon, with
it:anodesty—aittl rent pretty actresses, ditto. Add to
pretty large domestic parties, with pretty little boys
4irls pretty well behaved—boxes pretty comfortable--
pre peaceable—and a gallery pretty quiet, except
title of encores, and what prettier picture can any-
ire f
we visited this ileasant little place of
.inatomer

'amusement on Tuesday, we enjoyed all these amenities in
perfection, together with some others, which it is the busi-
ness of this article to explain. For instance, there was
1. an entirely new Romantic Tale of mysterious horror
land broad grin (in three acts) called the Enchanted Gir-
! dies; or, Winki Mc Witch and the Ladies of Saniareand,"
written by T. Dibdin, (classic name iu dramatic afiiiirs!)
II Winks, who is none of your malicious spiteful bags, but
one who uses her power for purposes of benevolence, was
I well represented by Mr. Lancaster. Mr. Lancaster is a
pleasant old' woman. Her familiar, a spirited fellow as
one would wish to meet, who becomes visible and invisible
;ad libitum, was famously played by J. S. Grimaldi. Ile
lis a chip of the old block. Every time we see him an in-
creasing elasticity of limb and feature is perceivable, and if
he continues to improve as hitherto. dole is lisle doubt
but he will shortly reacts the sublimity of grin of old
" Grim" the great, or Liston himself, and be able to put
his eyes in his waistcoat pocket. What could be better than
the way in which he was visible and invisible by turns ?
' When he put on the invisible cocked hat he moved
about with such apparent confidence in its " unseen vir-
tues," and lent such hearty boxes on the ear to his neigh-
bours, that you were led almost to distrust the evidence of
your eye-sight, and believe in the potency of the cheat.
' There he was, an able-bodied sprite, flaming away in a
scarlet jacket,and anon he puts me on his extinguisher and
goes out like the snuff of a candle. And then what cele-
rity and despatch does he display in handling the magic
girdles, and affixing them to the ladies' waists, as though,
I like Ariel, he would

—•• Fetch a firdk round the earth
" in forty minutes. '
Think too of his tricks! What an old hand at a resource!
He is apprehended Ly the Cadi, and escapes from the hands
of the officers of justice by throwing dust in their eyes! Jus-
tice is blinded after a new fashion, with snuff. Celli, and sa-
tellites, and guards and gaolers, fall incontinently sneez-
ing, (it only wanted the Strazhurghcr with the enormous
nose to snake up the concert) and our slippery invisible es-
capes amid the general retort. His friends Birihi and
Hassan the Barber are brought to trial, and Zintzim res-
cues the criminals by throwing the Court into an intermi-
nable horse laugh, and finishes by making judge, counsel,
javelin men, and gaolers, dance to the music of their own
cracking lungs. Commend us to such a spirit ! He is a
fellow of infinite jest! Mustapha hands a valuable box to
his confidential slave ills ihi, with strict. injunctions to pre-'
serve it safely, and be in readiness to return it when re-
quires!. What does our invisible friend, who is standing
close to the elbow of master anti man, but seize the box
unperceived by either, and lend the latter a sound box
on Me ear ! Mustapha demands his box from Biribi short-
lyfter—the slave hesitates--the master talks of stabbing—'
and at length receives the box with interest on Me nose !
Bravo Zimzint, say we ! There are worse " things in phi-
losophy" than thee and thy jokes !
Hassan, the Barber of Samarcand, was well represented
by Mr. Williams, who sung some comic songs, drolly
shaved all the characters in the piece, anti was himself'
shaved pretty closely by his wife! Miss Mansell acted
Bohelina, the barbers wife, and played the vixen with
adequate spirit. It only remains to mention Mrs. Fitz-
wilham, who sung and played with considerable sweetness
in the chug-ter of Amine. She is in love with, and be-
loved, by, lifuslopha (Mr. Elliott), a sort of Eastern Don
Juan, who, as the bills say, is "in love with many
ladies" at one and the same time. The Prince of Samar-
and summons all the ladies of the city to appear before
him at Court, in order that he may choose one to be his
bride. Amine is compelled to go, though without any de-
sire of making a royal conquest, and aided by the • en-
chanted girdle" of modesty, bestowed on her by Maki, the
the witch, and her own sweet looks, she wins the Prince's
bent, who, as in duty anti romance bound, turns out to be
Mustapha, her former lover, and every thing turns out " as
well as can be expected."
After the romance followed, for the 13th time, a piece
which, though it has neither witches nor magic in it, ap-
pears to us more " romantic" than the last. It is en-
titled, The Lawyer, Me Jew, and Me Yorkshireman,
and they are all honest ! However, there arc some striking
situations in the piece, together with a tolerable sprinkling
of brilliant dialogue ; which, sided by sweet music from
Shield, Rossini, and eber. make these paradoxes in real
life, the honest " Lawyer, Jew, and Yorkshireman," pills
easily enough to be swallowed by a good humoured audi-
ence, determined to be pleased, they know not why, and
are not wherefore.

The evening's entertainments concluded with, for the
eighty-first time, the popular pantomime called Fairy Blue
and Fairy Red ; or, Harlequin and the Marble Rock."
The lovers of this species of amusement must bsve been
amply gratified by the exertions of Mr. Grimaldi as Clown,
anti Miss Romer as Columbine. All was as brilliant as
ever, and Fairy Blue and Fairy Red appears to have " lost
no celour" by their eighty-first representation. We hail
almost aid, trio perpetua! The two latter pieces are, as
we understand, also from the prolific pen of Mr. Dibdin.

The follon ing curious account of the cause of damning
a play, is given in an old dramatic register :
" il/4e Wary Widow, or Sir Noisy Parrot, a comedy, by Henry
Higden, in RM.—This is very far from being the worst of our
English et:medics. being ushered into the world by several compli.
mentary verses, and a prologue written by Sir Charles Sedley : yet
it was d.unned the first night, owing to a very extraordinary cir-
cumstance, which was, that the author hsd introduced so much
fisMkiog of punch into the play that the performers got drunk
during the acting of it, and were unable to go through with their
parts; on which account, sad the treatment the audience gave them
by hisses and cat-calls in consequence of it, the house was obliged
to be dismissed at the end of the third Act."

• Von Weber, the celebrated composer, and Mr. It. Bishop
are both mentioned as being engaged in composing music
for an opera for each of our winter theatres (the former
for Covent-garden, the latter for Drury-lane) said to be
founded on the same story in the " Arabian Nights' En-
tertainments." 'These two distinguished composers will
thus be brought into something like direct competition.
The imaginative and supernatural peculiarities of the
stories will give the composers, especially Weber, and no
doubt Bishop, advantageous scope for the display of their
creative powers.
Madame Fodor, who had been engaged at the Theatre
St. Carlos, at Milan, for three or Ave years, by an arrange-
ment with the new Director-General of the Italian Theatres
on the Continent, return: to the Opera in Paris. Albert,
the dancer, goes to Naples.
Glossop and Welch, who had jointly become managers
of the Theatre of St. Carlos, at Naples, and the La Scala,
at Milan, have relinquished these concerns as unprofitable.
They have since beet taken by a Gentleman, who, at the
same time, is said to manage the Grand Opera at Vienna,
at Petersburgh, and, indeed, all the leading Italian
Theatres on the Continent, except Paris. How'ver strange
this account of extended management may seem, we be-
lieve it is strictly and literally true.
An English gentleman named White, having been to the
Theatre, on Saturday night last, was returning to his lodg-
ings, in Iriahtown, at about twelve o'clock, when he was
attacked by two ruffians, close by the Gas Works, at the
draw-bridge, and near the spot where the late atrocious
murder was committed on Marchant, the apprentice of Mr.
Morton, the ship-builder ; one of those men walked a little'
onward and passed Mr. White; the other, a man about
six feet high, struck Mr. W. in the face, and having pre-
sented a pistol, he demanded what property he had about
him, and took from him a valuable gold watch, two pound
notes, and a quantity of silver. The second ruffian, on his
companion making some delay in rifling the gentleman,
cried out, " Damn the —," knocked him down, and took
his coat off: This, however, the other did not comply
with, but conveyed Mr. White to the side of the wall, and
declared that if he slid not immediately proceed toward,
Irishtown, he would blow his brains out. Mr. Whites
highly delighted at this injunction, did not wait until it
was repeated, and accordingly made his way home, with a
heavy heart, and light pocket ; the footpaths having left
him only fifteen pence in his possession.—Duhlin Morning
Courier.

An accident which put the neighbourhood of Saint An-
drew's-street, Cambridge, into alarm, and nearly proved
fatal in its consequences, occurred on Thursday evening
the 2.3 th ult. An old high building, which formed the
back part of the Bell public-house, adjoining Andrew's
church, suddenly gave way, and its ponderous stack of
chimneys fell through the roof, carrying with it the inter-
mediate floors to the ground.—A party of five young men
were spending the evening in the back parlour ; hut one of
them having occasion to leave the room, observed a tremu-
14us motion in the building just in time to alarm his friends,'
who had scarcely time to escape from the room when it was
Ailed by rate fallen.ruiut.

-LITEILinr GLEANINGS.

No. XXIV.

MADAME DE STAEL.
An intelligent Swede, who has sketched the portte; of
Maclaine de Stael, says, that every year of her life was
morally better than the preceding, as the latest of her
works was always the most perfect both in matter and style.
Since then the features I have exhibited belong chiefly to
her youth, I think it of importance to point out the chines
that gradually took place in Madame tte Stu!.
In the first place, she became niore unaffected as she grew
older. To the sincerity of character, which she always
possessed, she added more and more truth of expression.
nett are minds that show themselves more openly at the
commencement of life: there are others that seen. as if
enveloped in the shining vapours of their cwn illusions.
MadaVne de Stael was more herself as she advanced in
years; whether, as she wrote to me, success encouraged
her to display what she called her whimsicalities, or whe-
ther she bad laid aside certain romantic forms that veiled
her real originality. Perhaps there was a time when life,
death, melancholy, impassioned disregard of self, were
too prominent in hercoaversation ; but, when the contagion
of these phrases had infected her whole drawing-room, and
threatened to extend to her anti-chamber, she grew mortally
tired of them. The affectation of these imitators cow.
stantly cured Madame tie Stael of any thing ridiculous.
" When they want to oblige me to live in the clouds," said
she, " I put on my wooden shoes, arta creep on the
ground:"

Besides, in consequence of this continually increasing
justice, she learned better to appreciate what is really va-
luable in life, and lost something, not of her pity, but of
her too great esteem for misfortune. More happy herself,
she was more inclined to consider existence a benefit.
Even if I had no hope of a life to come," said she, " I
should still give thanks to God for having lived, and for
having known and loved my father."
For the same reason she had less dread of solitude, and
knew better how to enjoy both the beauties of nature and
the exercise of thought. She said to her son, as an incen-
tive to study—" In the absence of extraordinary misfor-
tunes I know no troubles, till five o'clock in the afternoon,
when my literary labours cease for the (lay." She fre-
quently quoted the example of HORNS TOOKE, who, at a
very advanced age, aaid to Lord ERSKINE : " If you had
only obtained for me ten years longer life, at the bottom of
a dungeon, with books and pen and ink, I would still have
thanked you."
It does not appear to me that years occasioned Madame
de Steel any real loss. In her youth she bad a wonderful
faculty for extemporary versification, but she never ceased
to employ as a poetess the materials, which she continually
collected from study and observation ; the sphere of her
ideas was always increasing,. various new worlds displayed
themselves to her eyes one after another, and her successive
discoveries gave birth to her various works. Thus, her
knowledge of the torments inflicted by opinion, created
Drytine, that of nature and the arts, Corinna;
that of metaphysical notions and the ideal philosophy,
1 Germany ; that of the political and social state of England,
her last work. Every cunt left a result in her mind,
every sentiment taught her something. The eternal youth
of genius maintained its rights, while she enriched her-
self with the fruits of age.
Time bad still treasures in. reserve for her ; and, for ex-
ample, she wrote on the subject of her poem of Richard,
" I think I shall give an excellent picture of the effects of
imagination at a mature age ; that age, when objects,
soon to be obscured, are still illumined by the purple rays
of the setting sun."
But what was particularly remarked in Madame de Steel,
in proportion ss she advanced in life, was a greater reserve,
with manners more circumspect. Having sometimes found
the inconvenience of giving indifferent persons a right to
wound her feelings, she entered less freely into confiden-
tial topics. Accordingly, certain persons found her less
charming, yet there was no coldness in her. Dreading
emotions, and desirous of avoiding them, she had substi-
tuted for the, generous nobleness of her former freedom,
that dignity, which keeps persons at a certain tiistance.
She no longer desired to extend the circle of her affections,
and did not seek to inspire new ones. Formerly she had
said, " There is always a little coquetry in services ren-
dered by women, since they seek thus to make themselves
beloved. "Towards the close of her life she would scarcely
admit of gratitude ; the satisfaction of doing good was suf-
ficient for her. "The door of my heart is shut," was
her expression : but in this she was deceived. Never
did any kind of excellence cease to interest her sensi-
bility ; but there was something pleasing to her ancient
friends, in the idea of that barrier by which she separated
them from the rest of the world.

The qualities of Madame de Steel acquired a character
of greater solidity with age, and shc valued solidity more in
others. The whole theory of enthusiasm gave place to
that of morality, her esteem for natural gifts was trans-
ferred to acquired virtues ; courage and resignation ob-
tained that admiration which she had formerly bestowed
on great emotions of sensibility. She was herself more
calm ; and, when she had no real cause of trouble, she did
not invent chimerical ones.

Among the happy effects of time on Madame de Stael
must be included the greater stability that religious ideas
were continually acquiring in her mind, and the improving
habit of applying them to the actual occurrences of life.
Her scruples, which had always looked to the consequences
of her actions, attached themselves more to their motives.
Prayer, that sentimental want of hers, placing her
incessantly in communication with the source of all excel-
lence, caused a pure light to penetrate her heart. "When-
ever lam alone I pray;" said she to her children. She
wrote to me from Sweden on the subject of Mr. de Mont-
morency : " There is no such thing as absence to the re-
ligious, because they meet in the sentiment of prayer."
Every mon.ent we find in her letters a request to pray for
her and her children.

The Swedish gentleman whom I have already mentioned
made the following remark on Madame de Sisel, which
must be taken in a favourable sense : " She had the vene-
ration of a child for the Christian religion."
It was in her last work that we find the following sub-
lime sentence : " Man is reduced to dust by infidelity :"
and this : " Religion is the life of the soul."
Shall I speak of the decay ,of such a person ? Shall I
call up images, that fate spared me, showing her for whole
months wrestling with sufferings, and with death ? Shall
I venture to depict to myself that imagination so formi-
dable, that mind so penetrating, maintained during the
course of a disease that gradually benumbed the organs of
the most active, the most susceptible, the most lively of
mortals ? Ah, that this fearful picture, which offers itself'',
but too strongly to my thoughts, could be drawn by any
other than myself ! But as there were circumstances in
the illness of Madame de Stacl less painful to her friends,
and some even consolatory, on these, no doubt, I may be
allowed to dwell.

During this severe trial her character remained unal-
tered ; and if she sometimes displayed, as was very na-
tural, her great susceptibility of moral suffering, her com-
plaints were never murmurs ; she never revolted against
her destiny. In the midst of these terrible agitations, that
pass so rapidly from the body to the mind in disorders of
this kind, her unalterable sweetness of temper never for
a moment forsook her. To her last moments she was
tender, confiding as an infant, and deeply grateful to those
about her, as well as to her incomparable friend, Made-
, moiselle Randall, whose attentions were as affecting as her
attachment was profound. t4he was seen constantly exert-
ing the virtues for which she was distinguished; and on
the days when she suffered moat pain, she was employed in
acts of kindness. The pardon of a person condemned to
die (Barry), which she had solicited during her illness,
was obtained from the goodness of the King the day after
her death ; so that she did good even after she had breathed
her last. _ _

She was also beard to utter delightful sayings, in her pe-
culiar way. " I have always been the same, lively and
1 sad ." she observed to Mr. CHATEAUBRIAND, " I have
loved God, my father, and liberty."
On quoting these words of Fontenelle : " I am a French.
man. I am fourscore years old, yet I never ridiculed the
slightest virtue :" she added, " I can say as much of the
slightest suffering."
Unquestionably she felt great regret at parting with her
children and friends. Stoicism, or the particular kind of
enthusiasm that is capable of closing the heart to the pains I
of eternal separation, entered not into her charactt -. Her
daughter in particular cost her many tears. " With soreirll
treasures of affection," she dictated for me, in speaking of the

•. . .
objects of ber regard, " it is a esti thing to quit life." " I
should be very sorry," she said likewise, 4 if every thing
were at an end between Al herd ne (Madame de Broglie) and
me in another world." But she rather regretted life, than
really feared death. She may have dreaded the last pangs ;
an imagination like hers may have felt some horrors at the
idea of physical dissolution, terrible as it is to all of us;
blit death, morally considered, gave her no alarm. She
:preserved so much tranquillity as to wish to dictate to
Mr. Schlegel the description of what she felt. Her thoughts
were always turned with hope towards her fattier, and to-
ards immortality. " My father waits for me on the other
shore," she said. She beheld her father with God, and in
God himself could see nothing hut a father. These two
ideas were confounded in her heart ; and that of a pro-
tecting gqadnesa was inseparable from both. One day,
rousing from a state of reverie, she said, " I think I know
what the transition from life to death is; and I am sure,
that the goodness of God softens it to us. Our ideas be-
come
contused, and f!to.pain is not very acute."
Her confidence was
.r.ot diAappointed : the profoundest i
tranquillity presidtd over her last moments. Her soul de-
parted with out a struggle.—Life, 4.e. of Baroness de Stael- '
Holstein, by Madame Neckar de Saussure.

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