was delighted,' said Werner, that my favourite author should please you. It was the happiest day of my life; it afforded me an opportunity of escorting you to the neighbouring village, and we were by that time perfectly known to each other.' The conversation was thus insensibly prolonged; the time and place induced mutual confidence; and Werner ventured to address a few observations to Henrietta, as to the danger of the profession which she had adopted. Her reply was, that, having to provide for her brothers and sisters, she was compelled to sacrifice her own comfort to their well-being. Struck with this noble answer, Werner paced up and down the room for some time; then suddenly stopping before her: You must be extricated from this situation, Henrietta; will you become my wife?' She made no reply, but burst into tears, and her fair head fell reclining on her lover's arm; and, from that time, she constantly in their tête-à-têtes made use of the familiar and endearing expressions which are commonly used by persons betrothed.

·

Werner's eloquence soon prevailed over the force of Mademoiselle Sontag's habits, and she decided upon quitting the stage. He writes to his father to obtain his consent to his marriage with the accomplished Henrietta; the father refuses, and disinherits his son. Werner still persists, however, in his intention; he proposes endeavouring to obtain the situation of Professor of Music at the University of Berlin; and Henrietta, on her part, is to give a farewell concert, as the remaining means of existence for herself and family.

wretched family. A mother, whose youth has seen wealth and happiness, and who has been nursed in brighter prospects, languishes in misery, with three children. Her husband was, but the other day, cast in to prison, for debts which misfortune has brought on him; a few hundred dollars would restore him to his family, but they are difficult to be procured, and, in the mean time, want and misery hang over the heads of the father, the wife, and their children. Would you desire to perform a good action, and shorten the days of suffering of this family? It is even for this I have come to you, and trust to your generosity." Henrietta was deeply moved by the simple narrative of the worthy old inan; she asked with an agitated voice, "What is the amount of his debt?" "Two hundred dollars; and, it may be, another hundred to satisfy the pressing wants of the family, and put the father in a condition to support them by his own exertions, of which he will not be sparing." "My God," cried Henrietta, "had then this man so few friends, that for so paltry a sum he must endure such misery?" With these words, she flew to her desk, and, taking out three hundred dollars, she gave them to the clergyman with these words: "Take them, father, heaven has bestowed on me such abundance, that, even after giving away this trifle, I shall be richer than I had ever hoped. I entreat of you, take the money and fly to their assistance." The old man seized her hand, and pressed it fervently to his lips: "God will reward you for this," he said, with glistening eyes; "believe me, my child, God will reward you." There was a prophetic tone in his voice, that struck Henrietta; she accompanied him to the door, and returned with a light heart to her apartment.'

A few minutes after, the Count K. entered; he came in the name of the Duke, his master, to propose a private marriage, which Henrietta refused. The Grand Duke expected such an answer,' said the Ambassador; but, if his occupation of the throne is an obstacle to his union with Henrietta, he will resign the government of his state to his brother, become a simple citizen, and then sue for a happiness which the sceptre prevents his obtaining. One word from Henrietta would have exalted her to the rank of Duchess. Had you a throne itself to offer me,' she replied to the Ambassador, 'I should decline your proposal; I am engaged to a young man, who, like myself, is an artist; we love each other, and no other man shall ever become my husband.'

The Concert is announced, aud tickets are taken by every body. Among the rest, an Ambassador, who had arrived the previous evening at Berlin, and had not been able to procure one, addresses himself, as a last resource, to Henrietta, where he is equally unsuccessful. Must I then,' said the Count K., renounce all hope of listening to a prodigy, of whom I have heard so much?' 'I know but one way,' said Henrietta, smiling, to repair so great an evil, which is, to allow me the pleasure of singing before you now.' She sang ; the Count was delighted, and, pressing her hand as he departed, he placed on her finger a magni-Noble and generous woman!' said the Count, ficent ring, and left her. The Concert takes place, and is thus described:

The evening came, and the Concert was full and

brilliant. A celebrated artist who was present, addressed Henrietta from the orchestra, and poured forth, with true feeling, his regret that this ornament of the arts would henceforth shine but for a small circle. At every piece that she sang, the room rang with applause; and, when at last she took leave, roses and myrtles were showered on her path from the boxes, an intimation that the cause of her quitting the stage was understood. There was, in this last mark of interest, something that spoke deeply to her heart: with tears in her eyes, she returned her thanks for such a reception, while a feeling of sadness crossed her mind, at the thought that she was now, as it were, for ever abandoning the temple of the arts, of which she had become a worthy priestess; and, whatever might be the happiness a peaceful home promised to her, still it must be bought by this sacrifice.'

Werner conducted her to her carriage, and drove home with her; as soon as they entered, they threw themselves into each other's arms. "Now," exclaimed Henrietta, now I am at last thine." After a time Werner spoke in a voice of deep emotion, "Henrietta, whom think you I saw at the concert?" and he continued, as she looked at him with an inquiring glance, "My father; I will see him to-morrow morning early, and then tell you what effect my persuasions and your looks have had upon him." The lovers separated with high hopes, for they could not look upon it as a bad sign, that Werner's father should have been present at the concert.

receiving her in his arms, you shall be my daughter. At that moment the door was suddenly thrown open, and Werner threw himself at

his father's feet.

According to the German edition of this little novel, Henrietta and her lover were, that same evening, united in the Count's private chapel, by the same divine who, in the morning, had obtained from her the relief which he implored for a distressed family. But, according to a postscriptum, appended to the translation of this work, lately published at Paris, Mlle. Sontag was doomed to experience a more severe disappointment than any she had hitherto suffered. It appears that the Count, desirous of ascertaining whether the attachment of the young couple was likely to prove constant, stipulated that Henrietta should absent herself for some time previous to their marriage. She accordingly proceeded to Paris, and it is probably to this circumstance that we are indebted for the pleasure of seeing her in England.

These memoirs of Mademoiselle Sontag, for the authenticity of which, however, we will not vouch, have obtained, both in France and Germany, the most flattering reception; and, although they possess little elegance of style to recommend thein, though the characters are described rather as caricatures than portraits, and though there is some unnecessary ridicule thrown on a member of our peerage, we entertain but little doubt that the English translation, which, we understand, is preparing for the press, will be read with lively interest by the inquisitive, as well as the fashionable classes, of the three kingdoms. It will, at least, enable them to form some opinion of the personal attractions and talents of this

lovely actress, whom we have endeavoured to pourtray, from the descriptions contained in this small volume, as well as from our own recollections, assisted by some information contained in memoirs ascribed to Rossini, and published in the last number of Le Furet de Londres.'

SECRET THOUGHTS OF KINGS.

[From an unpublished Manuscript bequeathed by Frederick the Great, of Prussia, to his Royal Nephew, Frederick William the Third.]

Introduction.

WHEN Anthony of Cryna counselled Charles the Fifth gradually to rid himself of the petty Italian sovereigns, and monopolise their domains, the prince made answer, that his conscience stood in the way.' Pshaw! give your conscience to the winds,' 'replied the politician; if your Majesty have a conscience, it is idle for your Majesty to dream of being Emperor.'

Charles gave many a proof, in after life, of the diligence with which he took this advice to heart, and eradicated the noxious and encumbering word, Conscience,' from the catalogue of his motives. Much of the efficacy of counsel, however, will always depend upon the terms in which it is conveyed; though it would be foreign to our present purpose to stop and discuss the results which might have followed upon the hint, had the scruples of the young monarch been alarmed by the plainer and sterner language, which would have told him, that glory is too commonly the grave of honour, and honour rarely the road to fame.

It would prove a curious task to inquire by what rare chance it happened, that the education of this prince had left him any moral scruples whatever to deal with. Judging by the redundant exploits of his fellow-potentates, from Jezebel's consort down to the present Autocrat of the North, even the uninitiated might be warranted in concluding, that nations were made for princes, and not princes for nations! Yet stand they not without excuse; for, if, to the natural infira.ity of human nature, we add the melancholy temptations vitiating voice of sycophaney, the ready means which beset the stripling heirs of thrones,-the which offer themselves for the gratification of their desires, the foul enticements laid in their way by those who aspire to rule over the debilitated mind of their manhood, and the base and artful misguidance of companions, versed in all the wiles and effrontery of courts,-it is truly wonderful, not that the race of kings should afford us so many lessons of exalted depravity, but that it should present us with the example of so many individuals undeserving of the blame or execration of after ages.

It is happy for nations, as well as individuals, that good should so constantly be elicited from evil. Our own country, probably, owes no small portion of the blessings of its Protestant independence to the gloomy prejudices, imbibed in her early years, by the bigoted daughter of Catherine of Arragon. The lessons of Vives, and the wily Linares, implanted in her breast that obstinate devotion to the See of Rome, out of which arose her sanction of the atrocities perpetrated on men, who were idolised by the nation for their virtues and talents,-atrocities, so soul-stirring, sanguinary, and disgustful, as to have eminently conduced to prevent a relapse into the errors of Papism, whilst they whetted the age of men's newly-adopted opinions on the steel of religious persecution.

Holland also stands mainly indebted for the achievements of her independence, both political and ecclesiastical, to the lessons in worldly wisdom, which the youthful Prince of Orange derived from confidential intercourse with the talented Charles the Fifth. Little could that despot have anticipated the practical appliance of those lessons to the establishment of a power, formed, in an essential degree by the aptitude of his scho

lar, out of the ruins of the richest portion of Philip's imperial inheritance. Yet history has been deficient in revealing the source whence flowed the generous patriotism and self-denying magnanimity of a prince, whose mind had so long been exposed to the influence of the most ambitious court in Christendom.

It would be vain to expect that the divine right of kings,' that noxious bane of princely virtue, should ever be suffered to sink into abeyance. So long as monarchy exists, it will ever form an instrument grateful in its sound to the ears of kings, and, therefore, capable of being applied, with sinister efficacy, to the steerage of their caprices, by perfidious and designing counsellors. Nor is this right otherwise than a regal offspring of the privilege of the strongest.' The Florentine prince of politicians may have illustrated the thousand modes of reducing this right to practice with elaborate and deplorable sagacity; but its nature and tendency had been developed long before his times in the neglected Republic of Plato.'

Before we approach the repast afforded by the 'Royal Mornings' of the Prussian Machiavel, we shall derive additional relish for it by amusing ourselves awhile with the reveries of the Academic, who makes Thrasymach, the sophist, boldly assert, that what the world deems " right," is nothing more nor less than the "pre-eminence of the stronger." Laws,' says he, are every where concocted according to the will of the party in power; in democracies, they favour the people; in aristocracies, the nobility; and in monarchies, the prince. In every country, legislators chastise disobedience to their wills, as an infringement of the rule of right; hence they esteem that alone as right, which turns to their profit. Dost thou seriously conceive, that the shepherd who takes the trouble of driving his flock to the pasture, and exposes himself to every inclemency of the seasons, does it for the sheep's good? No! no! my friend; he does it for the sake of the wool. It is the same with rulers. When the weaker sacrifices himself for the stronger, and the stronger treads the weaker under foot, both of them act under compulsion. Contemplate, for instance, a tyrant, a despot, firmly seated on his throne; he feels no hesitation in employing force, as well as artifice, in order to attain his end. He robs others of their property,spares neither what is sacred nor what is profane, and is equally regardless as to whether the plunder belongs to the state or the individual. Every thing depends upon his being fortunate enough to conceal his crimes from the world's eye, or strong enough to set its opinion at defiance; bold enough to stick at nothing, and prudent enough to do nought by halves. It must be remembered, however, that, where these supports are wanting, he will be spit upon as a pickpocket or highwayman, and, at last, come to the gallows. But if he have bravely subdued a mighty state, conquered kingdoms, and brought whole nations under his dominion, then, friend Socrates, those odious epithets sink into oblivion, and are metamorphosed into high-sounding and honourable titles, whilst the whole world, wrapt in admiration, applauds his splendid transgressions.'

Every succeeding age has lent its attestation to the fidelity of this melancholy picture: the prince and the usurper, the conqueror and the conquered, the monarchist and the republican, have each continued to swim with the tide of earthly circumstances, and to bow their necks before the shrine of those, who

must be titled Gods, Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers, Worshipt with temple, priest and sacrifice; One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other; Till conqu'ror Death discover them scarce men, Rolling in brutish vices, and deform'd.' Before we throw open the royal page, it behoves us to produce some warrant of its authenticity: and the reader must not, therefore, find

fault with us, if, in so wise and sceptical an age, when it is become more than ever necessary for the journalist to look before he leaps,' we add a tail to the preface contained in our preceding columns.

The world cannot have forgotten the existence of a certain pseudo-hermaphrodite, yclept the Chevalier d'Eon de Beaumont. To what class or species this singular being appertained, there would be less difficulty in determining, than to what sex of the human genus its body-corporate assigned it: suffice it for our present purpose to observe, that it was an individual of our kind, so rich in mind, experience, and worldly attainments, that its society was as much courted by valued friends of ours, as was that of the shaggy Mephistofeles by the wondering Faust. It had chosen for itself, at a more advanced period of life, the exclusive use of female attire; which, in former years, was doffed to reassume the habiliments of the nobler sex, whenever the occasion permitted it.

To drop, however, the tone of mystery, it is well known that no petticoat dangled from the waist of Auguste-André-Timothée d'Eon, when, as under his aunt's roof at Paris: as a boy of fouran urchin of six years, he was comfortably housed teen, he quietly prosecuted his studies at the College Mazarin; and, as a full-grown youth, he rapidly passed from the Doctorship of Civil, to that of Canon Laws, and thence to the dignity of Avocat du Parlement.' The first occasion of his slide from the shelf of man-hood, dates from the circumstance of his being employed, through the influence of his patron, the prince de Conti, as a spy upon the suspected malpractices of the then French ambassador at St. Petersburgh; whence he returned to France, and appeared again in all the dignity of man's estate.'

'Religion is absolutely necessary to a state. This is an axiom which we should be fools to disabuse religion, is a mere dolt; and, if he possess pute. The sovereign, who allows his subjects to any himself, is no better. Listen well to what I say, my dear nephew; there is no greater tyrant over the mind and heart than religion, for she does not harmonise with our passions, nor with the enlarged views of policy which a sovereign ought to entertain. The only true religion a prince can know, is his own interest and glory. His position ought to dispense with his following any other. He may, however, be permitted to maintain its appearance on occasion, by way of amusing those who observe and surround him.

If he fear God, or, more properly speaking, the language of priests and women,-if he fear the devil, like Louis the XIVth., in his old age, he becomes feeble and puerile; he is worthy of the Capuchin's cowl. Is it an object to take advantage of a favourable opportunity and seize upon a neighbour's territory? An army of devils start up before you to prevent your purpose: we are weak enough to believe that we should be guilty of injustice, and take measure with our own hands of the punishment consequent upon our transgression. Still I do not mean to say, that we should make a display of impiety and atheism; though it is necessary we should think in accordance with the rank we hold. All the popes, who possessed common sense, cherished those religious principles which squared with their aggrandisement. It would be the acmé of folly, were a prince to give way to petty miseries, which are only designed for the common herd. 'Of Justice.

The address and talent he had displayed on this delicate mission proved so acceptable and advantageous to the views of Louis the Fifteenth's Ministry, that he was similarly employed in secret embassies to the Courts of Vienna, Berlin, St. Petersburgh, and London, in which last capital he contrived so effectually to ingratiate himself with the British Monarch, that he was sent by him to 'We as much owe justice to our subjects, as Paris, in 1762, with the ratification of the treaty they owe respect to us. By this I mean, my dear of peace between England and France. When nephew, that we must administer justice to manthe Duke de Nivernois quitted London, where he kind, and especially to our subjects, so long as it had discharged the functions of Ambassador- does not injure our rights, or prejudice our auExtraordinary, the Chevalier replaced him in the thority; for no comparison must be allowed becharacter of Minister-Plenipotentiary, and some tween the rights of the sovereign, and those of months afterwards resigned his post to the Comte the subject or slave. Be just and firm, whenever de Grierchy. With this nobleman he had subseyou are called upon to judge and determine any quently so serious a misunderstanding, that he contest between one of your subjects and another. was impelled to publish a volume, containing all This is the only conduct by which you can acthe letters, circumstances, and secret negocia-quire their adoration. But take especial care tions, which had occurred during his mission, that such justice do not unthrone you. Figure to and seriously implicating the Dukes de Choiseul yourself Charles I., who was brought to the scafand de Praslin, and Madame de Pompadour, the fold by that very measure of justice which the French King's mistress, as well as the depositary public voice is constantly bellowing after. * * * * of his power and influence. His return to France I have often reflected on the benefits which may was now rendered impossible; but he had the accrue to a state, from the institution of a legood fortune to find, in the French Sovereign gislative body, whereby the whole nation is reprehimself, a secret friend, who well knew him to be sented, and wherein the laws enjoy a depositary. one of the most dexterous and successful agents I am even disposed to believe, that a King is safer his Secret Police' had ever employed, and setin his seat when he originates or preserves such tled upon him a pension of 12,000 livres ::-' In an institution; but he must be a man of a beneconsequence,' wrote Louis under his own hand, ' of the services which the Sieur d'Eon has rendered me both in Russia and with my armies, as also in consideration of other commissions I have intrusted to him.' This pension the Chevalier continued to enjoy until the breaking out of the French Revolution.

volent character, and replete with good principles, if he be liable to have his actions sited every day. must renounce any such an establishment; I But the Prince who is endowed with ambition, should have done nothing, had my hands been tied. It is possible I may pass with posterity for being a just king; but I shall be denied the appellation of a hero. A constitutional sovereign is more commonly exposed to the vicissitudes of fortune than a despot; but then, a despot is required to be active, enlightened, and firm. More virtues are necessary to confer splendour on the despotic than on the monarchical state. The courtier flatters the latter, caresses his vices, and deceives him; the slave throws himself at the

he is indebted for his decided pre-eminence. He had the advantage of being initiated by a really-talented architect and a true artist-Mr. Dance. He afterwards studied in Italy; and, on his return to England, met with extensive patronage. His early works evince genius, and have the advantage of not being remarkable for any particular manner or extravagant character; and it was some years before he indulged in those extraordinary flights, which all his later works exhibit. He afterwards struck out into a style peculiarly his own; and, faulty and ridiculous as that style undoubtedly deserves to be considered, it still displays so many pleasing inventions, such playfulness of fancy, and so many real master-strokes of genius, that wonder and admiration almost disarm criticism of its just severity. Still we cannot blind ourselves to the excessive mannerism, to the affectation and quackery (or faults very like them), which pervade all the works of Mr. Soane, and are equally recognisable in his designs, his details, his drawings, his lectures, and his letter-press in its every line, to a degree of offensiveness which, if it may be palliated, cannot be excused, by the earnestness and real love for his profession which appear in connexion with them. With these preliminary observations, we proceed to notice Mr. Soane's designs.

The two first plates furnish us with ideas for entrances to the metropolis and parks. These designs are full of merit, and have a most triumphal effect. We regret that they were not executed: the erections that have been raised on the site for which they were intended, are far inferior; although the design of these seems to have been borrowed, in some measure, from that of Mr. Soane. It is, indeed, curious to observe, how completely the motive of some part of these new ornaments of the metropolis, (we allude more particularly to the entrance to Hyde Park, with its screen of columns,) resembles that of the designs now before us. We lament that the plates are so badly executed. Mr. Soane seems to have mistaken slovenliness for a sketchy and artist-like manner; for surely it smacks little of artistical freedom, to represent Achilles rather as a sweep than a hero.

The design for the palace is truly magnificent. It is sufficient alone to wipe out all the architectural sins of Mr. Soane, however heavy the account may be. It bespeaks a master-mind; and, when we think of the vile collection of frippery and deformity into which Buckingham Palace has been converted,* to the disgrace equally of the Court and of the country, we feel for the national degradation, as we lament the want of judgment of those who direct the application of the public funds to works of art, and who could prefer such paltry designs as those which have been permitted to be executed, to others much nobler and really splendid.

The Waterloo Monument we pass by, as equally unworthy of the event it professed to celebrate, and of the architect who made the design which precedes it.

Plates VII., VIII., IX., and X., present us with the designs of the Board of Trade, and accompanying buildings.* The interior of the Privy Council Chamber is one of the most exuberant, and not the least extravagant, of Mr. Soane's efforts.

Next to the New Offices at Whitehall, come the unfortunate Courts of Law. Allowing for all the difficulties with which Mr. Soane had to contend, his mistake in attaching the devoted Italian façade to Westminster Hall, remains inexcusable. Equally unpardonable is the folly of the ornaments lavished in the interior of the Courts. Mr. Soane, it seems, never dreams of that essential requisite in good architecture, the adaptation of the style of the building to the character of the purposes for which it is to serve. Hence his tribunals, in which consistency required sobriety and severity, dazzle us with the elaborate minuteness and intricacy of their ornaments, and have more the air of fairy halls than of seats of justice.

The Scala Regia we have seen before in The Buildings of London,' by Mr. Pugin. The impression before us appears taken from the plate belonging to that work. There is no other plate in Mr. Soane's 'Designs' nearly so well executed. The subject of it also is more in Mr.

In an early Number of 'The Athenænm' we promised some remarks on this edifice, as a sequel to our animadversions on the New Post Office and Council Chamber. Other pressing oceuations, the disowning of the design, and the promised demolition, have hitherto prevented us. A recent walk in the regions of Pimlico has invited us to return to our original purpose, which we propose to execute in the course of a few Numbers. To this we are the more encouraged, by per. ceiving that our criticisms are not without their effect: we observe that the objections we made to the attic over the wings of the New Post Office have not passed unheeded.

* The exterior of these offices, as executed, formed the subject of an article in the 5th Number of The Athenæum,' to which we beg to refer our readers.

Soane's way than the designs we have just noticed; it is one in which he is peculiarly happy, and in which he approves himself a better regal than legal architect.

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If we cannot excuse the Roman appendages to the Norman Hall of William Rufus, neither can we laud the style of the Gothic designs for the House of Lords. The design for a Senate House made in Rome in 1779, bespeaks, indeed, the gay morning of youthful fancy, amid all the wild imagination of an enthusiastic mind, animated by the contemplation of the majestic ruins of the sublime works of Imperial Rome.' It shows that our architect, like all artists who have breathed the air of the Eternal City, felt its inspiring influence, and might exclaim with Angelica Kauffman and Canova, To succeed, we must design in Rome.'

In presenting his designs for churches, Mr. Soane makes the old complaint, of being crippled in the matter of expense. Notwithstanding this formidable difficulty, he has succeeded in producing, in St. Peter's church, at Walworth, and Trinity Church, Marylebone, (near the Regent's Park,) two very pleasing and graceful works, saving and excepting always, out of this our commendation, the turmerick brick angles of the latter.

Of the designs for Villas, that for Mr. Swinnerton is the best. It is in sound taste, and simple-free from all those irrelevant extravagancies which disfigure the Bank, and the National Debt Office.

The additional building to Norwich Castle, is to us an additional proof that Mr. Soane cannot, or will not, enter into the true feeling and spirit of Gothic archi

tecture.

Dulwich College is a pretty plaything, and the Bank of England is the capo d'opera of Mr. Soane's ingenuity, talent, invention, and of his whims and oddities; it abounds in architectural jeux d'esprit. The circular end towards Lothbury, redeems him, and, were he an utter Borromini in the rest of his works, for the sake of this one little bit, we would forgive him all his monstrosities.

To maintain our indulgent tone throughout our article, we must be silent on Chelsea Hospital, and, in doing so, will borrow Mr. Soane's own quotation,

'on sçaura pourquoi je me tais.'

The temporary residence,' the 'probationary domicile,' in Lincoln's Inn-Fields, introduces us to the very sanctum of our worthy architect. Here he has collected his rich stores of art and antiquity,-here he revels in architectural glory, dwelling, magician-like, among fairie chambers of his own creating. In its kind it is perfect,-the ichnography of the very mind of the architect-every where difficulties surmounted— ingenuity triumphant-pictures, statues, models, and the most precious relics of antiquity, all provided for, --and then such a study! a charming banqueting-room too! a glorious wine-cellar! We heartily wish our worthy professor may live long to enjoy these elegant delights, and that years may elapse, ere he retire to the horrid DOMUS ETERNA, the tail-piece of his work, and the resting-place of our remarks.

A CONCERTO WHISTLER-EXTEMPORE COMPOSERAND MUSICAL PROTEUS.

To the Editor of the Athenæum SIR,-The fashionable world are, at this moment, living in delightful anticipation of hearing the farfamed Sontag, the Comic Queen of Song, as Pasta is the Tragic. Nicholson's enchanting flute, Voght's sweet oboe, Lindley's bewitching violoncello, and Mori's brilliant violin; these, however, are instruments, the handiwork of man, uttering, by his agency, delicious sounds; but, Sir, will you believe me, when I affirm that, at a party, the other night, in Grosvenor-place, assembled to celebrate the anniversary of the birth of the dutiful and pretty daughter of a much-valued friend of mine, a gentleman present WHISTLED A CONCERTO, in which he introduced the beautiful air of Hope told a flattering tale,' and did it exquisitely? I assure you, Sir, this is a fact; and I, as well as every one present, was so much astonished and gratified, that I cannot refrain from requesting your permission to make this novelty public. When the good host announced that a 'Mr. M

would kindly whistle an air, to please the ladies,' I was at a loss to think how whistling could be tolerated, especially after the delightful manner in which several ladies present had performed on the piano-forte; but Mr. M. immediately seated himself in a corner, and performed a Voluntary,' as I have described. I asked him, whose composition it was? He answered, it was extempore, as was his custom, merely introducing some air, for contrast and relief. His execution was brilliant; his tones alternately soft

and powerful; he ran up the chromatic scale, and from the highest note descended again to the lowest with ease, and, as he said, without exertion!' Really, never having heard any one whistle in a scientific manner, like this, I was astonished; gratful am I indeed to my friend for the opportunity afforded me of hearing an 'Amateur' on so uncommon an instrument. The talent of this concerto whistler did not, however, end here. No sooner was a bumper drank to the 'prosperity and happiness of Miss B- -,' the daughter of our host, than Mr. M. sang four congratulatory verses which he had composed for the occasion. This, being unexpected, was highly relished; and when mama requested 'to be favoured with a copy,' he pulled out of his pocket a letter addressed to her; and one to Miss B, containing copies all cut and dry,' as the phrase is. The devil's in this fellow, thought I, what next? He sent below for his flute; (a handsome ivory one it is ;) he then performed a sort of fantasia, introducing 'Auld Robin Gray,' 'Home, sweet Home!' and concluded, by imitating the bagpipe! Roars of laughter followed this; and all concluded that Mr. M. must be in correspondence with some supernatural agency!

·

During a subsequent part of the evening, the same whistling gentleman got up, and, with the greatest ease imaginable, induced us all to believe, that we had been transplanted to the Italian Opera. He imitated Velluti to the life in Popol d'Egitto,' and an extempore effusion, in which he gave the Signor's peculiarity of voice, manner, attitude, and expression. All were surprised at its fidelity. Then followed Curioni, in that clever singer's exact manner. Then Porto's deep tones, so contrasted with Velluti's shrill ones, that it appeared ludicrous in the extreme. Even Madame Pasta seemed not beyond his power of imitation; and he concluded with a very clever one of Braham, in 'My heart with love is beating.' This was so exact, that, even while conscious of the deception, it was difficult to doubt the reality. St. James's.

SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES.

ANACREON.

WE have long witnessed with feelings of regret the progress of a contest between this society and certain of its members, whom we know to be distinguished as much for their talents and acquirements, as their zeal in the defence of its best and, indeed, vital interests. The reasoning by which we are to come at the truth in the controversy between the two parties, is plain and simple. A society like that of the Antiquaries, is not instituted for private purposes; it has public duties to fulfil, and an account to render of the manner in which it performs its office. Objections now are made to the management of its concerns. Accusations are brought forward of its utter neglect of the legitimate purposes of its institution, and a demand is made that its members in general, and the public, may be satisfied on the points in question. Nothing can be more reasonable than this, and it will do honour to the parties who have made it, if they repeat it, till a satisfactory answer be given to the complaints, or the reform that is sought for be effected. On Thursday, we understand, a general meeting will take place for the purpose of choosing the officers and council of the society, when we hope to find the cause of truth prevailing, and such alterations taking place as shall make this learned body more active and jealous in the discharge of its duties to the public. We refer our readers for a full explanation of the subject in debate, to an excellent article in the last number of 'The Retrospec tive Review.'

LES DESTINEES FUTURES DE L'EUROPE.' THIS work, published recently at Paris, and now republished at Brussels, has made an extraordinary sensation in the country, of which the latter is the capital; but would scarcely be presumed, beyond the Low Counthere. As a specimen of the correctness of knowledge tries, to justify the unqualified praises it has received of the anonymous author, we extract what accidentally met our sight on perusing a brief portion of the work: 'Les deux Royaumes les plus libres, et les plus généreusement gouvernés, l'Angleterre et les Pays Bas, ont eu et ont pour Rois des Princes de la Maison d'Orange.' This is news for the Heralds' Office.

M. A. DUVAL.

CHARLES II.; ou, Le Labyrinthe de Woodstock,' in three acts, and in prose, taken from "The Woodstock' of Sir Walter Scott, has just been produced at the Théâtre de l'Odéon, and has met with complete suc cess.