qualiter. Nay, on the whole it needed to be done: the English are utterly, I may say disgracefully and stupidly dark about all Prussian and German things;- and it did behove that some Englishman should plunge, perhaps on his mere English resources, into that black gulph, and tear up some kind of human footpath that others might follow. At any rate, I hope to get it done; and that will be reward enough for me after the horrible imprisonment I have had in it so long.

The Edinburgh Review on Goethe I have not seen somebody told me it was by, whom you may remember: "Hat nichts zu bedeuten," there or here. Nor Lord Brougham's speculations on the Great Friedrich any more; the speculations of Lord Brougham's horse are as well worth attending to. And indeed are about as much attended to by the best kind of people here! For I am happy to say, there is, sparingly discoverable, a class among us of a silent kind, much superior to that vocal one; -and many a Palmerston," ," "Crimean War," &c., &c., as mirrored in the Newspapers and in the heads of these Stillen im Lande would surprise you by the contrasts offered. What they call "Liberty of the press "is become a thing not beautiful to look at in this country, to those who have eyes!

The Indian mutiny is an ominous rebuke. It seems probable they will get it beaten down again, but I observe those who know least about it make lightest of it. What would Friedrich Wilhelm have said to such an "army " as that black one has been known for thirty years past to be! Miss Wynne has returned to us; bright as ever. Adieu, dear Sir, take care of yourself through the grim months.

Yours ever truly,

T. CARLYLE.

The little Ahlefeld book (tell Madame) is a great favorite here, as it deserves to be, with all who see it.

From The National Review.
A POSEUSE OF THE EIGHTEENTH

CENTURY.

IF a soothsayer had suddenly informed Philippe Egalité, on his wedding day, that he would select as the person most capable of giving his sons, as well as his daughters, a solid education, a lady who had spent many months of her childhood in running about the country dressed as Cupid (wings omitted for church), who

only abandoned her airy costume for a boy's uniform, which she wore till she went to Paris; who could not write till she was eleven, and passed her time in acting, and in studying music and a few romances, till she was married at seventeen, if a soothsayer had stated these facts, and informed the prince of the rôle that the ignorant little girl was to play in the Orleans family, he would have laid himself open to a good deal of mockery from the beaux esprits about the court.

Yet such, in a few words, is the early history of Madame de Genlis. She was born on January 25, 1746, at Champcéri, near Autun, and lived there, and at another house on the banks of the Loire, till she was five, when her father bought the estate of St. Aubin, and the marquisate that went with it. The St. Aubins were at no time rich, not even before they were absolutely ruined; and during the years that followed their ruin the marquis was a good deal from home, his last journey being to St. Domingo, where he had property. During all this while Félicité was her mother's companion, sharing her Her amusements, and more than sharing her duty of entertaining any visitors. brother (intended for the Church, and dressed as an abbé), was being educated at a lycée; and, although mentioned in the holiday amusements, he does not seem to have been much "accounted of." "He was nothing like so brilliant a child as I," Félicité says, with the charming modesty to which she so often alludes.Who, indeed, was there to compare with her? We pass over her merely infantile triumphs, of which there were plenty. At ten she acts in "Zaïre" and "Iphigenia," and is assured by the spectators that she outdoes Clairon; she makes verses that are shown to the leading literary men in Paris, one of whom, Mondorge, "reads them with inexpressible delight!" At thirteen her harp-playing is listened to with rapture by the most accomplished musicians; her mind "has a force quite exceptional at her age; " and she shows "the greatest possible turn for dancing."

In her love affairs it is just the same. "Before I left Burgundy there occurred an event which no woman ever forgets — the first passion she inspires. I was only eleven," she says, "and very small for my age, looking about eight or nine; yet a young man of eighteen fell violently in The young man was a love with me." doctor's son, who had for two years been one of the troupe of players whom her mother had gathered round her. Madame

which (to use the words of Madame de Genlis) "had not only passed away, but was effaced." If the vanity which she

lasting and disagreeable impression on us, it does not do away with the fact that she was a keen observer and a lively writer. Indeed, as Grimm remarks, she was, although not a profound critic, well versed in the surface movements of society, and has contrived (he is alluding particularly to "Adèle et Théodore ") to hit off the manners of the day without caricaturing them.

fashions and habits that never lose their interest even for the most philosophic; what time our ancestors had their dinner, what clothes they wore, and similar items of foolishness.

de Genlis is tediously fond of omitting to give the dates of the events recorded, though she never tries to falsify her age. She could not have been more than four-carried into every detail of life makes a teen when she declined the offer of a M. de Monville, "having determined only to marry a man of rank, belonging to the court; in preference to any one else, I should have fixed on M. de Popelinière," she remarks, "in spite of his being a farmer-general and an old man; but he had won my admiration, whereas I felt nothing warmer than esteem for M. de Monville." Her capacity for imagining all men to be in love with her continued As every one is acquainted with the through most of her life. "Custom did main facts of this strange woman's career, not stale its infinite variety;" nor did the this article will deal chiefly with the sidefact that (in later days) some of her ador-lights thrown by her on the little daily ers might have been her grandsons make much difference; yet an occasional gleam of common sense breaks through her inordinate egotism. She notes (and it is a sign of grace) that her governess openly makes fun of the flatterers who compare her to Clairon; and remarks of her own accord that, anxious though all the world may be to listen to her harp-playing, her mother is still more unduly anxious to thrust her accomplishments on the public. It is not easy to tell how far the eight volumes of memoirs published in 1825 can really be trusted to give an accurate account of the events recorded in them. Amid the most adverse circumstances, Madame de Genlis kept a journal all through her life; but when, the Revolution drawing on, she left France, to wander for years from country to country with Mlle. d'Orléans, she handed over her precious volumes to her daughter, Madame de Valence. As Madame de Valence was soon after committed to prison, the journals, among other things, were hopelessly lost; and all that remained of the original documents was a volume that Madame de Genlis had taken with her. She assures us that the contents were so engraven on her memory by repeated readings to her friends that she was able to re-write them exactly; but (as in the case of Madame de Rémusat, with a similar misfortune) it is impossible not to feel misgivings that, although the facts may remain unchanged, the point of view may have varied, and events that have been written down as they occurred at twenty will take a very different complexion at sixty.

Still, take it how you will, these memoirs that she produced in 1812 throw an interesting and curious light on the occupations and amusements of a century

If Madame de Genlis's own account of her bringing-up before her marriage is true, she is a remarkable example of a woman who has learnt from experience, and has contrived, even among the incessant claims of society, to repair her parents' neglect in the matter of education. At six she set forth with her mother to Paris, where she spent a few dismal weeks. After she had had two teeth taken out (the history of children is always the same), "they put a pair of stiff whalebone stays on me, and imprisoned my feet in tight shoes, which prevented me from walking. They rolled my hair in curl papers, and I wore for the first time a panier. To cure my provincial air, an iron collar was fastened round my neck; and, as I squinted a little, the moment I woke, a pair of spectacles was placed on my nose, and these I was not allowed to move for four hours. Finally, to my great surprise, I was given a master to teach me how to walk (which I thought I knew before), and I was forbidden to run, or to jump, or to ask questions." The private baptism of her infancy was supplemented by a public ceremony, and then her woes were partly forgotten in the delight of fêtes, and the glory of her first opera. This was "Roland le Furieux;" and she was fortunate enough to hear Chassé, the singer who five years later was ennobled "on account of his voice and his beautiful style." Unlike his comrades, he had some notion of modulation.

Modern mothers will exclaim with horror at the notion of taking their children to theatres at the age of six; but, in the

self came out before she was fourteen, and she is by no means a solitary example. At any rate, at thirteen, Félicité had lessons (at 6 A.M.), from the celebrated Peilegrini in singing, and in accompaniment from the composer Philidor. She learnt the musette and the viola, besides the clavecin and guitar; and for a whole year had such a passion for the harp that she practised it daily for seven hours, sometimes continuing even for ten or twelve. When about sixteen, she was living with her mother in a convent, and immense crowds assembled in church to hear her play the harp.

first place, music was the one genuine passion of Madame de Genlis's life; and, in the second, spectacles began at a much earlier hour than they do now. People dined at two; and the Comédie Française was supposed to draw up its curtain about five, so that the audience were able to pay evening visits or go out to supper after the performance was over, before making ready for a bal de l'opéra. Still, it is noteworthy that in this matter, as in regard to dress, the theory insisted on by Madame de Genlis was quite different from the practice of her youth. Her model children have their limbs free, and may ask as many questions as they choose." They After all these years of Paris in the are brought up in the country far from winter and country-house visiting in the parade or ostentation of any sort,-in-summer-their income during part of the deed, so far from Paris that they may not even hear of such things; and if their bedtime is considerably later than we should think desirable, at least it is much earlier than that of Félicité herself. In fact, Madame de Genlis's views of bringing up children are a severe reflection on the training her own mother had bestowed; perpetual visiting, eternal plays, incessant declamation. What wonder that the child grew up to consider herself a marvel, what wonder, either, that she was enchanted to exchange the iron collar and whalebone stays for Cupid's pink satin frock covered with point lace and sprinkled with artificial flowers, and to put on the yellow and silver boots and blue wings? The costume seems hardly suitable for muddy country lanes; yet she wore out many such garments, and next jumped to the other extreme in a boy's dress, which was the most comfortable and sensible thing she had yet worn, and enabled her to move about to her heart's content and leap over ditches. She had no education in the common sense of the word. Her governess, Mile. de Mars, who came when Félicité was quite a little thing, was a good musician; but she read nothing with her pupil beyond Mlle. Scudery's romances, and Mlle Barbier's plays. In the morning the child sang, danced, and fenced; by way of recreation, she made artificial flowers, and practised four hours daily on the clavecin, the guitar, and the harp.

One cannot help speculating as to whether in those days children matured physically at an earlier age than they do now. How is it possible to explain the hours that girls then devoted to singing when they were twelve or thirteen, and the extraordinary youth of many of the débutantes at the Opera? Sophie Arnould her

time was nominally six hundred francs the epoch of Félicité's marriage arrived. Her father had made acquaintance with M. de Genlis at Launceston, whither both had been carried as English prisoners — one on his way from St. Domingo, the other from India and China. M. de Genlis had served for fourteen years with distinction in the navy, which did not in the least prevent his being one of twentyfour colonels of Grenadiers, and (after his marriage) joining his regiment. Before that event, however, M. de St. Aubin died of low fever; and eighteen months later his wife married a man whom her daughter had refused. Delicacy was not the distinguishing characteristic of those times. This may be gathered from the fact that the marriage of M. de Genlis had to be performed secretly, because he had allowed his uncle, M. de Puisieux, to arrange an alliance for him with another lady, and lacked the courage to inform either of them of his change of plans.

The young couple were not rich; but, as in modern days, the amount of their income (twelve thousand francs) seemed to make very little difference. No one appeared to take life seriously, and they passed their time in inventing elaborate (and costly) diversions. "Dressing-up to amuse Byng's aunt" was an entertainment that never failed. Endless are the histories of these mystifications. They induced one unfortunate man, the Duc de Civrac, to lie perdu in a garret for twenty-four hours after his arrival from Vienna, in order to produce him at the proper moment, in a fête they were preparing for M. de Puisieux's birthday. They carry on a mystification played upon a house-painter for eight months, and go through elaborate ceremonies, in which they persuade the poor fool that he is created a grandee of

Spain; and, strange to say, the deception | village (bleeding is among her accomplishis kept up not only by the Genlis family ments); and acts plays in odd moments. themselves, but by the servants and vil- It is easy to see that she is not greatly lagers. It is seldom indeed that practical pleased with the fuss that is made over jokes have any real humor; but consider- her young sister-in-law, the marquise, for able fun was got out of Madame de Gen- she never loses a chance of having a fling lis's first introduction to Rousseau. Some at her. Indeed, the art of "praising the weeks before, M. de Sauvigny had given charms" of "a sister," or of anybody else, her to understand that her husband in- was not one of the many in which Madame tended passing off on her Préville the de Genlis excelled. The delight and asactor for Rousseau himself. Having once perity with which she records the failures made this project, M. de Genlis thought of all who attempt to vie with her, in parno more about it; and when one day ticular of her young aunt, Madame de Rousseau was announced, she received Montesson, whom she declares that she him in a jaunty, off-hand manner, chattered loves "almost to madness," are surprisand laughed, played and sang, and alto-ing. Like Alexander, she would reign, gether showed in her conduct little of the and she would reign alone, and no attempt reverence due to a philosopher. Her hus- to interfere with her sovereignty is allowed band watched her in astonishment, and to go unpunished. According to her own when Rousseau had departed, inquired view, she is a quiet and unobtrusive perhow she could have gone on like that. son, and could with difficulty be roused to "Oh," she answered, "you didn't suppose bear any part in what was going on. "Up that I should be so simple as to take Pré- to this time," she writes, when relating ville for Rousseau?" "Préville?" "Yes; her visit to the Prince de Conti's lovely no one could have done it better, except property called l'Ile d'Adam,-"up to that, of course, he ought not to have been this time I was only known by my harp so genial and good-humored." Rousseau, and my face. I had always kept silence however, bore no malice; and they were when in company, and my reserve and quite good friends till the inevitable quar- timidity augured ill for my conversation." rel came. One evening, however, it was suggested that she and two gentlemen should act a proverbe. It was a prodigious success, and all the ladies were crazy to act proverbes. Therefore a series of entertainments, in which Madame de Montesson and Madame de Sabran had parts, were arranged. Alas!"they played not even passably, but ridiculously, and, becoming aware of their failure, lost their tempers and were very cross. Madame de Sabran cried with rage, and henceforth was my enemy. I have made many from equally frivolous causes."

It is to Madame de Genlis's credit that she resented being considered a "fine lady;" but she took some singular means of vindicating herself from the aspersion. Immediately after her marriage she and her husband were staying with the Marquis de Genlis in his château, and they all went fishing in the lakes. Irritated by some badinage as to "Paris manners," she picked up a live fish the length of her finger and swallowed it whole. It did not choke her; but she was punished for the nasty trick by the horrible fear, which possessed her for many months, that the fish was alive and would grow.

The custom of ladies following the drum was not considered correct in the last century. Thus, when M. de Genlis was occupied by garrison duties, his wife either retired into a convent or stayed with some elderly relative. It was at these times that she began to improve herself. She spent her days in reading Roman History, Madame de Sévigné, the "Lettres Provinciales," Marivaux, and other authors, while she learnt cooking and embroidery from the nuns. On her husband's return to his brother's house of Genlis, near St. Quentin, they amuse themselves as before. She takes to riding, and "becomes very clever at it;" is taught billiards, reversi, and picquet; doctors the

The naïveté of this last remark is delicious. The words could only have been uttered by a person without a grain of humor. But then humor is a wonderful specific against vanity, and is the best preservative against making oneself ridic ulous. Madame de Genlis had none of it, and rambles complacently on, narrating her own triumphs at the expense of every one else. This aunt, Madame de Montesson, plays a great part in her life. They are always quarrelling and always "making it up;" but, whatever terms they may be on at the moment, Madame de Genlis never loses an opportunity of telling tales to her discredit. She is furious with Madame de Montesson for becoming the morganatic wife of the Duke of Orleans (father of Philippe Egalité),