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those of which we are now speaking on a familiar footing, they could not be omitted without leaving the picture incomplete. There were of this foreign admixture,-Lord Orrery, Lord Lucan, a bishop or two, Mr. Topham Beauclerk, and some others of the same class. Then came Mr. Thrale, a brewer, but a man of Oxford education, and a member of parliament; and Mrs. Macauley, sister of Mr. Sawbridge; the leading booksellers and printers ; Sir Joshua Reynolds, Nollekens, Burney, Hawkins, Burke, Garrick, Goldsmith, and other artists and authors; Warren Hastings, Lord Clive, and other fortunate adventurers from the East I ndies ; lawyers and clergymen; Dr. Bathurst and several of the most eminent physicians; Mr. Ryland, a merchant on Tower-hill; Mr. Diamond, apothecary, in Cork street, Burlington gardens; Mrs. Gardiner, 'wife of a tallowchandler on Snow-hill, not in the learned way, but a worthy good woman;' his humble friend Levett, and other of this lowest class in the middle classes."


“One evening, at the (Ivy lane) club, Johnson proposed to us the celebrating the birth of Mrs. Lennox's first literary child, as he called her book, by a whole night spent in festivity. Upon his mentioning it to me, I told him I never sat up a whole night in my life; but, he continuing to press me, and saying that I should find great delight in it, I, as did all the rest of our company, consented. The place appointed was the Devil Tavern, and there, about the hour of eight, Mrs. Lennox and her husband, and a lady of her acquaintance, as also the club, and friends, to the number of nearly twenty, assembled.

The supper was elegant, and Johnson had directed that a hot apple-pie should make a part of it, and this he would have stuck with bay-leaves, because, forsooth, Mrs. Lennox was an authoress, and had written verses; and further, he had prepared for her a crown of laurel, with which, but not till he had invoked the Muses by some ceremonies of his own invention, he encircled her brows. The night passed, as must be imagined, in pleasant conversation and harmless mirth, intermingled at different periods with the refreshments of coffee and tea. About five Johnson's face shone with meridian splendour, though his drink had been only lemonade; but the greater part of the company had deserted the colours of Bacchus, and were with difficulty rallied to partake of a second refreshment of coffee, which was scarcely ended when the day began to dawn. This phenomenon began to put us in mind of our reckoning; but the waiters were all so overcome with sleep, that it was two hours before a bill could be had, and it was not till near eight that the creaking of the street door gave signal for our departure.' In another of Johnson's tavern scenes, we find two women and a clergyman, the Rev. Mr. Maxwell, who tells the anecdote :

-Two young women from Staffordshire visited him when I was present, to consult him on the subject of Methodism, to which they were inclined. 'Come,' said he, 'you pretty fools, dine with Maxwell and me at the Mitre, and we will talk over that subject;' which they did, and after dinner he took one of them upon his knee and fondled her for half an hour together.”

One specimen more,

“In the Annual Register for 1765 it is emphatically stated in the notice of the election of Stephen Theodore Jansen, Esq., to be chamberlain of the city of London, that he was the first sheriff for a long time that ventured to see justice executed at Tyburn, even in cases that seemed to require it most, without the aid of a military force.' In 1763 we learn from the same work that, “as soon as the execution of several criminals, condemned at last sessions at the Old Bailey, was over at Tyburn, the body of Cornelius Saunders, executed for stealing about £50 out of the house of Mrs. White, in Lamb-street, Spitalfields, was carried and laid before her door ; where, great numbers of people assembling, they at last grew so outrageous that a guard of soldiers was sent for to stop their proceedings, notwithstanding which they forced open the door, fetched out all the salmon-tubs, most of the household furniture, piled them on a heap and set fire to them, and, to prevent the guard from extinguishing the flames, pelted them off with stones, and would not disperse till the whole was consumed.' Next year a similar scene was enacted :— The criminal, condemned for returning from transportation at this sessions, and afterwards executed, addressed himself to the populace at Tyburn, and told them he could wish they would carry his body and lay it at the door of Mr. Parker, a butcher in the Minories, who it seems was the principal evidence against him : which being accordingly done, the mob behaved so riotously before the man's house that it was no easy matter to disperse them.' In lighter matters the easily assembled and excited commonalty of London seems to have been animated with a reckless self-willed spirit of contradiction. Nothing delighted it so much as to take the punishment of a pickpocket or similar delinquent into its own hands, and duck the offender ; except, perhaps, to rescue its victim from the police, if they chanced in some moment of unwonted vigilance to lay hold of him, and, offended at the interference of the officers of regular justice with those of irregular justice, to allow him to escape."

Art. XI.-Memoirs of Madame Lafarge. Written by herself. 2 vols.

Colburn. The notoriety which the writer of these volumes has acquired among the causes celèbres, and the temporary interest which her trials for the foulest crimes created throughout Europe, warrant a notice in our journal of her Memoirs now that they have appeared in an English dress, and the more especially seeing that the work is addressed to “ The Ladies of England.” This dedication is so characteristic that we at once copy it out. To the Ladies of England.--Go, O my thoughts ! towards that free and lovely isle, which has sympathised for misfortune, which will have belief for truth: go, and bear my thanks to the noble daughters of England, who have mixed their tears with my tears : carry my benedictions to those wives, virtuous

enough to believe in virtue ; strong enough, perhaps, openly to absolve a poor, condemned woman. Noble ladies, who are the happiness of those whom your hearts have chosen, the joys of your children, the glories of your homes, when I come to you, do not repulse me: let the sorrows of the prisoner mix themselves with your blessed and well-loved life; give a tear to her griefs, absolution to her faults: let your faith protect her innocence on earth : let your prayers mount for her towards heaven.- Marie Cappelle.

“ Prison of Tulle, 14th Sept. 1841."

But, independent of the interest which the trials and Memoirs of this misguided and no doubt very guilty but clever woman have created, there is a useful text of which they may be regarded as a lively and powerful exposition. It is not alone because the book is one which relates strange incidents, describes extraordinary scenes, and introduces a great variety of characters, although frequently neither the one nor the other of these classes of subjects has any immediate connection with the writer's purpose of whitewashing herself in the eyes of the world, that we speak of the work as being calculated to teach an important lesson. What we particularly mean is this, that it not only furnishes striking proofs that French manners and sentiments are exceedingly at variance with those which obtain in this country; but that it would be a most imprudent act if we should attempt to imitate our lively neighbours, or to exchange our grave and becoming habits for their frivolity and morbid affections.

We have seldom had stronger illustrations than those which occur in these volumes of the defective nature of education, especially female education in the genteel and aristocratic circles of France. Their code of morals, of manners, and of sentimentality appears, if not in many respects to be positively vicious, at least to offer to such a being as the writer of these Memoirs the most convenient opportunities for the breaches of sound principles and delicate feelings, which the young and susceptible are naturally too much inclined to commit. There are in truth many passages in this publication which it would be dangerous for a girl to read, and to admire or study; and therefore it is to be hoped that with other serious warnings which are frequently afforded by the fate of the young ladies who are sent to France to acquire the utmost polish and the most attractive graces, this book may have its uses in the hands of parents. One perusal will impress such persons with salutary convictions of the sort referred to, and perhaps save some headstrong Marie Cappelle, who, however, appears to have been endowed with certain lofty and generous sentiments, from the depths of infamy to which she has sunk.

This woman was born in 1816, her family being connected with several eminent persons, and in possession of what may be called a baronial inheritance; and her Memoirs commence with the begining of her existence, reaching down to the period when gross errors and heinous crimes were the cause of her being bereft of liberty. Her narrative is both minute and discursive, exculpatory and cunningly framed. But we have no intention either to accompany the Memoirs regularly, or to do more than quote some passages which convey a few pictures of French female education, and of French society. The following specimen of philosophy and also of adventure is significant :

“ Between young girls the confidence of a secret is as important, as it is solemn for her who receives that confidence. It is an initiation to the mysteries of the soul and to the mysteries of devotion. It is, in some degree, an entrance into the paradise of her dreams; a little conspiracy against the absolute power of her family, which would retain its monopoly over her thoughts without relinquishing its monopoly of lectures. In short, it is something sacred, which makes the heart beat high ; it is something forbidden, which causes it to tremble.—Marie now recounted to me, in a whisper, that, one day at the beginning of winter, having gone on foot with her maid to make some purchases, she had been obliged to enter an om nibus to seek shelter from the rain. A glove of the most orthodox yellow tint, having been tendered to facilitate her ascent, she raised her eyes, charged with thanks, to that amiable glove, when she saw that it belonged to a young man of unexceptionable form and person, who had the manners of a gentleman and the air of a nobleman. The Rue St. Honoré is very long, and it was necessary to traverse it throughout in order to regain the Rue d'Angoulême, during which time both parties examined each other, and enabled each other to divine that the result was perfectly satisfactory. Marie, in negligently playing with her handkerchief, permitted her pretty name, embroidered there at length, and surmounted with a countess's coronet, proud and coquettish, to be seen. The stranger, on receiving some villanous large sous in change from a new and brilliant piece of silver, disdainfully desired the conductor to release him from that disagreeable burden, and to scatter them among some beggars. At last, when Marie desired to descend, he descended first, again offered her his hand, then, having respectfully saluted her, remained immovable in the midst of the rain and the mud, to protect her with his eyes, until the moment when the great door of her hótel was closed between her and him.”

Here is another :

“The grand relations of the family of Montaigu were sent for, to give to the pretty little boy his name and his qualification of Christian ; but as they could not quit Paris to baptize the little marmot, my uncle begged M. Cha to represent his father-in-law, and I had the honour of representing the godmother.—'Do you know the necessary forms for this ceremony?' said my aunt, laughing, to him. 'Not at all,' replied the godfather. Then, turning to me, he asked me to assist him, and to teach him

prayers. I sat down on a couch in the drawing-room; he seated himself on a low chair just at my feet, took my large mass-book, and the lesson


commenced. I said the prayers over to him, and he repeated them after me. When we came to the salutation of the angel, he took a long time to learn it, a long time to repeat it; and as we finished he opened the book at the mass of marriage, and tore out the two leaves, as he said, “You will not be able to read that again without me.'

Madame's education was conducted for a time at St. Denis, and her reception in Paris served afterwards to finish her. She appears to have had a great deal of her time divided between the gaieties which dancing and promenades presented, and attendance upon the services of the church; the latter having lent her opportunities for assignations and amours that were fully as convenient and welcome as were the more legitimate occasions for love-making. Here, for example, is a characteristic sentiment. “For health, a promenade in the Champs Elysées at two o'clock: for salvation, a prayer at St. Philippe.” She says that her mother had often repeated to her that she was ugly; but that one day when a certain gentleman had kissed her hand, she was so astonished, so vain, and so pleased, that she thanked him. Many such entries occur which indicate traits of character. She assures her readers also that she harboured strong affections for her relatives. Perhaps it was as she represents; and such an apparent contradiction with the manner in which she treated her husband may be reconcileable in the case of a being that was the subject of the most violent impulses. Certainly, according to her own story, she was capable of acting in the most extravagant manner towards M. Lafarge; nor would the crime of poisoning him in the protracted and insidious way charged, appear to involve such inconsistency of nature as she seeks to demonstrate. Into that tragic story we shall not however go; but instead of its disgusting and awful details extract some other extraordinary particulars :

"M. Lafarge came to seek us : he tried to seat me on his knees; and as I repulsed him with a positive refusal, he said aloud, laughing, that I only knew how to recline in a téte-à-téte. “Mamma,' he added, you do not know how she loves me, that little canne. Come, my duck, own that you are devilishly fond of me.' At the same time, to suit the action to the word, he clasped my waist, pinched my nose, and embraced me. My pride revolted at these words and actions, and I felt myself bursting with indignation as I listened to the endearing names, which classified me so politely with so many animals. No longer able to support this torture, I pretended excessive fatigue, letters to write, and retired to my chamber, where I locked myself in with Clementine. My chamber, as large as the drawing-room, was wholly unfurnished : two beds, four chairs, and one table, hermit-like, occupied its vast solitude. I asked for an inkstand ; they brought me a broken sweetmeat-jar, in which a morsel of cotton was swimming in grey water, an old pen, and paper blue as the sky. Clementine wished to undress me—it was impossible for me to rest in my bed. I made her lie down near me—for it appeared to me that, even sleeping, that

VOL. 111. (1841.) NO. II.

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