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ward to working in marble; he was always disposed to live abstemiously, as well from motives of health as of reflec tion, as his intense application had made him easily susceptible of severe stomach pains; and in his twenty-seventh year he was attacked by a violent and complicated disorder, which ever after threatened him from time to time with a return, requiring of him great caution, and confirming him in his natural disposition for a sober and regular mode of living. It was his daily custom to restore his powers by a short repose after eating; and the friends who dined with him always took care to introduce light and diverting topics of conversation, and to avoid subjects of the arts, or of a nature to highly excite his imagination or feelings; a slight emotion having the effect of disturbing his usual repose. He seldom went from home, but passed his evenings in receiving his friends, with an extreme gentleness and urbanity of manners, but without the slightest approach to meanness or affectation.

rit with the utmost candour and good will. It was never his wish to be adopted as a model, or to have direct imitators, observing, that the great masters, by whom he had been guided, were equally accessible to all, being no others than nature and antiquity. He was, however, obliged to | allow that at the era of his first arrival at Rome, these two sources of instruction had been neglected, and that he had been the first to apply the means of improvement which they afforded; but it was with the utmost caution and modesty that he noticed this fact, to avoid wounding the pride of others, who were not very willing to do justice to his services, and attributed much to themselves which was justly his due. "Criticism likewise never produced any irritation in him; if false and violent, he wholly disregarded it; if just and modest, he adopted the means of improvement which it furnished, always, however, shewing great deference for enlightened advice. When some of his friends wished to "It was his constant rule not to have pupils, at least in reply to a certain Sig. Fernow, who had published a pamthe strict sense of the term, and was used to assign as a phlet against him in German, from which extracts had been reason for it, that if a youth of good capabilities were to made into the Encyclopædean Journal of Naples, he earstudy under him, the merit of his works would be attributed || nestly dissuaded them from it, saying, that it was for him to the master, who would thus derive from it the benefit to answer it, but only with his chisel, and by an improvedue to the unrequited pupil: but it was his invariable cus- ment in his works; but he would listen with attention to tom, whenever a young artist evinced more than ordinary observations on his works, even by the most uninstructed, power, or when any one of his workmen raised himself from which, as Virgil could extract thoughts from the verses above mediocrity, to give him every encouragement, to pro- of Ennius, he sometimes obtained some useful suggestions, cure commissions for him, and even to set him to work on by which he has in some cases been led to retouch his work; his own account, as in the instance of his causing to be as in the instance of his Perseus, and the group of Venus sculptured at his own expense, so large a portion of the sta- and Adonis, which in its way from Naples to Geneva was tues which adorned the Pantheon, but which have, since delayed for some time in the study of the artist, and retheir expulsion thence, been received into the various gal- ceived some very valuable improvements twenty-seven leries of the Capitoline museum. At any moment when years after its completion. Undisturbed by censure, he required he would leave his own work to go to the study of was on the other hand little elated by praise, however high any artist who wanted his counsel or opinion, which he or exaggerated. The calmness and modesty of his characgave with such cordiality, as never to wound their profes ter, which few have ever possessed in an equal degree, rensional pride, but, on the contrary, as always to afford them dering him equally unmoved by eulogy and censure.' aid and encouragement. To those who express surprise, that not a single pupil of Canova con be absolutely cited, it may be answered that, if they will compare the state of his art at the era of his earliest productions with that of the present day, it will appear most convincingly that the effect of the examples which he has afforded to all Europe in his own works, has been infinitely greater than what could have been derived from a few precepts inculcated in his private study.

"He was very solicitous to instruct and adorn his mind in every respect that could tend to the perfect education of an artist; he read himself, but more often caused to be read to him, while at work, the classical Grecian, Roman, and Italian writers, particularly Polybius and Tacitus, whom he considered most luminous and characteristical of the times, which they so masterly describe. His own style in writing was always simple and ingenuous, although his letters serve to shew the progressive correctness of his language, so that the latter part of them without losing their original force and freedom, and uncorrupted, on the other hand, by the obscure affectation of modern style, are more elegantly written than those of an earlier date.

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"His susceptibility and active fancy gave great quickness and energy to his invention, prompting his imagination spontaneously, and without effort, to reach the great and excellent in his designs. He usually threw his first thoughts on paper in a few slight outlines, which he often varied and retouched, and then sketched in clay or wax, in small dimensions with this he studied the composition of his subject, which was afterward transferred to the full-sized model, and perfected with all the resources of his genius and art. His tranquillity was never in the slightest degree disturbed by jealousy of the success of others, but, on the contrary, he always spoke of his rivals and of artists of me

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This distinguished artist died at Venice, in October, 1821, aged 65. His biographer has accompanied the memoir with an estimate of Canova's character as a sculptor. That it is highly favourable may well be imagined: that it is not beyond the sculptor's merits we venture to assert. There is no reason why we should transfer that critical estimate to our pages, but it is worth the general study of every admirer of genius. The biography itself, though neatly drawn up, is a mere sketch. It forms an appropriate introduction to the elegant work of Mr. Moses-a work which does credit to his own talents, and we hope likewise to the state of public taste and liberality.

Illustrations of Mickleham Church, Surrey. By P. F. ROBINSON, Architect. London: Carpenter and Son. MR. ROBINSON, who is already known to the world of art for his interesting volume on Ornamental Cottage Architecture, &c. having been employed in his professional capacity to enlarge and repair the ancient church at Mickleham, in Surrey, and discovering that from the decaved state of the fabric it would be necessary to rebuild the whole of the nave and part of the tower; with that respect for the genius of our forefathers, and prevailing good taste which characterise so many of our living architects, determined to preserve a record of the sacred building as it stood

in 1822. This has been done in a style creditable to the talent and research of the author.

expectations of that plodding ignorance, which has so long enquired, "of what use are these vanities ?" The second title to this agreeable quarto informs us Lately we saw a number of a very fine topographical that it is an attempt to ascertain the age of the church || work, publishing at Birmingham, descriptive of Warof Mickleham, in Surrey, with remarks on the archiwickshire. A similar work on the county, is issuing tecture of that building. We have looked into this work, and are so much pleased with the arrangement, the comparative specimens of ancient ornaments, and other pictorial embellishments, that we shall next week afford it a very particular notice.

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from the city of Oxford, and we could name many fine works publishing, or preparing for publication in various parts of the kingdom.

The truly classic little work before us, the Greek Islands, &c. has issued from what our northern friends are prone to designate the modern Athens-It is worthy of the Scottish press. We are delighted to see the rapid growth of taste on this long sterile soil. Rivalry

in arms between the south and the north is, we trust, for ever hushed by the benignant guardian of our isle; a more congenial contest has succeeded, a rival emulation for honors in the field of arts.

The drawings for this publication, which is to be composed of six parts, each containing six plates, are by Mr. H. W. Williams, of Edinbro', who is well known for his travels and researches in the ancient classic regions of which he treats. Mr. Cockerell contributed the opening subject, "the Restoration of the Parthenon," and the plates are engraved by Messrs. W. Miller, J. Horsburg, and James Stewart. The letter press illustrations, if they may be so called, are Greek and Latin quotations, selected and translated for the work, by Mr. J. Patterson, of Edinburgh: so that the whole is of the manufacture of this modern Athens.

THIS is a rich and elegant front and tower of a church, designed in a goth.c style, accompanied by a prited quarto pamphlet, intended to expose the injustice of the committee to the architect, after adopting his plan, by vote, in preference to those of a numerous body of other ingenious candidates. We are of opinion, on a careful perusal of this pamphlet, that Mr. Wallace has made out a complete case, and that he is justified in taking this public method of exposing the flagrant | injustice of the parties concerned in what appears so entirely a job. We shall next week offer our sentiments at length upon the disgraceful proceedings of other committees, on the subject of public buildings, which are a reflection upon the country and the age. We have felt no small degree of surprise, after so much experience of the want of integrity and honourable The plates are of a very diminutive scale, but so feeling of many committees we could name, that any intelligent and correct in execution, and so beautiful architect of reputation can be found to enter the lists. in effect, that we feel no deficiency of space, and parfor so precarious a reward-as that which seems to be ticularly recommend those whose vision is not very the order of the day to hold out, by building commit-acute, to look at them through a magnifying medium, tees, and committees of taste.

Select Views in Greece. By H. W. WILLIAMS. London:
Hurst, Robinson and Co.

EVERY year, nay almost every month now, brings forth from the united efforts of the painter, engraver, and the printer, a variety of elegant and interesting publications upon the fine arts, many of which, from their superior graphic illustrations, are sought with avidity by the foreign collectors, from their admiration of our book prints, which have of late acquired the reputation of excelling those of any other country. To the value of these tasteful and meritorious ornaments to our literary productions, must be added the beauty of the printing, and the elegant arrangements of the press, altogether, which have stamped a current value upon English books of a certain class, that renders them a marketable commodity among the enlightened, all over the world. We have long expected the event, and the time is fast approaching, when it will be found that the fine arts will be productive of commercial advantages to this country, immeasurably beyond the

by which they may discover an accuracy and taste surpassing expectation.

THE PARTHENON restored, drawn by Mr. Cockerell, is exquisitively minute, and forms a curious historical composition. It is to be regretted, however, that the plates for however agreeable the elegant scraps may be to the have no descriptions sufficient to elucidate the subjects; classic scholar, the convenience of the general reader should be consulted in a work like this.

The Parthenon in its present state, is a melancholy subject-the ruin of antiquity itself! It is too faithful a representation of that dilapidated pile, and awakens associations that seem to justify the severe reflections that have been made upon so sacrilegious a spoliation.

CORINTH, backed by its lofty mountains, is a romantic scene, excellent in effect, and tastefully engraved; it is a sweet print.

DELPHI. CASTALIAN FOUNTAIN, ON MOUNT PARNASSUS. A magnificent scene, full of interest, and admirably engraved.

TEMPLES OF JUPITER, PANHELLENIUS, ÆGINA. A classic composition, and equally well engraved; the foreground is a trait of most delicate and tasteful execution: indeed the whole of the twelve plates are clever, and highly creditable to the talents of the Scottish school. Horsburgh, are agreeable in effect, and equally finished ATHENS FROM THE EAST, by Stewart, and THEBES, by with the preceding, which are by Miller, to whom has been

allotted the most imposing subjects. The cover should not pass unnoticed, as it bears the title in an ornamental bordure, designed with the most chaste and classic feeling: we have not seen a composition of the kind more congenial to our taste. It is drawn and engraved by W. H. Lazars.

It is due to all parties concerned, to notice that this second part is generally superior in subject and in execution to the first, and we may safely recommend the work, as entirely deserving of public patronage.

REVIEWS.

stranger caught as the campaigners rushed out, sat a lady whose face and figure would have been concealed by a black mantle and hood, intended to have folded over the head and person, had she not, through the alarm and terror of the moment, shaken off the covering, and exposed to the eyes of our veteran friends a face and form well calculated to have called up the recollection of ardent hopes, and gratified though departed happiness, in hearts however seared with disappointment or chilled with age.

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Apparently just entering into womanhood, the expression of the heedless, volatile, elasticity of youth was yielding to the calm and anxious thoughtfulness, which the expeperience that life is not an uninterrupted, unclouded summer day gives to the countenance even of those whose spirits seem equal or superior to the most bitter calamities which checquer our pilgrimage through this world. Her Tournay; or Alaster of Kempencairn. By the Author of eyes were light almost to a fault; but they were in perfect accordance with her yellow hair, and still more in unison the Fire Eater. Edinburgh: Anderson, 8vo. 1824. with her pale and bloodless cheeks. Except that her Of the Fire Eater we spoke in terms of praise, and a watery light streamed from her half-closed eyes, you lips retained the vivid brightness of the richest colouring, amounting almost to extravagance. It was a narrative might have believed that the animating spirit had fled, and full of interest and pathos, and excited the highest that all which remained was the mortal frame, still in expectations of future excellence. The present tale || death, glowing with the faintest of the fading hues of life" is by no means a justification of those hopes. It is in every respect inferior to its predecessor. With many good qualities, and some fine passages, it is still a tale of comparatively slight interest, and told in a slovenly manner. The greatest fault is a failure in embodying the conceptions of character, to which the pretensions are excessive.

The story is a relation of certain events, supposed to have taken place principally about that period of Marlborough's Campaign in 1709, which was occupied in the Siege of Tournay, and ended with the Battle of Malplaquet. The leading personage is a Major Ducholly-a Scotchman, who having been unfortunate in his domestic life, had turned military adventurer, and now found himself a Major in a Highland regiment in Flanders. His wife, some twenty years ago, had suddenly abandoned her home under suspicious circumstances, taking with her his only child-a daughter. In the course of one of his subordinate expeditions he meets with the following adventure:

"Before them stood a young man, easily recognised, from his peculiar garb, to belong to the Cavalerie Hongroise. His doublet was tight; and the closeness with which the sleeves clung to his arm, formed a striking contrast to the fashion of the day, where they would have contained almost the body of the wearer. Buskins, which, without grenouillieres, just reached the knee and were fastened to shoes shaped off with small iron heels, received, in accumulated folds, the culotte or pantaloon. His mantle scarcely touched his girdle, and his long tapering cap, bordered with fur, was ornamented with a narrow drooping plume. A richly embroidered pouch hung by a sling-belt from his shoulders and at his side was suspended by long and narrow leathern thongs, a Turkish cimiter, a narrow sword, || shaped lik a lance, stretched from the shoulder to the croupe of the horse, which, in costly housings, stood within a few feet, pawing the ground, and as if watchful to observe the least signal from its master. His right breast was covered with overfolding plates of vermillon d'argent, the badges which his courage and daring had won in the field, and testified that his services were not to be measured by his youthful appearance and bearing.

"Close behind him, on a horse, the bridle of which the

Ducholly prevents his soldiery from taking the young cavalier's life, and whilst engaged with his men, the prisoner makes an escape :

face, and which, notwithstanding his declaration, he had "The glow of humanity which had gleamed in Ducholly's felt at his heart, gave way to the resolute expression of deadly purpose. He saw that the stranger had taken advantage of the expostulation with Donatus, and had fled when Ducholly had thought that he had surrendered. He pointed to the Hongrois,-two of his men levelled their muskets, and with their aim steadily followed the fugitives. At this moment the horses were abreast. The stranger's arm encircled the waist of his companion. Before them was the morass. Another bound would place in safety the person whom he held dearer than life or freedom. He turned his head, and saw the soldiers with their fingers on the triggers; but as he drew up his horse, and threw himwith his body, John Lomm touched Ducholly's arm. self almost off with his exertion to shield his companion

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Eighteen years syne," he calmly said, “your fair-haired lassie was put into her father's arms. Did those pale blue een and gouden tresses bring nae sorrowfu' thoughts to your heart? Thae twa bairns have also parents. Ducholly, shall I say Fire?' for I see, by the trembling of your nether lip, that words are denied you, or shall I-shall strike up the muzzles?' And John drove the muskets aside, just in time to direct their discharge to the right, and allow the fugitives to plunge into the covert edging the canal, and the next moment to be scarcely discernible, toiling through the morass, which spread, almost without interruption, to the horizon.

"Ducholly for a time made no answer or observation. The indignation which had brought the blood to his forehead disappeared. The glare of his eyes passed away; but a baggard, deadly hue spread over his face. It was difficult to say whether the expression was that of the compunctious visitings of nature after crime, or of the corroding emotions of grief, concealed for years, but never mastered.

"It was eighteen years you said, John Lomm? Eighteen years,' he at length observed, in a low and broken voice, 'Ay, right. Your memory is good. You might have added eighteen this very day, this very hour. Pshaw! am I a child again? Let me rouse other recollections. Yesnow I have strung my nerves.' And Ducholly knitted his brow, and hoarsely ordered his men to form into marching order and proceed, the sternness of his countenance only varying with a bitter smile, as if in contempt of himself for

having been betrayed into a moment of unmanly weak

ness.

Of course this young lady is Ducholly's lost daughter, as we learn in the sequel of the story. She had been brought up in the family of a thickheaded Dutchman, whose son, Donatus, (at once a spy to the French and the Allies,) pesters her with his love-but she prefers the young cavalier. This is Duplessis, a gay, light hearted, accomplished, and brave French officer, and after a multitude of alarming chances and escapes, she finally becomes his wife. The Major experiences some perilous vicissitudes himself:-is suspected of being a traitor by the English, after having nearly lost his life in defeating the French. There is a Captain Andover of the Guards, who falls in love with the Comptesse Treillade, known in the annals of French gallantry as la petite Treillade, whom he carries off from a nunnery and espouses. This episode, if it may so be called, is one of the best parts in the book. The author's talent at description may be gathered from the following rather lengthy extract :

“The scene would have been a curious spectacle to a military person of the present day. The Earl, a well-made, || dark-coloured man, was mounted on a heavy black horse, covered with foam, and more jaded by its own restless impatience than from any speed which it had been obliged to exert. He sat erect on a high cantled saddle, placed on a long and formidable bear-skin. His coat, without collar, but richly laced and adorned with a profusion of buttons, dropped, almost like a surtout, to his heels. The sleeves hung like sacks on his arms; and ruffles of the finest lace swelled from beneath an enormous pair of embroidered cuffs, and almost concealed the hand, which held a telescope pointing in the direction of the object of conference. The pendulous flaps of his waistcoat, even more luxuriantly worked, reached so low on his breeches as very much to supersede, as far as appearance went, the use of that valuable article of dress; and a pair of boots, as stiff as if they had been turned out of the knarled oak, thrusting up their tops far above the knee, reposed in stirrups scarce able, notwithstanding the breadth of the leather and double irons, to support the great square toes and heavy armed heels which clanked and beat against the horse's side. A wig, of no ordinary dimensions, floated on his lordship's back and shoulders, and crisped and curled under a small but fiercely-cocked bat, surmounted with a gallant cockade, and fringed with an absolute hedge of feathers. On his breast he wore the badge of his nobility, and at his side the sword by which it had been won. He was speaking with that degree of affected merriment which we often see assumed at the moment of disappointment, being the most agreeable, and certainly the most polite mode of affording escape to such keenness and warmth as may not be serious enough to assume a graver form. His delivery, however, kept no pace with his vivacity, on account of an unfortunate hesitation of speech, creating a lively contrast to the earnestness of his manner and to the rapidity of his gesticulation.

"Near him was also mounted his aid-de-camp, Colonel Hamilton, in the plain uniform of the Royal Scots, the ample fringe of his broad white sash hanging almost to his knees. A few paces farther off stood Captain Andover of the foot-guards, somewhat a beau in his dress, and alternately busy brushing away the sparks of mud, (which, besides soiling the green lining of his coat, had bespattered his red breeches and stockings,) or plucking into fuller

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compass the red and green tufts that decorated his grena-
dier cap.
"General Grumbkow, although there is no intention of
disparaging his clothing in the matter of size and embellish-
ment, still presented a less finished appearance. His horse,
thrown almost entirely on its haunches, had perpetually
the aspect of an animal retreating from the pain created by
the ponderous lever of a massy bit, or as if preparing to
take a leap at which very serious repugnance was enter-
tained. The General sat with his person so far back, that
the stiffest curls of his wig, forming a series of spiral cues,
stuck on the cantle of the saddle. One of his hands, with
fingers spread as if intimating the perfect mastery he held
over the horse, alternately supported the bridle, or was
his boot. His coat was closely buckled at the neck; and a
pressed on the hilt of a strait sword reposing on the toe of
profusion of shirt-frill drooped in soiled abundance through
the yawning waistcoast, which gaped almost from top to
bottom, perhaps as much from the General's practice of de-
positing in his breast his snuff-box and handkerchief, as
from the sometimes difficult puzzle of persuading the innu-
merable buttons to slip into their intended receptacles.
His shoulders were studiously puckered, and the waist
drawn so tight as to cast the cloth into innumerable wrinkles
the origin of the present costume of his countrymen in arms.
over the haunches, exhibiting, although perhaps very faintly,
He was listening with much attention to the Earl, and
seemed to be mouthing the words in which he intended to
convey his opinion; but, when Orkney concluded, the Ge-
neral calling to his attendants, der teufelled them for not
having his pipe prepared, and craved his lordship to con-
tinue.

"Two Dutch officers, alighted from their horses, and leaning on their saddles, were, with unmeaning expression, gazing on his lordship, their great trunk-hose and tightlydrawn girdles presenting, in rich perfection, Hogarth's undulating line of beauty. The private soldiers were scattered about, some already half-asleep on the grass, others gathered in a groups, participating in a draught of such refreshing beverage as their canteens supplied; their stockings clogged with the mud through which they had toiled, and their long and dangling coats, and deeply returned cuffs and facings, tarnished and stained with their

service in the field.

"A party of English grenadiers, with breeches just turning over the kneepan, and shoes clinging round the ancle, had dofled their tapered, zany-looking, sugar-loaf caps, to relieve their heads from the oppressive weight; and, chuckling with delight at the anticipated pleasure awaiting them in the bubbling pipkin in which they had deposited the remnants of their stores, saw, with undisguised consternation, the fire which they had kindled kicked into the air, lest the smoke should betray their presence to the enemy; a feat which, from being performed by a foreign officer, gave the honest fellows the comfort of at least venting their indignation less mentally than an interference from a countryman would have rendered prudent. While, at a short distance, a knot of Sotchmen, huddled round one of the guides, listened with intense interest and beating hearts to the plaintive notes of an instrument common in that part of Flanders, and which, in some of its notes, bore a similarity to the music with which almost every association of happiness and of home in the breasts of the mountaineers was inseparably united."

There is an account, and an affecting passage it is, of Miriam's revisiting many years afterwards the lonely and deserted ruins of her ancestral seat. It is beautifuly written, and equal to the best part of the Fire Eater. The description of the victory of Malplaquet, is almost too technical to be generally interest

ing. The writer seems to understand military matters sufficiently well, but that is no reason why he should deluge us who do not understand them at all, with his accomplishments in this way. Repeating our objec- || tions to the loose and rambling developement of the story, and the too frequent carelessness of the style, we are obliged to say that none but a very clever person could have written the better portions of this volume.

A Tour in Germany, and some of the Southern Provinces of the Austrian Empire, in the Years 1820, 1821, 1822. London: Hurst, Robinson and Co. 2 vols. 1824.

(Continued from p. 245.)

jurious to the romance of the thing. The portrait of Gustavus Adolphus, the only ornament which Frederick admitted into his bed-room, has been allowed to remain. The apartment which was appropriated to Voltaire is the most vulgar of all. The walls are covered with flowers and garlands, coarsely carved in wood, and bedaubed with glaring colours. I know not who selected this style of ornament; but the crowd of wooden parrots, perched among the wooden chaplets, proves either the bad taste of the poet, or the satirical humour of the king. Some other apartments are splendid in their architecture and decorations: but there are more splendid things of the same kind in fifty other palaces. We do not visit Sans Souci because it is a palace, but because Frederick the Great lived in it.

The grounds are not extensive. In that part of them which lies immediately below the palace, and was the favourite resort of the monarch, all is rich, shady, and tranquil; you would believe yourself a thousand miles removed from the bustle of men. Even the French horns of the OUR former lengthened observations preclude us Jager Guards, swelling from the barracks below, instead of from making any remarks upon the notices of disturbing only sweetened the repose of the scene. Those Dresden, Leipsig, Hanover, and the smaller Duchies parts of the grounds again, which are thrown open indisof Northern Germany. They are written with the criminately to the public are merely shady, sandy promenades, commonly terminated by a small building, either an same acuteness, spirit, and freedom which mark the European oriental, or a modern antique. Frederick could preceding quotations, and will be read with equal not give his subjects and visitors much varied scenery, or pleasure. The political speculations respecting Hano-many picturesque glimpses; but he gave them a profusion ver, belong to a higher order of competition, and of pillars and pediments. He seems to have been fondly tied to every thing which contributed to his pleasures; and speak strongly in favour of the author's political ac- no great monarch's pleasures were ever more simple and quirements, and habits of reflection. innocent. His generals do not appear to have stood higher in his heart than his dogs. A number of the latter are buried in the grounds, and honoured with tomb-stones. Beside them lies the horse which bore him through many a hard-fought field in the Seven Years' War."

The second volume is principally occupied with Prussia, Silesia, Bohemia, and the Austrian dominions. From this our extracts will be few and disjointed. It is thus he describes Sans Sousi :

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"Sans Souci, bearing its name, like Wilhemshohe at Cassel, in bad taste. but gold letters, on its front, stands on an eminence close behind the town. It is a long low building, destitute of architectural parade, although adorned with a double circular portico, à beautiful object in itself, but much too magnificent for the main building. The prospect is confined; it has, however, as much of what is pleasant as could be found in this country. It takes in a large || portion of the Havel, spreading out its lakes among green fields and wooded eminences, and here and there diversified by a passing sail. Were it less pleasing than it really is, who would not gaze upon it with interest, when he reflected that Frederick loved to dwell upon its features, and sought in them the only repose which he allowed himself to enjoy from the dangers of the field and the labours of the cabinet? Even the bad humour into which a stranger is thrown by the mean and disgraceful, but privileged, extortions of the attendants, gives place to the respectful interest with which he lingers among the scenes that supplied the simple pleasures of, not only a great, but a wonderful man. "The apartments of the king himself are extremely simple. Like the rest of the palace, they are hung with very mediocre French pictures, which, it is to be hoped, for the sake of Frederick's taste, he took no pleasure in looking at. He had more fitting companions in some ancient busts, set up in a long narrow gallery, in which he used to walk, when the weather denied him this exercise out of doors. The library, a small circular room, contains his books as he left them. They are all French, but many of them are translations of the great productions of other countries. Frederick's bell, his inkstand and sand-box, his sofa and little table, still retain their place. The bed has been removed from the chamber where he died, and a writing-desk occupies the place of the old chair in which he breathed his last; trifling alterations, no doubt, but in

From the estimate of Vienna, a single extract, and we shall have done. It is not very lenient, but it is very just :

"There cannot be a more dissolute city,-one where female virtue is less prized, and, therefore less frequent. A total want of principle, the love of pleasure, and the love of finery are so universally diffused, that wives and daughters, in not only what we would call comfortable, but even affluent circumstances, do not shrink from increasing the means of their extravagance by forgetting their duty. They sacrifice themselves, not so much from inclination, as iron interest. You will probably find in Naples or Rome as many faithless wives, who are so from a temporary and variable liking, as in Vienna; but you will not find so many who throw away their honour from the love of gain. The advantage seems to be on the side of the Italian. Worthless as both are, even a passing liking is something less degrading than the mere infamous calculation of pounds, shillings, and ence, without even the excuse of poverty. The girls of the lower classes grow up to licentiousness; the rage for dress and luxury is no less strong among them than among their superiors; and though it certainly looks like a harsh judgment, it is not too much to say, as a general truth, that, from the time they are capable of feeling this love of show and easy living, they consider their person as the fund that is to supply the means of its gratification. It is not seduction; it is just a matter of sale: nor are mothers ashamed to be the brokers of their daughters. There is no want of purchasers.

"The quantity of licentiousness is commonly smallest in the middle class of a people. It is not so in Vienna, at least among the men. To hear the nonchalance with which a party of respectable merchants or shopkeepers speak of their amours, you would think them dissolute bachelors; yet they are husbands and fathers, and, provided all cir

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