quacks, his Majesty ordered a fresh proclamation to go forth, stating that whoever undertook to effect the cure, should thenceforth, in case of failing to perform what he promised, be put to death, unless he paid down the sum of ten thousand francs. The good effect of this regulation was quickly perceived, in the diminution of pretenders to infallible cures, few caring to risk their fortunes or their lives, in case of their inability to pay, though they had before been so liberal of their reputation. When the tidings of Messer Filiberto's good fortune and favour at the French King's court reached Moncaliero, Donna Zilia, imagining that his continued silence must be solely owing to the vow he had taken, and the time being at length nearly expired, fancied it would be no very bad speculation to secure the ten thousand francs for herself. Not doubting but that his love remained still warm and constant, and that she really possessed the art of removing the dumbness at her pleasure, she resolved to lose no time in setting off directly for Paris, where she was introduced to the commissioners appointed to preside over Messer Filiberto's case. I am come, my lords,' she observed, 'hearing that a gentleman of the court has for some time past lost his speech, to restore to him that invaluable faculty, possessing for that purpose some secret remedies, which I trust will prove efficacious. In the course of a fortnight he will probably be one of the most eloquent men at court; and I am quite willing to run the risk of the penalty, if I perform not my engagement as required. There must, however, be no witness to my proceedings; the patient must be entrusted entirely to me. I should not like every pretender to obtain a knowledge of the secret I possess; it is one which will require the utmost art in its application.' Rejoiced to hear her speak with so much confidence on the subject, the commissioners immediately despatched a message to Messer Filiberto, informing him that a lady had just arrived from Piedmont, boasting that she could perform what the most learned of the faculty in France had failed to do, by restoring the dumb to speech. The answer to this was, an invitation to wait upon our hero at his own residence, when he recognised the cruel beauty who had imposed so severe a penance, and concluded at the same time that she had undertaken the journey not out of any affection for him, but with the most mercenary views. Reflecting on his long sufferings and unrequited affection, his love was suddenly converted into a strong desire of revenge: he therefore came to a determination of still playing the mute, and not deigning to exchange a single word with her, merely bowed to her politely at a distance. After some moments' silence, the lady, finding that he had no inclination to speak, inquired, in a gentle tone, whether he was at a loss to discover in whose company he was? He gave her to understand that he knew her perfectly well, but that he had not yet recovered his speech; motioning, at the same time, with his fingers towards his mouth. On this she informed him that she now absolved him from his vow, that she had travelled to Paris for that purpose, and that he might talk as much as he pleased. But the dumb lover,

only motioning his thanks, still continued as silent as before; until the lady, losing all patience, very freely expressed her disappointment and displeasure. Still it availed her nothing, and fearful of the consequences to herself, if he persisted in his unaccountable obstinacy, she had at length recourse to caresses and concessions, which, whatever advantage he chose to take of them, proved ultimately as fruitless to restore his eloquence, as every other means. The tears and prayers of the lady, to prevail upon him to speak, became now doubly clamorous; while she sorely repented her former cruelty and folly, which had brought her into the predicament of forfeiting either ten thousand francs or her life. She would immediately have been placed under a military guard, had it not been for the intercession of the dumb gentleman, who made signs that they should desist. The penalty, however, was to be enforced; but the lady, being of an excessively avaricious turn, resolved rather to die than to furnish the prescribed sum, and thus deprive her beloved boy of a portion of his inheritance. When reduced to this extremity, Messer Filiberto, believing that upon the whole he had sufficiently revenged himself, took compassion upon her sufferings, and hastened to obtain an audience of the King. He entreated as a special favour, that his Majesty would remit the fine, and grant liberty to her, as well as to some other debtors, which, in the utmost surprise at hearing the sound of his voice, the King promised to do. He then proceeded to inform his Majesty of the whole history of his attachment to the lady, and the strange results by which it had been attended to both parties, though fortunately all had ended well. Messer Filiberto then hastened to hold an audience with the lady, seriously proposing to give her a little good advice; and she was quite as much rejoiced as his Majesty, when she first heard him speak. You may recollect, madam,' he observed, that some time ago, when at Moncaliero, I expressed the most ardent and constant attachment to you; an attachment which I did not then think that time could have ever diminished. But your conduct in cheating me into the vow of silence, and your cruelty to me, as well before that time as since, have wrought a complete change in my sentiments towards you. I have acquired wealth and honours; I stand high in the favour of my monarch; and having, I think, taken ample revenge upon you, by the fears and trouble you have experienced, I have not only granted you your liberty and your life, but ordered you to be freely supplied with every convenience and facility for your return home. I need not advise you to conduct yourself in future with care and prudence; in all the economical virtues you are reputed to be unrivalled; but I would venture to hint, that from the example I have in this instance afforded you, you will be more cautious how you sport with the feelings of those who love you, as it is an old saying

that the wily are often taken in their own nets.' He then provided her with an honourable escort, and money to defray her expenses; while he himself, not long after, received the hand of a young beauty of the court, bestowed upon him by his royal master."

The biographical notices are brief, but comprise much informa tion; and of the translation we can speak in terms of unqualified commendation; in short, these volumes should be found on the shelves of all lovers of the light, but nevertheless, foundation order of literary architecture. The engravings are of a mixed character, several of them happily conceived, and others not so well drawn; but all prettily finished, in as far as the burin is concerned.-Lond. Lit. Gaz.

SELECTED FOR THE MUSEUM.

Memoir of the Life and Character of the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, with Specimens of his Poetry and Letters, and an Estimate of his Genius and Talents, compared with those of his great Contemporaries. By James Prior, Esq. London: Baldwin and Co. 1824.

MR. PRIOR's book contains many interesting particulars respecting Burke, not given by his other biographers; it exhibits much just sentiment and good feeling, and it displays sufficient evidence that much careful inquiry has been employed in its production. Of the diction we cannot speak very favourably: it is generally perspicuous and spirited, but it is too often inaccurate and faulty, and it sometimes makes attempts at elevation and effect which are by no means successful. Notwithstanding these and other drawbacks, the work is a sensible and a valuable one. If Mr. Prior have not accomplished all that the fame of Burke demanded, some excuse may be found for him in the difficulties which beset his undertaking. He could not have chosen one less capable of successful execution.

Perhaps the empire stands more deeply indebted to Burke, looking at what it has been preserved from, at what has been preserved to it, and at what it has obtained, than to any other individual-perhaps no other individual ever equalled him in great and extraordinary achievements, accomplished by the mere force of intellect-but no martial victories, no splendid series of ministerial labours, scarcely any of the things which generally give shape and perpetuity to the highest kind of fame, embody his transcendent powers and services to the gaze of the world. His mighty genius soared far above these, for the means of benefiting his country, and the most important of its triumphs, were too vast, complex, and exalted in their nature, to be judged of by the ordinary modes of definition and valuation. In consequence, much of the glory which belongs to him has been given to others. The nation annually heaps new honours on the tomb of Pitt, while that of Burke-of the man who smote, divided, and paralyzed a mighty revolutionary Opposition-crushed an almost irresistible multitude of revolutionary teachers-stayed the

frenzy of the community-converted apostacy and terror into impassioned fidelity and chivalrous daring-in a word, who formed the arena for Pitt, and created the host by which he conquered-is forgotten.

Nothing could well be more unnecessary than to add to the legitimate fame of Pitt the fame belonging to another; but, nevertheless, those who adopt his name and revere his memory, will not suffer any portion that has been assigned to him, to be taken away. In addition to this, those who call themselves his followers, have lately embraced principles and policy which clash greatly with those which Burke recommended in similar circumstances. Our other political parties have a direct interest in employing every effort to destroy Burke's reputation altogether. If he were a statesman and a patriot, Fox was a driveller and a demagogue—if his principles were truth and wisdom, the Whigs are the most blind and dishonoured body of men that the world ever contained. The Benthamites have equal cause with the Whigs to detest him. Though his ashes slumber in the tomb, his voice is still heard to confound them-his spirit still walks the earth to scatter their dogmas and schemes to the winds, and to hold them up to the derision of mankind.

Of course, a biographer, to do full justice to the fame of Burke, should be able to sketch, distinctly and vividly, the effects which his speeches and writings produced, both to his own country and to Europe-he should be able to draw the line between the triumphs of his hero and those of Pitt-he should be able to pourtray the mighty influence and prodigious errors, follies, and guilt, of Fox and the Whigs-he should be able to paint the tremendous and appalling array of enemies, difficulties, and sorrows, which Burke had to encounter when he gained the most glorious of his victories, and which would have crushed and destroyed any spirit but his own-and he should be able to cope with, not only the delusions, but the prejudices and the wickedness of parties. He should possess a mind equally dauntless and impartial-determined to be alike just and unsparing, and to deal as liberally in condemnation as panegyric-aware that, as it had espoused the cause of one whom almost all conspired to wrong, it could only do justice to him by treating every enemy with due severity.

We wish, not more for the sake of Burke than for the sake of the country, that his memory was held in due estimation. If a nation expect to possess great men, it must consecrate their ashes and preserve from stain their glory-if it expect to have wise rulers, it must teach its children to revere its departed sages. We think the writings of this great and wonderful man have lately lost no inconsiderable portion of their influence. Although they were so strikingly applicable to some of the leading topics of the last two sessions of Parliament, we could find but few traces of them in the discussions. Amidst the gigantic events which concluded the war, and the subsequent revolutionary convulsions of Europe, the late

Marquis of Londonderry-we name it to his eternal honourseemed to take Burke for his guide, but with his death the influence of Burke appeared to terminate. We regret this deeply. Setting aside other matters, we are convinced that Burke's theory for constructing and governing society-for creating and preserving general liberty and happiness-can never be shaken; and therefore we are convinced that every departure from it is a departure into

error.

Allowing as liberally as we please for the infirmities of mankind, there is something in this not a little extraordinary. The compositions of Burke are inimitable in literary beauty, and this, if they had possessed no other recommendation, ought to have obtained for them constant perusal and powerful influence. But, in addition, they treat of the highest interests of individuals and nations; they give the most profound and magnificent views of those things on which the tongue of the Englishman dwells for ever; the splendours of the diction only serve to pourtray the most astonishing triumphs of genius, knowledge, wisdom, and philosophy. Moreover, that portion of them which, when they were written, appeared to be but opinion and speculation, has been proved by time to have been sublime truth and unerring prophecy. Burke died the greatest of sages-a man gifted with even superhuman wisdom -and the grave has made him a wonderful prophet. One of the most striking peculiarities of his late works is-they form a chain of predictions, respecting some of the most momentous, novel, and complicated of human events, which have been accomplished to the letter. Finally, the history of Europe for the last seven years has been of a description to compel the nation to study the topics on which he wrote, and to drive it to the stores of instruction which he provided.

When those who boast so eternally of the increased knowledge and wisdom of the world, shall explain to our satisfaction why the writings of Burke, which treat of the form and regulations of society, are not in every man's hands-why they are not quoted and acted upon by our statesmen-why they are not incorporated with public opinion-why the nation does not make them its test in judging of revolutionists, revolutionary creeds, and revolutionsand why Fox is still worshipped, while the ashes of Burke slumber almost without notice, we will then cease to treat their boasts with derision.

We regret that our limits will not permit us to extract Mr. Prior's details and anecdotes respecting Burke's private character. They prove that he was one of the best, as well as one of the greatest, of men. The generous and ready assistance which he ever rendered to destitute genius whenever it appealed to him, ought to endear his name to every friend of literature and the arts. His munificent patronage of Barry is well known, and several of his admirable letters to the artist enrich Mr. Prior's work.