pretty graces that are the soul of the familiar dialogue of the table. Not a single sally, not one vivid touch, not one flash of gaiety that could awaken wit. Restless, troubled as soon as she saw the scene and the dialogue languish, she sought the cause of it in our eyes. Sometimes, even, she had the sincerity to complain of it to me. "How can it be otherwise, madame," used I to say to her, "wit is not always at our command, nor are we always in a humour to be engaging. M. Necker himself is, perhaps not every day amusing."

With his matrimonial connection, Marmontel adopted a stricter degree of morality; which, indeed, nothing is so likely to produce as the intimate society of an amiable woman:-he mentions this circumstance, on the subject of Rousseau's specious but profligate romance of Heloise,, and illustrates it by some well founded and striking remarks. It is evident, however, that he felt a rooted dislike to Rousseau, whom he holds up to reproach on every occasion.

Marmontel succeeded D'Alembert as secretary to the French Academy, and preserved this place till the Revolution. The character of Thomas, who was early snatched from the literary world, is delineated with great force and eloquence, in speaking of his new associates in that body.

Towards the close of the third volume, the author interrupts the course of his narration, or rather abandons the events which relate immediately to himself, to give an abridged view of the French Revolution; and here, we confess, ends our relish for the work. Although Marmontel's sketch of the events is spirited and elegant, yet, as it possesses no claims no novelty, and is more cursory than other views of the same subject, we have not found it very interesting. It is indeed painful to revert to this topic, on which we have already supped full with horrors, and which has disappointed the hopes of the best friends of liberty and humanity.-Some passages, however, occur in this detail, which deserve particular attention: such is the dialogue between Marmontel and Chamfort; which shews the determination of Mirabeau and his party completely to subvert the established order of things. The passage is too long for our quotation, but we recommend it to every reader. The events which followed prove this melancholy truth, that in times in which the popular mind is agitated, the maddest views become most successful, and wisdom confers neither credit nor safety.

We here terminate our review of this very amusing and instructive book; which to the merit of truth adds all the graces and attractions of a work of fancy. To adapt it for general reading, indeed, some passages ought to be omitted:

Decipit

Decipit exemplar vitiis imitabile:

but the philosopher, as well as the man of the world, may draw the most important lessons from its perusal.

Marmontel died at his little cottage at Abbeville, on the 31st December 1799, of an apoplectic fit.

A

ART. IV. An Excursion to the Highlands of Scotland, and the English Lakes, with Recollections, Descriptions, and Keferences to Historical Facts. 8vo. pp. 300. 9s. Boards. Mawman. 1805. CCORDING to this tourist and his travelling companion, (W. Salte, Esq. one of the best legacies which man can bequeath to posterity, is a book enlivened with innocent. merriment, or stored with information of solid and extensive utility. Under this description we cannot exactly class the present volume, notwithstanding its recollections, descriptions, and references: but we must allow, that it possesses the merits of fine paper and typography; and that it is illustrated and embellished by a distinct outline of the route, and by views of Inverary, Loch-Lomond, and Patterdale. We may add, that the itinerary is sufficiently comprehensive, as it includes Huntingdon, Stamford, Doncaster, York, Harrowgate, Durham, Sunderland, Newcastle, Alnwick, Berwick, Dunbar, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Inverary, Loch Lomond, Hamilton, Lanark, Carlisle, the lakes of Cumberland and Westmorland, Kendal, Lancaster, Liverpool, Chester, Nantwich, Birmingham, Warwick, Woburn, St. Alban's, &c. The author, who, we learn from the dedication, is Mr. Mawman, the publisher of the work, manifests a disposition to enjoy emancipation from the bustle and confinement of the capital, and is usually pleased; except when the deficient chaussure of the Scottish females, or a disregard to cleanliness, extorts from his pen the language of pity or of censure. His style is rather too much interlarded with epithets, and occasionally borders on inflation. His sentiments, though rarely profound, or peculiarly ingenious, are consonant to our notions of a liberal and well-trained mind. Yet we perceive few approaches to genuine wit and sprightliness, or to information which can aspire to the character of solid and extensive utility.' Mr. Mawman's pretensions, indeed, are much more limited; for he avows, in the dedication, that the principal object of the publication is attained by expressing his value for Mr. Salte's friendship, and the respect which he feels for his character. The reader is likewise admonished that, if he tires of the book, he may let it alone: but, if he has already paid for it, this is no saving consolation.

Al

It happens unfortunately for the attractiveness of this performance, that the same ground has of late been repeatedly described, and that the same remarks have been frequently presented to the public with more or less felicity of manner. though, however, we cannot afford to retrace such a beaten track, we are glad to point to a few passages which deserve to be noticed on the score of novelty, or of interest. Such is the anecdote relative to the late Marquis of Exeter: the principal circumstances of which we have long known to be true, but which have not been generally made public:

There are some circumstances in the life of the late noble possessour of Burleigh, which deserve commemoration. In his youth, while Mr. Cecil (his uncle being then Earl of Exeter) he married a lady of very large fortune. In a few years, having suffered two of the deepest wounds which the severity of fortune can inflict, the loss of his property by gaming, and of his wife by divorce, he determined to abandon the fashionable world, and retired under the name of Jones to a village in Shropshire. There he at first occupied a lodging, but soon built a small cottage; and continued for some years in such profound obscurity, that hardly a trace of him could be discovered by his friends: while the inhabitants of the village formed the wildest conjectures concerning the solitary stranger. His agree. able manners, however, soon rendered him an acceptable neighbour. One evening, at the table of the rector of the parish, he displayed so much knowledge of the world and such a degree of classical information, that his host told him, his education and manners were too conspicuously superior to those of the character which he assumed (viz. that of a servant who had gained a small independence in the family of a nobleman,) not to excite considerable doubts, both of the name which he bore and the account which he gave of himself. This remark induced Mr. Cecil, after the strictest injunction of secrecy, to disclose his real history.

• Amongst the farmers, whom he occasionally visited, was one of the name of Hoggins. This person had a daughter about eighteen years of age, so beautiful and amiable, that Mr. Cecil made her an offer of his hand. She referred him to her father, who, on account of the mystery involving his character, objected to the match. To this he replied, that the offer was much more advantageous than either the father or the daughter could reasonably expect. The farmer then consulted the clergyman, who told him he was not at liberty to give im the desired information: but he probably expressed himself upon the occasion, so as to convince the inquirer, that he ought not to withhold his consent; for the marriage was soon after solemnized (in the year 1791) and Mr. and Mrs. Jones retired to their cottage.

Lord Exeter being at the point of death, the steward was dispatched in search of the heir, whom he found at Bolas with a wife and two children. Mr. Cecil, having contrived still to remain unknown, proposed to his lady a journey to Stamford in the stage-coach. Before their arrival, the uncle was no more. To Burleigh they were conveyed in a chaise; and, as they proceeded through the park, Mr.

Cecil (now Earl of Exeter) repeatedly asked his fair companion, how she liked the grounds and the situation of the mansion: he then proposed, that they should "see the house;" and, while the cottager was gazing with astonishment at the novel scene of so much magnificence, told her that these objects of her admiration, together with many which he would afterwards shew her, were her own, and that she was the Countess of Exeter. The sudden communication of this unexpected grandeur was too powerful for her to sustain, and she was carried motionless into her apartment.

The remark, however, that great and sudden elevations seldom contribute much to happiness, was here fully exemplified. Admired for her beauty and early attainment of elegant manners, beloved for her humility and amiable conduct, amidst those scenes of splendour Lady Exeter appeared unhappy. Her perpetual solicitude to acquire those accomplishments, which she thought requisite for her new station, probably preyed upon her spirits and accelerated her death. She died in the bloom of life (at the age of 24) in January, 1797, leaving two sons and a daughter, the present Marquis, Lord Thomas, and Lady Sophia Cecil.'

The mountainous district, which is indented by the GareLoch, is thus depicted:

In this wild romantic scenery, the eye wanders in vain to discover a solitary cottage, or even a spot of cultivated earth; and till our arrival at the inn of Arroquhar, nothing was to be seen but a few mean huts, here and there a half-naked human being, and at intervals a boat on the lake with a fisherman and his boy.

A drizzling rain gave a thick darkness to the natural dinginess of the lake, the effect of which was still farther augmented by the seaweed that clung to the shores and rocks, and rode on the surface of the mournfully dashing waves; and by the lowering clouds which enveloped in obscurity the tops of the hills, and threw a sublime and awful majesty over this dreary region. The sides of the lake stretched along without the intervention of trees, or the relief of any vegetation upon its banks; and a solitary boat slowly moving across appeared to us almost as passing

"the melancholy flood,

With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Into the kingdom of perpetual night."

Near the head of the lake, through a scene made up of mountain, water, and sky, a yawning chasm opens into Glen-croe, guarded on each side by two black and rugged hills. Had Virgil seen this horrid gap, he could not have given a more appropriate description of

* Improperly called Loch-Gare in the text. This last-mentioned is an inlet of Loch Fyne. We also observe Spira for Shira, and Torbet for Tarbet. In most instances, however, Mr. M.'s topographical nomenclature is sufficiently correct.

it, than in the words which describe the entrance into the realms of Pluto:

"Spelunca alta fuit, vastoque immanis hiatu,

Scrupea, tuta lacu nigro."

It is hardly possible to cast more gloom upon these dreary scenes; it can only be heightened by a vivid imagination painting the horrours of winter, and adding the fictitious description of this country by Procopius, as translated by Mr. Gibbon.'

The writer's notices of the character of the Highlanders, and his commiseration of their hardships, are alike creditable to the qualities of his head and of his heart; though not original, they are founded in fact, and should be frequently recalled to every lover of his country. We shall only venture to hint that the engrossing of farms will probably be found, on mature examination, to be the necessary and beneficial consequence of increasing population in the low country, and of the general prosperity of our island. As our northern mountains are certainly unfit for the purposes of tillage, the community can have no reason for murmuring at their gradual conversion into sheep-walks and grazing districts. A greater extent of productive soil may thus be allotted to the culture of grain; while the possessors of highland estates are enabled to improve their circumstances, and a hardy but lazy and indigent set of men are removed to scenes of activity and comfort.

The ascent of Honistar, near Borrowdale, is detailed with considerable effect: but we must content ourselves with selecting a single circumstance:

Here our guide pointed out to us tracks down the declivity opposite to Honistar, which are made by a man bringing slate from the top of the mountain into the vale below. This hardy and industrious creature, having attained the summit of a mountain hundreds of feet high, fastens together a large quantity of the slate; and placing it behind him, to preserve it from being shattered to pieces by an unpro.. tected descent, slides down the precipice with his burthen pressing him forward; and thus, like Sisyphus, incurs the daily risk of being crushed to death, with the additional horror of a yawning abyss before his eyes.'

The commencing and the concluding paragraphs of this volume are rather too much elevated: but the whole may agreeably beguile a few vacant hours.

ART.