London.

I perceive, my dear Darnley, that the foreigner who is desirous of knowing the real character of this country must make a lengthened visit here. The inhabitants of the continent who come hither for only a few weeks see nothing but the surface, and go away with a thousand unfavourable impressions, which a little longer residence would have been sufficient to remove. The English are, in general, shy and reserved in their manners; and, even among the highest classes, the best and most amiable persons are only properly known when seen in the interior of their respective families. To contract such an intimacy with them as enables a stranger to view them in this manner is extremely difficult, for no visits I find are paid or received in an evening, and even before dinner "Not at home" is the answer given at nine doors out of ten at which one knocks. Nor are the crowded dinners and still more numerous assemblies, of which I have already had occasion to speak, at all calculated to afford opportunities for forming those ha bits of familiar intercourse, in which your countrymen appear to the greatest advantage.

The persons who are the most conspicuous in the British metropolis, (I mean the votaries of dissipation and notoriety who fill the annals of the daily newspapers) are by no means the most respectable members of the community; yet they are precisely the objects on whom all eyes are centered. Flattered, talked of, and followed, they are the leaders of all the principal entertainments of this great city; and thousands receive the law from them who are their superiors in morals, manners, and every amiable propensity. Is it then extraordinary that foreigners form their opinion of the English character on the specimens presented to them by those, who appear to be universally admired? Yet, certainly, it is impossible that they could take it from a less favourable model.

I am happy to find that my recommendations have been of some use to you at Paris, but, as I remarked in a former letter, you have amply repaid the obligation by procuring for me the entrée of several private families in this town, in whose domestic circles I have learnt to know and appreciate the many good qualities which distinguish the gentry of this country, and which are often hidden under a cold and forbidding exterior. I have also been received with cordial kindness by one or two individuals to whom it had, at different times, been my good fortune to show some trifling attentions in France. Among these I must particularly mention Mr. Gourville, descended from an ancient Norman family, his ancestors were followers of William the Conqueror, and he still inherits the estate which was then allotted to his progenitors. The income derived from this property is amply sufficient for all the elegancies as well as comforts of a liberal establishment. My friend being quite free both from vanity and ambition, though possessed of considerable talent, has neither adopted a profession-gone into parliament-nor bought, at the price of sacrificing all manly independence and generous feeling, the patronage of the great. By connection he is related to several of your noblest houses; his father was a distinguished general; and his wife, who, besides being a very pretty and very agreeable woman, shares the best properties of her husband, was the daughter of a baronet. This amiable couple occupy a spacious house in Portman-square, but the luxuries which abound there are reserved for the use of a small circle of intimate acquaintance whom the owners really love and esteem, and not for the "five hundred friends," with whom a leading belle loves to fill her mansion. The company I

meet at Mr. Gourville's table is select in the strictest sense of the word: it consists of all that is esti mable in character, pleasing in manner, and respectable from talent and

acquirements. Men of sense, statesmen, lawyers, literary men, and distinguished artists; while the female part of thesociety is no less irreproachable in morals than interesting from all the combined charms of mind and manner. Persons of rank are often found at this house, because persons of rank are often in England the patterns of every virtue; but it is evident from the style in which they are received, that they are welcome for their merits, and not for the sound of their titles, or the length of their pedigrees.

I cannot help introducing you to this family, because my happiest hours are passed at their hospitable board. There, at small and wellchosen parties, I hear politics discussed without rancour, books without pedantry, and the news of the day without scandal or ill-temper. Indeed, after spending several agree able days at this house, I am almost reconciled to one of your usages, which at first appeared to me most objectionable. I mean the retiring of the ladies after dinner. Here, though they follow that custom, they stay long enough to animate the conversation, and to give it that charm which is inseparable from their presence. The short interval which the gentlemen pass at table after their departure is devoted to politics, science, and other grave subjects less suited to the tastes of women. When we join them again at tea, those lighter and more elegant topics are resumed, which are best treated when a circle is formed of both sexes.

I have introduced the names of Mr. and Mrs. Gourville for two reasons; first, to do justice to them, and, through them, to a class of persons who form one of the best features of English society; and next, to mention an instance of the impertinence and contempt with which respectable individuals of this description are viewed and spoken of by those, who consider themselves as the leaders of the ton, when such individuals are too proud and too independent to range themselves under their banners. I accompanied these amiable friends of mine a few evenings since to the Opera-house, where they hire an annual box, not kept to be let and re-let as a subject of speculation, (a habit very comEur. Mag. Feb. 1823.

mon among great personages,) but, like their table, reserved for the use of their intimate acquaintance.

Well, while (after the performance) I was in the lobby with Mr. and Mrs. Gourville, waiting for the carriage, the Countess of - -(who has taken it into her head to be very civil to me), happened to pass. -On this occasion she returned my bow with unusual stiffness, and the night afterwards, when I met her at an assembly, she took me aside and said,-" M. Le Marquis, as I feel much interested about your suc cess in London, I hope you will not think me officious in hinting that which your ignorance of our habits may prevent your knowing, that if you wish to keep good company here, you must carefully avoid being seen with persons of a different description.-Tell me candidly, who were those people with whom I saw you last night at the Opera-house ?”'

"An English gentleman and lady of the most unexceptionable character."

"No doubt, and so are my butcher and his wife, yet not very fit companions for a French nobleman."

"But permit me to assure your Ladyship, that Mr. Gourville, on whose arm I leaned, is the representative of one of the oldest families in Europe."

"Not of so ancient a family," interrupted the Countess, "I am sure, as my Welch curate-yet I barely allow the reverend gentleman to sit down in my presence.

But what did you say was the name of the man-I am sure I never heard the name before."

"Gourville:and besides being extremely well born, he possesses a very ample estate."

." And so do half the haberdashers, grocers, and cheesemongers in the city."

He is likewise the son of a general."

"That proves nothing, M. Le Marquis.-His father may have risen from the ranks, like many of your French Marshals."

"And Mrs. Gourville is the daughter of a baronet."

"Who, perhaps, after selling plumbs and mangos in Cheapside for two-thirds of his life, became at last Lord Mayor, went up with

Ρ

an address, was dubbed a knight, and bye and bye, for some ministerial job, admitted into our very numerous list of hereditary Chevaliers. We have long ceased to rank baronets in this country much above those whom you call in France la ca

naille."

After a dialogue of this kind, in which her ladyship was always prepared with a repartee, I endeavoured to explain, that the friends of whom she spoke so contemptuously were no less respectable from birth, education and fortune, than estimable for the qualities of their minds and heart. Finding that I made no impression by such arguments, I next reminded the Countess of the many persons, inferior in every respect to Mr. and Mrs. Gourville, whom I had met at her house, among whom I specified Mrs. Latitat, the attorney's wife, and Miss Fussock, the daughter of a city drysalter, both of whom her ladyship had lately taken under her peculiar patronage.

Nonsense, nonsense," exclaimed the Countess," these are tolerated vulgars, whom we condescend to bear with, rather than to admit into our circles, on condition of certain accommodations which they afford us. We go to their splendid mansions precisely as we go to Almack's; and as we make it an indispensable consideration that nobody should be admitted at either without our special permission, the donors of the entertainment form the only objectionable people in their parties. And if in return for galas, to which we ask the company and the expenses of which come out of their pockets, we deign to ask these good folks once or twice a year to one of our sweeps, they think themselves too much honour ed. But M. Le Marquis, it is useless to have any discussion on a subject, which my long experience in these matters enables me to under

stand much better than you. Let me tell you that there is a certain set which governs every thing in this town; and as you Catholics say there is no safety out of the pale of mother church, so, in London, there is no fashion out of that circle. Into this favoured set I was labouring to get you properly initiated; but the attempt will be fruitless if you will keep company

with unorthodox quizzes. In short you must belong to us, and be every thing, or renounce le grand monde and become non-presentable.'

So saying, her ladyship gave her arm to a dandy who was passing by, and, leaving me to my meditations, shook her fan, and tripped away.

It seems to me that this strange distinction certainly exists in the society of London, and there is no person so low in birth, education or character, but possessed of wealth, and disposed to lavish it in purchasing the patronage of such a lady as she whom I have just described, who may not gain admittance into the highest circles, from which the most honourable, the most virtuous, and the most enlightened individuals are often excluded, if they disdain to use such base means of conciliating the favour of the great.

The undefined line, which is thus attempted to be drawn between this certain set (consisting of the most vicious and most notorious of the nobility followed by a servile race of humble flatterers) and the rest of the gentlemen and ladies of England, is certainly a much greater absurdity than that, which the pride of ancestry has established on the Continent.

To require a pedigree of sixteen. untarnished quarters, as a qualification for being a member of good company, is sufficiently ridiculous I confess; yet, in this free country, to insist that no person shall be considered as worthy of being visited, however respectable by birth, fortune, or education, unless a member of this certain set, is a still more striking instance of human folly and inconsistency. It is stripping your king of the prerogative of conferring honours, and bestowing it on a little self-constituted oligarchy, formed of every thing the most vicious, the most indecent, and the most contemptible in the British capital. I shall resume this subject again, but in the mean time I must say, that, when I leave England, I shall feel prouder at having made one such acquaintance as Mr. Gourville's, than at having my name placed at the top of the most finished list of this certain set. Farewell,

DE VERMONT.

ONE of the earliest impressions we receive in infancy, and fondly cherish during childhood, which is only slightly weakened on the approach of manhood, when intellectual light begins to dawn on our mind, and which the broad sunshine of cultivated reason is not sufficient always completely to eradicate, is the belief in spectres or apparitions. A notion so universal, and a feeling so general, so connate we may say with human existence, may be supposed to have a foundation in some natural principle implanted in the human mind, common to the uncultivated individual of savage life, and to the votary of refined education in the most polished society; to the clown and to the philosopher; for notwithstanding the boasted superiority of the latter, all his learning only enables him to challenge individual facts, rather than to deny the principle; and although, during his hours of study, and in his eager researches into causes and effects, he easily satisfies himself that he is able to demonstrate the absurdity of the opinion, yet he feels, in some moments of corporeal debility, or mental dejection, if not a thorough conviction, at least a transient persuasion, that the dread he has been accustomed to ridicule is more deeply rooted in the mind than the ignorance or superstition itself which gave it birth. A fondness for the marvellous and extraordinary, só prevalent in all ages and among all classes of mankind, has, no doubt, led to much exaggeration in the narrations of real or supposed supernatural appearances by those who have witnessed them, and the want of sufficient self-possession and calm collectedness has also been the source of much self-delusion in those who had neither desire to impose on others, nor interest in doing so: yet, making every allowance for these circumstances, it is hardly possible to deny that, on some occasions at least, the forms of persons already dead have been seen, and

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their voices heard, and that visions of unknown beings have been ma nifested to certain individuals. admission of this fact does not surely pledge us to believe every tale of wonder and alarm, invented frequently by knavish imposture and propagated by ignorant credulity. Our business is rather to investigate the source of this incorporeal communication, and to attempt to discover by what known principle or faculty implanted in our mind, we become conscious of such spiritual agency.

I am led to this train of investigation in consequence of perusing a little treatise published some time ago by the late ingenious Dr. Ferriar, of Manchester; who, not venturing to deny the fact of spectral appearances, has attempted to explain their occurrence, by invariably ascribing them to the existence of some degree of hallucination in the mind of the person thus impressed. I much doubt, however, the validity of this explanation; and shall offer a few considerations, which appear to me subversive of the theory brought forward by the learned author, however unable I may be to suggest one strictly accordant with the facts. The overturning a false hypothesis is one step towards the discovery of a sound theory, although, from the want of sufficient data, the time may not yet have arrived in which we are able to construct one totally free from every objection. I mean in the present paper to confine myself to those instances of spectral appearances recited by Dr. Ferriar, as being those which, in his opinion, were capable of a satisfactory explanation on his own principles; other instances, no doubt, there are equally well authenticated, to which, perhaps, the Doctor might have found more difficulty in applying his hypothesis, and to which it might be necessary to refer, in offering another and different explanation; but I judge it best at first to rest on the authenticity already admitted by

the Doctor, the extent of which admission may be judged of from the following quotation from his book:"I have thus presented to the reader those facts, which have afforded to my own mind a satisfactory explanation of such relations of spectral appearances as cannot be refused credit without removing all the limits and supports of human testimony. To disqualify the senses, or the veracity of those who witness unusual appearances is the utmost tyranny of prejudice. I conceive that the unaffected accounts of spectral visions should engage the attention of the philosopher as well as of the physician. Instead of regarding these stories with the horror of the vulgar, or the disdain of the sceptic, we should examine them accurately, and should ascertain their exact relation to the state of the brain and of the external

senses.'

Dr. Ferriar, taking it for granted that all spectral appearances are illusory and not real, rests the explanation of them on two principles; either they arise from the renewal of external impressions, modified by certain circumstances of time and place; or they are to be attributed to a morbid state of the brain, capable of producing spectral impressions without any external prototypes. The first principle only, I conceive, can become the subject of discussion; for this morbid state of the brain here spoken of is a mere gratuitous assumption, never hitherto demonstrated, nor capable of demonstration, but solely inferred to exist, because the spectral appearances can be no otherwise accounted

more

for; a petitio principii, leading to the monstrous conclusion, that all evidence of the senses, or conviction of the mind, in any other person, which contradicts our own narrow experience, or exceeds the limits of our contracted belief, is a demonstration of a disordered intellect or diseased brain. Until this morbid state of the brain is proved to exist, otherwise than by negative inference as abovementioned, I am not constrained to admit its power of producing the spectral appearances attributed to it, nor shall I be so unphilosophical as to resort to

the temporary and transient agency of a peculiar condition of the brain, which no other action or circumstance in the life of the individual has before or since given the least indication of. Confining myself, therefore, to the consideration of the first principle adopted by Dr. Ferriar, I shall apply it to the examination of one or two of the examples related by the Doctor; but I shall first collect a summary of his opinions on the general question.

"It is a well known law of the human economy, that the impressions produced on some of the external senses, especially on the eye, are more durable than the application of the impressing cause. The effect of looking at the sun, in producing the impression of a luminous globe for some time after the eye has been withdrawn from the object, is familiar to every one. In young persons, the effects resulting from this permanence of impression are extremely curious. I remember, that, about the age of fourteen, it was a source of great amusement to myself. If I had been viewing any interesting object in the course of the day, such as a romantic ruin, a fine seat, or a review of a body of troops, as soon as evening came on, if I had occasion to go into a dark room, the whole scene was brought before my eyes, with a brilliancy equal to what it had possessed in day-light, and remained visible for several minutes. I have no doubt, that dismal and frightful images have been presented in the same manner to young persons, after scenes of domestic affliction or public horror.

"From recalling images by an art of memory the transition is direct to beholding spectral objects, which have been floating in the imagination. Yet, even in the most frantic assemblage of this nature, no novelty appears. The spectre may be larger or smaller; it may be compounded of the parts of different animals; but it is always framed from the recollection of familiar though discordant images. The result of all these inquiries has been, that recollected images only are presented to the persons labouring under delusions of this nature.”

The simple renewal of the im