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Louis XV., is endowed by nature with such resistless powers of "Fascination," both mental and physical, that he "charms the very birds from off the trees." Like a certain brilliant and conspicuous countryman of his in our own day and city, there is something so "taking" about him, that the tradesmen insist on his getting in their debt whether he will or no; the money lenders force him to borrow of them; the most ill-conditioned insist on doing him services; the lawyers are "too happy" to carry on his suits at their own cost; the women insist on marrying him; and even the restive horses, that will be ridden by nobody else, are as docile under his hand as a lady's hackney! At the outset of the story we find him penniless and friendless,-except that his old tutor is "fascinated" to run away from college with him, and become his chum in a miserable cinquième in Paris, rather than lose sight of him, or let him go into the world without a Mentor; and the first (involuntary) exertion of his power is to fascinate "five ells of amaranth-coloured Segovian cloth, and three ells of taffeta for the lining," into a new coat, at the hands of a poor tailor, out of pure inability on the part of the said tailor to resist seeing so fascinating a gentleman dressed like a gentleman;-and so on, till at last, on a great princess falling in love with and offering to marry him, he declines the honour till he has made himself in some sort worthy of it, by " fascinating" the three Aulic councillors, on whom the decision of a great lawsuit depends, to give it in his favour, against their honours, their consciences, and their interests! This latter portion of the story is so much superior, both in design and execution, to all the rest of it, that we are apt to think the early portions must be the result of an afterthought, with a view to extending the tale beyond its due limits; which is its only fault. The part in question, the scenes of which are laid in Germany, would make a capital subject for a comic drama, and we have little doubt they will be so employed. Each of the Aulic councillors is a character, diametrically different from all the rest, and each is impressed with the belief (of what is in fact true) that the gay and gallant young Marquis they have made up their minds respectively to nonsuit, is anything but what a marquis and a gentleman ought to be-in other words, that he in no particular resembles themselves. Such, however, is the versatility of his gifts and accomplishments, that by adopting for the nonce the respective characters and qualities of each, he gains his end with all. This part of the tale brings before us many lively, amusing, and characteristic scenes. We cannot, however, approve of the unhappy close to the story; though the writer has doubtless adopted it from the original source (the Memoirs of the Maréchal de Crequy), on which the tale is founded.

With this single exception, the tale is highly amusing; it is full to overflowing of incident, animation, and variety, and affords an excellent picture of the condition of French society in almost all its departments, about twenty years before the Revolution,-from the shopboard and little back-parlour of the jobbing tailor in the Rue St. Honoré, with his virago wife and his sentimental apprentice, to the gardens and court of Versailles, with all their gorgeous and glittering denizens. But the pictures of the social manners of the time which will still more amuse and interest the general reader, are those arising out of the "fascinating" hero's adventures with the three members of

the Aulic council; the jolly old hunting and woman-hating Baron of Henferester, the learned Doctor Aloysius Sphex, and the henpecked gourmand, Flacsinfingen. The whole of this portion of the tale is conceived and conducted in so dramatic a spirit, that it might be worked into a comic drama by a few hours' trouble, and be put upon the stage with a certainty of success. The picture of the Hall in the ancient Manor-house of a German baron of the old school, is drawn with singular truth and force, and is worthy of Cattermole's pencil: there is not a touch of anything modern or newfangled about it. The following description of the arrival of the baron at home after a long day's hunting, is full of spirit, and will convey a fair impression of the style in which this story is written.

The lord of Henferester was about fifty years of age, of colossal height, and Herculean strength. On entering the hall, he threw down his cap upon the dresser. His fair hair was cut short; while his beard, which he only shaved on council days, was so thick and abundant, that his face was nearly covered. His features, strongly defined and bronzed by the open air, were somewhat hard, but of a noble expression.

His old green vest, buttoned up to the chin, was dripping with wet. His leather breeches, black with age, and his heavy boots coming up to his thighs were cased with mud; while his girdle was garnished with horn-handled hunting-knives. Slung over his chest was his horn, and he held in his hand a hunting-whip and rifle. Having delivered up the last-mentioned articles to his major-domo, who hung them carefully up, he advanced to the fire with a dissatisfied look; distributed a few kicks of his boot to disperse the dogs, and sat down heavily in the old oak-chair, crying out to the hounds in an irritated voice, "Back, back there! you are only worthy to turn the spit yonder, instead of pursuing noble animals in the chase. Give in after five hours' run, because the boar's hole was a little too thorny? You are become precious delicate, forsooth! Even you, old beast Ralph!" cried he, lashing out a smart kick at a very fine hound.'

The major-domo, perceiving the ill-humour of his lord alluded to more successful days.

"I can understand his lordship's discontent," said he, "so little accustomed as he is to such ill-fortune, but-"

"Enough, enough!" cried his lordship. "Prithee, serve the venison. I want my supper, for I am as hungry as a wolf. The boar took us as far as the forest of Henterpressen."

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My lord must admit that the dogs were not so much in fault. But will not my lord be pleased to change his coat-he is so very wet ?"

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Change, quotha? Why, what the devil-master Selbitz, am I turned milksop?" cried the irritated sportsman. "Do you take me for a young lady or a Frenchman ?-do I ever change when I return from hunting ?-do my dogs change?-do my horses change?"

"No, certainly not, my lord. But your lordship's clothes smoke like a washing-tub."

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Well, well! That proves that the humidity is evaporating." "But, my lord-"

"Hold your tongue, sir!-Selbitz the assss-Selbitz, the chatterbox as you are-and give me a glass of kirschenwasser." Then, seeing the letter upon his plate, he added, "What the deuce is this, master Selbitz ?"

"A letter brought by express from the Count of Hasfeld," replied the major-domo.

To the devil with business to-night!" cried Henferester. "It is quite enough to go to Vienna twice a week," said his lordship, opening the letter, "without being troubled at home." He then read the following epistle :

"I beg leave to apprize you, my dear Baron, that the French Marquis Létorière will arrive at your house to-day, to solicit you respecting his lawsuit. I need not recall to your mind the almost formal promise you made me, to act with your two colleagues in furthering the interests of the Duke of Brandenbourg." "I have the honour &c. "J. T."

"What the devil can this Frenchman want here ?" exclaimed the irritable lord. 66 By the holy kings of Cologne! I never have a moment's quiet. Here is this Versailles fop coming to worry me like a boar in its hold. In my opinion, his suit is already lost-that is, half lost. What can he want now? Does he suppose I can feel interested about an effeminate fop, who embroiders and wears rouge and patches? But, pest take it! how to avoid the fellow? If he come, I must give him hospitality. Vienna is fifteen leagues from hence. How am I to send him back? To the devil, I say, with all lawyers and lawsuits! Should he come to-night he must sleep here, and where, pray? One might as well have a lying-in in the house as a French fop."

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The Baron stamped on the floor with rage, as he observed to his majordomo, A Frenchman will be here to-night-a Marquis-about some law business. I cannot let him return to Vienna in such weather as this. Where the deuce can we lodge him?—I dare say he has as many bandboxes as a woman!"

"Faith, my lord, I scarcely know, unless it be in the rat-garret," replied Selbitz.

"With all my soul-be it so!" cried his lordship, ironically. "And in order that he may have a favourable notion of the hospitality of my château, mind that there be silk curtains to the bed, pillars of eider-down, fine Holland sheets, perfumed candles in china candelabra, and let his bed be warmed with ashes of aloes-wood.-Do you hear, sir?"

"I do, my lord!" replied Selbitz, dishing up the venison, the pork and sauerkraut, and delighted with the jocularity of his master. "Be sure, my lord, I will fulfil your lordship's instructions. The straw of the mattress shall be shaken up,—the coverlid well beat,-all the cobwebs swept away, that the moonlight may not be obstructed; and finally, since he is so particular, his bed shall be warmed by the turnspit!"

Heuferester appeared vastly diverted by this facetious manner of describing the rat-garret; which in all respects resembled his own chamber, for he was completely indifferent to the common necessities of life.

"To table, to table!" cried his lordship, drawing his knife from his girdle. At that moment a postboy's horn was heard without. "It is perhaps this damned Marquis !" cried he.

bitz!

Run to meet the fellow-run!"

And, rising from his seat, the Baron observed,

"Here-Erhard !-Sel

"He must be possessed by the devil, to travel in such weather!

Bless his

soul! on the soft cushions of his travelling-carriage he is much better off than under my roof! Well, well! let us have a look at this pink of a man-the most effeminate of the effeminate court of France!"

And in spite of his disinclination, the Baron stepped out to welcome his newly-arrived guest.

This capital story occupies an entire third of the whole work. The other tales, which are six in number, are chiefly illustrative of the French manners and society of various periods, including the present, and are full of interest and variety. They are offered by the editor, as specimens of the most popular writers of France;" and they convey a very favourable impression of the light literature of our mercurial neighbours.

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THE WHISPERING GALLERY.

FOR a long time past the Editor has felt the want of some short mode of communication with his Correspondents. The inconvenience of troubling Mercury on every petty occasion, and the impossibility of personal interviews with so many individuals, and at such various distances, were sufficiently apparent; but the remedy was not so obvious. At last, after a casual visit to St. Paul's, the idea occurred of devoting a department of the Magazine-like the famous Gallery in the Cathedral, to the circulation of confidential gossip. In pursuance of this plan, the latter pages of the New Monthly have been specially appropriated to the purpose; and it is expected that a whisper uttered therein will reverberate quite loud enough for the deafest and most distant of our friends. In fact, many persons will hear from us by reading this portion aloud. Listeners must not, however, be surprised should some of its murmurs be unintelligible. Sounds, that to one ear may seem as unmeaning as the "Wulla-wulla-wulla" of Hook's skipper, may convey to another organ the most significant syllables. It must be remembered, also, that to different parties the same sentence may imply very opposite things. For example, the poetical line, "and rifle all the breathing spring," would only denote to an Englishman a gathering of flowers, but to a Kentuckian, the shooting some animal in its leap. Our allusions may be local or personal. What is as puzzling as a riddle at Chichester, may be as explicit as an oath at York—a hint as obscure to John Canoe as a nod to a blind horse, may be as clear as the sun at noonday, and no eclipse, to Davy Jones. But verb. sat.

To begin, our echoes cannot be better employed than in repeating a few words from Cornwall :

"As some person is now employing his time in writing letters to many noblemen and gentlemen, in my name, soliciting subscriptions, liberty of dedication, &c., to a supposed publication of mine, will you allow me the opportu nity of stating in your columns, that all such letters are Forgeries. "I am, &c.,

"Feb. 3, 1842."

"B. W. PROcter.

We cannot fairly interfere in the literary wager. Nor do we see how a large list of Subscribers can determine the popularity of an unpublished work. Many persons subscribe to books they never intend to read, and certainly would not relish or approve. Some striking examples of this evil practice are lying before us, and may be exhibited in our next number. A poem on the Thames ought to be written in Pool measure.

Is Emily, of Durham, herself or her brother?

To B.-We have not heard that the quaker uniform is hereafter to be drab turned up with Prussian blue. The royal compliment was to the Friend, not to the Society. In fact, in Prussia quakerism is practically discouraged by compelling every male subject to become a soldier.

W. H.-Had better consult some first-rate Latinist. Our own impression is that ora pro nobis, does not mean Hooray for us.”

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The communication from a Borough Magistrate" is on a subject too political for our pages. All we have learned, personally, from the interminable debates on Corn is, that no M. P. knows when to cut it.

THE

NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS ABROAD.

AN EXTRAVAGANZA.

BY THE EDITOR.

СНАР. ІХ.

I TAKE it for granted that no English traveller would willingly lay up -unless particularly inn-disposed at an Inn. Still less at a German one; and least of all at a Prussian public-house, in a rather private Prussian village. To be far from well, and far from well lodged-to be ill, and ill attended-to be poorly, and poorly fed-to be in a bad way, and a bad bed- But let us pull up with ideal reins, an imaginary nag, at such an outlandish Hostelrie, and take a peep at its 'Entertainment for Man and Horse."

Bur-r-r-r-r-rrrr!

The nag stops as if charmed-and as cool and comfortable as a cucumber-at least till it is peppered-for your German is so tender of his beast that he would hardly allow his greyhound to turn a hair

Now then, for a shout; and remember that in Kleinewinkel, it will serve just as well to cry" Boxkeeper!" as "Ostler!" but look, there is some one coming from the inn-door.

"Tis Katchen herself with her bare head, her bright blue gown, her scarlet apron and a huge rye-loaf under her left arm. Her right hand grasps a knife. How plump and pleasant she looks! and how kindly she smiles at every body, including the horse! But see-she stops, and shifts the position of the loaf. She presses it as if to sweeten its sourness-against her soft, palpitating bosom, the very hemisphere that holds her maiden heart. And now she begins to cut-or rather haggle -for the knife is blunt, and the bread is hard: but she works with good will, and still hugging the loaf closer and closer to her comely self, at last severs a liberal slice from the mass. Nor is she content to merely give it to her client, but holds it out with her own hand to be eaten, till the last morsel is taken from among her ruddy fingers by April.-VOL. LXIV. NO. CCLVI.

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