course, began to grow very uneasy; and soon discovered that he had formed another attachment to a person whom he had found at the Crown Inn, by chance, at Reading; left there for debt by a gay colonel, whose mistress she was; till, tired by her extravagance, he had left her and her charms in pledge to pay her reckoning.

"Consideration for an excellent family prevents her being named here; but originally she had run away with a worthy man, and married him. She soon left him for a gay captain, who, disgusted with her profuseness, deserted her, and she came upon the town. Her many admirers soon forsook her, when Lord Craven unfortunately became acquainted with her. He took excursions with her, and she drank at table with him, and then gained an ascendancy over him-a melancholy proof that they who never read nor reflect are always at the mercy of those who will flatter the whim of the

moment.

"This connexion necessarily prevented me from seeing much of my husband, and he appeared not so happy or amused at the sight of his children as usual: all doubts were, however, removed, had there been any; when one day Lord Macartney came to me and entreated me to prevent Lord Craven from travelling in one of my coaches, with a woman who called herself Lady Craven, and conducted herself at inns in such a manner as to reflect upon and tarnish my character: And,' added Lord Macartney, if Lord Berkeley knows this, he will certainly call Lord Craven out.' Lord Macartney had passed through Dunchurch, where Lord Craven and the lady had slept.

"When Lord Craven arrived in London, in Charles-street, after he had seen me and the children, I sent them out of the room, and told him that I had a favour to ask of him, which was, that he would not permit his mistress to call herself Lady Craven. He looked much confused, rose from where he was sitting, and walked about the room some time. He then asked how long it was that I had known that he had a mistress? To this I replied, Above a twelvemonth.' He then took some more walks across the room; when, suddenly stopping, and clasping his hands together, he threw his eyes up to heaven and exclaimed, By G-, you are the best-tempered creature in the world; for I have never suspected that you knew this! I then told him that he must remember the spotless young creature he had married, and who had borne him seven children; and that there was one thing I must insist on, which was, that if he continued to live with that woman, I would order a bed in the next room to his; for her conduct was such that my health might suffer. He said that she was a very good sort of woman, and asked, rather peremptorily, who had informed me otherwise? I then told him fairly, that I had obtained an interview with the lady's husband, who had acquainted me exactly with the character of the person with whom he had formed a connexion, and that the looseness of her conduct was such, that it was only to be equalled by her extravagance; and that he had concluded all his account of her by pitying my unfortunate situation.

"Lord Craven began to feel indignant, and his appearance indicated resentment; but I continued to entreat him to consider his children, and seriously to reflect on the fatal consequences of his conduct.

"In all probability, when he left me, he returned to the lady, and informed her of all that had passed, as she soon after took him over to the Continent, intending, most likely, to keep him out of the way of his wife, by quitting England. His stay there, however, was but of short duration, as he could speak no other language but English; and his patience being exhausted, he returned at the end of a six weeks' excursion.

"I could never persuade his Lordship, that, although he had made a will entailing his property on his three sons, he might spend it all before he died. At the time that my second son, Berkeley Craven, was born, Lord Craven made his will; at which time Lord Berkeley declared that he should never marry: and, as his brother was surrounded by dangers in his profession as a naval officer, he was determined that Lady Granard's children should never

inherit one farthing of the Berkeley property. My second son was his lordship's heir; and it was on that declaration that Lord Craven made his will, making my jointure 3000l. a-year, and giving me Benham and the house in Charles-street for my life, which subsequently he took away from me: and Lord Berkeley, notwithstanding his resolution, married.

"When Keppel Craven was about three years old, just before the Christmas holidays, which Lord Craven always spent with his wife, children, and friends, at one of his beautiful seats, his lordship one day sent for me into his dressingroom, and, with much embarrassment, said, 'I am going to London; I shall not pass the Christmas here; and when I go, I shall never see your face again. I named to him the people I expected to come, and represented to him how extraordinary it would appear to some of them if he were absent; but he said that he was determined never to see me more. To this I answered, That is, to part with me?' He replied, 'Yes.' I then proceeded as far as the door, and, turning round, said, with the greatest calmness I could collect, The parting of a husband and wife, who have lived together for thirteen years, and have had seven children, and the fortunes of those children at the mercy of a father misled, is a thing of too great consequence to those children for me not to take the best advice upon such an event;' and I retired to my own sitting-room."

It was this unhappy circumstance which gave birth to the malignant gossip, of which, in her after-life, she became the victim. In the dedication of her letters from Constantinople, published in 1789, she speaks of a Birmingham coin of herself, which had been made to pass in most of the inns in France, Switzerland, and England, for the wife of her husband. Her arms and coronet were used to support the deception; and thus, in the person of another, she was liable to be unworthily estimated.

Soon after the separation from Lord Craven, our authoress made the tour of the Continent; and has qualified herself to lay before the public a delightful stock of anecdotes, private memoirs, scandal, &c. &c. connected with the foreign courts. At Vienna, she was, of course, introduced to the Emperor, who immediately fell in love with her. She hints at this circumstance with great naiveté :-

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"When Prince Kaunitz delivered the Emperor's message to me, and added to it, The Emperor says, he never saw any woman with the modest and dignified deportment of Lady Craven,' I immediately replied that it was not in my power to stay; and I set off in ten days to perform the extraordinary journey to St. Petersburgh, where the Empress of Russia, and, by her orders, all who commanded under her authority, treated me with the most unexampled attention.

"The Emperor had no wife, and the opinion which he had formed of me, and which was repeated over all Germany, terrified me; and, fearful lest injurious reports should be spread of me, which was what I could not bear,-at the risk of being thought ungrateful to the Emperor, I fled like a frightened bird from a net.'

The following account of the precautions taken by the Polish mothers to ensure the chaste behaviour of their daughters, is capital:

"The Polish ladies are very vigilant over the conduct of their daughters, and intrigues are not so easily carried on here as in England; and in some districts, (which is perfectly ridiculous!) they are forced to wear little bells, both before and behind, in order to proclaim where they are and what they are doing."

An edifying contrast to which is furnished by her description of the Turkish ladies::

"The women, who were very numerous, were like walking mummies. A large loose robe of dark green cloth covered them from the neck to the ground; over that was a large piece of muslin, which wrapped the shoulders and arms, and another which went over the head and eyes. All these coverings confound the shape and air so much, that any rank may be concealed under them. I never saw a country where the women may enjoy so much freedom and liberty as here, free from all reproach. A Turkish husband who sees a pair of slippers at the door of his harem, must not enter: his respect for the sex prevents him from intruding when a stranger is there on a visit : how easy, then, it is for men to pass and visit as women!”

In the course of her travels, Lady Craven becomes acquainted with the Margrave and Margravine of Anspach, at whose court she resided, by the advice of her mother, for some time. Her history of the proceedings and intrigues (political and otherwise) of this place is diverting in the extreme. Mademoiselle Clairon, the celebrated French actress, was the Margrave's mistress; her ascendancy was woefully shaken by the advent of Lady Craven; and her airs, graces, and expostulatory epistles, are detailed with considerable humour. Clairon was thorough French in every thing. She could reject one lover, or indulge another, with the same imperturbable ceremony. Every thing was to be done by her strictly according to "les règles." A mysterious ghost story is also told about this lady, which cannot fail to be highly gratifying to the lovers of the marvellous.

On the death of Lord Craven, and of the first Margravine of Anspach, Lady Craven and the Margrave were married. The celebration of the wedding took place at Lisbon, in the presence of one hundred persons, and attended by all the English naval officers who were stationed on the spot. This marriage was a happy one. The husband and wife were devoted to each other: he appreciated her many excellencies, and she, with unwearied assiduity, exerted all her accomplishments to delight and soothe every hour of his existence. She read and sang to him, travelled with him, humoured his eccentricities, composed plays and acted in them; and was his enchantress alike in all!

The second volume of the Margravine's memoirs opens with a highly curious picture of Berlin, at the time of Frederick the Great; of whom the authoress gives a spirited sketch, including many original anecdotes. There is also an explanation of his conduct to Baron Trenck, and a very lively account of the philosophers and illuminati, who, in those days, made the city of Berlin their place of refuge. Among this body of persons, we are made, by the descriptions of the Margravine, intimately acquainted with Rosenfeld, Bardt, Eberhard, Edelmann, and others; the protected freedom of whose proceedings at this time, was without parallel in any age or country. This part of the memoirs is, therefore, rich beyond measure, in curious anecdotal matter. Of Voltaire, also, and of his singular habits, several stories are told, the greater part of them quite new.

It is impossible, in the review of a work which consists of two octavo volumes of curious reminiscences, to give the reader a complete abstract of its contents. All we can do, in our limits, is to furnish a specimen or two; and, under this impression, we must be brief in noticing the second volume. The following is a pleasant anecdote of Dr. Johnson:

"One day, in a tête-à-tête, I asked him why he chose to do me the singular favour of sitting so often and taking his tea with me. I, who am an ignorant woman,' I said, and who, if I have any share of natural wit or sense, am so much afraid of you that my language and thoughts are locked up or fade away when I am about to speak to you.' He laughed very much at first, and then said, An ignorant woman! the little I have perceived in your conversation pleases me ;-and then, with a serious and almost religious emphasis, he added, I do like you! And for what?' I said. He put his large hand upon my arm, and with an expression I shall never forget, he pressed it, and said, Because you are a good mother.' Heaven is my witness, I was more delighted at his saying this, than if he had praised me for my wit or manners, or any gift he might have perceived in me."

Of Bonaparte and his first wife Josephine, our authoress tells some interesting stories; one of which, connected with the murder of the Duke d'Enghien, we cannot refrain from extracting:—

"The stigma which has been attached to the conduct of Napoleon, with regard to the murder of the Duke d'Enghien, is entirely without foundation. The unfortunate duke was certainly condemned to die by the Emperor, but he wished to save his life, and have the credit of the pardon. He wrote the mandate to that effect, but the letter was intercepted by Talleyrand, and the unhappy duke fell a sacrifice. When the Emperor heard the intelligence, he was overwhelmed with grief; and so great was his despair, that he attempted to destroy himself. Josephine was obliged to have every instrument which could be used for such a purpose concealed from him, and his sword and pistols were removed from his sight. Her care and attentions to him were unremitting; she never left him, and consoled him by every means in her power. She had him brought to St. Cloud; where he remained for fifteen days a prey to his feelings and distress. Her influence over him was unbounded, and her affection soothed him into calmness. On his return to Paris, he went to the Opera and theatres; and no sooner had he presented himself, than he was hailed with enthusiasm. He had dreaded to appear again in public, as he imagined he should be considered as the murderer of the duke; but he had a soul above such a crime, and the prince was sacrificed by the intrigues of his ministers."

Of the life of the Margrave and Margravine, at Brandenburgh House, the authoress gives an amusing description, and is not sparing in her sketches of their contemporaries in the high circles.

The illness and death of the Margrave are thus related:

"He had a favourite grey horse, which was to run for the Derby, and which, from his own and the public opinion, there was every reason to believe was likely to gain the stakes of that year. One morning he called me to him, and with much earnestness said, he had one favour to beg of me, if he should not be alive in the spring when those races were to take place. If I should be taken from you,' said he, let me entreat of you on no account to be persuaded by any one to withdraw the grey horse from the course, as I am certain, if fairly used, he will win the Derby.' I begged of him not to talk in such a manner, as I hoped he would live to see his horse come off victorious that year, and live to see many others. I perceived, from the earnestness of his manner, that he had something more upon his mind; when he informed me that he was aware he had a complaint which would baffle the skill of the faculty, and that he was resigned to his fate, whenever he should be called away.

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His observations were but too true; his constitution gradually gave way, and he resigned his life at Benham,-after lingering for two years with a pulmonary complaint, when he had nearly completed his seventieth year. He had, previously, declared his intention of leaving me in the possession of all

his property: a proof that he thought me deserving of his tenderness was, that he fulfilled his wishes."

This is followed by a panegyric on the exalted character of his Serene Highness, which it is to be hoped he merited; but which at all events it is delightful to read as the involuntary praise of an affectionate wife.

Some of the anecdotes in the present volumes are rather too gay, and in too Continental a taste, for quotation in our pages, and we apprehend their existence may be traced to the Margravine's strong perception of the ludicrous, which, in one or two instances, has certainly thrown her a little off her guard as to decorum; but this is all: she never loses sight of morality.

We trust her book will vindicate her as she wishes. She appears to have been more "sinned against than sinning," especially in the reception she encountered at Court, and from some members of her own family, on her return to her native country, after her marriage with the Margrave. She has, of course, expatiated fully in her memoirs upon this interesting and painful part of her life; and as she always had, even from her enemies, a reputation for veracity, there can be no fear but that the present volumes will place many hitherto doubtful matters in their proper light.

THE LOVER TO HIS MISTRESS.

PRETTY One, when I am dead,

And all the love thou see'st is fled,
In what lone sea cave

Where the weary billows flee

When the moon is on the wave,-
On what slope or sunny shore,
Grassy dell or wild-wood hoar,
Wilt thou count the minutes o'er,
Watching for me?

I-when I am dead and gone,

To thy side will flee;

If the soul may rise upon

Its desires, and soar alone

Where the pale flesh once was known,

Ever will I haunt by thee.

Every hour of every morn,

Every eve when love is born,

Will I stand by thee;

Though my great love thou ne'er see'st,

Still I'll love, and where thou flee'st,

Thither will I flee.

Every night beside thy breast

Will I take my holy rest,
Every sigh thou utterest

Echoed still shall be:

All thy pleasure, all thy pain
I (albeit a shadow vain)

Will endure, and count it bliss:
Pretty doubter, is not this

Truly to love thee?

Jan.--VOL. XVI. NO. LXI. H

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