tion, but its entire cessation---in other words, the compensation ought to extend to the whole value of the planters' estates. Precipitate measures must therefore be abandoned; and the enemies of slavery must apply themselves only to such measures as tend to gradual emancipation, and to imparting to the negro the motive for the necessary quantity of voluntary exertion. This last was the main object of Mr. Jenkinson's proposition, that of encouraging the increase of the negro population---in other words, of increasing the competition of labour in the market, for the necessary effect of the operation of the principle of population would be the compelling, ex necessitate rei, the free negroes to work to an extent inversely as the demand for their labour. But even this should be cautiously effected, for the "strike" of the negroes for one year, would ruin irretrievably every planter in the Colonies.---Lord Liverpool's proposition failed; he was not then a Minister.

The death of Mr. Pitt left Lord Liverpool (then Hawkesbury) an ampler field for the exertion of his talents as a statesman. His historical fame will be dated at the peace of Amiens. For such was the state of parties during the life time of Mr. Pitt, and of his celebrated (and equally exaggerated) rival, Mr. Fox, that none of their followers, no matter how commanding his talents, could ever hope to obtain any ascendancy in the councils of the nation. Every man pinned his political faith either to one or the other; and while the genius, wit, eloquence, and romantic chivalry of disposition of a Windham had fain play second fiddle to a man in all points his inferior, the Sheridans, the Greys, the Whitbreads, and the Tierneys, were content with chorusing the song of their overrated leader. Reflection on the conduct and opinions of either was entirely out of the question; it was, in fact, a political heresy, for with both, faith had supplied the place of reason. One party was perfectly satisfied that all the measures of the Minister were right; and the other as confidently expected the country would be saved, notwithstanding its impending ruin and misfortunes, as soon as the political redeemer came into power. The nation at large seemed to be so deeply impressed with this feeling, that on the death of both leaders in 1806, they spoke and acted as if all hopes of their safety and existence were at an end, and that their only duty was to passively submit themselves to the will of that heaven which, it would appear, had withdrawn its protection, in having recalled its earthly ambassadors. At this time Lord Hawkesbury was offered his present post, the Premiership, by his late Majesty; with a discretion and forethought, peculiarly his own, he declined the nominal honor, and accepted the arduous station of Foreign Secretary. He had already filled with credit and ability the office of Secretary to the Treasury, and Secretary of State to the Home Department; and was already distinguished for his cool judgment and various knowledge of the foreign relations of the country. The difficulties of the Foreign Secretaryship at this time will best appear from a glance at the state of the nation in 1807. The administration presented the rare anomaly in English politics of having no leader, and of having a nominal head who was never seen or spoken of in Parliament, or heard of out of doors--the Duke of Portland. Most of them held their places less by their own strength than by the weakness of their opponents; for of all administrations, that which they had succeeded was the most unpopular. The Grenville party entirely agreed with the goverument in the fundamental principles of its policy, foreign and domestic, but they opposed it in all the details of administration with a factious animosity which seemed to show how deeply their recent exclusion from office rankled in their bosoms; and thus they lost with the nation much of that weight which they must otherwise have possessed by reason of their acknowledged ability, their constitutional principles, and their high personal

character. Mr. Fox, from the dawn of the Revolution, had opposed the Antigallican war with something of democratic virulence; his followers were still its systematic opponents.

The foreign relations of the country were particularly disheartening. At the commencement of the war of fifteen years which terminated at the peace of Amiens, all Europe was leagued with England against revolutionary France; at the commencement of the war after the peace of Amiens, all Europe was leagued with imperial France against England. The English fleet swept the sea; the armies of France occupied continental Europe. Neither of these tremendous powers, the only ones either could employ against the other, could possibly be brought into contact; and it appeared as hopeless an undertaking for England to attack France with an army, as for the latter to contend for the empire of the sea. This was a time to try a man's fortitude as well as his sagacity. What did Lord Hawkesbury at this hour of trial? What was his tone? War! a war on the Continent! a war not to be brought to a conclusion, "till the British troops marched in triumph to Paris!" For this grand, this prophetic, this sublimely patriotic declaration, he was scoffed at by his opponents, and contemptuously sneered at by his friends. It was in vain that he told them, that though the war might appear hopeless, it, or continental vassalage to France, was the only choice the country had left, and that peace would not only be disgraceful, but most perilous, so long as Buonaparte held the continent of Europe as a province. It was in vain he appealed to their national vanity, and reminded them of the days of Edward, and Henry, and Marlborough; and it was in vain that he showed them, that, though the national expenditure was actually seventytwo millions a year, the wheels of the political machine seemed to move more freely than impeded by the weight laid upon them, and that the agricultural, manufacturing, and commercial prosperity of the country at least, kept pace with its burdens. All that he could obtain for months, nay years, the most critical, was a lukewarm armament to Portugal; till on the death of Mr. Perceval he became more absolute in the Cabinet. Then, but not till then, it was, that the Peninsular war, under his auspices, was carried on with more vigour and spirit; the battle of Waterloo was fought---his sanguine predictions were realized---his scoffers rebuked--the British troops marched in triumph to Paris.

We have dwelt so long in these the earlier, and on that account the less known, events of Lord Liverpool's political history, that we have not left ourselves room to enter upon his politico-economical views, and opinions (which, however, we shall have abundant opportunities of discussing), or upon the merits of his more recent policy as Prime Minister. Its being recent, however, in some degree precludes the necessity.

In his opinions on the subject of the Catholic Claims, we see proof of that long-sighted policy for which he is so pre-eminent. His Lordship thinks that Catholic emancipation would be but the prologue of a drama, of which the abolition of tythes, at least the diminution of the value of Church property, and of the respectability of the Church establishment in Ireland, and ultimately in England, would be a chief incident. We agree with him, but, nevertheless, consider that the peace of millions and the prosperity of a kingdom, probably an empire, are at stake. But more of this at a fitting time.

Lord Liverpool's style of speaking is cogent, argumentative, and synthetical; his language pure*, precise, and English, undisfigured by in

The writer of this article has heard an intelligent and experienced Parliamentary Reporter say, that no living speaker's language can be altered to greater disadvantage than Lord Liverpool's; and that none is so free from the jactantes et ambitiosos institores eloquentus---which many whom we could name of repute, mistake for oratory.

terpolation from the coined mintage of rhetoric, and free from all puerile exotics, glittering paradoxes, and showy trite generalities; his manner earnest, urbane, and dignified, with much of the negligentia non ingrata, so much commended by Cicero. You see at once, from the unassumed downrightness of voice and gesture, that he means what he speaks, and speaks what he means, and that he is inflamed by no desire to catch applause by a sparkling soda-waterish sentiment, or well-turned, sonorous period, gracefully delivered, but that he says what at the moment appears fittest to be said, according to the state of his own mind, or the character of the question; that he is one, qui et humilia subtiliter, et magna graviter, et mediocria temperate potest dicere; and that his only aim is to convince you he is right, without ostentation; and that you are wrong, without arrogance. In him are united some very happy and rare qualities: he can trifle without affecting his dignity, can dispute without losing his temper, can be ponderous without exaggerations, can be precise without being quaint; and as his temperateness is free from languor, so is his solemnity untinctured by grimace. His arguments are more distinguished for their force than their subtlety, for their acuteness than their refinement; as if, it would appear, the only tactics he would employ to vanquish sophistry and ingenuity, are those furnished by integrity and common-sense. In speaking very lately of the Duke of York, he remarked that the virtues as well as the failings of the deceased Prince, were those of an English gentleman. We can say of him in return, that his virtues, as well as failings, are those of an English Minister. For in him are eminently to be seen the great dignity of a mind roused only by great objects, the absence of petty bustle, the contempt of show, the abhorrence of intrigue, the plainness, downrightness, and strong good nature that constitute the pride and ornament of the English character.

MADEMOISELLE SONNTAG.

The Furet has favored the world with a most affecting tale; quite a conte moral, we should say, if it were not so desperately romantic, of which Mademoiselle Sonntag, "one of the loveliest, as "well as sweetest, of singers," is the heroine. We had been well aware of the sad havoc which that lady had made among the hearts of the young and old, both at the Berlin Hof Theatre, and at the Italian Opera at Paris. But we have no doubt that the opinion which the world have hitherto entertained of the attractions of Mademoiselle Sonntag, will be considerably enhanced if they will but consult the columns of the Furet; there they will find that

"In fashion she hath no peere ;

And princely wightes that lady wooed,
To be theyr wedded fere."

It will further appear that the heir of one of the first families in Prussia, the Prince de Hardenberg," loveth her best of all;" and, as the prose version of the Furet says, he fell into a deep melancholy, from which nothing could rouse him. At length he wrote to his father, from whom he had received a formal refusal, that not being able to exist without the woman he loved, he was determined to put an end to his sufferings by ridding himself of his life.

"And aye! but I winne that ladye's love,

For dole now I mun dye."

Then comes the best part of the story: the father offering, in his turn, to die rather than consent to a mes-alliance; the king interpos ing his authority, or rather his interest, with his Prime Minister, and requesting old Hardenberg to be a kind father, to consider that Madamoiselle Sonntag's character was irreproachable, that his son's passion was so violent; and just suggesting that it was proper to submit the one to a trial of absence, and the other to a trial of the allurements of life. But here we must take our leave of the ballad of Syr Cauline; the parallel will no longer do: the times are sadly changed, and the age of chivalry is gone. Then the King sent off the knight, by way of trial," to fighte the grimme Soldan ;" now his Majesty of Prussia sends off the lady to stand the allurements of London and Paris!

Whatever may be the merits of this story, we must say, that it strikes us as rather extraordinary, that young Hardenberg should write to his father, the Prime Minister; and still more so, that he should receive an answer, unless it be by the petite poste across the Styx--seeing that old Hardenberg has been dead and gone for several years, long before his son could have seen Mademoiselle Sonntag on the Berlin stage.

But, setting aside this circumstance, we are still surprised, that the Editor of a French journal, though in an atmosphere somewhat heretical in affairs of taste, should venture to insert in his columns any thing so unclassical, so utterly romantic. What will his French readers say, and more especially, what will be the sensation in the Paris salons, if they discover, that he relates, with visible satisfaction, something so desperately, romantic, or, as he has very properly observed, so absolutely German? Gare! M. le Redacteur!

We are enabled to furnish the Editor of the Furet with the clue of the circumstances on which the recital given to him, se non vero, at least, ben trovato, is probably founded.

The prior part of the story, the love of a young nobleman, the refusal of his father, and the correspondence, has been a current report at Berlin nearly a twelvemonth ago, only they did not trouble the manes of old Hardenberg; the lover was not, besides his other. feats and hardships, obliged to apply to his dead father; but the misery was, that the father was, and, for aught we know, may be still alive; and though he is not Prime Minister, but only a Bohemian Count, still obstinately refused his consent to the marriage. Besides, they are much too loyal at Berlin to think of introducing the name of his Majesty in a love-story.

We have had occasion, in another article in this number, to mention a novel, which made much noise at Berlin, as Mademoiselle Sonntag was the heroine, and most of the fashionables of the day were among the dramatis personæ. When the last copy of " Hen"rietta, the fair Songstress," had scarcely been sold, the book was prohibited, and the police were busy in tracing the author. They succeeded, or, at least, they thought they had succeeded, in laying

VOL. 11.

3 с

the crime of all the bold allusions which the volumes contained, at the door of Ludwig Rellstab, the author of a well-known collection of "Legends and Romantic Tales," which are much esteemed for the elegance of the style, which is considered to come nearest to the classical model of A. W. Schlegel's performances. But as the Berlin police are woefully indifferent to the point, whether a man writes good or bad German, Ludwig Rellstab was forthwith commanded to prison, and detained sufficient time to understand, that it is one thing to write Romantic Tales and Legends, and another to exercise his satirical views on the great folks of Berlin.

In that novel, however, the report of the ardent love of the Bohemian Count, has been taken up, and somewhat adorned. He subjects her to a number of trials, both by his agents in Berlin, and by his own appearance before her in disguise. But she is found faithful, sans tache et sans reproche; and the novel concluded by introducing her as Countess ***.

There are two facts, on which the said novel, and the recital of the Furet, and the report of all who have seen her, perfectly agree; first, that she really is "one of the loveliest, as well as sweetest, "singers" and, secondly, that her line of conduct has always been most honorable, and superior to the slightest suspicion.. Her style of singing has occasioned some criticism; at Berlin, they considered her exclusively fitted for Rossini's manner; at Paris, they thought she spoiled Mozart and Cimarosa, and that her pronunciation of the Italian was not quite soft enough; but at both places, her manner, in her favorite characters, was declared to be fascinating. Her appearance was the despair of all the other actresses; even the celebrated Fodor went to the sea side, and left the Opera to Mademoiselle Sonntag, and to some minor constellations, who could never think of rivalling her. At Berlin, there was a great deal of intrigue carried on by her rivals on the stage; but the enthusiasm was boundless; they were insatiable to hear, and to admire; and it was said, that as long as she was at Berlin, on every day of the week there was "bestandige Sonntagsfeier," which we shall abstain from translating; since the ladies would never forgive us, if we were not to give them credit for a knowledge of German, and the gentlemen must know that a pun is intraduisible.

A large field of conjecture is open as to the probable consequences of her appearance in London. Who can tell-to be silent of other possibilities--who can tell, whether we shall not have a fifth edition of Tremaine, with Dr. Evelyn "rubbing his hands" with satisfaction, and suppressing the sermon on the opera altogether? Who can tell, whether Vivian-even Vivian himself-will not say good bye to "the famous tun of Heidelberg," the apt emblem of his boundless grief, and abandon his evening parties" on the moon-lit "Neccar," and start for home with the Eil-post, or may be in his barouche? And who can tell, whether it will not come to pass, that on taking up the journals, or the novels of the day, it will become customary to ask, "No scandal about Mademoiselle Sonntag, I hope?"