mily to console them in the hours of affliction; the bosom friend of madame Elizabeth, in whose face were united the queen's beauty with the benignant fea tures of her august brother. That princess, of unblemished morals and exemplary piety, that celestial mind was at tached with the tenderest affection to MARIA ANTOINETTA. Will it ever in future be believed, that this adorable woman could have vowed and preserved the uualterable attachment she manifested for the queen, had there been the slightest foundation for the least of the charges that have been advanced or insinuated by her enemies against her conduct? The constant friendship of madame Elizabeth would be an answer to every calumny, a refutation of every libel, were it necessary to answer or refute them."

The author's account of the origin and progress of the revolution is given in a neat and luminous manner; but we discover in it no new facts. We shall therefore pass it over, and confine our attention to a few of the incidents which are stated as occurring in the prosperous days of the queen, and which preserve some of her characteristick traits.

In the subsequent extract we are informed of the interest which her departure excited in her native city, and of the enthusiastick welcome with which she was received in her adopted country:

"The archdutchess left Vienna. The people all flew to the way she was to take; and at first their grief was dumb. She appeared; and was seen, her cheeks bathed in tears, lying back in her coach, covering her eyes sometimes with her handkerchief and sometimes with her hands; now and then putting her head out of the carriage, to take another look at the palace of her ancestors, which she was never more to enter; and making signs of regret and acknowledgment to the truly worthy people, who were press. ing in crowds to bid her adieu. They now no longer answered with silent tears; the most piercing cries arose from every quarter. Men and women expressed their grief alike. The avenues as well as the streets of Vienna resounded with their cries; nor did they return home till the last horseman in her suite was out of sight, and then but to bewail with their families the common loss. The melancholy impression lasted for a long time; and long did the capital of Austria wear

the appearance of a general mourning, in stead of the hilarity of a marriage. Alas! al. ready was the day marked in futurity when that mourning was to be a dreadful one!

"Every tribute of respect, all the charms of hope, all the intoxication of publick love, attended the entrance of the daughter of MARIA THERESA, the young and beautiful dauphiness of France, on the French territory. On her way, she every where captivated all hearts. Nature, as was said by madame Polignac, had formed MARIA ANTOINETTA for a throne. A majestick stature, a noble beauty, and a manner of holding her head difficult to describe, inspired respect. Her features, without being regular, possessed, what was far superiour, infinite grace. The clearness of her complexion set them off, and gave a dazzling lustre to her counte nance. The most engaging manners still heightened all these charms; and, in the bloom of youth, the elegance and vivacity of her motions, with the frank and lively expression of a good heart and native wit, were particularly calculated to delight the French of those days. She charmed her husband, she charmed the king and all his family, the court and the town, the high and the low, each sex, all ranks, and all ages."

The ensuing anecdote indicates elevation of mind, as well as a forgiving temper:

"The marquis of Pontécoulant, major of the life-guards, had been so unfortunate in the lifetime of Louis XV. as to incur the displeasure of the dauphiness. The cause was not a very serious one; but the princess, resenting it with the hasty vivacity of youth, declared she would never forget it. The marquis, who had not him. self forgotten this declaration, no sooner beheld MARIA ANTOINETTA seated on the throne, than he conceived himself likely to meet with some disgrace, and resolved to prevent it; for which purpose, he directly gave in his resignation to the prince of Beauveau, captain of the guards, at the same time frankly giving him his reasons for so painful a procedure on his part, adding, that he would greatly regret being under the necessity of quitting the king's service; but if his majesty would be pleased to employ him in some other way, he should be very happy. The captain of the guards perceiving the distress of the major's mind, and well acquainted with his merits, took upon himself to present his resignation to the king; but, previously waiting upon the queen, he represented to her the affliction with which the

marquis of Pontécoulant was overwhelm

ed, recounted the usefulness and number of his former services, and then concluded by asking what orders she would be pleased to give, with respect to what was to be done with the resignation. The sight alone of the prince of Beauveau was sufficient to excite generosity in the heart of another, and that of MARIA ANTOINETTA already fostered the principle in its fullest influence. The queen,' said she, 'remembers not the quarrels of the dauphiness, and I now request that the marquis of Pontécoulant will no longer recollect what I have blotted from my memory."

Another incident shows with what favour she was regarded at that time by the fickle Parisians :

"The queen came to Paris to see the play of Iphigenia in Aulus. The empe rour sate next to her at the theatre, and the royal family filled up the box. The audience received them with the liveliest testimonies of joy; but all this was trifling when compared to the transport which was excited by an incident in the piece. At that part in which the young and beauteous Iphigenia passes in triumph through the midst of the Grecian camp, a chorus of Thessalians exclaims,

Que d'attraits! Que de majesté! Que de grâces! Que de beauté ! Chantons, célébrons notre reine. Behold her beauteous and majestick form! What grace divine our youthful queen displays!

Loud swell the strain to celebrate her praise.

Scarcely were these words uttered when the allusion struck the minds of all. Not only were the eyes of the whole theatre turned towards the young and beautiful MARIA ANTOINETTA; not only was every applauding hand directed towards the place she occupied, but even the chorus was encored, a thing unheard of in this drama. The actor, who performed the part of Achilles, overjoyed at seeing himself all at once made the organ of the sentiments of the French people, pointed directly to the queen's box, repeating to his Thessalian followers,

Chantez, celebrez notre reine. The people in every part of the theatre stood up, and joined their voices with those of the actors. The queen, who was standing, leaned upon her brother, entirely overcome by her sensibility, and the grateful pleasure that filled her breast. She endeavoured t withdraw herself from the homage so eage y pressed upon her; and, although amid the confused sensations that rushed in upon her at once, she was incapable of giving expression to her

feelings, she nevertheless succeeded most effectually in manifesting them to all, for not a gesture escaped her, not a tear fell from her eye, that did not contribute to aug. ment the enthusiastick ardour with which her every motion was attended to. Her brother, and the princes of the royal family, bowed by turns to the audience, acknowledging the justice of their allusion; and then, turning to the queen, congratulated her upon the splendid triumph she enjoyed, professing themselves delighted at the idea of adding to it by their presence. Along the passages, upon the stairs, and to the very door of the theatre, was this chorus repeated; every place rang with those favourite words,

Chantons, célébrons notre reine. What a moment must this have been for MARIA ANTOINETTA! How deep must she have drunk of the cup of joy!"

A domestick scene next presents itself:

"Three hours after the birth of the dauphin, three hundred couriers set off from Versailles, to bear the news to every part of the kingdom, and to all foreign courts. The capital was very soon informed of it. Scarcely was the cry of a dauphin, a dauphin, heard in the palace, ere it echoed through Versailles, made its way along the publick roads, and resounded in every corner of Paris.

"The shops were instantly shut; every one rushed to the places of worship to offer up thanksgivings to Heaven; dances were formed in the open streets; alms were delivered to the poor; and prisoners were set at liberty. The king, transported with joy, gave the most ingenuous proofs of it to the court and all his people. Like Henry IV. he appeared at the windows with the child in his arms, showing him to the crowd that flocked in repeated multitudes to shower their blessings upon it and the father. He received the deputations of sovereign courts, of municipalities, and of all the trading companies.* High and low, rich and poor,

"The king was very fond of mechanicks, and his usual work of recreation was making of locks. The company of locksmiths, belonging to Versailles, came upon this happy occasion to pay their dutiful congratulations, presenting him at the same time with a production of their trade, which they denominated a masterpiece. It was a secret lock. The king desired that he might be left to find out the secret himself. This he did; but at the instant that he touched the spring, there darted, from the centre of the lock, a

were all alike permitted to draw near to him with their felicitations; his happiness was the happiness of all, and the joy which he witnessed in others increased his own.

"The queen, in the mean while, had not lost sight of what might be termed her favourite deed of piety. She had already sent to give freedom to a hundred women, who were confined in consequence of not being able to defray the expense of nursing their children. She yet, however, knew only that she was a mother, but was ignorant whether of a prince or princess. The king, with his wonted tender solicitude, had requested her to consent to remain ignorant of her infant's sex till the second day, fearful that joy or disappointment might have an equally bad effect upon her constitution; but, on the other hand, the continuance of her anxiety night also be dangerous. At length, after having himself struggled for several hours with the secret, he found that he could no longer withstand the entreaties of the beloved of his soul. Seated on the bed near the queen, he listened while she declared to him with the most enchanting complacency of manner, that if indeed her wish had always been for a son, it was a wish inspired by her anxiety for the commonweal, and the satisfaction of the king. So resigned did she appear, so determined to receive without a murmur whatever Heaven had given, and so perfectly convinced was she that it was a daughter, from the mysterious silence preserved, that the king could no longer contain himself. He rose, and called aloud to the attendants, to bring M. the dauphin to the queen. At these words the grateful-shall I say the happy? yes, that moment happiness was her's; the happy MARIA ANTOINETTA raised herself up in the bed, and spread out her arms towards the king, when this august pair, locked up in each other's embrace, iningled tears so full of rapture, that even the dauphin was allowed to remain beside them for some minutes without being perceived."

Another anecdote shows that this fascinating princess must have been eminently amiable and charitable.

"It happened when Louis XV. was hunting in the forest of Fontainbleau, that a furious stag, having been several times

dauphin admirably worked in steel. The king was much delighted, and with a full heart declared that the ingenious present of these worthy people gratified him much, and with his own hands he made them a handsome remuneration."

wounded, leaped over the low wall of a little garden at Achere, and springing on a peasant, who was digging on the ground, thrust his horns into his bowels. Some of the neighbours who saw the sad accident, finding that the poor gardener was expiring, ran to tell his wife, who was working in the fields, at the distance of a mile and a half from the place. The unhappy woman rent the air with her cries, and gave every mark of the most violent despair. The dauphiness, who was passing in a chariot at the time, not far from the spot, in her way to the rendezvous of the chace, hearing the cries of the disconso. late woman, stopped her carriage, and darting from it, flew across the vineyard, to the assistance of the sufferer, whom she found in fits. She made her smell some hartshorn, and in the mean while inquired into the nature of the accident that had just happened. The poor woman, on recovering, found herself in the arms of the dauphiness, who was weeping. This young princess endeavoured, by every tender consideration which her heart could suggest, to console this victim of calamity, and gave her all the money her purse contained. When the dauphin, the count and countess of Provence came up, they mingled their sympathy with her's, and followed the example of her bounty. She then ordered her carriage to the spot, and obliged the miserable woman to get in, with her child, and two other villagers; at the same time giving strict charge to one of her servants to carry the wife with all speed to her husband, and the poor child to its father, and then to return as quick as possible to give her an account of the state in which the wounded man was. Whilst the dauphiness was waiting in all the agony of suspense for the footman's return, the king joined her, and, hearing what had happened, exclaimed— "What a shocking thing it would be if this man should die! How shall we ever console his wife and child?' 'How otherwise, my dear father,' replied the dauphiness, than by striving to relieve their distress for shall we not, by that means, in some degree lessen the bitterness of their lot!' The king immediately promised to give them a pension, and ordered his first surgeon to visit the wounded man every day, who, by such care, was, at length restored to his family, to bless his illustrious benefactress."

In the following passage, a claim is urged in favour of the queen, to which her right, we believe, is not generally known:

"France prides herself at present, and justly, on possessing the first Lyrical Theatre of Europe. The master pieces of musick with which the collection of the Royal Academy of Paris has been enriched for fifteen years past, secure it an incontestable superiority over those of all other capitals. This justice is paid to it by all travelers and people of taste. It would be very difficult, not to say impossible, to estimate the sums which this dramatick preeminence has drawn to Paris, and scattered over France, by the concourse of opulent strangers which it has contributed to bring or detain in the country. Now, it is a fact which every one must acknowledge, that the musick of France, before the arrival of MARIA ANTOINETTA, was semi-barbarous. This science was still in its infancy, while all the others had passed the period of their ma turity. As soon as MARIA ANTOINETTA had been at the opera, she resolved to improve the national taste. To her it is, to her enlightened love of the arts, that France is indebted for the revolution

which was then effected in musick. She it was who brought from Vienna to Paris, who encouraged, who protected against all cabals, the chevalier Gluck, who had had the honour to give her lessons, and who was the first that could place the dagger of Melpomene in the hands of Euterpe. He gave to the serious opera the true tone of tragedy. Boileau said of the opera

of his day:

Jusqu'à je vous hais, tout s'y dit tendre

ment.

And e'en I hate you glides a tender strain. A critique which, with very few exceptions, was still applicable to the opera, as MARIA ANTOINETTA found it at her arrival in France. In a few years it felt her happy influence; and could Boileau have revisited the world, he would have found that my illustrious countryman, Gluck, as poetical in his musick as Corneille and Racine were harmonious in their poetry, had, in his operas, put in practice the precepts of the legislator of Parnassus, and that at his touch, each passion spoke its proper language. MARIA ANTOINETTA not only invited to Paris the genius who was the boast of Vienna, but also those excellent composers whose works were the delight of Italy. Piccini and Sacchini were desired and encouraged by MARIA ANTOINETTA to come and enrich the French stage. In this they succeeded, by following the path marked out by the German Orpheus; and if the competition of these three celebrated masters occasioned some warm disputes among the

French, it at least proved useful to the art. In fact, it is to that fermentation, and to the discussions it produced, that the world are indebted for those master pieces Dido, dipus, Armida, and Alcestes, which will remain for ever the glory of the Lyrical Theatre of Paris, and be lasting models for future artists. This is one of the permanent benefits which France has derived from MARIA ANTOINETTA. AS long as the French are sensible of the effects of harmony, of the charms of melody; as long as a taste for the beautiful prevails in France, it will be as impossible to forget the fifteen years reign of MARIA ANTOINETTA, as it is now to forget the glorious age of Louis XIV. and perhaps the favourites of Euterpe, in speaking of the period when that magick spectacle in which poetry, dancing, and musick combine a hundred pleasures in one, attained its greatest glory, will one day call it the age of MARIA ANTOINETTA.'

Happy had it been for this high personage, for France, and for the world, had she confined herself to the cares, occupations, and scenes with which and in which she is here represented as busied. But unfortu nately she was induced to interfere in publick affairs, for which province she was totally unfit. The fact clearly appears from the present work, though it is but slightly touched.The unpopularity of her later years is ascribed to the machinations of the duke of Orleans, and to a most unfounded suspicion that she sacrificed the interest of France from affection to her brother. The hostility of the duke is attributed to the queen having discountenanced his profligate manners by refusing him admission to her parties at Versailles and Trianon, "in which gayety and sprightliness never intrenched on the forms of decency and propriety," and to the heterodox political principles which he had imbibed in his education, and in his visits to England.

Mr. Weber alludes to the famous affair of the necklace, without eluci dating it; and though he confidently asserts the innocence of the queen, and her total ignorance of the transaction, he omits to state the grounds on which his opinion is formed. He