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MEMOIRS OF A YOUNG GREEK FEMALE.

By Madame Adelaide Alexandre Panam. Paris. Published by the Author, and by Brissot-Thivars. 1823.

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We do not give this ironical critique as the announcement of a new work, but as a literary anecdote. Although written in French, and sent to us in that language, it is the production of a German, M. Mullner, the author of the tragedy, entitled "Crime," &c. We are assured it could not be published in Germany, because the hero of the romance is a petty Prince of that country. However, M. Mullner has neither named nor designated him any way; and he has besides endeavoured, in some degree, to defend the Prince of the romance against the attacks of the heroine.

A young Frenchwoman, the daughter of Greek parents, fourteen years of age, made at Paris the conquest of a foreign sovereign. After having granted to him the last favours, she followed him to his own territory to make her fortune at court, that is to say, to be enrolled, according to his promise, amongst the number of his sister's ladies of honour. Unfortunately, she was not so placed; the prince, instead of making her fortune, lui fait un' un enfant, as they say, and refused to furnish her with the means of living, or of maintaining and educating this little scion of an august stock. A marriage, such as his rank exacted, determined him to send away the young mother from his capital, and when afterwards she was induced to return, to endeavour to urge a decision, she was considered importunate, insulted in different ways, and at length persecuted to such an extent, that she entertained apprehensions for her life, and for that of her child,

Such is nearly the substance of this well-written romance, which would be good, but for the catastrophe. The situation of the heroine having changed from good to bad, the reader has a right to expect either a change from bad to good, or a tragical conclusion. But what does the young Greek do? what becomes of her? Does she conceal her shame and her misfortunes in a distant country, in order to devote the rest of her life to the education of her orphan son? Does she render him a man truly worthy of the throne of his father? Is she finally recompensed for her labours and cares, by the poetic justice of heaven? Does the prince, on the death of his august spouse, who had given him no heirs, recognise the avenging hand of the Deity? Does he repent within himself? Does he regret his young Greek, and his natural son? Does he endeavour to seek them in all corners of the universe, to repair their wrongs by elevating the mother to the throne, and securing to the son the rights which a barbarous prejudice would refuse to him? Or is the heroine enraged at the infidelity of her illustrious lover? Does she revenge his cruelty, either upon him, or upon herself, or upon both? Has she, for instance, the courage to play the part of Medea, to plunge the poignard into the bosom of her child, to poison her august rival, and to wrap the palace in flames?

Nothing of all this. Finding it impossible to obtain from the Prince the money which she desired, and which he had promised to pay her quarterly, she returns to France, and, either to repair her broken fortunes, or to revenge herself upon her unfaithful lover, or to attain both objects at once, she does nothing better than-publish her memoirs, which are thus before us.

The catastrophe is undoubtedly beneath poetry; it is merely typogra

phical, a totally new species of catastrophe, and one of which it would have been impossible for the ancients to conceive the idea, even if typography had been known to them. It was not, indeed, for want of printers and booksellers that they were ignorant of this avenging publicity, which, by persecuting either vice or folly, may do so much good to society. It appears, on the contrary, that they liked it, for the Roman legislation favoured it so far as to sanction the rule, Peccata nocentium nota esse oportet et expedit; and that amongst the Greeks, Aristophanes employed it with the greatest success. Thus we know from Plin. Hist. Nat. 36, 5, that this intellectual and most mysterious force was then capable of being employed to produce tragical catastrophes: the poet Hipponax killed two artists who had given him offence at a spectacle, simply by means of his satirical verses, the caustic point of which induced them to resort to the suicidal cord. But the ancients knew very well that, in public opinion, they could not obtain a complete victory over their adversaries, except by having the laughers on their side: and in fact, if ever the literary publication of a reproachable action can answer the purpose of the tragic poignard, it is only by means of ridicule. It is thus that the catastrophe of this romance appears to us ill conceived. The Greek lady, in limiting her vengeance to the publication of her memoirs, has the air of wishing to persuade us that her unfaithful and parsimonious lover is dying of shame and chagrin; but she will not be believed, because she does nothing but blacken the character of the Prince in dry colours, the dust of which will not fail to spoil the completion of the amiable painter.

Madame P. however, may urge against us one very specious objection. She may say, perhaps, You have passed judgment upon a romance: but it is a biography which I have published:' and in truth, it assumes that appearance; she has employed all the resources of the poetic art, to persuade us that the author is ingeniously relating the history of her own life. Be it so that would induce us to change our sentence, but not our sentiment.-Is it then a romance that Madame P. publishes? she should have invented better.-Is it the history of her life? she should have lived better,

A MIRACLE.

THE city of St. Angelo, in Lombardy, has been the theatre of an event, which ought in reality to be regarded as miraculous. On the 7th of April died Don Vicenzo Bonea, notary, aged 84, whose life was a constant exemplification of all the virtues. When it became necessary to place the body in the coffin, it was remarked with surprise that the face of the defunct, as well as his hands, were covered with a profuse perspiration, and that his eyes were open. The curate thought proper in consequence to suspend the burial, and caused the body to be meantime placed in a chapel. On the following day, some scientific men examined the body: they found all the limbs in a state of the greatest flexibility, which created fresh surprise. But, what is still more astonishing, a young man of the same city, who had for many years suffered under the affliction of a malady considered incurable, on being brought into the chapel where the corpse was, had scarcely entered the place, when he was cured. The body was subsequently suffered to be exposed during several days, and during all this time exhaled no disagreeable smell. We are not aware if any other cures as astonishing as those which we have just cited were effected during the exposure of the body.-Gazetta di Napoli, May 8th.

ROYAL ACADEMY.

THE present is the fifty-sixth Exhibition of native talent under the auspices of this Royal establishment, and if we were to judge of the state of the fine arts in this country, by the specimens here produced, we should feel disposed to acknowledge that the British school had passed its meridian, and was rapidly verging towards its declination; but the project of another institution in the metropolis, for the encouragement and display of the fine arts, which was so imperatively called for by the abuses or mismanagement at the Royal Academy, has been received with such prompt support, that we believe the parent foundation has found it rather difficult, in the present instance, to collect sufficient materials to form what they might consider a tolerably respectable exhibition. We cannot however help thinking that a very large portion of the specimens, which at present decorate the walls of the Academy, reflect but little credit upon the judgment of the hanging committee, and, indeed, to speak plainly, are a perfect disgrace to the institution.

Besides the general paucity of talent, out of one thousand and thirtyseven subjects, nearly six-hundred are portraits, mostly of persons unknown to the world; and among the productions of fancy, there are but few gems, certainly no brilliants; we will mention the most striking.

No. 20, “The Cherry-seller, a scene at Turvey, Bedfordshire, by W. Collins, R. A." is a pretty picture, and displays talent. No. 34, "Abbeville-a Juggler exhibiting his trick, by G. Jones, R. A. elect," is clever, but not equal to the preceding. No. 55, "Arundel Castle, the seat of the Duke of Norfolk, by W. Daniel, R. A." is a very good picture, both in colouring and effect. No. 72, "View from the Park at Arundel," by the same, is by no means so well coloured. No. 95, "Sancho Panza in the apartment of the Duchess, by C. R. Leslie," is in many parts extremely clever. No. 110, "Smugglers offering run Goods for sale or concealment," and No. 115, "Cottage Toilette, from Allan Ramsay's Gentle Shepherd, by D. Wilkie, R. A." are by no means equal to his former productions; and No. 113, "The Widow, by W. Mulready, R. A." is far from being a good picture, either in design or execution. No. 139, "Distant View of the Marhatta Country, from the Boa Ghaut between Bombay and Poonah, with military figures, by W. Westall, A." exhibits very extraordinary scenery, and is very prettily painted. No. 160," Rochester from the River below the Bridge, by A. W. Callcott, R. A." is tolerably good upon the whole, but the middle ground of the picture is too misty for its distance. No. 161, "Amorett delivered by Britomart from the spell of Busyrane (Spenser's Fairy Queen), by H. Fuseli, R. A." is the same sort of dirty smear that we have been used to see from this artist. No. 185, “ English Travellers attacked by Banditti, on the road to Rome between Gaeta and Terracina, by D. Dighton," is a bold, well-conceived subject, but the characters are rather coarsely drawn. No. 251, Stage Coach Travellers, by Rippingille," as far as design goes, is extremely good, but certainly is very indifferently painted. No. 263, "A Highland Clan escorting the Regalia of Scotland, by D. Dighton," is very flat and dingy. No. 285, "Lord Patrick Lindesay of the Byres, and Lord William Ruthven, compelling Mary, Queen of Scots, to sign her Abdication, by W. Allan," has some

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tolerable parts, but upon the whole, is tame. No. 350, "Sunset after a Storm, by F. Danby," is the most extraordinary picture in the collection; such a peculiar distribution of black, blue, red, and yellow in streaks, certainly never was placed upon canvas before.

No. 361, "The Barrier and Village of Passey, near Paris, by the Rev. R. H. Lancaster," would have done great credit to a professional artist; as the production of an amateur, it is admirable. No. 375, "View of the High Street, and Lawn Market, Edinburgh, by A. Naysmith," is, perhaps, one of the best pictures in the Exhibition; had the fore-ground been something brighter, the effect would have been greatly improved.

There are few other subjects, in the painting department, worthy of notice; we, therefore, proceed to the Architectural:-No. 844, "A Geometrical Elevation of Part of one of the fronts of an Idea (an idea we hope it will always remain) for an Imperial Palace to be built in ten years at £300,000 per annum, by J. Gandy, A.” This is one of the strangest compositions ever put together. No. 970, "Is a rough Cork Model of a Design for a Church, by the same gentleman," in which there is certainly some novelty and good effect; we object to Greek churches, but if they are to be built, there are points about this design that may be desirably appropriated; we do not, however, mean to approve the detached steeple. No. 976, "A. Monumental Device, by J. Bacon," is certainly not above mediocrity. No. 983, "A Bacchante asleep, in marble, by R. W. Sievier:" this is nearly as large as life, and is extremely beautiful; we are really astonished at this young artist; scarcely has three years elapsed since he first took the chisel in hand, and we find him in very respectable competition with Chantrey. No. 1006, "Statue of the late Dr. Cyril Jackson, Dean of Christ-Church:" No. 1008, "Statue of the late Countess of Liverpool:" No. 1010, "Statue of the late James Watt, by F. Chantrey," we need only say are executed in his usual style of excellence. No. 1007, "Statue of the infant Son of J. Hope, Esq. by W. Behnes," is extremely pretty: and 1019, "The bust of Fuseli, in marble, by E. H. Baily, R. A." does much credit to the artist.

MR. PERKINS'S STEAM GUN.

The following short account of what led to the invention of the Steam Gun, which is quite in its infancy, may not be uninteresting.

"OBSERVING, while experimenting with the generator, that substances, whether metallic or otherwise, when they rose from the bottom of the generator through the tube of the stop-cock, were projected with great velocity; the thought naturally struck me, that with a properly constructed gun, projectiles might be thrown with great power and economy. It also appeared to me, that it would at once settle the important question respecting velocity, as well as power, of high elastic steam. No time was therefore lost in constructing a gun, and on the first experiment my most sanguine hopes were realized, as musket-balls, at the rate of 240 per minute, were projected with a velocity equal to gunpowder. I dare not speculate on the consequences of this discovery, as I feel satisfied, that the power, economy, and simplicity of this agent is such, that one projectile may be found sufficient to force any breach, or sink the largest ship, though it gives me great pleasure to hear the opinion so often repeated, that this power will be to gunpowder, what that has been to the arrow.

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"I have found that forty atmospheres' pressure is equal to gunpowder: viz. an ounce ball discharged against an iron target from a six-foot barrel about one-thirty-second part smaller than the ball, was flattened to 2 inches in diameter; and at 45 atmospheres, its blow against the target liquified the lead. An ounce ball discharged from a musket with powder, with the common field charge, at the same distance, did not shew more effect. It is said, with great plausibility, that there must be some fallacy in this experiment, for as it takes from 500 to 1000 atmospheres' pressure to propel a ball with proper effect with powder, it is asked how can it take but 40 or 50 atmospheres of steam to do the same? Having the fact before me, I think I can find the reason, which I have no doubt is the same as that, why fulminating powder, although infinitely stronger than gunpowder, will not (though it bursts the gun), throw the ball one-twentieth part so far, the power being too instantaneous for projectiles; gunpowder being less so, gives greater effect, although the mechanical pressure is much less. Steam power acting with constant pressure on the ball until it leaves the gun, in consequence of the non-diminishing generation of it, is, I believe the cause of the increased effect."

THE HISTORY OF THE DEAD.

THESE are the generations of the dead,
A long, dark, drear, and melancholy race,
Who with past times and ages long have fled,
'Nor left on earth one solitary trace!

Hark! thro' the peopled realms a voice proclaims,
And to the living shall the sound be heard:-
Behold, he comes! in pestilence, in flames,
In war, in ruin, and in deeds abhorr'd.
He comes! the world is quiv'ring at his name,
He comes, with millions prostrate at his feet,
All yield to him: the mighty sons of Fame,
With unknown myriads, in his presence meet.
Lo! where the pomp of man is rushing by,

Fleet as the winds that rock the billowy surge,
This is the History of the Dead, that fly

Where Death's imperious mandates onward urge.
Talk not of pomp, ye heritors of earth,
Ye gaudy mimics, fluttering for a day,
To swell his grandeur ages had their birth,
And unborn millions shall attest his sway.

Where are the mighty warriors of yore,

Where the bright spirits that have struck the lyre?
Where the adventurous legions, that once bore
The Roman eagle, with a conq'ror's fire?
Where are the myriads that have seen the sun,
Since first Death came, with all his train of woe?

Since Desolation's work was first begun,
And mad Ambition roll'd in blood below?

All now lie mingled with their native dust,

Of strength and beauty here no wrecks remain ;
Thou, too, if deem'd unfaithful to thy trust,
Shalt dwell for aye in bitter, nameless pain.

HAROLD.

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