and in apology for its omission, the Reader is informed, that every probable source of information having been searched, no Memoir or Account can be obtained that may be depended upon.

"It would seem that the humility of PUCKLE himself has deprived the world of a more extensive knowledge of his personal biography; still sufficient traits of his mind are discernible in his writ

ings, to warrant the conclusion that he has been influenced solely by a desire of doing good, and of preserving the character of a good citizen, and an honest man; an opinion which is warranted by the sentiments of the present Work, and is still more fully confirmed by two other productions of his, entitled, England's Interest,' and England's way to Wealth and Honour,' copies of which are in the

6

collection of the British Museum."

Prefixed to the Work is a neat copy by T. Bragge, a pupil of Mr. Sharp, after the original portrait engraved by Vertue, from a painting by J. B. Closterman. The letters N. P. in the original Portrait are not retained in the copy. If we mistake not, these initials might have afforded Mr. Walmsley, the proprietor of the Work, with a clue to elucidate the Author's history. N. P. we believe stand for Notary Public. Now, a Notary Public must have been a man of some eminence in his day. Would it not be possible even at this time to discover who were the "Sureties of Puckle ;" and to follow the clue by seeking out their descendants? Possibly the original painting by Closterman may still exist.

The Advertisement concludes in Puckle's own words, as appended to the third and subsequent editions: "Go, little book, and shew the fool his face,

[case;

The knave his picture, and the sot his Tell to each youth what is, and what's [wit." And teach to us as want, sobriety and

not fit,

lumes. One is, the blessing, even to the Sovereign, of a Constitutional Monarchy; the second, the wrong Education of Princes. Of the Monarchs recorded in these volumes, one was an able monster of vice, who, besides guilt not to be mentioned, introduced a minion to the bed of his Queen, whose son, his successor adopted through hatred of the real heir, was expelled the throne on account of fatuity and illegitimacy. The other was, by the arts of an unprincipled Princess, who wished to retain the Royal Power, introduced purposely into early debauchery, that his constitution and intellects might be prematurely destroyed. Disgusting as is this picture, it is very instructive; for, by exhibiting some leading causes of royal disaster, it may produce a removal of them. We have a laudable custom in this Country, of never trusting the care of a lunatic to the heir apparent of his estate; and such a measure, (in England unnecessary), would be eligibly adopted, with respect to Royal Infants, in some of the Continental Courts.

It has been the fashion recently to suppose, that imbecility ensues after certain periods in families of Royal rank. We apprehend that this opinion proceeds from an estimate of talents, taken purely in reference to capacity for business. The education of Royalty has been too much limited to taste, accomplishments, and feeble innocence. We think that energy is to be inculcated; and, without presuming to dictate the particular plan, we humbly conceive, that royal children should be deeply instructed, inter alia, in the Histories of Wise Kings, and that they should be familiarly acquainted with accounts of adversity, in situations of rank, originating through imprudence or vice. Proin this country, faction produces a vidence deduces good from evil; and, caution, which does of itself supersede much care; but in countries where liberty does not exist, the army, not the people, is the leading object of regard; and power, if it does not cover a multitude of sins, compels a prudential silence, and leaves no hope of advancement, by' popular estimation, only by service or sycophancy. Of course these Monarchs may have able, but seldom

upright

upright ministers, popular character being of trifling worth, and favour removing fear.

We are not very fond of Secret Memoirs. They mostly resemble the cruel reports of discarded servants, the fabrications of malice and contracted ideas, instead of that developement of the secret springs of political action which illustrates history. We do not see any sound reason for exposing Kings and Princes in an indelicate state of nudity, no more than their subjects, when no possible good (but probably much evil) can ensue to the publick from so doing: e. g. for instance, what is called the small talk of the great has been basely ridiculed, as denoting imbecility. We have been in the dinner society of Commanders in Chief, and have heard nothing pass their lips but light general conversation. The fact is, persons high in office are not to utter crude opinions, or say things, which, as coming from them would be quoted, and get into the Newspapers. "Dulce est desipere in loco," and that Louis is in England, the dining and drawing-rooms. We know the old jest, "Pilt, do you talk as much nonsense as ever ?" "I don't know. I do not hear so much." Talking lightly is only the result of vivacity. We must, however, commend Mr. Brown for producing a valuable and interesting book, without this base and vulgar illiberality. He speaks of vice as it deserves, but of failings only as they are causes of unhappy results, not from malignity, or mean hostility to greatness: but the peculiar felicity of his book is, that it is most minute in the details of those events, which from their magnitude and interest, we are naturally desirous to know in the fullest possible extent. The most able part of the Work is the History of Gustavus the Third: but to the Philosopher, who likes to see human nature in all its forms, the interesting narrative of Matilda, Queen of Denmark, the unfortunate sister of our venerable Sovereign, is a fine picture indeed of frailty, absolutely provoked by miserable situation, but mixed with English generosity and English spirit, highly characteristic of her Country. Mr. Brown, speaking of the arrest of Matilda, says,

“The Queen, like the Cherokee chief, though overpowered, was not subdued.

The King had kept them dallying so long, that Rantzau was afraid day-light would appear before he should be able Matilda to get the Queen removed. heard him say to Eichstedt, We must turning suddenly upon him, in a firm make haste it will soon be day;' and emphatic manner, she said, 'Miserable man, well may you dread the light. The deed of this night will for ever blacken your fame. Your fall will quickly fol low mine. My errors will be obliterated by my sufferings: the fair and the brave, the mild and the virtuous, will shed a tear over my sad destiny; whilst thou shalt perish unpitied, and be followed to thy tomb with execration. March, detested, hoary-headed traitor! lead me to my dungeon, lead me any where, so that mine eyes are spared thy hated presence.'" P. 142.

The Officer thus addressed was Count Rantzau, an old voluptuous nobleman, who was merely a tool in the affair; obliged to fly his country soon after, and in a few months killed in a duel at Avignon, by an English officer, who was determined to avenge the treatment of Matilda, which was coarse and violent. The Court was composed of voluptuaries. "It is consistent," says Mr. Brown, "with the decided character of Matilda to imagine, when she found her blood tainted with a loathsome dis ease by an imbecile and depraved husband, that every vestige of respect vanished," (p. 91.) and that the artful encouragement of this angry sentiment by the disloyal and treacherous Struenzce should occasion her fall, and his own just punishment.

In this Work there is also a most interesting Episode. Count Rantzau when 60 years old, bad a mistress only 20, taken from the opera. The ability, the heroism, the integrity, and the naiveté of this wonderful girl is a singular curiosity. Rantzau, in a fit of despair, had seized his pistols, which a faithful valet had unloaded, and had also communicated his apprehensions to Miss Livernet:

som, and throwing her arms round his neck, entreated him to leave Hamburgh, and not risk his life by a duel with this wretched parasite, who hoped for eclat and preferment as the reward of his insolence. "Your character for courage, my dear Count,' said the artful pleader (who marked the intended suicide, but glanced only at a due!), is too well establisbed to suffer by your refusing to meet every desperado who may dare to challenge you?' The Count, deceived in thinking Sophia Livernet was deceived, suffered her to return the pistols to the case, whence he had thus taken them. Kissing off the tear that glistened in her bright eyes, the volatile old Nobleman forgot, in the caresses of that fascinating girl, the dreadful purpose he had in view when she entered.....The accomplishments of Miss Livernet were not confined to her graceful dancing: she had a sweet voice, and was enthusiastically devoted to music. A pedal harp stood in the room, and some music books lay strewed on a table. She took her seat at the harp, and played some plaintive German airs, accompanied by her dulcet voice, that rapidly drove away the melancholy which had filled the Count's bosom, who was a votary of Apollo, as well as of Venus. Fascinated by the skill and pathos of the fair girl, the enraptured Nobleman clasped her in his arms, and said, with vehemence, Sophia! thou art dearer to me than all my possessions beside! Say, my beloved, how can I recompense thee? Speak boldly, for were it to make thee Countess Rantzau, I would not refuse.' Smiling at his gallantry, and perhaps exulting in the power of beauty and music, she said,Promise me, then, upon your word and honour, never more, be your trials what they may, to think of suicide.' The Count was amazed. In a moment he recollected the circumstance of his pistols being unloaded, when he thought to have found them charged; and he felt that to her vigilance, he was indebted for his life. For some moments he was unable to speak. At last, he said, in a solemn tone, 'I promise thee, noblest of women, never to raise my hand against my life; and if you will accept that hand, thou shalt be my Countess."

"Sophia thanked him for the first part of his promise; and with ineffable sweetness told him, she would rather possess his love as his mistress, than run the risk of being despised as his wife. 'Reflect, my Lord, said she, upon the ridicule and disgrace you must eacounter were you to marry me, and have a tailor for your father-in-law; I should

་

be cursed as a wicked, cunning jade; and ten to one, if you died first, but your heirs would find means to annul the marriage, and strip me of my fine title! No, my dear Count, I dare not venture to become your wife. Only yesterday morning, dressed as a country girl, with a basket of flowers, I followed amongst three or four blooming lasses into your august presence. Because I had changed the colour of my hair, rouged my cheeks, and learnt my plaat Dicitsch [Low German] pretty well, my sagacious Lord did not know me; yet you gave me the preference; kissed me till I trembled for my rouge; and told me to be at the back door at eight o'clock; and here, your excellency, are the necklace and the ear-rings that you then gave me.' The Count could scarcely believe his eyes, What the devil does all this mean?' said he, Were you indeed the flower girl, whose bewitching eyes and well-formed bosom caught my attention?' 'Yes, indeed, my Lord! I am that very girl, over whose virtue you thought to triumph by tempting her avarice-As your mistress, my Lord Count, I can bear these youthful sallies; but as a Countess, I should perhaps trouble you with complaints or remonstrances. I might say, if at twenty years of age, I were content with a lover of threescore, I could not tell why my husband required a dozen flower girls to attend his toilette every morning, and should soon offend you; and shall therefore never accept the honour of being your Countess.' He laughed heartily at her lively wit. No longer thinking of Matilda, the portraits, or of suicide, he that day gave himself up to the fascinating girl, who stepped a minuet more gracefully than any woman in Denmark; and to please the Count, exerted her talents to the utmost. She put on the costume in which the day before she had beguiled him of his trinkets! She sung, she danced, she played; she encouraged him to smoke. He drank a whole bottle of Chateu Margeau. At last he sung some favourite duets with his attractive mistress; and swore that he was still the happiest man alive; and never more would suffer the blue devils to get the upper hand of him.” Pp. 207-211.

We have made this copious extract, because we believe that nine married women out of ten, would have read the Count a mere lecture on the occasion, and thus perhaps have expedited the suicide. Did married women consider the power of everlasting good humour, and playful blandishment, like this in

genious

genious girl, infidelity would be more rare, conjugal happiness would not fluctuate, and their power be supreme, held only by silken chains, yet as strong as adamant!

8. Letters of a Prussian Traveller, interspersed with numerous Personal Anecdotes, descriptive of a Tour through Sweden, Prussia, Austria, Hungary, Istria, the Ionian Islands, Egypt, Syria, Cyprus, Rhodes, the Morea, Greece, Calabria, Italy, the Tyrol, the Banks of the Rhine, Hanover, Holstein, Denmark, Westphalia, and Holland. By John Bramsen, Esq. 2 vols. 8vo. Colburn.

IT appears from the preface to this interesting Work, that the tour in question was accomplished within the short period of two and twenty months, and we fully agree with Mr. Bramsen, who observes in his preface," when the Reader considers the immense extent of the route, and the importance of many of the places visited, he will not expect that an equally minute description of all should be given." The Work, however, possesses many genuine claims to public patronage, and presents a variety of ingenious remarks and novelties which had escaped the attention of several celebrated travellers who had previously visited the same

scenes.

THE PRINCESS OF WALES. "You must doubtless have heard of a certain illustrious visitant, who this season has chosen Naples for her winter residence, and who, it is understood in the higher circles, is not less pleased with the society of this enchanting capital, than with, the attention shewn to her by his Neapolitan Majesty Joachim Murat, who spares no pains to make her abode in his kingdom agreeable. The Queen is said not to be on equally friendly terms with her illustrious guest, the cause of which some attribute to her Majesty's want of hospitality, others to those fanciful whims in which the great are too prone to indulge themselves.

"The palace of the illustrious personage is splendid, and delightfully situated at the Chiaja, and a guard of honour is stationed, by order of the King, at the entrance of her mansion. Her residence in this capital certainly contributes not a little to enliven its society, as she gives dinner parties every day, and a ball once a-week. Mr. Stanhope, Mr. Maxwell, and myself, had the honour of being presented to her by the Honourable Mr.

Craven, who acts as first chamberlain. We were ushered into a spacious and elegant apartment, where we found a large circle, mostly composed of Neapolitan nobility of both sexes, together with some English of distinction.

"I had the honour of dining with this illustrious traveller, and found the society mostly composed of English. Besides those belonging to the establishment, were the Earl and Lady Landaff, the Marquis of Sligo, the Honourable Montague Mathew, Madam Falconnet, Mr. and Mrs. Proctor, Mr. Coffin, Mr. French, and Mr. Sauvayre.

"The ball on the 7th January was particularly splendid, and was attended by the whole court, as well as all the first society in the place. Many English ladies of rank excited general admiration, as well by the beauty of their persons as by the elegance of their manners, in both which particulars they formed a pleasing contrast to the Neapolitan ladies.

"At ten o'clock his Majesty arrived : the Queen was expected, but it was reported that she was prevented from being present by indisposition. Murat was attended by a long retinue of courtiers, all decked out in embroidered coats, to whom he formed a striking contrast, being simply dressed in a plain green coat with white mother-o'-pearl buttons, and a white waistcoat; his shoes were tied with ribband, and he wore no decorations; his mustachios were large and black, and his hair hung loose over his shoulders without any powder. was the dress of this great sovereign, which it must be confessed was quite in character.

Such

"After he had kissed the hand of the illustrious hostess, he walked about the saloon, and conversed with many of the ladies, particularly with the Duchess, de Gallo, whose husband is his prime minister. Lady Landaff and Lady Oxford also drew a large share of his attention. Murat is considered by the ladies as graceful in his manners and studious to please all, and appears to be quite a Chevalier Francois, till he opens his mouth, when the charm is at once dissolved. Vulgar oaths seem familiar to him, nor did he restrain himself in the use of them even when conversing with women of the first rank: so disgusting was this to many present, and even to his suite, that I heard several of them make their remarks upon it.

"A Neapolitan nobleman near me was bold enough to make several ill-natured observations: among the rest be expressed his surprise that a certain illustrious personage should dress à la

Fran

6

Francoise, and not after the fashion of her own country; he also wondered at her affability in waltzing with strangers. Being desirous of breaking off this conversation, which was neither pleasant nor becoming, I retired to the other side of the saloon, but he soon followed me, and continued his observations.5 Pray Sir,' said he, is it customary in England for the pages to waltz in company with the illustrious Personages they attend? I am surprized that the young protégé does not dance with a lady of his own age; instead of which he chooses one of the best dancers in the ball-room, without any regard to the disparity of her years."

9. Narrative of an Expedition to explore the River Zaire, usually called the Congo, in South Africa, in 1816, under the direction of Capt. J. H. Tuckey, R. N. To which is (are) added, the Journal of Professor Smith; some general Observations on the Country and its Inhabitants; and an Appendix, containing the Natural History of that Part of the Kingdom of Congo through which the Zaire flows. Published by Permission of the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty. 4to, pp. 498, and XIV. Plates. Murray.

OF this ill-fated expedition to the Congo, the melancholy catastrophe of which has added so largely to the catalogue of martyrs to the spirit of African discovery,

"It may not, perhaps, be too much to say, that there never was, in this or in any other country, an expedition of discovery sent out with better prospects or more flattering hopes of success, than the one in question; whether it be considered as to the talents and zeal of the persons selected to carry the objects of the voyage into execution, or the preparations that were made for rendering the means of executing it efficient, and for the health and comfort of those who had embarked in it. Yet, by a fatality that is almost inexplicable, never were the results of an expedition more melancholy and disastrous.

66

Captain Tuckey, Lieut. Hawkey, Mr. Eyre, and ten of the Congo's crew, Professor Smith, Mr. Cranch, Mr. Tudor, and Mr. Galwey, in all eighteen persons, died in the short space of less than three months which they remained in the river, or within a few days after leaving the river. Fourteen of the above-mentioned were of the party of thirty, who set out on the land journey beyond the cataracts, the other four were attached on board the Congo; two died in the

passage out, and the serjeant of marines at the hospital at Bahia, making the total number of deaths amount to 21.

"This great mortality is the more extraordinary, as it appears from Capt. Tuckey's journal that nothing could be finer than the climate, the thermometer never descending lower than 600 of Fahrenheit during the night, and seldom exceeding 76° in the day-time; the atmosphere remarkably dry; scarcely a shower falling during the whole of the journey; and the sun sometimes for three or four days not shewing himself sufficiently clear to enable them to get an observation."

The following biographical sketch (as well as those of Lieut. Hawkey, Professor Smith, Mr. Cranch, Mr. Galwey, &c. which we cannot insert) is well worth the Reader's notice:

"James Hingston Tuckey, the youngest son of Thomas Tuckey, esq. of Greenhill, near Mallow, was born in 1776, went to sea in 1791, served on board the Suffolk as Master's-mate at the capture of Trincomallee, when he received a slight wound in his left arm; and assisted at the surrender of Amboyna, 'famous,' as he observes in a letter to his friends, for Dutch cruelty and English forbearance.' Here, when in the act of right arm. firing a gun, it burst, and broke his board,' he writes, I was obliged to offiHaving no surgeon on ciate for myself, and set it in a truly sailor-like fashion, so that in a week after, it was again obliged to be broken, by the advice of the surgeon.' For his exertions in quelling a mutiny which broke out in the Suffolk, bearing the flag of Rear-admiral Rainier, that Officer appointed him acting Lieutenant. While at Madras in a prize, he volunteered into the Sybille, on intelligence being received of the French frigate La Forte, cruizing in the Bay of Bengal and in the gallant action which ensued, Lieut. Tuckey commanded on the forecastle. In 1799 he was sent with dispatches to Admiral Blankett, then commanding in the Red Sea. Here the excessive heat seems to have laid the foundation of a complaint which never left him. may surprize you (he writes from Bombay) to hear me complain of heat, after six years broiling between the tropicks; but the hottest day I ever felt, either in the East or West Indies, was winter to the coolest one we had in the Red Sea. The whole coast of Araby the Blest, from Babelmandel to Suez, for 40 miles inland, is an arid sand, producing not a single blade of grass, nor affording one drop of fresh water; that which we

:

'It

drank