to him as a philosopher, he never, for a moment, forgot the duty he owed his country as a patriot; and that he objected to attend the levee of her bitterest enemy. On the other hand, it is said, that Napoleon never expressed any wish to receive the English chemist; and those who seek in the depths for that which floats upon the surface, have racked their imaginations in order to discover the source of this mysterious indifference; but I apprehend that we have only to revert to the political state of Europe in the year 1813, and the problem will be solved.

Amongst the reasons for supposing that the emperor must have felt ill disposed towards the English philosopher, the following story has been told; which, as an anecdote, is sufficiently amusing; and I can state upon the highest authority, that it is moreover perfectly true.

It is well known that Buonaparte, during his whole career, was in the habit of personal intercourse with the savans of Paris, and that he not unfrequently attended the sittings of the Institute. Upon being informed of the decomposition of the alkalies, he asked, with some impetuosity, how it happened that the discovery had not been made in France? -"We have never constructed a Voltaic battery of sufficient power," was the answer. Then," exclaimed Buonaparte, "let one be instantly formed, without any regard to cost or labour."

The command of the emperor was of course obeyed; and, on being informed that it was in full action, he repaired to the laboratory to witness its powers; on his alluding to the taste produced by the contact of two metals, with that rapidity which characterized all his motions, and before the attendants could interpose any precaution, he thrust the extreme wires of the battery under his tongue, and received a shock which nearly deprived him of sensation. After recovering from its effects, he quitted the laboratory without making any remark, and was never afterwards heard to refer to the subject.

It is only an act of justice to state that Davy, during his residence in the French capital, so far from truckling to French politics, never lost an opportunity of vindicating with temper the cause of his own country. At the Théâtre de la Porte Saint Martin, a melodrame was got up, with the avowed intention of exposing the English character to the execration of the audience. Lord Cornwallis was represented as the merciless assassin of the children of Tippoo Saib. Davy was highly incensed at the injustice of the representation, and abruptly quitted the theatre in a state of great indignation.

Whatever objections might have existed in his mind, as to his attending a levee of the emperor, they did not operate in preventing his being presented to the empress at Malmaison; but he could not be prevailed upon to appear, upon that occasion, in any other than a morning dress; and it was not until after repeated entreaty, and the assurance that he would not be admitted into the Salle de reception, that he consented to exchange a pair of half-boots that laced in front, and came over the lower part of his pantaloons, for black silk stockings and shoes. His constant answer to the remonstrances of his friends was, "I shall go in the same dress to Malmaison as that in which I called upon the Prince Regent in Carlton House."

His Death.

With that restlessness which characterizes the disease under which Sir Humphry Davy suffered, he became extremely desirous of quitting Rome, and of establishing himself at Geneva. His friends were naturally anxious to gratify every wish; and Lady Davy therefore preceded him on the journey, in order that she might prepare for his comfortable reception at that place. Apartments were accordingly in readiness for him at L'Hotel de la Couronne, in the Rue du Rhone; and at three o'clock on the 28th of May, having slept the preceding evening at Chambery, he arrived at Geneva, accompanied by his brother, Mr. Tobin, and his servant.

At four o'clock he dined, ate heartily, was unusually cheerful, and joked with the waiter about the cookery of the fish, which he appeared particularly to admire; and he desired that, as long as he remained at the hotel, he might be daily supplied with every possible variety that the lake afforded. He drank tea at eleven, and having directed that the feather bed should be removed, retired to rest at twelve.

His servant, who slept in a bed parallel to his own, in the same alcove, was, however, very shortly called to attend him, and he desired that his brother might be summoned. İ am informed that, on Dr. Davy's entering the room, he said, "I am dying," or words to that effect; "and when it is all over, I desire that no disturbance of any kind may be made in the house; lock the door, and let every one retire quietly to his apartment.” He expired at a quarter before three o'clock without a struggle.

Our limits prevent our giving further extract; but it is a work which should be read again and again by every lover of science.

LITERATURE FOR LADIES!!!

We have on our table four or five-in fact, all the works intended for the service of the Fashionable world! Fashionable did we say? verily, if we take professions for any thing, we may add, periodicals got up purposely for Ladies. From these we shall select the very best specimens their pages will afford, "for us and for our readers," and begin at the most important; that is, the dearest-a work intended-" heaven save the mark"-for the English nobility! This splendid miscellany devotes one-fourth of its pages to the notice of a book, which we doubt exceedingly if any lady of character would be reconciled to mention, yet it is largely quoted for their instruction. We may be squeamish in these matters; our ignorance may mislead us a little; for we have a kind of misgiving, a foolish prejudice, perhaps, which leads us to think that the wilful placing of the contents of a profligate work before females, is not very judicious. If we be wrong, perhaps some of our readers-and they are not few-may correct us. There is an oldfashioned fancy too, clinging to us-and we cannot get rid of it-which increases our unwillingness to allow such trash to be addressed to what our elder, and perhaps wiser contemporary calls "fair youthful readers." But that our said contemporary has no such qualms of conscience, is pretty evident; for after devoting the aforesaid quarter of the work to a subject which we would allow neither a wife nor a daughter of our own to read, we have the following classical and elegant address, as the preliminary to a few pages on the frivolities of Paris.

"Health and fair greeting to our gentle subscribers;" may every joyful hope the opening year brings to them, be amply realized, and all their fears prove but "such stuff as dreams are made of." And lastly, as the crown of our good wishes to our fair youthful readers, may they, from every festive scene graced by their presence,

"bring home hearts by dozens!"'

And, in truth, they are likely to have an opportunity of doing execution, for it is many years since there was so numerous an assemblage of people of fashion in London so early in the season.

Far be it from us to assume that we are right, and our contemporary wrong; we give him the benefit of his own words, lest in attempting to convey his sentiments in our simple way, we should detract from the dignified style of his composition.

We take up another work, which, as we presume price is a criterion with many, stands next in rank. Of the editor, it is difficult to speak, and perhaps unfair to judge, because we have heard it is a female; therefore, we select an article which is the joint work of "her Majesty's Servants" (as the Managers say), the EDITOR AND PROPRIETOR. It is more candid, more gallant, and more considerate on our parts, to select the following scrap, because it not only embodies all the editor's ability, but all the proprietor's discrimination; and, moreover, all the literary talent that their united judgment deemed it necessary to secure, on the momentous and truly important occasion.

Madam,

We are encouraged by your Majesty's permission to lay at your royal feet the continued numbers, &c. &c.-a periodical which devotes itself to the elegant tastes and intellectual improvement of that sex, to which your Majesty affords so bright an example.

LONG MAY YOUR MAJESTY CONTINUE IN HAPPINESS to reign over us, the partner of a king, who by his attention to THEIR interests, has won the affection of HIS people; and THAT YOU MAY LONG CONTINUE in the enjoyment of every blessing and felicity, is the earnest PRAYER of Your Majesty's most humble, And most dutiful SUBJECTS and SERVANTS, THE EDITOR and PROPRIETOR.

Dec. 31, 1830.

Who can dispute with such an editor, and such a proprietor, and withal, such command of literary talent, the right, the capacity, the exclusive privilege, of directing the "elegant tastes," and the "intellectual improvement" of the Females of Great Britain? Some small poet has dared, "in mere spite," for an offence which he has received at the hands of " the Editor and Proprietor," to paraphrase the nursery rhymes of "Sing a Song of Sixpence ;" and actually wrote the following on the cover of one of the copies, at a public library :

"ode

99

Pure spite this; written in mere dudgeon, because they rejected some of his "to the moon." But disappointed authors will be spiteful, and what can we say or do? For our part, we think the dedication the cleverest thing in the book, which we have examined very carefully.

The next in rank, because it is the next in price, is devoted almost entirely to milliners, yet it is determined to be loyal. Only think of an ode to the King, in which, among other beauties, we have discovered the following couplet:

"In William's character the noblest lines

Of pure domestic love and virtue shines."

Really, when we meet with such discouraging literary excellence, we despair, so far as we are concerned, of improving either taste or literature. But, as if to crush us in our very outset, another periodical, and of less price than either, has carried all before it, with a coup de main. We dare not turn to a second page; the first has shown us how utterly we had mistaken what the ladies of England required. The extraordinary announcement which stares us in the face on the very opening of the book has-what?-Damped our ardour, shall we say? That would ill convey our feelings; it has taught us the utter hopelessness of competition with rivals like those we have encountered, and made us feel bitterly our inferiority. Good heaven, that we should have neglected the Christmas Pantomimes!!! those OCCURRENCES OF INTEREST! and now have the mortification to see in a work devoted to ladies, a triumphant announcement which operates as a death-blow to all our promised honours! Candour, however, demands that we should publish it, for we would be honest, even in defeat. "Our notice-" says our proud contemporary-" Our notice of the PANTOMIMES we trust they (the Ladies) will receive as a proof of our anxiety to report the latest OCCURRENCES OF INTEREST, and especially since (as we are convinced will be the case) OURS will be the only magazine in the kingdom that will contain any critique on them!!!"

What will become of us? We can plainly see there is but one course open. We must try to persuade our fair country women to believe that the Christmas Pantomimes are not "occurrences of interest;" that our King wants English odes, if odes be at all acceptable; that the Queen would rather have a Magazine of sound literary claims than a mere picture-book for her royal protection; and that works which aim at the highest class of literature and the advancement of the sex, are best entitled to their patronage; for unless we can accomplish this we are lost.

THE EDITOR'S ROOM.

OUR Correspondent, " Inquisitor," is right. It is "an unusual circumstance" for periodicals to review periodicals, except where they happen to be of a totally distinct class for literature, such as the various "Libraries" now publishing. "Inquisitor" is right, also, in supposing the Literary Gazette must have had a special retainer of the Royal Lady's Magazine. When a man goes out of his way to do any thing, be it for good or for bad, there is always some out-of-the-way motive in the background. With regard to our friend of the Gazette, the particular excellence which has made him so uncomfortable is as plain as the sun at noonday. Miss Letitia Elizabeth Landon was not only cradled in the Literary Gazette, but has been dry-nursed by it, ever since her poetical birth. Moreover, the said young Lady, and the Editor of the Literary Gazette, have occasionally written desperate verses to each other in its columns; and lastly, the Literary Gazette has proclaimed, any time these seven years, that there never was such a wonderful person as L. E. L. Well: turn to page 43 of the Royal Lady's Magazine, and read what we have had the audacity to write respecting this extraordinary young lady. True, we have not done as our friend of the L. G. does, said it is so, because we say so. On the contrary, we have empannelled our readers as a jury; we have stated our case, and submitted the evidence upon which we ask a verdict. If our evidence fail us, we shall of course be non-suited; but if it be conclusive, the jury will decide accordingly. Now it seems to us, that our friend of the L. G. is by no means pleased with this fair dealing, with this honest process, which puts the critic, as well as the author, upon his trial. It is coming to close quarters; it is stripping off the mask of pretension; it is an appeal to commonsense from uncommon and fulsome adulation. What! his pet poetess-his household deity-his " divine perfection of a woman"-to be told she is not equal to Homer or Shakspeare, and hardly upon a par with Milton!" Flat blasphemy, by this light!" A thousand times worse than the way in which his other pet, poor St. John Long," the female destroyer" (as we saw him designated the other day, in the placard of a penny life of him stuck upon a pole), has been treated. It is quite natural, therefore, that he should assure the public (see L. G. Jan. 8) that the Royal Lady's Magazine is "much of a muchness" (his own classic phraseology) with the other works devoted to female reading; that "the literary contents are commonplace;" that it is "poor drivelling work," &c. &c. Equally natural, too, is it, that he should remark," the Editor (viz., our august selves) sets up for a snappish critic;" clenching the remark with this emphatic exclamation, "Oh dear!" All this, we say, is quite natural in our friend of the L. G.; as natural as it would be in a knavish servant, who begins by railing at those who are themselves beginning to pry into his propensities. "Oh dear!" the cunning rogue would cry-" Oh dear! Well, come-that is very good-I suppose you mean to insinuate I am not honest! Bless us!-How snappish we are-Oh dear! But what do I care?" We shall only add, that we hope it will not seriously disturb the tranquillity of our friend of the L. G. when we state, that we are preparing an interesting paper upon sundry matters where our snappish disposition will be further displayed; but lest we should be too rabid, we promise its appearance before the dog-days.

We have already given offence in a departmennt of our work where, assuredly, it will be our fate to offend often in the same way. We have now lying before us a note from a bookseller, who complains that we reviewed a work which he has published "in a very unfair and ungenerous manner." Our answer is, that we expressed our opinions honestly and fearlessly; but as we know no art by which to convey, agreeably, disagreeable truths, we despair of ever pleasing an author while we tell him he writes badly, or a bookseller who learns, in the same sentence, that he has published nonsense. Once for all, let it be understood that we belong to no coterie of writers or publishers; that we have no literary pets to dandle, or feed with lollipop criticism; no reciprocity system of praise and be praised. Our course is straightforward. What we are enabled to think, by the help of Providence (who has vouchsafed to us some brains), we will declare. But there is no

thing infallible about us; so it will be the easiest thing in the world for those we scratch too roughly, to fly at once to the perennial consolation which every man carries about him, the certainty that he is traduced, in whatever falls short of his own estimate of himself.

1.-Lays from the East. By Robert Calder Campbell. London: Smith, Elder, and Co.

1831.

2. Annual Obituary for 1830. Longman and Co.

3.-The Art of Miniature Painting on Ivory. By Arthur Parsey. Longman and Co.

4.-An Epitome of the History of England.

G. Tiler.

5.-Bertha's Visit to her Uncle in England. 3 vols. Murray.

6.-Travels and Researches of Eminent English Missionaries. Kidd. 7.-Time's Telescope for 1831. Sherwood.

8.—A History of England. By Mrs. Markham. 2 vols. Murray. 9.-A Familiar Analysis of the Calendar of the Church of England." Effingham Wilson.

1.-This is an unpretending little volume, and deserves a lenient sentence. The author borrows from one of Cowper's letters a disqualifying character of his talents, where that amiable writer rates his own poetical powers much below their real standard. What Cowper, in the diffidence of his nature, and under the mor◄ bid depression of his spirits, said of himself, when he said, "I have no more right to the name of poet, than a maker of mousetraps has to that of engineer, &c.," the public voice, in his and our days, has contradicted; but when Mr. Campbell quotes this passage as descriptive of his verses, we are afraid we must compliment his candour at the risk of wounding his vanity, unless he be marvellously sincere in his opinion of himself. "Lays from the East" are among the thousand volumes which are printed one year and forgotten the next; and yet there is a sort of talent in them-just sufficient talent to make an author think he has more, and partial friends swear it. We can tell Mr. Campbell, it has been our fate to read worse poetry than his, that has been praised higher than we mean to praise him.

2.-This is as good a volume as any of the series. Last year, indeed, furnished ample matter for a work which depends for its interest on the death of great men. Of all the subjects, perhaps, the memoir of Sir Thomas Lawrence is managed the best, but it is altogether cleverly written.

3.-This is the work of a practical man, who has sought only to make his readers understand him, and has set all literary considerations at defiance. The art, which to some is a profession, is indulged in by many others to a considerable extent as an accomplishment; to both of these classes the work will be of infinite service.

4.-A very interesting tabular History of England, in which all the great features in our best chronological works are carefully preserved, and every event of importance recorded with dates, &c. It is a very noble specimen of typography by Cunningham and Salmon, and does great credit to the compiler.

5. These three volumes contain the journals of a young lady on a visit to a circle of highly intellectual relatives, who explain to her every object of her inquiry; and few works contain so much information on all those subjects which interest the female mind. General and natural history, geography, the fine arts, botany, and all the elegant accomplishments, are treated of in a fascinating, though simple style, and it is a lady's book for all ages.

6. A small volume of great interest, sufficiently well executed to make us wish that the author would complete his task, for assuredly he could find materials for three or four others on the same subject.