tale. Were we to do so it might not be unchangeable; at any rate it would not be in accordance, we imagine, with the opinion of every one who may peruse the account before us. Indeed its author or authors rather, (for, besides the person calling himself the Duke of Normandy, several other persons figure as writers in these pages,) cannot expect that any cautious and judicious individual whatever will give in his faith to the account without further light and evidence. It is over and over again asserted in the work that most important documents and proofs are withheld till the proper time for their production, viz. when a competent court is to try their validity and weight; nay, in more passages than one or two, a sort of request that judgment be suspended till such an opportunity occurs, is made, after which it is declared that even the present unbelieving sister of the Dauphin, the Duchess Angoulême, will instantly be convinced and converted.

The first part of the work consists of the Pretender's history, in outline, of himself. This extends to about a hundred and ten pages of the octavo. Then come " Documents and Reflections," which occupy about thrice as much space; and lastly there is a " Suppliment," extending to between two and three hundred pages,-the whole forming the most indigested and badly arranged mass we ever met with in the form of a book on one theme. Repetitions and recopyings are endless; and there is neither index nor table of contents, nor any thing like a systematic plan to guide the mind. Some, perhaps, may regard these circumstances as signs which no impostor would exhibit, and as proofs only of deeply and constantly sfelt truths; others may surmise that the design is, to bewilder the reader and poor reviewers like ourselves. We must be allowed, however, to state that when we find figuring in these pages and amongst the professed advisers and agents of the Pretender, the 'names of three French Advocates, besides a Confessor; especially when the language of the volume very often runs as that of a plural number, we, it might have been expected that some regard would have been paid to the simple artistic forms of book-making, Surely an Abbé and members of the French Bar might have done as much for the person whom they profess to adore as their lawful prince, as to have put his story into a becoming and forcible shape. Nor can we acquit the English editor of negligence, (it cannot be the want of ability,) for the translation is frequently ungrammatical. Then as to the typography, it is full of errors, in the slighter matters of letters and sometimes words. But this is not the worst sign of Iscarelessness or incompetency in correcting proof-sheets for there is such a disregard of the precise and accurate use of inverted commas, that it is often impossible to discern, without a waste of time, who the loquitor is. But to the volume, such as it is, intrinsically and 'externally, we now solicit some attention, and aècordingly begin with the Pretender's autobiography.

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Supposing his narrative to be true, and supposing that he has been subject to all the indignities which he describes, all the persecutions that have constantly tracked his steps seventeen years of his life having, as is alleged, formed one feature in his doom,

it would be unreasonable to expect from him a narrative displaying the graces of composition, or any thing but an earnest, la straightforward, and vigorous statement of facts. We cannot say that the detail as given is generally destitute of such marks: it has sometimes the air of simple honesty. Perhaps the following, while perfectly explicit and full of plainly expressed pledges, may be deemed puerile :

To A friend to good order, I hold the factious in abhorrence. Witness to fall the calamities that proud and rapacious beings have inflicted on my country, and on myself, I have judged them by their works; never shall I expect the happiness of France from those whose only design is to put themselves in the place of others; they wish for evil, because evil is the very nature and desire of their heart.

07£igo pdt "I am the enemy of all hypocrisy, and the friend of justice and and of truth; I here, therefore, declare to all those who call themselves my friends, hoping hereafter to obtain a high office in the state, as a reward for their' pre1tended friendship, that they deceive themselves; for, I ask for nothing but my name and my civil inheritance. If it should be the will of Divine Pro1 vidence ever to place me on the throne of my fathers, never shall hypocrisy or intrigue receive the reward due only to merit; but I repeat, I ask for nothing but my civil inheritance, that is to say, the private property which belonged to the royal family of France, before the first revolution. S.No government has the right to deprive me of this inheritance. On this point, I shall have in my behalf the suffrages of all Frenchmen, because the question is a great act of national justice, and the French nation desire nothing but justice. These are my opinions, they spring from the sincerity of my heart; I need not say that I desire to proclaim them openly. I entreat, then, all those who call themselves my friends from motives of interested policy, to withdraw themselves from me and from my affairs. I brepeat it again; I will never expose the life of the least of my personal friends, for the sake of wearing a crown which is the most glorious on earth, in sight of all the world but which cannot be so to the orphan of the 28Templey Charles-Louis, Duke of Normandy."

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a szed of ad The narrative is intended, as the writer of it himself states, to prove that the child who died in the Temple was not the son of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, but that " I alone am the Duke loof Normandy, the true son of the Martyr King." The writer says eithat he perfectly remembers as far back as the time when the royal family quitted Versailles to fix their residence in Paris: and he then orgoes on to describe their movements, what occurred to them and all b the particulars, in an inventory-like-style, which, if true, ought to restablish for him the character of having one of the most retentive

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memories that the prodigies in that particular have ever developed. For example,

"Of all the people who were with me in the carriage, one only is still living, it is my sister. Will she have the culpable resolution to deny this fact, which no one in the world can know except her brother? At length, arrived at Paris, we were carried off by the people, and conducted to the Hotel-de-Ville. I ascended the stairs between my mother and Mme. Elizabeth; these tender friends led me by the hand into a large hall, which was already full of men, many of whom were drunk; we remained there till a late hour of the night; and, notwithstanding the tumultuous cries of the populace, during our passage from the Hotel-de-Ville to the Tuileries, I had fallen asleep in the carriage, on my mother's lap, and I was awoke by the cry: My son! my son! they have carried him away!' I replied • Mamma!' for in truth, I found myself in the hands of a stranger, who put me into the arms of a brother of Clery, valet de chambre to my sister, whose name was Hannet; I have such a perfect recollection of this faithful servant, that I remember, as if it had happened but yesterday, that he used to amuse my sister and myself in our childhood, with the sight of a magic lantern in the evening.

"I was then four years old. Hannet restored me to the tender solicitude of my excellent mother, who pressed me to her bosom and covered me with kisses."

True, the Pretender says, it is no doubt very easy, with a good memory, to relate that which has been written by others, respecting what passed at the period in question. But he adds,-" all those details which have remained unknown, and have never been published, they are the touchstone for the Duchess of Angoulême if she wishes to convince herself of the truth!" This indicates confidence at least; still the minute particulars referred to, we think, might possibly have been gathered from witnesses or still more fully from dextrous comparison and guessing. But in whatever way the truth presses, according to the Pretender's own showing, the Duchess of Angoulême is not only incredulous respecting his story, but has after numerous appeals forbidden any person to broach the subject of the writer's claims in her hearing. Samples of the Pretender's particularity will be found in what we now quote.

"The other details of this unhappy day are too well known for me to dwell upon them. The fact which I have just mentioned, proves sufficiently that I have forgotten nothing which happened in my presence; from this day forward, my mother was constantly in tears;-this day, which was the fore-runner of the 10th of August.

"It is clear then, that I perfectly remember the facts which I have transmitted to my sister, in proof of my identity. Amongst other questions, I have asked her, who was the person who slept in my room on the night of the 9th of August ?.... it was my mother, who came to seek some moments

of repose, and threw herself, for that purpose, on the bed of the person who sat up with me that night.

"The following day we became prisoners, for we quitted the Tuileries to go to the assembly, where we were soon shut up in a kind of prison. I had the more reason to consider it as such, because this hole had an iron grating: although Mme. de Tourzel, and the Princess de Lamballe, were shut up with us, it was still my tender mother who kept me in her arms, or on her lap; but the whole of this day I had eaten nothing, except a peach and a morsel of bread. I suffered still more from thirst, for the weather was very hot. Notwithstanding all the endeavours of my good mother, it was impossible to procure the least thing: at length one of our friends, it was the Minister of Justice, took us into another small room, that we might eat a rice soup and some chicken. My father, and mother, and the other persons who were with us, did not partake of our repast; my sister, even, only ate some soup; it was my good aunt, Mme. Elizabeth, who was with us, but she ate nothing. After this repast, we were taken back into the grated prison, where I soon fell asleep on the knees of my good mother. For the correctness of what I here state, I give as witnesses the Duchess of Angoulême, and the Ex-Minister of Justice, M. de Joly, who is still living."

The writer, according to his own story was at this time seven years and a half old, and the English editor will have it that memory generally extends to the age of four years. It must also be conceded that in the case of an ordinary memory, the events which the Dauphin was witness to, would make a deep impression; but whether such precise recollections, as we now give a specimen of, could be retained, is for our readers to say:

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My mother's room and my aunt's were separated by a wainscot par tition. On entering my mother's room, her bed was placed on the left, against this partition; my aunt's bed was on the right on entering her room, so that the two beds were separated only by this partition; mine was placed at the foot of that of my good and tender mother, who awoke at the slightest movement that I made in the night, to ask if I was not ill. My sister's bed was placed in the same manner in my aunt's room, near the window in the right hand corner. A small closet in the turret, like that in my father's apartment, completed our habitation. In my mother's room there was an arm-chair, the linen of which was green and the wood painted white. I mention this arm-chair because my father used fre quently to sleep in it for a short time after his dinner.

"I remained in this prison till the moment when I was delivered into the hands of Simon and his wife. Without wishing to excite the com passion of my readers or of those who will judge of my history, I shall not conceal that my cruel separation from my tender mother, my aunt and my sister, made me shed torrents of tears which the harshness of my jailers alone could force me to repress.

This is neither the place nor the time to reveal what tyranny made me suffer in this indescribable situation of my unhappy childhood. Without succour, without hope, without friends, I was still more unhappy

after the removal of Simon and his wife, who had already begun to treat me with less brutality. I was confined alone in the room, before occupied i by Cléry. As I have said, this room was then quite transformed into ac prison, the door which communicated with the dining room had been removed, and it had been replaced by a sort of stove, which was lighted from the little recess that I have mentioned. The windows were so closed, that I could not see clearly? The door of the turret which opened into Cléry's apartment, and in which was the closet, had been closed and a night table had been placed in my room, the smell of which became more - and more offensive to mejoon

**It has been said that a turning box had been made in the only remaining door, in which to place my food; this assertion is inaccurate; there was indeed a wicket, but it was only opened by my jailers, when they called me, in order to ascertain that I was still there: the door in which this wicket was, had served before as the entrance to my father's room, and it was by it they entered twice a day to bring me my food. After this removal, it was no longer human voices that I heard, but the howlings of ferocious beasts, who cried out to me almost every moment: Capet, wolf-cub, son of a viper, come, that I may see you.' During the night, even, I was scarcely asleep, when another cerberus would open the wicket, and force me to appear before him. Worn out with these perse. cutions I resolved to die rather than answer.

Je My prison contained myself, my bed, a chair, an oblong wooden table, underneath it a pitcher of water, and an unfurnished bedstead, which had been Cléry's. In this deplorable state no one thought of pro viding me with linen or other clothes, and soon devoured by vermin, and poisoned by the stench of my prison, I became seriously ill. My jailers and two municipal officers entered with some other persons, whom I did not know, and who I thought were doctors, for they questioned me, and entreated me to speak to them, and to tell them what I wanted. I made them no answer. I had many reasons for maintaining silence; and those reasons I have motives for not explaining here."

The manner in which the Pretender states, that he was removed from his assigned prison and the substitution of another boy, i5 particularly described. He says, that although there was no hope of deliverance by descending, it was contemplated and discovered that by making him ascend, and by temporally concealing him in the Tower of the Temple, the desired end might be realized. A dose of opium having been administered to him, he was lifted upd

"In this state, I saw a child which they substituted for me, in my bed, and I was laid in the basket, in which this child had been concealed, under my bed. I perceived, as if in a dream, that the child was only a wooden figure, the face of which was made to resemble mine,87 This substitution was effected at the moment when the guard was changed; the one who succeeded was contented with just looking at the child to certify my presence, and it was enough for him to have been à sleeping figure, whose face was like mine; my habitual silence contributed farther to strengthen the error of my new argus. In the mean time, I had lost