"

When Voltaire retired, then would Rousseau give free vent to all his rage against his arch rival, till he would exhaust all the abusive vocabulary of the French language in expressing his wrath, exclaiming, Oh, le vieux singe, le scelerat, le coquin! (Oh, the old monkey, the knave, the rascal!) until he was fatigued with the fury of his own eloquence."

We are afterwards told, in perfect keeping with the Curtius and Tussaud school, that Voltaire was very tall and thin, with a very small face, which had a shrivelled appearance; that he wore a large flowing wig, was mostly dressed in a brown coat with gold lace at the button-holes; that he had a long thin neck, together with other particulars of his costume and person. Rousseau, on the contrary, is described as being below the middle height, and inclined to be stout, patronising a wig with curls, something like that worn by the coachmen at this day of old-fashioned families in England. These and many other more minute and lengthened details of outward appearance abound in the work before us, to which we would direct the attention of all those who may be inclined to say, Show me a man's coat and I will show you his mind.

Madame Tussaud's talents and residence in Paris were destined to bring her into such notice as connects her history in a very striking degree with the great and frightful catastrophes which at the Revolution distracted France and appalled the world. We are told that among the different members of the royal family, who were often accustomed to call upon M. Curtius, and to admire his works, was Madame Elizabeth, the King's sister; and as she took a great fancy for the art of modelling in wax, she engaged Madame T. not only to teach her, but to reside with her at the palace of Versailles. It is almost funny to think of the use to which the Princess seems particularly to have devoted the wax work of her hands.

"She was very fond of modelling in wax figures of Christ, the Virgin Mary, and other holy subjects, many of which she gave away to her friends, But one of her occupations strongly exemplifies the temper of the times. It was much the custom, if any person was afflicted in the arm or leg, to send a representation of the limb affected to some church; which is still a frequent practice in France, particularly in the provinces, hoping that the saint to whom it might be dedicated would effect a cure, or intercede with a higher power to restore the member to its pristine vigour. Madame Elizabeth, therefore, with pious zeal, would often model in wax the legs and arms of decrepit persons, who desired it, which were afterwards suspended at the churches of St. Genevieve, St. Sulpice, and des Capucins du Marché des enfans rouge. What were the effects of these remedies, Madame Tussaud did not state, nor was it the business of the biographer to inquire."

Of this unfortunate Princess the present volume contains many favourable testimonies, in regard, not only to her religious observances, but her charitable doings. We should take her to have been a

weak-minded, well-meaning person from all we have read,-a monument, in fact, of that degeneracy of intellect and fatuity of purpose which characterised the decrepitude of a family doomed to extinction and final forgetfulness, we believe. Think of scenes, personages, and performances as given in the following and faithful, but by no means novel representations, disfiguring and rendering imbecile the government of a mighty empire.

Amongst the various descriptions of fêtes and entertainments which took place at Versailles, Madame Tussaud states, that none had a more beautiful effect than those which were given on fine summer evenings, when the gardens were illuminated, and the waters playing; the variegated lamps were so introduced about the marble fountains, that they appeared as if mingled with the waters, communicating to their bright silver sheets all the resplendence of the prismatic colours which everywhere sparkled, as they reflected thousands of rays, which were emitted from innumerable lights, shedding their lustre in as many tints as the rainbow could describe. The most beautiful echoes also filled the air, produced from silver horns, played by skilful musicians, who were judiciously placed in the numerous arbours, bowers, and grottos, with which the gardens abound; the melodious tones from one horn were scarcely suffered to melt in air, before its fading note was heard from an opposite grove, gradually swelling into its round and fullest force, then gently dying away, until lost in the breeze, or hushed by the sound of falling waters, till again the ear would catch the more powerful notes of horns, playing together in parts, and ending in a continued succession of the most harmonious strains. Hundreds of orange trees were placed at certain intervals throughout the gardens, scenting the air with most delicious perfumes. Is it, then, surprising, that as many as a hundred thousand persons have been present at the same time to witness such a spectacle, where, in fact, several senses at once were gratified ?— the sight, which was completely dazzled by the number of brilliant objects which, on all sides, were presented to the view; the hearing, by the exquisite sounds which, without intermission, were ever filling the air with their melodious notes, whilst the scent was greeted by the exquisite odours arising from beds of flowers, and the blossoms of the orange and myrtle, which were distributed in profusion around: in fact, a stranger, on first entering these elysian gardens, appeared as it were bewildered with delight, and as if transported to some fairy scene of enchantment.

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During the interval of the dances, whilst the fair were reposing from the fatigue of pleasure, then was the moment for the accomplished courtier to display the powers of his art, in an age when compliment, wit, and repartee were considered as qualifications indispensable for those admitted within the precincts of the royal saloons; all essayed their utmost efforts to outshine each other in the delicacy of their flattery, and in every finesse of gallantry; thus, while the lady listened to her soi disant adorer, her countenance, glowing with delight, would bespeak the tale to which she lent an ear, ever calculated to raise her in her own estimation, whilst the attitude and gesticulation of her elegant admirer alone would proclaim the theme of his eloquence. Groups such as these then filled the drawingrooms; and those who breathed the soft balm of adulation were themselves

as gratified as could be their fair and susceptible auditors, whilst an expression of joyous feeling beamed from every feature, and 'all went merrily as a marriage bell.' Alas, poor deluded beings! how little did they think, that the splendid suite of apartments, with their gilded cornices and painted ceilings, filled with beings on whom every artificial aid had been lavished to endow them with grace and elegance, clothed in drapery, glittering with embroidery and jewels, in a few short months would be polluted by the vulgar tread of the lowest wretches which the dregs of Paris could disgorge, of ruffians of the coarsest mien, who, with bare and bloodstained arms, vociferating their hideous yells, bellowing from room to room, with horrid oaths and imprecations, calling for revenge upon the royal inmates of the palace, turned that which had so late been a scene of revelry and pleasure into one of brutal riot and slaughter: yet such was the fact; the burdens upon the people, and the bondage in which they were held by the nobles, became insufferable; the string was too tightly drawn, and at length it snapped, and no powers then could re-unite the rebel cords, once set free; anarchy followed, and, too late, the oppressors saw their error, and that they had carried their tyranny one point too far."

But what was the condition of the husbandman, the tradesman, the payer of taxes, in those days of court revelry and splendour? Why, the peasantry were, as Mr. Hervé has justly remarked, in the last stage of misery and deprivation. An English author, who travelled in France at that period, states, that he has seen a plough drawn by a wretched horse, a cow, an ass, and a goat, whilst a peasant, without shoes or stockings, guided it, as a half-naked urchin was endeavouring to whip his team forward. So much for strong contrasts and the seeds of revolution. But we mean not to be political but anecdotical. Let us see what Madame T. has to say of the Bastille and Robespierre.

"The sensation excited by the capture of a prison, with which were associated such ideas of horror, may be easily imagined, and all Paris were flocking to visit the dungeons, upon which, for ages, no one could reflect without shuddering at the thoughts of those who were there doomed to pass their lives, without the hope of ever again being permitted to enjoy the blessings of day. Amongst others who were induced to visit those melancholy mementos of despotism and tyranny, Madame Tussaud was prevailed upon to accompany her uncle and a few friends for that purpose; and whilst descending the narrow stairs, her foot slipped, and she was on the point of falling, when she was saved by Robespierre, who, catching hold of her, just prevented her from coming to the ground; in the language of compliment observing, that it would have been a great pity that so young and pretty a patriot should have broken her neck in such a horrid place. How little did Madame Tussaud then think that she should, in a few years after, have his severed head in her lap, in order to take a cast from it after his execution. He was accompanied by Collot-d'Herbois and Dupont, who had come upon the same errand. They afterwards visited many of the cells, which were all that was loathsome and disgusting, being about eight feet square, and extremely low. They then proceded to VOL. II. (1838.) NO. 11.

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examine the small bedstead and straw mattrass, which had been left as they were found on the capture of the prison; one chair and table, on which stood a pitcher, formed the rest of the furniture; a damp fœtid smell prevailing, in every respect nauseous to the senses.

"After recognising M. Curtius, and exchanging a few words with him, Robespierre harangued the people, as nearly as Madame Tussaud can remember, to this effect: Alas! (mes enfans) how severe a lesson do we now receive from these gloomy dungeons by which we are surrounded, and in which so many of our fellow-creatures have been immured! That monarchical dominion needs for its support the misery and persecution of such individuals whose virtuous minds have dared to resist the current of oppression, has been, from time immemorial, but too evidently manifest. We are now treading that ground on which, for centuries, have perished the victims of despotism; then may these mansions of misery, these monuments of tyranny and injustice, act as incentives to every patriot to hurl down the banners of arbitrary power, whilst every man shall lend a hand in raising the standard of liberty and independence, and boldly assert his natural rights!

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After visiting many different cells, they arrived at that where the Comte de Lorge had been confined, when Robespierre again burst forth into an energetic declamation against kings, exclaiming, Let us for a while reflect on the wretched sufferer who has been just delivered from a living entombment, a miserable victim to the caprice of royalty; and can we calmly behold such scenes, and are we so pusillanimous as to suffer their repetition without exerting all our physical and moral strength for their repression? No, Frenchmen! the torch is kindled which shall light the minions of aristocracy to their earthly tomb, and the heart of every lover of his country is inspired with an ardent zeal to maintain the cause of freedom, or to perish in the contest. For what is the value of our lives, if they can only be sustained by the sacrifice of our liberties? The orator was followed by Collot-d'Herbois and Dupont who also displayed their eloquence to the same effect, and were highly applauded by their auditors."

The artistic sort of employment upon which Madame T. has been so often engaged, may be illustrated and accounted for by her narrative as given by Mr. Hervé concerning the death of the monster Marat.

"An heroic girl, named Charlotte Corday, travelled from Normandy to Paris to rid her country of the monster Marat. When arrived in the capital, she was not quite resolved which should be her victim: Robespierre and Danton were nearly as odious to her mind as Marat, but the latter and his atrocities were more known in the provinces, particularly in the struggle which had taken place in the suppression of the insurrection in Cavados, where the cruel effects of his suggestions had been most severely felt. Her first attempt to see Marat proved unsuccessful; but on the second, although his housekeeper, a young woman who had lived with him, refused to admit her, yet Marat, who was in his bath, hearing the voice of Charlotte Corday, and having had a letter from her stating she had intelligence of importance to communicate, ordered that she might be uffered to enter. She first amused him with an account of the deputies

at Caen, when he said, 'They shall all go to the guillotine.' To the guillotine!' exclaimed she; and as he caught up a pencil to write the names of the offenders, Charlotte Corday plunged a knife into his heart. Help, my dear!' he cried, and his housekeeper obeyed the call, and a man, who was near, rushed in and knocked down the avenger of her country with a chair, whilst the female trampled upon her. A crowd was instantly attracted to the spot by the uproar, when Charlotte Corday rose, looking around her with a composed and dignified air; and some members of the section arriving, they prevented her from being torn to pieces by the mob. Her beauty, her courage, and her calm demeanour interested the authorities in her behalf, and they conducted her to prison, protecting her from insult.

"As has already been stated, Madam Tussaud was brought to the scene of action a short time after it had happened, and took the cast from the demon's features, some gens d'armes attending her to keep off the crowd. She visited Charlotte Corday in the Conciergerie Prison, and found her a most interesting personage; she was tall and finely formed; her countenance had quite a noble expression; she had a beautiful colour, and her complexion was remarkably clear; her manners were extremely pleasing, and her deportment particularly graceful. Her mind was rather of a masculine order; fond of history, she had made it much her study, and naturally became deeply interested in the politics of her country; was a great admirer of pure republican principles, and thought she perceived the same feelings in the Girondins, to which party she became enthusiastically attached, and imbibed a proportionate detestation for the Mountain; hence the success of that resolution which brought her to the scaffold. She had been affianced to Major Belsance, a remarkably fine-looking young man, who was in the royal guards, and assassinated in one of the popular commotions in 1789. She wrote a letter to her father, begging pardon for what she had done, and stating, she believed it to be her duty, bidding him remember, that Corneille observed that the crime, and not the scaffold constitutes the shame. She conversed freely with Madame Tussaud, and even cheerfully, and ever with a countenance of the purest serenity. During her trial she displayed the same self-possession, avowed every thing without reserve. When conveyed to the scaffold, some few of the rabble abused her, but far more pitied and admired her, and many women shed tears as she passed. The smile of happiness lighted her features all the way to the place of execution; and when the last preparations were performing, as the handkerchief was withdrawn, and discovered her bosom, the blush of modesty suffused her cheek, but she never once displayed the slightest emotion of fear. As soon as her head was severed. the executioner held it up and buffeted it, an action which was witnessed by the people with shuddering. The remains were conveyed to the Madeleine, where Madame Tussaud took a cast from her face. Charlotte Corday was of a highly respectable family, and descended from Corneille; some first cousins of hers were still living a few years since at Argentan, in Normandy. When Marat's effects were examined, an assignat for five francs was found to be all the money he possessed; his housekeeper, therefore, whom, as Chaumette expressed himself, Marat had taken to wife one fine day before the face of the sun,' was considered as his widow, and was maintained at the charge of the state. He appears to have been