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The Correspondents of the EDINBURGH MAGAZINE and LITERARY
MISCELLANY are respectfully requested to transmit their Communications
for the Editor to ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & COMPANY, Edinburgh, or to
HURST, ROBINSON, & COMPANY, London; to whom also orders for the
Work should be addressed.

Printed by J. Ruthven & Sons.

To Correspondents.

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SOME time ago we received a very clever and piquant Essay " On Bulls," signed "Taurus ;" and we take shame to ourselves for not acknowledging it sooner. wicked spirit predominates in this writer's specilegia. We like him the better, however, that he has shown but small tenderness to ourselves; although we think he will admit, that he has not been so successful in poaching on our manor, as he expected. We give, as a specimen, the last bull in his collection, for which he is indebted to the Literary Gazette, June 22d; "We should have been glad to have given the account of the Chamois hunting ITSELF, which is interesting, and well described; we must, however, pass it by;" i. e., we "must pass by the Chamois hunting itself ! ! !"

The following, among other articles, are destined to appear in our next, and succeeding numbers: "Illustrations of Scottish Ballad Poetry, No. I.;" "The Witch of Edderton ;""Poetical Epistle to W. W. ;"" The Translation of the Italian of Lorenzo de' Medici-Quanto e bella giovanezza, &c. ;""The Charter of Thomas of Ercildoun;""The early Dramatic Writers, No. I. ;" "Songs of the Exile, &c. &c. ;""On the Influence of the Moon upon the Seasons;"" The Love Adventures of Francis Corkincap, Esq. Canto I. ;""Emendation of a passage in Macbeth ;" "Review of Simond's Travels in Switzerland;" "Reminiscences of Auld Langsyne, No. II. ;""On the Early Italian Romances, No. II. ;"" Cornicula's Peep into Parliament, No. II. ;" "Foreign Slave Trade, No. II. ;" "Adventures of Casanova in Warsaw, Part II. ;" "Eben. Anderson's Visit to Windsor ;" "The Reporter's Budget, No. II. ;""Review of Gillespie's Sermons ;” “ Review of Kerr Porter's Travels;" "Review of Sir Marmaduke Maxwell;" &c. &c. &c.

The quantity of "Dreams" we receive exceeds all belief. Life, say the moralising Poets, is but a dream; and hence we explain the phenomenon. Among others, one has been sent us, signed "Veritas," which the author assures us is a "Rondo." We supposed that Truth never dreamed; but it seems we were mistaken. Surely, never before was Truth enwrapped in such a mystical and unintelligible jargon. We are told," the Sun forsook his earth-borne Throne ;" that " the Evening was beautifully roan," that "the Harp of Esh journied past, slumber-cast o'er Echo's ear;" that "the very rosy clouds kissed about the Sun;" that the author's soul," on a word's breath, took wing ;" and, in short, that the whole "Dream," vouched for by Truth itself, is "beautifully pleasing !" We are sorry to say that, for once, Truth and We are at issue.

"Love's Labour Lost" (an absurd title) contains many beautiful lines; but the story is clumsily developed, and, as a whole, it falls below the mark to which the talents of the author might have obviously raised it. As we have been talking of Dreams, we shall quote the following couplet, which we think both original and striking:

"Oft come and go the Moon's pale beams,

Like glimpses of Truth through hurrying Dreams.”

"The Village Old Maid” is not “original,” as the author assures us, but a tolerably close parody of Southey's "Mary the Maid of the Inn;" one of the best-known and most popular of the Laureate's short pieces. How could L. L. P. ever imagine that he could pass off such a thing, as an "original" attempt of his own? We every day see more reason for adhering rigidly to the rule laid down in last Number.

ful.

The penmanship displayed in "The Monastery" and " Vincentio” is quite beauti

"The Portrait, a Monitory Epistle from the Dead to the Living," is too long, and too much in a moralising strain, to be effective or poetical. In its present state, we do not think we can insert it. The author, however, has our thanks and best wishes.

"Sir Alan Mortimer, a Legendary Ballad," we have not had time to peruse; but it shall meet with that attentive consideration which the author's talents and his modesty entitle him to expect at our hands.

The Review of "Millar's Poems" is in types, and will appear in our next Number.

The brutum fulmen of “Cincinnatus Caledonius" has proved quite harmless. H may, for ought we care, be a very important person in his district, and even an Elde of the Kirk, notwithstanding he deals out blasphemy at second-hand ;—but we know nothing, either of him or of the subject of his complaint. His "Kenitish MS,” i

the most contemptible jumble of dullness and profanity we ever read; althoug the author seems to think it vastly biting and clever. He is, forsooth, a "marvellou proper man" to vapour about "imitations," which have no existence, except amids the vagaries floating about in his own attic story. We consign him to the unqualified admiration of the whole Servum Pecus of Blasphemers, and Parodists of Holy Writ The paper "On Chivalry and its Tales" is under consideration. The accompanying Verses, not being exactly adapted to our Miscellany, shall be returned to the author, as he desires.

"On the Exhibition of Gladiators at Rome" is highly respectable. We shall be happy to hear again from the author.

Judging from the "Specimen" sent us, "the Poetry of the Kandyans" is not very inviting.

A great number of other pieces have been received, which do not require any particular notice.

Contributors, as all Editors know, to their cost, are a somewhat testy race; and as we dare not presume to say a word about their habits and practices ourselves, we shall take the liberty to transcribe, for their benefit or amusement, as it may happen, the following passage from a communication we have just received; premising that we think the author one of the fraternity himself so well versed is he in the secrets of the prison-house. "A Contributor is like nobody else, or rather no one else is like him. His ideas are all for his Magazine. Does any thing extraordinary happen to him ?-it will make an article. Does he hear a good story?—it only needs an extraordinary walk to the hills, or a pilgrimage to Lyddal Cross, and the thing is done. The memorandum-book of his mind often exhibits, This in my next to the

-: He gives vent to all his feelings in his Magazine: grief, love, jealousy, &c. are all, in their turns, subservient to his grand purpose-Article-making. His sentiments are no longer his own; he lays open his heart's-core; he parades his noblest, or describes his wildest sensations; he goes about, like a roaring lion, seeking whom and what he may devour; he spares not the most recent occurrences, and works up the simplest incident into a story:—moreover, he borrows largely, like Mr Vansittart, funds the principal, and generally forgets to pay the interest. Washington Irvine would make an excellent Contributor, in many respects. Every thing he writes about seems to have occurred on purpose to fill a leaf in his Sketch-Book. He sketches few views without taking advantage of Gilpin's instructions. Reading his articles (for articles they are, and nothing else,) is like sailing on a canal-soft and smooth-diversified sometimes with rich and beautiful scenery. He is occasionally, though but seldom, grand,-deep enough, but never rapid. He would make a most excellent Contributor !"

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THE

EDINBURGH MAGAZINE,

AND

LITERARY MISCELLANY.

JULY 1822.

CASANOVA'S ADVENTURES IN WARSAW. From the German.

[John James Casanova de Seingalt, a man well known to the literary world in general, and to that of Germany in particular, and brother to John Casanova, Director of the Royal Academy of Arts at Dresden, was born at Venice in the year 1725. The number of his works, and the versatility of his talents, alike render him celebrated, no less than his singular adventures and exten sive travels; either fortune or inclination having led him, not only to visit, but almost to naturalize himself, in Italy, Spain, France, England, Russia, Turkey, Germany, and Poland. He

died at the close of the last century, at Dux, in Bohemia, after filling, for seve ral years, the situation of Librarian to the Count Von Waldstein. The fol lowing is EXTRACTED FROM HIS OWN Memoirs of his Life.]

ABOUT the latter end of October, 1765, I arrived from Petersburgh at Warsaw, where a series of circumstances gradually led to that event which has rendered my stay in this town a remarkable epoch of my life. Having provided myself with a carriage and a lacquais de place, which I hired for the month, as these things are indispensable to a strangerin Waraw, I drove to pay my respects to Prince Adam Czartorinsky, Governor (or, as it was then called in Poland, General) of Podolia, to whom I had brought a letter from the English Ambassador at the Court of Russia. I found him in a room, which served at once for library and bedchamber,

VOL. XI.

sitting at a large table covered with writings and printed papers, and surrounded by about forty or fifty persons. My letter was a long one. The Prince read it through, and then said to me, expressing himself very elegantly in French: "The person who introduces you possesses my unlimited esteem; at this moment I am unfortunately occupied with affairs of importance, but I shall be happy to have the honour of seeing you this evening, provided you are not better engaged." I returned to my carriage, and drove to the palace of Prince Sulkowsky, who had lately been appointed Ambassador to the Court of Louis the Fifteenth, and was shortly going to take possession of his post. I found him just, setting off to visit the School of Cadets. He, however, read through my letter, and said: "We have much to discuss together. Will you have the goodness to dine with me at four o'clock, provided you are not better engaged?" I accepted the invitation, and had now only to consider about the best mode of passing away the intervening time. My servant had told me that an opera was rehearsing, to which any one might be admitted. Thither I repaired, and, alike unknowing and unknown, amused myself for three hours. The dancers and singers all delighted me, but more particularly one of the former, named Catani, a Milanese, of whom I had already heard much, as well as of her countryman Tomatis, who directed the Opera Buffa, and

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had found means to secure to himself the possession of the above-mentioned figurante. Without being remarkably excellent in the execution of any particular steps, this Catani performed all the principal parts. Applause was showered upon her from all quarters, and by none was it more liberally bestowed than by the Russian Ambassador, Prince Repnin, who was here looked up to as a sort of sovereign. At four o'clock I found myself seated at the table of Prince Sulkowsky. He talked on every possible subject, excepting on those with which I was conversant. His favourite topics were politics and commerce. The less competent he found me to vie with him, the more was he inclined to shine; and, I believe, I established myself in his good opinion by the silent admiration in which I sat and listened. Since I was not better engaged, (this, I found, was the favourite phrase of all great people,) I went in the evening to Prince Adam Czartorinsky's. He presented me, by name, to the whole company, introducing them in like manner to me. They consisted of the Prince, Bishop Krasinsky, the Grand Notary Razewusky, the Woiwode of Wilna, (Oginsky,) General Romihen, and two others, whose names have escaped my memory. In about a quarter of an hour, a remarkably fine-looking man entered the room. All the company rose up; Prince Adam named me to the new-comer, and said to me, in a tone of the most perfect indifference, "It is the King." This mode of presenting a stranger to a Sovereign is, certainly, not one likely to awe the senses by an overpowering impression of the dignity of Majesty; yet, when taken by surprise in this manner, it requires some presence of mind to recover one's self. Though, at first, almost inclined to imagine only a joke might be intended, I did not permit myself to give way to the suspicion, but was on the point of bending my knee, when his Majesty, with the utmost affability, offered me his hand, and allowed me to kiss it. Before he had time to proceed in engaging me in conversation, Prince Adam presented him with the letter of the English Ambassador, with whom, it appeared, he was acquainted. The condescending mon

arch, after having read the letter, (during all which time he remained standing,) asked me a variety of questions chiefly relating to the Empress of Russia, and the most remarkable personages around her throne. On this subject I was able to impart a good deal of information, to which the King listened with great apparent interest. Supper was soon after announced, and the King, who had not ceased to discourse with me, led me to table, and placed me at his right hand. Every one ate heartily, excepting the King, who appeared to have no appetite, and myself, who, even had I not dined with Prince Sulkowsky, should not have had any either, so fully was I satisfied with the honour of being the person on whose conversation the attention of the whole company seemed to rest. After supper, the King still continued his remarks upon what I had been saying, conversing in the most affable and pleasing manner, and told me, on retiring, he hoped to see me every day at Court. On taking my leave of Prince Adam, he told me, if I wished to be introduced to his father, I must wait upon him the following morning at eleven o'clock.

The King of Poland was of the middle size, and well proportioned. Handsome, in the general acceptation of the word, he could scarcely be called; but his physiognomy was expressive and engaging. When silent, his countenance might almost appear melancholy; but as soon as he began to speak, nothing could be more animated than his eloquence; and, when the occasion called it forth, he had a fund of humour, which never failed to communicate hilarity to all his hearers. I returned to my hotel, as may easily be imagined, highly flattered with the favourable auspices under which I had made my débût. At the appointed hour, the following morning, I made the acquaintance of a very remarkable personage-the old Prince Czartorinsky, the stately Woiwode of Russia. I found him in his dressing-gown, surrounded by a number of nobility, all in the national costume, wearing boots and mustachios, and having their heads bare, and shaven. He himself stood, speaking sometimes to one, and sometimes to another, in a grave, yet af

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