Regent came forth, and saluted the high personages of the assemblage in a courtly manner. One old lady of quality, Madame de Guyon, whom he had known in his infancy, he kissed on the cheek, calling her his good aunt.' He made a most ceremonious salutation to the stately Marchioness de Créqui, telling her he was charmed to see her at the Palais Royal; a compliment very ill-timed, said the Marchioness, considering the circumstance which brought me there.' He then conducted the ladies to the door of the second saloon, and there dismissed them, with the most ceremonious politeness.

The application of the Prince de Ligne and the Duke de Havre, for a change of the mode of punishment, had, after much difficulty, been successful. The Regent had promised solemnly to send a letter of commutation to the attorney-general on Holy Monday, the 25th of March, at five o'clock in the morning. According to the same promise, a scaffold would be arranged in the cloister of the Conciergerie, or prison, where the Count would be beheaded on the same morning, immediately after having received absolution. This mitigation of the form of punishment gave but little consolation to the great body of petitioners, who had been anxious for the pardon of the youth: it was looked upon as all-important, however, by the Prince de Ligne, who, as has been before observed, was exquisitely alive to the dignity of his family.

The Bishop of Bayeux and the Marquis de Créqui visited the unfortunate youth in prison. He had just received the communion in the chapel of the Conciergerie, and was kneeling before the altar, listening to a mass for the dead, which was performed at his request. He protested his innocence of any intention to murder the Jew, but did not deign to allude to the accusation of robbery. He made the bishop and the Marquis promise to see his brother the prince, and inform him of this his dying asseveration.

Two other of his relations, the Prince Rebecq-Montmorency and the Marshal Van Isenghien, visited him secretly, and offered him poison, as a means of evading the disgrace of a public execution. On his refusing to take it, they left him with high indignation. 'Miserable man!' said they, You are fit only to perish by the hand of the executioner!'

The Marquis de Créqui sought the executioner of Paris, to bespeak an easy and decent death for the unfortunate youth. Do not make him suffer,' said he; uncover no part of him but the neck; and have his body placed in a coffin, before you deliver it to his family.' The executioner promised all that was requested, but declined a rouleau of a hundred louis-d'ors which the Marquis would have put into his hand. I am paid by the king for fulfilling my office,' said he; and added, that he had already refused a like sum, offered by another relation of the Marquis.

The Marquis de Ĉréqui returned home in a state of deep affliction. There he found a letter from the Duke de St. Simon, the familiar friend of the Regent, repeating the promise of that prince, that the punishment of the wheel should be commuted to decapitation.

Imagine,' says the Marchioness de Créqui, who in her memoirs gives a detailed account of this affair, imagine what we experienced, and what was our astonishment, our grief, and indignation, when, on Tuesday the 26th of March, an hour after mid-day, word

was brought us that the Count Van Horn had been exposed on the wheel, in the Place de Grève, since half past six in the morning, on the same scaffold with the Piedmontese De Mille, and that he had been tortured previous to execution!'

One more scene of aristocratic pride closed this tragic story. The Marquis de Créqui, on receiving this astounding news, immediately arrayed himself in the uniform of a general officer, with his cordon of nobility on the coat. He ordered six valets to attend him in grand livery, and two of his carriages, each with six horses, to be brought forth. In this sumptuous state, he set off for the Place de Grève, where he had been preceded by the Princes de Ligne, de Rohan, de Crouy, and the Duke de Havré.

The Count Van Horn was already dead, and it was believed that the executioner had had the charity to give him the coup de grace, or 'death-blow,' at eight o'clock in the morning. At five o'clock in the evening, when the Judge Commissary left his post at the Hotel de Ville, these noblemen, with their own hands, aided to detach the mutilated remains of their relation; the Marquis de Créqui placed them in one of his carriages, and bore them off to his hotel, to receive the last sad obsequies.

The conduct of the Regent in this affair excited general indignation. His needless severity was attributed by some to vindictive jealousy; by others to the persevering machinations of Law and the Abbé Dubois. The house of Van Horn, and the high nobility of Flanders and Germany, considered themselves flagrantly outraged : many schemes of vengeance were talked of, and a hatred engendered against the Regent, that followed him through life, and was wreaked with bitterness upon his memory after his death.

The following letter is said to have been written to the Regent by the Prince Van Horn, to whom the former had adjudged the confiscated effects of the Count:

'I do not complain, Sir, of the death of my brother, but I complain that your Royal Highness has violated in his person the rights of the kingdom, the nobility, and the nation. I thank you for the confiscation of his effects; but I should think myself as much disgraced as he, should I accept any favor at your hands. 1 hope that God and the King may render to you as strict justice as you have rendered to my unfortunate brother?

THE LAND O F FAME.

FEW pierce this limbo-land of cloud,
But doff their armor for the shroud,
And leave, to cheer their comrades on,
Their trophies- and their skeleton!

Yet inroads on this gloomy realm,
That mists and shadows overwhelm,
Are made; for all that Truth would hail,
Must force this frontier line, or fail.

And through this vestibule have passed
All master-minds; the first as last,
And inch by inch, and day by day,
Have cut their road, or fought their way.

LITERARY NOTICES.

A VISIT TO THIRTEEN ASYLUMS FOR THE INSANE IN EUROPE: WITH STATISTICS. By PLINY EARLE, M. D. Philadelphia: ADAM WALDIE.

WE promised, in our January number, to advert thereafter more particularly than we were then enabled to do, to this unpretending but exceedingly interesting pamphlet. During a tour in Great Britain and on the European continent, the author visited several asylums for the insane, and he has here embodied the notes collected at those institutions; 'trusting,' and not, we may believe, without good reason, 'that some of the ideas might not be entirely useless.' He begins with the English public asylums, which he describes very satisfactorily; but makes no allusion to the private lunatic asylums of England, which have been represented to us as numerous, and as teeming with abuses of the most aggravated character. They are often established by private individuals, for purposes of pecuniary gain; the proprietor charging so much per week, month, or year, for each patient. Hence it is made an object to procure as many patients, and keep them as long, as they possibly can. Their very principle, it will be seen, opens a wide field for abuse. A wicked, unscrupulous man, for example, has a rich uncle, of whose property he desires to gain immediate possession. He may safely gain his object, by writing to a proprietor of one of these asylums, stating that he has a relation whom he wishes to place under his care, and requesting him to send, at a certain hour, a couple of stout keepers, and a doctor to certify, in order to save trouble. Nothing more is required. At the appointed time, down come the keepers, with the doctor, who perhaps find the victim preconcertedly excited by the nephew, or if not, the announcement of their errand accomplishes that object; the doctor certifies, and pockets his fee; and, armed with his authority, the keepers seize and drag the unhappy man away to their den, from which he seldom escapes, while the necessary payments are kept up. An English friend has told us, that hundreds are thus imprisoned in England, and have been for years; and although commissioners are compelled, by law, to visit such establishments four times a year, they seldom perform the duty more than twice during the term; and even then, so short is their stay, and so entirely do they depend upon the representations of the proprietors, that their visits are worse than useless to the persons confined. The victim, therefore, becomes lost to society, to which he can scarcely hope ever to return; he is beyond the reach of the law; he cannot communicate with those who would promote his restoration, but is treated at once as an incurable lunatic; guarded and kicked about during the day, and locked and chained, if a murmur should escape him, in a miserable cell at night; and if he can, by dint of the most galling brutality, be goaded on to absolute madness, it supersedes the necessity for any disguise on the part of the proprietors, and one of their chief objects is thereby attained. We observe, by a brief paragraph in the English intelligence, by late arrivals, that this iniquitous private mad-house system is to be brought formally before Parliament, at its next session. But we are forgetting the public asylums, where the great object is to cure the patients, instead of keeping them

as long as possible, and not curing them at all. Mr. EARLE, in his sketch of the Middlesex institution, relates the following striking anecdote:

"A workman at the Wakefield Lunatic Asylum left a chisel, more than three feet long, in one of the wards; a furious patient seized it and threatened to kill any one who approached him. Every one then in the ward immediately retreated from it. 'At length,' says the author referred to, I opened the door, and, balancing the key of the ward on my hand, walked slowly toward him, looking intently at it. His attention was immediately attracted; he came towards me, and inquired what I was doing. I told him I was trying to balance the key, and said, at the same time, that he could not balance the chisel in the same way on the back of his hand. He immediately placed it there, and extending his hand with the chisel on it, I took it off very quietly, and without making any comment upon it. Though he seemed a little chagrined at having lost his weapon, he made no attempt to regain it, and in a short time the irritation passed away."

Much commendation is bestowed upon the Retreat, near York, (Eng.,) which is made a home to each patient, by improved grounds and apartments, the encouragement of reading and labor, and the introduction of amusements, judiciously selected. How different the situation of the asylum at Amsterdam, Holland:

"The most glaring defects, at present, are, an insufficiency of room within doors, as well as without; a want of cleanliness, particularly in the men's wards, and an almost entire absence of either labor or amusements. A few of the women were either knitting or sewing; but the men, without exception, were unoccupied, lying on the floor, the ground, or the beds, standing in the stupidity of dementia and idiocy, or walking to and fro, raving with the unbridled fury of madmen. There was about the place an air of most indescribable melancholy. As means of coercion and punishment, the hands and feet of patients are sometimes fastened, and the camisole, the straight-jacket, and imprisonment, are resorted to. For the last mentioned purpose, there are six dungeons, constructed three upon either side of a small apartment. One of these was occupied, at the time of my visit, by a woman, who was naked, raving, and filthy."

At the Utrecht institution, our author found several patients occupied in drawing, reading, etc. Among them was a physician:

"He conversed freely upon his situation, gave an account of his commencement of practice, and the success which attended his efforts, until his friends thought it best for him to take lodgings in the Lunatic Asylum. At length he asked me if I thought him deranged. He had talked so rationally, and this question was put so directly and so earnestly, that to avoid answering it was almost impossible. An evasive reply, if any, must be given. It is difficult to define derangement,' said I; and, if we should accept the definition given by some authors, we should include almost the majority of mankind.' He appeared satisfied with the answer, and only remarked, with a melancholy tone, 'Je crois bien que le plupart des gens sont des aliénés.' Poor man! although reason was dethroned, it was evident from his conversation that the affections retained their empire."

In Mr. EARLE's account of the Bicêtre, at Paris, he relates an example of cruelty, in the administration of the 'douche,' (a stream of cold water upon the head,) which reflects little credit upon the celebrated PINEL. The 'cool and cogent logic of cold water,' which our author enjoys with evident gusto, strikes us, in the case alluded to, as the argument of a tyrant. With what sort of conviction does Mr. EARLE suppose the unfortunate patient 'yielded his points?' A very revolting picture is given of the insane hospital at Constantinople, which our author visited, in company with two American gentlemen. How true is it, that there are no ruins like the ruins of the mind:

'We passed along the corridor to the first window. From between the bars of the iron grating with which this was defended, a heavy chain, ominous of the sad reality within, protruded, and was fastened to the external surface of the wall. It was about six feet in length; the opposite extremity was attached to a heavy iron ring, surrounding the neck of a patient, who was sitting, within the grating, upon the window-seat. We entered the room, and found two other patients, similarly fastened, at the two windows upon the opposite side of the room. It was a most cheerless apartment. A jug to contain water, and, for each of the patients, a few boards, laid upon the floor, or elevated three or four inches, at most, and covered with a couple of blankets, were all the articles

of comfort or convenience with which, aside from their clothing, these miserable creatures were supplied. Although in the latter part of December, they had no fire, nor were the windows glazed.' "There was but one who was not chained. He was an elderly man, though still retaining much of the vivacity of earlier years. His long and profuse hair and beard were nearly white, and his complexion very delicate. He was formerly a priest of the Islam faith. He has been deranged, and confined in this place, nearly fifteen years, during which time he has thrice broken the chain with which he was secured. He is now alone in his apartment, within which no one is permitted to enter. He talked and raved incessantly, threatening to kill those who were making him their gazing stock. Like those in the apartment first mentioned, all the patients, with one exception, were without fire. The person forming this exception, was one of the most hideous of undeformed human beings. He has been in the Timar-hané, as this Asylum is called by the Turks, more than forty years. His hair and beard, both naturally abundant, curly, and black as ebony, appeared as if they had not been cut or combed since his entrance. They nearly concealed his face, and the former hung in a profusion of literally 'dishevelled locks' about his neck and shoulders. His head would have been a nonpareil for an original to the figure of Cain, in David's celebrated picture of Cain meditating the death of Abel.' He lay crouched upon all-fours, resting upon his knees and elbows, and holding his head and hands over a manghale of living embers. Whatsoever was said, whether addressed to him or otherwise, could only induce him slowly to turn his huge head, and present his hideous face more directly to view.' There was another, one of the finest looking Mussulmen that ever worshipped before the altars of Stamboul. His beard might acknowledge no rival in beauty, excepting that of Mahmoud the Second, and his eye possessed all the mingled fire and softness of the Orient. He was occupied in sewing. Upon being informed that I was an American, 'Please,' said he, 'turning toward me slowly, and without the slightest change of countenance; 'please, effendi, to give my respects to the Sultan of America!'

Who knows but this Turk may once have been the 'rose and expectancy of the fair state,' among the super-celestials? Great wit to madness is allied. Dr. Rusн, in an article some months since, in this Magazine, offered a remark, that has always forcibly impressed us. It was, that let any, the most sensible man, as he walks the street, express all the thoughts which pass through his mind, and he would be accounted as mad as a March hare. Pity the insane!

MEMOIRS AND REMINISCENCES OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. By MADAME Tussaud. EDITED by FRANCIS HERVE, Esq. In two volumes. pp. 461. Philadelphia: LEA AND BLANCHARD.

THE stiltish preface to these volumes, by the editor, is but a poor introduction to kindred stiltishness in the style of the work itself. 'Madame Tussaud saw,' 'Madame Tussaud remembers,' 'Madame Tussaud believes,' etc., strike the eye, in the commencement of nearly every paragraph in the work; and what the good lady saw, remembers, and believes, is not always of the utmost importance, or imbued with any very particular interest; nor can we here perceive the great improvement upon preceding pictures of the French revolution, which seems to be so apparent to the editor of these volumes. The authoress has doubtless given as accurate an account of what occurred during her residence in France, comprising a period of more than thirty years, at an important period, as her memory will permit;' but then, being nearly eighty years of age, and having passed so considerable a period of her life under a constant state of excitement, her recollections must sometimes be in a degree confused and impaired. In short, we cannot avoid thinking, that Mr. FRANCIS HERVE, Esq., has been pumping a very old lady, to obtain matériel for a gossiping work, whose sale should help to 'make the pot boil,' when the lean cut from the shambles was standing at a cold simmer; and his labors may not inaptly be compared to a dish of soup maigre, made after the most common Parisian recipe; four pails of Seine water to a turnip!' This is about the 'rate of interest' in these 'Memoirs and Reminiscences.'