sovereignty in favour of his son, he appointed his wife Hortense regent. She had left him, and gone to Paris to enjoy the pleasures of the court circle. Their son, Napoleon Charles, was particularly loved by Napoleon, who created him grand-duke of Berg, and had even spoken of adopting him as heir of the empire. The death of this promising boy, was a great blow to Hortense. After Holland was incorporated with France, Hortense was obliged to relinquish the title of queen, and was usually styled countess of St. Leu; yet she was recognised as the ex-queen of Holland by many of the French writers of that time. Hortense bore her reverses better than her exaltation; she was an affectionate mother, and a devoted daughter; for many of the errors she committed, her position, and the peculiar circumstances in which she was placed, are a palliation, if not an excuse.

Without poetic genius to rank among authors, Hortense had a very pretty talent for making occasional poems for society. Her romances, for which she also composed the music, have been published in a collected form; some of these obtained great popularity. She died in 1847.

HOUDETOT, SOPHIE DE LA BRICHE, COUNTESS D',

Was born at Paris, in 1730. Her father was an officer of the government; and she married the count d'Houdetot in 1748. This lady was the friend of St. Lambert, and was highly esteemed by Rousseau and Marmontel.

The power by which Madame d'Houdetot captivated the gay, handsome, dissipated St. Lambert, or kindled the imagination of Rousseau, was not that of beauty. Her face was plain, and slightly marked with the small-pox; her eyes were not good; she was extremely short-sighted, which made her often appear ungraceful; she was small in person, and, but for her warm kindness of heart and cheerful sunshine of spirit, would have been quite overlooked in the world. To her singular power of charming, Madame d'Houdetot added talents of no common order, though never much cultivated. She was a musician, a poet, a wit; but every thing "par la gràce de Dieu." However, all these gifts, and her benevolence of her nature, will not make amends for her bad morals. Like Dr. Donne's servant, who was perfect, except for one thing- he was a thief. She died in 1813, aged eighty-three. Her poems were only published as fugitive pieces; the following is characteristic of her mode of writing:

IMITATION DE MAROT.

Jeune, j'aimai; ce temps de mon bel âge,
Ce temps si court, l'amour seul le remplit.
Quand j'atteignis la saison d'être sage,
Encor j'aimai, la raison me le dit.
Me voici vieille, et le plaisir s'envole;
Mais le bonheur ne me quitte aujourd'hui,
Car j'aime encore, et l'amour me console:
Rien n'auroit pu me consoler de lui.

HOWARD, ANNE, VISCOUNTESS IRWIN, WAS daughter of the earl of Carlisle, and married first the viscount Irwin, and afterwards Colonel Douglas. She was a poetess, and wrote in a

very spirited style. She died in 1760. The best known of her poems is the one in reply to Pope's sarcastic reflections on the sex, in his "Characters of Women." Duncomb, in his "Feminead," praises this poem. We will give an extract from her witty "Reply," &c. :

-View a fair nymph, blessed with superior charms,
Whose tempting form the coldest bosom warms;
No eastern monarch more despotic reigns
Than this fair tyrant of the Cyprian plains.
Whether a crown or bauble we desire,
Whether to learning or to dress aspire,
Whether we wait with joy the trumpet's call,
Or wish to shine the fairest at a ball;
In either sex the appetite 's the same,
For love of power is still the love of fame.
-Women must in a narrow orbit move,
But power alike both males and females love.
What makes the difference then, you may inquire,
Between the hero and the rural squire?
Between the maid bred up with courtly care,
Or she who earns by toil her daily fare?
Their power is stinted, but not so their will,
Ambitious thoughts the humblest cottage fill;
Far as they can they push their little fame,
And try to leave behind a deathless name.
In education all the difference lies:
Woman, if taught, would be as learned and wise
As haughty man, inspired by arts and rules;
Where God makes one, nature makes many fools;
And though nugatixes are daily found,
Flattering nugators equally abound.
Such heads are toy-shops filled with trifling ware,
And can each folly with each female share.
A female mind like a rude fallow lies,
No seeds are sown, but weeds spontaneous rise.
As well might we expect in winter spring,
As land untilled a fruitful crop should bring.
As well we might expect Peruvian ore
We should possess, yet dig not for the store.
Culture improves all fruits, all sorts we find,
Wit, judgment, sense, fruits of the human mind.

HOWARD, CATHARINE, FIFTH wife of Henry VIII. of England, was daughter of Lord Edmund Howard and Joyce, his wife. This marriage proved prejudicial to the Reformation, as Catharine was no friend to the Protestants. She gained such an ascendency over the king, that he gave public thanks to God for the happiness he enjoyed with her. But the next day, archbishop Cranmer came to him with information that the queen was unfaithful to him. Henry would not at first believe this; and on Catharine's guilt being clearly proved, he wept. She was tried, found guilty, and executed on Tower-hill, in 1542, about seventeen months after her marriage. Catharine acknowledged that she was not innocent at the time of her marriage, having been seduced by a retainer of her aunt's, the duchess of Northumberland, who had taken charge of her at her parents' death, when she was only fourteen; but persisted in asserting her fidelity to the king since their marriage. She was young and beautiful at the time of her death.

HUBER, MARY,

A VOLUMINOUS author, was born at Geneva, in 1710. The manner of her education is not particularly known. Her principal works are, "Le monde fou, préferé au monde sage;" "Le Systême des Théologians Anciens et Modernes, sur l'êtat des ames séparées des corps;" "Suite du même

ouvrage, servant de réponse à M. Ruchat;" "Reduction du Spectateur Anglais.” This was an abridgment of the Spectator, but did not succeed. "Lettres sur la Réligions essentielle à l'homme." Mary Huber was a Protestant, and this latter work in particular was attacked by the divines of the Roman Catholic communion. She had wit and knowledge, but was sometimes coarse in her expressions. She died at Lyons, in France, in 1753.

HUBER, THERESA,

DAUGHTER of the celebrated philologist Heyne, was married to Louis Ferdinand Huber, son of Michael Huber, professor at Leipsic. She was born in 1764, at Göttingen, and was a popular German novelist. During her husband's life, she published several novels under his name. She also edited for some time the Morgenblatt. She died a few years since.

HUNTER, ANNE,

WIFE of John Hunter, the celebrated surgeon, was a sister of Sir Everard Home. She was born in 1742, and was remarkable for her literary attainments. Intimately connected with Mrs. Elizabeth Carter, Mrs. Delany, &c., Mrs. Hunter was a member of the learned coterie of ladies who composed that celebrated society. She excelled in lyric poetry. Several of her songs were set to music by Haydn, and greatly admired. Her productions were collected and published in one volume, previous to her decease. She died in 1821, much lamented, for her virtues as well as her talents had greatly endeared her to her friends. We add specimens of her poetry.

SONG.

O tuneful voice! I still deplore

Those accents which, though heard no more,
Still vibrate on my heart;

In echo's cave I long to dwell.
And still would hear the sad farewell,
When we were doomed to part.

Bright eyes, O that the task were mine
To guard the liquid fires that shine,
And round your orbits play;
To watch them with a vestal's care.
And feed with smiles a light so fair,
That it may ne'er decay!

INDIAN DEATH SONG.

The sun sets in night, and the stars shun the day, But glory remains when their lights fade away. Begin, you tormentors! your threats are in vain, For the son of Alknomook will never complain.

Remember the arrows he shot from his bow,
Remember your chiefs by his hatchet laid low.
Why so slow? Do you wait till I shrink from the pain?
No; the son of Alknomook shall never complain.

Remember the wood where in ambush we lay,

And the scalps which we bore from your nation away.
Now the flame rises fast; you exult in my pain;
But the son of Alknomook can never complain.

I go to the land where my father is gone,
His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son;
Death comes, like a friend, to relieve me from pain;
And thy son, O Alknomook! has scorned to complain.

THE LOT OF THOUSANDS.

When hope lies dead within the heart,
By secret sorrow close concealed,
We shrink lest looks or words impart
What must not be revealed.

'Tis hard to smile when one would weep;
To speak when one would silent be;
To wake when one would wish to sleep,
And wake to agony.

Ye such the lot by thousands cast
Who wander in this world of care.
And bend beneath the bitter blast
To save them from despair.

But Nature waits her guests to greet.

Where disappointment cannot come: And time guides with unerring feet The weary wanderers home.

HUNTINGDON, SELINA, COUNTESS OF, Was born in 1707. She was one of three daughters and co-heirs of Washington Shirley, earl Ferrers; the other two being Lady Kilmorey and Lady Elizabeth Nightingale. Selina, the second daughter, married, in 1728, Theophilus Hastings, earl of Huntingdon, with whom she lived very happily till his sudden death, in October, 1746. She had several children, four of whom died young.

Probably these heavy afictions disposed this lady to take such deep interest in religion. It was at the time when the founders of Methodism, Wesley and Whitfield, were exciting in England a spirit of more intense devotion than was generally prevalent, and the Countess of Huntingdon embraced their doctrines with her whole heart.

She rather inclined to Whitfield's peculiar doctrines than to Wesley's; but she chose to be herself the founder of a sect, which were called "The Countess of Huntingdon's Connexion." She had the control of a large income during her forty-five years of widowhood, and as her own personal expenses were small, and she was assisted by other opulent persons, she supported a college at Trevecca, in Wales, for the education of ministers, and built sixty-four chapels, the ministers of which she assisted to support. Her largest chapel was at Bath, which she frequently attended. She created a trust for the support of her college and chapels after her death. And not only did she thus merit the title of public benefactor, but she also expended, annually, large sums in private charities. She lived for others, and at her death, which took place June 17th, 1791, was deeply mourned by all who knew her; even those who regarded her conduct as the result of mistaken enthusiasm, respected her for the noble virtues of her character and her Christian conduct.

HUTCHINSON, ANNE,

A WOMAN who caused much difficulty in New England soon after its settlement, came from Lincolnshire to Boston in 1635, and was the wife of one of the representatives of Boston. The members of Mr. Cotton's church used to meet every week to repeat his sermons and discourse on doctrines. She established similar meetings for women, and soon had a numerous audience. She

advocated sentiments of her own, and warped the discourses of her clergyman to coincide with them. She soon threw the whole colony into a flame. The progress of her sentiments occasioned, in 1637, the first synod in America. This convention of ministers condemned eighty-two erroneous opinions then propagated in the country. Mrs. Hutchinson was called before the court in November, 1637; and, being convicted of traducing the ministers and advancing errors, was banished from Massachusetts. She went with her husband to Rhode Island; and in 1742, after her husband's death, removed into the Dutch colony beyond New Haven, where she, with most of her family, consisting of sixteen persons, were captured, and all, except one daughter, killed by the Indians. This occurred in 1643.

HUTCHINSON, LUCY,

DAUGHTER of Sir Allan Aspley, was born in 1624. At the age of eighteen she was married to Colonel John Hutchinson, who distinguished himself as one of the most efficient among the Puritan leaders in the war between Charles I. and the Parliament. Their courtship was a very romantic one, as it is given by the lady in her "Memoir" of her husband. She says- 66 'Never was there a passion more ardent and less idolatrous; he loved her better than his life; with inexpressible tenderness and kindness; had a most high, obliging esteem of her; yet still considered honour, religion and duty, above her; nor ever suffered the intrusion of such a dotage as should blind him from marking her imperfections." That it was "not her face he loved," but "her honour and her virtue were his mistresses," he abundantly proved; for, "on the day fixed for the marriage, when the friends of both parties were assembled, and all were waiting the appearance of the bride, she was suddenly seized with an illness, at that time often the most fatal to life and beauty. She was taken ill of small-pox; was for some time in imminent danger; and, at last, when her recovery was assured, the return of her personal attractions was considered more than doubtful. She says, indeed, herself, that her illness made her, for a long time after she had regained her health, the most deformed person that could be seen.' But Mr. Hutchinson's affection was as strong as his honour. He neither doubted nor delayed to prosecute his suit; but, thankful to God for her preservation, he claimed her hand as soon as she was able to quit her chamber; and when the clergyman who performed the service, and the friends who witnessed it, were afraid to look at the wreck of her beauty. He was rewarded; for her features were restored, unblemished as before; and her form, when he presented her as his wife, justified his taste as much as her more intrinsic qualities did his judgment. They were united to each other on the 3d of July, 1638.

66

of Charles II., Colonel Hutchinson was imprisoned in the Tower, she followed him, and never ceased her exertions and importunities till she was permitted to visit him. When her husband was removed to Sandown Castle in Kent, she, with some of her children, went also, and used every entreaty to be permitted to reside in the castle with him. This was refused; but she took lodgings in Deal, and walked every day to Sandown to see and cheer the prisoner. All that could be done to obtain his pardon or liberation, she did; but as Colonel Hutchinson was a Puritan and a republican on principle, and would not disclaim his opinions, though he would promise to live in quiet, his enemies listened to no pleadings for mercy. What was to have been his ultimate punishment will never be known; the damp and miserable apartment in which he was confined brought on an illness which ended his life, September 11th, 1664, leaving his wife with eight children and an embarrassed estate to mourn his irreparable loss. Mrs.. Hutchinson was not with him at his death; she had gone to their home to obtain supplies and bring away the children left there. His deathscene shows the estimation in which he held her. So long as he was able to sit up, he read much in the Bible; and on looking over some notes on the Epistle to the Romans, he said, "When my wife returns, I will no more observe their cross humours; but when her children are all near, I will have her in the chamber with me, and they shall not pluck her out of my arms. During the winter evenings she shall collect together the observations I have made on this Epistle since I have been in prison."

As he grew worse, the doctor feared delirium, and advised his brother and daughter not to defer anything they wished to say to him. Being informed of his condition, he replied with much composure, "The will of the Lord be done; I am ready." He then gave directions concerning the disposal of his fortune, and left strict injunctions that his children should be guided in all things by their mother; "And tell her," said he, "that as she is above other women, so must she on this occasion show herself a good Christian, and above the pitch of ordinary minds."

Faithfully she fulfilled these injunctions; evincing her sorrow and her love, not by useless repinings, but by training up her children to be like their father, and employing her talents in constructing a monument to his fame. For this purpose she undertook her great work, "The Life of Colonel Hutchinson, by his widow Lucy." This has been republished lately, and the Edinburgh Review thus closes a notice of the work:

son.

tron, that makes the Corinnes and Heloises appear very insignificant. We may safely venture to assert that a nation which produces many such wives and mothers as Mrs. Lucy Hutchinson, must be both great and happy."

We should do injustice to the worth of female genius if we omitted to give a few extracts from this work of Mrs. Hutchinson. An "Address to her Children" forms the introduction to the Memoir. Thus she writes:

"I, who am under a command not to grieve at the common rate of desolate women, while I am studying which way to moderate my wo, and, if it were possible, to augment my love, can find out none more just to your dear father, or more consoling to myself, than the preservation of his memory; which I need not gild with such flattering commendations as the hired preachers equally give to the truly and the nominally honourable; an undrest narrative, speaking the simple truth of him, will deck him with more substantial glory than all the panegyrics the best pens could ever consecrate to 'the virtues of the best men. Το number his virtues is to give the epitome of his life, which was nothing else but a progress from one degree of virtue to another. His example was more instructive than the best rules of the moralists; for his practice was of a more divine extraction, drawn from the Word of God, and wrought up by the assistance of his spirit. He had a noble method of government, whether in civil, military, or domestic administrations; which forced love and reverence even from unwilling subjects, and greatly endeared him to the souls of those who rejoiced to be governed by him. He had a native majesty that struck awe into the hearts of men, and a sweet greatness that commanded love."

His affection for his wife was such, that whoever would form rules of kindness, honour, and religion, to be practised in that state, need no more, but exactly draw out his example. Man never had a greater passion or a more honourable esteem for woman; yet he was not uxorious, and never remitted that just rule which it was her honour to obey; but he managed the reins of government with such prudence and affection, that she who would not delight in such honourable and advantageous subjection, must have wanted a reasonable soul. He governed by persuasion, which he never employed but in things profitable to herself. He loved her soul better than her countenance; yet even for her person he had a constant affection, exceeding the common temporary passion of fond fools. If he esteemed her at a higher rate than she deserved, he was himself the author of the virtue he doated on; for she was but a faithful mirror, reflecting truly, but dimly, his own glories upon him. When she ceased to be young and lovely, he showed her the most tenderness. He loved her at such a kind and generous rate as words cannot express; yet even this, which was the highest love any man could have, was bounded by a superior feeling; he regarded her, not as his idol, but as his fellow-crea

ture in the Lord, and proved that such a feeling exceeds all the irregularities in the world."

Mrs. Hutchinson brought up her children and lived to see some of them married. The time of her decease is not known.

HYDE, ANNE, DUCHESS OF YORK, THE eldest daughter of Lord Clarendon, and mother of two of the queens of Great Britain, was born in 1638. During the exile of the royal family she attended her father abroad, and was appointed maid of honour to the princess of Orange, the eldest sister of Charles II. Her intercourse with James, duke of York, then a young and gallant soldier, commenced when Miss Hyde was in her twenty-first year. She had accompanied the princess of Orange to Paris, on a visit to her mother, queen Henrietta, when James saw, and fell in love with her. They were betrothed at Breda, November 24th, 1659; but there were so many difficulties in obtaining the consent of the royal family to this alliance, that they were not married till September 3d, 1660. The ceremony was performed at Worcester-House, London. The duchess of York was a handsome and sensible woman, and lived in harmony with her husband, notwithstanding his open infidelities. Before her death she became a Roman Catholic. She died at St. James' palace, March 31st, 1671, in her thirty-fourth year.

INCHBALD, ELIZABETH,

A DRAMATIST and novelist, whose maiden name was Simpson, was born in 1756, at Stanningfield, near Bury, in Suffolk. The beauty of Elizabeth Simpson was much celebrated in the circle of her acquaintance, and she appears to have been noticed by those of a higher rank than her own circle; but an imperfection in her organs of utterance rendered her averse to society, and she would, in early youth, fly to solitude, and seek, in books, for the amusement she could not enjoy in conversation. The kind of education she received may

be gathered from an observation of her own: "It is astonishing how much all girls are inclined to literature, to what boys are. My brother went to school seven years, and could not spell; I, and my two sisters, though we were never taught, could spell from our infancy."

To cure the impediment in her speech she exerted the most persevering efforts, and by repeated trials discovered the way of palliating her defects. She says that she wrote out all the words with which she had any difficulty, carried them constantly about with her, and at last perceived, or fancied she perceived, that stage declamation was favourable to this defect, rather than the reverse. When sixteen she secretly left her family, prompted by an irrepressible desire to visit London. After escaping many dangers in this rash adventure, she married Mr. Inchbald, of Drury Lane theatre, and was for several years on the stage. Mr. Inchbald died suddenly, in 1779, and left his widow, at twenty-five years of age, entirely dependent on herself for support. She continued on the stage for a time, but left it in 1789, and from that time devoted herself solely to her literary labours. She wrote nineteen dramas, some of which were very successful, and two novels, "The Simple Story," and "Nature and Art," which rank among the standard works in that class of literature; and she edited The British Theatre," "The Modern Theatre," and a collection of farces. Mrs. Inchbald died August 1st, 1821, aged sixty-seven.

The following is the opinion of Miss Edgeworth respecting the "Simple Story," the most popular of Mrs. Inchbald's works: "I have just been reading, for the third, I believe for the fourth time, the Simple Story.' Its effect upon my feelings was as powerful as at the first reading; I never read any novel-I except none-I never read any novel that affected me so strongly, or that so completely possessed me with the belief in the real existence of all the persons it represents. I never once recollected the author whilst I was reading it; never said or thought, that's a fine sentiment—or, that is well expressed-or, that is well invented; I believed all to be real, and was affected as I should be by the real scenes, if they had passed before my eyes; it is truly and deeply pathetic."

Of her second novel, "Nature and Art," Mr. Chambers, in his "Cyclopædia of English Literature," remarks: 'Its object may be gathered from the concluding maxim-'Let the poor no more be their own persecutors- -no longer pay homage to wealth-instantaneously the whole idolatrous worship will cease-the idol will be broken.' Mrs. Inchbald illustrated this by her own practice; yet few of her readers can feel aught but mortification and disappointment at the denouement of the tale, wherein the pure and noble-minded Henry, after the rich promise of his youth and his intellectual culture, finally settles down with his father to cheerful labour in fishing, or the tending of a garden, the produce of which they carry to the next market-town?' The following brief allusion to the miseries of low London service reminds us

of the vividness and stern pathos of Dickens:'In romances, and in some plays, there are scenes of dark and unwholesome mines, wherein the labourer works during the brightest day by the aid of artificial light. There are, in London, kitchens equally dismal, though not quite so much exposed to damp and noxious vapours. In one of these under ground, hidden from the cheerful light of the sun, poor Agnes was doomed to toil from morning till night, subjected to the command of a dissatisfied mistress, who, not estimating as she ought the misery incurred by serving her, constartly threatened her servants with a dismission, at which the unthinking wretches would tremble merely from the sound of the words; for to have reflected-to have considered what their purport was to be released from a dungeon, relieved from continual upbraiding and vile drudgery, must have been a subject of rejoicing; and yet, because these good tidings were delivered as a menace, custom had made the hearer fearful of the consequence. So, death being described to children as a disaster, even poverty and shame will start from it with affright; whereas, had it been pictured with its benign aspect, it would have been feared but by few, and many, many would welcome it with glad

ness.

But better than any sentiment contained in her works of fiction are the noble generosity and true Christian self-denial she practised towards her poor, unfortunate sister, whom she supported for many years. The brief notices of her charitable deeds, gathered from letters and the records of her friends, are her best monument. One writer says: Mrs. Inchbald frequently suffered from the want of fire herself, when it is known that she had enabled others to avail themselves of that necessary of life, and her donations to her sisters and other friends in distress were generous and munificent. To her sister, Mrs. Hunt, she eventually allowed nearly a hundred per annum. At the time when Mrs. Inchbald was her own servant, she writes, I have raised her allowance to eighty, but in the rapid strides of her wants, and my obligation as a Ghristian to make no selfish refusal to the poor, a few months hence, I foresee, must make the sum a hundred.' Again, in 1810, she says, 'I say No to all the vanities of the world, and perhaps soon shall have to say, that I shall allow my poor infirm sister a hundred a year.'

To the last, Mrs. Hunt depended on Mrs. Inchbald almost exclusively for support. The following expresses the sentiments of her feeling and affectionate heart, on the receipt of the intelligence that she had no longer a brother or sister in the world. To return to my melancholy. Many a time this winter, when I cried with cold, I said to myself-but, thank God, my sister has not to stir from her room: she has her fire lighted every morning; all her provisions bought, and brought to her ready cooked: she would be less able to bear what I bear; and how much more should I have to suffer, but from this reflection! It almost made me warm, when I reflected that SHE suffered no cold; and yet, perhaps, this severe weather affected her also, for after only two