he would cover them with gifts and bounties, and at last dismiss those who had sought him, depressed with disease and poverty, in the full glow of health and hope. His charities, not only sanitary but pecuniary, knew no bounds Thrice in each week was the preceding spectacle repeated, and more than fifteen thousand persons in Paris alone owe to him health and prosperity." Nor were

such sentiments peculiar to the author of the Lettres sur la Suisse; M. de Miromesnil, M. de Vergennes, the Marquis de Segur, and many others, statesmen, cabinet ministers, men of rank and perfectly familiar with the world, bear the most exalted testimony to the virtues and genius of this arch impostor. A few wanderings, after leaving Paris at this juncture, had brought him, in 1780, to Strasburg, where, as we have seen, he won the confidence of the Cardinal, and no doubt cozened him handsomely under the rose. When Rohan repaired to court, Cagliostro was not far distant; and it was probably from probing the efforts, which vanity and wounded self-love prompted the prelate to essay, in order to restore himself to favor with the King and Queen that he took the hint of putting into execution the most audacious, the most reckless and one of the most heavy robberies that ever was committed. In 1772, Rohan had been appointed Ambassador at Vienna by Louis XV., where his indiscretions made him so obnoxious to Maria Theresa that she used every effort to obtain his recall; which she did not succeed in effecting, however, till two months after Louis XVI. had ascended the throne. Naturally, Marie Antoinette cherished no other feelings but those of personal antipathy towards a man whose dispatches to his own court had conveyed little else than satires and caricatures of her mother, her kindred, and even, covertly, of herself. While, then, the King recompensed his titular services by conferring upon the Cardinal new dignities, and emoluments to the amount of half a million of francs annually, both he and his Queen made no secret of their determination to withhold utterly from his Eminence all those smiles and gracious words that mark the peculiar lot of a favorite at court.. Too late, he found out that the "gates of mercy had been shut upon him, and that he was virtually banished from all the royal

intimacies. To restore himself to favor now became the darling passion of his soul, and we shall see to what lengths it led him, in the celebrated affair of the Diamond Necklace.

This episode brings another character upon the stage, in the person of Jeanne de Luz de Saint Remy de Valois, Countess de la Motte, a woman whose career was to the full as adventurous, as abundant in the utmost extremes of prosperity and adversity as the most confirmed reader of romances could desire. Though born at Fontelle, in Champagne, in 1752, in the greatest poverty and indigence, she was the lineal descendant of Henry II., of France, through his natural son Henry de St. Remi, by Nicole de Savigni. The Marquise de Boulain-Villiers, wife of the Provost of Paris, had found this girl and her brother begging alms. Ascertaining their condition, she had them educated at her own expense, and in due season presented their pedigree to d'Hozier de Serigni, the King-atarms, and chief herald, so to speak, of the nobility of France. This ceremony was necessary for her presentation at court: the general rule being, that, save in certain specified exceptions, all Frenchmen aspiring to that honor must produce their certified pedigree, exhibiting a clear noble descent since the year 1399. Accordingly they were duly received by Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette, and were presented with substantial marks of the royal bounty. But, unfortunately, these children were most unworthy objects of any such favor. The brother terminated a profligate life without doing anything to bring him under our notice here. The sister married, in 1780, the Count de la Motte, an officer in the service of the Count d'Artois, afterwards Charles X. Falling into an intrigue with the Cardinal de Rohan, she, in a luckless hour for him, undertook to speed his affairs with the queen. In this business her only coadjutors, according to her own story, were her husband and Cagliostro. From time to time she comforted her employer with pretended assurances of her success, while she busily sponged upon his purse. Thriftless and extravagant to a degree, the prelate little recked by what means he procured the funds to gratify his present pleasures; and the conspirators found him a fruitful resource. But they aimed at a more

brilliant coup de main. The point was to bring the Cardinal's credulity up to the desired pitch. Accordingly, Madame de la Motte persuaded him to write a letter to her Majesty; to which, with great mystery, she brought him a forged reply. The enraptured courtier, gulled by a few false lines, made his next note more cordial; that which he received in response was couched in similar terms. Letter after letter thus passed, till, at last, the Queen was made to confess a positive passion for the Cardinal, and only restrained by reasons of state from publicly countenancing him. Now was the moment for the plotters to strike. The royal jewelers, MM. Boehmer and Bassange, had about this time vainly importuned the Queen to purchase from them a diamond necklace, of the value of nearly eighteen hundred thousand francs, or over three hundred and fifty thousand dollars: she admired it vastly, but had not the money, and would not become the purchaser. The Countess one evening visited M. Boehmer, and with many injunctions to secresy, and a cock-andbull story of her mistress's reasons, exhibited a forged letter from the Queen, consenting to take the necklace at the price of sixteen hundred thousand francs. Not doubting the authenticity of the document, but unwilling to sell on credit such a valuable article without some more positive security for its payment, the jeweler suggested that if her Majesty had reasons for not appearing publicly as the buyer, she might perhaps employ some friend of sufficient stability to make the purchase for her. She could settle with her friend, and he with the merchants. "Very well," quoth La Motte,"she will doubtless agree to these terms: one of the most considerable dignitaries of the court shall call on you in a few days." Of course, her victim was to be the Cardinal. An intimation of the Queen's desires was given him-but he still hung back.

Then a

formal procuration, authorizing him to purchase the necklace in her name, payable in four sums, of four hundred thousand francs each, at intervals of six months, and signed Marie Antoinette de France, was conveyed to him, with a promise that any favor in her power to grant him would not be withheld by the Queen to the graceful and accomplished cavalier who was

so willing to aid her design. The arrogant prelate put on these words their most liberal construction, and probably not less to his amazement than delight, his overtures were accepted. A secret interview with a disguised lady, under the cover of the night and in the groves of Versailles, crowned his felicity. It is wonderful how a man so well acquainted with the court could have mistaken a professional character of the very lowest class, named Oliva, (for it was no other whom he had thus encountered,) for the stately and beautiful Marie Antoinette. The very signature to the procuration should have warned him of the imposture. Their simple initials, or at most the Christian name, was the only method of signature to the Queens of France. It is true, and the circumstance is worth noting, that there dwelt at that time, in a small mansion in the park at Versailles, a daughter of Joseph II., (brother of Marie Antoinette) by a morganatic marriage with the Countess Wilhelmine de B-, whose resemblance to her aunt was of the most striking character. But this young lady lived in the most perfect seclusion with a single governess, receiving no company but the Queen and the Princess Royal, (afterwards, in our day, Duchesse d'Angoulème,) and the secret of her origin was limited to the breasts of her visitors.

It is only from the revelations of the Princess de Lamballe, that innocent but ill-fated friend of the Queen's, that this narrative has reached us. And there also remains no doubt of the identity of the woman Oliva with the pretended Queen. In raptures with his success, the Cardinal flew to M. Boehmer and greedily acceded to his terms. The necklace was handed over to the Countess to be delivered to the Queen; her husband at once conveyed it to England, and there, breaking it up, he soon managed to dispose of his ill-gotten spoil. What share Cagliostro had in this scheme we cannot point out with precision. Probably, however, his master-hand merely traced out the movements to be made, leaving to his subordinate the danger and the execution. Certain it is, that Retaux de Villette was the forger of the letter, and that no legal proof could be found to implicate Cagliostro in the meshes of Justice, or even to destroy him in the eyes of the Cardinal. For, as in all such cases, a day of reckoning came at last. The

jeweler, astonished at not receiving the first six months' installment, appealed to the Queen. An investigation followed, and everything became manifest. The Cardinal was publicly taken into custody, to the prodigious indignation of the Prince de Condé, the Marshal de Soubise, the Princess de Marsan, and all the other branches and connections of the Rohan family, who had not yet recovered from the shock they had received at the tremendous bankruptcy of the Prince de Guéménée, an important scion of that house. But all was in vain; nothing but the Cardinal's public disgrace could avenge the deeds of his insolent ambition and the scandal he had brought upon the names of his sovereigns. In vain did Pope Pius VI. claim for him, on the ground of his spiritual functions, exemption from trial by an ordinary court of justice. And though the result of this trial was the discharge of the accused, yet his reputation was ruined by the strange developments it occasioned. All the sums raised by his subjects for the restoration of the Chateau de Savergne had been shamelessly appropriated by its resident to far different purposes. A thousand other peccadilloes came to light; a thousand epigrams, ballads, squibs were circulated against him. Even the children in the streets went about singing

Et l'innocente candeur

Du prélat de Savergne Va briller comme un docteur Dans une lanterne.

As for the Countess de la Motte, des

pite her noble blood, she was sentenced to be flogged through the streets with a halter about her neck, to be branded on both shoulders, and shut up for the rest of her life in la Salpêtrière.

But where, all this while, was his Excellency the Count Alexander? Released from the Bastile for lack of legal evidence against him, his wanderings began anew. From London, by slow stages, he proceeded Italyward, till at last, in an evil hour for himself, he arrived in Rome. There he was arrested

on what charge does the reader suppose? Of nothing less than of being a Free Mason! Alas! all his subtilties and shifts could not avail him here; the facts were too strongly proven against him. Convicted upon this accusation, he was sent to prison for the remainder of his days, and in the year 1795 died in his dungeon. So perished the prince of liars and impostors, and one of the most ingenious of men, leaving behind him a reputation so parti-colored (according to the various lights in which it had been visible to men's eyes), that while nine-tenths of the world reviled him as a rogue and a charlatan, the remaining decimal part venerated him as a saint and a martyr. We have seen an engraved copy of his portrait-thousands of which were dispersed over Europe-bearing this modest inscription, of whose justice our readers may best judge:

De l'Ami des Humains reconaissez les traits: Tous ses jours sont marqués par de nouveaux bien.

faits:

Il prolonge la vie, il secourt l'indigence;
Le plaisir d'être utile est seul sa recompense.

THE HE Academy opened its exhibition of this year under new circumstances, and, by an address prefixed to the catalogue, called the attention of the public to itself. Having sold its real estate, and, therefore, being free of all hindrances to any change of form or system of operations, it seems a fit time to examine into the nature of its relations to Art and the influence it has exerted among us, in order that the appeal implied in its address may be duly considered, and, if justifiable, responded to.

The appellation " Academy," assumed by it, is surely a misnomer, for it sustains in nowise the position of an institution for the education of artists. It has had life and antique schools; but those are small parts of the requirements of art-education, if, indeed, of positive use. It is like the Royal Academy in London, in imitation of which it was organized, simply and solely a society of artists united for mutual benefit. It was not the nurse but the child of American Art, and it still exists as such, doing in itself nothing to advance the Art, but always supported by the eminence of its members. It was, at its foundation, only the associated individualities of Morse, Inman, Durand, Cole and others, and had an existence for the public only on the walls of the exhibition room. So it is now -the names are somewhat changed since its formation, but it is still only an aggregate of individual talent, and the sole work accomplished by it is, to make its annual gatherings of new pictures. It is a burden borne by the artists-not an institution strengthening them and is rather to be considered as an evidence of the vigor of American Art and the energy and talent of its professors, than as an agent in its progress. Organized in 1826, it has maintained itself and accumulated property by the attraction of its exhibitions; it has made known to the public some new artists and afforded the opportunity to see many fine pictures. As a society, having for its object the advancement of the interests of the artists, it is unobjectionable; but, as a school for bewildered and light-seeking talent, it has only a nominal existence. We do not say this in blame,

but to account for the apathy of the public towards it-to show why it has never been the recipient of any gratuity, appropriation or bequest whatever, from the State, the City, or from individuals." It has not labored for the public and the public has not, of course, paid it for working for itself.

Now, however, that it is at liberty to adopt new arrangements it seems worth while to ask if it can do more than it has done. Artists themselves must indicate the direction in which it can move with advantage to them, but we think that there can hardly be a doubt that, if the Academy were to establish some elementary schools on a liberal plan, free to all, and embracing more than mere antique and life schools, say, for instance, costume schools, elementary instruction in painting, including the methods of using the materials of Art so eagerly desired by all tyros and really of essential use in giving them confidence in their own ability, classes in perspective, and familiar lectures on the principles of design, particularly for mechanics and those who in their avocations need the application of those principles, the public would cheerfully sustain it in the work.

If this is not feasible, then nothing remains but that it should still exist as a society for the indirect encouragement of the Arts of Design, and, employing its means in the erection of new galleries, give us, year after year, its gatherings of the works of our artists, attempting no more and doing this conscientiously and well. We cannot spare the exhibition. It is the only means which the public at large has for learning the position and advance of Art among us, and the only opportunity our artists have of comparing their works. On the walls of the Academy we have followed Cole through his progress, and seen Durand, year after year, working out his problem of originality, and Cropsey, Kensett, Church, and their brethren of the younger generation, growing up into notice and excellence. Each exhibition has shown an increase of numbers in the artistic ranks, and a higher attainment of technical ability than the previous one manifested. We confess to a kind of respect for the institution,

but not so high a reverence that we would not willingly see it pushed away by something that would do a better

work.

We do not, therefore, attribute any great influence to the institution itself, though we say that by its means the public has become acquainted with all of true and valuable that American Art has at present. We do not forget Allston, Vanderlyn, Trumbull, and their cotemporaries; but in their day Art was an exotic transplanted here, and refused to maintain its existence under the circumstances in which it found itself. The last leaves which fell from it were Vanderlyn and Cole. They were pendants of the old system, that of nutriment and treatment rather than of positive knowledge. They had their triumphs, but they were rather those which consisted in creditably rivaling their masters, than in developing new and peculiar features of artistic wisdom. Their faces were like all their earlier confreres, turned backward, and they dreamed in the past-in the Art of Claude and Titian-rather than lived in earnest, looking forward to unexplored fields. They were not new men-not American, therefore-but from the influence of that unreal art there originated one of positive vitality. Its professors were Durand, Inman, Mount, Edmonds, Huntington and others, painters, to a greater or less extent, of things real, and of which they knew.

It may seem strange that we should draw such a dividing line between Durand and Cole, yet, such is the relation of their minds that the latter must be classed as a sentimentalist, and inclined both by feeling and study to the masters of the last phase of landscape; while the former in all respects conforms to the modern spirit, based on reality, and admitting no sentiment which is not entirely drawn from Nature. Cole was, it is true, in many cases forced into a partial recognition of the natural, but generally he seems to have regarded the forms of Nature only as characters, by means of which he impresses on us his story, and thus his pictures, though they may be poetical, are certainly not picturesque. For instance, in the "Youth," there is not an individual object in the picture which ever had its prototype in the natural world-not a tree, shrub or mountain form is there, which is not palpably a

creation of the artist's imaginative brain. With Durand, on the contrary, there are no objects, with the exception occasionally of his cloud forms, which are not actual, real. This makes the distinction between the old school and the new-with that, things were types, and so long as they were understood, it matters not how imperfectly they were expressed; with this, they are individualities, with the rights of the individual, and its influence in the general result.

With this new school we shall have to do at present, as far as it appears on the walls of the Academy's exhibition. Wherever our artists have given themselves to the admiration and following of European masters, we shall leave them to the kind of appreciation they have sought for, that which finds its enjoyment in merely technical qualities, without regard to the thought or extent of knowledge possessed by the artist. This is a species of Art which our people can never amply sympathize with, because it is an idle thing, aimless, and without root or permanence. The Art which they will have, and in which, therefore, they will be benefited, is that which arises from a genuine feeling for the things with which the people have sympathy. It hardly matters whether or no the materialism of the times is an error. So long as it is the spirit of the age, Art, to be in any way successful, must carry it out. Rhapsodies, dreams, and studio vagaries will not satisfy a public sentiment accustomed to find in all other things some substantial, positive truth, something which the mind, grasping, holds ever after. If artists prefer to follow what they consider an ideal, and withdraw themselves from the appreciation of the men of their time, they may certainly do so, and perhaps, like Allston, work a mighty genius into dreams, or, like Vanderlyn, be forgotten as soon as dead. But if they seek encouragement, they must deal in wares the age has need of; and, to be immortalized, they must give their works vitality, that they may perpetuate their

kind.

First among those "men of present labor" are Durand and Mount. The latter, however, is hardly represented in this exhibition, the only picture he attempts being the " Webster among the People," and this is unworthy of him in every respect. Durand appears to