be explicit,) I cannot give them my confidence. Pardon me, gentlemen, (bowing to them,) confidence is a plant of slow growth." Those who remember the air of condescending protection with which the bow was made and the look given, when he spoke these words, will recollect how much they themselves, at the moment, were both delighted and awed, and what they themselves then conceived of the immeasurable superiority of the orator over every human being that surrounded him. In the passages which we have cited, there is nothing which an ordinary speaker might not have said; it was the manner, and the manner only, which produced the effect.

melancholy object, as soon as Mr. Newton had left it; when you left it, it became more melancholy; now it is actually occupied by another family, even I cannot look at it without being shocked. As I walked in the garden this evening I saw the smoke issue from the studychimney, and said to myself, that used to be a sign that Mr. Newton was there; but it is so no longer. The walls of the house know nothing of the change that has taken place; the bolt of the chamber-door sounds just as it used to do; and when Mr. P- goes upstairs, for aught that I know or ever shall know, the fall of his foot could hardly perhaps be distinguished from that of Mr. Newton. But Mr. Newton's foot will never be heard upon that staircase again. These reflections and such as these occurred to me upon

the occasion;

If

I were in a condition to leave Olney too, I certainly would not stay in it. It is no attachment to the place that binds me here, but an unfitness for every other. I lived in it once, but now I am buried in it, and have no business with the world on the outside of my sepulchre; my appearance would startle them, and theirs would be shocking to me."

How affecting is the following: "If I had strength of mind, I have not strength of body for the task which, you say, some would impose upon me. I cannot bear much thinking. The meshes of that fine network, the brain, are composed of such mere spinners' threads in me, that when a long thought finds its way into them, it buzzes and twangs, and bustles about at such a rate as seems to threaten

threaten the whole contexture.No-I must needs refer it to you again."

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My enigma will probably find you out, and you will find out my enigma, at some future time. I am not in a humour to transcribe it now. Indeed I wonder that a sportive thought should ever knock at the door of my intellects, and still more that it should gain admittance. It is as if Harlequin should intrude himself into a gloomy chamber where a corpse is deposited in state. His antic gesticulations would be unseasonable at any rate, but more especially so if they should distort the features of the mourn ful attendants into laughter. But the mind long wearied with the sameness of a dull, dreary prospect, will gladly fix its eyes on any thing that may make a little variety in its contemplation, though it were but a kitten playing with her tail."

Again, speaking of his poetic studies:

"At this season of the year, and in this gloomy uncomfortable climate, it is no easy matter for the owner of a mind like mine, to divert it from sad subjects, and fix it upon such as may administer to its amusement. Poetry, above all things, is useful to me in this respect. While I am in pursuit of pretty images, or a pretty way of expressing them, I forget every thing that is irksome, and like a boy that plays truant, determine to avail myself of the present opportunity to be amused, and to put by the disagreeable recollection, that I must, after all, go home and be whipt again."

"There is nothing but this

no occupation within my small sphere, poetry excepted-can do much toward diverting that train of melancholy thoughts, which, when I am not thus employed, are for ever pouring themselves in upon me."

The following is a singular mixture of the bright and the shadowy:

"I do not at all doubt the truth of what you say, when you complain of that crowd of trifling thoughts that pester you without ceasing; but then you always have a serious thought standing at the door of your imagination, like a justice of the peace with the riot-act in his hand, ready to read it and disperse the mob. Here lies the difference between you and me. My thoughts are clad in a sober livery, for the most part as grave as that of a bishop's servants. They turn too upon spiritual subjects, but the tallest fellow and the loudest among them all, is he who is continually crying with a loud voice, Actum est de te, periisti. You wish for more attention, I for less. Dissipation itself would be welcome to me, so it were not a vicious one; but however earnestly invited, it is coy and keeps at a distance. Yet with all this distressing gloom upon my mind, I experience, as you do, the slipperiness of the present hour, and the rapidity with which time escapes me. Every thing around us, and every thing which befals us, constitutes a variety, which, whether agreeable or otherwise, has still a thievish propensity, and steals from us days, months, and years, with such unparalleled address, that even while we say

they

they are here, they are gone. From infancy to manhood is rather a tedious period, chiefly, I suppose, because at that time we act under the control of others, and are not suffered to have a will of our own; but thence downward into the vale of years, is such a declivity, that we have just an opportunity to reflect upon the steepness of it, and then find ourselves at the bottom."

There are few, whose history both personal and mental, is more fully known than that of Cowper, but we could not resist the temptation of giving the above extracts from these volumes of his Letters so full of sadness and of beauty. He often wrote with gaiety, but it was forced and unnatural to him, all easy as it appears; and of this he says, "he has played the antic in a state of dejection, to which others are utter strangers, and assumed an air of cheerfulness and vivacity, to which he was in reality a stranger."-The contemplation of the mental portrait of Cowper is at once a source of sympathy and of pain.

4.-Count Las Cases' Journal of the Conversations of Napoleon, &c., with Historical Dictations to General Gourgaud and Count Montholon. 4 vols.

Whatever credit we may or may not give to the dictator of these volumes for fair unvarnished truth, their contents cannot fail to be interesting. In them Napoleon is avowedly telling his own tale, and defending himself; and we are at least enabled to see things under different glosses, although we may find nothing

sufficiently plausible to make us alter our former opinions. It is not to be wondered at that a man, with a mind like the mind of Bonaparte, should have much to say for himself, even where least was expected. He needed defending by some one, and several of his principal agents have since followed his example of self-defence; but it may be apprehended the truth of history will not be much elicited by their apologies.

These volumes contain the sentiments of Bonaparte upon history, politics, public characters, account of his confinement at St. Helena, and his conversations upon indifferent subjects; they conclude with an account of his death.

Las Cases' account is particularly interesting. From his personal intimacy with Bonaparte he must necessarily have known more than any of the English writers who preceded him. He begins immediately after the battle of Waterloo.

The Count justly remarks, that we never commence the perusal of any history, without first wishing to know something of the character of its author. He therefore relates a few facts respecting his own past life. When the French Revolution broke out, Count Lás Cases was a lieutenant-de-vaisseau, which corresponded with the rank of a field-officer in the line; but his rank opened the way to high professional prospects. Deprived, however, by the vices of the old political system, of a solid and finished education-being full of aristocratic prejudices, and prompted by his youth to generous resolves, he was among the first to hasten abroad and join the

emigrant

emigrant princes. Having narrowly escaped being landed in the bay of Quiberon, he began to reflect on the horror of his situation. He changed his name, and, becoming a teacher, went through a second course of education, in attempting to assist that of others. After the treaty of Amiens, the amnesty of the First Consul allowed him to enter France, where he found his patrimony disposed of; but he devoted himself to literature, and, under a feigned name, published an historical work, which re-esta blished his fortune. In process of time, he devoted himself to the new Sovereign of France. When the English invaded Flushing, he repaired as a volunteer to the Netherlands. He was nominated to the office of Chamberlain to the Emperor, and obtained a seat in the Council of State. Hence followed several confidential employments that were intrusted to him; and among these were two important missions to Holland and Illyria. At the siege of Paris, in 1814, he commanded a legion which acquired honours by its severe losses. He wished to have joined Napoleon at Fontainebleau,but could not reach him in time, and therefore passed a few months in England. On the Emperor's reappearance in France, he spontaneously repaired to him. He was present at the moment of his second abdication. About the selfishness or disinterestedness of all Las Cases's previous conduct,. there may be a question; but from the date of the Emperor's second resignation, it would be hard to deny such a follower the praise of devotedness. He had been a Chamberlain of Napoleon's

1823.

household, and a member of his Council; yet was his person hardly known to the Emperor: a circumstance this, one would think, which at least bespeaks his subserviency to have been unobtrusive. After the day of Waterloo, the Emperor's fortune was like a sinking ship, that promised more perils than prize-money to those who should cling to it. Yet Las Cases did cling to it. He requested permission to participate his master's fate. "Do you know," said Napoleon, "whither your offer may lead you?" -" I care not," said Las Cases; "I have made no calculation about it"-and he lived to write the account of this transaction in St. Helena. Fidelity is a virtue that ennobles even a slave.

On

Las Cases's book is very desultory, describing in one page the Emperor's disgust at his bad coffee, and in the next page his plans for governing an empire. In a general view, however, the subject-matter may be divided into two heads-viz. that which regards Napoleon's history as an individual and an object of personal sympathy, and that which explains his public conduct and character through the medium of his reported conversations. the latter subject, as we have already remarked, the Memoirs are more full and methodical tham Las Cases's work, so that we shall refer to the latter publication chiefly for its portraiture of Napoleon as a man and as an exile. The following summary of his situation at Rochefort, immediately before his surrender to the English, is given by Las Cases as having been dictated by Napoleon himself:-

B

"The

"The English squadron was not strong: there were two sloops of war off Bordeaux, they blockaded a French corvette, and gave chace to American vessels which sailed daily in great numbers.At the Isle of Aix we had two frigates well armed; the Vulcan corvette, one of the largest vessels of its class, and a large brig lay in the roads: the whole of this force was blockaded by an English seventy-four of the smallest class, and an indifferent sloop or two. There is not the least doubt that, by risking the sacrifice of one or two of our ships, we should have passed; but the senior captain was deficient in resolution, and refused to sail; the second in command was quite determined, and would have made the attempt: the former had probably received secret instructions from Fouché, who already openly betrayed the Emperor, and wanted to give him up. However that may be, there was nothing to be done by sea. The Emperor then

landed at the Isle of Aix.

66

"Had the mission been confided to Admiral Werhuel," said Napoleon, as was promised on our departure from Paris, it is probable he would have sailed." The officers and crews of both frigates were full of attachment and enthusiasm. The garrison of Aix was composed of fifteen hundred seamen, forming a very fine regiment; the officers were so indignant at the frigate not sailing, that they proposed to fit out two chasse-marées of fifteen tons each. The midshipmen wished to navigate them; but when on the point of putting this plan into execution, it was said there would be great difficulty in

gaining the American coast without touching on some point of Spain or Portugal.

Under these circumstances, the Emperor composed a species of council from amongst the individuals of his suite. Here it was represented that we could no longer calculate on the frigates or other armed vessels: that the chasse-marées held out no probable chance of success, and could only lead to capture by the English cruisers in the open sea, or to falling into the hands of the allies. Only two alternatives remained; that of marching towards the interior, once more to try the fate of arms; or that of seeking an asylum in England. To follow up the first, there were fifteen hundred seamen, full of zeal and willing to act: the commandant of the Island was an old officer of the army of Egypt, entirely devoted to Napoleon: the Emperor would have proceeded at the head of these to Rochefort, where the corps would have been increased by the garrison, which was also extremely well disposed. The garrison of La Rochelle, composed of four battalions of federated troops, had offered their services: with these we might then have joined General Clausel, so firmly fixed at the head of the army at Bordeaux, or General Lamarque, who had performed prodigies with that of La Vendée; both these officers expected and wished to see Napoleon it would have been exceedingly easy to maintain a civil war in the inte rior. But Paris was taken, and the Chambers had been dissolved; there were, besides, from five to six hundred thousand of the enemy's troops in France: a civil

war