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school-fellows? Because their circumstances are a permanent reproach as it were to his. He ridicules these young men for keeping servants, because he is not able to keep one himself: he thinks it wrong that there should be two services at meals, because when there are pic-nics amongst the boys he cannot contribute. In short, I was to see him, and I found him still more melancholy than usual. I was in doubt as to the cause, and I offered him a small sum, which perhaps he might want. He blushed deeply, his cheek then assumed its habitual yellow tinge, and he declined my proposal.' My mother observed that it was because my father made the offer in an awkward manner, for men are always very awkward. 'Well,' said my father, when I saw the young gentleman's spirit so particularly elevated, I trumped up a tale for which I have no doubt the Almighty will grant me his pardon. I told him that his father, who died in our arms at Montpellier, had placed at my disposal a small sum of money for the use of his son, which, however, was to be given to him only in small quantities when his necessities were very pressing. Napoleon looked at ine with so scrutinizing an eye as almost to disconcert me.' 'Well, Sir,' said he, since this money really comes from my father, I will take it: but had this been in the nature of a loan, I would never have accepted it. My mother is already sufficiently burdened: it is not for me to increase that burden by adding to her expences, especially when they are to be incurred in consequence of the stupid folly of my fellow-students" You see then,' concluded my father, that if his pride is so easily wounded by strangers at school, what must he suffer here, however tenderly we may treat him? Let, however, Albert continue to give his attentions, although I candidly confess my despair of seeing them end in an intimate intercourse of the parties." -pp. 76-81.



The manifestations of an impotent and dissatisfied spirit were almost of daily occurrence in the language and actions of young Buonaparte. Perhaps nothing in the book more strikingly exhibits the character of his mind than the following account. The writer relates that she was accompanying her father from St. Cyr, where he had been to see his sister, then at school in a convent, and that something had but just occurred to put the young man entirely out of temper.

"When they had got upon the coach, Napoleon burst forth into all manner of invectives against the detestable administration which governed St. Cyr, but particularly the military schools. My uncle, who was rather warm, felt displeased at the bold and bitter tone of his companion, and he told him so. Napoleon was for a time silent, for that universal respect felt by boys for those more advanced would not permit him to proceed. But his heart was all the time bursting-he turned the conversation at length to the forbidden subject, and his language at length became so offensive that my uncle was forced to say-" Hold your tongue; it is no business of yours, brought up as you have been on the charity of the King, to speak as you do." My mother told me that she thought Napoleon would have been suffocated. In a moment his face became crimson. "I am not a charity boy of the King," replied Napoleon, in a voice trembling with emotion, "I have been educated at the expence of the state !" "A fine distinction, truly," observed my uncle, "but whether you were brought

up by King or state is of no consequence. Besides, is not the King the state? And I hope, at all events, that you would not speak in this manner of your benefactor, at least before me." "I shall say nothing, sir," answered Napoleon, "that may be unpleasant to you-but you will allow me to add, that if I were the master empowered to make the regulations, they should be very different from what they are-they should be for the benefit of all." In relating this conversation, I am only desirous of recording the words "If I were the master;" because Napoleon afterwards did become the master, and what he did for the management of the Military Schools is well known. I am quite satisfied that he retained for a considerable time the painful recollection of those humiliations which he was compelled to endure at the Military School at Paris.'-pp. 109-111.

The Duchess indulges a great deal in political observations. She sketches in a vivid and striking manner some of the most extraordinary events of the famous revolution. Her characters, consisting for the most part of the chief men whom that unparalleled convulsion had thrown up from the chaos of society, are drawn with considerable power. She really seems to speak of persons and events with the greatest candour, and in general she is very happy and graceful, and certainly always entertaining, in her portraits. The remembrance of those scenes of horror which she witnessed in Paris, during the commencement of the revolution, when the more flagrant atrocities were perpetrated, seems to revive in her soul those emotions of terror with which the reality must have originally inspired her. She paints them in a most graphic manner; but without any apparent effort at dramatic effect. Indeed we may remark that little of affectation is in general to be met with in a French memoir. That species of intellectual exertion seems to be a national habit with our neighbours, and they acquit themselves in it naturally and mechanically, never supposing that any extraordinary endeavours are required. Hence, their execution in this branch of literature is quite unequalled, so that it would be next to impossible to detect, in the French language, a memoir that is even indifferent.

The Duchess gives us a very brilliant account of the clever but unfortunate Mirabeau, and she thinks him by far the most amply endowed man which the fermentation of the revolution produced. She adds a very curious account of an attempt which was made on the part of the Queen to buy over Mirabeau, when she found that he was, as a member of the states general, about to take a part against her. She couples his name also with an incident which she adduces, to confirm her notion that a fatality pursued the Bourbon race from about the middle of the last century. She says that the Queen resolved to bribe Mirabeau at least into silence, knowing that he avowed hostile intentions against her. An agent accordingly waited upon this gifted man with the usual instrument of corruption-plenty of money. "But," says the noble authoress, and we cannot do less than quote her words.

'But on account of that ill luck which is inherent in every undertaking of the Bourbons, it so happened that this very man (Mirabeau) who never before had money, who was always in need, and continually dunned by his creditors who never had even enough for himself-it so happened that this man now had money, and that he was certain of having more. The truth is, that he refused the proffered bribe and bowed his visitor out of the room with a dignity full worthy of the elder of the Gracchi.'-p. 162. "Well," adds the Countess in another place, "who can hope for success in the case of one that has been destined to misfortune? The question of fate, so long a subject of dispute, and still so little understood, may be greatly elucidated by a reference to those successive misfortunes which nothing can arrest. Whatever a particular person does, whatever he undertakes, the seal of ill luck is fixed to his destiny-and nothing can remove it. There it is-stuck, as it were, to the certificate, which misfortune has issued-its characters traced with a pen of iron. Against this fatal decree how vain is all the opposition which the ingenuity of man and the intensity of his desire to be happy can engender. Happy! what is it a man will not do to make himself happy? Is there any enterprize deemed insuperable which has a chance of conferring happiness? And yet what is the first expression of the crowd when there is presented before it an unhappy object which is calculated to excite its sympathy-“ We must not grieve, he is the author of his own ruin-fool !-idiot!"-nay, often, the unhappy man is denounced as a criminal. This is meant particularly for the Bourbons-for it is impossible that any body could be influenced by a star more inauspiciously placed than that of the Bourbon race, since the middle of the last century, Countries there are no doubt where pity and sympathy would be felt for their calamities: but here, the bitterest inculpation is sure to fall upon the most insignificant of their acts. pp. 160, 161.

We return with pleasure to some of the anecdotes which Madame Junot relates of the early life of Napoleon.

'It was in the spring of 1793, before repairing to Toulon, that Buona parte, having obtained a furlough, made a journey to Corsica. He took up his residence, immediately on his arrival at Ajaccio, near the Porte-deMer, at an old countess's of the name of Rossi, a friend of his family. I cannot explain the reason of his not going to sojourn with his mother. However, there was club established at the time outside the town, consisting of a great many orators, and Napoleon was an active member. The people of Ajaccio became alarmed at the influence of the club, and they formed another society, with many of the members of which I myself was acquainted. Amongst others, I knew a sea captain, whose ship was at the time in the roadstead, and who, by his intelligence and courage, and his well marked Breton head, was very well calculated to oppose the leaders of the original association, in case they thought of molesting the new club. The object of the latter was to preserve peace, and put down any disorders. The conduct of the first club appeared to be so opposed to the public tranquillity, as that a deputation from the rival body waited upon them to remonstrate and represent the injuries which they were doing to the quiet and order of the district. Our naval captain headed this deputation, which consisted only of himself and three other members of

the new society. They exhorted the old club to cultivate principles of peace, and adopt the example which had been set them by the republican government. Buonaparte, upon this, ascended the tribune, and delivered a most forcible speech, the purport of which was that in times of revolution, every man must be either a friend or foe of the new order of things. He told his audience that Solon inflicted the penalty of death on all who took a neutral part during the rage of civil commotions, and he concluded by denouncing as enemies to their country, all who in the existing juncture were moderate. As soon as the sitting was over, Napoleon proceeded to the square, where he appeared much excited, and very little disposed to conciliation. His bearing, however, had very little influence in intimidating my friend, who, as he was well acquainted with Napoleon, was enabled to remonstrate with him in strong terms upon the course he had taken in the debate. "Bah," exclaimed Buonaparte, "that's all the mere style of the club, man. But you, my friend, how is it that with all your talents you cannot see the advantage of assuming a firm attitude? how is it that you do not take the high road, instead of confining yourself to a mere by-path." "The by-path," replied my friend, "which I have chosen, is as strait, and perhaps straiter, than the road on which you, Buonaparte, may one day meet your destruction, and it is in the name of the friendship which I bear your that I now beseech you to abandon your present tactics.” Buonaparte knit his brows, and turning about, sought some of his turbulent colleagues of the club.'-pp. 229-231.

A few days after this occurrence, Buonaparte was informed by the same friend, that about a thousand of the country people were about to make a descent upon the town, and would direct their vengeance principally against him. He profited by the intelligence, and assuming the disguise of a sailor, he was rowed off the isle the same night to a place of safety. It was very shortly after this event that he received his appointment at the siege of Toulon. Here, too, it appears that Napoleon was the same, unsociable carping, and discontented person that he was at the military school. The officers were prejudiced against him, but his abilities and skill commanded the confidence of the besieging army, though he was no more at the time than five and twenty years old. We must pass over a great deal of very interesting and agreeable writing, in which the Duchess exhibits the very first order of powers for delineating character. We particularly allude to her whole account of Salicetti, one of those men whose fortunes appear to be the realization of some strange vision, created by a distempered imagination. We cannot, however, omit the passage in which she speaks of one of her husband's early attachments, if it were only to shew the philosophy with which a French lady can talk of a subject connected with a hazard that must have been dreadful for her to contemplate. The time of the following scene was just at the breaking out of the revolution. We must premise that both Napoleon and Junot were in the habit, in common indeed with every conspicuous man in Paris, of frequenting the Garden of Plants, which at that time com

bined both for the gratification of the senses, and the mind, materials such as we never shall expect to see associated again.


'One evening' writes the Duchess they (Buonaparte and Junot) plunged into the thickest of the shades in the garden, where the breath of myriads of flowers shed the most balmy perfume around. The air was mild, and the two friends paced the walk, arm in arm, for the epaulette no longer interposed to disturb the most perfect equality between them. Beneath a clear and beautiful sky, and surrounded by beds of the most beautiful and precious flowers, and touched by the charming scene, the two friends opened their hearts to each other. The influence of a lovely night is powerful on those who feel strongly. Buonaparte was afterwards governed by a ruling passion which absolutely parched up his heart, and which told. him-" I shall reign alone over thee"-I need not name this passion. But at the period to which I allude he was very young: his heart beat rather violently under the influence of a passion for a lady, and he was fairly in love. He spoke of his passion to Junot, and spoke of it with bitterness too, for he was far from being happy. Junot has told me that if Buonaparte had not of his own accord severed every tie which subjected his heart to the passions, he would have felt them in a terrible manner. Upon the evening of which I speak, in mentioning this matter to Junot, his voice trembled, and Junot observed how he was affected. But he suddenly broke off the conversation and appeared to have forgotten his emotion.

'Nothing begets confidence so much as confidence. Junot's heart was full of such thoughts as could only be disclosed to a friend--but for a long time he gave his confidence to Napoleon. Junot was in love, foolishly in love, with Paulette Buonaparte. His young and burning heart could not resist at the sight of so enchanting a creature as Paulette-he loved her with passion-he loved her to distraction-and honour compelled him to declare it to Buonaparte. The latter neither rejected nor accepted his proposal, but consoled him, and raised his spirits very much by telling him it was quite certain that Paulette would reply "Yes," with pleasure, on the day when Junot might be able to offer her an establishment; not, indeed, a very opulent one, but such as would secure them from the hazard of bringing children into the world in poverty. Junot, thus excited, became very importunate, and showed Buonaparte a letter which he had received from his father, and in which the writer said that at present he could give his son nothing, but that his ultimate share would be twenty thousand francs. "I shall then be rich," said Junot to Buonaparte, "for, with my estate, I shall have 1200 livres de rentes. I conjure you, then, to write for your mother's consent." They left the garden, crossed the water in a boat, and promenaded for some time that part of the Boulevard which is opposite the Chinese baths. Buonaparte all this time listened to Junot attentively; but he was no longer the same man that had been just enjoying the delights of the garden with Junot: in returning to the tumult of the city, his soul seemed to have been kindled to the recollection of those dependencies and obligations which are essential to a state of society. His manner, however, was still affectionate, and he thus admonished his friend :— "I cannot apply to my mother in this matter, for it appears that you are to have 1200 livres de rentes, which is very well-but you have not them now. Your father, I dare say, is in very good health, and may make you

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