tant part of his dominions, half an hour before the guests are expected. Those who accompany him upon such occasions know nothing of what is to be done, till they are told to get their hats and swords, and that the emperor is ready. On his return from a campaign or an excursion, no man presumes to know which of the imperial palaces he will drive to; but the keepers of all, from St. Cloud to Fontainbleau, must be ready for his reception. It offends him that any one should guess at his meaning, even in trifles, and he is extremely impatient of what in the least approaches an appearance of contradiction, and so suspicious of seeming to be governed, that those who wish to bring him over to any change of opinion, must use great circumspection. Mounier, a distinguished name in the earlier part of the revolution, who died the other day, was almost the only one of his counsellors who dared to differ from him, and this would render him at times outrageous and even abusive; but I find by the Moniteur, that he has provided very handsomely for Mounier's children.

In speaking of this extraordinary man, we ought always to bear in mind his singular elevation from so low an origin. No degree of good sense, perhaps, which heaven ever blessed an individual with, could have withstood so much flattery, so much success, so much of what the world call prosperity, such abject servility in those who were but a few years ago his equals, and such mean compliances in the neighbouring princes. We cannot be surprised, therefore, if Bonaparte should be among men, and with sovereigns, even what a bold and fractious child, who has never known restraint, is with other children. Had he lived some centuries ago, his flatterers might easily have persuaded him, that the name he had borne before his exaltation was by no means that which belonged to him. They would have traced his lineage to a much higher source, and have made him the son of Hercules or of Jupiter Ammon.

Notwithstanding his long established habits of dissimulation, for there are cases in which he condescends to dissemble, his prudence has sometimes so far forsaken him, that he has spoken contemptuously of the nation over whom he rules, and ridiculed their frequent changes of government. On its being once mentioned to him, as a reason for patronising the first production of an author, and for its having been thought proper to speak more favourably of him in a review, than his work, perhaps, intrinsically deserved, that the young man was of a family long distinguished in the annals of literature, "Why you would not surely," said the emperor, carry your ideas of hereditary right so far! no, no, whatever we lose, let us, at least, preserve the republic of letters."

He is not a member of this more than of any other republic; he writes incorrectly, and in a very bad style,* and is far from being eloquent in speech. His sentences hang awkwardly together, and are produced by starts; there is something, nevertheless, which Plutarch might have quoted as worthy of a Spartan, in his answer to marshal Soult, at the battle of Austerlitz. "The marshal is embarrassed, sire," said the aid de camp, "at the superior force of Russians which is moving to attack him, and foresees that he may be obliged to shift his ground." “Tell Soult I foresee no such thing" was the answer.

"He must die where he is."

He has no respect for the nation, as I have observed, nor have they any affection for him. Even his victories and acquisitions of territory and influence no longer flatter them. They seem to fear, and perhaps with reason, that France may sink at last to be a mere province in some great western empire, the plan of which appears every day to be more and more unfolded. Of the parties which divide the nation, the royalists cannot like, and the republicans and jacobins must hate him, while many others who are indifferent to the form of government, and would sacrifice a great deal for domestic security, complain bitterly of taxes, and groan under the loss of their children by the conscription. Others, again, feel hurt and offended at the elevation of several individuals whom they remember as equals, or perhaps inferiors, and they must all agree in deploring those measures which have led to the arbitrary and despotic government of a single person who was no way entitled to any such elevation.

A great deal more has been published of him than could well be known. Great allowances, too, ought to be made for the resentment of those whom he has injured, and the jealousy and malignity of others. I believe, however, that, like the emperor Valentinian, whom he is not unlike in fortune and character, he is frequently more apt to indulge the furious emotions of temper, than to consult the dictates of reason and magnanimity. The expressions which he gives vent to on those occasions are not, indeed, quite as fatal to the object of his anger as thost of Valentinian. He does not call out "Strike off his head; burn

**I have seen several productions of his which would not bear criticism; but the following letter, which was addressed to the widow of admiral B- after the battle of Aboukir, gives a very good idea of his style: Je sens vivement votre douleur. Le moment qui nous separe de l'objet que nous aimons est terrible. Il nous isole de la terre; il fait éprouver au corps les convulsions de l'agonie; les facultés de l'ame sont aneanties; elle ne conserve de relation avec l'univers qu'au travers d'un cauchemar qui altere tout. Les hommes paroissent plus froids, plus egoistes, plus méchants, plus odieux qu'ils ne le sont réellement. L'on sent dans cette situation que si rien ne nous obligeoit a la vie il vaudroit beaucoup mieux mourir. Mais lorsque apres cette premiere pensée l' on presse ses enfans contre son cœur, des larmes, des sentimens tendres raniment la Nature, et l'on vit pour ses enfans, &c. See Pieces officielles de l'armée d'Egypte.

him to death; beat him with a club till he expires;" but he is passionate, and, in such moments, he spares no opprobrious epithet which a life for the most part spent in camps has brought him acquainted with, and his ministers are said sometimes to bear the marks of his displeasure, as in the good old times of the czar Peter. There is a humble civility of demeanor, too, in his menial servants which indicates a strict and regular master; but he has been singularly attentive to all his relations, and respectful towards his mother. He had a great deal of trouble with them all when he was first forming his court, and spared no pains to have them instructed in every sort of regal etiquette, the memory of which had been retained by a few old attendants of the exiled family, who had survived the revolution. His sisters are said to have provoked him extremely, upon these occasions, by their indocility, and by their sometimes laughing when they should have gravely taken their lessons; but the empress, who had formerly lived at court, has more easily assumed the manners proper to her high station, and plays her part to perfection. She is said to be always affable and generous where she can, and as she dresses to advantage, there are times when she is still a pretty woman; being no longer exposed to the temptation of gaming and to various sorts of extravagance, she is much better spoken of than during the consular government, when her custom was one of the greatest misfortunes that could befal a milliner or shopkeeper of any sort, and her stopping at a house in travelling a very serious calamity to the owners of it. Scandal, which, for a time, made so very free with her name, now leaves her unmolested; nor is it very busy with the emperor, who, in deviating into some irregularities, has been merely biassed, I am persuaded, by the desire of appearing what the world had been accustomed to in persons of his rank, like Mr. Jourdain, in the Bourgeoise Gentilhomme, who, wishing it to be forgotten that he had ever kept a shop, was desirous of giving concerts on a Wednesday, as he was told all the nobility did.

I have seen two of his brothers: Joseph, whom he is endeavouring to make king of Naples, and Louis, for whom he is looking about for a settlement. They are said to be, both of them, men of unambitious tempers and domestic habits. Joseph lives with great magnificence in the country, but has not showed himself much in Paris this winter, and has never been as happy, perhaps, as when his hopes of fortune were built upon a contract for supplying the cavalry with saddles. He is said to be a man of sound judgment, and very much relied upon by his brother; the other is a slender sickly-looking man, with a solemn and thoughtful countenance. He has been deprived of the use of his right arm by a stroke of the palsy, is unfit for any active pursuits, and would gladly, I believe, lead a life of retirement. Lucien, who has acted a

Having

distinguished part in the revolution, I have never seen. amassed vast sums of money when in power, he has lived for some time at a distance from court, but in the style of a prince. He has never, it is said, approved of Napoleon's usurpation, nor would he consent to be divorced from his wife, to whom the other had taken an objection, on the score of character, or of former connexions. When pressed upon this subject, he not only resolutely refused, but threw out some reflections upon the choice which his brother had made of a companion for life, adding, that he believed the emperor took him for a Frenchman. There are several sisters of the family; but the only one I have seen is madame Murat, who is handsome, with a great deal of the Napoleon character, however, in her face. The princess Louis has nothing distinguished in her appearance; but seems good natured. It was at a meeting of the corps legislatif that I saw these ladies together with the empress. They were seated in a box immediately in front of the emperor, and at the foot of his statue, which, with less. observance of propriety than is usual in this land of taste, is placed opposite to the throne, and in a costume that partakes more of the gladiator than of the emperor.

The hall has the air of a handsome theatre, with what might be the pit and boxes thrown into one, for the accommodation of the senate, the legislative body, and the tribunate. Above is a gallery for spectators, and in the centre, facing it, is a small recess, in the nature of a stage, where the throne was placed, with room for a dozen or more persons about it.

The speech which the emperor delivered was such as you have seen it in the papers. It was replete with eulogiums on the army, nor was it less expressive of his high sense of the proofs of affection given him by the whole French nation. It contained also a wish for peace, even with England, and breathed a dreadful spirit of enmity against the queen of Naples, whom he threatened with the full weight of his implacable vengeance. He added, for the information of his faithful subjects, that a few ships had been lost in consequence of a tempest at the conclusion of an action, which had been very imprudently hazarded against superior numbers. This speech, though short, he read, and, to appearance, with some difficulty, without once removing his eyes from the paper, and without any action, except a motion of the hand when he spoke of the queen of Naples. He seemed, in short, far otherwise than I am told he is upon the field of battle. He was agitated, I observed, and he breathed with difficulty, and, whether oppressed with the splendor which surrounded him, or out of patience at the tediousness of the ceremony, there was a mixed expression of anger and of sorrow very strongly marked upon his countenance. I de

not think that in the whole course of my life I ever saw a countenance which held out less encouragement to any one who might be disposed to ask a favour from, or throw himself upon the mercy of another. I now felt more forcibly than I had yet done in France, the blessing of being born in a free country, and as we looked down upon the plumes which waved below, it had the appearance of some splendid exhibition at the opera, while the emperor, in his Spanish dress, received with shouts of applause and the clapping of hands, and saluted again in the same manner when he had finished speaking, instead of conveying to my mind any idea of regal dignity, made me think rather of some favourite actor in Richard III, nor would the expressions which Smollet applies to this valiant usurper of the crown of England, be inapplicable on the present occasion." If cue could forget the danger of the precedent in so flagrant a usurpation, it might be confessed that Richard was, in many respects most eminently qualified to reign. He had courage, capacity, and knowledge; and he enacted wise laws and salutary regulations: but he was dark, silent, reserved, selfish, and cruel, a stranger to every soft emotion, and perfect in the arts of dissimulation. His ruling passion was ambition, and, in the gratification of this, he could trample upon any law, either human or divine; or commit any crime which, even at a hasty view, seemed necessary for his purpose."

I had liked his appearance much better a few days before, on the parade at the Carousel, where his horse, as Comines says of Charles VIII, gave a dignity to his air not unworthy the conqueror of Marengo and Austerlitz. These parades occur very frequently when he is in Paris, and draw an immense crowd, as if it were a novelty to see five or six thousand men under arms. The troops perform no evolutions, on these occasions, but remain in their ranks, while the emperor either rides or walks about, inspecting every thing, from the harnessing of the flying artillery to the cravat of a conscript. The soldiers are, for the most part, young men and very much of a size. There was nothing to be admired in their marching; but I was struck with their silence and their general air of obedience. The officers, on the contrary, make an appearance in which more of the national character is perceivable. They are frequently handsome, but seem to put on as fierce a look as possible, and have a certain semi-barbarian smartness in the size of their hats, in the manner of wearing their sash, and in the display of their whole person. This may do very well in the field, but it seems to unfit them for society, which has so far gained by the change, if half what we have heard be true, of the dissolute lives and seducing arts of their predecessors. A French officer is now dangerous only on the frontiers and to the enemy. At home he forms one of