stockings all in one. A chequered red madras upon his head, and his shirt collar open without a cravat. His air was melancholy and troubled. Before him stood a little round table, with some books, at the foot of which lay, in confusion upon the carpet, a heap of those which he had already perused, and at the foot of the sofa -facing him was suspended a portrait of the Empress Marie Louise, with her son in her arms. In front of the fire-place stood Las Cases, with his arms folded over his breast, and some papers in one of his hands. Of all the former magnificence of the once mighty emperor of France, nothing was present except a superb wash-hand stand, containing a silver basin and waterjug of the same metal, in the left hand

corner.

In this country it has been generally supposed that Buonaparte had no other influence with the French than that of fear, but it appears that we judged of our neighbours by ourselves, and it is certain, that we feared him as much as we hated him.

We had good reason for it; they, however, had not, or at least, Buonaparte thought they had not; he fancied that the French people loved him, and he tells some anecdotes, which, if true, would go far to prove it: as these are given in his own language, or nearly so, we cannot do better than quote one of them:

Napoleon showed me the marks of two wounds, one a very deep cicatrice above the left knee, which he said he had received in his first campaign of Italy, and it was of so serious a nature, that the surgeons were in doubt whether it might not be ultimately necessary to amputate. He observed, that when he was wounded, it was always kept a secret, in order not to discourage the soldiers. The other was on the toe, and had been received at Eckmühl. "At the siege of Acre," continued he, " a shell thrown by Sydney Smith fell at my feet. Two soldiers, who were close by, seized, and closely embraced me, one in front and the other on one side, and made a rampart of their bodies for me against the effect of the shell, which exploded, and overwhelmed us with sand. We sunk into the hole formed by its bursting; one of them was wounded. I made them both officers. One has since lost a leg at Moscow, and commanded at Vincennes when I left Paris. When he was summoned by the Russians, he replied, that as soon as they sent him back the leg he had lost at Moscow, he would surrender the fortress. Many times in my life," continued he, "have I been saved by soldiers and officers throwing themselves before me when I was in the most

imminent danger. At Arcola, when I was advancing, Colonel Meuron, my aid-decamp, threw himself before me, covered me with his body, and received the wound which was destined for me. He fell at my feet, and his blood spouted up in my face. He gave his life to preserve mine. Never yet, I believe, has there been such devotion shown by soldiers as mine have manifested for me. In all my misfortunes, never has the soldier, even when expiring, been wanting to me-never has man been served more faithfully by his troops. With the last drop of blood gushing out of their veins, they exclaimed, Vive l'Empereur!"

The account of Moreau's death, as coming from Buonaparte, is well worthy of quotation.

"In the battle before Dresden, I ordered an attack to be made upon the allies by both flanks of my army. While the manœuvres for this purpose were executing, the centre remained motionless. At the distance of about from this to the outer gate, I observed a group of persons collected together on horseback. Concluding that they were endeavouring to observe my manœuvres, I resolved to disturb them, and called to a captain of artillery, who commanded a field battery of eighteen or twenty pieces: "Jettez une douzaine de boulets à la fois dans ce groupe là, peutêtre il y en a quelques petits généraux."

(Throw a dozen of bullets at once into that group; perhaps there are some little generals in it.) It was done instantly. One of the balls struck Moreau, carried off both his legs, and went through his horse. Many more, I believe, who were near him, were killed and wounded. A moment before Alexander had been speaking to him. Morcau's legs were amputated not far from the spot. One of his feet, with the boot upon it, which the surgeon had thrown upon the ground, was brought by a peasant to the king of Saxony, with information that some officer of great distinction had been struck by a cannon shot. The king, conceiving that the name of the person might perhaps be discovered by the boot, sent it to me. It was examined at my head-quarters, but all that could be ascertained was, that the boot was neither of English nor of French manufacture. The next day we were informed that it was the leg of Moreau. It is not a little extraordinary," continued Napoleon, " that in an action a short time afterwards, I ordered the same artillery officer, with the same guns, and under nearly similar circumstances, to throw eighteen or twenty bullets at once into a concourse of officers collected together, by which General St. Priest, another Frenchman, a traitor and a man of talent, who had a command in the Russian

army, was killed, along with many others. Nothing," continued the Emperor, " is more destructive than a discharge of a dozen or more guns at once amongst a group of persons. From one or two they may escape; but from a number discharg

ed at a time, it is almost impossible. After

Esling, when I had caused my army to go

over to the isle of Lobau, there was for some weeks, by common and tacit consent on both sides between the soldiers, not by any agreement between the generals, a cessation of firing, which indeed had preduced no benefit, and only killed a few unfortunate sentinels. I rode out every day in different directions. No person was molested on either side. One day, however, riding along with Oudinot, I stopped for a moment upon the edge of the island, which was about eighty toises distant from the opposite bank, where the enemy was. They

perceived us, and knowing me by the little hat and grey coat, they pointed a threepounder at us. The ball passed between Oudinot and me, and was very close to both of us. We put spurs to our horses, and speedily got out of sight. Under the actual circumstances, the attack was little better than murder, but if they had fired a dozen guns at once they must have killed

us.

We now come to a subject more peculiarly interesting to the English reader-the battle of Waterloo-a battle, which, whether for the severity of its action, or the importance of its results, has not been equalled since the day of Marathon. Every Englishman will be naturally anxious to hear Napoleon's opinion of his great rival, but we fear that he will be little satisfied when he has heard it, for it is not very favourable to the glory of our general. Napoleon asserts, that the Duke committed two capital blunders; first, in suffering himself to be surprised; and, secondly, in giving battle, for, if defeated, he must have been utterly ruined, as he could not retreat, there being a wood in his rear, and only one road by which it could be gained. On the other hand, had he retired to Antwerp, Buonaparte must have been overwhelmed by the armies of three or four hundred thousand men that were marching up against him. How far this judgment may be correct we are not military enough to decide; but we have sufficient philosophy to know, that the event proves nothing, either one way or the other. At the same time, it must in candour be observed, that

Buonaparte seems to be a somewhat partial judge in these matters; he affirms that the English are not calculated to make such good soldiers as the French; but if the general was

We

wrong in giving battle, and his soldiers were inferior, how did he happen to gain the victory? And what does he say for himself in having been beaten by such enemies, to whom in all respects he was so superior? He is, perhaps, more correct in stating that the strength of this country is in its navy, and no less correct in his account of our smugglers, who are the most desperate beings that have ever existed since the days of Blackbeard. know something of these wild adventurers, whose deeds, and speech, and manners, have all a romantic horror about them that does not belong to the present day; and many a tale could we fashion of them for our readers, that would blanch their cheeks more than the wildest improbabilities of fiction. The people of this country are little acquainted with their habits, or with the scenes that have been lately acted on the coast, in the attempt to put them down; an attempt which never can succeed with all the vigilance of our seamen. There is a romance in their doings as in their sufferings: disguised in the dress of the peasantry, they traverse the wildest parts of the country in the dead of night, to meet the expected boat, though the secret of its landing is known to one only, whom they follow in blind obedience. If the boat is discovered by our seamen, a light is flung into the air, or a pistol flashed off, as they term it, and she is instantly pushed off, and lost again in the darkness. If brought to close quarters they often fight desperately, though their subsequent sufferings, when wounded, are such as to beggar all description; the necessity of secrecy is paramount to all other considerations, and surgeons cannot always be trusted. We actually knew one instance of a poor wounded wretch festering for weeks on a mattress, with nothing else between him and the ground, till the straw was thoroughly soaked through by the impure flowings from the wound, and fungi sprang up from the dampness. But nothing will tame them, nor can you convince them that there is any moral turpitude in their calling; a strong instance of which we saw in an old smuggler, whose son had been shot in a fray with our seamen. The Lieutenant, as noble a being as ever served his country, begged, prayed, nay implored the old man, while the body lay stretched before him, to desist from such courses, or, at least, not to bring up his remaining son to a life so perilous, but it was all in vain; he replied, that if he had twenty sons they should do the same, and the reply was clenched by an oath too horrid for repetition. We speak of facts with which we are well acquainted, and have only softened them in our recital.

It was from these men, who in their little cock-boats bade defiance to all the vigilance of our seventyfour gunships, that Buonaparte gained his intelligence during the war, and their fidelity was always found equal to their courage. But intelligence, it seems, was not the only contraband commodity that they dealt in; they often contrived to smuggle over the French prisoners from this country, and the manner of the traffic was thus: any Frenchman, who wished to rescue his friend or his relation from English captivity, would make a bargain with the smugglers to bring him over, for a certain sum proportioned to the circumstances; and it was seldom that they failed in their purpose; all that they wanted for the business was the name and age of the prisoner to be rescued, together with some token to ensure his confidence. At first Dunkirk was the place allotted to them, but these "genti terribili," as Buonaparte terms them, grew so outrageous at last, and played such wild pranks, that he was forced to make some order for their better behaviour. A little camp was in consequence prepared for them at Gravelines, and certain limits assigned, within which their wanderings were restrained. Here they were often assembled to the number of five hundred.

Between this detail and the burning of Moscow, are many curious anecdotes that we are for the present compelled to leave untouched. Napoleon's delineations of contemporary character are admirable: Alexander,

the King of Prussia, Moreau, Soult, Pozzo di Borgo, Fouche, Talleyrand, Carnot, Robespierre, Josephine, and a hundred names familiar to history, are sketched with a strong, though rapid hand, and the stamp of truth is on the most of them. The murders of El Arish, and the poisoning at Jaffa, are fully treated; but these and many things of more importance we must pass over, and close our notice of this first volume with Buonaparte's account of the Russian conflagration.

I was in the midst of a fine city, provisioned for a year, for in Russia they always lay in provisions for several months before the frost sets in. Stores of all kinds were in plenty. The houses of the inhabitants were well provided, and many had even left their servants to attend upon us. In most of them there was a note left by the proprietor, begging the French officers who took possession to take care of their

furniture and other things; that they had

left every article necessary for our wants, and hoped to return in a few days, when the emperor Alexander had accommodated matters, at which time they would be happy to see us. Many ladies remained behind. They knew that I had been in Berlin and Vienna with my armies, and that no injury had been done to the inhabitants; and moreover, they expected a speedy peace. We were in hopes of enjoying ourselves in winter quarters, with every prospect of success in the spring. Two days after our arrival, a fire was discovered, which at first was not supposed to be alarming, but to have been caused by the soldiers kindling their fires too near the houses, which were chiefly of wood. I was angry at this, and issued very strict orders on the subject to the commandants of regiments and others. The next day it had advanced, but still not so as to give serious alarm. However, afraid that it might gain upon us, I went out on horseback, and gave every direction to extinguish it. The next morning a violent wind arose, and the fire spread with

the greatest rapidity. Some hundred miscreants, hired for that purpose, dispersed themselves in different parts of the town, and with matches which they concealed under their cloaks, set fire to as many houses to windward as they could, which was easily done, in consequence of the combustible materials of which they were built. This, together with the violence of the wind, rendered every effort to extinguish the fire ineffectual. I myself narrowly escaped with life. In order to shew an example, I ventured into the midst of the flames, and had my hair and eye-brows singed, and my clothes burnt off my back; but it was in vain, as they had destroyed most of the pumps, of