tion, abominable intrenchments. Las Cases had formerly visited (he says) certain prisons in England, and had indulged in a smile at the kind of luxury which he observed in them. But there are no offences, he says, or even crimes, that would not be fully expiated by a mere residence in those prisons, to which people were sent only on accusation. In one of these, at Mount St. Michel, Las Cases found a woman, whose name he had forgot, but who had particularly attracted his attention.

"She had rather a pretty face, pleasing manners, and a modest deportment. She had been imprisoned fourteen years, having taken a very active part in the troubles of La Vendée, and constantly accompanied her husband, who was the chief of a battalion of insurgents, and whom she succeeded, after his death, in the command. The wretchedness she suffered, and the tears she shed, had sensibly impaired her charms. I assumed a severe air during the recital of her misfortunes, but it was put on for the purpose of concealing the emotions she excited. She had, by the kindness of her manners and her other qualifications, created a kind of empire over the vulgar and depraved women that were about her. She had devoted herself to the care of the sick; the prison infirmary was entrusted to her, and she was beloved by every one. With the exception of that woman, a few priests, and two or three old Chouan spies, the rest exhibited but a filthy compound of disgusting or extravagant depravity."

Among his conversations with the Emperor, Las Cases repeats a very minute account which he gave Napoleon of the first assemblage of the French royalist emigrants at Coblentz, and of the follies, prejudices, and principles which distinguished that unfortunate body of men. The picture is drawn with great vivacity, and with all the apparent fidelity of an eye-witness; and though the chapter has no immediate relation to the hero of his journal, it is nevertheless a very amusing episode. At Coblentz was collected all that was illustrious belonging to the court in France, and all that was opulent and distinguished belonging to the provinces. The emigrants were thousands in number, consisting of every branch, uniform, and rank of the army;-they peopled the town, and overran the palace. Their daily assemblages about the persons of the princes, seemed like so many splendid festivals. The court was most brilliant, and the princes were so effectually its sovereigns, that the poor Elector of Treves, whom they were eating up, and who was afterwards deprived of his possessions on their account, was eclipsed and lost in the midst of them, which induced a person to observe to him one day, either from simplicity or raillery, that among all those who thronged his palace he seemed the only stranger. On gala days, they paraded with arrogance, as it were, the whole lustre and dignity of their monarchy, and, above all, the superiority of their sovereign, and the elevation of their princes-His Majesty the King was the expression which they pompously used in the German circles to designate the King of France, for that was, or ought to be, in their opinion, his title in point of pre-eminence with respect to all Europe. Even at a later period, and during their greatest distress, an Austrian officer, after dinner, happened to say, that when he came from Vienna a marriage was talked of between Madame Royale (now Duchesse D'Angoulême) and the Archduke Charles, who at that time enjoyed great celebrity. "But it is impossible," observed one of his French guests. "And why?" "Because it is not a suitable marriage for Madame." "How?" exclaimed

the Austrian, seriously offended, and almost breathless; "The Archduke Charles not a suitable marriage for your princess!" "Oh no, Sir;-it would be but a garrison marriage for her." So highly wound up were their expectations, that the emigrants who were later in arriving were ill received. It was maintained that all merit on that score was at an end, that if all who came should be received in the same way, the whole of France would soon be on their side, and there would be no longer any person to punish. As a mark of the political principles that prevailed, the Prince de St. Maurice was chased from among the emigrants-for having belonged to the society of the friends of the negroes. The appearance of the Duke of Brunswick at Coblentz, and the arrival of the King of Prussia at the head of his troops, were great subjects of joy and expectation for almost the whole of the emigration. There were a few persons, however, who had the discernment to perceive from the beginning, how the affair would end. Among these was Monsieur de Cazalès, now an emigrant, who had filled France and Europe with the celebrity of his eloquence and courage in the national assembly. When his countrymen beheld with delight the Prussians, as they filed off through the streets of Coblentz, -"Foolish boys," he exclaimed," you admire those troops and rejoice at their march. You ought rather to shudder at it. For my own part, I should wish to see these soldiers, to the last man of them, plunged into the Rhine. Unhappy are they who incite foreigners to invade their country. Oh, my friends, the French nobility will not survive this atrocity. They will have the affliction of expiring far from the places of their birth." The emigrants (he adds) might be estimated at 20 or 25,000 men under arms. Such a force, filled with ardour and devotion, fighting for its own interests and maintaining an understanding with the sympathetic elements of the interior, might have been capable of striking the decisive blows. But the allies meant to do the work themselves, and they annihilated the emigrant army, by parcelling it out into different corps, and by making these prisoners, as it were, in the heart of the German troops. Their entrance into France soon dispelled all illusion about the dispositions of the main body of the French people, by whom they were execrated as traitors and patricides, instead of being welcomed as deliverers. When they were quartered at Verdun, Las Cases tells us that "some of his comrades and himself were lodged in a handsome house, but all the furniture and all the proprietors had disappeared, excepting two very pretty young ladies who put us in possession of it. This last circumstance seemed rather a favourable omen, and the royalist officers began to attempt ingratiating themselves with the females. Gentlemen,' said one of the two Amazons in rather a sharp tone, • we have remained because we felt we had the courage to tell you face to face, that our lovers are in arms against you, and that they have our prayers at least as much as our hearts.' This was intelligible language," says our author, "we wished for no more of it, and even shifted our quarters to another house."

The Imperial Exile's conversation, of course, for the most part turns on his own military exploits. Among these, the account of his return from Elba is by far the most animated part of these volumes, The interest which it excites is indeed dramatic.

We select, at random, and without commenting upon them, some insulated anecdotes which our author gives of Napoleon.

"During the Consulate, and even during the Empire, Napoleon used at public festivals to go out late at night for the purpose of seeing the shows and hearing the sentiments of the people. He once went out in this way accompanied by Maria Louisa; and they both walked arm in arm on the Boulevards, highly amused at seeing their Majesties the Emperor and Empress, and all the grandees of the court, represented in the magic lanterns.

During the Consulate, Napoleon was once standing in front of the Hotel de la Marine, viewing a public illumination. Beside him was a lady, who to all appearance had formerly moved in a distinguished sphere, accompanied by her daughter, a very pretty girl, to whom she was pointing out all the persons of note, as they passed to and fro in the apartments. Calling her daughter's attention to a certain individual, she said: Remind me to go and pay my respects to him some day. We ought to do so, for he has rendered us great service. But, mother,' replied the young lady,' I did not know that we were expected to shew gratitude to such people. I thought they were too happy in being able to oblige persons of our quality.' -Certainly,' said the Emperor, La Bruyère would have turned this incident to good account.'

"Napoleon sometimes went out in disguise early in the morning, traversing the streets of the capital alone, and mingling with the labouring classes of the people, with whose condition and sentiments he wished to make himself acquainted. In the Council of State I have often heard him advise the Prefect of Police to adopt this plan. He called it the Caliph system of police, and said he esteemed it to be the best.

"On his return from the disastrous campaigns of Moscow and Leipsic, Napoleon, in order to maintain the appearance of confidence, frequently appeared amidst the multitude with scarcely any attendants. He visited the market-places, the faubourgs, and all the populous districts of the capital, conversing familiarly with the people; and he was every where received and treated with respect.

"One day, at La Halle, a woman with whom he had been holding a little dialogue, bluntly told him he ought to make peace. Good woman," replied the Emperor, sell your herbs, and leave me to settle my affairs. Let every one attend to his own calling. The bystanders laughed, and applauded

him.

"On another occasion, at the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, when surrounded by an immense concourse of people, whom he was treating very condescendingly, some one asked whether affairs were really as bad as they were represented to be. Why, certainly,' replied the Emperor, I cannot say that things are going on very well. But what will be the end of this?'Heaven knows! Will the enemy enter France ?'-Very possibly; and he may even march to Paris if you do not assist me. I have not a million of arms. I cannot do all by my own individual efforts. We will support you,' exclaimed a number of voices. Then I shall beat the enemy, and preserve the glory of France.' But what must we do? You must enlist and fight. We will,' said one of the crowd; but we must make a few conditions!What are they? We will not pass the frontier.'- You shall not be required to do so.'-' We wish to serve in the guards,' said another. You shall do so.' " The air instantly resounded with acclamations. Registers were immediately opened, and two thousand men enlisted in course of the day. Napoleon returned to the Tuileries; and, as he entered the Place Carousel on horseback, surrounded by the multitude, whose acclamations rent the air, it was supposed that an insurrection had broken out, and the gates were about to be closed.

"On his return from the Island of Elba, the Emperor made another visit to the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, where he was received with equal enthusiasm, and conducted back to the palace in a similar manner. As he passed

through the Faubourg Saint-Germain, the multitude who escorted him halted before the principal hotels, and manifested their disapprobation by angry words and gestures. The Emperor observed that he had scarcely ever been placed in so delicate a situation. How many evils might have ensued,' said he, had a single stone been thrown by the mob. Had a single imprudent word, or even an equivocal look, escaped me, the whole Faubourg might have been destroyed; and I am convinced that its preservation was to be attributed wholly to my presence of mind, and the respect which the multitude entertained for me.

We conclude with quoting a passage from the melancholy description of the Great Captive's situation, which Las Cases exhibits on the eve of his own departure.

"During this period the Emperor's health has been constantly and considerably declining; his body, which was thought so robust, which had endured so many toils, and withstood so much fatigue, supported by victory and glory, was now bending under the weight of infirmities prematurely brought on by the injustice of men. Almost every day he is attacked by some new indisposition; fever, swelled face, symptoms of scurvy, constant colds; his features are altered, his gait becomes heavy, his legs swelled, &c. ...Our hearts were torn in seeing him thus hastening towards infallible destruction; all our cares are in vain.

"He had long since given up riding on horseback, and by degrees, also, he almost entirely relinquished his rides in the calash. Even walking became a rare occurrence, and he was thus nearly reduced to a strict seclusion in his apartments. He no longer applied to any regular or continued occupation; he seldom dictated to us, and only upon subjects that were merely the fancy of the moment. He spent the greatest part of the day alone in his room, busied in turning over a few books, or rather doing nothing. Let those who have formed a due estimate of the power of his faculties, appreciate the strength of mind required to enable him to bear, with equanimity, the intolerable burthen of a life so wearisome and monotonous; for, in our presence, he always exhibited the same serenity of countenance and equality of temper; his mind appeared equally unembarrassed; his conversation offered the same lively turns of expression, and he was sometimes even inclined to mirth and humour; but, in the privacy of intimate intercourse, it was easy to perceive that he no longer thought of the future, meditated on the past, or cared about the present; he merely yielded a passive obedience to the physical laws of Nature, and, thoroughly disgusted with life, he perhaps secretly sighed for the moment which was to put an end to it.

"Such was the state of affairs when I was forcibly removed from Longwood; for that period approaches—it is not far distant."

TO A FOUNTAIN,

SWEET Fountain, in thy cool and glassy bed
The forms of things around reflected lie
With all the brightness of reality,

And all the softness which thy wave can shed

As clear as if within thy depths were laid

Some brighter world beneath that pictured sky;
But with a thought the vision
passes by
Before the rising breeze, and all is fled.
So on the stream of life, all bright and gay,

A thousand pleasures glitter to the view,
Which Hope enlightens with her fairest ray,
And Fancy colours with her richest hue;
But with the breath of Truth they pass away
Like thine, sweet fountain-fair, but fleeting too.

M.

ON MUSIC.

No. 3. With reference to the Principles of the Beautiful in that Art. THE several precepts and remarks offered in the latter part of our previous Paper appear to us to embrace the principal laws affecting instrumental melody, or melody generally. These, of course, fully apply to vocal melody likewise, while the latter naturally requires the observance of additional rules, chiefly regarding the due expression of the text which is to be sung; from the ballad, the lowest in the scale, to the opera, the most exalted of the labours of musical genius. In composing music for words, generally poetry, four principal objects present themselves as matters of primary consideration, viz. metre, rhythm, character, and verbal expression.

Upon the two first, our previous remarks, considering the limits we have prescribed ourselves, appear to be nearly sufficient. It is obvious that the musical metre must adapt itself kindly, throughout, to that of the poetry. At the same time, the means at the command of the composer are so ample and manifold, that he is by no means compelled to devise a metre precisely the same as that of the poetry. The same text may be cast into a great variety of musical metre, with almost equal aptitude. Every composer might, perhaps, choose a different metre; one, another, and a third. The English language, it must, however, be owned, presents more difficulties for such metrical arrangement than any other, owing to its numerous monosyllables, to its snapping accents, and other causes, which, together with the many consonants, diphthongs, &c., greatly detract from its aptitude for musical purposes in general. This circumstance the English poet that wishes to write for composers ought constantly to bear in mind. It is probably not going too far, if we venture to maintain that not above one half of the words in the English language is of a nature to become freely eligible for musical composition; and that, of the remaining half, one moiety is absolutely unfit, and the other sufficiently liable to more or less objection, to induce a cultivated and euphonic ear to abstain from its employment for musical purposes as much as can conveniently be helped.

If we might presume to give any advice in this respect to the lyric poet, we should first of all recommend a decided preference of words of pure Anglo-Saxon origin, and a most sparing use of all such as are derived from the Latin, or from the French (second-hand), especially when consisting of many syllables. Those terminating in ation, action, ection, &c. such as commendation, detraction, correction, &c. are little adapted for song; owing not only to their cacophony and length, but also to their want of simplicity. They seldom fail in creating, momentarily, a train of etymological ideas in those that understand them, and many are unintelligible or of obscure import to a number of persons.

But even in the selection of pure Anglo-Saxon words, care and a musical ear are indispensable. Too many monosyllables must be avoided, especially those with strong accent; and when they occur, the composer should be cautious not to extend their duration by a long note. It is highly disagreeable to hear sun drawled into su......n, or breath mouthed into brea......th. Words of two syllables, having a