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LITERARY CRITICISM.

Memoirs of Napoleon, from the French of M. Fauvelet de Bourrienne. By John S. Memes, LL. D. Vol. III. (Constable's Miscellany, Vol. LIX.) London Hurst, Chance, and Co. Edinburgh: Constable and Co. 1830. (Unpublished.)

⚫ THE completion of this interesting work enables us, instead of presenting our readers with a mere précis of the contents, and a few extracts, which was the plan we were obliged to adopt with the preceding volumes, to offer some remarks on Bourrienne's character as a historian, and the value of his contributions to our knowledge of Napoleon.

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ter. Then, for six years, Bourrienne was domesticated in the establishment of Napoleon, necessarily the confidant of all his plans, obliged to converse with him at all disgrace, his connexions with most of the leading spirits hours, and in all situations. Lastly, subsequent to his of the time, procured for him the most authentic accounts of the emperor's proceedings. The form he has given to his work, is calculated to enable him to use his knowledge in the most effective manner. He does not pretend to write the history of Napoleon-he only contributes his share of materials for that great work." It is not the entire life of Napoleon I write. I shall speak but seldom of those events which I have not witnessed, or of any fact unsupported by official documents. Let every one do as much."

Having thus established Bourrienne's access to the best sources of information, and his cautious and unostentatious use of his knowledge, the next point to be considered, is his capacity rightly to apprehend what he saw anal heard. There are men who could live in habits of daily intercourse even with a Napoleon, and yet not see his actions. It requires no small share of talent to understand a great man. The present question, then, resolves itself into two branches:-Did Bourrienne possess a judgment sufficiently clear and comprehensive to appre ciate Napoleon? Was he sufficiently free from prejudice, either of a friendly or a hostile nature, to bis old master, to judge him dispassionately?

Bourrienne was born in July 1769. He entered the military school of Brienne in the beginning of 1779. He quitted the establishment in 1787, being prevented, by an ordonnance, published some years before, from obtaining a commission, on account of his father's patent of nobility not having been timeously registered. The following year, he repaired to Vienna, in the hope of being attached to the French embassy; but after a stay of two months in that city, he received from his minister only a few general instructions in diplomacy, and the advice to study international law and foreign languages in some of the German universities. In obedience to this recommendation, he repaired to Leipsic. Having finished his diplomatic studies, and acquired the German and Eng- It affords a strong presumption in favour of Bourlish languages, he returned to Paris in 1792. In the rienne's talents, that Napoleon should have shown such same year, he was appointed secretary of legation at anxiety, as he evidently did, to obtain him for a secreStuttgardt; and when the decree of 28th March, 1793, tary. His reiterated letters, urging his old school-fellow was promulgated, directing all French agents abroad to to join him, his exertions to save him from the Directory, return home within three months, under pain of being who were jealous of the emigrant, and still more of the treated as emigrants, he was among the number who dis- friend of Napoleon, demonstrate a rooted conviction that obeyed. He ventured, notwithstanding, to return to the object of so much solicitude was possessed of no ordiParis in 1795; but his name remained upon the list of nary talents. Nay, the testimony is still stronger; for emigrants till November 1797. In April 1796 he joined after Bourrienne had offended the Italian soldier, at the Bonaparte, then in Italy, as his private secretary; and in moment when all France lay at his feet, and that, by his this capacity he remained attached to him, the compa- own account, (vol. ii. p. 126,) in a manner not easily to nion of all his journeys, the witness of all his actions, till be pardoned by any one, he was selected by the same in1802. In consequence of a quarrel with the First Con- dividual to serve him in an office of the utmost difficulty sal, our author was, in that year, dismissed from his secre- and delicacy. But even without this evidence in his tariat, to which he never was reappointed. Such, how-favour, Bourrienne's own work would have established ever, was Napoleon's confidence in his talents and probity, that he was soon afterwards nominated resident at Hamburg. This office he retained till 1809, when he received his dismissal, and returned to Paris.

his reputation as a calm and clear-sighted searcher of men's characters. The train of thought which runs throughout, and the glances he occasionally allows us to take of his personal adventures, show him to be a man of From this outline of the leading events in our author's a cool and reflecting disposition. He is a man of princilife, the reader will see that he possessed peculiar facili- ple, but not such a slave to conscience as to become its ties for obtaining a knowledge of such facts as were re- martyr. When he does suffer for its sake, it is less quired by the personal historian of Napoleon. For five from any romantic attachment to it, than from his years of their boyhood they were inseparable companions self-possession, which reminds him, in the most trying at bed and board. During the interval which elapsed moments, of the necessity of preserving a reputable between their separation on Bonaparte's leaving school, character. The same coolness of disposition prevents they met frequently; and as they were both young men, him from being dazzled by external show. He was waiting till the tide of life's business should float them perhaps the only man in France who retained his senses off from the bank on which they lay fretting at inaction, sufficiently to view Napoleon's system of policy in its mutual confidence and reciprocal assistance heightened natural colours, undazzled by those prismatic splendours the intimacy of their knowledge of each other's charac-reflected from its author's genius. We may even go

farther, and say that he is to this day the only Frenchman whose eyes are quite free from the darkness which ensues from gazing too intently upon the sun. In addition to this natural discernment, he has high feeling sufficient to teach him the honour to be eventually attained by speaking freely and openly. The consequence is, that, making allowance for a very natural inclination always to set his own actions in the most favourable point of view, and a little tendency to exult over the discovery of Napoleon's 'blunders, as if, because he is able to see, he could have amended, or even himself perpetrated them, his book is trustworthy, as far as the power of discerning truth, and the inclination to speak it, go.

'But there yet remains the question, was this man, so well fitted in the abstract to judge of men, not disqualified, in the particular instance of Napoleon, by enmity or friendship? It ought to be always kept in mind, that Bourrienne was the school friend of Bonaparte, and that he afterwards left his service in anger. Nor are we inclined to deny, that we do, in several instances, find him giving way to his spite, and putting the most unfavourable interpretation upon Napoleon's conduct; while, on the contrary, we just as often find the old boyish predilection kindling up, and expressing itself with all the exaggeration of young and generous affection. It is also worthy of notice, that M. Fauvelet de Bourrienne has a wife; that Madame entertains a pique against the deceased monarch, which to us is altogether unaccountable, but the cause of which might perhaps have been guessed at by Farquhar or Congreve; and that she not only encourages her husband in his less amiable moods, but lends him occasionally her own sharp-pointed pen, dipped in that most inveterate of all acids, woman's spite, to express them. Lastly, Bourrienne seems at times to bear Napoleon a grudge; that, starting from the same goal, he should have got so much the start of him in life. In these moods, however, he does not indulge very frequently, and, in by far the greater part of his work, we can trace his own sagacious spirit, uninfluenced by any private feelings.

A narrative of Bonaparte, by such an author, was a desideratum till the appearance of Bourrienne's work. We had plenty of compilations, from Sir Walter Scott's downwards; but who could repose confidence in them, more than in the newspaper authorities from which they had been gathered? We had histories of Napoleon's campaigns, by friend and foe; and these were valuable as far as they went. We had his own confessions from St Helena; but these were the quibbling attempts of a prisoner, to represent himself as immaculate, and his gaolers as monsters. We had French biographies; but they were either the works of devoted partisans, or of pedantic theorists. We had German and English biographies; but these were libels. Bourrienne's Memoirs are, with all their faults, and not the least is a perpetual affectation of antithetic brilliancy, the only real history of Napoleon, and they are all but a perfect history. few anecdotes may be added, the daily occurrences of some years of his life may be more accurately and minutely detailed, but this will be the nucleus of all succeeding works. Some features of the picture may be modified or softened, but this bold and vigorous outline will ever remain the most genial likeness.

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The little library published by the editors of Constable's Miscellany, contains many valuable works, but none of more value than the translation of Bourrienne's Me

moirs. The duty of translator has been, upon the whole, respectably discharged by Dr Memes. As a specimen of the style in which he has performed his task, we subjoin the account of Staps' attempt to assassinate Napoleon:

towards the Emperor, at that moment standing between Berthier and myself. The Prince of Neufchatel (Berthier) supposing he had a petition to present, went up to him, directing him to apply to me, as I happened to be the aidede-camp on service for the day. The youth returned for answer, that it was with Napoleon himself he wished to speak, and Berthier again told him to address himself to me. He then removed to a short distance, still repeating that he wanted to speak to Napoleon. A second time he advanced, and approached very close to the Emperor. I desired him to fall back, speaking in German, and stating, heard. I marked him with attention, for his insisting bethat after parade, if he had any thing to ask, he would be gan to render me suspicious. I observed that he had his right hand thrust into the left breast pocket of his surtout, whence he allowed a paper to appear. I know not by what chance, but my eye at this moment met his; I was struck with his expression, and with a certain air of determination, which appeared to me constrained. Seeing an officer of the gendarmerie standing near, I desired him to secure the young man, without violence, and to detain him quietly in the chateau, till after parade. All this passed in less time than my relation has occupied, and as every body's attention was at that moment taken up with the review, no one remarked the occurrence. Soon afterwards I received information that a large carving knife had been found upon the prisoner, who had given his name Staps. I went instantly for Duroc, and we proceeded together to the room where Staps had been confined. We found him seated on a bed, thoughtful, but not intimidated. Near him lay a portrait of a young female, his pocket-book, and a purse containing only two pieces of gold.'-(Rapp, I think, told me these were two old louis d'or) First, continued Rapp, ⚫ I asked him his name? he replied, I will confess, only to Napoleon.' Again, I asked what use he meant to make of the knife? always the same answer, I will confess to no attempt against his life? Yes, sir.' Why ?' I shall one but Napoleon.'-' Did you,' added I, intend it for an make no answer, save to Napoleon.'

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This, altogether, appeared to me so strange, that I conceived it my duty to inform the Emperor. On relating what had passed, he betrayed a slight degree of anxiety; for you know,' added Rapp, how strongly he is haunted with ideas of assassination. After a pause, he desired me to order the young man to be brought in; but gave me this direction in a tone such as neither you nor I ever knew him to assume. He continued to pass his right hand across his forehead, and regarded with scrutinizing glance all present. Berthier, Bernadotte, Savary, Duroc, besides myself, were there; and I remarked, that the Emperor fixed his eyes alternately upon several of us, although he might have known well, that amongst us there was not one who would have d'armes brought Staps into his presence. The poor youth, hesitated to sacrifice life to do him service. Two gensspite of his intended crime, exhibited in his personal appearance something prepossessing, by which it was impossible not to feel interested. I would willingly have heard him give the denial of criminal intentions; but how the devil save a young fellow who was bent on his own destruc

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Do you speak French?' demanded the Emperor. Staps replied, that he spoke the language very imperfectly. As you know, (continued Rapp to me,) that, next to your self, I am the best German scholar in the imperial court, the duty of interrogating in that language devolved upon me. But in this examination I was merely interpreter. Such was Napoleon's eagerness to know the replies, that, in the following dialogue, the Emperor and Staps are the speakers, I was only the instrument of communication, rendering the Emperor's questions into German, and the responses into French.

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Emperor, Whence came you 2 Staps, From Nuremberg. What is your father's profession?' He is Protestant minister there. How old are you?'-' Eighteen.' What were you to do with your knife? Kill you. You are mad, young man; you are one of the illuminati. I am not mad; I do not know the meaning of illuminati.' You are ill, then ?' I am not ill; I am in perfect health. Why would you kill me?'- Because you are the cause of the misfortunes of my country.Have I done any ill to you?'- To me as to every German. By whom were you sent-who instigated you to "We were at Schoenbrunn,'-I give Rapp's own narra- this crime? No one; it is the intimate conviction that tive, as entered in my notes at the time- where the Em-in slaying you, I render the greatest service to my country peror was holding a review. I had for some time remarked a young man, at the extremity of a column, whom, just as the troops were about to defile, I observed to advance

and to Europe, which armed my hand. Is this the first time you have seen me?' I saw you at Erfurth, at the time of your interview with the Emperor of Russia.'

< Had you not then the intention of killing me?'-' No; I believed you would not again make war upon Germany, I was one of your greatest admirers. How long have you =been in Vienna? Ten days.'-' Why did you wait so long before attempting your design?'-Eight days ago I = arrived in Schoenbrunn, intending to kill you; but the parade had just ended. I postponed the execution of my attempt till to-day. You are mad, I tell you, or you are ill.' "Here the Emperor desired Corvisart to be sent for. Staps inquired who was Corvisart? A physician,' I replied. It needs not,' said the youth; after which we kept a silence till the doctor arrived. During this interval, Staps - exhibited the most astonishing composure. The moment Corvisart entered, Napoleon gave him orders to feel the young man's pulse, which he did immediately, when Staps said, Is it not so, sir? am I not quite well? The young gentleman,' said Corvisart, addressing the Emperor, is in good health.'-' Did I not speak truly?' resumed Staps, pronouncing these words with a sort of satisfaction. ˆ I really was astonished at the coolness and impassibility of Staps; and the Emperor himself seemed as if in momentary amazement at the youth's firmness. After some brief pause, he thus resumed the interrogation: Your brain is disordered. You will cause the ruin of your family. I will grant your life, if you will ask my pardon for the crime which you designed to commit, and for which you ought to be sorry. I want no pardon; I feel the liveliest regret for not having succeeded. The devil! it appears crime is nothing to you.'-' To kill you is no crime-it is a duty.'Whose portrait was that found upon you?'- It is that of a young person whom I love. She will doubtless be much afflicted by your adventure.' She will be afflicted only at my failure; she abhors you as much as I do. But after all this, if I pardon you, will you not be thankful to me?' -I will kill you not the less."

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That unfortunate Staps, I cannot get him out of my mind. When I think of him, my thoughts are lost in perplexity. No-I cannot conceive that a young man of his age-a German, one who had received a good education; above all, a Protestant, could have imagined and designed to execute such a crime, Consider for a moment; the Italians are regarded as a nation of assassins-well! not one Italian ever attempted my life. It is beyond my comprehension. Inform yourself of the manner in which Staps died, and let me know.' I made the necessary enquiries at General Lauer; it appeared that Staps, whose attempt was made on the 23d of October, was executed on the 27th, at seven in the morning, and had not tasted food from the 24th. When provisions were brought him, he refused to eat, saying, I have strength sufficient to carry me to death.' When informed that peace was concluded, he expressed great sorrow, and a trembling passed over his whole frame. Having reached the place of execution, he cried out with a loud voice, Hail, liberty! Germany for ever! Death to the tyrant!'--and fell.''

France in 1829-30. By Lady Morgan. In two volumes, 8vo. Pp. 527, 559. London. Saunders and Ottley. 1830.

LADY MORGAN has certainly been an ill-used woman. We never read a page of her traducers' philippics but we burn with chivalrous zeal to enter the lists in her defence. Unfortunately, however, we never take up one of her own works, but our zeal in her cause materially cools. We feel convinced that, but for her own petulance, vanity, indelicacy, and absurdity, she never would have been so be-mauled. We feel that in very truth her ladyship is rather flattered than otherwise, by the attention paid to her, unceremonious as it is. We remember, when in Germany, at the time the battle of Jena was lost in such masterly style by the Prussian commander, encountering a troop of Saxon dragoons on their retreat. The fellows

boasted of the drubbing they had received, and of the magnitude of their defeat, with more exaggeration and self-complacency, than ever Bobadil did of his feats of valour. Lady Morgan is a Saxon dragoon. Other authors take care to repeat the compliments paid them by the critics, her ladyship placards the abuse these gentlemen have heaped upon her. The most merciless cuttingup seems to have the same effect upon her that the best turned eulogium might be expected to produce upon an ordinary author. There is no doubt a great deal of affectation in all this; and, on examining more closely her eternal simper, it is evidently sardonic; but this is only in character, for Lady Morgan's whole life is a mere piece of acting.

"Napoleon,' continued Rapp, was in a state of stupor such as I had never beheld him in. The replies of Staps, and his unshaken resolution, had reduced him to a condition that I cannot describe. He ordered the prisoner to be removed. When the latter had been led away,' Behold,' said Napoleon to us, the results of the illuminism which infests Germany. These are fine principles, on my word, and charming lights, which transform youth into assassins! But there is no remedy against doctrines; a sect cannot be destroyed at the cannon's mouth. After some further declamation against the illuminati, Napoleon, with Berthier, withdrew to his cabinet, and the event, which it was endeavoured to conceal, became the subject of conversation to the inhabitants of the castle of Schoenbrunn. In the evening, the Emperor sent for me; Rapp,' said he, truly the occurrence of the morning is most extraordinary. I cannot believe that this young man alone could conceive the design of assassinating me. There is something more at the bottom. I shall not easily be convinced that the courts of Berlin and Wismar are strangers to the affair. Sire, permit me,' said I, 'to tell your Majesty, that these suspicions appear to me groundless. Staps is an isolated indiThe truth is, that her enemies-and we are very far from vidual; bis calm countenance, and even his fanaticism, are proofs of this. But I tell you,' interrupted the Emperor, belonging to the number-have uniformly mistaken the that there are women in this plot-furies thirsting for proper mode of attack. The Quarterly and Blackwood, vengeance; could I obtain evidence, I would have them even the Westminster, have composed long and logical seized in the midst of their court ! Ah! Sire, it is im- essays to demonstrate the noxious character of her prinpossible that man or woman in these courts could have har-ciples, and the emptiness and flippancy of her works, boured so atrocious a design.' I am by no means sure of Sundry and divers continental monarchs are said-we that was it not they who stirred on Schill against us while we were at peace with Prussia? But patience-we will not vouch for the truth of the report, and should not shall see one day. But, Sire, Schill's affair had nothing be surprised to learn that it had been traced backward in common with this attempt of Staps.'- You know,' pur- to her ladyship's own inventive genius-to have prohisued Rapp, how desirous the Emperor always is that all bited her entrance within their states. Now all this should go in with his opinion. I had a proof of it here; fracas, on the part of literati and politicians, was exfor all at once dropping his familiarity of address, he con-tremely ill-judged; for it raised Lady Morgan's reputa tinued, in the same tone of voice, however, You speak in vain, Monsieur le General; they like us not, neither at Berlin nor Wismar. I know the furious enmity of these women-but patience. You will write to General Lauer; it is his duty to examine Staps; charge him especially that I desire him to extract some confession.'

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tion to a height which it could never otherwise have attained. Her Novels would have been favourites in their day, have passed and been forgotten, like many better works of their kind; her Travels-if ever published— might have lumbered the shelves of her publishers; but her name, had it not been made a bone of contention, and her literary merits, had they not been confounded-most unaccountably-with the great political interests now convulsing Europe, would by this time have been completely forgotten.

It is not by any means our intention to deny that Lady Morgan is possessed of considerable talents. She

has naturally much sensibility, liveliness, and humour. But in these days, when the power of expressing one's thoughts is possessed by every person in comfortable circumstances, these qualifications are not of themselves sufficient to ensure a lasting reputation amid the jostling of so many competitors. In every work that she publishes there are passages that we read with pleasure, but, at the same time, as we read a clever paragraph in a newspaper, certainly without any very anxious wish to remember it, or any intention of re-perusing it at some future períod.

Her present publication is decidedly a catch-penny, and, indeed, she admits as much in her preface. Her ladyship visited France in 1829, for the express purpose of manufacturing a new work upon France. Just as the work was printed off, the news arrived of the late Revolution in that country; a postscript of some twenty-eight sparsely-printed octavo pages relating to that event, was added on the spur of the moment; the title of the book changed from France in 1829 to France in 1829-30; and certain puffs-preliminary industriously circulated, by which the public were led to believe that Lady Morgan had been in Paris either during, or immediately after, the Revolution.

The staple topics of the book are, of course, (it is Lady Morgan who writes,) abuse of England, and every thing belonging to it, and praise of France. It would really be making her ladyship of too much consequence to point out her numerous contradictions, but one of them is too amusing to be passed over in silence. At the commencement of the first volume we are told that France presented, in the spring of 1829, "the happiest epoch of time and weather, when the season and the people (alike fresh from the touch of regeneration) give the best aspect of the moral and the natural world." At the end of the second volume, the same identical Lady Morgan treats us, in the postscript we have already noticed, to a voluntary in honour of the late Revolution, because it has changed the moral aspect of France. *

It would, however, be loss of time to remonstrate with her lively and incorrigible ladyship; and, as we know that every body will be desirous to hear what she, in the great heap of her wisdom, has been pleased to say on the subject of France, we subjoin a few specimens of her

small-talk.

The following passage, we much fear, will subject her to the lash of the political economists, as she seems to impugn the justice of their favourite "division of la. bour:"

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"It is a common and just complaint, that the British theatre has fallen into the sear and yellow leaf;' that it is cessful pieces. The causes are self-evident; the désagrémens sterile, and dependent on, the French for nearly all its sueof theatrical authorship, and the relatively small reward of this branch of literature. In France, authors are paid a per centage on the gross receipts of every Parisian theatre, on every night that their piece is represented at it. This per centage is calculated upon the number of acts of the piece played, and their proportion to the whole representation of the night. The same law subsists in the case of of the ballet-master. The provincial theatres have the right musical composers, and (at the Academie Royale) in that of performing all pieces brought out in the capital, and they pay the author for each representation, according to a tariff, which varies with the population of each city. The author of a popular play will thus be receiving emoluments from ten or twenty different places on the same night. The comic operas and vaudevilles (being frequently played in the prothat succeeds eminently, will, in the course of three or four vinces) yield largely in this way. A comedy or tragedy years, produce for its author, from the Français alone, from ten to fifteen thousand franes, (L400 to 1.600,) a large sum for France; and yet inferior to the return of many of Scribe's popular pieces. Copyright remains with authors of this description for life, and ten years after their decease. Yet so inadequate is this law to French notions of the sacrease the term from ten to forty years. The copyright of credness of literary property, that efforts are making to indramatic works is distinct from the right of representation."

A circumstance which struck her ladyship very forcibly, was the very prevalent imitation of English fashions. We were rather amused to find that this spirit had penetrated even to the confectioners : "Expecting a very early nursery visit from a new little relation, who has conferred on me a brevet rank, by no means flattering even to a lady, qui a été jeune st long temps,' (as the Journal des Débats once pleasantly said of me, before we came into the same category of official préscription,) I was led into the vulgar nursery ambition of paying my court to my infant visitor, through her gastronòmic propensities, by the toadyism of comfi's and sugar plums; so I walked out in search of a confectioner. My intention was to proceed to my old mart for bon-bons, the Fidèle Berger,' in the Rue Vivienne. But as topography is not my forte, I stopped short at the first shop that fell in my way. With my head full of the poetical pastry of De Bar, some of whose bright conceptions I once gave to a country lady in Ireland, who ornamented her dress with them for an assize ball, I asked boldly for some Diablotins en papillote, Pastilles de Nantes, and other sugared prettinesses; but a demoiselle behind the counter, as neat as English muslin and French tournure could make her, replied, conceitedly, in broken English, We sell no such a ting." A little surprised, I asked what she would recommend that would melt in the mouth, and not soil the fingers-something fit for a marmalle; Dere is every ting that you may have want,' she replied, pointing to shelves piled, with biscuits, de cracker, de bun, de plom-cake, de spice gingerbread, de mutton and de mince-pye, de crompet and de muffin, de gelée of de calves foot, and de apple-dumplin as bespoke.'

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"One morning, I ordered an English muslin dress to be sent home by a certain hour on the next day, for an occasion, when an English musliu dress was la robe obligée.' My servant brought me word that it could not be got up in so short a time; and a very smart, well-dressed, but iuferior member of the establishment, came to explain why it was so. I asked her what was her department, and she replied, une œuvreuse en gros, or savoneuse,' (a plain washer) at forty-two sous per diem. The next grade above her in the hierarchy of the wash-tub, she informed me, is the empeseuse, or starcher, whose business is always superintended by the bourgeoise herself; that is, by the chief of the house. Then comes the raffineuse, or clear-starcher; and last, the repasseuse, or ironer, (the two last, by the by, earning three francs per diem). But why cannot you do all this yourself?' I asked. Comment, madame! I wash, starch, clear, and iron? impossible. Every one to her own department;' and then, with an easy curtsey, and a' J'ai l'honneur de vous saluer,' she left me to the horrors "I was struck dumb! One of the things worth a visit of a silk dress, when a muslin one was the law of the season. to Paris, if you had no other motive for the journey, is its "Presently afterwards came la bourgeoise, the head of exquisite confectionery; so light and so perfumed, that it the firm. She was a fine woman, and elegantly dressed in resembles congealed odours, or a crystallization of the the extreme of the fashion. I attempted to utter a few essence of sweet flowers. Plum-cake and apple-dumplings! words of remonstrance, on the possibility of any body being-Sugar-of-lead and leaden bullets! I thought of the Fi able to wash a gown in twenty-four hours; but, confounded dèle Berger,' its fanciful idealities, its trifles light as air,' by her air and manner, if not convinced by her declaration, "Que c'etait une science,' and that one must have been brought up dans les principes,' to understand any thing about the matter, I begged her pardon for the trouble I had

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the Français, and several of the smaller theatres, remains in the enScribe, having written for the Opera Comique, the Academie, joyment of 60,000 francs per annum.

and infinite deal of (sweet) nothings;' its candied epics "The disciple of so many masters had scarcely received and eclogues in fine-spun sugar. Then, too, its garçons like his diploma, and taken the professor's chair, when his repu feathered Mercuries new lighted on' a sponge-cake, or a tation became European. The Admirable Crichton of the carmel, giving to the magazin the air of a store-room of the kitchen was sought by all the sovereigns of the Continent; muses. What a contrast! a chubby young man and a and, like Titian, he refused some regal, and some imperial phlegmatic old woman were busily at work. Butter was invitations, to preside in foreign lands, over the art in which beating with wooden spoons; force-meat was chopping with he excelled in his own. He declined, among other offers, Birmingham hatchets; currants were drying, and suet those of the Emperor of Russia: and though repeated sowas melting in the sun; beef-steak gravy steamed from the licitations induced him to undertake the administration of hot hearth, and the oven was redolent of apple-pie: in a the table of George the Fourth of England, (then Regent,) word, the pandemonium of an English country kitchen on he remained but eight months in his service. The motives Christmas eve was exhibited on at April morning, with- of his return to France were purely patriotic and national. in view of the violet beds and hyacinth banks of the Ely-Mon ame tout Français,' he says, ne peut vivre qu'en sium of the Tuileries. I rubbed my eyes, and scarcely be-France.' lieved their evidence. I looked up, and perceived a large black board, intimating in gilt letters, that Here is to be had all sorts of English pastry,' by Tom of Jack somebody, pastry cook from London. Placards, too, were in every pane of the windows, with Hot mutton pies,' Oyster patties, Devonshire cider, Spruce beer, and London porter.Odds, nausea and indigestion! I thought I should never get out of the atmosphere of Cornhill or St Paul's Churchyard. So, paying for a bundle of crackers, hard enough to crack the teeth of an elephant, I consigned them to my servant, and was hurrying away from the shop, when Iwas shot on the left cheek, and covered with a shower of froth, by the explosion of a bottle of Whitbread's entire,' the pride of the counter, and the boast of its owner.

Annoyed beyond measure, I was hastening home, to cleanse myself of the stain and the odour of this essence of aloes, liquorice, and coveulus indicus, when passing along the arcade, a perfumer's shop caught the most acute of all my senses. I never in my life was more in want of something to sweeten my imagination' withal, so I hurried in. One has always a long list of wants on a first arrival at Paris, that renders any and every shop a station, where a frane may be dropped; or a petit écu offered with advantage. I therefore prepared to air my vocabulary' in my best Paris accent, with all the classic names of eaux, essences, and extraits; but before I could make known a single want, the master of the shop pushed forward divers pint bottles of evident English manufacture, interrupting me with, Oui, ota, madame, j'entends! voila tout ce qu'il vous faut, de lavender-vatre de Monsieur Gattie, de honey-vatre première qualité, de essence of burgamot, de lief his vinaigre, and de Vindsor soap; and, addressing a young woman, who was tossing over a box of English fans and silk handkerchiefs, with O'Connell's handsome Irish face glowing in the centre, Ecoutez, chere amie,' he said, show madame the Regent's wash-ball, de Hunt's blacking, de fish-sauce, and the pill anti-bilieux.'

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“It was his peculiar good fortune to find in France a service which reconciled his interests with his patriotism, and which retained him in the only spot dear to his affec tions, and worthy of his genius. He became the chef of Monsieur le Baron de Rothschild, at a salary beyond what any sovereign in Europe might be able to pay, even though assisted by Monsieur Rothschild; without whose aid so many sovereigns would scarcely have been able to keep cooks at all.

"We happened to have with us two noted Amphitryons, (English and French,) when a dinner invitation from Monsieur and Madame de Rothschild was brought in by the servant. Quel bonheur !' exclaimed my French friend, as I read aloud. You are going to dine at the first table in France;-in Europe! You are going to judge, from your own personal experience, of the genius of Carème.' In England,' said my British Apicius, I remember immense prices being given for his second-hand patés, after they had made their appearance at the Regent's table.'

"It was on a lovely July evening that we set forth, by the Champs Elysées, on our dinner visit to the Chateau de Boulogne, the beautiful villa of M, de Rothschild. A large society of distinguished persons, of all nations, introduced a very desultory and amusing conversation during that mauvais quarte d'heure which precedes the dinner. Still, while talking to Gerard, and expecting Rossini, the immortal Careme was not the less uppermost in my mind. Gerard was my old friend, Rossini my old acquaintance: but I was already acquainted with their works. Of the works of Carème I had yet no experience. I had yet to judge-in his own words of those ameliorations in his art, produced by the intellectual faculties of a renowned practitioner.' I did not hear the announce of Madame est servie' without emotion.boo

"To do justice to the science and research of a dinner so served, would require a knowledge of the art equal to that which produced it. Its character, however, was, that it I heard no more, but gathering up my purse and reti- was in season, that it was up to its time, that it was in the cule, quitted the shop in a fever of disappointment, which spirit of the age, that there was no perruque in its compoall the patent pills it contained could not cure. On reach-sition, no trace of the wisdom of our ancestors in a single ing home, I found a little basket lying on the table of the dish; no high-spiced sauces, no dark-brown gravies, no anteroom, labelled with a card, and an English livery-ser- flavour of cayenne and allspice, no tincture of catsup and › yaut waiting for a receipt. The card ran thus: 'Mr's walnut pickle, no visible agency of those vulgar elements of best compliments to Sir C, M., with a flask of - genuine cookery of the good old times-fire and water. Distillations potteen (This was too much!" of the most delicate viands, extracted in 'silver dews,' with

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eternal fondes and soufflets of our English tables)-anticipated the stronger shock, and broke it, of the exquisite avalanche, which, with the hue and odour of fresh-gathered nectarines, satisfied every sense, and dissipated every coarser flavour. With less genius than went to the composition of this dinner, men have written epic poems.

The great Carème is dashed off with a lively and feli-chemical precision, citous pen. His character is individually, but not gene. On tepid clouds of rising steam,' rically, new formed the fond of all. The mayonese was fried in iceNothing of the works, nothing of the story of Carème, (like Ninon's description of Sevigne's heart)-and the temwas unknown to me. I was aware that he was the descend-pered chill of the plombiere-(which held the place of the ant of that famous French chef of the infallible kitchen of the Vatican, who, under Leo the Tenth, received his brevet of immortality (it is as well it was not his canonization) for a soupe maigre, which he invented for his holiness, during a black Lent, and from which he derived his name of Jean de Careme, or Jack of Lent. I knew also, that, born to a splendid inheritance of the family organization, Carême bad, at an early age, exhibited the genius of his great ancestor, which broke forth in a sauce piquante, still bearing his name, and peculiarly applicable to fast dinners. After he had made his probation under one of the most celebrated rotisseurs of his time, he became the élève of the renowned Monsieur Richant, fameux saucier de la maison de Conde, with whom, to use his own words, he studied le travail des sauces. When perfected in this high branch of his art, he passed into the classes of Monsieur Asne, where he mastered les belles parties des froids,' and the least known perhaps, and the most exquisite, of the results of scientific gastronomy. He is said, likewise, to have finished with l'elegance moderne in the office of the Bourbon Elysée, under Robert L'ainé.

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"As 1 was seated next to M. Rothschild, I took occasion to insinuate, after the soup, (for who could utter a word before?) that I was not wholly unworthy of a place at a table served by Carème; that I was already acquainted with the merits of the man who had first declared against la cuisine épiceé et aromatisée;' and that although I had been accused of a tendency towards the bonnet rouge, my true vocation was the bonnet blanc. I had, I said, long gouté les ouvrages de Monsieur Carème theoretically; and that now a practical acquaintance with them filled me with a still higher admiration for his unrivalled talents. Eh! bien,' said Monsieur Rothschild, laughing, 'he, on his side, has also relished your works; and here is a proof of it.'

"I really blush, like Sterne's accusing spirit, as I give in the fact; but he pointed to a column of the most inge

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