spiracy, how they stood on the eastern border. Since that period, the frame of society and the province of the Court of Justiciary have undergone a complete change; and it seems to us, that a brief contrasted statement of the past and the present will be pregnant with instruction. At the beginning of the 17th century the arm of the law was impotent as soon as it was stretched beyond a narrow circle round the capital. The barons were, beyond its limits, effective sovereigns, despising authority, and making war upon each other. When the turbulence of any one of them became excessive, a little army had to be dispatched against him. The lower orders were bred amid the bloody scenes produced by the rivalries of their chiefs, and destitute of all education. They were subject to the jurisdiction of hereditary sheriffs, who would have looked with indignation upon the interfe say he had not found him; and, in the meantime, gave notice of Cullayne's motions to some of his enemies, who met and murdered him at the place which he had named in his letter. Afraid lest his accession to the murder should be discovered by the means of the lad William Dalrymple, who had brought him intelligence of Cullayne's journey, Mure sent him out of the way; but as the boy always returned back upon his hands, he resolved to take a more effectual mode of getting rid of him. Having communicated his intentions to his son James, and a confidential follower of the name of Bannatyne, the latter brought the youth, about ten o'clock in the evening of a day in September, 1607, to the sands of Girvan, where his employers were waiting for him. There the two Mures murdered him; and after several fruitless attempts, with the assistance of Bannatyne, to dig a hole in the sand, within the tide-mark, for the purpose of inter-rence of any other court. Hence it arises that an unduly ring the body, they carried it as far as they could into the sea, leaving it to be floated out by the ebb tide. The body being some days afterwards cast ashore, suspicion attached to them as the perpetrators. Fearing that flight, which they found necessary in their circumstances, would be construed into a confession of guilt, they attacked a gentleman of the name of Kennedy in the neighbourhood of Ayr, with whom they had some feud, in order to obtain a plausible reason for keeping out of the way. Shortly afterwards, the elder Mure was apprehended, whereupon his son voluntarily came forward; but as there were no pregnant suspicions against him, he was liberated on bail. At the time appointed for his examination, he had the boldness again to appear, having, in the meantime, persuaded Bannatyne to abscond to Ireland. Having contradicted himself in the course of his examination, he was, by the King's orders, put to the torture, which he endured with the utmost resolution, and without making any discovery. The popular feeling was now excited in his behalf, and many of the nobility were urgent for his liberation, but the King refused to comply. In order to remove all evidence against them, the father and son employed an emissary to murder Bannatyne; and with a skilful combination of crime, they instigated a person at enmity with their new agent to take him off in turn. But Bannatyne escaped their snares; and irritated on the one hand by their machinations against his life, and wearied on the other by the hot search after him on the part of the government, surrendered himself and confessed every thing. The chain of evidence being now complete, the two Mures were brought to trial the 17th of July, 1611, found guilty, and condemned to be beheaded. great proportion of the crimes which come under the cognizance of the Court of Justiciary, are committed by the nobility and small gentry. The commons, although no longer serfs, were held as little better in the eyes of government. Their crimes, unless when very atrocious, were left to provincial jurisdictions. It was to the misdeeds of such criminals, as by their power and connexions threatened the stability of society, that the Supreme Court turned its attention. 5th. In July, 1610, a band of pirates were tried in Edinburgh before the High Court of Admiralty, and be ing found guilty, were sentenced to be hanged within the high-water mark at Leith. In December of the same year, another party received a similar sentence. It appears, from the proceedings upon the two trials, that the northern coasts of Ireland, the Hebrides, and the Orkney islands, were at that period haunted by numerous and daring bands of pirates. The unsettled state of the country facilitated their lawless trade in the spoils of their nefarious voyages. These are the traits of Scottish crime brought to light by the most important trials in the Sixth Part of Mr Pitcairn's work. The numerous documents which that gentleman has collected for their illustration give us a trustworthy and graphic picture of the state of society at the commencement of the seventeenth century in the Orkney and Western Islands,—in the districts along the west coast of Scotland, from the Mull of Cantyre northwards, and in the district comprehending Dumfriesshire, Galloway, and Ayrshire. The documents connected with the history of Clan Gregor, published in the preceding Part, show how matters stood along the Highand line; and the history of the Laird of Restalrig, as brought out in the papers connected with the Gowrie Con The case is, now-a-days, widely different. It is very rarely that we see a member of the higher classes do any thing that brings him within the power of our criminal laws. It is not merely that the gentry are seldom brought to the bar; the educated class even of farmers, farm-servants, and shopkeepers, are rarely implicated in crime. The mass of the business that occupies the Supreme Court, consists almost exclusively of acts of stealing, housebreaking, and robbery, or of violences committed with a view to their perpetration, and these committed in nineteen cases out of twenty by individuals of that wretched class, to whom crime serves for a profession. Occasional assaults of a more or less fatal nature, generally committed by uneducated men, and under the influence of liquor, almost exhaust the catalogue. The Court of Justiciary is in a fair way of sinking into a more dignified sort of Police Court. How has this change been brought about?-By the concentration of power in the hands of the sovereign, by the diffusion of useful knowledge, and by the firmer organization of the executive. The higher classes, without any encroachment being made on their property or external show of superiority, have thus been as effectually reduced to the subjection of law as the lower. They are no longer tempted to wild projects of ambition, for they see on every side the limits beyond which they cannot move with safety. Their desires and aims have been directed to new objects-they have sought to occupy themselves with pursuits which do not lead beyond these bounds. The pursuits of taste and intellect have refined and elevated their characters, rendering their submission to law not the despairing acquiescence of those who can do no better, but a conformity from conviction that it is best. This joint effect of an energetic police, and the diffusion of education, has struck deeper downwards into society than could well be imagined. We need only refer such as doubt the truth of this assertion, and have no opportunity of verifying it from their own observation, to Sir Thomas Dick Lauder's History of the Floods in Morayshire, for a proof of the wide spread of a high moral culture. The presence-of-mind, resignation, and self-devotion, evidenced by our northern peasantry in the hour of danger, are the fruits of having their reflections habitually directed to the duties of life, and to the alleviations of its calamities. Whence come, then, the incessant complaints we hear of the wickedness of the age? How do we account for the immense body of crime that undeniably exists in the country? In answering the latter question we must re ready formed an attachment for Chatelard. By his infatuated conduct, however, Chatelard at length subjects himself to the punishment of death; and time having moderated Adelaide's grief, she becomes the wife of Southennan on the very evening that Rizzio is assassinated, with which intimation the novel (if we must call it concludes. fer to the fact already adverted to, that the great mass of malefactors in the present day consists of those whose only profession or inheritance is crime. That this class, which has hitherto been found to exist in every organized community, should increase in number with the general density of population, is nowise wonderful. That it should, in process of time, grow in boldness and ex-so) pertness, is also quite natural. But the more a country advances in the well-ordering of its police, the more narrowly will this class be watched, and the more will its misdeeds be laid open to the day. As to the wickedness of the age, we have no hesitation in saying, that it is only those ignorant or unobservant persons who have not noticed the higher moral tone of general society on the one hand, and the stricter scrutiny into the doings of criminials on the other, who cry out that crime is increasing. The truth is, that crime, taking every thing into consideration, is decidedly on the decrease. Like the discomfited aborigines of a country, crime is now taking refuge in her last inaccessible fastnesses. To eradicate her thence is, to judge from the history of the past, and from the composition of our nature, a hopeless task. But it is necessary that she be kept within the narrowest bounds, and constant attention given to diminish her followers to the smallest possible number, for her haunts are the abodes of a pestilence, ever ready to spread its contagion the moment the laws of strict quarantine are neglected. Southennan. By John Galt, Esq., Author of "Lawrie Todd," "The Annals of the Parish," &c. &c. 3 vols. London. Colburn and Bentley, 1830. FROM beginning to end, this is a piece of the most vapid, fuzzionless stuff that ever weakened the mind of a novel-reader. We have never entertained a very high opinion of Mr Galt's powers, but we entertain so low an opinion of Southennan, even in comparison with any of its author's former productions, that we are almost inelined to doubt the fact of its having proceeded from his pen. We were quite prepared to find, that in any attempt at the higher kind of historical novel, Galt would entirely fail, but we at least expected to see that failure relieved occasionally by a few such sketches of vulgar life and traits of broad low humour, as in his earlier works were considered clever enough to entitle him to a certain degree of reputation. Even in this forlorn hope we have been disappointed: Southennan is a mass of sheer insipidity, a profitless succession of dull and tasteless sentences, without incident, without spirit, without passion, without vitality. Had the book issued from the Minerva press, no mortal would have ever thought of noticing it; and had it been published anonymously, it would have inevitably been set down as the maudlin drivel of some feeble sexagenarian, or the rickety bantling of some frail and imprudent spinster. Do not let Mr Galt flatter himself with the idea that we talk thus strongly from any prejudice we entertain against his works; we are as disposed to judge him candidly as any other author, and shall be delighted to praise him when he appears to deserve praise; but his presumption in attempting to palm such trash as this upon the public, as a tale illustrative of the Court and Age of Mary, Queen of Scots, deserves no mercy, and shall have none. The very slight tenure upon which the existence of this novel depends, the piece of packthread that tacks together the different chapters, may be described in a few words. Southennan is a young laird from Ayrshire, who comes into Edinburgh, to be presented at court on the return of Mary from France, to assume the reins of government in her own country. He there falls in love with Adelaide, the daughter of an outlawed chief, of the name of Knockwhinnie; and is instrumental in obtaining her father's pardon, but finds that Adelaide has al Our readers will naturally enough wonder how these very simple materials are spun out into three volumes; and we confess we doubt whether the task could have been accomplished by any but so confirmed a votary of Leadenhall Street as Mr Galt has, in this instance, proved himself to be. The great secret, it appears, for swelling out one's pages, is to introduce a number of servants and inferior dramatis persona, and whenever you have nothing else to do, to scribble out long dialogues for them to speak, which can be introduced ad libitum. It is not the least necessary that there should be any wit in these dialogues, farther than the wit necessarily arising from the use of broad Scotch and low phraseology. They are expected to form a pleasing relief to the more dignified portion of the narrative, and to the more polished sort of conversation attributed to the principal characters. Indeed, the general rule of a Leadenhall Street novelist is, that whenever incidents fail, conversation will do instead. But even this is not the chief objection to Southennan. The persons whom the author introduces to his reader, both high and low, are sketched in lines so indistinct and characterless, that not the slightest interest is excited for one of them. And not only is this the case, but so far as the book gives any historical impressions at all, they are for the most part deceptious, and false. Nor has any attempt been made to represent any thing the least like the manners of the period at which the story is laid. Were a few names and dates changed, the whole might be converted into a story of the year 1830, instead of 1561. The Earl of Morton himself is made to speak just as Lawrie Todd does, or any of the worthies in the Annals of the Parish; and in addition to this gross anachronism, and want of vraisemblance, Galt does not seem to be at all acquainted with the best historians of the age, the men and actions of which he affects to describe. He presents us with only occasional glimpses of Mary, and writes the most hideous twaddle about her that can possibly be conceived. Take, for instance, the following :-"One day, as her Majesty was descending the stairs, attended, accidentally, by Rizzio and Chatelard on her right and left, followed by Adelaide and the Lady Mary Livingstone, she slightly stumbled. The Italian instantly offered his arm, but she took hold of the Frenchman's. It was an act of the moment, unpremeditated, and done without intentioned favour or distinc tion, but it seemed not so to the seething spirit of Rizzio." This would make a good subject for a caricature ;-the Queen going down stairs, arm-in-arm with Chatelard in the most cozy manner possible, and Rizzio's spirit "seething" behind! But worse even than his portrait of Mary, which is silly and trifling to a degree, is our author's conception of both Chatelard and Rizzio. The former he represents as a vain heartless coxcomb, urged on to his ruin by the subtle machinations of the Italian, so that, when his fate at length overtakes him, the reader has no sympathy for it. Besides, Mr Galt does not seem to know that Chatelard committed the offence of obtruding himself into the Queen's bedroom twice, Mary having agreed to pardon him on the first occasion, and that the second time was not at Holyrood, but at Burntisland, where the Queen slept, on her way to St Andrews. Neither does Mr Galt appear to be aware that this imprudent foreigner was tried and executed at St Andrews, not in the Castle of Edinburgh. These are facts so notorious, that ignorance of them is unpardonable, and perversion of them no less so. The greater part of the third volume is occupied with the manœuvring of Darnley and others against Rizzio; but no individuality is given to Darnley any more than to any body else, and the ultimate cause of Rizzio's assassination, which was a plot got up principally by the banished Lords, with the assistance of the Earl of Morton, is totally misunderstood, and the most wishy-washy narrative substituted in place of the simple truths of history. The novel possesses, at all events, this distinction, that there is not a single person introduced into it for whom the reader cares at the conclusion one farthing. We had intended to quote several passages to show how vapid the whole of this composition is, but as they would not afford particularly agreeable reading, and would needlessly encumber our columns, we abstain. It is only by condemning oneself to go through the whole as we have done, that the justice of our remarks can be fully appreciated. There is one passage, however, which we find quoted in a London weekly periodical, which we have just received, as a specimen of the exquisite humour which abounds in Southennan; and to show how critics may differ, we shall quote the same passage as a specimen of the abortive and vulgar attempts at pleasantry with which the book is disfigured. The extract describes a scene which is supposed to take place before the Lord Provost of Edinburgh in the time of Queen Mary. We should like to know whether the interlocutors are not much more like some of the bodies one would expect to meet with in Mr Galt's native village at the present day, bodies, too, whom the author has succeeded in making sufficiently dull and inane: hesitate not to say, that a whole Pantheon full of such writing would inspire them with any thing rather than respect or pleasure. Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte. From the French of M. Fauvelet de Bourrienne. By John S. Memes, LL. D. 3 vols. Vol. I. Being Vol. LVII. of Constable's Miscellany. Edinburgh. 1830. AN intense degree of interest attaches itself to Bourrienne's Memoirs of Bonaparte. Bourrienne's intimate connexion with the subject of his narrative for a period of six-and-twenty years, during a considerable part of which he acted as Napoleon's private and confidential secretary, gave him an opportunity of presenting us with a picture of the public and private life of that wonderful man, a thousand times more complete and satisfactory than any which had previously appeared. And when we consider, that besides possessing a quick perception, a ready pen, and a vigorous style, Bourrienne is, moreover, known to be an honest man, and that every thing he says is consequently entitled to belief, the value of his work is still more enhanced. The original French edition extends to ten volumes, but these are widely printed, and in large type; though the present translation will not exceed three volumes, it will, nevertheless, comprise the whole. So far as he has gone, Dr Memes has executed bis task with great ability; his version possesses the highest merit which can attach itself to any translation—that of appear "Nae doubt your lordship kens that the first thing ye hae to do in the precognition, is to speer, in presentia domi-ing to be an original. We feel confident that the Pronorum, if the panel has a person standing judeeshy? "Johnnie,' said the Provost, looking at him with proper magisterial solemnity, and adding with a dignified inHlection of voice, I know my duty.' And turning to the prisoner, he said, Hugh Montgomerie of Auchenbrae, what is your name?' "I think,' replied the delinquent, your lordship has no need to ask that question.' "He confesses to the fact,' said the Lord Dean of Guild. "Yes,' observed the Provost; and, looking towards the clerk, dictated, Hugh Montgomerie of Auchenbrae, being convened before us, declares that he is Hugh Montgomerie of Auchenbrae.' · "I beg your lordship's pardon,' interposed the accused; I have made no such declaration.' "Hold your peace,' exclaimed one of the bailies, and don't interrupt the procedure.' "Clerk, have you written down what I told you?' said the Provost, and addressing himself to the prisoner, enquired, Hugh Montgomerie of Auchenbrae, bave you not been guilty of haimseecken?' "Oh!' cried Johnnie Gaff, my lord, ye hae forgotten to caution the panel not to say any thing to hurt himself; for it is laid down in the law, that every man is bound to be innocent for his own sake, until he be found guilty.' "Clerk,' said one of the counsellors across the table, is that really the law?' "I canna speak positively,' replied the clerk, but I rather think that it is the new law; at least I ha'e heard the like used in pleading afore the Lords.' "Well, but we must stick to the matter in hand,' said the Provost. Clerk, write down declares what did ye declare, prisoner?' "Declare?-nothing,' replied Auchenbrae. "Don't be contumacious,' said one of the bailies, advisingly. "When did this take place?' enquired the Provost. "What?' rejoined the prisoner. "He's dure indeed,' said the bailie who first observed his ungainly countenance. "I'm thinking, my lord,' interposed Johnnie Gaff, that the proceedings quoties toties, should be quam primum; that is, as soon as possible.' "Be silent, sir,' said the Provost." We leave it to our readers to determine whether they would be disposed to trust more in the opinions of those who pick out such passages as the above for their amusement and edification, and as proofs of the excellence of the work in which they are contained, or of those who prietors of Constable's Miscellany could scarcely have fixed upon any work more likely to sustain and increase the popularity of their publication than that now before us. Without farther preface, we proceed to make a few extracts from these Memoirs; but our difficulty is where to begin, for every chapter teems with matter of deep and general interest. With all the vividness, and with less of the partiality, of a personal narrative, this volume brings us down from the commencement of Bonaparte's career to the year 1800, when he reigned in the Luxembourg, First Consul of France. On the Egyptian expedition, Bourrienne is particularly full and interesting. Regarding the fatal events which took place at Jaffa, he writes more explicitly and conclusively than any author who has preceded him. We extract the following passage: THE MASSACRE AT JAFFA. "The siege of Jaffa, a paltry town, dignified as the ancient Joppa, commenced on the 4th, and terminated by assault and pillage on the 6th, of March. The carnage was horrible. Bonaparte sent his aides-de-camp Beauharnois and Croiser to appease, as far as possible, the fury of the soldiery; to examine what passed, and report. They learned that a numerous detachment of the garrison had retired into a strong position, where large buildings or caravanserai surrounded a court-yard. This court they entered, displaying the scarfs which marked their rank. The Albaniaus and Arnauts, composing nearly the entire of these refugees, cried out from the windows that they wished to surrender, on condition their lives were spared; if not, threatening to fire upon the officers, and to defend themselves to the last extremity. The young men conceived they ought, and had power, to accede to the demand, in opposition to the sentence of death pronounced against the garrison of every place taken by assault. I was walking with General Bonaparte before his tent, when these prisoners, in two columns, amounting to about four thousand, were marched into the camp. When he beheld the mass of men arrive, and before seeing the aides-de-camp, he turned to me with an expression of consternation, What would they have me do with these? have I provisions to feed thein? ships to transport them either to Egypt or France? how the devil could they play me this trick?' The two the strongest reprimands; to their defence, that they were aides-de-camp, on their arrival and explanations, received alone amid numerous enemies, and that he had recommended them to appease the slaughter, Yes,' replied the General in the sternest tone, without doubt, the slaughter of wo men, children, old men, the peaceable inhabitants; but not of armed soldiers; you ought to have braved death, and not brought these to me: what would you have me to do with them?' "But the evil was done-four thousand men were there -their fate must be determined. The prisoners were made to sit down, huddled together before the tents, their hands being bound behind them. A gloomy rage was depicted in every lineament; they received a little biscuit and some bread, deducted from the already scanty provisions of the army. A council was held in the General's tent, which, after long deliberation, broke up without coming to any resolution. The day following, arrived, in the evening, the reports of the generals of division; these contained only complaints on the insufficiency of provisions, and the discontent of the soldiers, who murmured because of their rations being devoured by enemies withdrawn from their just vengeance. All these reports were alarming, especially those of General Bon; they even induced the fear of a revolt. Again the council assembled, to which were summoned all the generals of division. The measures here discussed for hours, with a sincere desire of adopting and executing that which might save these unfortunate captives, were the following:"Should they be sent to Egypt? and have we the means of transportation? In this case it would be necessary to give thein a numerous escort, and our little army would be too weak in a hostile country. Besides, how feed both prisoners and escort, when we could give them no provisions on setting out, over a tract already exhausted of resources by our passage? If it is proposed to send them by sea, where are the ships? With every telescope turned upon the ocean we could discern not one friendly sail. Bonaparte, I afirm, would have regarded this as a real favour of fortune. It was this hope-I have pleasure in saying so this thought alone, that enabled him to brave, for three days, the murmurs of his army. But we ever hoped in vain for distant succour: it never came. "Shall these prisoners then be liberated? They will, in this event, either set out directly for Acre, to reinforce the Pacha, or, throwing themselves into the mountainous tract of Naplouse, harass our rear and right flank, and the destruction of our own men will be the price of the life which we have spared. If this be deemed incredible, ask the question of our own experience-what is the life of a Christian dog in the estimation of a Turk? Ingratitude will here become with them an act of religion. "Shall we then disarm and incorporate these men among our own troops? Here occurred, in all its force, the question of provisions. Afterwards occurred the danger of such companions in an enemy's country. What was to be done with them in the event of a conflict before Acre? or how dispose of them beneath the walls of that city? The difficulties of provisioning and of guarding them increased more and more. "The third day arrived, yet no means, so desired, of safety, presented for these unhappy men. The murmurs of the camp augmented, -the evil went on increasing,-remedy appeared impossible,-danger was real and pressing. On the 10th of March, the order, that they should be shot,' was issued and executed. There was no separation of the Egyptians, as has been said-there were none. sacrificed to one paramount public good, and humanity itself be forgotten. It is for posterity to judge whether such was the terrible position of Bonaparte. I, on my part, have an intimate conviction of the fact; moreover, it was by the advice of the council of officers, whose opinion finally became unanimous, that the matter was decided. I owe it also to truth to state, that he yielded only at the last extremity, and was, perhaps, one of those who witnessed the massacre with the greatest sorrow." It is unnecessary to make any comment on the above. Having marched on to the siege of Acre, where Bonaparte was for the first time discomfited, the miseries attending his retreat, when obliged to retrace his former steps, are powerfully painted : THE RETREAT FROM SYRIA. "The troops quitted Acre on the 20th of May, when Bonaparte issued a proclamation, which insults truth from one end to the other. We took our departure at night, in order to avoid a sortie from the besieged, and to place the army, having three leagues of flat to traverse, beyond range of the English gun-boats and vessels of war, in the bay of Mount Carmel. The removal of the wounded and sick had commenced two days before. Thus terminated this disastrous expedition. But a fearful journey was yet before us. Some of the wounded were carried in litters, and the rest on camels and mules. A devouring thirst; the total want of water; an excessive heat; a fatiguing march among scorching sand hills, demoralized the men; a most cruel selfishness, the most unfeeling indifference, took place of every generous or humane sentiment. I have seen thrown from the litters officers with amputated limbs, whose transport had been ordered, and who had themselves given money as a recompense for the fatigue. I have beheld, abandoned among the wheat fields, soldiers who had lost their limbs, wounded and plague patients, or those supposed to be such. Our march was lit up by torches, kindled for the purpose of setting on fire towns, villages, hamlets, and the rich crops with which the earth was covered. The whole country was in flames. It seemed as if we sought a solace in this extent of mischief for our own reverses and sufferings. We were surrounded only by the dying, by plunderers, by incendiaries. Wretched beings, at the point of death, thrown by the way-side, continued to call with feeble voice, 'I have not the plague; I am but wounded;' and, to convince those that passed, they might be seen tearing open their real wounds, or inflicting new ones. Nobody believed them. It was the interest of all not to believe. Comrades would say, He is done for now: his march is over;' then pass ou, look to themselves, and feel satisfied. The sun in all his splendour, under that beautiful sky, was obscured by the smoke of continual conflagration. We had the sea on our right; on our left, and behind us, lay the desert which we made; before were the sufferings and privations that awaited us. Such was our real position. "We reached Tentoura on the 20th. The heat had been suffocating, and universal discouragement prevailed. Our loss among the wounded and sick had already been considerable, since leaving Acre. This truly afflicting state of an army, denominated the triumphant, made upon the commander-in-chief an impression such as could not possibly fail to be produced. Scarcely had we halted, when he called me, and hastily dictated an order for every one to march on foot, and that all horses, mules, and camels, should be given up for the transport of the sick and wounded who yet survived. 'Carry that to Berthier.' The order was instantly issued. Scarcely had I returned, when Vigogne, equerry to the commander-in-chief, entered the tent, hat in hand. 'General, what horse do you reserve for yourself?' In the first ebullition of indignation excited by this question, he inflicted a violent blow with a whip upon the person of the equerry, then added, in a voice of terrific expression, Let every soul be on foot, scoundrel! I the firstHeard you not the order?-Begone!'" Many of these miserable beings, composing the smaller column, which, amounting to about fifteen hundred, was drawn up on the beach, at some distance from the main body, while the butchery was going on, escaped by swimming to some reefs out of gun-shot. On perceiving this, our men laid down their muskets on the sand, and, employing the signs of reconciliation and of amity which they had learned in Egypt, invited the return of their victims. They did return; but, as they came within reach, they found death, and perished amid the waters. I limit myself to those details of this horrible necessity, of which I was an eye-witness. The atrocious scene makes me yet shudder when I think of it, as when it passed before me: much rather would I forget, if possible, than describe. All that can be imagined of fearful, in this day of blood, would fall short of the reality. I have reported the truth-the whole It was on arriving again at Jaffa that a deed was pertruth. I assisted at all the debates at all the conferences-petrated still more terrible than the previous massacre, at all the deliberations. I had, of course, no deliberative concerning which Bourrienne gives the following painvoice; but I owe it to verity to declare, that, had I pos- fully distinct account : sessed a right of voting, my vote for death would have been affirmative. The result of the deliberations, and the circumstances of our army, would have constrained me to this opinion. War unfortunately offers instances by no means rare; in which an immutable law of all times, and common to all nations, has decreed, that private interests shall be THE POISONING OF THE SICK AT JAFFA. "We returned to Jaffa on the 24th May, and remained there till the 29th. This city, but lately the scene of a terrible necessity, was once more to behold the same necessity of commanding death. Here have I a rigorous duty to fulfil": I shall fulfil it, and will declare what I know-what I saw. Some tents were erected on a little eminence near the gardens which surround Jaffa on the east. The order was secretly given to blow up the fortifications, and, on the 27th, upon the signal appointed, we suddenly beheld the town uncovered. An hour afterwards, the General, attended by Berthier, with several physicians and surgeons, and the ordinary staff, entered his tent. I accompanied him. A long and melancholy deliberation ensued respecting the probable fate of those incurably sick of the plague, and their term of life. After the most conscientious discussion, it was decided to anticipate, by a potion, an inevitable death, which must take place a few hours later, but under circumstances more grievous and painful. "Bonaparte rapidly traversed the fallen ramparts of the little city, and entered the hospital. There were here some with amputations, some wounded, many soldiers afflicted with ophthalmia, uttering lamentable cries, and the plague patients. The beds of the last were to the right, on entering the first ward. I walked by the General's side. I affirm never having seen him touch a single infected patient. And why should he have touched them? they were in the last stage of the malady. No one spoke a word. Bonaparte knew well that he had no safeguard against infection, and that to expose himself needlessly was to expose his army, who had no hope save in him. He traversed the wards quickly, switching the yellow top of his boot with the whip which he carried in his hand. While moving rapidly along, he repeated these words,' The fortifications are destroyed: Fortune has been against me at Acre: I must return to Egypt, in order to preserve it from the enemies that are coming: The Turks will be here in a few hours. Let all who feel themselves able, rise and come with us; they shall be transported in litters and on horseback.' There were barely sixty plague patients. Whatever has been said of numbers above this, is exaggeration. Their total silence, their complete exhaustion, or universal languor, announced their approaching end. To carry them out in that state, was evidently to inoculate the army with the pestilence. All the various theories and accounts of this event, of which I am by no means ignorant, are fabrications or fables. The fact ought to be frankly avowed, proving, at the same time, its indispensable, though painful necessity. For my part, I declare what I believed then to be true-what I believe now to be true. I cannot say that I saw the potion administered; I should tell an untruth. I am unable, therefore, to name any person, without hazarding something incorrect. But I know quite positively that such determination was taken-and ought to have been taken-after deliberating. That the order, in consequence of this determination, was given, and that the plague patients died, are facts which I guarantee for the discovery of the truth. How! is that which formed the whole subject of conversation at head-quarters, on the morrow after our departure from Jaffa, as a thing not to be doubted; that of which we spoke as a lamentable necessity; that which was spread throughout the whole army by public report; that which men regarded as a fact, the details only requiring explanation ;-is that become an atrocious invention to ruin the fame of a hero? Napoleon's own statement from St Helena is in the main correct, except as respects the number, which signifies nothing. If it was right in the case of the seven or eight, which he acknowledged did receive the opiate, the act was equally justifiable in the case of sixty, to whom I believe it was administered, and for whom I know it to have been ordered. If wrong, the crime was the same in either case. His reasoning on its propriety, necessity, and even humanity, is but a repetition of that which every one, and he among the rest, employed and admitted twenty years before at Jaffa." The splendid romance of Bonaparte's subsequent career, his secret departure from the army in Egypt, his voyage across the Mediterranean, his narrow escapes, his triumphant landing in France, his rapid journey to Paris, the tumults and military revolution of the 18th and 19th Brumaire, his complete success, and rapid ascent to almost absolute power, are all described with the graphic power which none but an eye-witness can impart to his narrative. We can afford room for only one other extract, but it is one which few of our readers will pass over without perusing: BONAPARTE'S PERSONAL HABITS AND DISPOSITIONS. upon the canvass, or to call forth from the marble, the features of that extraordinary man. The greater number of those skilful artists whose talents honour France, have happily seized the type of his countenance; yet may we say, that there is not in existence a perfect resemblance. It is not granted even to genius, to triumph over an impassi bility. The noble contour of the head, the expanded front, the pale and elongated visage, and the meditative cast of the countenance, might be represented; but the mobility of his glance was beyond the dominion of imitation-that glance which obeyed volition with the rapidity of lightning. In the same minute, there might be read in bis quick and piercing eye, an expression, now sweet, now stern, now terrible, and anon caressing. It might be said, that every thought which agitated his soul, moulded an appropriate physiognomy. Bonaparte had finely formed hands, and higbly estimated this beauty. He likewise took particular care of them; and often, while conversing, regarding them with complacency. He had also pretensions to fine teeth; but these claims appeared to me less justly founded. When he walked, whether alone or in company, in a room or in his gardens, he stooped a little in his gait, with hands crossed behind his back. Frequently, he made an involuntary movement of the right shoulder, by slightly elevating it; at the same time, a motion in the mouth from left to right, was observable. If one had not known that this was only a habit, these motions might have been mistaken for spasmodic affections. They, in reality, indicated deep cogitation,-a sort of condensing of the spirit, while it cherished lofty thoughts. Often, after these walks, he drew up, or dictated to me, the most important papers. It seemed almost impossible to tire him, not merely on horseback, and with the army, but in his ordinary exercise; for sometimes he walked during five or six hours in succession, without being sensible of the exertion. He had a habit, too, in these walks, when accompanied by any one whom he treated familiarly, of passing his arm through his companion's, and thus supporting himself. "Bonaparte used frequently to say to me,- You see, Bourrienne, how temperate and spare I am. Well, I can. not divest myself of the apprehension, that forty years hence, I shall be a great eater, and become very corpulent. I foresee that my constitution will undergo a change; and notwithstanding I take sufficient exercise. But what would you? It is a presentiment, and will certainly be realized. This idea troubled him much. As nothing then permitted me to participate in them, I never failed to argue against these fears as groundless. But he would not listen to me; and, during the whole time of my residence in his service, this presentiment haunted him continually. It was but too well founded. "For the bath he had an absolute passion, and mistook this partiality for a necessity of life. He remained habitually two hours in the water. During this time, I read to him extracts from the journals or some new pamphlets; for he desired to hear all, know all, and see all for himself. While in the bath, he kept continually turning the warm water valve, raising the temperature to such a pitch, that we found ourselves enveloped in an atmosphere of vapour so dense as to prevent my seeing sufficiently to read. We were then forced to open the door. "I never knew Bonaparte to be but extremely temperate, and an enemy to all excess. He was aware of the absurd stories circulated concerning him; and they sometimes put him out of humour. How often has it been repeated, that he was subject to attacks of epilepsy! During the space of more than eleven years, I never saw any symp tom which resembled in the very least that malady. He was very healthy, and of an excellent constitution. But if, on the one hand, his enemies have thought to degrade him, by describing him as subject to a grievous periodical infirmity, his flatterers, apparently figuring to themselves sleep as incompatible with greatness, have not less belied truth, in speaking of his imaginary watchings. Bonaparte made others wake, but he himself slept, and slept soundly. He desired that I should call him every morning at seven. I was, therefore, always the first who entered his bedroom; but, pretty often, on attempting to rouse him, he would say, his eyes still shut- Do, Bourrienne, I beseech you, let me sleep a moment longer.' When there happened to be nothing very pressing, I did not return again till eight. In general, he slept seven hours out of the twenty-four, be sides dozing a little in the afternoon. "Among the private instructions delivered me in writing, "The ablest painters and sculptors have laboured to fix there was one very singular on this point: During the |