into a lofty, but ill-proportioned and miserably furnished apartment, where he left us, with an assurance that there the duke would give us audience. 'After a few minutes the door of a little cabinet at the higher end of the room was slowly unclosed; a youthful figure glided through the opening, and we stood in the presence of the young Napoleon. His appearance is peculiarly prepossessing. The delicate and chiselled beauty of his features-their air of mournful intelligence and serene command-the deep, sad, settled composure of his eye-the thoughtful paleness of his cheek-and the lofty, noble, but intense abstraction which characterized all his movements-form too remarkable a portrait to be speedily forgotten. "It is difficult to describe a countenance so peculiar in its expression; so deeply sad when in repose, so captivating when animated by the exertion of speaking. Something, however, must be attempted. He inherits the fair complexion and light hair of his mother; his eyes are blue, deep, sad, and thoughtful. To him have descended the finely formed lips of his father, and the small, beautiful hand; and he boasts the same soft, winning, attractive smile. There is something of the Austrian in his forehead; it is high, but narrow, and not finely developed all else is noble and commanding. But the unwonted paleness of his features, the settled thoughtfulness of his brow, the look of deep, and habitual, and unutterable sadness, betoken one who has brooded over the secrets of his own heart, and found them unmingled bitterness. 'He advanced quickly down the room towards the doctor, and then gave a rapid glance of inquiry at his companion. It was understood and answered. "An intimate and most particular friend." "Your name is -?" "" It is." "And the papers you are in possession of, and have with such difficulty preserved 6 "Are with me." During these short and rapid interrogatories, the duke had so adroitly shifted his position, as to throw the light full upon my companion's countenance, which he scanned with the most searching observation then, as if he were satisfied with the result, he said, with a faint smile, “I am ready, sir, to receive the documents." : "The papers I am charged with," the doctor began, with an air of considerable importance They will speak for themselves," said the prince calmly. “The few moments I can spare to you are sensibly diminishing: excuse me -and he extended his hand. He opened the pacquet-examined its contents eagerly and minutely, and, as he closed his inspection, uttered in a tone of deep feeling These are valuable: the Emperor's family will not forget the obligation of receiving them, or the hazard of the attempt to place them where they will be most precious." At this moment the man of medicine made some observation-I scarcely heard it, so intently was my attention riveted on the princely prisoner-to the effect that he was pained or surprised-I forget which -at observing no vestige, no relic of the late ruler of France in the apartment of his son, to prove that he was not forgotten. Forgotten! Behold the cabinet where the Emperor, when at Shoenbrunn, was wont to read and write for hours alone, and where he first saw my mother's portrait." "Forgotten!" and he touched the spring of a small inlaid writing-stand, and there appeared a beautifully finished miniature on enamel, of Napoleon on the heights of Arcola. "Forgotten!" and he turned a full-length engraving of his grandfather Francis, which hung near him. Its reverse exhibited a proof impression of the splendid print of Bonaparte in his coronation robes. "No"-said the prince, as he earnestly, yet sadly gazed upon it-" he is never", (he spoke in French, with the deepest emotion,) no, he is never-never for one instant-forgotten!" He paused for an instant, recovered his composure, and proceeded in calmer tones. "Farewell, sir. You will hear from ME: from OTHERS. Form no opinion on the state mockery with which you see me surrounded, or the indifference with which I endure it. At present I bow to circumstances their creature, not their victim. Death must shortly produce great changes. I am aware I have friends-many, firm, devoted-my father's!"-his voice trembled-" let them be assured I live but to avenge his memory and-HIS MURDER !" 'He bowed, as a sign the interview was ended, and quitted by the same door as he entered the apartment. Our guide re-appeared, and we hastily retraced our steps. But before we had cleared the precincts of the palace, a voice whispered in my ear, as we hurried through the dark, dismal passage already noticed-" Quit Vienna without delay: your proceedings are watched, and your design detected." pp. 268–274. Some of the anecdotes interspersed through these volumes, relate to distinguished personages of our own court circle, and approach the character of a scandalous chronicle. For example: "Which is Mrs. Arbuthnot?" said an elderly of the old school, whose bent form and silver locks told a tale of years gone by, to a young aspirant in diplomacy, during an entertainment at Lady Strong's, at Putney. "Which is the confidant of Princess Lieven, and the counsellor of the Duke of Wellington? Do I see her in that lovely woman, sitting near our host, with that singularly sweet expression and bright laughing eye?" "No, that is the celebrated beauty, Rosamond Croker, the niece of the sarcastic secretary. The object of your enquiry is nearer home -hush! speak lower-look to the right of Mr. Holmes: see, she is listening with evident satisfaction to the badinage of the great captain. With his grizzled hair, hooked nose, and piercing eye, how like an old eagle! Now, now, she looks this way." "And that is Mrs. Arbuthnot," said the old gentleman, musing. "Those faultless feminine features and clear pale countenance-' " "Which," interrupted his youthful mentor, "are invariably of the same delicate hue, and at no time, rare instance in a woman of fashion! masked with rouge: look at her well: for she's a woman that has served her country." "Her country-how? when? where?" "Those are questions more easily asked than answered: but as nothing ostensible appears, we must suppose it to be in the way of se cret service. Aid," continued the young diplomatist, "she must have rendered, and of no common description. Otherwise there would never have been granted, under an administration on principle hostile to all extravagance-to unmerited pensions-to every species of expenditure unsanctioned by necessity; under a Premier who pared down the Custom House clerks without mercy; whose watchword was "economy" and general order " retrenchment;" who spared no salary, and respected no services-a pension of no less than NINE HUNDRED AND THIRTY-EIGHT POUNDS PER ANNUM TO HARRIET ARBUTHNOT.—No, no; rely upon it, her claims upon her country are weighty, and her services in its behalf unimpeachable." "She is fair," said the old gentleman, "but her predecessor was fairer." "Her predecessor?" "" Yes: the first Mrs. Arbuthnot was one of the most intellectual, elegant, fascinating women that ever lived. Her daughter, Lady Henry Cholmondely, in manner resembles her. She accompanied Ár. Arbuthnot in his embassy to Constantinople, and many of his despatches are indebted for their precision, force, and clearness to the corrections of her severer taste. Long Wellesley-then an indefatigable student and accomplished man of business, heu! quantum mutatus ab illo—was secretary to the embassy; and could bear willing testimony to her delight at the opportunity of enriching her mind with associations acquired from personal observation of a country full of interest, and but little known. The last letters that flowed from her polished pen-and those who knew her best will be the first to do justice to the brilliancy of her style, the fidelity and the variety of her descriptive powers-breathed the language of youth and hope; spoke of past pleasures, and anticipated future gratification: the next accounts stated she was no more. She died at Pera-died when the sad event was utterly unexpected--died under the hands of "native talent:" in other words, some Turkish quack undertook her cure, was credited, and confided in:-died mourned by the whole embassy, and bewailed by her agonized mother: died, except as far as Mr. Arbuthnot was concerned, in the midst of strangers and alone!' Vol. II. pp. 180-184. We are tempted to select one more specimen of the Whychcotte anecdotes, although the reader may naturally require some better confirmation than anonymous authority. "You have called," said the young diplomatist, "the late Queen unfortunate-how is this?"" "I have," said the old man sternly; "and will not recall the epithet. Without passing any opinion on her guilt or her innocence, I term her an unfortunate Princess, because I think few will deny her just claim to that appellation; and that still fewer will assert that she was not, during the greater part of her life, and particularly the closing scenes of it, an object of the sincerest pity. I am old, and, from circumstances and situation, know much of the earlier passages of her married life. I was at Brighton during the first visit of the Princess;-the only period at which she was an inmate of the Pavilion. I = was at table on one particular occasion, when Lady Jersey-she has since gone to her account-may she have found mercy with her God! -was sitting at the right hand of the Prince, monopolizing, as usual, his entire and undivided attention. The Princess, who knew little of English manners, and was unguarded in her own, was guilty of some trivial violation of etiquette, which drew down upon her a hasty censure from the Prince, somewhat harshly expressed. The Princess rose and withdrew in tears. The Prince, who, left to himself, was ever generous and kind-hearted, and who had not calculated that his remark would produce such painful results, rose to follow her. Lady Jersey-what a retrospect a dying hour must have unrolled to the view of that fearful woman!-exclaimed, "Go, go by all means. Follow her. Soothe her by your submission, and then sue for pardon. Let her see her own power. She will never abuse it." The Prince hesitated-advanced-returned - and, with a smile, resumed his seat. Lady Jersey had triumphed. The circumstance was canvassed at Brighton, and commented on. It was mentioned in my hearing, and I called it "unmanly conduct." My observation was repeated, and I was dismissed. I was told, "THAT IN CERTAIN CIRCUMSTANCES NO MAN WAS ALLOWED TO HAVE AN OPINION OF HIS OWN." The Princess was unfortunate in other respects. Dr. Randolph, the Prebendary of Bristol, was appointed to an embassy of a private nature to Germany. Among other commissions, he was charged with letters from the Princess of Wales, which he was directed to deliver personally to the Dutchess of Brunswick, and other members of her family. For some reason or other, the Doctor received counter orders, and another gentleman was despatched to Germany in his stead. Instead of surrendering the Princess's packet to herself in person, he transmitted it to her lady-in-waiting, Lady Jersey, to be by her delivered to her royal mistress. The packet was opened-found to contain letters commenting, in ludicrous terms, on various members of her husband's family, and his mother in particular-these letters were handed over to the parties-and never forgiven. That such communications were highly censurable, indiscreet, and improper, I admit : but what epithet sufficiently strong can be applied to the treachery which could thus way-lay and appropriate them? The end of the Countess was singular. During the Queen's trial, and for some years previous to it, she resided at Cheltenham. On the withdrawal of the Bill of Pains and Penalties, she received a round-robin, numerously signed, telling her that her presence was not desired at Cheltenham, and that she would consult both her quiet and her safety, by a speedy retreat. Considerably chagrined at this docu ment, which was powerfully and convincingly written, she asked a leading personage at Cheltenham, whether public opinion there ran so strongly against her as her letter averred. She was told, it did; and that the advice given in the round-robin was, in the opinion of her counsellor, judicious and sound.' "Then I will quit Cheltenham without delay." Whether she did so, and only reached the first stage of her journey --or whether, when all her hasty preparations were complete, she was suddenly taken ill, I am unable to state positively. This I can affirm, that the vexation and annoyance consequent on the round-robin, brought on the illness which rapidly terminated her existence. She died in the same week as the Queen; and their funeral processions passed on the road. Strange that they shonld thus meet, both silent in death-the injurer and the injured-the oppressor and the victim!' Vol. II. pp. 190—195. The poor Queen! Hard was the measure dealed out to her. The subject recalls to us some stanzas on her death, which have never appeared among Lord Byron's remains; yet, to what other pen may they be ascribed? 'Daughter of Brunswick, Britain's injured Queen, 'In England's cause thy sire, thy brother bled, That debt have nobly paid. Was it not well 'Mid household spies; and, when thy Daughter died, By coward threats, all spark of princely pride, When driven at length to turn upon thy foe, |