perhaps not received my letter; fighting was still going on, it is possible that it may have been stopped on its way; the communications must now be re-established. My determination is taken, I have no doubt of this note coming to your hands.

' I do not repeat what I have already told you; I then complained of my situation; I now rejoice at it; my mind and attention are relieved from an enormous weight; my downfall is great, but it is at least, said to be productive of good.

• In my retreat, I intend to subititute the pen for the sword. The history of my reign will gratify the cravings of curiosity; hitherto, I have only been seen in profile; I will now shew myself in full to the world. What facts have I not to disclose! How many men are incorrectly estimated! I have heaped favours upon a countless number of wretches! what have they latterly done for me?

'They have all betrayed me, one and all, save and except the excellent Eugène, so worthy of you and of me. May he ever enjoy happiness under a sovereign fully competent to appreciate the feelings of nature and of honour!

'Adieu, my dear Josephine; follow my example and be resigned. Never dismiss from your recollection one who has never forgotten, and never will forget you. Farewell, Josephine.

'NAPOLEON.

P.S.-I expect to hear from you when I shall have reached the island of Elba. I am far from being in good health.'-pp. 195, 196.

On this occasion too, Josephine proved that whatever of art may have been in her general character, it did not reach her bosom, Her affection for Napoleon was evidently sincere.

my

'On learning the dreadful catastrophe which had just determined the future existence of the emperor, Josephine fell ill; a deep silence was maintained in her presence; her ladies, with pale and alarmed countenances, appeared to give way to grief and dejection. Gradually reviving from her state of stupor, and recalling her strength of mind: "It is not fitting that I should remain in this place," exclaimed Josephine, presence is called for near the emperor; I ought to fulfil a duty which belonged much more to Maria Louisa than to me; the emperor is alone and deserted.... well then, I will remain true to him. It was only whilst he was in the enjoyment of happiness that I could remain separated from him. I am quite certain that at this moment he expects me." Tears now rushed from her eyes, and were a seasonable relief to a heart oppressed by such bitter recollections and cares. "Nevertheless," said Josephine to M. de Beaumont, " you will remain with me, until the allied sovereigns shall have made me acquainted with their intentions respecting my future fate; I know them sufficiently to be satisfied that they will bestow upon the deserted consort of Napoleon those attentions which she has a right to expect from them."

During her short residence at Navarre she was constantly writing, without taking any kind of relaxation; she generally rode twice a day in the park; in the morning she was always alone, and in the evening had one of her ladies to keep her company. The conversation usually turned upon the political situation of France, and upon Napoleon, of whom she

delighted to relate various anecdotes known only to herself; but towards the close of her ride she appeared exhausted by the weight of a concentrated sorrow, and always concluded the conversation by these words, uttered with a heavy sigh: "Would that he had heard me!" '-pp. 196, 197.

Josephine was prevailed upon to return to Malmaison, where she was treated with the greatest attention by the Allied Sovereigns. She appeared to be much gratified by the distinguished marks of respect which they lavished upon her, but she never recovered the shock which the recent misfortunes of Napoleon had caused her. The history of her last moments is already well known; but it will bear repetition :

• The emperor Alexander went to visit Josephine on the 10th of May, and dined at Malmaison. She remained in the saloon, notwithstanding her acute bodily sufferings, which she endeavoured to resist. A game at prison-bars was played after dinner on the handsome lawn before the palace; she attempted to take part in it; but her strength failed her, and she was under the necessity of sitting down. Her altered countenance was noticed by every one; to the most anxious enquiries she replied with a smile, that a little rest would restore her strength; every one, in fact, retired with the hope that she would find herself better the next morning.

With a view to calm the uneasiness excited by her state of health, she attempted to take her usual walk; but her illness assumed a serious turn, and she was brought back to her apartment in a condition which excited great alarm.

• The symptoms did not improve in the course of the day; she had repeated faintings. The night was still worse; she was already attacked with a kind of delirium; her mind was much agitated; she spoke much, contrary to the physician's express recommendation.

On the 24th May (it was on a Friday) she awoke with a severe pain in her throat. The king of Prussia and the emperor Alexander were expected to dine that day at Malmaison. Finding that her majesty had a slight attack of fever, M. Horeau insisted upon her remaining in bed, and avoiding the least cold, the more so as, having taken a purgative medicine, her exposure to the air might be attended with serious danger. As the empress did not seem disposed to follow his advice, he deemed it proper to appeal to Madame d'Arberg's influence; and this lady endeavoured to obtain a promise from her majesty that she should not rise from her bed. All was in vain; Josephine insisted upon dressing as usual, and descending from her apartment in order to do the honours of her house to the allied sovereigns. She sat down to table, assisted at the court circle; but at last her sufferings increased to such a degree, that she was forced to retire, and requested of queen Hortense to supply her place.

From that moment her illness assumed a very serious and alarming turn. The next day, 25th of May, the emperor Alexander paid her a visit, and finding her much altered since the preceding day, he proposed to send her his private physician; she declined the offer, out of consideration for M. Horeau, in whom she reposed the utmost confidence. He had formerly been the emperor's physician, and in quarterly attendance upon him. Ever since the divorce he was attached to the empress, who entertained the highest opinion of his character and medical skill.

'He invariably gave his attendance to her in the morning, and as soon as the consultation was over, he took his departure for Paris. As he was lodged in a very small apartment at Boispréau, he never remained there; it was therefore doing him a manifest injustice to accuse him of neglect during that fatal 25th of May. He was anxious to remain at Malmaison; but the empress, being apprehensive lest he should prevent her from rising, as it was her intention to do, pressed him to return as usual to Paris. As her health did not yet excite any apprehension for her life, he gave way and took his departure.

'At night, the physician of Rueil was sent for; he was greatly alarmed at the danger in which he found the empress, whose imprudent conduct was attended with such fatal consequences. He thought it would be advisable to apply immediately twenty-five leeches on the back of the neck and between the shoulders. He would not however take upon himself the responsibility of so violent a remedy; a messenger was sent to Paris in search of M. Horeau; some time elapsed before he could be found; he arrived at last, and nothing could exceed his distress of mind when he found her majesty in a condition which left but very faint hopes of her recovery. She was perfectly collected, but spoke with great difficulty. Her looks seemed to question M. Horeau, who attempted in vain to disguise his affliction. She pressed his hand to prove to him that she was fully aware of her danger; and she displayed in that dreadful moment all the courage which was to be expected from her well known character.

'M. Horeau consulted with M. Lamoureux, the physician who had been called in; the latter stated it as his opinion that the application of leeches might have saved the empress; but he had not ventured to resort to this remedy without the previous approbation of her majesty's regular physician. "Why, sir," exclaimed the latter, " in a case like this you ought not to have waited for me; the loss of two hours is fatal."

' A blister was applied between the shoulders, and sinapisms to the feet; but, alas! it was too late! her dreadful malady was making rapid and frightful strides.

This excellent woman, always apprehensive of giving pain to those she loved, abstained from all complaint, took every remedy that was prescribed, and by her gentle and affectionate looks endeavoured to calm the fears of those who surrounded her.

'She was informed that Redouté, the celebrated painter of flowers, whose talent she admired, was at Malmaison, where he came to paint two beautiful green-house plants: she expressed by signs her wish to see him. As soon as he appeared, she held out her hand to him, and then gently forced him back, saying that she was afraid her complaint might be contagious. "Next week," said Josephine, " I trust I shall see you working at some fresh master-piece."

'During the night, from the 27th to the 28th, she fell into a lethargic sleep, which lasted five hours. At ten o'clock in the morning M. Bourdois arrived. He agreed with M. Horeau that she was past all hope, and deemed it proper to prepare queen Hortense and the viceroy, who, alarmed at the rapid inroads made upon that idolized countenance which they were contemplating with an always increasing apprehension, made her prepare for receiving the sacraments, and sent for the curate of Rueil to administer the rites of the church. He was from home; and she con

fessed to the preceptor of the young princes of Holland, who, though a priest, had long ceased to exercise his clerical functions. She answered with great difficulty, as her tongue was gradually refusing to perform its functions; but her countenance lost none of its calm and benevolent expression.

The emperor Alexander arrived at Malmaison; Josephine appeared to revive on seeing his majesty, and cast a look of gratitude upon him. Prince Eugène and queen Hortense knelt near their mother's bed, and received her blessing. They were both unable to address a single word to the emperor; their sobs alone gave utterance to their grief. "At least," said Josephine, with an expiring voice, " I die regretted; I have always desired the happiness of France, and have done every thing in my power to promote it; I may say, with truth, in the presence of you all who now attend my dying moments, that the first wife of Napoleon has never caused a single tear to flow." These were her last words, and the next day, 29th of May, at half-past eleven in the morning, her sufferings were at an end, and those of her family past all remedy or consolation!

The author has inserted, in her concluding chapters, a few of a series of letters, written by Josephine, which she intends to collect and publish shortly in a separate work. We hope that she will furnish the world with satisfactory proofs of their authenticity. One of the specimens before us is certainly an extraordinary composition, if it can be shown to be genuine. It appears to have been addressed to Napoleon before he ascended the throne, and it shows that he had freely disclosed to her, at a very early period, the whole scope of his ambition.

' I have read over your letter, my dear, perhaps for the tenth time, and I must confess that the astonishment it caused me, has given way only to feelings of regret and alarm. You wish to raise up the throne of France, and that, not for the purpose of seating upon it those whom the revolution overthrew; but to place yourself upon it! You say, how enterprizing, how grand, and above all how useful is this design! but I should say, how many obstacles oppose its execution! what sacrifices will its accomplishment demand! and when realized, how incalculable will be its results? But let us suppose that your object were already attained, would you stop at the foundation of the new empire? That new creation being opposed by neighbouring states, would stir up war with them and perhaps entail their ruin. Their neighbours, in their turn, will not behold it without alarm, or without endeavouring to gratify their revenge by checking it. And at home, how much envy and dissatisfaction will arise! how many plots must be put down, how many conspiracies punished! Kings will despise you as an upstart; subjects will hate you as an usurper; and your equals will denounce you as a tyrant. None will understand the necessity of your elevation; -all will attribute it to ambition or pride. You will not want for slaves to crouch beneath your authority, until seconded by some more formidable power, they rise up to oppose you; happy will it be if

* She died of what the faculty formerly called gangrened quinsey, and what now goes by the name of angina.'

.....

poison or the poignard! these dreadful anticipations!

But how can a wife, a friend, dwell on

'This brings my thoughts back to myself, about whom I should care but little, were my personal interests alone concerned. But will not the throne inspire you with the wish to contract new alliances? will you not seek to support your power by new family connections? -Alas! whatever those connections may be, will they compensate for those which were first knit by corresponding fitness, and which affection promised to perpetuate? My thoughts linger on the picture which fear, may I say love, traces in the future. Your ambitious project has excited my alarm; console me by the assurance of your moderation.' - pp. 284, 285.

The author of these memoirs informs us, that she is related to Madame Genlis. This circumstance, perhaps, will account for her present attempt at writing memoirs; for which, however, her talents are not very well calculated. She wants powers of observation, and that experience in the world which render such powers valuable. Her style does not occasionally want neatness, but it sometimes betrays a defective education, and is now and then disfigured by niaserie, which is any thing but a favourable token of a young writer.

ART. VIII. -Transactions of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland. Vol. ii. Part I. 4to. 1829. Parbury, Allen, and Co.

In a former Number of this Work, we dedicated an article to the first volume of these Transactions. We spoke of its contents with praise; and the present volume contains still more important

matter.

It opens with Mr. Colebrooke's Essay on the Philosophy of the Hindoos: four parts of it were inserted in the preceding volume of these Transactions; the fifth is contained in the present. The two together comprise the complete system of the precepts and doctrines of the Wedas, both practical and theological.

This article is followed by a Description of the Ruins of BuddhaGaya, by Dr. Francis Buchanan Hamilton, M. R. A. S. The Doctor informs us that Buddha-Gaya was probably, at one time, the centre of religion in India, and the residence of a powerful king: pilgrimages are still made to it. Some years ago, the king of Ava sent two persons of rank to discover its holy places, and to bring back with them the waters of many sacred streams and pools, to form a bath for their master. They asserted that their master possessed books, by the assistance of which they could trace the sacred places, and detail their history. This article shows how much both of the civil and the literary history of India remains yet to be discovered.

It is followed by "Observations respecting the Small-pox and Inoculation, in Eastern Countries, with some Account of the Intro