parte is not only related to most sovereign princes of Europe, but has more right to the throne of Great-Britain than George the Third, being descended from the male branch of the Stuarts; while this prince is only descended from the female branch of the same royal house. Ritterstein was presented with a snuffbox with Buonaparte's portrait set with diamonds, valued at twelve thousand livres, and received twenty-four thousand livres, ready money, together with a pension of nine thousand livres (3754.) in the year, until he could be better provided for. He was, besides, nominated a knight of the Legion of Honour. It cannot be denied but that Buonaparte rewards like a real Emperor.

But artists as well as authors obtain from him the same encouragement, and experience the same liberality. In our different museums we therefore already see and admire upwards of two hundred pictures, representing the different actions, scenes, and achievements of Buonaparte's public life. It is true, they are not all highly finished, or well composed, or delineated, but they all strike the spectators more or less with surprise or admiration; and it is with us, as I suppose with you, and every where else, the multitude decide: for one competent judge or real connoisseur, hundreds pass, who stare, gape, are charmed, and inspire thousands of their acquaintance, friends, and neighbours, with their own satisfaction. Believe me, Napoleone the First well knows the age, his contemporaries, and, I fear, even posterity.

That statuaries and sculptors consider him also as a generous patron, the numerous productions of their chissels in France, Italy, and Germany, having him for their object, seem to evince. Ten sculptors have already represented his passage over the mount St. Bernard, eighteen his passage over Pont de Lodi, and twenty-two that over Pont d'Arcole. At Rome, Milan, Turin, Lyons, and Paris, are statues of him representing his natural size; and our ten thousand municipalities have each one of his busts; without mentioning the thousands of busts all over Europe, not excepting even your own country. When Buonaparte sees under the windows of the Thuilleries the statue of Cæsar placed in the garden of that palace, he cannot help saying to himself, "Marble lives longer than man." Have you any doubt that his ambition and vanity extend beyond the grave?

The only artist I ever heard of who was disappointed and unrewarded for his labour, in attempting to eternize the memory of Napoleone Buonaparte, was a German of the name of Schumacker. It is indeed allowed that he was more industrious, able, and well-meaning, than ingenious and considerate. He did not consider that it would be no compliment to give the immortal hero a hint of being a mortal man. Schumacker had employed near three years in planning and executing in marble the prettiest model of a sepulchral monument, I have ever seen, read or heard of. He had inscribed it, The future Tomb of Buonaparte the Great. Under the patronage of Count de Beust, he arrived here; and I saw the model in the house of this minister of the German Elector Arch-Chancellor, where also many French artists went to inspect it. Count de Beust asked de Segur, the grand master of the ceremonies, to request the Emperor to grant Schumacker the honour of showing him his performance. De Segur advised him to address himself to Duroc, who referred him to Denon, who, after looking at it, could not help paying a just tribute to the execution and to the talents of the artist, though he disapproved of the subject, and declined mentioning it to the emperor. After three months attendance in this capital, and all pe-titions and memorials to our great folks remaining unanswered, Schumacker obtained an audience of Fouche, in which he asked. permission to exhibit his model of Buonaparte's tomb to the public for money, so as to be enabled to return to his country. "Where is it now?" asked Fouche. "At the minister's of the Elector Arch-Chancellor," answered the artist. "But where do you intend to show it for money?" continued Fouche. "In the Palais Royal."-" Well, bring it there," replied Fouche. The same evening that it was brought there Schumacker was arrested by a police commissary; his model packed up, and with himself put under the care of two gens-d'armes, who carried them both to the other side of the Rhine. Here the Elector of Baden gave him some money to return to his home, near Aschaffenburgh, where he has since exposed for money the model of a grand tomb for a little man. I have just heard that one of your countrymen has purchased it for one hundred and fifty louis d'ors.

MY LORD,

LETTER XLV.

Paris, September, 1805.

THOSE who only are informed of the pageantry of our court, of the expenses of our courtiers, of the profusion of our Emperor, and of the immense wealth of his family and favourites, may easily be led to believe, that France is one of the happiest and most prosperous countries in Europe. But for those who walk in our streets, who visit our hospitals, who count the number of beggars and of suicides, of orphans and of criminals, of prisoners and of executioners, it is a painful necessity to reverse the picture, and to avow that no where comparatively can there be found so much collective misery. And it is not here, as in other states, that these unfortunates, reduced, or guilty, are persons of the lowest classes of society; on the contrary, many, and, I fear, the far greater part, appertain to the ci-devant privileged classes, and descend from ancestors noble, respectable, and wealthy, but by the revolution have been degraded to misery or infamy, and perhaps to both.

When you stop but for a moment in our streets, to look at something exposed for sale in a shop-window, or for any other cause of curiosity or want, persons of both sexes, decently dressed, approach you, and whisper to you-" Sir, bestow your charity on the Marquis, or Marchioness-on the Baron, or Baroness such-a-one, ruined by the revolution ;" and you sometimes hear names on which history has shed so brilliant a lustre, that while you contemplate the deplorable reverse of human greatness, you are not a little surprised to find, that it is in your power to relieve with a trifle the wants of a grandson of an illustrious warrior, before whom nations trembled, or of the grand-daughter of that eminent statesman, who often held in his hands the destiny of empires. Some few solitary walks, incognito, by Buonaparte, in the streets of his capital, would perhaps be the best preservative against unbounded ambition and confident success, that philosophy could present to unfeeling tyranny.

Some author has written, "that want is the parent of industry, and wretchedness the mother of ingenuity." I know that you have often approved and rewarded the ingenious productions of my emigrated countrymen in England; but here their labours.

and their endeavours are disregarded: and if they cannot or will not produce any thing to flatter the pride or appetite of the powerful or rich upstarts, they have no other choice left but beggary or crime, meanness or suicide. How many have I heard repent of ever returning to a country, where they have no expectation of justice in their claim, no hope of relief in theif necessities, where death, by hunger, or by their own hands, is the final prospect of all their sufferings.

Many of our ballad-singers are disguised emigrants; and I know a ci-devant Marquis, who is, incognito, a groom to a contractor, the son of his uncle's porter. Our old pedlars complain that their trade is ruined by the Counts, by the Barons, and Chevaliers, who have monopolized all their business. Those who pretend to more dignity, but who have in fact, less honesty, are employed in our billiard and gambling-houses. I have seen two music-grinders, one of whom was formerly a captain of infantry, and the other a counsellor of parliament. Every day you may bestow your penny or halfpenny on two veiled girls playing on the guitar or harp, the one the daughter of a ci-devant Duke, and the other of a ci-devant Marquis, a general under Louis XVI. They are usually placed, the one on the Boulevards, and the other in the Elysian fields, each with an old woman by her side, holding a begging-box in her hand. I am told one of the women has been the nurse of one of those ladies: What a recollection, if she thinks of the past in contemplating the present!

On the day of Buonaparte's coronation, and a little before he set out with his Pope and other splendid retinue, an old man was walking slowly on the Quay de Voltaire, without saying a word, but a label was pinned to his hat with this inscription—“ I had sixty thousand livres rent, (25,000l.); I am eighty years of age; and I request alms." Many individuals, even some of Buonaparte's soldiers, gave him their mite; but as soon as he was observed, he was seized by the police-agents, and has not since been heard of. I am told his name is de la Roche, a ci-devant Chevalier de St. Louis, whose property was sold in 1793, as belonging to an emigrant, though at the time he was shut up here as a prisoner, suspected of aristocracy. He has since, for some years, been a water-carrier; but his strength failing, he supported himself

lately entirely by begging. The value of the dress of one of Buonaparte's running, footmen might have been sufficient to relieve him for the probably short remainder of his days. But it is more easy and agreeable in this country to bury undeserved want in dungeons, than to renounce unnecessary and useless show to relieve it. In the evening, the remembrance of these sixty thousand livres of the poor Chevalier deprived me of all pleasure in beholding the 60 thousand lamps decorating and iiluminating Buonaparte's palace of the Thuilleries.

Some of the emigrants, whose strength of body age has not impaired, or whose vigour of anind misfortunes have not depressed, are now serving as officers or soldiers under the Emperor of the French, after having for years fought in vain for the cause of a king of France in the brave army of Conde. Several are even doing duty in Buonaparte's household troops, where I know one who is a captain, and who, for distinguishing himself in combating the republicans, received the order of St. Louis, but is now made a knight of Napoleone's republican order, the Legion of Honour, for bowing gracefully to her Imperial Majesty the Empress. As he is a man of real honour, this favour is not quite in its place; but I am convinced, that should one day an opportunity present itself, he will not miss it, but prove that he has never been misplaced. Another emigrant, who after being a page of the Duke of Angouleme, made four compaigns as an officer of the Uhlans in the service of the Emperor of Germany, and was rewarded with the military order of Maria Theresa, is now a knight of the Legion of Honour, and an officer of the Mamelukes of the Emperor of the French. Four more emigrants have engaged themselves in the same corps as common Mamelukes, after being for seven years volunteers in the legion of Mirabeau, under the Prince de Conde. It were to be wished that the whole of this favourite corps were composed of returned emigrants. I am sure they would never betray the confidence of Napoleone, but they would also never swear allegiance to another Buonaparte.

While the humbled remnants of one sex of the ci-devant privileged classes are thus or worse employed, many persons of the other sex have preferred domestic servitude to courtly splendour, and are chambermaids or governesses, when they might