And again: two months later

'Hartwell, 13th March, 1811. 'My grief has lost its sharpness, but it does not wear off-any trifle awakens it afresh. A bit of paper, accidentally marked with two letters by which I used to designate her, has this morning painfully reminded me that I shall do so no more. The other day the Duke of Havre, on coming into the room before dinner, followed by the Duchess of Serant, whom I did not see, stepped aside, as he used to do for HER in happier times. This accident created a momentary illusion, the recovery from which was painful: but still more painful, and which I feel as an additional calamity, is that the time is come which must divide me from even her dear remains. Wishes, which I could not resist, oblige me to send them to the tomb of her ancestors in Savoy. The removal will take place on Tuesday. It cannot be helped-but I feel that I am again separated from her.'-p. 75.

Again: a month later—

'Hartwell, 1st April, 1811. 'You know how much I love spring, how delighted I have always been with the first fine days, the first leaves, the first flowers-the delight is not destroyed, but that drop of wormwood mixes itself with it. When I breathe this genial air, I say, it would have done her so much good. We have a white camelia here, which never has flowered so brilliantly as this year. Alas! it reminds me that I had bought it for her on her birth-day. That birth-day has since revolved. I softened the grief it revived by prayers for the departed. But do not imagine that I would get rid of this drop of wormwood, for that could only be by forgetting her.'-p. 80.

If these letters had been written to any one but M. d'Avaray, or, in other words, if it were possible that they could have been intended for effect, we should have thought that there was rather too much of this sentiment-but under the very peculiar circumstances of the case, there can be no doubt that they were the sincere overflowings of Louis's feelings; and we notice them the rather, because it was not, we believe, generally suspected that so much connubial affection had existed.

The good Queen died with exemplary piety, courage, and presence of mind. The King relates one anecdote of the serenity with which she approached her end. So long ago as in the year 1769, a gentleman in the household of the Count d'Artois, of the name of Motte, happened to die during a very violent storm; from this incident the royal family had been in the habit of saying amongst themselves, whenever they spoke of tempestuous weather 'tis the weather of Motte's death. While the Queen was dying, the weather was very boisterous-the worst, indeed, the King had ever witnessed in England. She quietly whispered him who sat

by

by her bed, You will not hereafter talk of "the weather of Motte's death """

The King was a scholar, and particularly well versed in Horace. M. d'Avaray had written home for some books, and amongst others, for a French translation of Horace. His royal friend replies

Your commission about Horace was not so easy. There is a translation by the Abbé Desfontaines, but he got no farther than the middle of the third book of the odes-so that would not suit you. I lately bought a translation by M. Daru-the tribune Daru-the Count Daru. It is in verse; here and there happily enough executed, but more frequently very poor, and sometimes it does not give the meaning at all-this again is not what you want-I have therefore fallen back on the old translation of Le Père Sannazar, which is on the whole the least imperfect.'-p. 111.

Here the editor subjoins a note to prove that the King was in error, and for Sannazar should have written Sanadon. There is no doubt that Sanadon was meant, but it is much more probable that the copyist, who has made a multitude of blunders, has made this additional mistake, than the King, who certainly could hardly have confounded the Italian Sannazaro with the French Jesuit Sanadon. His Majesty proceeds:—

'But I fear that the good father may have only translated the opera expurgata. That he should have omitted "Rogare longo putidam te seculo"-" Quid tibi vis mulier nigris dignissima barris"-would be very right; these two odes are really disgusting, as well as some scattered lines in the satires; but there are many delicious passages unnecessarily cut out, which I should be sorry that you should not have. I see but one remedy-send me the list of the odes you have, with their numbers, and the few first words thus-L. i. Od. i., Mæcenas atavis, &c. I shall then see what you want, and will endeavour to supply the deficiency by an humble attempt of my own.'— p. 111.

We should have liked very much to have had some specimens of this royal version of Horace; and we have reason to suspect, that, upon this hint, the Parisian booksellers are actually preparing to publish his Majesty's translation-a design which we find it our duty to defeat, or at least to denounce as a fraud, by stating, first, that we happen to know that some literary men had been requested to versify the odes intended to be put forth in his Majesty's name; and, secondly, that it is next to certain, that his Majesty never made any such translation at all-poor M. d'Avaray having died before he could avail himself of the proposed kindness of his royal friend. If, therefore, the work should appear, it may be safely placed on the same shelf with the fabricated Memoirs of

Louis XVIII., which we exposed in a former Number, and which are now confessed, even by the persons concerned in that publication, to have been forgeries.

We have now done with these letters, and our readers, when told that we have extracted the most interesting passages, will, we think, agree in the opinion we stated at the outset. It is said that the publication was suppressed by the last ministry of Charles X. We can hardly guess why, for though the letters are meagre enough, they are not discreditable to the King's memory, nor, we should have thought, offensive to any one. We rather suspect that the opposition may have arisen from the mode in which the copies were obtained, and that the family of M. d'Avaray objected, as they well might, to such a piracy.

But we have a word or two to say on another score, to the Editor, who appears to be one of the most ignorant and impudent of the tribe. The King, in the course of his letters, sometimes mentions the events of the Peninsular war-as, for example-he says under the date of the 11th September, 1810:

'Nothing new from Spain. Lord Wellington and Massena are still on the qui vive. The former, with a great inferiority of forces, has made hitherto a very fine campaign. The Prince de Condé only yesterday compared it to that of Courtray, in 1744, which did so much honour to Marshal Saxe.'-p. 12.

On this the sapient and candid Editor remarks, that they seem to have been very ill informed in England as to the state of the war; for that Massena had beaten Wellington on every occasion, and that if the Prince de Condé, who was really so good a judge in military affairs, had known the truth, he never could have compared this campaign to that in which Marshal Saxe, with 45,000 men, baffled Prince Charles, who had 100,000.' Now, we wish our editor-who no doubt enjoyed the advantage of all that luminous publicity, and candid accuracy of intelligence, with which Buonaparte was in the habit of exhibiting to the French people and the world at large, the true state of all his military concerns we wish, we say, that this well-informed Frenchman had acquainted us poor benighted Englishmen, with the name and date of any one of the numerous occasions on which Massena had beaten Wellington. He admits the Prince de Condé was an adequate judge, if he had not been misinformed; but he does not tell us how with an almost daily correspondence between the officers of the English army and their friends at home-with a free press --with several journals adverse to the government and to Lord Wellington, who had correspondents on the spot-it was possible for the ministry to deceive not merely the British public, but the Prince de Condé, an intelligent soldier moving in the circles

of

of the best intelligence and as to the forces on both sides, it does turn out that the Prince's analogy was a very just one-for we are told by Colonel Napier, who will not be suspected of diminishing the number of the French, that Massena had under his orders 135,000 men, while Lord Wellington had but 24,000 British, with about 56,000 Portuguese-line, militia, and ordinenza, or levy of peasants. Now, let us see how these disproportionate forces were handled. We will not quote any English authoritythat might be suspicious-but hear what the French themselves

say

Wellington now began to execute a plan of defensive warfare, which he had determined on soon after the battle of Talavera. After the fall of Ciudad Rodrigo, he began to retire, and did not finally stop till he reached Torres Vedras. Four months were employed in slowly operating this retrograde movement. Massena followed him close, exhausting himself by continual fatigues and by daily actions, and struggling with famine, for the English carried off or destroyed all the means of subsistence. Towards the end of October, Wellington halted in an inexpugnable position, where he defied the French general, who for months could not venture to attack him, and in this interval, Wellington collected his reinforcements, and placed himself in a condition to fall on Massena, when he should be at length obliged to break up from a position in which he evidently could not long remain.'-Esquisse d'Histoire, Paris, 1828.

Again; the King writes

5th November, 1810.-Lord Wellington has obtained a great victory over Massena.'-p. 26.

On this our editor observes, that

'Here again there is a great mistake. Wellington did not obtain any great victory over Massena. At this epoch, the French general, having advanced to the very walls (sous les murs) of Lisbon, thought the position of the Anglo-Portuguese unattackable. The two armies contented themselves with observing, and remained for a long while in presence of each other-subsequently Massena retired on Santarem, passed the Lesere and established himself on that position; not a shot was fired.'

Bravo! between the date of the King's last letter, 9th October, and this of the 5th November, there had been fought the battle of Busaco, to which his Majesty alludes, and of which this worthy editor seems never to have heard. But let us see what the Duc de Rovigo, one of the boldest of Buonaparte's apologists and flatterers, says of this campaign.

'Massena penetrated into Portugal, and arrived close behind the English at Busaco; but could not reach them in time. They had collected themselves and occupied the heights in full force, and Massena was unable to dislodge them. Luckily he discovered a bye-road

which was not defended; by this he made a bold flank movement which the enemy did not molest; but to counterbalance this, the French army soon found, in the lines of Torres Vedras, obstacles which it did not suspect and could not overcome. Massena was soon out of a condition to make any attempt on the English army. His own was buried as it were in a grave-(l'armée de Masséna fut enveloppée comme dans un tombeau.) The Emperor blamed Massena for his failure, and he was well nigh disgraced. At last, after having exhausted all the resources of his position, without being at all more able to beat the English, Massena retired and was closely pursued by Wellington, who harassed him to the frontiers of Spain.'-Mém. de Savary, vol. v. p. 73.

It would be idle to pursue this discussion further, but there is one point which so clearly shows the editor's ridiculous ignorance of a subject on which he pretends to decide so authoritatively, that we cannot omit it. He admits that the English won the battle of Albuera, but he imagines that the French army was commanded by Marshal Suchet, and that it was from this action that he obtained his ducal title of Albufera. Now, the French marshal who commanded in this battle, was not Suchet, but Soult. Albuera, where it was fought, is on the western frontier of Spain, near Portugal; and Albufera, whence Suchet derived his title, is on the very opposite side of the Peninsula, near the Mediterranean. The battle of Albuera was fought in May, 1811, and the capture of Valentia, for which Suchet was made Duke of Albufera, did not take place till the year after.

It is only as an amusing specimen of the mixed audacity, ignorance, and falsehood, which the French Editors of the modern school have so shamelessly adopted, that we notice these impertinencies -in any other view they are utterly contemptible.

ART. II. 1. List of the Animals in the Gardens of the Zoological Society, with Notices respecting them, and a Plan of the Gardens, showing the Buildings and Enclosures in which the Animals are kept. 8vo.

2. Proceedings of the Zoological Society of London. 8vo. 1836. 3. Transactions of the Zoological Society of London. 4to. 1836. CANOVA, when he was asked, during his visit to England,

what struck him most forcibly? is said to have replied that the trumpery Chinese bridge, then in St. James's Park, should be the production of the government, whilst that of Waterloo was the work of a private company. And though old recollections compel us to heave a sigh at the downfall of the lion-office in his Majesty's

Tower