the culprits as being turned up to the sky when thrown on their backs; with a camel's anatomy this might answer; but with the ordinary race of men they would require what sailors term, "to be canted over, and turned 'tother way up."

We now take leave of our authoress and her pleasant volume, concluding with an extract which conveys both a warning and a tribute to the British press-a warning not to injure their country's influence by hasty judgments on incomplete knowledge of facts-a tribute as proving their successful triumph in the cause of humanity.

"A son of the maternal uncle of the Shah had for many months raised the standard of rebellion, and sustained a vigorous siege against his sovereign's forces. It terminated in his capture by treachery, which was succeeded by his execution, and that of one of his sons and two of his brothers. A few years ago a wholesale mas

From Colburn's New Monthly.

THE PALACE OF MALMAISON: ITS HISTORY AND FORTUNES.

| so excited in his endeavors to catch them (for he must be successful everywhere) that he quite terrified them?

MALMAISON, another melancholy relic of fallen grandeur, has ever been to me a place of peculiar interest. Unlike Marly, where every association is of courts, kings, and etiquette, this was the domestic hearth, the beloved home of that great conqueror, who here forgot glory and victory only to remember that he was a man-the ardently attached husband, the affectionate friend. It is a place connected with all that is most interesting and at-in white,) moved about among her guests tractive in the career of Napoleon.

Who does not remember the lively account given by the Duchesse d'Abrantes, in her amusing Memoirs, of the happy days passed at Malmaison by the First Consul and his friends-the merry games of hide-and-seek, when he chased her and Hortense Beauharnais (the present Emperor's mother,) and many another happy young spirit, through the trees, becoming

Then the evenings passed in those rooms which it had been the mutual delight of himself and Josephine to adorn with every curiosity and luxury, where all the party played at cards, and Josephine, dressed in an elegant costume of white muslin, (Napoleon said women should always dress

in her own quiet, graceful way, or joined in the round game at his desire, and was so egregiously cheated by him, that even she, who never thought about money, complained; when, laughing at her indig nation, with a pinch and a fond kiss, he pounced all his gains into her lap and made his peace. Ah! Napoleon was happy then, and there is in these scenes a domestic charm that endears his memory

Sometimes things did not go on quite so smoothly, however, at Malmaison, when any of the Bonaparte family visited Josephine, for a most cordial hatred seems to have existed between her and the ladies of the imperial family, partaking somewhat of female rivalry and jealousy.

to every heart, for all have at some period | cendently lovely. But on this occasion of their lives experienced the exquisite she had not trusted to the charms of unadelight of household love. dorned beauty, as she literally was resplendent with jewels. Her dress, composed of green velvet, was embroidered in the front with masses of diamonds; her arms, her neck, her head were also encircled with splendid jewels. As she advanced across the room towards Josephine, who, as the wife of the First Consul, did not rise until she approached, Pauline gazed around full of pride and gratified vanity, conscious of the effect created by her beauty, her youth, and her dazzling slendor.

The salutations were cold between the rival ladies. Pauline seated herself, and to break the stiffness of the reception, began conversing in a low voice with Madame Junot, who was placed near her. "Well, Louise, how do I look to-night? What do you think of the Borghese jewels?"

"Think? why they are wonderfulactually éblouissants," returned Madame Junot.

"Vain Pauline! why you knew perfectly before asking me that question you never looked better in your whole life."

One evening in particular-when the beautiful Pauline was to be formally presented to Josephine, on her marriage with the Prince Borghese-must be noted in the annals of Malmaison, Pauline, clever, witty, and most lovely, had accepted the hand of the Borghese, almost a fool in intellect, solely on account of his money and his title. Sacrificing her heart to her ambition, she determined to make the first use of her new honors by endeavoring to humiliate poor Josephine; and in order to carry out this amiable resolution, announced her intention of visiting her on a certain evening shortly after her marriage. Days were passed in preparing the splendid toilette which was to crush her sister-in- "But do you really, now-flattery apart law. At length the memorable evening-think this dress becomes me ?" arrived. Josephine, fully aware of the intentions of Pauline, took her own measures accordingly. She arranged her self for this trying ordeal, of a graceful against a beautiful woman, with consummate tact and a perfect knowledge of that peculiar style of dress well calculated to display her faultless shape, which she has almost immortalized. She wore a white muslin dress edged and trimmed with a narrow border of gold; the short sleeves, which displayed a finely-turned arm, were looped up at the shoulder by large cameos; an enamelled serpent encircled her throat; on her head was a kind of diadem formed of comeos and enamel, confining her hair somewhat in the style of the antique busts of the Roman empresses. She looked so extremely graceful and classical in this attire, that when Napoleon entered the salon he was delighted, and saluted her with a kiss on the shoulder-a somewhat bourgeois caress, by the way. On his expressing his surprise at the care with which she was dressed, she reminded him of the expected visit of Pauline. The evening wore on, and yet the princess did not arrive. Napoleon, having remained beyond his usual time, retired at last to his cabinet. Shortly afterwards the princess made her apperance, looking trans

"Well, it is not exactly vanity that makes me ask you so particularly," replied Pauline; "but it is because I want to astonish Madame Bonaparte, and you know I have spared no pains to mortify her by this display of my new jewels. Yet how elegant she looks in that simple India muslin dress, with those cameos, too, like a Grecian statue; she certainly does understand to perfection the style that suits her. That white dress contrasts so well, too, with the blue satin of the furniture-it is perfect. Good Heavens! what shall I do?" she suddenly exclaimed in an agonized whisper, and turned quite pale.

"What is it?-what can be the matter?" asked Madame Junot, quite alarmed.

"O Louise, why did you not tell me? How cruel not to remind me! To let me come here in this room dressed in green velvet, when the furniture is blue satin! Oh! this is too much. I shall never forgive you! How dreadful I must look by the side of Josephine! This is more than I can bear. I must go away at once."

Pauline was conquered! Elegance had won the day even against beauty. She took a hasty farewell of Josephine, and

hurried out of the room, consoling herself parish church of Rueil. The monument a little in her retreat by displaying her erected to Josephine is large and heavy, jewels before the whole establishment surmounted with cumbrous arches and assembled to do her honor. She passed pillars. The figure of the Empress in a down the alley formed by the household, kneeling attitude appears intended as a preceded by lighted torches, and followed likeness, for the features are strongly by her husband, whom she early taught marked, and the face no longer young. to aspire no higher than to the honor of The funeral of Josephine was magnificent, being her chamberlain; and thus ended and the attachment she inspired was eviin absolute failure this notable wedding-denced by the sincere grief caused by her visit of the Princess Pauline Borghese.

loved to imagine that he was near, and would return again. Touching evidences of her great love so ill requited! Her sufferings during the time that the divorce was as yet undecided are related in the Memoirs written by her attendants.

66

of any one remaining. She will have a night of cruel suffering."

The Emperor made a sign for Madame de Rémusat to withdraw.

"Go to bed," said he to her as she left the room. "Good night. To-morrow I shall see you again; and, in the mean time, be sure I shall not forget the service you have done me this night."

On one occasion in particular Josephine was in so distracted a state after an interview with Fouché on the subject of the divorce, that Madame de Rémusat, her When she was gone he rang the bell, lady in waiting, becoming really alarmed and desired to have his dressing-gown at the frantic expression of her grief, brought. In great haste, taking a light determined, without saying any thing to in his hand, he descended a small staircase her, to acquaint Napoleon with her con- leading down stairs into his own rooms. dition. He had already retired to bed, As he descended, he was conscious of a and, not over-pleased at being disturbed, degree of emotion he seldom felt, but Jodesired her, through his attendant, to sephine's conduct had quite touched him. return early in the morning. But," "Such devotion and resignation in one replied Madame de Rémusat, I must see crowned by his own hand, and who might the Emperor this very night; tell him it fully expect to die on that throne where is not for myself, it is for one who is most he had placed her-a woman he had once dear-for his own, for her sake." so idolized, and whose soul he well knew breathed but for him-spite of all his neglect and coolness, voluntarily to offer him a divorce in order to further and accelerate his own projects-projects, too, whose realization ensured her eternal misery-all this passed rapidly through his mind, and he felt that only one recompense ought to reward such attachment. For a moment all his plans, all the reasons of state, all the ambitious views he had long indulged, vanished from his mind: Josephine, as he had loved her- graceful, fascinating as in her youth-alone stood before him. A sudden idea rushed through his mind, and he almost determinedBut it was only for a moment: before he had turned the lock of the door the vision had vanished, and he approached only to console, and not to heal her sufferings.

At last she was admitted. Napoleon was in bed, with a silk handkerchief tied round his head; he motioned to Madame de Rémusat to approach the little couch on which he lay. She was so much agitated that she could scarcely speak, but at last found words to describe the agitation in which she had left the Empress. As she spoke, he raised himself in the bed, and regarded her with one of those glances which, like his smile, were quite peculiar to himself.

"But why," said he, "has she resolved to anticipate my wishes, and propose a divorce herself?"

66

"Because, sire," replied Madame de Rémusat, she lives but for you, and hopes by this means to give you a last and extreme proof of her devotion. No other reason can exist. It is because I have witnessed the frightful struggle this resolution has cost her that I have presumed to inform you of her situation."

"Poor Josephine!" said Napoleon, "she must indeed have suffered agonies before she could form such a resolution."

As he approached her room he distinctly heard the sound of sobs and groans: the voice was that of Josephine. Her voice exercised a peculiar power over him-a sort of gentle charm-the effect of which he had often experienced. Like the sound of gentle music, it impressed him so strongly, that one day, while he was First Consul, after a review at the Tuileries, on hearing the general acclamations around him, he exclaimed to Bourrienne, "How happy I am to be thus loved! This applause sounds almost as sweet as the voice of Josephine." Alas! what a change since those happy days of love and unity!

But at that time he always heard her speaking words of happiness and pleasure -now her voice was drowned in groans

of misery. Perhaps even now it might | mands a pledge from me-a son-an heir have exercised more power over him had from him whose life has been devoted to it not been raised to express sorrow and her glory. I can answer for nothing; but reproach; but where is to be found that remember, Josephine, whatever happens" man, however great, who can tolerate the--and he sighed deeply-"you will never idea of being blamed-of being in the cease to be dear to me. On this you may wrong? rely. Weep, therefore, no more. I beseech you end these sufferings, that afflict me and are killing you. Away with this despair. Be the friend of that man on whom the eyes of all Europe are fixed; be the sharer in his glory, as you ever will be the partner of his heart; and above all, depend, reckon on me."