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MONTHLY REVIEW OF LITERATURE. 



HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. 

 Memoirs of Lucien Bonaparte; written by himself. Translated under 



the author's superintendence. 8vo. Vol. I. Saunders and Otley. 

 THOSE who lived in the days of Bonaparte's prosperity, when his arras car- 

 ried terror and desolation through Europe, need not be reminded of the in- 

 terest and dread with which the mere mention of his name was attended, and 

 with what eagerness every tale or anecdote connected with that gigantic being 

 was caught up and echoed in every circle of English society during the French 

 war. The sun of Napoleon has long set, the willows are growing wild over 

 his sea-girt tomb, but his deeds live after him and are recollected with an in- 

 terest only inferior because not so dreadful or perilous as when the usurper's 

 eyes looked from the cliffs of France on the shores of Britain, but still with 

 an interest which no other subject belonging to the same period can command. 

 The Parisian press teems with works on Napoleon ; and many of the best 

 have been adopted on this side the channel, whose reception has been almost 

 uniformly flattering to their respective authors. Much has been written, it 

 must be acknowledged, but still the subject seems not to be exhausted. " An- 

 other and another still" we have seen ; and we had nearly added, " I will see no 

 more" when the announcement of Lucien Bonaparte's Memoirs from the bureau 

 of Messrs. Saunders and Otley caused us to suspend our half uttered words. 



These memoirs are not private and family details, they are recollections of 

 public affairs in France commencing with the revolution, and will be found 

 extremely valuable as furnishing materials for the history of the republic and 

 empire. The quantity of matter in the author's possession no doubt rendered 

 it necessary for him to exercise some judgment in selection. In few books 

 have we ever seen the interest so well maintained. The style of the author is 

 generally simple and very graphic ; and it is only occasionally that he adopts 

 that very artificial style so distasteful to an English mind and so characteristic 

 of French composition. 



The whole narrative is so connected in all its parts, that only a very extended 

 series of extracts would give any proper notion of the book before us ; and we 

 have not room for that analysis which might serve instead of such extracts. 

 We leave this first volume of a most valuable and attractive work in the hands 

 of our readers, trusting that they will not forget to read its pages with the at- 

 tention that they deserve. 



As a mere specimen of the style, we extract two portions, one descriptive 

 of Paoli, the patriot of Corsica, the other an account of Madame Bonaparte's 

 escape from Paoli's arrest. 



" The village of Rostino is situated on the mountains, and composed'on^ 

 of tottages and some small houses. Paoli inhabited a convent, where he lived 

 with a noble simplicity. He had every day at his frugal but well served table 

 several guests. Every day a numerous crowd of mountaineers waited for the 

 moment of his going out to see and speak to him : they surrounded him with 

 filial respect. He spoke to all like a good father ; but what at first surprised 

 me extremely, was his recollecting and calling by their names the chiefs of fa- 

 milies whom he had not seen for above a quarter of a century. Those calls, 

 that remembrance, produced upon our islanders a magical effect. The fine 

 head of the noble old man, ornamented with his long white hair, his majestic 

 figure, his mild but penetrating look, his clear and sonorous voice, all con- 

 tributed to throw an inexpressible charm upon what he said. To imagine a 

 patriarch legislator in the midst of his numerous race, I do not think that 

 either painting or poetry could borrow more noble features than those which I 

 contemplated for several months at Rostino. 



" Notwithstanding my enthusiasm, upon reflecting one day on the prodi 



