racteristic incident, that while the "bettermost classes" could give us no information as to her residence-had "never heard of such a lady -" didn't believe she lived anywhere in that neighbourhood "-" were sure they should have heard of her if she had "we eventually traced her whereabouts by means of the poor. They knew her well: and it was a half-clad, pinched, and shivering old man who, with an expression of as much glee as cold and famine would permit his face to wear, guided us to her house.

She was known only by her good deeds.

It were well if the eminent in station were always similarly distinguished!

Our summons was answered by an elderly, staid, prim-looking matron, who, beyond all question, had been bred in Lord Eldon's school. She had her doubts. Her eye ran over, calmly and deliberately, Mr. Esten's turn-out,-his stylish crest, sleek horses, and puffy coachman; and still, like George the Third's own chancellor, "regard being had to all the attendant circumstances,” she “entertained very considerable doubts."

We tendered our cards and Mrs. Janet Hamilton's bulky note of introduction.

The oracle closed her hand upon them, and at length spoke.

"Lady Ann was at home, and tolerably well that morning; butwas it on any matter of charity we wished to see her?" "No!" burst forth Mr. Esten vivaciously.

'Charity?-No, no!"

The scruples of the vigilant janitress were not yet laid asleep. "Was our visit, might she ask, at all connected with pecuniary matters?"

"Neither directly nor indirectly," said I, quickly, to prevent a burst of wrath from my wearied companion. "Your duty is simple: pray present that note and these cards to her ladyship, and say that we await her pleasure."

Five, ten, fifteen minutes elapsed. Our admission was evidently a matter of debate within. Blinds were drawn up and down,-doors were opened and shut,-windows rattled. At length we were told that Lady Ann would receive us. Up a narrow staircase we followed our conductress into a small and meagrely-furnished drawing-room, where sat a lady far advanced in life, thin and anxious-looking.

She was plainly, almost shabbily, dressed in faded half-mourning. A modern milliner would have wept over its palpable antiquity. Her head-gear was remarkable. It was neither bonnet, cap, nor turban, but a mixture of all three; dark with a good deal of black lace about it, and a profusion of bows of stiff, black love-ribbon. It towered high upon the forehead like a military cap; and when in conversation Lady Ann shook her head dissentingly from some of Mr. Esten's premises, the fabric, bows and all, shook and quivered again in a manner truly trying to human gravity.

Still, amidst all this, there was the bearing-never to be mistaken— of a high-born, self-possessed, and well-bred gentlewomen.

As an almost historical personage, I looked at her with great interest. Silent, her demeanour was painfully stiff, precise, and formal; her countenance then wore an air of gravity, bordering even on sadness: but when she spoke, there was a benevolent smile and a kindly tone, peculiarly gracious and winning.

I was the spokesman: and while Lady Ann made a few graceful inquiries touching the health and well-being of her "valued kinswoman, Mrs. Janet," Mr. Esten drew from a smart mahogany case his treasure-the disputed casket. This he placed without comment upon a small work-table beside him. Lady Ann's regards were fastened upon it at once. She looked at it in silence for a few seconds, and then said,

"That is an old acquaintance! I recognise it at once: it belonged to my royal mistress. How its loss was deplored! Where did it cast it up? and when?

"It has belonged to me, madame, for at least these dozen years,” said Mr. Esten proudly.

it.

"Indeed! so long! The hours "-continued Lady Ann, musingly -"hours? days, I should say, which I have spent in searching for Pardon my curiosity-but how did it come into your pos

session?"

'I purchased it," responded Mr. Esten, with something of a flourish, "from a party who had served for many years in the princess's household; and to whom her royal highness had given it as a reward for meritorious conduct."

"Humph!" said her ladyship; and then added, with quiet emphasis, "it was stolen."

Mr. Esten looked aghast. He rose hurriedly from his seat with an evident intention to explain; then as hurriedly resumed it,muttering the while some deprecatory remarks, of which the only intelligible words were "mistake,"-"high respectability,"-" faithful services," and "monstrous depravity."

"You could with difficulty imagine," continued Lady Ann, coldly, "that an article of such value would be given to a servant? Creature of impulse as the unhappy princess was, she would hardly have bestowed on a menial that which was originally a present from her uncle, George the Third!"

"Mr. Esten was deceived," said I, observing that that worthy was hors de combat; "and if your ladyship will allow me to enter into details, you will see that no common artifice was used."

I then narrated somewhat at length the boy's illness and cure, and the sister's gratitude and subterfuge.

And so

"I remember the party," said Lady Ann when I concluded; "she was very obliging, and had remarkably pleasant manners. Susan was the thief! We fancied that the box and any papers that it might contain had found their way, like other waifs and strays,' to Carlton House. And that prompts the inquiry," she continued, turning and addressing the discomfited Mr. Esten, "whether any letters were in the casket when it came into your possession? The queen always fancied that it had been filled with papers."

The distressed gentleman so distinctly called upon bowed courteously to Lady Ann, and then waved his hand piteously to me in token that he was past all oral communication. The imputation of being a receiver of stolen goods weighed heavy on his soul.

"No letter but one," said I, most unwillingly again becoming spokesman, "which we conceive to have been written by the late Princess Charlotte, and addressed to her mother: your ladyship can perhaps identify it?" I handed her the letter.

"Yes; your conjecture is correct," said Lady Ann: "that is the

Princess Charlotte's writing beyond all doubt. That letter was received in Connaught Place a day or two before the princess's hasty flight from Warwick House. Verbal as well as written messages passed at that crisis between mother and daughter. Oh, yes! Every word of that brief note was written by the princess! Of that I'm positive. How I have heard the poor queen lament the loss of that letter!"

I glanced at my companion, expecting that this confirmation of his views would cheer and rouse him. I was disappointed. Bitterly chagrined, he maintained a resolute silence.

Reverting to the past, Lady Ann proceeded :-"That my royal mistress was careless and unsuspicious, and often left desks and cabinets open which should have been carefully secured, is too true; but of what repeated and audacious robberies of papers had she to complain? The letters of Lady Douglas to Mrs. Fitzgerald, which would have told much in the princess's favour, and which she kept in a cabinet in her own sleeping-room, were stolen from her immediately prior to the first conspiracy against her in 1806. Years afterwards a letter which the Duke of Kent wrote her (a confidential and kind letter through life he was her friend), to put her on her guard against a certain peer, was taken out her writing-desk. Within one week it was in the prince's possession at Carlton House! In fact, from the hour she landed in this country, up to the week of her death, she was watched by spies,-spies even in her own household, who were in the pay of her husband. He was kept thoroughly au fait of all that took place in the dwelling of his wife! and his chief informant-a woman! But all this is idle, and worse than idle. It only excites and distresses me; and to no purpose. It is a subject I rarely revert to. The persecutor and the persecuted are gone, and I must shortly follow them."

I made some complimentary allusion to her firm fidelity to her royal mistress amid the ingratitude and desertion of others on whose adherence she might have counted.

"Of that I am clear. I never failed her. I was with her on the eventful coronation morning, and braved the mob. There is no point on which I can reproach myself. I said I never would desert her, and I never did."

But in spite of considerable native resolution, the burden of years told. Lady Ann looked fagged and exhausted when she ceased speaking, and we rose to take our leave. Mr. Esten still remaining silent, I thanked her ladyship, in his name and my own, for the details she had given us, and for her valuable testimony in favour of the royal relics. She bowed in reply, merely adding,

"I ought not to have seen you. Our interview has led to discussions on a subject on which I cannot be silent, but which I feel I should avoid."

Once in the carriage, I congratulated Mr. Esten on the result of the conference.

"I shall break up my collection," said he vehemently; "a pretty joke at my time of life to be treated as the receiver of stolen goods.” "But, my good sir, reflect—”

"Hammond," said the old gentleman, "I've one request to make, and it is this; never mention to me this box, yellow letter, or vexatious drive to Pentonville again. If you do, our friendship ends."

I obeyed him.

MEMOIRS OF CHATEAUBRIAND.

WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.

[CHATEAUBRIAND was born in Bretagne, the sombre land of forests The fairies, with golden harps, who haunt these majestic woods, presided at his birth, and crowned his brows with bay leaves. His childhood was passed in a gloomy old castle, which frowned upon the sea; the dashing and foaming of the waves alone broke the dreary stillness of the scene; thus his character took almost imperceptibly a shade of melancholy, his love of the sea became a passion, which lasted as long as he lived. Unfortunately, Chateaubriand did not meet with that tenderness and affection from his family, which, to a sensitive and ardent nature like his, was absolutely necessary to the development of his genius: the endearments of the domestic circle were unknown in the castle of Combourg. His mother was anxious that he should enter the Church, but his father does not seem to have formed any plans with regard to his future path in life; he was entirely abandoned to his own feelings and pursuits; his chief amusement at this time appears to have been in scribbling and rhyming, but he soon found a sweet companion in his sister, Lucille, and henceforth he becomes a new being; he has left us only a sketch of this favourite sister, while he has given us full length portraits of most of the other members of his family.]

"My father, M. de Chateaubriand, was a tall, gaunt-looking_man, with an aquiline nose, thin white lips, and deeply sunken eyes. When he was angry, his countenance assumed an expression which was really terrible; I have never seen any person who looked as he did on these occasions; his flashing eye-balls seemed as if they would leave their sockets, and strike the offender to the ground, like a thunderbolt. The ruling ambition of my father was family pride.

"He was naturally grave, and became still more so as he grew older; his taciturnity was remarkable, and he roused himself from it only by fits. He was avaricious, from the desire of restoring to his family its original honours; haughty to his equals, harsh and severe to his dependants, and in his domestic circle he was tyrannical and unbending; in beholding him it was impossible not to fear him. If he had lived till the Revolution, and had been younger, he would certainly have taken a prominent part in it, or would have died in defending his château of Combourg. He undoubtedly possessed considerable talent; and if he had been placed at the head of an Administration or of an army, he would certainly have distinguished himself. It was on his return from America that he seriously thought of marrying. He was born on the 23rd of September, 1718, and on July the 3rd, 1753, at the age of thirty-five, he married Apolline Jeanne Suzanne de Bedée, born April 7, 1726, and daughter of Messire Ange Annibal, Comte de Bedée, Seigneur de la Bouëtardais. My father took up his residence at St. Malo, with his bride, within a few miles of which place both he and my mother were born; so that they could see from their dwelling the horizon under which they first came into the world. My maternal grandmother, Maria Anne de Ravenel de Bois

VOL. XXIV.

X X

teilleul, Dame de Bedée, born at Rennes, the 10th of October, 1698, was educated at St. Cyr, in the latter years of Madame de Maintenon. Her daughters were unconsciously influenced by the nature of her education. My mother possessed very good abilities and strong imagination; her mind had been modelled upon the study of the works of Fénélon, Racine, and Madame de Sevigné. She had been bred up in familiarity with the anecdotes of Louis the Fourteenth's time; she knew the whole of Cyrus by heart. Apolline de Bedée's features were large and strongly marked; she was dark, small, and ugly; the elegance and vivacity of her manners, and her whole disposition, formed a strong contrast to the rigidity and calmness of my father's usual manner. She loved society as much as he enjoyed solitude; she was altogether as arch and animated as my father was cold and silent; in short, she did not possess a taste but it was completely opposed to her husband's. The contrariety which she experienced affected her spirits, and from being extremely lively and amusing, she became quite melancholy; she was often compelled to remain silent, when she would have liked to enter into conversation. Finding herself thus restrained, she assumed a fractious sadness, mixed occasionally with heavy sighs, which alone broke the melancholy silence of my father. Still she was as good and devout as an angel.

"My mother gave birth to her first child, a boy, at St. Malo; he was christened Geoffrey, the name of all the eldest sons of my family; he died very young. After this boy another was born, and two girls, none of whom lived beyond a few months. These four children died of an overflow of blood to the head. At length my mother presented my father with another boy, who was named Jean Baptiste ; he afterwards became the grandson-in-law of M. de Malsherbes. Four girls were born after Jean Baptiste, Marie Anne, Bénigne, Julie, and Lucille; all the four were extremely beautiful, but the two eldest only survived the stormy times of the Revolution. I was the last of these ten children; it was with difficulty that I was brought into the world; I seemed to have an aversion to existence. The following is an extract from the register of my birth in 1768:

"François-René de Chateaubriand, son of René de Chateaubriand and of Pauline Jeanne Suzanne de Bedée, his wife, born the 4th of September, 1768, and baptized the following day, by me, Pierre Henry Nouail, principal vicar of the Archbishop of St. Malo; Jean Baptiste de Chateaubriand, his brother, was his godfather, and his godmother was Françoise Gertrude de Contades. These persons have signed their names, as well as the father, in the following manner: Contades de Plouër, Jean Baptiste de Chateaubriand, Brignon de Chateaubriand, and Nouail, vicar-general.' In my works I have made a slight blunder as to the month of my birth; I have stated that I was born on the 4th of October, instead of the 4th of September; my Christian names are, François René, not François Auguste.*

"The house which my parents then inhabited, is situated in a dull narrow street of St. Malo, called Rue des Juifs; the house is now an inn. The room in which my mother's accouchement took place, looked out upon a deserted part of the city walls; from the window

Twenty days after me, on the 15th of August, 1768, in another island at the other extremity of France, Bonaparte was born.