FEW individuals of any age or country ever occupied so large a portion of public attention, or so excited the astonishment of the world, as Napoleon Bonaparte, whose unassuming tomb on the barren rock of St. Helena, forms the subject of our present engraving. Thus he who but yesterday might "Have stood against the world, now lies he there, 66 And none so poor as do him reverence." Napoleon Bonaparte, a name at which the world grew pale," who from an humble situation in life created a mighty empire, and placed himself at its head, was born at Ajaccio, in the Island of Corsica, on the 15th of August, 1769, the same year that gave birth to our great Captain, the Duke of Wellington. Napoleon was educated at the military school of Brienne, in France. At an early age he entered into the Republican service, and greatly distinguished himself at the siege of Toulon, at the time it was in possession of the English. Though at this time very young, he felt that VOL. I. energy divine of great ambition, That can inform the souls of beardless boys, And ripen 'em to men, in spite of Nature." the head of the French armies and the A few years sufficed to place him at French republic. In 1804, he was raised to the throne under the title of Emperor of the French, and crowned by the Pope. The whole continent of Europe soon owned his power: three of his brothers and a brother-in-law, with one of his Generals, were placed on the thrones of Spain, Holland, Naples, Sweden, and Westphalia, which was raised into a kingdom: the Electors of Bavaria and Wurtemberg were created Kings; the Emperor of Germany was compelled to relinquish the title. and accept that of Emperor of Austria; and the King of Prussia, whose capital was several times in possession of Napoleon, retained his title but as a feudal tenure. Such was at one time the power of Napoleon, unti', tempting fortune too far, he suffered U reverses, and, after the battle of Waterloo, threw himself on the generosity of the British nation-a generosity which consigned him to the Island of St. Helena. From this captivity the hand of death released him on the 5th of May, 1821, after an illness of six weeks. He gave directions about his affairs and papers until five or six hours before he died. One trait of character displayed itself in his last moments, which marks the "Ruling passion, strong in death." As he found his end approach, he was habited, at his own request, in his uniform of field marshal, with boots and spurs, and placed on a camp-bed, on which he was accustomed to sleep when in health, and preferred to every other. In this dress he expired. Though Bonaparte is supposed to have suffered much, his dissolution was so calm and serene, that not a sigh escaped him, or any intimation to the by-standers that it was so near. His attendants wished his body to be conveyed to Europe; but on opening the will, it was found that he had left a request that it should be interred in the island, and pointed out the spot where he wished his remains to rest, in a beautiful valley under the pendant branches of the combined shade of several flourishing weeping willows, near his favorite spring, and not far distant from the place of his residence. The grave was ten feet long, ten deep, and five wide: the bottom is a solid rock; the sides and ends are walled in with Portland stone; the top of the grave is elevated about eight inches above the surface of the ground, and covered over with three rough slate stones which had been taken from the kitchen floor of the new house, that had been constructed for his residence. The tomb was railed round with green railing, and a sentinel walked round it night and day, to prevent approach within the railing. There was no inscription upon the tomb. The ground surrounding it, it was understood, was to be laid out as gardens, for the accommodation of those who came to visit the grave of the departed Emperor. The cemetery of Napoleon is a singular instance of adaptation to the character of the individual buried-a vast rock rising out of the ocean, alone, towering, unshaken and magnificent; a perfect emblem of the genius of the man, as it must appear in future history. When the feminine apprehension of the magic of his name, or hatred to his ashes, that consigned them to such a grave, instead of bringing them to Europe, has subsided, and his virtues and vices are duly weighed, unwarped by modern prejudices, his name, connected with his gigantic exploits, will still more resemble the rock of St. Helena rising "majestic 'mid the solitude of time." Shortly after the death of Napoleon, Captain Lockerby was at St. Helena, and visited his humble tomb.While he was ruminating on the narrow spot, that contained all that remained of him that had awed the world, he observed some ladies, who, on their way from India to England in the Moira, had landed and were urged by similar curiosity, to visit the tomb. They had brought refreshments with them, and sat on the grass. One of them approached the well (which it was well known was a favorite of Bonaparte) and drew some water, which they drank. Whether the water tasted uncommonly sweet after that to which they had been so long accustomed on ship-board, or they conceived the Emperor had, in his rocky prison, relinquished the garb and "high imagi nations" of the monarch, and assumed the manners and frugality of the anchorite, Capt, L. is unable to decide; but on drinking a draught, one of those ladies seriously observed, "How happy Bonaparte must have been to have such delicious water to drink!" Capt. L. could not help smiling at the philosophy of the female, who could find in a glass of pure water an antidote for the loss of health and liberty, and power, and domestic affection. The ladies filled their empty bottles at the well, observing that they would carry some of the chrystal beverage to England. Capt. L. followed their example, and brought a bottle of it to Liverpool. We cannot better conclude our notice of this subject than by the following lines, written by a young and provincial poet (Mr. C. A. Hulbert, of Shrewsbury) on THE GRAVE OF NAPOLEON. The tempest is hush'd, and the Eagle is dead! His thunderbolts fly, and his wings clap no more! The plumes that to war and to victory led, For ever lie folded on Helena's shore. But where is the tomb that should mark the repose, Of that bright flaming Comet on Or the shrine which the bay and the Where the song echoes loudly-the Wonder of ages! Beneath the deep shade of a mute willow only, O'er his still honour'd relics pale And a letterless stone, midst its moun- SPIRIT OF THE Public Journals. THE EPIGRAM CLUB. The Clubs of London, in their variety and hostility, resemble the Clans of Scotland. The Highland lass ridicules the Lowlahd lads. So the spurred and booted member of Brookes's, Albemarle-street, dubs the Alfred a casting an eye of scorn up the vista of congress of blue-stocking old women. The Union sets at nought the Verulam, while the brethren of the latter think Alone marks the spot where Napo- that, with the title of Lord Bacon, they leon sleeps. have exclusively inherited no small portion of his learning and sagacity. The Beef-steak club meets under the roof of the Lyceum; Rich, its founder, was proprietor of Covent-garden theatre: ergo, its members must eat and drink within Thespian walls. Partridge would have dubbed this a non sequitur; but logic in his day was only in its infancy. The Thespian club assembles at Molard's tavern in Great Russell-street. Every syllable there uttered must smack of the sidescene. If you drink with your neighbour, it is " Measure for Measure." In raising the glass you exclaim, "So the King drinks to Hamlet:" and if you differ in opinion with the gentleman who sits next to you, you ejaculate with Marc Antony, "O pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth." Not the least singular establishment of this kind is the "Unsuccessful" club at the Bedford, so called from its members having failed in dramatic writing. One damned farce entitles a man to be a member, instanter. If his comedy be withdrawn after the se Immortal with man when mausoleums cond night, he must be ballotted for. But if his tragedy be hissed off during the first act, he comes in by acclamation, and may order what dinner he pleases. The perpetual president, with a silver catcall at his button-hole, attained that eminence by a long career of damnation. He proudly boasts that, during a seven years' probation, his most endurable dramatic bantling was a melodrame that set every body asleep. He counts his hisses as a warrior does his wounds, and hopes in time, by dint of bad acting, to make the people in the pit tear up the benches. The last association, and the only one, on which I shall dilate, is called the Epigram Club. Young Culpepper and Captain Augustus Thackeray are members. They assemble at the Wrekin, and lately had a numerous muster to dinner. On the removal of the cloth, the president gave three knocks with his hammer upon a table, whose dinted surface bore evident tokens of many former attacks of the same sort. Si lence being procured, he commenced his harangue by reminding the society, that, there, nobody was required to sing that it was Gothic barbarity to call upon a gentleman to struggle with a cold and hoarseness: that the organs of singing were frequently deranged, those of speaking very seldom: and, therefore, that the usages of this institution were highly rational, inasmuch as no man was there called upon for a song, but every man for an epigram. Then, addressing himself to the member on his right, with the most amusing gravity, he exclaimed, "Mr. Merryweather, may I trouble you for an epigram?" Mr. Merryweather, thus accosted, begged to remind the company that on the Bow-street side of Covent-garden Theatre, stood a statue of Comedy and another of Tragedy. "You are right, Sir," said Culpepper, "and they both look so sober that it would puzzle Garrick himself to say which was which." "You have hit it, Sir," answered Merryweather; "upon that circumstance hinges my epigram. It is as follows: With steady mien, unalter'd eye, Pierian springs when moderns quaff, 66 A pretty general knocking of glasses upon the table denoted that this sally told well; and the society, as in duty bound, drank Mr. Merryweather's health. "Mr. Morris," said the deputy chairman to a member on his right hand, were you at the late masquerade at the Opera House ?" "I was," answered Morris, with all the elation which is felt by a man who thinks he sees an opening for throwing in a good thing. "I went with Lump, the leatherseller. He wore a Domino, but he wanted to go in character." "What character?"-" Charles the Second."" Indeed! and what made him alter his determination?"—" My epigram.”—“ Oh, pray let us have it." Certainly: To this night's masquerade, quoth Dick, And thus to Richard said: You'd better go as Charles the First, For that requires no head." "Bravo," ejaculated the president. "Mr. Vice, you will please to call upon Mr. Snaggs. We must take him in time, or the Hampstead stage will be too sharp for us." Snaggs, who for the last five minutes had been fidgetting and looking at his watch, with as much disengaged hilarity as falls to the lot of any married man, who is tied down to stage-coach hours, started from a reverie, and begged to inform the company, that in his village resided a physician and a vicar, who often walked arm in arm together. "Which circumstance," said Snaggs, "induced me to squib at them after the following fashion: How D. D. swaggers, M. D. rolls! I dub them both a brace of noddies: Old D. D. has the Cure of souls, And M. D. has the Care of bodies. Between them both, what treatment rare One has the Cure without the Care, And one the Care without the Cure." The Secretary now read the report of the society, after which Mr. Daffodil being called upon, gave the following epigram: "To Flavia's shrine two suitors run How, thus twin-courted, she'll behave If she's a fool she'll wed the knave, This effort was received with some applause, but it did not quite amount to a hit. The company seemed to opine that knave and fool were not fit names to call a lady. It mattered little what they thought, young Daffodil had relapsed into his reverie. The following was pronounced considerably bet ter: The chairman's turn arriving, he gave the following: "Two Harveys had a separate wish Each has his pungent powers applied Dear Bell, to gain Money, sure, silence is best, For dumb Bells are fittest to open the chest." "I am quite of your opinion," said he who followed; "and in narrating an epitaph by a disconsolate husband upon his late wife, I mean to confine myself within the same Spartan limits: Two bones from my body have taken a trip, I've buried my Rib, and got rid of my Hyp." MEDICAL AND MERCANTILE SMALL-TALK. There is something particularly piquant in the small-talk of gentlemen of the medical profession. I well recollect the conversation of two young surgeons, who were sitting in the next box to me in a coffee-house near Great Marlborough-street. Oh, by-thebye, Jenkins, I got the finest subject yesterday you ever saw."-" Ay! where did you get it?"-" From France, to be sure, and never saw a fellow so neatly packed; by Jove, he was as round as a ball."-"What was the damage?"—"Oh, the fellow who sent him me, said if I would send him back the hamper full of beef, he should be satisfied; so I sent him a trifle." "Have you any part to spare? (Waiter another chop.)"-"Why, you may have a limb reasonable."" Well, then, next week; but just at present I have got a very pretty small subject." "What did you give?"-"Two shillings an inch, but the cursed fellow had pulled the child's neck almost out of joint, to make it an inch longer. But didn't I tell you of the fun we had at Br's? You know we had that fellow who was hanged on Wednesday for murdering his grandmother. Well, he was devilish ill-hanged, and so we thought we'd galvanize him. We got the battery ready (you know it's a pretty strong one), and, as soon as it was applied, the fellow-but wont you have some more porter? (Waiter, another pint of port.) The fellow lifted up his brawny arm and threw it twice across his breast. The pupils were all delighted, but our Irishman O'Reilly you know O'Reilly, who nearly got into a scrape with cracking the crown of the sexton at St. Pancras-O'Reilly, who was standing by with a stout board in his hand, no sooner saw this motion, than, not quite understanding the affair, and fearing that the fellow was actually coming to life again, he caught him a thwack on the side of the head, which made the cerebellum ring again. Is it he's going to walk?" cried Paddy-thwack and shall justice be defuted?'-thwack-' and shall I be chated out of my shaving money?'* thwack- By Jasus I've floored him!"" "Capital!" cried Jenkins, "I wish I had been there. But have you heard of Astley Cooper's operation?"-" No, what was it?"—"Why, he whipped off a child's leg in thirtyeight seconds and a half: the child didn't know what he was about, and only asked what was tickling it so."-" Clever that, by Jove. Do you hear who is likely to get St. Thomas's ?"-" Why, some say Dr. A. and some say Dr. B. I know B.'s friends have subscribed for thirty new governors. Have you seen the new tourniquet ?"-" No, but I'm told it's clever: what do you think of the Moxa?”—“ A deal of humbug.”— "Have you a small skull ?"-"Yes, I've two.' "Will you lend me one ?" 66 "Oh, certainly." "By-the-bye, where do you get your knives from?" "From Millikin's."-" And your books?"-"I always go to Callow's.' By-the-bye, (whiff, whiff,) I think you havn't changed your dissecting coat, have you?"—" Hush, hush! the people about you will hear they all think now that it's the woodcock, a little too gamy in the next box."-This was quite sufficient for me: I had been for some time aware *I have since discovered that the Surgeon receives a crown for shaving and dressing a subject before dissection. |