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les individus, soit dans les nations; il a pris l'ex-
pression de ces sentimens pour de l'hypocrisie.'
Vol. ii. pp. 391, 392.

Bonaparte, Madame de Staël thinks, had
no alternative but to give the French nation
a free constitution; or to occupy them in
war, and to dazzle them with military glory.
He had not magnanimity to do the one, and
he finally overdid the latter. His first great
error was the war with Spain; his last, the
campaign in Russia. All that followed was
put upon him, and could not be avoided.
She rather admires his rejection of the terms
offered at Chatillon; and is moved with his
farewell to his legions and their eagles at
Fontainebleau. She feels like a French-
woman on the occupation of Paris by foreign |
conquerors; but gives the Emperor Alexan-
der full credit, both for the magnanimity of
his conduct as a conqueror, and the gene-
rosity of his sentiments on the subject of
French liberty and independence. She is
quite satisfied with the declaration made by
the King at St. Ouen, and even with the
charter that followed-though she allows
that many further provisions were necessary
to consolidate the constitution. All this part
of the book is written with great temperance
and reconciling wisdom. She laughs at the
doctrine of legitimacy, as it is now main-
tained; but gives excellent reasons for pre-
ferring an ancient line of princes, and a
fixed order of succession. Of the Ultras, or
unconstitutional royalists, as she calls them,
she speaks with a sort of mixed anger and
pity; although an unrepressed scorn takes
the place of both, when she has occasion to
mention those members of the party who
were the abject flatterers of Bonaparte du-
ring the period of his power, and have but
transferred, to the new occupant of the throne.
the servility to which they had been trained
under its late possessor.

"Mais ceux dont on avoit le plus de peine à contenir l'indignation vertueuse contre le parti de l'usurpateur, c'étoient les nobles ou leurs adhérens, qui avoient demandé des places à ce même usurpateur pendant sa puissance, et qui s'en étoient séparés bien nettement le jour de sa chute. L'enthousiasme pour la légitimité de tel chambellan de Madame mère, ou de telle dame d'atour de

Madame sœur, ne connoissoit point de bornes; et certes, nous autres que Bonaparte avoit proscrits pendant tout le cours de son règne, nous nous examinions pour savoir si nous n'avions pas été ses favoris, quand une certaine délicatesse d'âme nous obligeoit à le défendre contre les invectives de ceux qu'il avoit comblés de bienfaits."—Vol.

iii. p. 107.

Our Charles II. was recalled to the throne of his ancestors by the voice of his people; and yet that throne was shaken, and, within twenty-five years, overturned by the arbitrary conduct of the restored sovereigns. Louis XVIII. was not recalled by his people, but brought in and set up by foreign conquerors. It must therefore be still more necessary for him to guard against arbitrary measures, and to take all possible steps to secure the attachment of that people whose hostility had so lately proved fatal. If he like domestic ex

amples better, he has that of his own Henri IV. before him. That great and populat religious creed of the great majority of his prince at last found it necessary to adopt the people. In the present day, it is at least as necessary for a less popular monarch to study and adopt their political one. about him, we have heard, rather recommend Some of those the example of Ferdinand VII.! But even the Ultras, we think, cannot really forget that Ferdinand, instead of having been restored by a foreign force, was dethroned by one; that there had been no popular insurrection, and no struggle for liberty in Spain; and that besides the army, he had the priesthood on his side, which, in that country, is as omnip otent, as in France it is insignificant and powerless, for any political purposes. We cannot now follow Madame de Staël into the profound and instructive criticism she makes on the management of affairs during Bona parte's stay at Elba;-though much of it is applicable to a later period-and though we do not remember to have met any where with so much truth told in so gentle a manner.

all well-informed persons now admit, that for
Madame de Staël confirms what we believe
months before the return of Bonaparte, the
attempt was expected, and in some measure
prepared for-by all but the court, and the
royalists by whom it was surrounded. When
the news of his landing was received, they
were still too foolish to be alarmed; and, when
the friends of liberty said to each other, with
bitter regret, "There is an end of our liberty
if he should succeed-and of our national in-
dependence if he should fail,"-the worthy
Ultras went about, saying, it was the luckiest
thing in the world, for they should now get
properly rid of him; and the King would no
longer be vexed with the fear of a pretender!
Madame de Staël treats with derision the idea
of Bonaparte being sincere in his professions
to the constitution proposed to him after his
of regard to liberty, or his resolution to adhere
return. She even maintains, that it was ab-
surd to propose a free constitution at such a
crisis. If the nation and the army abandoned
the Bourbons, nothing remained for the nation
but to invest the master of that army with the
dictatorship; and to rise en masse, till their
borders were freed from the invaders. That
they did not do so, only proves that they had
become indifferent about the country, or that
they were in their hearts hostile to Bonaparte.
Nothing, she assures us, but the consciousness
of this, could have made him submit to con
habits-and the world, says Madame de Staël,
cessions so alien to his whole character and
so understood him.
mots de Loi et Liberté, l'Europe s'est rassurée
"Quand il a prononcé les
Elle a senti que ce n'étoit plus son ancien et
terrible adversaire.”

military genius and exalted character of our
She passes a magnificent encomium on the
Wellington; but says he could not have con-
quered as he did, if the French had been led
by one who could rally round him the affec
tions of the people as well as he could direct
their soldiers. She maintains, that after the

battle, when Bonaparte returned to Paris, he | fuse a respectable office, with a salary of had not the least idea of being called upon | 8000 louis, would certainly be considered as again to abdicate; but expected to obtain from fit for Bedlam: And in another place she obthe two chambers the means of renewing or serves, that it seems to be a fundamental continuing the contest. When he found that maxim in that country, that every man must this was impossible, he sunk at once into de- have a place. We confess that we have some spair, and resigned himself without a struggle. difficulty in reconciling these incidental intiThe selfishness which had guided his whole mations with her leading position, that the great career, disclosed itself in naked deformity in majority of the French nation is desirous of a the last acts of his public life. He abandoned free constitution, and perfectly fit for and dehis army the moment he found that he could not serving of it. If these be the principles, not lead it immediately against the enemy-and only upon which they act, but which they and no sooner saw his own fate determined, than their advocates avow, we know no constitution he gave up all concern for that of the unhappy under which they can be free; and have no country which his ambition had involved in faith in the power of any new institutions to such disasters. He quietly passed by the counteract that spirit of corruption by which, camp of his warriors on his way to the port even where they have existed the longest, by which he was to make his own escape-their whole virtue is consumed. and, by throwing himself into the hands of the English, endeavoured to obtain for himself the benefit of those liberal principles which it had been the business of his life to extirpate and discredit all over the world.

At this point Madame de Staël terminates somewhat abruptly her historical review of the events of the Revolution; and here, our readers will be happy to learn, we must stop too. There is half a volume more of her work, indeed, and oue that cannot be supposed the least interesting to us, as it treats chiefly of the history, constitution, and society of England. But it is for this very reason that we cannot trust ourselves with the examination of it. We have every reason certainly to be satisfied with the account she gives of us; nor can any thing be more eloquent and animating than the view she has presented of the admirable mechanism and steady working of our constitution, and of its ennobling effects on the character of all who live under it. We are willing to believe all this too to be just; though we are certainly painted en beau. In some parts, however, we are more shocked at the notions she gives us of the French character, than flattered at the contrast exhibited by our own. In mentioning the good reception that gentlemen in opposition to government sometimes meet with in society, among us, and the upright posture they contrive to maintain, she says, that nobody here would think of condoling with a man for being out of power, or of receiving him with less cordiality. She notices also, with a very alarming sort of admiration, that she understood, when in England, that a gentleman of the law had actually refused a situation worth 6000l. or 7000l. a year, merely because he did not approve of the ministry by whom it was offered; and adds, that in France any man who would re

With our manners in society she is not quite so well pleased;—though she is kind enough to ascribe our deficiencies to the most honourable causes. In commiserating the comparative dulness of our social talk, however, has not this philosophic observer a little overlooked the effects of national tastes and habits-and is it not conceivable, at least, that we who are used to it may really have as much satisfaction in our own hum-drum way of seeing each other, as our more sprightly neighbours in their exquisite assemblies? In all this part of the work, too, we think we can perceive the traces rather of ingenious theory, than of correct observation; and suspect that a good part of the tableau of English society is rather a sort of conjectural sketch, than a copy from real life; or at least that it is a generalization from a very few, and not very common examples. May we be pardoned too for hinting, that a person of Madame de Staël's great talents and celebrity, is by no means well qualified for discovering the true tone and character of English society from her own observation; both because she was not likely to see it in those smaller and more familiar assemblages in which it is seen to the most alvantage, and because her presence must have had the unlucky effect of imposing silence on the modest, and tempting the vain and ambitious to unnatural display and ostentation.

With all its faults, however, the portion of her book which we have been obliged to pass over in silence, is well worthy of as ample a notice as we have bestowed on the other parts of it, and would of itself be sufficient to justify us in ascribing to its lamented author that perfection of masculine understanding, and female grace and acuteness, which are so rarely to be met with apart, aril never, we believe, were before united.

(February, 1816.)

Mémoires de MADAME LA MARQUISE DE LAROCHEJAQUELEIN; avec deux Cartes du Théatre de la Guerre de La Vendée. 2 tomes, 8vo. pp. 500. Paris: 1815.

THIS is a book to be placed by the side of extraordinary incidents, unexpected turns of Mrs. Hutchinson's delightful Memoirs of her fortune, and striking displays of individual heroic husband and his chivalrous Independ- talent, and vice and virtue, than the more soents. Both are pictures, by a female hand, lemn movements of national hostility; where of tumultuary and almost private wars, car- every thing is in a great measure provided ried on by conscientious individuals against and foreseen, and where the inflexible subthe actual government of their country:-and ordination of rank, and the severe exactions both bring to light, not only innumerable traits of a limited duty, not only take away the inof the most romantic daring and devoted ducement, but the opportunity, for those exfidelity in particular persons, but a general altations of personal feeling and adventure character of domestic virtue and social gen- which produce the most lively interest, and tleness among those who would otherwise lead to the most animating results. In the have figured to our imaginations as adventur- unconcerted proceedings of an insurgent popuous desperadoes or ferocious bigots. There lation, all is experiment, and all is passion. is less talent, perhaps, and less loftiness, either of style or of character, in the French than the English heroine. Yet she also has done and suffered enough to entitle her to that appellation; and, while her narrative acquires an additional interest and a truer tone of nature, from the occasional recurrence of female fears and anxieties, it is conversant with still more extraordinary incidents and characters, and reveals still more of what had been previously malignantly misrepresented, or entirely unknown.

The heroic daring of a simple peasant lifts him at once to the rank of a leader; and kindles a general enthusiasm to which all things become possible. Generous and gentle feelings are speedily generated by this raised state of mind and of destination; and the perpetual intermixture of domestic cares and rustic occupations, with the exploits of troops serving without pay, and utterly unprovided with magazines, produces a contrast which enhances the effects of both parts of the description, and gives an air of moral pictur Our readers will understand, from the title- esqueness to the scene, which is both pathetic page which we have transcribed, that the and delightful. It becomes much more attract work relates to the unhappy and sanguinary ive also, in this representation, by the singu wars which were waged against the insur-lar candour and moderation-not the most gents in La Vendée during the first and maddest years of the French Republic: But it is proper for us to add, that it is confined almost entirely to the transactions of two years; and that the detailed narrative ends with the dissolution of the first Vendean army, before the proper formation of the Chouan force in Brittany, or the second insurrection of Poitou; though there are some brief and imperfect notices of these, and subsequent occurrences. The details also extend only to the proceedings of the Royalist or Insurgent party, to which the author belonged; and do not affect to embrace any general history of the war.

This hard-fated woman was very young, and newly married, when she was thrown, by the adverse circumstances of the time, into the very heart of those deplorable contests; and, without pretending to any other information than she could draw from. her own experience, and scarcely presuming to pass any judgment upon the merits or demerits of the cause, she has made up her book of a clear and dramatic description of acts in which she was a sharer, or scenes of which she was an eyewitness, and of the characters and histories of the many distinguished individuals who partook with her of their glories or sufferings. The irregular and undisciplined wars which it is her business to describe, are naturally far more prolific of

usual virtue of belligerent females-with which Madame de L. has told the story of her friends and her enemies-the liberality with which she has praised the instances of heroism or compassion which occur in the conduct of the republicans, and the simplicity with which she confesses the jealousies and excesses which sometimes disgraced the insurgents. There is not only no royalist or antirevolutionary rant in these volumes, but scarcely any of the bitterness or exaggeration of a party to civil dissensions; and it is rather wonderful that an actor and a sufferer in the most cruel and outrageous warfare by which modern times have been disgraced, should have set an example of temperance and im partiality which its remote spectators have found it so difficult to follow. The truth is, we believe, that those who have had most occasion to see the mutual madness of con tending factions, and to be aware of the traits of individual generosity by which the worst cause is occasionally redeemed, and of brutal cutrage by which the best is sometimes de based, are both more indulgent to human nature, and more distrustful of its immaculate purity, than the fine declaimers who aggra. vate all that is bad on the side to which they are opposed, and refuse to admit its existenco in that to which they belong. The general of an adverse army has always more tolera

tion for the severities and even the miscon- | Montmorin, who came to her from the King duct of his opponents, and the herd of ignorant late in the preceding evening, informed her, speculators at home;-in the same way as the that they were perfectly aware of an intention leaders of political parties have uniformly far to assault the royal residence on the night of less rancour and animosity towards their an- the 12th; but that, to a certainty, nothing tagonists, than the vulgar followers in their would be attempted till then. At midnight, train. It is no small proof, however, of an however, there were signs of agitation in the elevated and generous character, to be able neighbourhood; and before four o'clock in the to make those allowances; and Madame de morning, the massacre had begun. M. de L. would have had every apology for falling Lescure rushed out on the first symptom of into the opposite error,-both on account of alarm to join the defenders of the palace, but her sex, the natural prejudices of her rank could not obtain access within the gates, and and education, the extraordinary sufferings to was obliged to return and disguise himself in which she was subjected, and the singularly the garb of a Sansculotte, that he might minmill and unoffending character of the be-gle with some chance of escape in the crowd loved associates of whom she was so cruelly of assailants. M. de Montmorin, whose disdeprived.

She had some right, in truth, to be delicate and royalist, beyond the ordinary standard. Her father, the Marquis de Donnison, had an employment about the person of the King; in virtue of which, he had apartments in the Palace of Versailles; in which splendid abode the writer was born, and continued constantly to reside, in the very focus of royal influence and glory, till the whole of its unfortunate inhabitants were compelled to leave it, by the fury of that mob which escorted them to Paris in 1789. She had, like most French ladies of distinction, been destined from her infancy to be the wife of M. de Lescure, a near relation of her mother, and the representative of the ancient and noble family of Salgues in Poitou. The character of this eminent person, both as it is here drawn by his widow, and indirectly exhibited in various parts of her narrative, is as remote as possible from that which we should have been inclined, à priori, to ascribe to a young French nobleman of the old regime, just come to court, in the first flush of youth, from a great military school. He was extremely serious, bashful, pious, and self-denying,—with great firmness of character and sweetness of temper.-fearless, and even ardent in war, but humble in his pretensions to dictate, and most considerate of the wishes and sufferings of his followers. To this person she was married in the nineteenth year of her age, in October 1790,-at a time when most of the noblesse had already emigrated, and when the rage for tha: infortunate measure had penetrated even to: province of Poitou, where M. de Lescure and previously formed a prudent assocetin of the whole gentry of the country, to whom the peasantry were most zealously attached. It was the fashion, however, to emigrate; and so many of the Poitevin nobility were pleased to follow it, that M. de Lescure at last thought it concerned his honour, not to remain longer behind; and came to Paris in February 1791, to make preparations for his journey to Coblentz. Here, however, he was requested by the Queen herself not to go farther; and thought it his duty to obey. The summer was passed in the greatest anxieties and agitatious; and at last came the famous Tenth of August. Madame de L. assures us, that the attack on the palace was altogether unexpected on that occasion, and that M.

guise was less perfect, escaped as if by a miracle. After being insulted by the mob, he had taken refuge in the shop of a small grocer, by whom he was immediately recog nised, and where he was speedily surrounded by crowds of the National Guards, reeking from the slaughter of the Swiss. The good natured shopkeeper saw his danger, and stepping quickly up to him, said with a familiar air, "Well, cousin, you scarcely expected, on your arrival from the country, to witness the downfal of the tyrant-Here, drink to the health of those brave asserters of our liberties." He submitted to swallow the toast, and got off without injury.

The street in which M. Lescure resided, being much frequented by persons of the Swiss nation, was evidently a very dangerous place of retreat for royalists; and, soon after it was dark, the whole family, disguised in the dress of the lower orders, slipped out, with the design of taking refuge in the house of an old femme-de-chambre, on the other side of the river. M. de Donnison and his wife went in one party; and Madame Lescure, then in the seventh month of her pregnancy, with her husband, in another. Intending to cross by the lowest of the bridges, they first turned into the Champs-Elysées. More than a thousand men had been killed there that day; but the alleys were now silent and lonely; though the roar of the multitude, and occasional discharges of cannon and musketry, were heard from the front of the Tuilleries, where the conflagration of the barracks was still visible in the sky. While they were wandering in these horrid shades, a woman came flying up to them, followed by a drunken patriot, with his musket presented at her head. All he had to say was, that she was an aristocrat, and that he must finish his day's work by killing her. M. Lescure appeased him with admirable presence of mind, by professing to enter entirely into his sentiments, and proposing that they should go back together to the attack of the palace-adding only, "But you see what state my wife is in

she is a poor timid creature-and I must first take her to her sister's, and then I shal! return here to you." The savage at last agreed to this, though before he went off, he presented his piece several times at them, swearing that he believed they were aristo crats after all, and that he had a mind to have

a shot at them. This rencontre drove them | its physical conformation, as in the state and from the lonely way; and they returned to condition of its population. A series of de the public streets, all blazing with illumina- tached eminences, of no great elevation, rose tions, and crowded with drunken and infuri- over the whole face of the country, with little ated wretches, armed with pikes, and in many rills trickling in the hollows and occasional instances stained with blood. The tumult cliffs by their sides. The whole space was and terror of the scene inspired Madame de divided into small enclosures, each surroundL. with a kind of sympathetic frenzy; and, ed with tall wild hedges, and rows of pollard without knowing what she did, she screamed trees; so that, though there were few large out, Vive les Sansculottes! à bas les tyrans! as woods, the whole region had a sylvan and outrageously as any of them. They glided impenetrable appearance. The ground was unhurt, however, through this horrible assem- mostly in pasturage; and the landscape had, blage; and crossing the river by the Pont for the most part, an aspect of wild verdure, Neuf, found the opposite shore dark, silent, except that in the autumn some patches of and deserted, and speedily gained the humble yellow corn appeared here and there athwaṛt refuge in search of which they had ventured. the green enclosures. Only two great roads The domestic relations between the great traversed this sequestered region, running and their dependants were certainly more nearly parallel, at a distance of more than cordial in old France, than in any other coun- seventy miles from each other. In the intertry-and a revolution, which aimed profess- mediate space, there was nothing but a laby edly at levelling all distinction of ranks, and rinth of wild and devious paths, crossing each avenging the crimes of the wealthy, armed other at the extremity of almost every field the hands of but few servants against the lives often serving, at the same time, as channels or liberties of their masters. M. de Lescure for the winter torrents, and winding so ca and his family were saved in this extremity priciously among the innumerable hillocks, by the prudent and heroic fidelity of some old and beneath the meeting hedgerows, that the waiting-women and laundresses-and ulti-natives themselves were always in danger of mately effected their retreat to the country by losing their way when they went a league or the zealous and devoted services of a former two from their own habitations. The countutor in the family, who had taken a very try, though rather thickly peopled, contained, conspicuous part on the side of the Revolution. as may be supposed, few large towns; and This M. Thomasin, who had superintended the inhabitants, devoted almost entirely to the education of M. Lescure, and retained the rural occupations, enjoyed a great deal of warmest affection for him and the whole leisure. The noblesse or gentry of the counfamily, was an active, bold, and good-humour- try were very generally resident on their ed man-a great fencer, and a considerable estates; where they lived in a style of simorator at the meetings of his section. He was plicity and homeliness which had long disapeager, of course, for a revolution that was to peared from every other part of the kingdom. give every thing to talents and courage; and No grand parks, fine gardens, or ornamented had been made a captain in one of the mu- villas; but spacious clumsy châteaus, surnicipal regiments of Paris. This kind-hearted rounded with farm offices and cottages for the patriot took the proscribed family of M. de labourers. Their manners and way of life, Lescure under his immediate protection, and too, partook of the same primitive rusticity. by a thousand little stratagems and contriv- There was great cordiality, and even much ances, not only procured passports and con- familiarity, in the intercourse of the seigneurs veyances to take them out of Paris, but with their dependants. They were followed actually escorted them himself, in his national by large trains of them in their hunting expeuniform, till they were safely settled in a roy-ditions, which occupied a great part of their alist district in the suburbs of Tours. When time. Every man had his fowlingpiece, and any tumult or obstruction arose on the journey, M. Thomasin leaped from the carriage, and assuming the tone of zeal and authority that belonged to a Parisian officer, he harangued, reprimanded, and enchanted the provincial patriots, till the whole party went off again in the midst of their acclamations. From Tours, after a cautious and encouraging exploration of the neighbouring country, they at length proceeded to M. Lescure's château of Clisson, in the heart of the district afterwards but too well known by the name of La Vendée, of which the author has here introduced a very clear and interesting description.

A tract of about one hundred and fifty miles square, at the mouth and on the southern bank of the Loire, comprehends the scene of those deplorable hostilities. The most inland part of the district, and that in which the insurrection first broke out, is called Le Bocage; and seems to have been almost as singular in

was a marksman of fame or pretensions. They were posted in various quarters, to intercept or drive back the game; and were thus trained, by anticipation, to that sort of discipline and concert in which their whole art of war was afterwards found to consist. Nor was their intimacy confined to their sports. The peasants resorted familiarly to their landlords for advice, both legai and medical; and they repaid the visits in their daily rambles, and entered with interest into all the details of their agricultural operations. They came to the weddings of their children, drank with their guests, and made little presents to the young people. On Sundays and holidays, all the retainers of the family assembled at the château, and danced in the barn or the court-yard, according to the season. The ladies of the house joined in the festivity, and that without any airs of conde. scension or of mockery; for, in their own life,

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