the panders, the flatterers and intriguers, who succeed or supplant each other in the crumbling soil of his favour, and so frequently dispose of all that ought to be at the command of wisdom and honour?

Looking only to the eventful history of our own day, will any one presume to say, that the conduct of the simple monarchies of Europe has afforded us, for the last twenty years, any such lessons of steady and unwavering policy as to make us blush for our own democratical inconstancy? What, during that period, has been the conduct of Prussia-of Russia-of Austria herself of every state, in short, that has not been terrified into constancy by the constant dread of French violence? And where, during all that time, are we to look for any traces of manly firmness, but in the conduct and councils of the only nation whose measures were at all controlled by the influence of popular sentiments? If that nation too was not exempt from the common charge of vacillation-if she did fluctuate between designs to restore the Bourbons, and to enrich herself by a share of their spoils if she did contract one deep stain on her faith and her humanity, by encouraging and deserting the party of the Royalists in La Vendée-if she did waver and wander from expeditions into Flanders to the seizure of West Indian islands, and from menaces to extirpate Jacobinism to missions courting its alliance-will any man pretend to say, that these signs of infirmity of purpose were produced by yielding to the varying impulses of popular opinions, or the alternate preponderance of hostile factions in the state? Is it not notorious, on the contrary, that they all occurred during that lamentable but memorable period, when the alarm excited by the aspect of new dangers had in a manner extinguished the constitutional spirit of party, and composed the salutary conflicts of the nation-that they occurred in the first ten years of Mr. Pitt's war administration, when opposition was almost extinct, and when the government was not only more entirely in the hands of one man than it had been at any time since the days of Cardinal Wolsey, but when the temper and tone of its administration approached very nearly to that of an arbitrary monarchy?

On the doctrine of parties and party dissensions, it is now too late for us to enter at large;-ard indeed when we recollect what Mr. Barke has written upcr that subject, we do not know why we shouin wish for an opportunity of expressing our feeble sentiments. Parties are necessary in all free governments -and are indeed the characteristics by which such governments may be known. One party, that of the Rulers or the Court, is necessarily formed and disciplined from the permanence of its chief, and the uniformity of the interests

• See his "Thoughts on the Cause of the present Discontents." Sub initis-et passim.

less for a crowd of worthy citizens to take the field without leaders or discipline, against a regular army, than for individual patriots to think of opposing the influence of the Sovereign by their separate and uncombined exertions. As to the length which they shoul be permitted to go in support of the common cause, or the extent to which each ought to submit his private opinion to the general sense of his associates, it does not appear to us though casuists may varnish over dishonour, and purists startle at shadows-either that any man of upright feelings can be often at a loss for a rule of conduct, or that, in point of fact, there has ever been any blameable ex cess in the maxims upon which the great par ties of this country have been generally con ducted. The leading principle is, that a mar should satisfy himself that the party to which he attaches himself means well to the country, and that more substantial good will accrue to the nation from its coming into power, than from the success of any other body of men whose success is at all within the limits of probability. Upon this principle, therefore, he will support that party in all things which he approves-in all things that are indifferent - and even in some things which he partly disapproves, provided they neither touch the honour and vital interests of the country, nor imply any breach of the ordinary rules of morality. Upon the same principle he will attack not only all that he individually disapproves in the conduct of the adversary, but all that might appear indifferent and tolerable enough to a neutral spectator, if it afford an opportunity to weaken this adversary in the public opinion, and to increase the chance of bringing that party into power from which alone he sincerely believes that any sure or systematic good is to be expected. Farther than this we do not believe that the leaders or respectable followers of any considerable party, intentionally allow themselves to go. Their zeal, indeed, and the heats and passions engendered in the course of the conflict, may sometimes hurry them into measures for which an impartial spectator cannot find this apology:-but to their own consciences and honour we are persuaded that they generally stand acquitted; and, on the score of duty or morality, that is all that can be required of human beings. For the baser retainers of the party indeed-those marauders who follow in the rear of every army, not for battle but for booty-who concern themselves in no way about the justness of the quarrel, or the fairness of the field - who plunder the dead, and butcher the wounded, and desert the unprosperous, and betray the daring;-for those wretches who truly belong to no party, and are a disgrace and a drawback upon all, we shall assuredly make no apology, nor propose any measures of toleration. The spirit by which they are actuated is the very opposite of that spirit which is generated by the parties of a

the

Ir would be strange indeed, we think, if pages dedicated like cars to topics of present interest, and the discussions of the passing hour, should be ushered into the world at such a moment as this, without some stamp of that common joy and anxious emotion with which the wonderful events of the last three months are still filling all the regions of the earth. In such a situation, it must be difficult for any one who has the means of being heard, to refrain from giving utterance to his sentiments: But to us, whom it has assured, for the first time, of the entire sympathy of all our countrymen, the temptation, we own, is irresistible; and the good-natured part of our readers, we are persuaded, will rather smile at our simplicity, than fret at our presumption, when we add, that we have sometimes permitted ourselves to fancy that, if any copy of these our lucubrations should go down to another generation, it may be thought curious to trace in them the first effects of events that are probably destined to fix the fortune of succeed

A. CHATEAUBRIAND.

many high and anxious speculations. The feelings, we are sure, are in unison with all that exists around us; and we reckon therefore on more than usual indulgence for the speculations into which they may expand.

The first and predominant feeling which rises on contemplating the scenes that have just burst on our view, is that of deep-felt gratitude and delight, -for the liberation of so many oppressed nations, -for the cessation of bloodshed and fear and misery over the fairest portions of the civilised world, and for the enchanting, though still dim and uncertain prospect of long peace and measureless improvement, which seems at last to be opening on the suffering kingdoms of Europe. The very novelty of such a state of things, which could be known only by description to the greater part of the existing generation-the suddenness of its arrival, and the contrast which it forms with the anxieties and alarms to which it has so immediately succeeded, all concur most powerfully to enhance its vast

of a distant posterity. We are still too near that great image of Deliverance and Reform which the Genius of Europe has just set up before us, to discern with certainty its just lineaments, or construe the true character of the Aspect with which it looks onward to futurity! We see enough, however, to fill us with innumerable feelings, and the germs of

• This, I am afraid, will now be thought to be too much of a mere "Song of Triumph;" or, at least, to be conceived throughout in a far more sanguine spirit than is consistent either with a wise observation of passing events, or a philosophical estimate of the frailties of human nature: And, having certainly been written under that prevailing excitement, of which I chiefly wish to preserve it as a memorial, I have no doubt that, to some extent, it

is so. At the same time it should be recollected, that it was written immediately after the first restoration of the Bourbons; and before the startling drama of the Hundred Days, and its grand catastrophe at Waterloo, had dispelled the first wholesome fears of the Allies, or sown the seeds of more bitter ranklings and resentments in the body of the French people: and, above all, that it was so written, before the many lawless invasions of national inde. pendence, and broken promises of Sovereigns to their subjects, which have since revived that distrust, which both nations and philosophers were then, perhaps, too ready to renounce. And after all, I must say, that an attentive reader may find,

even in this strain of good auguries, both such traces of misgivings, and such iteration of anxious warnings, as to save me from the imputation of having merely predicted a Millennium.

freshing sweetness with which it has visited the earth, feels like Elysium to those who have just escaped from the driving tempests it has banished.

We have reason to hope, too, that the riches of the harvest will correspond with the splendour of this early promise. All the periods in which human society and human intellect have been known to make great and memorable advances, have followed close upon periods of general agitation and disorder. Men's minds, it would appear, must be deeply and roughly stirred, before they become prolific of great conceptions, or vigorous resolves; and a vast and alarming fermentation must pervade and agitate the mass of society, to inform it with that kindly warmth, by which alone the seeds of genius and improvement can be expanded. The fact, at all events, is abundantly certain; and may be accounted for, we conceive, without mystery, and without metaphors.

A popular revolution in government or religion-or any thing else that gives rise to general and long-continued contention, naturally produces a prevailing disdain of authority, and boldness of thinking in the leaders of the fray, -together with a kindling of the imagination and development of intellect in a great multitude of persons, who, in ordinary times, would have vegetated stupidly in the places where fortune had fixed them. Power and distinction, and all the higher prizes in the lottery of life, are then brought within the reach of a larger proportion of the community; and that vivifying spirit of ambition, which is the true source of all improvement, instead of burning at a few detached points on the summit of society, now pervades every portion of its frame. Much extravagance, and, in all probability, much guilt and much misery, result, in the first instance, from this sudden extrication of talent and enterprise, in places where they can as yet have no legitimate issue, or points of application. But the contending elements at last find their spheres, and their balance. The disorder ceases; but the activity remains. The multitudes that had been raised into intellectual existence by dangerous passions and crazy illusions, do not all relapse into their original torpor, when their passions are allayed and their illusions dispelled. There is a great permanent addition to the power and the enterprise of the community; and the talent and the activity which at first convulsed the state by their unmeasured and misdirected exertions, ultimately bless and adorn it, under a more enlightened and less intemperate guidance. If we may estimate the amount of this ultimate good by that of the disorder which preceded it, we cannot be too sanguine in our calculations of the happiness that awaits the rising generation. The fermentation, it will readily be admitted, has been long and violent enough to extract all the virtue of all the ingredients that have been submitted to its action; and enough of scum has boiled over, and enough af pestilent vapour been exhaled, to afford a reasonable assurance that the residuum will be both ample and pure.

If this delight in the spectacle and the prospect of boundless good, be the first feeling that is excited by the scene before us, the second, we do not hesitate to say, is a stern and vindictive joy at the downfal of the Tyrant and the tyranny by whom that good had been 80 long intercepted. We feel no compassion for that man's reverses of fortune, whose heart, in the days of his prosperity, was steeled against that, or any other humanising emotion. He has fallen, substantially, without the pity, as he rose without the love, of any portion of mankind; and the admiration which was excited by his talents and activity and success, having no solid stay in the magnanimity or generosity of his character, has been turned, perhaps rather too eagerly, into scorn and derision, now that he is deserted by fortune, and appears without extraordinary resources in the day of his calamity. We do not think that an ambitious despot and sanguinary conqueror can be too much execrated, Br too little respected by mankind; but the popular clamour, at this moment, seems to us to be carried too far, even against this very dangerous individual. It is now discovered, it seems, that he has neither genius nor common sense; and he is accused of cowardice for not killing himself, by the very persons who would infallibly have exclaimed against his suicide, as a clear proof of weakness and

folly. History, we think, will not class him quite so low as the English newspapers of the present day. He is a creature to be dreaded and condemned, but not, assuredly, to be despised by men of ordinary dimensions. His catastrophe, so far as it is yet visible, seems unsuitable indeed, and incongruous with the part he has hitherto sustained; but we have perceived nothing in it materially to alter the estimate which we formed long ago of his character. He still seems to us a man of consummate conduct, valour, and decision in war, but without the virtues, or even the generous or social vices of a soldier of fortune; of matchless activity indeed, and boundless ambition, but entirely without principle, feeling, or affection; -suspicious, vindictive, and overbearing;-selfish and solitary in all his pursuits and gratifications; -proud and overweening, to the very borders of insanity;and considering at last the laws of honour and the principles of morality, equally beneath his notice with the interests and feelings of other men. -Despising those who submitted to his pretensions, and pursuing, with implacable hatred, all who presumed to resist them, he seems to have gone on in a growing confidence in his own fortune, and contempt for mankind, -till a serious check from without showed him the error of his calculation, and betrayed the fatal insecurity of a career which reckoned only on prosperity.

Over the downfal of such a man, it is fitting that the world should rejoice; and his downfal, and the circumstances with which it has been attended, seem to us to hold out three several grounds of rejoicing.

In the first place, we think it has established for ever the impracticability of any scheme of universal dominion; and proved, that Europe possesses sufficient means to maintain and assert the independence of her several states, in despite of any power that can be brought against them. It might formerly have been doubted, and many minds of no abject cast were depressed with more than doubts on the subject,-whether the undivided sway which Rome exercised of old, by means of superior skill and discipline, might not be revived in modern times by arrangement, activity, and intimidation, and whether, in spite of the boasted intelligence of Europe at the present day, the read ready communication between all its parts, and the supposed weight of its public opinion, the sovereign of one er two great kingdoms might not subdue all the rest, by rapidity of movement and decision of conduct, and retain them in subjection by a strict system of disarming and espionageby a constant interchange of armies and sta tions-and, in short, by a dexterous and alert use of those very means, of extensive intelligence and communication, which their civilisation seemed at first to hold out as their surest protection. The experiment, however, has now been tried; and the result is, that the nations of Europe can never be brought under the rule of one conquering sovereign. No individual, it may be fairly presumed, will ever try that fatal experiment again, with so mary extraordinary advantages, and chances of success, as he in whose hands it has now inally miscarried. The different states, it is to be hoped, will never again be found so shamefully unprovided for defence-so long insensible to their danger-and, let us not scruple at last to speak the truth, so little worthy of being saved-as most of them were at the beginning of that awful period; while there is still less chance of any military sovereign again finding himself invested with the absolute disposal of so vast a population, at once habituated to war and victory by the energies of a popular revolution, and disposed to submit to any hardships and privations for a ruler who would protect them from a recurrence of revolutionary horrors. That ruler, however, and that population, reinforced by immense drafts from the countries he had already overrun, has now been fairly beaten down by the other nations of Europe - at length cordially united by a sense of their common danger. Henceforward, therefore, they show their strength, and the means and occasions of bringing it into action; and the very notoriety of that strength, and of the scenes on which it has been proved, will in all probability prevent the recurrence of any necessity for proving it again.

- and by new aggressions, and the menace of more intolerable evils, drove them into that league which rolled back the tide of ruin on himself, and ultimately hurled him into the insignificance from which he originally sprung.

It is for this reason, chiefly, that we join in the feeling, which we think universal in this country, of joy and satisfaction at the utter destruction of this victim of Ambition, and at the failure of those negotiations, which would have left him, though humbled, in possession of a sovereign state, and of great actual power and authority. We say nothing at present of the policy or the necessity, that may have dictated those propositions; but the actual result is far more satisfactory, than any condition of their acceptance. Without this, the lesson to Ambition would have been imperfect, and the retribution of Eternal Justice apparently incomplete. It was fitting, that the world should see it again demonstrated, by this great example, that the appetite of conquest is in its own nature insatiable;and that a being, once abandoned to that bloody career, is fated to pursue it to the end; and must persist in the work of desolation and murder, till the accumulated wrongs and resentments of the harassed world sweep him from its face. The knowledge of this may deter some dangerous spirits from entering on a course, which will infallibly bear them on to destruction;-and at all events should induce the sufferers to cut short the measure of its errors and miseries, by accomplishing their doom at the beginning. Sanguinary conquerors, we do not hesitate to say, should be devoted by a perpetual proscription, in mercy to the rest of the world.

and he possessed more, as to actual power, influence, and authority, than any individual that ever figured on the scene of European story. He had visited, with a victorious army, almost every capital of the Continent; and

even the derision, which it has so opportunely thrown upon the character of conquerors in general. The thinking part of mankind did not perhaps need to be disabused upon this subject;-but no illusion was ever so strong,

himself with the government of almost all that was left. He had cast down and erected thrones at his pleasure; and surrounded himself with tributary kings, and principalities of his own creation. He had connected himself by marriage with the proudest of the ancient sovereigns; and was at the head of the largest and the finest army that was ever assembled to desolate or dispose of the world. Had he known where to stop in his aggres sions upon the peace and independence of mankind, it seems as if this terrific sovereignty might have been permanently established in his person. But the demon by whom he was possessed urged him on to his fate. He could not bear that any power should exist which did not confess its dependence on him. Without a pretext for quarrel, he atracked Russia-insulted Austria-trod contemptuously on the fallen fortunes of Prussia

1

submission of inferior natures. It is above all things fortunate, therefore, when this spell can be broken, by merely reversing the operation by which it had been imposed; when the idols that success had tricked out in the mock attributes of divinity, are stripped of their disguise by the rough hand of misfortune, and exhibited before the indignant and wondering eyes of their admirers, in the naked littleness of humbled and helpless men, depending, for life and subsistence, on the pity of their human conquerors, and spared with safety, in consequence of their insignificance. Such an exhibition, we would fain hope, will rescue men for ever from that most humiliating devotion, which has hitherto so often tempted the ambition, and facilitated the progress of conquerors. It is not in our days, at least, that it will be forgotten, that Bonaparte turned out a mere mortal in the end; and ne her in our