scattered through the universe: but at least her celestial influence will not abandon us; it has overspread her long blinded country. Through her, the last great victim, was smitten with a mortal lethargy that barbarous Assembly, which did not govern, but which sullied, France. After her death, the Assembly stopped, not tired but exhausted of guilt. The stillness of satiety was for it a retrograde path; it seemed to be crawling on bones out of blood. Itself without repentance or remorse, it feared the repentance and remorse of the people. Forced to bend to circumstances, which were the creation of its terrors, it began to perceive that obedience to necessity might be distinct from the progress of the Revolution. This feeling was bequeathed to the Directory, which was itself overturned by a breath. The lonely colossal power, which succeeded, has yielded to an unexampled coalition, less through fear of its arms, than because it has been quelled by the ascendancy of its loyal and beneficent generosity.

No doubt it was to the prayer of Elizabeth that thou, great God, hast granted these miracles. Grant, moreover, to her holy intercession, that of an entire, perfect, unalterable re-union of hearts. In her name, may all hatred be extinguished, every injury be forgotten, and every faction vanish; and may every man bring, as his first offering to the shrine of Elizabeth, the sacrifice of his hostility, and the pardon of his wrongs! Diffuse, thou holy One, over all France, a spirit of religion, of concord, and of peace, and continue it among those powers who are our deliverers. Bid the sun enlighten only wise governments and submissive nations; and may the name of Elizabeth, engraven in every heart, be invoked as the model of the great, the protectress of the feeble, the consolation of the unhappy, and the hope of all !'

To the biography, which is divided into three parts, are attached various historical notes; and a collection of the letters of Mad. Elizabeth is appended. They are more remarkable for piety than elegance; for the grace which passeth all understanding, than for that which is its highest accomplishment.

ART. V. Tableau Historique et Politique &c.; i.e. An Historical and Political Account of France under the first three Dynasties, to the Beginning of the Reign of Louis XIV. By M. DE LA CROIX, Author of the "Constitutions of the Principal States of Europe,' and other Works. 8vo. 3 Vols. pp. 1382. Paris. 1814.

M. DE LA CROIX is a veteran among French literati, having been known as an author before the Revolution, and particularly as the writer of Le Spectateur Français, a work partly antecedent to and partly coincident with that great political convulsion. He composed, likewise, in 1787, an essay of considerable length, " On the Means of regenerating France," and followed that work by a series of "Moral Reflections on public

and private Offences." He now comes forwards with ardent effusions of loyalty, and dedicates his book to Louis XVIII. After an appeal, in his epitre dédicatoire, to various proofs of manful resistance on his part to the fury of the Revolution, he proceeds in his introduction to make some general observations on the manner of writing the history of France; and he hopes that his work will be found to possess more connection in point of narrative, and more clearness in explaining the causes of political occurrences, than most of those which have preceded it. My object,' he says, has been to indicate the true causes of our dissensions and distress; to expose the faults of our ancestors; and to apportion praise and blame with the utmost possible impartiality.'

The introduction to a French book, or discours préliminaire, is seldom a plain statement of the nature of the work, but rather a high-flown effusion on the difficulty of the task and the purity of the author's views, accompanied by some popular observations on recent occurrences in the political world; so that those readers, who are prepared to value a production according to the modesty of its announcement, will generally receive an unfavourable impression from these vain and artificial preambles. A feeling of that kind will naturally be suggested on the present occasion; yet, though the work is in some respects of a nature to confirm the ungracious impression, in others it is superior to the ordinary character of the compilations which issue from the French press. The style is both animated and elegant; and the author has found means to exhibit as clear a picture of passing events as the limited extent of his plan would admit. We propose to give a few specimens of his mode of composition.

Battle of Crécy. We were curious to see in what manner a French writer would choose to speak of actions so humiliating to the national vanity as those of Crêcy and Poitiers; and we admit that M. DE LA CROIX's narrative is not much tinctured with the spirit of partiality.

Philip of Valois was by no means unequal to Edward III. in point of courage, but greatly inferior to him in prudence and tactical skill. Seeing the English monarch retire before the host brought against him, he had no other idea than to overtake him, which he accomplished at Crêcy, but with troops so fatigued by a forced march that they were by no means in a fit state to stand an action. If vindictive rage had not blinded his judgment, he would have made his army take rest; have awaited the arrival of the corps marching to join him from Normandy; and have avoided an encounter with his opponent until he had acquired a knowlege of his order of battle. Edward had passed the Somme when Philip arrived on its banks; and the latter was forced by the state of the tide to proceed Hh 3

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up the river and cross at Abbeville. Next morning he advanced against the English, having to march a distance of eight miles before he could reach them. His van-guard was commanded by his brother, the Duke of Alençon; and it is said that Philip, on hearing that the English occupied an entrenched position, wished his brother to delay the attack until the troops should be properly drawn up, but the rashness of the young Prince led to an immediate encounter, attended at first with some success to the French, but soon taking a different turn. This battle cost the lives of more than 30,000 Frenchmen; among whom Philip had the misfortune to reckon his gallant brother, and the most illustrious of his nobility. He was himself on the point of losing his life in the field, and it was necessary to use a kind of violence to preserve him from falling into the hands of the victors. His horse having been killed under him, the Count of Hainault remounted him on the horse of a knight: but Philip, though wounded in two places, continued in the field until the Count, seeing that intreaty was fruitless, laid hold of the bridle of his horse, and led him off the ground. As if it had not been sufficiently cruel to witness the death or captivity of his gallant comrades, Philip had the mortification of hearing that the different corps, which had advanced with rapid steps to join him, were surprised and cut in pieces.'

Battle of Poitiers, in 1356.- The Prince of Wales, whose character gave England the hope of a king superior to his father, appeared in the south of France with an army which his skill and bravery seemed to render invincible. He advanced through the country with great rapidity, scarcely a fortified town withstanding him beyond a few days. It is in this expedition, and particularly at the siege of Romorantin, that we have the first authentic accounts of the use of artillery. Villani is the only writer who mentions that the English had begun to employ this fatal machinery so early as the battle of Crêcy. It was for a long time repugnant to the chivalrous ideas of that age to direct cannon against men, and they were used chiefly against fortifications. The French King, (John,) on hearing of the rapid advance of the English warrior, quitted Normandy, where he had obtained some success against the Duke of Lancaster, and exerted himself to stop the progress of his new enemy. The flower of the nobility and of the troops accompanied him, and the royal standard was soon hoisted under the walls of Poitiers. The French army was so superior in number to that of the Prince of Wales as to entertain no doubt of victory, and to refuse to listen to the most humble offers: the English Prince, seeing himself about to be attacked on all sides, having proposed to withdraw from the country which he had over-run, and even to form an engagement not to carry arms against France for several years. Though his demands amounted to little except the permission of retiring without annoyance, his mo⚫deration was accounted a sign of weakness, and impressed the French with such a certainty of their success that they insisted on nothing less than his surrender as a prisoner. The Prince of Wales had made the most diligent use of the interval passed in negociation, and had fortified his camp; and he now prepared for action, although he

had

had scarcely ten thousand men to oppose to sixty thousand. What an honour for him if successful! and what reproach to the enemy if they are vanquished! I cannot prevail on myself to detail the particulars of an event so mortifying to the heart of a Frenchman; and I should wish to be able to efface from our history a defeat so disgraceful to our arms, and so disastrous to our country. From the time of the first assault, the King was abandoned by two divisions of his army, one commanded by the heir of the crown, the other by the Duke of Orleans, the King's brother. Still, John continued to fight at the head of the third division, with a courage which proved him worthy of a better fate. Unhappily, the strength of the army did not lie in the arms of its leader, nor were the blows which he dealt around destined to decide the success of the day. The opponents whom he overthrew were soon succeeded by others fighting with still greater fury; and who, seeing him exhausted and covered with wounds, reduced him to the mortifying necessity of falling into the hands of his conqueror. How shall we attempt to describe the emotions of a king of France, on seeing himself disarmed and captive in the Prince of Wales's tent! Beside him was his youngest son, a youth of thirteen, who had never quitted his father during the hottest of the action. The King found himself captive in the heart of his country, and without hope of a deliverance. No army now remained to come forwards to preserve him from the distress of captivity. Could any thing assuage the bitterness of this draught, it would be the respectful manner in which his young conqueror treated him. The Prince loudly extolled the valour of the monarch, and assured him that he would be received by Edward with all the distinction due to his, illustrious rank. He ordered every refreshment to be brought to him, refused to sit down when in the presence of the unfortunate descendant of St. Louis, and even carried his delicacy so far as to be ready to attend and to serve him.'

Our next specimen will consist of a comparison of the characters of the two sovereigns who divided the attention of Europe during the early part of the sixteenth century.

Parallel between Charles V. and Francis I. Both monarchs were brave, ambitious, and mutually jealous: but the means by which they aimed at surpassing each other were different. The one seemed to put all his confidence in his valour; the other judged it necessary to have recourse to policy. Francis wished only to see his antagonist, to advance, and to fight him; Charles, without fearing his opponent, knew how to elude his impetuosity, and exerted himself to ward off his blows, to exhaust his courage, and to profit by the decline of his strength. Far inferior in generosity to Francis, he made use of his advantages for the purpose of stripping and overpowering him, chaining him down by oaths and by hostages, because he had in himself no adequate impression of the power of honourable feeling. Francis, on the other hand, possessed a high sense of sonal dignity, and his word was more deserving of reliance than the written obligation of his rival. Francis was too often led astray by his passions; Charles could triumph even over his pride when his in

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terest called for it. The former, in his projects, saw only the present moment; the latter cast a watchful and anxious look on the future. Francis could gain battles and provinces; Charles joined to skill in offensive warfare that prudence which alone can preserve a conquest. Francis sacrificed his own treasures as well as those of his subjects; while Charles delayed to touch his own, so long as he could extract any thing from the vanquished or from his allies. The former may be charged with a number of faults, and the latter with much injustice. As to matters of religion, the conduct of the one was blinded by error, and that of the other was guided by hypocrisy. Francis will always be a hero in the eye of ladies and chivalrous knights; while Charles will be deemed his superior by those who judge of the merit of our actions by their

success.'

A style like that of M. DE LA CROIX appears to considerable advantage in drawing parallels; its brevity and clearness leaving his readers at no loss to comprehend and feel the full force of his observations. As nothing is more instructive than such contrasts when drawn with an unprejudiced pen, we shall se⚫lect another of them for our final extract; premising that the feeling of national predilection, which has tinged the colouring in the case of Charles and Francis, can have no application in a parallel between two ministers who were both natives of France.

Parallel between Sully and Richelieu. Seldom has a more striking contrast occurred in the interval of a single reign, than that which prevailed between Sully and Richelieu. The former, modest, virtuous, and frugal, was occupied only with the care of rendering his master dear to his subjects, and enriched the royal treasury less by the operation of taxes than by the influence of economical reforms. To make a figure in the eye of the world was with him a secondary, I might almost say, an insignificant consideration; the approbation of his own mind and the affection of Henry constituting his grand recompence. If he shewed indulgence to the foibles of his master, he discovered a keen sense of such faults as were likely to affect the royal dignity. The King stood in need of the zeal of his minister, and the minister could not exist without the friendship of his King. To see and to hear them, we should have said that they were alternately prince and subject; the laurels of Henry appearing to shadow the forehead of Sully, while the virtue of the minister reflected its splendour on the prince. How different was the relative situation of Louis XIII. and Richelieu! This minister seemed to raise himself above his master as on a pedestal, for the sake of extending his sway all around. He absorbed in himself all the power and glory of the royal station; sacrificing the interests of the people to his vast projects, and feeling very little solicitude for the welfare of the present generation, provided that he could appear great in the eyes of posterity. His wish was to be not merely respected and obeyed, but feared; so that, when a subject of whatever rank ventured to coun

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