marching rapidly on their return to their respective countries, to be disbanded, when the French nation, freed from the fear which their presence inspired, and satisfied with the novelty of the scene, which is no small object in the calculation of most of the inhabitants of France, than they began to speak out, and the same overbearing spirit of domineering tyranny began to shew itself in unequivocal terms. So long as the allied Sovereigns remained in France, and as long as the shows and rejoicings for the return of the King lasted, so long the Parisians remained perfectly satisfied, and thought of nothing else. But no sooner had they withdrawn, and the dancing, singing, and swearing, attendant upon the formation of a new Constitution, was gone, than they became dissatisfied for want of some bustle and confusion to occupy their minds. During the reign of tyranny, anarchy, republicanism, and that of Bonaparte, the people of France were never without some magnificent and important spectacle, with which to gratify their curiosity, their thoughtlessness, and their vanity. Some of these were, indeed, not of the most pleasant kind; but while such continued to be the rage, and "the order of the day," they served to engross their attention as much as any other. But, with the return of the King, all these were gone. For some time no open machinations, plots, nor conspiracies agitated the capital, and threatened it with pillage and blood-no bustle of drawing conscriptions, the march of vast armies, with all their weapons of destruction, to attack defenceless nations; and no accounts of brilliant victories and vast contributions gladdened their souls, and occupied their time. All were fled; and even Sunday was, in some degree, become, under the government of the King, a day of repose. Under a system and state so totally different from what they had been accustomed to, France became discontented at they knew not what. A few months of peace disgusted them with their situation. They could not betake themselves to any peaceful and industrious mode of life. They wanted war, and cared very little who was their Sovereign, providing he would indulge them in that propensity. The King, and his government, however, leaned to peace. Therefore was he despised; not because he was Louis XVIII. and

violating the constitution; but because he was not like Bona→ parte, who never troubled his head about the constitution of France, but who occupied their attention in making and unmaking constitutions for their neighbours, while he gave them none at all for themselves. Yet this kind of employment completely absorbed their thoughts, and occupied their time, and pleased them better than if they had been attending to their own.

The government of Louis XVIII. under these circumstances, soon began to be looked upon with indifference, and he to be accused of neglecting the honour and the glory of the nation. A parcel of idle douaniers, intendants, and inspectors, and other reptiles of that class, who had been driven from their pleasant employment of plundering foreign countries, joined the disbanded military in their cry against the government, and their desire of revenge upon the nations of Europe. The capture of their capital-the violation of their sacred territory, wounded their pride. To lessen the stain, however, the army openly imputed all this to the treachery of some of the leading officers, and members of government, to their late Emperor. They cherished this idea till they believed that this alone was the cause of their discomfiture; and, under this impression, they were anxious again to rush into combat against the nations of Europe. The friends of Bonaparte fanned this dangerous flame of vanity and discontent; and, under the mask of supporting the national glory and invincibility of France, two things which completely run away with the understandings of Frenchmen, they succeeded in blinding the eyes of the government to their real views. The old Jacobinical party, who were accustomed to have a constitution annually, and who conceived the present had lasted long enough, now raised the cry that it was in danger; that the King had violated his word to the nation, and that he intended to erect a despotic government, Never since the cruel epoch of 1793, did the provinces of France present a more revolutionary aspect than they did at this moment. Never did the multitude, the eternal sport of factions, the sanguinary instruments of all the chiefs of revolt and anarchy, display a more eager disposition to insurrection and vioence. Never was the poison of calumny infused with greater

care, or the fire of discord fed with more zeal and perseverance. It would be impossible to tell to what extent the detestable agents of Imperial tyranny had succeeded, in corrupting and perverting, and poisoning the public mind. All the artifices of tumult and discord, were set in motion by those who, for the last twenty-five years, united in alliance, engaged in conspiracies and revolt, had never surrendered the hope of re-inflicting upon that unhappy country the scourges of revolution. Every city, every town, had its committee charged with the of fice of calumniating the government, and of spreading among the people alarms, fitted to excite insurrection. They never ceased to terrify the nation with the re-establishment of seignorial rights, and all the evils of feudal servitude. They point ed out in every priest, in every noble, in every citizen of higher rank, an irreconcileable enemy. In vain the edicts of the King, his paternal bounty, and all the acts of his government, gave the lie to these impostures. Advantage was taken of imprudent writings, in the public prints, against those who had acquired national property, and the indiscreet conversations of some bigotted votaries of the old regime, to kindle a flame in the public mind. But these things were not the work of the King's followers. In France they have a system, different from all the rest of mankind, either in good or evil. When affecting to be your friend, they are your greatest enemy; and under that mask they do the greatest injury. Most of these writings we have alluded to, were the works of the Jacobins, who apparently became royalists, or had connexion with those that appeared so, that they might thus publish these writings and conversations, as if done by the King's immediate friends, in order that these things might spread more rapidly, and more deeply inflame the public mind. These were more dangerous enemies than even the stern opponents of the King, who despised him; but yet, confident of their own strength, disdained to assume another character, under which they might the more effectually annoy him. Foremost in the ranks of those dangerous and open declaimers was Carnot, one of those turbulent and inflexible characters produced by the revolution, whom no experience could convince of error, nor misfortunes,

nor failures, drive him from his visionary schemes. To this man, France and Europe owes almost all, if not all, the miseries and horrors of the last twenty-five years. Intent upon trying his theories in France, and of establishing what he called liberty, before the nation was fit to enjoy it, or could perceive what it meant, he succeeded in overthrowing the Royal Government and the ameliorated constitution of France; and under the pretence of preserving that established in its place from the attacks of foreigners, he procured a general rising amongst the French people, whose energies he quickly turned to the more desirable object of foreign conquest. Secure, as he thought, in his Golden system of Liberty and Equality, he never reflected that liberty cannot exist in a nation purely military; and he soon perceived, whatever were his intentions, that what he had done, was the road, in the first place, to the most hideous anarchy, and next, to the most dreadful despotism. To him, therefore, more than any one else, is France and Europe indebted for the miseries which they have endured. He has been characterised and eulogised as the upright and uncorrupted friend of liberty. It may be that he is so-what his real intentions are, mankind cannot judge; but the consequences of his actions and his conduct they can appreciate and understand. It can never be forgotten that it was him that established the Conscription laws in France, whose consequences have been fatal to France and to Europe. He planned the early wars of French aggression; he organised the regular system of French plunder, by their armies, in the conquered countries; and he was minister at war when all these horrible scenes of shooting, drowning, and massacring the loyalists was carried on in France, by the French army, whose chiefs he appointed, and whose orders they all were bound to obey. Of his so much talked of consistency we shall by and by have occasion to speak at greater length. Here, it may be sufficient to observe, that he fought for liberty, supported Bonaparte, abetted treason-but all for the honour of France.

This man, with his desperate adherents, still too numerous in that country, and who had risen to rank, wealth, and notice, from their implacable animosity to the legitimate Sovereign of

France, could not be easy to see a brother of that Sovereignt which he was one of the principal instruments in bringing to the scaffold, most justly called by the French nation, and the unanimous voice of Europe, to the throne of France. It filled him and them with rage and anguish. They wanted a change, whatever the consequences might be. Under a legitimate King and a peaceable government, these men sunk into contempt and insignificance. This they could not bear. With all their professions about liberty, they were the most merciless despots that ever lived. They could brook no rival in their sway. A change, therefore, they were resolved on. But how to accomplish it was another question. They dreaded the army, because they were the blind instruments of Bonaparte's despotism. Yet, without its assistance, they were aware they could do nothing. The army hated them, at least its leaders did; but both were discontented with the present state of affairs; and each, to accomplish his own ends, resolved to coalesce with the other. The military leaders were aware that the Bourbons had many friends in France. They perceived, that without the assistance of a powerful party, possessing property, they could never attempt to overawe them, and re-organize a military system, which should again trample upon Europe. The old republican party, however, they were well aware, were both numerous and wealthy. Two-thirds of the land in France was, perhaps, in their possession. All the lands which formerly belonged to the church, the ancient domains of the Crown, and the vast and extensive estates of the old French nobility, and other wealthy individuals in France, had been seized, sold, or divided, and were now occupied by an infinite number of small settlers, formerly servants and vassals upon these domains, whose interest it was to preserve these properties, and for which purpose they were likely to exert themselves to the utmost to keep down civil commotions, in which they might have lost these properties, or their lives; thereby, as the military calculated, leaving the energies of France under their control, to be turned once more against the liberties of Europe. Many of these proprietors, however, though they could have no affection for the Bourbons, yet had just as little for the other dynasty, and only wanted to

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