themselves the heralds of their retreat, and of their submission to the new order of things. Napoleon came through the gate of the Tuilleries, opposite the Pont royal, and alighted at the palace at eleven o'clock-a crowd of officers rushed upon him— in an instant he was carried off his legs-his hat fell off, and he was borne upon the shoulders of the eager multitude up the great staircase into his apartments, where he was welcomed by some ladies of his former court; one of whom, the most beautiful of the party, in a transport of delight, threw her arms round his neck, and burst into tears. From Cannes to Paris is a computed march of forty-five days. The old guard, who left Essonne at two on the morning of the 21st, and arrived early enough for the review of the same day, were not half that time on their journey. It is a piece of common-place, but very true, to say, that history furnishes no example of a similar journey performed by any armed force, either in ancient or modern times. The Elbese battalion of the guard were individually rewarded with the cross of the legion of honour, which is by no means an insignificant distinction, as it confers on the lowest class a pension of more than two hundred francs, and entitles the bearer to the presentation of arms by every sentinel. The feeling with which this last honour is given and received, is no less gratifying to the man that pays, than to him who obtains the notice. The private soldier finds himself honoured in the attention shown to one of his own rank, distinguished only by a merit which he himself may with justice hope to emulate. He is, therefore, the more anxious to preserve every form and punctuality in this mark of deference, which his comrade, as it comes from an equal, is anxious to receive with proportionate respect. The mutual pride of the soldier-knight and the soldier-sentinel gives rise to a sentiment of self-respect, the diffusion of which is alone sufficient to discipline an army; and of what service this institution has proved in the corps to which it has been most particularly applied, may be seen by the confession of the Abbé Montesquiou, from whom, in his speech to the chamber of deputies on the 14th, was wrung the flattering confession, that, "during ten months of peace, in the corps of the old guard quartered at Metz, amounting to five thousand men, not a single officer or soldier had been reprimanded even once." Yet this guard, "which reserved to itself the glory of being the model and the example of armies," is now condemned as a body of traitors, without one atom of honourable motive to exempt them from universal abhorrence and disgust. It is impossible to deny that the king's troops violated their oaths to Louis, as the English army on Hounslow Heath did to James; but this

violation is of a nature that leaves its final denomination to be determined by events, which alone will shew whether their defection from the faith is to be styled a heresy or a reformation. An Englishman may not suspect that Marshal Ney furnishes a parallel that may turn out complete, if Napoleon succeeds, with the hero of Blenheim-with his own Marlborough, all of whose victories were not together so serviceable to his country as the single action, for which, in other circumstances, he would have suffered infamy and death-the desertion of his patron and his king. You may be assured, that the conduct of General Churchill, and the army, and the people of England, was not for some years found out to have been expedient, and just, and glorious; but was characterized in terms of reprobation similar to those of which we are now so liberal, when speaking of our cotemporaries on this side of the channel. Indeed, the portrait formerly drawn of a certain Christian nation by the hand of a master, so exactly tallies with that which we and our worthy allies attach to Frenchmen at this moment, that I venture to hint, that we may, without any prejudice to our honourable feelings, entertain some doubt of the infallibility and justice of those who desig nate the readoption of the Emperor by the troops and the people as an example of perjury and treason, altogether unparalleled, and too base to be justified upon any principle of expediency. You see, in what follows, as much horror at perjury, treachery, oath-breaking, and treason, as could be found in a letter of Lord Castlereagh's, or of our gracious Regent's to King Louis. "As you have experience to know your subjects, so I know them by their character, and do believe them to be a people of no faith, no honour, and no honesty, whom no promise can oblige, nor oath can bind. They have sworn allegiance to you, and since accepted of ************* for their king, and swear allegiance to him. How this swearing to both can be reconciled I cannot understand: but let them swear what they will, I should not believe them, nor put any more value upon their oath than they do themselves, which is nothing at all. Neither do I understand how you can be assured of them that have no other assurance to give you of their future fidelity but their oaths, which are worth as much now as when they broke with your majesty last. It is out of my reach to put any trust in such people, neither would I have you confide in them; for I doubt much of their integrity."*

And who, think you, are thus described? Why, our English ancestors of that period, which to our eyes is the most glorious

* See A short and true Relation of Intrigues transacted both at home and abroad, to restore the late King James. Lord Somers's Tracts, vol. xi. p. 100.

of our history. It is true that his majesty, the most Christian King, at whose charge the said nation were to be punished for their patriotic fault, had some little right to abuse them to his brother James, who had no great reason to be pleased with the direction taken by English honour; and the ministry of our times being determined to undertake a similar duty, may indulge in similar strains. Let them! but let not you and me, who are averse to their unjust interference, join in their unreasonable clamour.

We should consider, besides, that the renewal of the oath by the Parisian army is not so much to be charged to their treachery, as to the last struggles and manœuvres of the falling dynasty. There was no middle conduct for them to pursue, between an accession to the proposed oath, and an open resistance and violence perhaps to the persons of the Bourbon princes, which, as the utmost care was taken to deceive the capital as to the real strength of the invading Emperor, was not to be expected, and surely will not be regretted. The assurances of devotion transmitted from the departmental posts were the work of the royalist officers lately enrolled, and if they did not remain faithful, the disgrace is with them, if even they are not to be excused upon the universal revolt of the soldiery, which in some measure released them from their oaths. There are circumstances under which the obligation of an oath, military or civil, ceases at once; and when that expressed or implied consent of a people to submit to authority, in conformity to which alone any oath can be taken, is clearly withdrawn, not only is that oath, however recent in its date, or solemn in its form and nature, necessarily annulled, but fidelity to our king becomes treason to our country. Without meaning to say that there is an exact parity in the adventures of Napoleon and William the Third, I do assert that the present outcry against the troops, who have rather recovered than deserted their standards, by ranging themselves under the imperial eagles, and again displaying the tri-coloured cockade, would come with better grace and propriety from any other nation than from the one which is now enjoying all the benefits that can result from the desertion of a despot.

Before I close this letter I cannot help mentioning, that Napoleon, notwithstanding the fatigues of his late journey, to which some repose might have been granted, did not retire to rest until midnight, and was transacting business by four o'clock the next morning. At one in the afternoon of the 21st he reviewed the army of Paris and the guard of Elba. From the time of his arrival he has never laboured less than fifteen hours a day. His

I

frame of adamant alone could support the incessant toil of body and mind of this extraordinary mortal, who, when fatigued, was accustomed at Elba (so Captain

reports) to ride hard

for three or four hours pour se delasser-to refresh himself.

Note 1.-The reader may add to the above remarks on the comparison between the landing at Torbay and at Cannes, that if some circumstances are more favourable to William than to Napoleon, there are others which tend to the preference of the latter exploit. The expedition of the Prince of Orange was not entirely English: that of the Emperor was exclusively French, both in its design and execution. The parallel between Ney and Churchill is altogether to the advantage of the former, inasmuch as the English general deserted from his patron, benefactor, and friend, but the French marshal to his protector, benefactor, and former chief.

Note 3-Some English travellers visited Napoleon's palace at Elba soon after his departure, and found his establishment, his library, his apartment, and his furniture, exactly in the state he had left them. His old housekeeper, who had followed him through all his vicissitudes of fortune, was in the greatest distress, not about herself, but for his safety and success. Her unaffected ex

pressions of attachment, and artless report of his uniform good humour, were better refutations of the hideous pictures drawn of his domestic manners, than volumes written by the flatterers who so long attended and disgraced his court. His library was strewn with written papers torn into small bits, and on the table was lying open a life of Charles V., which he had been reading the night before he embarked.

LETTER VIII.

Paris, April

THE utmost celerity, courage, and address on one side, might, perhaps, have failed to bring about the late events, had there not been an excess of delay, imbecility, and weakness on the other. It was not until the 5th of March that the debarkation of Napoleon was known at the Tuilleries; and it was then judged expedient to circulate that the king was indisposed, instead of informing the capital of this strange fact, which was not announced until the 7th, when the Moniteur contained the convocation of the chambers, and an ordonnance of the king, proclaiming Napoleon and his adherents traitors. The Moniteur of the next day gave a telegraphic dispatch, and a few details relative to the landing at Cannes: and General Desolles made an appeal to the national guard. Whether the royal family were themselves deceived, or merely thought it politic to conceal the extent of their apprehensions, is uncertain; but every official report relative to the advance of Napoleon was garbled or kept back to the latest moment. The bulletin in the Moniteur of the 9th gave an account of the advance to Grasse, but said that Napoleon's soldiers were selling their cartridges, and that the best spirit reigned every where. The Duke of Dalmatia published an address to the army. Sixty-nine deputies met on the 8th, and addressed the king the next day. The peers met on the 9th, and also addressed his majesty. Some of the court, however, at once foresaw the consequence of the landing, as if conscious of the apathy of the people and their disinclination to the royal throne. The Duke of, meeting a friend of mine the day the news was published, exclaimed-Mon ami, tout est perdu !* Yet such was the infatuation of others, that, at the Thursday's court, when the intelligence had reached Paris that Napoleon was at Lyons, the pleasantry of the day was, that as the monster would certainly be caught and caged, it might create some embarrassment to know where to confine him, unless he were domiciliated amongst his brother beasts in the Garden of Plants. The garrison of Paris and the national guards were reviewed by the Duke of Berri and the King on the 9th, and various addresses began to appear in the Moniteur. Marshal Moncey made an appeal to the gens d'armes of the kingdom. In the

My friend, all is lost!