em; we urged her to hold a court in at Kensington, unless she were perold her drawing-rooms at St. James's. followed our advice, she would have ced her husband, that she had in reality power of the two. But the intriguers they kept her quiet; they frightened idea of listening to men whom they as wishing to overthrow her family. thus beset, she acted a part so unnd so equivocal, and showed, appaast, so little sense of her wrongs, and sire to obtain redress for those wrongs; ed to be so.contented in her state of so little sensible of the dishonour of shed from the court; so passive, so at last the people began to cool, and, of them began to doubt, that there mething at bottom that made her re

set her enemies at defiance. This, ould not have lasted long; she would

found some new affront, some new egradation would have been inflicted she would then have been roused to tment, and thrown back into the hands ormers, there to remain. But now, in 1, just a year after she had received the om the Common Hall of the city of eace took place, in consequence of the poleon; and that fall, of the causes of

P

which we shall have to speak by-and-by, was not much more complete in his case, than the step which she had been induced to take at the insti gation of her insidious advisers, finally was fatal to her. She was safe nowhere but in England: everywhere else her bitter enemies had the means of effecting her ruin. They had suc ceeded in keeping her quiet for a short space, but they could not have succeeded in this long; she even began to testify great impatience; but now the way was open for them to advise her to travel upon the Continent, and in evil hour she lis tened to and followed that advice, by which she brought upon herself a long string of new charges, had again to encounter the effect of new perjuries, new calumnies, and a long series of persecutions, ending at last in her death; all which may fairly be ascribed to her having lis tened to the deadly advice of these insidious deceivers, to which must, however, be added, an innate, an inveterate propensity in herself to think meanly of the people.

198. It was so manifest that England was her only place of safety; it was so clear that her absence would cool the people in their zeal for her; that she would become in some degree forgotten; that, besides these considerations, the women would wonder (and English women in particular) how a mother could voluntarily sepa rate herself from her daughter, and especially a

had made it ground of former comh houses of Parliament, that she was ed to see her daughter more than

In short, this step was so maniated to give her husband a triumph to lay the foundation of her secluif not for her destruction, that the ow it became possible for her to be on to adopt it.

h regard to the motives of those who dvice, all doubt has been since removed , who, not belonging to the Minisme, contrived to become one of her ingratiated himself with her, flatsupplanted Mr. WooD, and, indeed, and WHITBREAD besides; and perhaps f this advice formed no small part of the premiership which he afterwards He has since confessed, and even his place in Parliament, that it was ailed upon her to exchange England tinent as the place of her residence ; same time, he declared that he did use he saw that sedition had marked wn;" that is to say, that he saw she ne a powerful instrument in the hands o wished to effect a reform of those buses of which he had always been a deeply interested upholder. Such was ith which this advice was given. From

the moment that it was acted upon, began those miseries of the PRINCESS, which were destined to end only with her life. Everywhere she moved amidst spies and informers; at every court she met with an insult, in every town and every village she was dogged by a spy; the creatures, fed by her bounty, were everywhere ready to betray and defame her; she, at last, was brought to an open trial; arraigned as an adulteress and a most dissolute woman; was saved from an ignomi nious sentence by those very English reformers on whom she had been prevailed to turn her back; and even this second triumph, which the reformers had given her, she was induced to cast away by again listening to the advice of the foes of reform. Here she ended; her death was the consequence; and again the reformers rescued her remains from dishonour.

200. Of the details of this last set of proceed ings, which took place in 1820 and in 1821, I shall have to speak hereafter; and I must now return a little to speak of that great event, the fall of the Emperor NAPOLEON; an event, the greatest in itself, and the greatest in its conse quences, of any which took place during this regency and reign.

201. The progress, the wonderful exploits, of NAPOLEON, together with the manner in which he had foisted his brothers upon the states which his army had overrun; these along with the ground

war against the Emperor of Russia will e in that part of the history of this ich will belong to the reign, the ruinsolating reign, of GEORGE III. We to speak of the overthrow, the deand the banishment of NAPOLEON, in of April 1814. He fell twice; once d once in 1815. It is of the first fall

have now to speak we shall then e second fall; and then describe the es of both to this our own country; onsequences are the matters which are to us. It is, however, an interesting now how so much power as that which d in 1813 came to be melted away in therefore I shall, as briefly as posibe the causes of a change so wondersudden.

he had, in this his attack upon Russia, imself within narrower bounds, he loubt, have brought the Autocrat upon but his cormorant ambition induced at the capture of Moscow, the ancient he Russian empire. If he had had paait for the return of spring, he might even aplished this; nay, he might have suche winter, had not the Autocrat respecies of hostility, more horrible than had ever heard of before, and such as ustified by no motive whatsoever, not