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him, without reserve, the worst side of things; and, what will scarcely be believed, he fell asleep while talking on such a subject, without any preceding fatigue that could explain so singular an apathy. This did not prevent his displaying an extreme activity in his campaign of 1814; he suffered himself, no doubt, to be misled by a presumptuous confidence; and, on the other hand, physical existence, through enjoyments and facilities of all kinds, had gained possession of this man, formerly so intellectual. His soul seemed in some sort to have become gross along with his body. His genius now pierced only at intervals too that covering of egotism which a long habit o being considered every thing had made him acquire. He sunk under the weight of proserity, before he was overthrown y misfortune. No, never shall I forget the moment when I learned from one of my friends, on the morning of the 6th of March, 1815, that Buonaparte had disembarked on the coast of France : I had the misfortune to foresee instantly the consequences of that event, such as they have since taken place, and ¥ thought that the earth was about to open under my feet. For several days after the success of this man, the aid of prayer failed me entirely, and, in my trouble, it seemed to me that the Deity had withdrawn from the earth, and would no longer communicate with the beings whom he had placed there. I suffered in the bottom of my heart from personal circumstances; but the situation of

France absorbed every other thought. I said to M. de io, whom I met almost at the hour when this news was resounding around us: “There is an end of liberty, if Buonaparté triumph, and of national independence, if he be defeated.” The event has, I think, but too much justified this sad prediction. It was impossible to avoid an inexpressible irritation before the return, and during the progress of Buonaparte. For a month back, all those who have any acuaintance with revolutions felt the air charged with storms; repeated notice of this was given to persons connected with government; but many among them regarded the disquieted friends of liberty as relapsing, and as still believing in the influence of the people, in the power of revolutions. The most moderate among the aristocrats thought that public affairs regarded government only, and that it was indiscreet to interfere with them. They could not be made to understand, that to be acquainted with what is passing in a country where the spirit of liberty ferments, men in office should neglect no intelligence, be indifferent to no circumstance, and multiply their numbers by acti. vity, instead of wrapping themselves up in a mysterious silence. The partisans of Buonaparte were a thousand times better informed on every thing than the servants of the king; for the Buonapartists, as well as their master, were aware of what importance every individual can be in a time of trouble. Formerly every thing depended on men in office;

office; at present those who are out of office act more on public opinion than government itself, and have consequently a better foresight into the future. A continual dread had taken possession of my soul several weeks before the disembarkation of Buonaparte. In the evening, when the beautiful buildings of the town were displayed by the rays of the moon, it seemed to me that I saw my happiness and that of France, like a sick friend, whose smile is the more amiable, because he is on the eve of leaving us. When told that this terrible man was at Cannes, I shrunk before the certainty as before a i. but when it was no longer possible to escape that certainty, I was but too well assured that he would be at Paris in a fortnight. The royalists made a mockery of this terror; it was strange to hear them say that this event was the most fortunate thing possible, because we should then be relieved from Buonaparté, because the two chambers would feel the necessity of giving the king absolute power, as if absolute power was a thing to be given 2–despotism, like liberty, is assumed, it is never granted. I am not sure that among the enemies, of every constitution, there may not have been some who rejoiced at the convulsion which might recall foreigners and induce them to impose an absolute government on France. Three days were passed in the inconsiderate hopes of the royalist § At last, on the 9th of arch, we were told that nothing was known of the Lyons telegraph because a cloud had prevented reading the communica

tion. I was at no loss to understand what this cloud was. I went in the evening to the Tuileries to attend the king's levee; on seeing him, it seemed to me that, with a great deal of courage, he had an expression of sadness, and nothing was more affecting than his noble resignation at such a moment. On going out, I perceived on the walls of the apartment, the eagles of Napoleon which had not yet been removed, and they seemed to me to have re-assumed their

threatening look. In the evening, in a party, one of those young ladies who, with so many others, had contributed to the spirit of frivolity which it was attempted to oppose to the spirit of faction, as if the one could contend against the other; one of these young ladies, I say, came up to me, and began jesting on that anxiety which I could not conceal : “What, Madam,” said she to me, “can you apprehend that the French will not Jight for their legitimate king against a usurper ?" How, without committing one’s self, could one answer a phrase so adroitly turned 2 But, after twenty-five years of revolution, ought one to flatter one’s self that legitimacy, an idea respectable but abstract, would have more ... ascendency over the soldiers than all the recollections of their long wars? In fact, none of them contended against the supernatural ascendency of the genius of the African isles; they called for the tyrant in the name of liberty: they rejected in its name the constitutional monarch; they brought six hundred thousand foreigners into the bosom of France, to | efface efface the humiliation of having seen them there during a few weeks; and this frightful day of the 1st of March, the day when Buonaparte again set foot on the soil of France, was more fertile in disasters than any epoch of history. I will not launch out, as has been but too much done, into declamations of every kind against Napoleon. He did what it was natural to do in endeavouring to regain the throne he had lost, and his progress from Cannes to Paris is one of the greatest conceptions of audacity that can be cited in history. But what shall we say of the enlightened men who did not see the misfortunes of France and of the world in the possibility of his return ? A great general, it will be said, was wanted to avenge the reverses experienced by the French army. In that case, Buonaparte ought not to have proclaimed the treaty of Paris; for if he was unable to re-conquer the barrier of the Rhine sacrificed by that treaty, what purpose did it answer to expose that which France was possessing in peace? But, it will be answered, the secret intention of Buonaparte was to restore to France her natural barriers. But was it not clear that Europe would penetrate that intention, that she would form a coalition to resist it, and that, particularly at the time in question, France was unable to resist united Europe? The congress was still assembled; and although a great deal of discontent was produced by several of their ji. was it possible that the nations would make choice of Buonaparte for their

defender P Was it he who had oppressed them whom they could oppose to the faults of their princes? The people were more violent than the sovereigns in the war against Buonaparte; and France, on taking him back for her ruler, necessarily brought on herself the hatred both of governments and nations. Will it be pretended that it was for the interest of liberty that they recalled the man who had, during fifteen years, shown himself most dextrous in the art of being master—a man equally violent and deceitful ? People spoke of his conversion, and there were not wanting believers in this miracle: less faith certainly was required for the miracles of Mahomet. The friends of liberty have been able to see in Buonaparte only the counter-revolution of despotism, and the revival of an old regime more recent, but on that account more formidable; for the nation was still completely fashioned to tyranny, and neither principles nor public virtue had had time to take root. Personal interests only, and not opinions, conspired #. the return of Buonaparté, and of those mad interests which were blinded in regard to their own danger, and accounted the fate of France' as nothing. .

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either to his friend or his physi

cian, though it is visible to all his acquaintance. Pope and I, with my lord Orrery and Sir Harry Bedingfield, dined with the late earl of Burlington. After the first course Pope grew sick, and went out of the room. When dinner was ended, and the cloth removed, my lord Burlington said he would go out, and see what was become of Pope. And soon after they returned together. But Pope, who had been casting up his dinner, looked very pale, and complained much. My lord asked him if he would have some mulled wine or a glass of old sack, which Pope refused. I told my lord Burlington that he wanted a dram. Upon which the little man expressed some resentment against me, and said he would not taste any spirits, and that he abhorred drams as much as I did. However I persisted, and assured my lord Burlington that he could not oblige our friend more at that instant than by ordering a large ; of cherry-brandy to be set

efore him. This was done, and in less than half an hour, while my lord was acquainting us with an affair which engaged our attention, Pope had sipped up all the brandy. Pope's frame of body did not promise long life; but he certainly hastened his death by feeding much on higho dishes, and drinking spirits.


[From King's Anecdotes.]

The last time I dined with Dean Swift, which was about three years before he fell into that distemper which totally de

prived him of his understanding, I observed, that he was affected by the wine which he drank, about a pint of claret. The next morning, as we were walking together in his garden, he complained much of his head, when I took the liberty to tell him (for I most sincerely loved him that I was afraid he drank too much wine. He was a little startled, and answered, “ that as to his drinking, he had always looked on himself as a very temperate man; for he never exceeded the quantity which his physician had allowed and prescribed him.” Now his physician never drank less than two bottles of claret after his dinner.

Doctor Swift was always persuaded that the archbishop of York had made impressions on Queen Anne to his disadvantage, and by that means had obstructed his preferment in England; and he has hinted this in his apology for the Tale of the Tub, and in other parts of his works; and yet my lord Bolingbroke, who must have been well informed of this particular, told me that he had been assured by the queen herself, that she never had received any unfavourable character of Dr. Swift, nor had the archbishop, or any other person, endeavoured to lessen him in her esteem. M lord Bolingbroke added, that this tale was invented by the earl of Oxford to deceive Swift, and make him contented with his deanery in Ireland; which, although his native country, he always looked on as a place of banishment. If lord Bolingbroke had hated the earl of Oxford less, I should have been readily inclined to believe him.


[From King's Anecdotes.]

The duke of Orleans, who was regent of France during the minority of the present king Lewis the XVth, was most debauched in his life and abandoned in his morals. And yet he appeared to be a prince of great humanity, and a lover of public justice. When count Horn was sentenced to be broke on the wheel, duke D'Aremberg, and the whole family of Horn, applied to the regent for a pardon. But not succeeding in this attempt, and finding the regent inflexible, they requested that the Count's sentence might, only be changed, and to avoid an ignominious death, which would be a lasting stain in the whole family, that he might have the favour of being beheaded. But this likewise the Regent refused, and made this answer: “count Horn is my relation as well as yours: but the infamy is not in the punishment, but in the crime.” When the Prince of * * * * solicited the Regent to pardon a murder, which he had committed, after having been pardoned for the same crime once or twice before; “I will pardon you,” says the Regent, “but take notice and keep this in your memory, I will certainly pardon the man, whoever he be, that kills you.” This monitory had a proper effect, and put a stop to the barbarities of this Bourbon prince, who presumed that his quality of Prince of the blood was a licence for murder. These two answers of the Regent of France deserve to be written in letters of gold.


[From King's Anecdotes.]

Atterbury, bishop of Rochester, when a certain bill was brought into the House of Lords, said among other things, “that he prophesied last winter this bill would be attempted in the present session, and he was sorry to find that he had proved a true prophet.” My lord Coningsby, who spoke after the bishop, and always spoke in a passion, desired the house to remark, “that one of the right reverend had set himself forth as a prophet; but for his part he did not know what prophet to liken him to, unless to that furious prophet Balaam, who was reproved by his own ass.” The bishop in a reply, with great wit and calmness, exposed this rude attack, concluding thus: “ since the noble lord hath discovered in our manners such a similitude, I am well content to be compared to the prophet Balaam : but, my lords, I am at a loss how to make out the other part of the parallel: I amsure that I have been reproved by nobody but his lordship.”

THE PRETENDER. [From King's Anecdotes.]

September 1750, I received a note from my lady Primrose, who desired to see me immediately. As soon as I waited on her, she led me into her dressing-room, and presented me to —.” If I was surprised to find him there, I was still more astonished when he acquainted Ine * The Pretender,

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