6.66 The 'But on account of that ill luck which is inherent in every undertaking of the Bourbons, it so happened that this very man (Mirabeau) who never before had money, who was always in need, and continually dunned by his creditors who never had even enough for himself-it so happened that this man now had money, and that he was certain of having more. truth is, that he refused the proffered bribe and bowed his visitor out of the room with a dignity full worthy of the elder of the Gracchi.'-p. 162. Well," adds the Countess in another place, "who can hope for success in the case of one that has been destined to misfortune? The question of fate, so long a subject of dispute, and still so little understood, may be greatly elucidated by a reference to those successive misfortunes which nothing can arrest. Whatever a particular person does, whatever he undertakes, the seal of ill luck is fixed to his destiny-and nothing can remove it. There it is-stuck, as it were, to the certificate, which misfortune has issued-its characters traced with a pen of iron. Against this fatal decree how vain is all the opposition which the ingenuity of man and the intensity of his desire to be happy can engender. Happy! what is it a man will not do to make himself happy? Is there any enterprize deemed insuperable which has a chance of conferring happiness? And yet what is the first expression of the crowd when there is presented before it an unhappy object which is calculated to excite its sympathy-" We must not grieve, he is the author of his own ruin-fool !—idiot!"-nay, often, the unhappy man is denounced as a criminal. This is meant particularly for the Bourbons-for it is impossible that any body could be influenced by a star more inauspiciously placed than that of the Bourbon race, since the middle of the last century, Countries there are no doubt where pity and sympathy would be felt for their calamities: but here, the bitterest inculpation is sure to fall upon the most insignificant of their acts. pp. 160, 161. We return with pleasure to some of the anecdotes which Madame Junot relates of the early life of Napoleon. It was in the spring of 1793, before repairing to Toulon, that Buona parte, having obtained a furlough, made a journey to Corsica. He took up his residence, immediately on his arrival at Ajaccio, near the Porte-deMer, at an old countess's of the name of Rossi, a friend of his family. I cannot explain the reason of his not going to sojourn with his mother. However, there was a club established at the time outside the town, consisting of a great many orators, and Napoleon was an active member. The people of Ajaccio became alarmed at the influence of the club, and they formed another society, with many of the members of which I myself was acquainted. Amongst others, I knew a sea captain, whose ship was at the time in the roadstead, and who, by his intelligence and courage, and his well marked Breton head, was very well calculated to oppose the leaders of the original association, in case they thought of molesting the new club. The object of the latter was to preserve peace, and put down any disorders. The conduct of the first club appeared to be so opposed to the public tranquillity, as that a deputation from the rival body waited upon them to remonstrate and represent the injuries which they were doing to the quiet and order of the district. Our naval captain headed this deputation, which consisted only of himself and three other members of the new society. They exhorted the old club to cultivate principles of peace, and adopt the example which had been set them by the republican government. Buonaparte, upon this, ascended the tribune, and delivered a most forcible speech, the purport of which was that in times of revolution, every man must be either a friend or foe of the new order of things. He told his audience that Solon inflicted the penalty of death on all who took a neutral part during the rage of civil commotions, and he concluded by denouncing as enemies to their country, all who in the existing juncture were moderate. As soon as the sitting was over, Napoleon proceeded to the square, where he appeared much excited, and very little disposed to conciliation. His bearing, however, had very little influence in intimidating my friend, who, as he was well acquainted with Napoleon, was enabled to remonstrate with him in strong terms upon the course he had taken in the debate. "Bah," exclaimed Buonaparte," that's all the mere style of the club, man. But you, my friend, how is it that with all your talents you cannot see the advantage of assuming a firm attitude? how is it that you do not take the high road, instead of confining yourself to a mere by-path." "The by-path," replied my friend, "which I have chosen, is as strait, and perhaps straiter, than the road on which you, Buonaparte, may one day meet your destruction, and it is in the name of the friendship which I bear your that I now beseech you to abandon your present tactics." Buonaparte knit his brows, and turning about, sought some of his turbulent colleagues of the club.'-pp. 229-231. A few days after this occurrence, Buonaparte was informed by the same friend, that about a thousand of the country people were about to make a descent upon the town, and would direct their vengeance principally against him. He profited by the intelligence, and assuming the disguise of a sailor, he was rowed off the isle the same night to a place of safety. It was very shortly after this event that he received his appointment at the siege of Toulon. Here, too, it appears that Napoleon was the same, unsociable carping, and discontented person that he was at the military school. The officers were prejudiced against him, but his abilities and skill commanded the confidence of the besieging army, though he was no more at the time than five and twenty years old. We must pass over a great deal of very interesting and agreeable writing, in which the Duchess exhibits the very first order of powers for delineating character. We particularly allude to her whole account of Salicetti, one of those men whose fortunes appear to be the realization of some strange vision, created by a distempered imagination. We cannot, however, omit the passage in which she speaks of one of her husband's early attachments, if it were only to shew the philosophy with which a French lady can talk of a subject connected with a hazard that must have been dreadful for her to contemplate. The time of the following scene was just at the breaking out of the revolution. We must premise that both Napoleon and Junot were in the habit, in common indeed with every conspicuous man in Paris, of frequenting the Garden of Plants, which at that time com bined both for the gratification of the senses, and the mind, materials such as we never shall expect to see associated again. เ One evening' writes the Duchess they (Buonaparte and Junot) plunged into the thickest of the shades in the garden, where the breath of myriads of flowers shed the most balmy perfume around. The air was mild, and the two friends paced the walk, arm in arm, for the epaulette no longer interposed to disturb the most perfect equality between them. Beneath a clear and beautiful sky, and surrounded by beds of the most beautiful and precious flowers, and touched by the charming scene, the two friends opened their hearts to each other. The influence of a lovely night is powerful on those who feel strongly. Buonaparte was afterwards governed by a ruling passion which absolutely parched up his heart, and which told. him-"I shall reign alone over thee"-I need not name this passion. But at the period to which I allude he was very young: his heart beat rather violently under the influence of a passion for a lady, and he was fairly in love. He spoke of his passion to Junot, and spoke of it with bitterness too, for he was far from being happy. Junot has told me that if Buonaparte had not of his own accord severed every tie which subjected his heart to the passions, he would have felt them in a terrible manner. Upon the evening of which I speak, in mentioning this matter to Junot, his voice trembled, and Junot observed how he was affected. But he suddenly broke off the conversation and appeared to have forgotten his emotion. 'Nothing begets confidence so much as confidence. Junot's heart was full of such thoughts as could only be disclosed to a friend-but for a long time he gave his confidence to Napoleon. Junot was in love, foolishly in love, with Paulette Buonaparte. His young and burning heart could not resist at the sight of so enchanting a creature as Paulette-he loved her with passion-he loved her to distraction-and honour compelled him to declare it to Buonaparte. The latter neither rejected nor accepted his proposal, but consoled him, and raised his spirits very much by telling him it was quite certain that Paulette would reply "Yes," with pleasure, on the day when Junot might be able to offer her an establishment; not, indeed, a very opulent one, but such as would secure them from the hazard of bringing children into the world in poverty. Junot, thus excited, became very importunate, and showed Buonaparte a letter which he had received from his father, and in which the writer said that at present he could give his son nothing, but that his ultimate share would be twenty thousand francs. "I shall then be rich," said Junot to Buonaparte, "for, with my estate, I shall have 1200 livres de rentes. I conjure you, then, to write for your mother's consent." They left the garden, crossed the water in a boat, and promenaded for some time that part of the Boulevard which is opposite the Chinese baths. Buonaparte all this time listened to Junot attentively; but he was no longer the same man that had been just enjoying the delights of the garden with Junot in returning to the tumult of the city, his soul seemed to have been kindled to the recollection of those dependencies and obligations which are essential to a state of society. His manner, however, was still affectionate, and he thus admonished his friend :— "I cannot apply to my mother in this matter, for it appears that you are to have 1200 livres de rentes, which is very well-but you have not them now. Your father, I dare say, is in very good health, and may make you wait for a good while. In a word, you have got nothing whatever but your lieutenant's epaulette. As to Paulette, she has got nothing either-so that you have nothing, and she has nothing-which added together make a total-nothing. Then, you cannot marry at present. Wait awhile; we shall yet see better days, my friend. Yes, we shall, when I am able to seek them in another part of the world."'-pp. 281–285. With these quotations, which will give a very fair idea of the importance and value of this work, we shall dismiss the first volume. It is our intention to notice the contents of each succeeding volume as it issues from the press. NOTICES. ART. X.-The Church Establishment founded in error. By a Layman. 8vo. pp. 219. London: Wilson. 1831. UPON all sides enemies are rising, we may say in masses, against the church. The House of Commons already has declared itself determined to withhold at a future period the venerable grant to the venerable society for the propagation of the Gospel in foreign parts; the Bishopric of Derry remains still vacant, and will doubtless be subjected to considerable curtailment; and a severe scrutiny is going on in the legislature into the whole of the revenues of the Irish church, we presume with a view to their partial, if not, indeed, their total abolition. Divines complain of the liturgy, and of pluralities, and episcopal translations in both countries, and here we have a layman boldly asserting the English church establishment to be in error; a proposition which he has established so much to his own satisfaction, that he places it as the very front and title page of his pamphlet. He cannot be said, like certain other opponents of the establishment, to be a Papist in disguise, for he condemns the system of the catholic church as much as that of the church of England. His doctrine is, that enough was not done, in the way of radical change at the period of the reformation, and that the omissions which occurred then, through inadvertence, ignorance, or haste, ought now to be supplied, it being admitted, by one of her own advocates, that "the church of England has gone on from the commencement of the reformation of religion until the present time, a period of almost 300 years, acknowledging and lamenting her own incompleteness in some important particulars, but prevented by some extraneous circumstances from applying the remedy." In the mean time the people, not seeing these faults, have gone on from father to son, supposing the church to be a model of truth, those who dissent from it being occasionally flattered with a relaxation of the penal laws, that in times of excitement were passed against them, and being hitherto contented with the growing liberality of toleration-which, in the author's opinion, is as disgraceful to its authors as to its endurers, and is moreover insulting to the majesty and wisdom of heaven, who has pronounced every man to be a free agent.' He then expresses his be lief that the period is rapidly approaching when it will become a work of necessity, if not of choice, very much to modify, perhaps altogether to destroy, the connection between the church and state.' Various causes have been assigned for the turn which public opinion has taken in this direction : some good persons assure themselves that it is entirely owing to the want of a sufficient number of churches! but, strange to say, in proportion as the number of new churches increases, that of the disciples of the church decreases, in something like a mathematical proportion. Some say that it is to be attributed to the press, and to the erroneous notions of their own importance which it circulates amongst the people; while others admit that the chuch requires a few alterations, and that if these were effected, it would, as by law now established, be the best of all other practicable systems for the pure perpetuation of Christianity. Our author ridicules all these notions, and courageously contends that the true cause of the declension of the church, and of the increase of dissent, is to be found in the errors which pervade the establishment, errors which may be traced in its origin and progress, in the hypotheses upon which it is maintained, in its characteristic features, in the sacrifices by which it is upheld, and the evils it inflicts upon the church of Christ, individuals, and society. Not, however, that churchmen may not be saved; on the contrary, our layman excludes nobody but the unjust from heaven, where he hopes to meet the professors of every variety of creed, into which Christianity has yet been divided. So far, it cannot be denied that at least he is an amiable oppo nent. The author then proceeds to give an historical view of the origin and progress of the church of England, comparing it, as he advances, with the simplicity of the primitive church, which certainly did not count amongst its supporters Bishops with principalities at their command, nor pluralities of wealthy benefices. The union of the church with the state let in upon the former the tide of corruption which now overwhelms it, and that union might have been, and, as he insists, 'ought to have been broken up at the reformation.' The investiture of the sovereign with supreme spiritual power, was without legitimate precedent, and therefore could not have been necessary to the amicable settlement of the church but the reformers in this act voluntarily remained in the twilight, and the papal power was transferred to the princes of the countries that adopted the reformed doctrine! The fact is true, but the author speaks of reformers, as if what he calls reform began in England with a body of men attached to Christianity. He seems to forget that here it commenced with, and was carried on by the sovereigns of the country, originating with Henry VIII., who took good care to provide that whatever changes took place should tend rather to the increase than the diminution of their authority. After thus detailing the circumstances and consequences of the union of the church with the state, the author argues that, whatever may have been the regulations under the Jewish law, no authority was ever delegated to the Apostles to intreat, still less to command the assistance of political institutions; and upon this point we think that his position is unassailable. Such a connection he contends to be one of pagan |