who governs his conscience is said to regulate his diversions, and his Royal Highness's character, in point of sobriety, has been a little blemished on this friar's account."

As the author of this letter is not known, it is impossible to say what degree of confidence it may be entitled to; but there is reason to believe that it was not written from the purest motives. Even the little court of James at Rome was not wholly free from intrigues and cabals, as we may judge from an extract from one of Charles's letters to his father, written about four months earlier than the foregoing. Kelly had before been accused, apparently, by this Paris correspondent, but Charles defends the character of his follower. "It is my humble opinion," says the Prince, "it would be very wrong in me to disgrace George Kelly, unless your Majesty positively ordered me to do it. I must do him the justice to assure you, I was surprised to find your Majesty have a bad opinion of him; and hitherto I have had no reason to be dissatisfied with him, for this was the first I heard of his honesty and probity to be in question. I shall take the liberty to represent that, if what he

has been accused of to you be wrote from hence, there is all reason to believe, id est, in my weak way of thinking, that such that have writ so to you mistake, because of my never having heard any body accuse him to me here of such things, and my having declared that my ears were open to every body, so as to be the better able to judge the characters of people."

The unfortunate habit to which we have alluded seems to have been contracted during the adventures and escapes of Charles in the Highlands of Scotland, after the battle of Culloden. At that time, the excitement of a dram of whisky was frequently put in requisition to enable him to bear up against the fatigues and privations with which he had to struggle. The habit may have continued after the first cause had ceased; nor is it impossible that it may have been strengthened by the fluctuating hopes and disappointments by which, for some years afterwards, his mind was kept in a state of almost constant excitement.

Charles may have been harsh to his wife; but on this point the testimony of Alfieri must not be adopted without making some allowance for

the irritation, which any husband might be excused for feeling, at the terms on which the Princess Louisa was known to be with her accomplished admirer. We shall have occasion to see that, even in the closing years of his life, Charles's mind was not unsusceptible to the finer affections; and therefore, though we believe that Alfieri was not intentionally guilty of slandering Charles, we may still take it for granted that the poet's unbounded devotion to the princess led him insensibly to exaggerate the defects of the husband; and as Alfieri himself says, "Terminerò con tutto cio, per amor del vero e del retto, col dire, che il marito e il cognato e i loro respettivi preti avevano tutte le raggioni di non approvare quella mia troppa frequenza."

CHAPTER XXXIII.

LAST YEARS OF CHARLES'S LIFE AND RESIDENCE AT ROME-HIS LAST ILLNESS AND DEATH-SURVIVING MEMBERS OF THE FAMILY-THE COUNTESS OF ALBANY -CARDINAL YORK.

IN April, 1783, Charles was suddenly taken so dangerously ill, that his brother, who left Rome on receiving the intelligence, scarcely expected to find him alive. The crisis, however, passed quickly, and the cardinal, on arriving at Florence, found his brother out of danger; he, nevertheless, remained with him fifteen days, during which time the ambiguous position of the princess with respect to Alfieri formed a frequent topic of their conversation, and the cardinal satisfied himself of the impropriety of allowing his own house to continue to be made the scene of their intercourse.

It is impossible to say what share his domestic afflictions may have had in the deep gloom which about this time appears to have settled on the

mind of Charles, but which never extinguished his deep-rooted affection for Scotland, the land of his youth, the theatre of his own heroic deeds, the country that he could never hope to see again. He always took the warmest interest in the accounts of Scottish travellers who procured introductions to him: but, on more than one occasion, these visitors were shocked at the extent to which their host became excited when his imagination was carried back to the tales of '45. On one occasion, at a musical entertainment given by the Prince at his villa, a brother exile ventured to sing the plaintive Highland ditty, "We'll maybe return to Lochaber no more." The melody was calculated to revive painful recollections, for Dr. Cameron was known to have sung it in his prison on the night before his execution. Charles, who all his life had been fond of music, had, on the evening in question, gradually resumed some portion of his once accustomed cheerfulness; but scarcely had the well-remembered tones of the song that told of Scotland and her sorrows fallen on his ear, than he bent down his head, covered his face with both his hands, and burst into tears.