Secret History of the Court of England, from the Accession of George the Third to the Death of George the Fourth, Volume 2 (of 2) / Including, Among Other Important Matters, Full Particulars of the Mysterious Death of the Princess Charlotte

by Lady Anne Hamilton

1822

was one of great interest and importance, both abroad and at home; but to the latter we shall chiefly confine ourselves.

On the 18th of January, a cabinet council was held, at which Lord Sidmouth was present, notwithstanding his previous resignation of the seals of office. From this, it is evident that, though out of OFFICE in reality, this noble lord was in place specially.

Ireland, at this time, presented a sad appearance; outrages of every kind were of daily occurrence, and famine, with its appalling front, stared the lower classes in the face. Much blood was shed, and yet no efficient means were taken to subdue the cause of these fatal insurrections. The King of England, though he had professed so much love for his dear Irish subjects in his late eloquent speech, screened himself, under his assumed popularity, from blame on such serious charges, while his incompetent and mean advisers, believing their persons safe under the

[[39]]protection of their PUISSANT PRINCE, gave themselves no trouble about so insignificant a matter. Disgrace and infamy, however, will ever be attached to their names for so flagrant a dereliction of duty to the Irish people!

In April, Thomas Denman, esq., the late queen's solicitor-general, was elected to serve the office of common-sergeant for the city of London; and, on the 27th of May, he commenced his career with trying the unnamed servant of a bookseller for selling an irreligious and seditious book. Mr. Denman sentenced him to eighteen months' imprisonment in the House of Correction and, at the end of that time, to find sureties for five years, himself in one hundred pounds, and two others in forty pounds each!

In narrating this circumstance, we cannot forbear expressing our detestation of all prosecutions in matters of RELIGION. They neither redound to the honour of Christianity, nor effect the slightest benefit to morality. Every one has an undoubted right to entertain what religious opinions may best accord with the dictates of that all-powerful monitor—Conscience; and all endeavours to force different opinions are only so many attempts to make men hypocrites. "But," say our religious prosecutors, "the Bible must not be attacked, or the true religion will fall into contempt." As an answer to this argument, we say, that if the said true religion will not bear the test of examination and argument, the sooner it falls into contempt the better! The glorious truths of the New Testament, however, are sufficiently

[[40]]manifest, and do not require the puny and adventitious advocacy of Cant. The strong arm of the law is not requisite to uphold Christianity, for it possesses within its own pure doctrines sufficient to recommend it to the admiration and gratitude of mankind. When these doctrines are attacked, let Christians endeavour, by fair and mild reasoning, to support their beneficence and purity, and they will be sure to make converts. But, if they once attempt to FORCE CONVICTION, their defeat is inevitable! It is, therefore, contrary to common sense, as well as being unjust and deplorable, that a man should be punished for disbelieving any particular sentiment. What proof did Mr. Denman[40:A] give of

[[41]]the mild and forgiving doctrines of Christianity in his severe sentence against this man? Was it from

[[42]]motives of Christian charity that he traduced him before a public tribunal? Were the proceedings of the court at all calculated to impress the man's mind with the true spirit of Christianity? The contrary might well be said. For neither was the accusation distinguished by that moderation which ought to be observed even against the worst of criminals, nor was it very humane to imprison him eighteen months, and afterwards keep the arm of justice suspended by binding him in sureties for five years not to so offend again. It will be but fair to ask, whether, if the religious welfare of this man had been deemed by his prosecutors worthy of the slightest consideration, they would not have proceeded directly contrary to what they did? But, as Dr. Watts has justly observed, when speaking of religious prosecutors, "They are too apt to denounce damnation upon their neighbours without either justice or mercy; and, while pronouncing sentences of divine wrath against supposed heretics, they add their own

[[43]]human fire and indignation!" Such prosecutions, therefore, only tend to excite the contempt of those very persons who are expected to be made better by them. With respect to the other count of the foregoing indictment, "that the publication was calculated to bring the king and his ministers into contempt," we think such an attempt of the publisher was totally unnecessary; for both the king and his ministers were then in the full zenith of their fame, and had the sincere prayers of the greater part of the community for their speedy deliverance from—this world!

In the early part of this month, an elegant service of plate was presented to Alderman Wood, as an acknowledgement for his disinterested services in the cause of the late queen; while, strange to say, the large service of plate subscribed for the queen by the country, at only one shilling each, never reached its destination! The funds for this purpose were entrusted to the care of Messrs. Wood, Hume, and others; the amount collected was more than three thousand pounds during the first few months of the subscription, which regularly increased till the queen's death. The cause of the opening of this subscription was owing to the fact of her majesty being refused all suitable conveniences for the dinner table, as she could only have a dinner served upon blue-and-white earthenware! To this fact, the noblemen and gentlemen who dined at her majesty's table can fully attest. We are inclined to think, however, that the alderman's services to the queen

[[44]]have been a little overrated. That Mr. Wood was her majesty's best and most disinterested friend, thousands were led to believe; but that he was not so, we shall endeavour to PROVE.

When a subscription was proposed for a service of plate for her majesty, a Scotch lady forwarded one hundred guineas towards it. Alderman Wood had the chief management of this subscription, as of almost every thing else that related to the queen. The alderman employed one Pearson to collect the money. This Pearson was the fellow that cut such a figure in the Manchester massacre; and, therefore, he was thought, we suppose, a very capable person for such an undertaking. After collecting a considerable sum of money, Pearson was about taking his leave of this country for America; but, intimation having been given of his perfidy, he was stopped.

Alderman Wood said his friends also wished him to have a service of plate, but his subscription was to be raised by half-crowns; indeed it was expected that four or eight friends would join, and not present the alderman with less than a GOLDEN PIECE. Unfortunately, the poor queen died before the money the people intended to raise for her plate was completed. At first, her friends wished to have a monument erected to her memory in Hammersmith; but no ground could be obtained for this purpose, and it was feared that her enemies would treat any pillar to her honor with the same indignity that they had treated herself. Alms-houses were then proposed to be built, but NOTHING HAS YET BEEN

[[45]] DONE WITH THE MONEY, (amounting to about three thousand pounds) either principal or interest. Mr. Wood has been frequently applied to, through the public papers, concerning this money, but no answer has ever been given. The alderman managed the subscription for his own plate much better; for he took good care to receive it as soon as possible! The alderman is known now to be very rich from his Cornwall mines; he has, besides, two distant relations in Gloucester, brothers, worth a million between them, which he may probably share, they having no relations. When, however, he went for the queen, his mines were unprofitable, and himself embarrassed. Be that as it may, the queen certainly, by his urgent entreaties, employed his coach-maker in South Audley-street, and most of his other tradespeople.

The ill-natured world will talk; and some people went so far as to accuse the disinterested and patriotic alderman with sinister motives in these recommendations, and that he had actually "a feeling in every thing that came into her majesty's house!" Whether or not this was the case, the alderman most assuredly spoke to the queen, very animatedly, to purchase Cambridge House, opposite to his own, in South Audley-street, though her majesty said she would never sleep in it, nor did she. The enormous sum which Mr. Wood persuaded the queen to give for this house was sixteen thousand pounds! but, notwithstanding her majesty made several improvements in it, it only sold at the queen's

[[46]]death for six thousand pounds!! This fact will speak volumes. Are no interested motives to be traced here?

We do not wish to deprive Alderman Wood of any merit that may justly be his due; but, though he accompanied her majesty to England, he certainly did not persuade her to come over, as some people have imagined. He, nor any one else, had any hand in that; it was the spontaneous determination of the queen herself! That the alderman REFUSED the house, 22, Portman-street, which was offered for the queen's accommodation till a better could be provided cannot be denied; he preferred receiving her majesty into his own house. It is also well known that the alderman, by his officious and ungentlemanly, nay, we may say, IMPUDENT conduct, lost her majesty many friends in the higher circles, who would not act with him. Nor can this be wondered at when his vulgar manners to his superiors are taken into consideration. That we may not be supposed to assert this without reason, we will here relate a few instances, which came immediately under our own observation.

The queen gave a dinner to the Duke of Bedford, Earl Grey, Lord Tankerville, and other noblemen and gentlemen. His grace of Bedford handed her majesty down the room, and sat on her right, and Earl Grey on her left. Instead of the vice-chamberlain (according to etiquette) sitting at the top of the table to carve, Mr. Wood seated himself there, above every one, and, grinning, ordered her

[[47]]vice-chamberlain to go to the other end opposite him, thus publicly proclaiming his ignorance and impudence! Earl Grey is reckoned the proudest man in England, and it was said, he observed, "It is the first, and shall be the last, time that the alderman shall sit above me."

When the queen came from Dover to town, accompanied by this alderman and Lady Anne Hamilton, he presumptuously seated himself by her majesty's side, thus forcing her lady to take the seat opposite, with her back to the horses! We need hardly offer a remark upon so great a breach of good manners; for any individual, possessing the spirit of an Englishman, would always give precedence to a lady.

When her majesty went to St. Paul's cathedral, Mr. Wood placed himself at the coach door to attend her out, and kept laughing and talking to her till they arrived near the statue of Queen Elizabeth, where the lord mayor and his retinue met her, after coming from the church for that purpose; but when his lordship (Thorpe, naturally a modest man) perceived that the queen was so engaged that she never lifted up her eyes, he and his procession were turning back in confusion to re-enter the church, when one of the queen's followers caught firmly hold of the officious alderman's gown, stopped them, and said, "Mr. Wood, Mr. Wood, don't you see the lord mayor come to hand the queen?—you would not affront the city so as not to let him?" Sir Robert Wilson, who was near, said, "Do run and call

[[48]]the lord mayor back, thousands of eyes are upon us!" His lordship turned round, and the procession proceeded into the church, as it ought to have done from the carriage door; but Mr. Wood was exceedingly angry, and would follow next to her majesty, though repeatedly told that it was Lady Anne Hamilton's place, as her majesty's lady in waiting.

At the city concert, also, Alderman Wood displayed his indecorous conduct. The orchestra was elevated about a foot, and at the right of the orchestra two chairs were placed, one for the queen, and the other for her lady in waiting, who sat next the people. Alderman Wood stood behind her majesty the whole time, laughing and whispering, in the most intimate style, in her ear; and though her lady kept her face towards them, wishing it to appear to the public that at least she had a share in the conversation, alas! too many saw she was never spoken to by either!

From such impudent and vulgar conduct as this, we heard a certain royal duke observe, "I wish to serve the queen, but I will not be Mr. Wood's cat's-paw, nor play second fiddle to him!" Similar observations were made by noblemen of the very first rank in this country. It may be asked, "Why did the queen allow herself to be guided so much by this alderman?" Because her majesty thought him honest, and was not aware that he kept any other persons away. "Could no one tell her majesty the real state of things?" No! for Mr. Wood actually set her against every one, except himself and his

[[49]]own creatures, in order to preserve entire influence over her majesty. Indeed, her legal advisers could hardly speak to the queen, without this very officious gentleman being present. He began by prejudicing her majesty against them all; for he said, "No lawyers are good for any thing; I esteem myself above them all." We ourselves heard him say so. When he had thus persuaded her majesty of his own superiority, and introduced himself into all the consultations of her law advisers, (unless they demanded a private audience) he began to attack the Whigs, and amused himself by constantly abusing them. He has frequently been heard to say, "The Whigs are worse enemies of your majesty than the ministers; they would sacrifice you if they could." But, for himself, he led her to believe that he could do any thing with the people! In the city, he conceitedly told her majesty, at the head of her own table, (where he usually sat, till Lord Hood took his place) in November, when his friend Thorp was elected mayor, that "they wanted to elect me mayor a third time, but I would not accept the office;" while, at this very election, there was but ONE SINGLE VOTE for him, and that was the new lord mayor's, who could not vote for himself!

It is very lamentable to consider that her majesty was so much guided by this one man in most of her actions, even to the fatal day of the coronation, upon which occasion, however, he took particular care not to attend her. There is every reason to believe, notwithstanding, that her going at all was owing to

[[50]]his secret advice, though he pretended to the contrary. Those who heard him at the king's dinner were disgusted at his being the loudest to applaud his majesty! Most certainly, the coronation day did not end to her majesty as she had been led to expect; and she discovered, or fancied so, that she had no friend or adviser in England on whom she could rely; and, therefore, determined to visit Scotland. It was remarked to the queen, by a true friend, who sought only her honour and happiness, that Scotland was a proud nation, and that it would not be there thought that Alderman Wood was of sufficient rank to attend her majesty. The queen quickly and indignantly replied, "Alderman Wood! I should never think of taking him! No, no; I shall only take Lord and Lady Hood, and Lady Hamilton!" All the world knows her majesty never named the alderman in her will; but all the world does not know that, a short time before her death, she said, "I owe Wood nothing!"

The alderman also seized every opportunity he could to persuade the queen to go abroad again. On one of these occasions, a friend of her majesty overheard the hypocritical adviser, and immediately said, "How can you, Mr. Wood, pretend to be her majesty's best friend, and yet want her to do that which would ruin her in the eyes of the whole country?" "I do not want her to go," replied he, "but if she will go, I wish to point out to her the best way of doing it." "Sir, there is no good way for the queen to quit the country, and if you should

[[51]]unfortunately succeed in persuading her to do it, you will be her ruin!"

Thus it will be seen, that "all is not gold that glitters;" but Mr. Wood ought hardly to find fault with us for stripping him of his borrowed plumes, considering the length of time he has been allowed to wear them! If the public had known these particulars at the time they occurred, it is doubtful whether the alderman would have ever received his plate; therefore, he owes us a little gratitude for not mentioning them before that (to him) golden opportunity!

Alderman Wood, however, we are sorry to say, was not the only false friend her majesty had to lament. Many others "held with the hare in one house, and ran with the hounds in another." Some of these even attended public meetings in the quality of friends, and then wrote as enemies in the public journals. Some inveighed against her in public, and wrote, spoke, and acted for her cause in private. One of her judges, to our positive knowledge, spoke admirably for her in parliament, and yet privately, in more places than one, impugned the character of her majesty! Even while the queen was abroad, her presumed friends were extremely negligent at home. They permitted insidious paragraphs to appear in the newspapers, day after day, month after month, and year after year, without either contradiction or explanation; by which shameful neglect, the public mind became so impregnated with falsehood and insinuation, that, had

[[52]]not the queen returned to this country as she did, her name would have been recorded in history as infamous! Sure never woman was so shamefully treated, both by friends and foes; indeed, her majesty might well have exclaimed, with Gay,

"An open foe may prove a curse,
But a pretended friend is worse!"

On the 12th of August, while his majesty was absent on a visit to Scotland, an extraordinary excitement prevailed by the reported "sudden death" of the Marquis of Londonderry. It is hardly necessary to enter into the various causes assigned for so unexpected an event; it is sufficient to know, that his lordship committed suicide, by cutting his throat with a small knife, at his seat, Foot's Cray, and that a coroner's inquest (either from conviction, or in kindness to his surviving friends) returned a verdict, that his lordship inflicted the wound while "delirious and of insane mind."

It is an obligation imposed upon every independent historian to lend his assistance to a just and honest estimate of the character of public men. It leads to useful, though not always to gratifying, reflections, to examine the causes which pointed them out as objects worthy of being entrusted with political command. By what strange union of circumstances, then, or by what unlucky direction of power, did the Marquis of Londonderry attain to the high and important offices which he successively

[[53]]held for so long a period?—a period the most momentous and ominous, the most fertile in change, the most wicked in court intrigue, and the most fraught with terror, of any in our annals! We have heard his lordship described as having been amiable in private life; but who has denied the manifest mediocrity of his genius for the situations he was allowed to fill? Some of his public proceedings, however, prove him not to have possessed much of "the milk of human kindness," as we shall presently shew. He was, indeed, only qualified to act as a mere associate, to be put forward in the face of Europe, not as himself a high and original power, but as a passive organ for the expression of sentiments, or for the execution of measures, hereafter traceable only as the opinions and actions of the "united cabinet" of a wicked chief magistrate. The panegyrists of his lordship have also trumpetted forth eulogiums on his "personal bravery." And if bravery consists in fighting duels, proposing the most unconstitutional acts, fearlessly oppressing the innocent, and in defying the power of a justly-enraged people, Lord Londonderry assuredly possessed "personal bravery" in an eminent degree!

His lordship was born on the 18th of June, 1769, and consequently died in the 53rd year of his age. He commenced his career, like his patron, Mr. Pitt, as the advocate of parliamentary reform; and, also like that apostate minister, Lord Londonderry abandoned his early patriotic pledges and principles for the emoluments of office, which he first entered

[[54]]in 1797, as keeper of the privy seal, and, shortly after, one of the lords of the treasury, of Ireland. In the following year, he became secretary to the lord lieutenant. Honours and places were now lavishly heaped upon him. In 1802, his lordship received the appointment of the Board of Controul, and, in 1805, was raised to the high and responsible office of minister of war! On the death of Mr. Pitt in 1806, his lordship was obliged to resign, with all the other "clerks in office," as the débris of Mr. Pitt's cabinet were called. On the resignation of the Grey and Grenville administration, in 1807, he resumed his former situation of minister of war, in which he continued till the ill-starred Walcheren expedition and his duel with Mr. Canning drove him from office, scorned and ridiculed by the whole of Europe. The year 1809 gave his lordship an opportunity of shewing how much he admired the existing abuses in church and state; for, on an investigation taking place into the Duke of York's shameful neglect of duty, as commander-in-chief, this year, the noble marquis was peculiarly active in his defence, and circulated a considerable sum of money in bribing those who were likely to appear as witnesses against the royal libertine. On the assassination of Mr. Perceval, in 1811, his lordship was made foreign minister, in which situation he continued till his death. Holding so high an office at a time when our foreign exertions were the most extensive and important, and acting as our negotiator when Europe might have been composed

[[55]]and re-adjusted by our councils, he had opportunities, which few ministers have enjoyed, of benefitting his country and the whole human race. But how did he employ these rare opportunities? Alas! his name is only to be found in treaties and conventions for clipping the boundaries, impairing the rights, or annihilating the existence of independent states; and he gloried in the opportunity of stifling liberty in all the lesser states of Europe. Even the colonial and commercial interests of Great Britain herself were bartered away for snuff boxes and the smiles of Continental despots! If, however, there is one action more than another calculated to brand the name of Castlereagh with immortal infamy, it is the mean, tyrannical, and inglorious conduct which he exercised towards the greatest man that ever reigned over a free and enlightened people—the Emperor Napoleon! To view the career of this truly illustrious man is to look back upon the course of a blazing star, that, drawing its fiery arch over the concave of heaven, fixes the admiring attention of the sublunary world, and dazzles, while it arrests, the wondering eye! What language can do justice to the mental powers and noble daring of the man who subdued the blood-thirsty enemies of his country, and laid Europe at his feet? In Napoleon, we saw the triumphant opposer of all despots, and the restorer of order to his own disorganized and distracted subjects. See him from his bold and judicious exertions at Toulon to his assumption of the imperial title, and the dread-inspiring attitude he

[[56]]presented to terrified and retiring Russia,—then judge his gigantic energy and valour! As first consul, he pacified Europe; and, as emperor and king, revenged her breach of the peace. Russia, Sweden, Denmark, Holland, Prussia, the Netherlands, Germany, Sardinia, Spain, Portugal, Italy, and Naples, were all in arms against his power; yet—all fell before it!

The termination of the great war in Europe was not the peculiar triumph of that cabinet of which Lord Londonderry was the most prominent tool. The campaigns of 1813 and 1814 were guided by the skill and spirit of Russian and German officers,—aided, to be sure, by British soldiers,—and with the whole civilized world for their allies. The English ministers, or rather, the MONIED INTEREST of England, were bankers to the "Grand Alliance," and furnished the sinews of the war. But, even with such mighty odds against him, the towering and gigantic genius of Napoleon would have defied them all, if English money had not BRIBED some of his generals. It was this, and this only, that completed his downfall. To talk of the Duke of Wellington as the conqueror of Napoleon is an insult to the understanding of any intelligent man, and for Lord Castlereagh to have boasted of having subdued him, as his lordship was wont to do, "was pitiful, was wonderous pitiful!" The English cabinet, at this period, was the same "incapable" cabinet. The men were the same satellites to Mr. Pitt, subordinates to Mr. Perceval,—nay, even to Lord Sidmouth, of

[[57]]Manchester notoriety,—whom the independent members of parliament had long known and despised. Circumstances ruled these ministers, whose position was chosen for them, and improved by others. They could not have resisted that universal impulse which they had not created, but which Bonaparte himself had provoked; for he defied the whole "Grand Alliance," and, so far, was the author of his own reverses, which, however, he would not so soon have experienced if Fouché, Duke of Otranto, had not suffered his avarice to get the better of his duty. It was this wicked duke, who, dreading the detection of his treachery, devised a plan for assassinating the Emperor Napoleon on his road to Waterloo. But, though this diabolical intention proved a failure, he succeeded too well in putting his illustrious master in the power of the British government. Not content, however, with betraying his king, Fouché, though he capitulated for Paris, gave up the rest of France to the discretion of her enemies and the tender mercies of the Russian cossacks! This most consummate of traitors likewise exposed those who had assisted him to execute his diabolical plans, and actually signed lists for their proscription! Even the treaty for the capitulation of Paris proved a mere juggle; for none of its provisions were properly adhered to by Lord Castlereagh. The Parisians were here most shamefully deceived. It could never have been contemplated by them, for instance, that the capital was to be rifled of all the monuments of art and antiquity, whereof she had become possessed by

[[58]]right of conquest. A reclamation of the great mortar in St. James' Park, or of the throne of the King of Ceylon, would have just as much appearance of fairness as that of Apollo by the Pope, and Venus by the Grand Duke of Tuscany. What a preposterous affectation of justice did our foreign secretary evince in employing British engineers to take down the brazen horses of Alexander the Great, that they might be re-erected in St. Mark's Place at Venice,—a city to which the Austrian emperor has no more equitable a claim than we have to Vienna! Lord Castlereagh's authority for emptying the Louvre was not only an act of unfairness to the French, but one of the greatest impolicy as concerned our own countrymen, since, by so doing, he removed beyond the reach of the great majority of British artists and students the finest models of sculpture and of painting the world has produced. Although England was made to bear the trouble and expense of these removals, the complacent Castlereagh gave all the spoil to foreign potentates, whose smiles and a few trifling presents compensated him for their loss! But what will posterity think of a British minister's violating a treaty for such paltry gratifications?

We come now to speak of the conduct of the departed minister to the betrayed Emperor of the French. Napoleon always declared that he gave himself up to England, in the confidence of promises, sacredly made to him by Lord Castlereagh, that he should be allowed to remain in this country. "My having given myself up to you," were

[[59]]Napoleon's words, "is not so simple a matter as you imagine. Before I went to Elba, Lord Castlereagh offered me an asylum in England, and said that I should be very well treated there, and much better off than at Elba." But how did his lordship fulfil these promises? This will be best explained in the language of Napoleon himself, in a protest which he wrote on board the Bellerophon, August 4th, 1815, of which the following is a translation:

"I hereby solemnly protest, in the face of heaven and of man, against the violence done me, and against the violation of my most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and my liberty. I came voluntarily on board of the Bellerophon; I am not a prisoner, I am the guest of England. I came on board even at the instigation of the captain, who told me he had orders from the government to receive me and my suite, and conduct me to England, if agreeable to me. I presented myself with good faith, to put myself under the protection of the English laws. As soon as I was on board the Bellerophon, I was under shelter of the British people.

"If the government, in giving orders to the captain of the Bellerophon to receive me, as well as my suite, only intended to LAY A SNARE FOR ME, it has forfeited its honour and disgraced its flag.

"If this act be consummated, the English will in vain boast to Europe of their integrity, their laws,

[[60]]and their liberty. British good faith will be lost in the hospitality of the Bellerophon.

"I appeal to history; it will say that an enemy, who for twenty years waged war against the English people, came voluntarily, in his misfortunes, to seek an asylum under their laws. What more brilliant proof could he give of his esteem and his confidence? But what return did England make for so much magnanimity? They feigned to stretch forth a friendly hand to that enemy; and when he delivered himself up in good faith, they sacrificed him.

(Signed) "Napoleon."

Napoleon, however, acquitted the English PEOPLE of any participation in this crime, and said, "We must not judge of the character of a people by the conduct of their government."

Europe should understand how little the English people are implicated in the crimes of their king or his ministers. The PEOPLE did not vote millions after millions for a crusade against French and American liberty. They did not commission a Wellington to interfere in the re-enthronement of a Bourbon; they did not depute a Castlereagh to dictate the slavery of Saxony and Genoa; nor should they be charged with the gross injustice, dastardly inurbanity, and forcible imprisonment of the greatest man and the most magnificent monarch of modern or ancient times,—of a man whose mental superiority was honourable to human nature, and which threw into utter darkness the abilities of every other sovereign!

[[61]]British annals have, indeed, been stained by many a dark and unsightly spot; our volumes will exhibit divers foul and desperate deeds in the domestic history of the last two kings: but never was an act more nationally disgraceful than the banishment of Napoleon to St. Helena! He was never accountable to England, much less to the English boroughmongers, for his political conduct. He had been the general, the first consul, and the emperor of the French. He arose amidst the storms of the revolution; he was (as he himself felt and said) the "sword-arm of the republic," with which it chastised and humbled to the dust the accursed confederacy of despots who had endeavoured to rivet an old, worn-out, oppressive, and rejected dynasty on thirty millions of Frenchmen. He conquered at first by the help of that flame of liberty which raged with a fierceness proportioned to its long suppression; and, latterly, having raised himself above his contemporaries by his powerful genius, he was made emperor by his countrymen and fellow-soldiers, partly because a large portion of the people, weary of the violent fluctuations of an ill-constituted democracy, desired the repose even of absolute government, and partly because he was looked upon as the fittest instrument for foreign conquest, which had become a favourite habit, though originating in an absolute necessity. Never let it be forgotten, that he was chosen first consul for life (a distinction used only for the sake of republican appearances, and known to mean king all over Europe) by the votes of

[[62]]the French people at large! The question was submitted to them in the separate departments; all voted that took interest in the affirmative or the negative; and the result was, his election by more than 3,500,000 voices against 374! Can the House of Hanover say as much for their succession to the throne of the Stuarts? Napoleon was not only the elected sovereign of the French people, but he was acknowledged in that capacity by all his enemies. As first consul, the allies, including England, made the treaty of Amiens with him. As emperor, the Continental sovereigns not only often acknowledged, but flattered, and bowed to the earth before him; and this country, at the least, negotiated with him for peace. Whence, then, arose Lord Castlereagh's right to treat him as an offender amenable to England? When, by a marvellous succession of ill-fortune, he fell from his towering height, and left for ever his post at the head of the French government, he became a private individual; and this country had no more business to interfere with his personal freedom than with that of Marshal Soult, or any other of the military men who had equally sought to crush us. Some canting and arrogant people talked of his crimes—his tyranny—his unjust aggressions in Spain and elsewhere. But we deny that Napoleon was a tyrant. After his return from Elba, he wished to be at peace with all mankind, and to devote the remainder of his days to increase the happiness and prosperity of his people. Which of his enemies could say as much? We quote the

[[63]]following letter in justification of what we here advance, which the emperor addressed to all the sovereigns of Europe:

"Paris, April 4, 1815.

"Sires, my Brothers,—You have no doubt learnt in the course of the last month my return to France, my entrance into Paris, and the departure of the family of the Bourbons. The true nature of those events must now be made known to your majesties. They are the results of an irresistible power,—the results of the unanimous wish of a great nation, which knows its duties and its rights. The dynasty which force had given to the French people was not fitted for it; the Bourbons neither associated with the national sentiments nor manners; France has therefore separated herself from them; her voice called for a liberator. The hopes which induced me to make the greatest sacrifice for her have been deceived; I came, and, from the spot where I first set my foot, the love of my people has borne me into the heart of my capital. The first wish of my heart is to repay so much affection by the maintenance of an honourable peace. The restoration of the imperial throne was necessary for the happiness of the French people. It is my sincere desire to render it at the same time subservient to the maintenance of the repose of Europe. Enough of glory has shone by turns on the colours of the various nations. The vicissitudes of fortune have often enough occasioned great reverse, followed by great success; a more brilliant arena is now open to sovereigns, and I am the first to descend into it. After having presented to the world the spectacles of great battles, it will now be more delightful to know no other rivalship in future but that resulting from the advantages of peace, and no other struggle but the sacred one of felicity for our people. France has been pleased to proclaim with candour this noble object of her unanimous wish. Jealous of her independence, the invariable principle of her policy will be the most rigid respect for the independence of other nations. If such then (as I trust they are) are the personal sentiments of your majesties, general tranquillity is secured for a long time to come, and Justice, seated on the confines of the various states, will of herself be sufficient to guard the frontiers.

"I am, &c.

"Napoleon."

If further proof be needed against his being a

[[64]]tyrant, it may be found in the following extracts from the Additional Act to the Constitution of the Empire of France, 1815:

"Rights of Citizens.—All Frenchmen are equal in the eye of the law, whether as contributors to the public taxes and imposts, or as to admission to civil and military employments. No one can be prosecuted, arrested, imprisoned, or exiled, except according to the forms prescribed by the law.

"Liberty of worship is granted to all.

"Every citizen has the right of printing and publishing his thoughts (signing his name) without any previous censorship, and subject only to legal responsibility after the publication, by the verdict of juries, even where there should be no occasion but for a correctional penalty. The right of petitioning is secured to all citizens. Every petition is individual.

"The French people declare moreover that, in the delegation which they have made, and which they shall make, of their powers, they have not intended to give, nor do they give, the right of proposing the re-establishment of the Bourbons, or any prince of that family, upon the throne, even in case of the extinction of the imperial dynasty; nor the right of re-establishing either the ancient feudal nobility, or the feudal and signorial privileges or titles, or any privileged and dominant worship; nor the power of making any attempt upon the irrevocability of the sale of the national domains: they formally interdict to the government, the chambers, and the citizens all propositions to that effect.

"Done at Paris the 20th of April, 1815.

(Signed) "Napoleon.

"The Duke of Bassano."

Nothing but their own love of tyranny, therefore, could induce these sovereigns to wage war against a happy people, like the people of France. But Napoleon's virtues were too luminous for their dim eyes to look upon. The abolition of the slave-trade ought to be held in everlasting remembrance by all the friends of justice and humanity.

[[65]]"IMPERIAL DECREE.

"Napoleon, Emperor of the French. We have decreed, and do decree, as follows:

"Art. 1.—From the date of the publication of the present decree, the trade in negroes is abolished. No expedition shall be allowed for this commerce, neither in the ports of France nor in those of our colonies.

"Art. 2.—There shall not be introduced to be sold in our colonies any negro, the produce of this trade, whether French or foreign.

"Art. 3.—Any infraction of this decree shall be punished with the confiscation of the ship and cargo, which shall be pronounced by our courts and tribunals.

"Art. 4.—However, the ship-owners who, before the publication of the present decree, shall have fitted out expeditions for the trade may sell the produce in our colonies.

"Our ministers are charged with the execution of the present decree.

(Signed) "Napoleon.

"The Duke of Bassano."

Beside these noble examples of good government, many other advantages were bestowed on the French people by their emperor. Their "Code Napoleon," their "Legion of Honour," their "Central Schools," their new roads, bridges, and canals, will be lasting evidences of the gigantic powers of his mind, and of his sincere desire to serve his country, and render himself worthy of the exalted station to which he had been called by her gratitude for his pre-eminent military services. Had Napoleon bounded his ambition to the glory of ruling France upon free and liberal principles, it had been happy for himself, his relations, and his country; but to talk of his foreign despotism, and his carrying tyranny to where,

[[66]]in fact, he found tyranny,—tyranny the most rank and inveterate,—is to use the language of folly or of knavery, and to merit the contempt of every thinking mind.

But if it be even allowed that Napoleon was all that his enemies would make him, where did our ministers get the unheard-of privilege of setting themselves up as cosmopolite censors? By what right did the British government constitute itself a tribunal to judge and punish, in the last resort, delinquent monarchs? Could it by any reasoning have made out a claim to that office, was it just or decent to make a victim of one,—a man of unquestioned talent and greatness of soul,—and at the same moment to compliment and make alliances with all the worse tyrants, the maudlin hypocrites, and base violaters of their word? Or did these moral Quixotes and immaculate judges only profess to "do justice" upon one sinner "against the spirit of the age,"—and that one a fallen enemy?

The only plausible pretence for the treatment of the abdicated emperor was—that his surpassing genius, and his great hold on the military part of the French character, rendered him a necessary exception to the rule regarding prisoners of war, and made it indispensable to the safety and repose of the world, that he should be prevented from appearing again on the grand stage of European politics. This is confessedly on the dangerous plan of doing positive injustice for the sake of what the doers think safe and necessary. But we deny the necessity. We say the

[[67]]argument is built on utter ignorance of human nature, and a wilful blindness to all history and experience. Napoleon was grand in his views, because he admired and loved greatness for its own sake. He never sullied his conquests by partitioning and dividing the conquered. He could afford not to weaken his enemies by petty violations of national integrity. He encouraged every thing liberal and noble, which did not at the same time interfere with his personal authority. He cherished literature, art, and science; and they, in return, reflected true glory upon him. He never insulted and mocked mankind by pretending an eternal right in himself and his successors to trample them under his feet, because he was an emperor. He had always a respect for liberty, though he so often forgot it in his greater eagerness for power. He never laid claim to holiness, but acknowledged himself, in his proudest moments, sovereign, "by the constitutions of the empire." He was not vindictive; his long military rule was never sullied by any act which could be compared in infamy with the imprisonment of the unfortunate Trenck by that Prussian Frederick, whom the legitimate abusers of Napoleon call "the Great." The prominent fault of his career as a leader of a new and revolutionary period, was that, instead of looking forward, he looked backward, and became an imitator instead of an original. He evidently had the glories of former ages strongly in his view; and was to be a great conqueror, not because the times wanted him, but because there are medals and

[[68]]statues in the world, and dynasties were founded by Cæsar. In the height of his prosperity, he was a Charlemagne—another "Emperor of the West;" and, in his adversity, he forgot the Prince Regent of England so far as to talk to him of Themistocles[68:A]. And yet there was a romance even in this, which set him above all ordinary conquerors. He had the poetry, as well as the prose, of the military art about him. He would never have sunk into a mere lounger and man of pleasure, or stood behind any commonplace man with a gold stick in his hand.

As a soldier, his military career has never been surpassed in brilliancy. Quick, active, decisive, he never paused in the vigorous and persevering execution of the plans which his genius prompted him to undertake. He introduced a new, high, and successful mode of conquest, by striking immediately at the centre of armies and countries; and he was finally overthrown, both as general and sovereign, not because his individual antagonists were greater, but because the very physical remains of old English liberty were greater, and because public

[[69]]opinion was greater than all. He possessed, in an eminent degree, the great art of estimating and working upon the characters of his adversaries, and the still greater art of gaining the affections of his soldiers, who were always passionately fond of him, and who at this day adore his memory.

As a prince and a conqueror, his master-passion was a restless ambition, the impetuous tide of which bore him onward to his ends through many signal acts of injustice and violence. We shall not dwell upon them: there has been plenty of "envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness," to ring the changes on his worst deeds, and an abundance of those feelings, we find, survive the object that particularly roused them. Neither shall we indulge in uselessly regretting the good he failed to do, or in reproaching him with the want of moderation and wisdom. Our business is with the illustrious soldier as he was, not as he might have been without his defects:

"His warlike mind, his soul devoid of fear;
His high-designing thoughts were figured there."

His character was spoilt, or at least not adapted to the purposes of freedom, by a military education. The Bourbons brought him up at one of their military schools, where his head was filled with Cæsar and Alexander, and then complained of him for his ambition: that is to say, the legitimate monarchs will let you be as ambitious and warlike as you please, provided you assist their ambition and

[[70]]wars; but if not, you are a blood-thirsty conqueror and a tyrant. Some writers have attempted to confound, on this occasion, ambition with mere ordinary selfishness. This is paltry and ridiculous. Napoleon was never so cool as when contemplating eminent success. Those who have carried him the news of victory have frequently supposed that he had learnt it before, or that he did not credit them. It warmed no feature of his countenance; it lit up no additional lustre in his eye. Yet this was not indifference; he had acquired a habit of subduing the ordinary emotions of mankind. Defeat and error certainly enraged him towards those who contributed to such mortifications; but they never had power to hurry him into any efforts to repair disaster. His intemperance never extended itself to his plans or resources, as a general. Let us look to the course of his feelings when the thunderbolt of his fortune was expended at Moscow. He had recourse to no dribbling efforts on which to hang the flame of military hope. He negotiated the plan of his retreat with all the precision of an attorney, who leaves nothing unprovided for. Trifles alone disturbed Napoleon. The offence of an inattention on the part of an attendant would make him angry; but if the world had burst asunder, and only left him a place to stand upon, he would have regarded it through his eye-glass as an experiment in natural philosophy!

Had Napoleon lived in times of less turbulence, he would have been a still greater statesman than a warrior. It is a fact not to be disputed, that it was

[[71]]this great man who definitively freed the entire Continent of Europe from that democratic mania, of all other tyrannies the most cruel, savage, and unrelenting, and which was in full, though less rapid, progress when he, by accepting the diadem of France, restored the principles of monarchy to its vigour, and, at one blow, overturned the many-headed monster of revolution. To attain this beneficial end, HE SPILT NO BLOOD! The decapitation of Louis, in which he could have had no concern, completely overwhelmed the Bourbon dynasty; but Napoleon, in one single day, re-established that monarchial form of government which the imbecile ministers of England had, with so much expense of human life and treasure, been for many years unsuccessfully attempting to restore!

One of Napoleon's greatest admirers was Mr. Fox, who, speaking of him one day, said, "If we even shut our eyes on the martial deeds of this great man, we must allow that his eloquence alone has elevated the French people to a higher degree of civilization than any other nation in Europe,—they have advanced a century during the last five years. Bonaparte combines the declamation of a Cicero with the soul-stirring philippicks of a Demosthenes; he appeals to the head and the heart, to honour and to self-interest, at the same time. Had this wonderful man turned his attention to poetry, instead of war, he would have beaten Homer out of the field! Whatever his manner of delivery may be, and I understand it is impressive, he is certainly the

[[72]]greatest orator that the world ever produced. The soaring grandeur of his conceptions is admirable, and his adaptation of the deeds and sayings of the heroes and statesmen of ancient times to present circumstances, not only shows the extent of his reading and the correctness of his taste in their application, but also serves to assure the French people that he is as capable of governing as he has proved himself to be in leading them forth to conquest. But it is in his power of simplification that he shines most; although as romantic as Ossian, he disdains all rodomontade and circumlocution; and, by stripping his subject of all extraneous matter, he reduces the most complex proposition down to the laconic simplicity of a self-evident axiom."

What, then, are we to think of a British minister, who could violate his most sacred pledges of protection to a man of this exalted description? But Lord Castlereagh's mind was not capable of estimating the worth and talents of Napoleon, and the mean expedient to which his lordship resorted to gain possession of the emperor's person will ever reflect the greatest possible disgrace upon his character, both as a man and a minister. The petty, vexatious, and unjustifiable conduct, to which the Emperor Napoleon was afterwards subjected at St. Helena, was equal in meanness to his capture. When the emperor quitted the Bellerophon, on the 8th of August, the officers and ship's company were in consternation; they felt implicated in the shame and the injustice of such a procedure. Napoleon traversed

[[73]]the deck to descend into the sloop, with calmness and a smile upon his lips, having at his side Admiral Keith. He stopped before Captain Maitland, charged him to testify his satisfaction to the officers and crew of the Bellerophon, and, seeing him extremely grieved, said to him, by way of consolation, "Posterity cannot, in any way, accuse you for what is taking place; you have been deceived as well as myself." Napoleon enjoyed, during twenty-four days, the protection of the British flag; he sojourned in the inner roads of Torbay and Plymouth; and it was not until after that lapse of time, on the 8th of August, when passing on board the Northumberland, that Admiral Keith disarmed the French,—the delivering up of arms being one of the characteristics of prisoners of war. The arms of the emperor, however, were not demanded.

It would be unnecessary to give a copy of the "official" regulations, which Lord Castlereagh ordered to be observed towards the illustrious Napoleon; their tyrannical operation will be made manifest in the following correspondence:

LETTER FROM COUNT MONTHOLON TO THE
GOVERNOR, SIR HUDSON LOWE.

"Longwood, 23rd August, 1816.

"General,

"I have received the treaty of the 2nd August, 1815, concluded between his Britannic Majesty, the Emperor of Austria, the Emperor of Russia,

[[74]]and the King of Prussia, which was annexed to your letter of the 23rd July.

"The Emperor Napoleon protests against the contents of that treaty. He is not the prisoner of England: after having abdicated, into the hands of the representatives of the nation, for the advantage of the constitution adopted by the French people, and in favour of his son, he repaired voluntarily and freely to England, to live there as a private individual, in retirement, under the protection of the British laws. The violation of all laws cannot constitute a right; in point of fact, the person of the Emperor Napoleon is in the power of England; but in fact, and of right, he has not been and is not in the power of Austria, Russia, and Prussia, even according to the laws and customs of England, who never admitted into the balance, in the exchange of prisoners, the Russians, the Austrians, the Prussians, the Spaniards, the Portuguese, although she was united to those powers by treaties of alliance, and made war conjointly with them. The convention of the 2nd August, made fifteen days after the Emperor Napoleon was in England, cannot, of right, have any effect; it exhibits only a spectacle of a coalition of the four great powers of Europe for the oppression of a SINGLE MAN!—a coalition disclaimed by the opinion of all people, and at variance with all the principles of sound morality. The Emperors of Austria and of Russia, and the King of Prussia, not having, either in fact or of right, any controul over the person of the Emperor Napoleon, they have had

[[75]]no power to decree any thing concerning him. If the Emperor Napoleon had been in the power of the Emperor of Austria, that prince would have recollected the relations which religion and nature have placed between a father and a son,—relations which are never violated with impunity. He would have recollected, that Napoleon has four times restored him to his throne: at Leoben, in 1797, and at Luneville, in 1801, when his armies were under the walls of Vienna; at Presburg, in 1806, and at Vienna, in 1809, when his armies were masters of the capital, and of three-fourths of the monarchy. That prince would have recollected the protestations which he made to him at the bivouac of Moravia, in 1806, and at the interviews at Dresden, in 1812. If the person of the Emperor Napoleon had been in the power of the Emperor Alexander, he would have called to mind the bonds of friendship contracted at Tilsit, at Erfurt, and during twelve years of daily intercourse. He would have remembered the conduct of the Emperor Napoleon on the day after the battle of Austerlitz, when, having it in his power to make him prisoner with the wreck of his army, he contented himself with his parole, and suffered him to operate his retreat. He would have called to mind the dangers which the Emperor Napoleon personally braved to extinguish the conflagration of Moscow, and preserve to him that capital. Certainly, that prince would not have violated the duties of friendship and gratitude towards a friend in misfortune. If the person of the Emperor

[[76]]Napoleon had even been in the power of the King of Prussia, that sovereign would not have forgotten, that it depended on the emperor, after the day of Friedland, to place another prince on the throne of Berlin; he would not have forgotten, in the presence of a disarmed enemy, the protestations of devotedness and the sentiments which he expressed to him in 1812, at the interviews of Dresden. Accordingly, it is obvious in the Articles 2 and 9 of the said treaty of the 2nd August, that, being unable in any way to influence the fate of the Emperor Napoleon's person, which is not in their power, those same persons agree to what shall be done thereon by the King of Great Britain, who undertakes to fulfil all obligations. These princes have reproached the Emperor Napoleon with having preferred the protection of the English laws to their protection. The false notions which the Emperor Napoleon had of the English laws, and of the influence which the opinion of a great, generous, and free people had on their government, induced him to prefer the protection of their laws to that of his father-in-law, or his old friend. The Emperor Napoleon was ever competent to ensure what concerned him personally, by a diplomatic treaty, either by replacing himself at the head of the army of the Loire, or by placing himself at the head of the army of the Gironde, which General Claus commanded. But, seeking thenceforward only retirement, and the protection of the laws of a free nation, either English or American, all stipulations appeared to him

[[77]]unnecessary. He thought the English would be more bound by his frank, noble, and confident procedure, than they would have been by the most solemn treaties. He was mistaken. But this error will always make true Britons blush; and, both in the present and in future generations, it will be a proof of the faithlessness of the English administration. An Austrian and a Russian commissioner have arrived at St. Helena. If the object of their mission be the fulfilment of the duties which the Emperors of Austria and Russia contracted by the treaty of the 2nd of August, and to see that the English agents, in a small colony, in the midst of the ocean, do not fail in the attentions due to a prince, bound to them by the ties of kindred and by so many other relations, there may be recognised in this procedure some characteristics of those sovereigns. But you, sir, have affirmed that those commissioners had neither the right nor the power to form any opinion as to whatever takes place on this rock.

"The English ministry have caused the Emperor Napoleon to be transported to St. Helena, 2000 leagues from Europe. This rock is situated in the tropic, 900 leagues from any continent; it is subject to the consuming heats of this latitude; it is covered with clouds and fogs during three quarters of the year; it is at once the driest and the most humid country in the world; such a climate is most adverse to the emperor's health. It was hatred that dictated the choice of this abode, as well as the instructions given by the English ministry to the

[[78]]officers commanding at this place. They have been ordered to call the Emperor Napoleon, 'General,' wishing to oblige him to acknowledge that he has never reigned in France; and this has determined him not to assume a name of incognito, as he had resolved to do on quitting France. As first magistrate, for life, of the republic, he concluded the preliminaries of London and the treaty of Amiens with the King of Great Britain; he received, as ambassadors, Lord Cornwallis, Mr. Merry, and Lord Whitworth, who sojourned in this quality at his court. He accredited to the King of England Count Otto and General Andreossy, who resided as ambassadors at the court of Windsor. When, after an interchange of letters between the two administrations of foreign affairs, Lord Lauderdale came to Paris, invested with full powers from the King of England, he treated with plenipotentiaries invested with full powers from the Emperor Napoleon, and sojourned several months at the court of the Thuilleries. When, subsequently, at Chatillon, Lord Castlereagh signed the ultimatum which the allied powers presented to the plenipotentiaries of the Emperor Napoleon, he thereby recognised the fourth dynasty. That ultimatum was more advantageous than the treaty of Paris; but it was demanded that France should renounce Belgium and the left bank of the Rhine, which was contrary to the propositions of Frankfort, and to the proclamations of the allied powers, which was contrary also to the oath by which at his coronation the emperor had sworn to the

[[79]]integrity of the empire. The emperor then thought that the natural limits were necessary to the guarantee of France, and to the equilibrium of Europe. He thought that the French nation, in their then existing circumstances, ought rather to incur all the chances of war than to depart from them. France would have obtained that integrity, and with it preserved her honour, if TREASON had not come to the aid of the allies.

"The treaty of the 2nd August and the British bill in parliament call the emperor, 'Napoleon Bonaparte,' and do not give him the title of general. The title of General Bonaparte is doubtless eminently glorious; the emperor bore it at Lodi, at Castiglione, at Rivoli, at Arcola, at Leoben, at the Pyramids, at Aboukir; but for seventeen years he has borne that of first consul and of emperor. It would be to allow that he has not been either first magistrate of the republic, or sovereign of the fourth dynasty. Those who think that nations are mere flocks, which belong, by divine right, to certain families, are not in the spirit of the age, nor even in that of the English legislature, which several times changed the order of its dynasty, because great changes that had taken place in opinions, in which the reigning princes did not participate, had rendered them inimical to the welfare and to a great majority of that nation. For kings are only hereditary magistrates, who exist but for the welfare of nations, and not nations for the satisfaction of kings. It was the same spirit of

[[80]]hatred which ordained that 'the Emperor Napoleon should not write or receive any letter, unless it was opened and read by the English ministers and the officers of St. Helena.' He has thus been denied the possibility of receiving news from his mother, his wife, his son, his brothers; and when, desirous of avoiding the inconvenience of seeing his letters read by subaltern officers, he wished to send letters sealed to the Prince Regent, the answer was, that they could only undertake to let open letters pass; that 'such were the instructions of the ministry.' This measure needs not be reflected on; it will give strange ideas of the spirit of the administration which dictated it; it would even be disclaimed at Algiers! Letters have arrived for general officers of the emperor's suite; they were unsealed, and were remitted to you; you did not communicate them, because they had not passed through the channel of the English ministry. It was necessary to make them travel over again 4000 leagues, and those officers had the pain of knowing that there existed on this rock, news from a wife, a mother, children, which they were not to know for six months. The heart rises at this!! We were not allowed to subscribe for the Morning Chronicle, the Morning Post, and some French journals. Some odd numbers of the Times were now and then sent to Longwood. Upon the demand made on board the Northumberland, some books were sent, but all those relative to transactions of late years were carefully withheld. It was afterwards wished to correspond with a

[[81]]London bookseller, in order to have direct means of obtaining some books that were wanted, and those which related to the events of the day: this was prevented. An English author having performed a voyage in France, and having printed it in London, took the trouble to send it you, that it might be offered to the emperor; but you did not think yourself empowered to transmit it to him, because it had not come to you by the channel of your government. It is also said that other books sent by their authors could not be transmitted, because on the title page of some were the words 'To the Emperor Napoleon,' and on others 'To Napoleon the Great.' The English ministry are not authorized to order any of these vexations; the law of the British parliament, though iniquitous, considers the Emperor Napoleon as a prisoner of war; and prisoners of war have never been forbidden to subscribe for journals, or to receive books which are printed. Such a prohibition is made only in the dungeons of the inquisition.

"The isle of St. Helena is ten leagues in circumference; it is inaccessible on all sides; the coast is surrounded by some brigs, and there are posts placed on its verge within sight of each other, which render all communication with the sea impracticable. There is only one small village, James Town, where vessels arrive and depart. To prevent an individual from quitting the island, it is sufficient to guard the coast by sea and land. In interdicting the interior of the island, therefore, there can only be one

[[82]]object, that of excluding an easy ride of eight or ten miles, which exclusion, in the opinion of professional men, is shortening the life of the emperor.

"The emperor has been established at Longwood, a site exposed to all winds, a sterile tract, uninhabited, destitute of water, unsusceptible of any culture. There is a precinct of about 1200 toises uncultivated; at the distance of 300 or 400 toises, upon a peak, they have established a camp; another has just been placed about the same distance, in the opposite direction; so that, amidst the tropic heats, on whatever side we turn, we behold nothing but camps. Admiral Malcolm, having conceived how useful a tent would be to the emperor in such a situation, has caused one to be pitched by his sailors, twenty paces in front of the house; this is the only place where any shade can be found. However, the emperor has no reason but to be satisfied with the spirit which animates the officers and soldiers of the brave 53rd., as he also was with the crew of the Northumberland. Longwood House was built to serve as a barn for the Company's farm; subsequently, the lieutenant-governor of the island had some rooms fitted up there; it served him as a country-house, but it had none of the conveniencies of a dwelling. For a year past, men have been constantly at work there, and the emperor has been continually exposed to the inconvenience and insalubrity of inhabiting a house in a state of building. The room in which he sleeps is too small to contain a bed of ordinary dimensions: but every addition to Longwood House would

[[83]]prolong the annoyance of the workmen's attendance. Yet in this miserable island there are beautiful spots, presenting fine trees, gardens, and pretty good houses, Plantation House among others; but the positive instructions of the ministry prohibit you from giving that house, which might have spared much expense from your treasure, expense employed in building at Longwood some cottages covered with pitched paper, which are already out of repair. You have forbidden all correspondence between us and the inhabitants of the isle; you have in fact placed the house of Longwood in a state of exclusion; you have even fettered the communications of the officers of the garrison. It seems to have been a study to deprive us of the few resources which this miserable country affords, and we are here as we should be on the uncultivated and uninhabited rock of Ascension. During the four months that you, Sir, have been at St. Helena, you have deteriorated the situation of the emperor. Count Bertrand observed to you, that you were violating even the law of your legislature; that you were trampling under foot the rights of general officers, prisoners of war: you answered, that you recognised only the letter of your instructions, that they were worse even than your conduct appeared to us.

"I have the honour to be, General,

"Your very humble and obedient Servant,

(Signed) "The General C^te. De Montholon."

"P.S. I had signed this letter, Sir, when I

[[84]]received your's of the 17th. You annex to it an estimate of an annual sum of twenty thousand pounds sterling, which you deem indispensable to meet the expenditure of the establishment at Longwood, after all the reductions have been made which you have judged practicable. The discussion of this statement cannot in any manner concern us. The emperor's table is scarcely what is strictly necessary; all the provisions are of bad quality, and four times dearer than at Paris. You ask of the emperor a fund of twelve thousand pounds sterling, your government allowing you only eight thousand pounds sterling, for all these expenses. I have had the honour to tell you that the emperor had no funds; that for a year past he had not received or written any letter; and that he was in complete ignorance as to what is passing or may have been passing in Europe. Transported by violence to this rock, 2000 leagues distant, without the power of receiving or writing any letter, he now remains entirely at the discretion of the English agents. The emperor has always desired, and does desire, to defray all expenses whatever himself; and he will do so as soon as you will make it possible for him, by removing the prohibition imposed on the merchants of the island, of forwarding his correspondence, and by consenting that it shall not be subject to any inquisition by you or any of your agents. As soon as the wants of the emperor shall be known in Europe, the persons who are interested concerning him will send the necessary funds for supplying them.

[[85]]"The letter of Lord Bathurst, which you have communicated to me, gives rise to some strange ideas. Were your ministers then ignorant that the spectacle of a great man struggling with adversity is the sublimest of spectacles? Were they ignorant that Napoleon at St. Helena, amidst persecutions of all kinds, which he confronts only with serenity, is greater, more sacred, more venerable, than on the first throne in the world, where he was so long the arbiter of kings? Those who in this position are wanting in what is due to Napoleon, vilify only their own character, and the nation which they represent.

(Signed) "The Gen. C^te. De Montholon."

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME.

"Longwood, 9th September, 1816.

"General,

"I have received your two letters of the 30th August; there is one of them which I have not communicated. Count Bertrand and myself have had the honour of telling you several times, that we could not take charge of any thing which would be contrary to the august character of the emperor. You know better than any one, Sir, how many letters have been sent from the post-office to Plantation House; you have forgotten that, upon the representations which we have made to you repeatedly, you answered, that your instructions obliged you to let nothing go to Longwood, either letter,

[[86]]book, or pamphlet, unless those articles had passed the scrutiny of your government. The lieutenant of the Newcastle having been the bearer of a letter to Count Lascases, you kept that letter, but the officer deeming his delicacy compromised, you transmitted it thirty days after it had reached this island, &c. We are sure that our families and our friends write to us often; hitherto we have received very few of their letters. But it is by virtue of the same principle, that you this day disavow that you have retained the books and pamphlets that have been addressed to you, and yet you keep them.

"Your second letter of the 30th August, Sir, is no answer to that which I had the honour to write to you, to remonstrate against the changes effected by you in the course of that month, and which demolish all the basis of our establishment in this country.

"1. 'There is no part of my written instructions more definite, or to which my attention is more pointedly called, than that no person whatever should hold any communication with (the emperor) except through my agency.' You give a Judaical interpretation to your instructions; there is nothing in them which justifies or authorizes your conduct. Those instructions your predecessor had; you had them for three months previous to the changes which you effected a month ago. In short, it was not difficult for you to reconcile your different duties.

"2. 'I have already acquainted (the emperor) personally of this.'

[[87]]"3. 'In addressing all strangers and other persons, except those whose duty might lead them to Longwood, in the first instance to Count Bertrand, (or asking myself) to ascertain whether (the emperor) would receive their visit, and in not giving passes, except to such persons as had ascertained this point, or were directed to do it, I conceive,' &c.

"4. 'It is not, Sir, in my power to extend such privilege, as you require, to Count Bertrand,' &c.

"I am obliged to declare to you, Sir, 1st, That you have communicated nothing to the emperor. 2nd. For more than two months you have had no communication with Count Bertrand. 3rd. We require of you no privilege for Count Bertrand, since I only ask a continuation of that state of things which existed for nine months.

"5. 'I regret to learn that (the emperor) has been incommoded with the visits,' &c. This is bitter irony.

"Instead of endeavouring to reconcile your different duties, Sir, you seemed determined to persist in a system of continual vexations. Will this do honour to your character? Will it merit the approbation of your government and your nation? Permit me to doubt it.

"Several general officers, who arrived in the Cornwallis, desired to be presented at Longwood. If you had referred them to Count Bertrand, as you had hitherto referred all strangers presenting themselves in the island, they would have been received. You have doubtless your reasons for preventing

[[88]]persons of some distinction from coming to Longwood; allege, if you choose, as you commonly do, the tenour of your instructions; but do not misrepresent the intentions of the emperor.

"The younger Lascases and Capt. Pionkowski were yesterday in the town. An English lieutenant accompanied them thither, and then, conformably to orders existing until that day, left them at liberty to go and see what persons they wished. Whilst young Lascases was talking with some young ladies, the officer came, and, with extreme pain at being charged with so disagreeable a commission, declared that your orders were not to lose sight of him. This is contrary to what has taken place heretofore. It would, I think, be proper that you should make known to us the changes you are effecting. This is forbidding us every visit to town, and thus violating your instructions[88:A]. Yet you know that scarcely one

[[89]]of the persons at Longwood goes to the town once a month, and there is no circumstance which can authorize you to change the established order. This

[[90]]is carrying persecution very far! I cannot conceive what has occasioned your letter of the 8th of September; I refer, Sir, to the postscript of my letter of the 23rd August. The emperor is ill, in consequence of the bad climate and privations of all kinds, and I have not made known to him all the fastidious details that have been made to me on your part. All this has been going on for two months, and should have been terminated long ago, as the postscript of my letter of the 23rd August is explicit. It is now high time that the thing should be ended; but it appears to be a text from which to insult us.

"I have the honour to be, General,

"Your very humble and obedient servant,

(Signed) "The Gen. C^te. De Montholon."

Count Lascases also felt so indignant at the treatment which his noble master experienced, that he reproached the governor, in no very measured terms, with his want of common humanity, and boldly asked him, "Do you or do you not wish to kill the emperor?" For this, and writing complaints to his friends, all his private papers were seized, and himself dismissed the island. The following farewell letter was written to him, on this occasion, by the emperor:

"My dear Count Lascases

"My heart sensibly feels what you endure; torn away fifteen days ago from my presence, you were

[[91]]shut up during that period in secret, without my being able to receive, or give you, any news, without your having communicated with any one, French or English; deprived even of the servant of your choice.

"Your conduct at St. Helena has been, like your life, honourable, and without reproach: I love to tell you so.

"Your letter to one of your friends, a lady in London, has nothing in it that is reprehensible; you there pour forth your whole heart into the bosom of friendship. That letter is like eight or ten others, which you have written to the same person, and which you have sent unsealed. The commandant of this place, having had the delicacy to sift out the expressions which you confide to friendship, has reproached you with them. Latterly he threatened to send you away from the island, if your letters contained any more complaints against him. He has, by so doing, violated the first duty of his place, the first article of his instructions, and the first sentiment of honour. He has thus authorized you to seek the means of conveying the effusions of your feelings to the bosom of your friends, and of acquainting them with the culpable conduct of the commandant. But you have been very artless: it has been very easy to take your confidence by surprise.

"They were waiting for a pretext to seize your papers; but your letter to your London friend could not authorize a police visit to you; for it

[[92]]contains no plot, no mystery; it is simply the expression of a noble and frank heart. The illegal and precipitate conduct pursued on this occasion bears the stamp of a very base personal hatred.

"In countries the least civilized, exiles, prisoners, and even criminals, are under the protection of the laws, and of the magistrates. The persons appointed to guard them have chiefs, either in the administrative or judicial order, who superintend them. Upon this rock, the man who makes the most absurd regulations executes them with violence, transgresses all laws, and there is no one to restrain the excesses of his temper.

"They envelop Longwood with a mystery, which they would wish to render impenetrable, in order to conceal a criminal conduct; and this leaves room for suspecting the most criminal intentions!!

"By some rumours artfully spread, it was wished to mislead the officers, strangers, inhabitants, and even the agents who are said to be maintained by Austria and Russia in this place; doubtless, the English government is deceived in the same way by adroit and fallacious statements.

"Your papers, among which it was known that there were some belonging to me, have been seized without any formality, near my apartment, with a marked and ferocious exultation. I was apprized of this a few moments afterwards: I looked through the window, and saw that they were taking you away. A numerous staff was parading round the house; I could fancy I saw so many South Sea

[[93]]islanders dancing round the prisoners whom they were going to devour.

"Your society was necessary to me; you alone read, spoke, and understood English. How many nights have you sat up, during my fits of sickness! Yet I enjoin you, and, if need be, I order you, to request the commandant of this place to send you back to the Continent. He cannot refuse that, since he has no controul over you, but by the voluntary act which you have signed. It will be a great consolation to me to know, that you are on your way to more fortunate countries.

"On arriving in Europe, whether you go to England, or return home, dismiss the remembrance of the ills which they have made you suffer; boast of the fidelity which you have shewn me, and of the great affection which I bear you.

"If you should one day see my wife and my son, embrace them. For two years, I have not heard from them, directly or indirectly. There has been for six months in this place a German botanist who saw them in the garden of Schoenbrunn, some months before his departure; the barbarians have carefully prevented him from giving me any news from them.

"My body is in the power of the hatred of my enemies; they forget nothing which can glut their vengeance. They are killing me by inches. But the insalubrity of this devouring climate, the want of every thing that sustains life, will, I feel, put a speedy end to this existence, the last moments of

[[94]]which will be an opprobrium on the English character; and Europe will one day signalize with horror that crafty and wicked man[94:A], whom true Englishmen will disown as a Briton.

"As there is every reason to think, that you will not be permitted to come to see me before your departure, receive my embraces, the assurance of my esteem, and my friendship. Be happy.

(Signed) "Napoleon."

"11th December, 1816."

We might add many other proofs of the inhumanity exercised towards Napoleon, were it necessary to our purpose. Let our readers look over the writings of O'Meara, Lascases[94:B], and numerous other persons now living, both French and English, who bear the most heart-rending testimony to all that was done to torture and to put an end to the life of this great man.

The inhuman conduct pursued towards the captive emperor at length became the subject of parliamentary inquiry. A motion to this effect was introduced to the House of Peers by Lord Holland, in the month of March, 1817. Of the motives by which this noble lord was actuated, it is difficult to

[[95]]award sufficient praise. He declared, "My chief motive in bringing forward this motion is to rescue parliament and the country from the stain that will attach to them, if any harsh or ungenerous treatment has been used towards Napoleon." Such an anxiety for the character of his country was, doubtless, a patriotic and proper motive; but it never ought to claim precedence of the great, permanent, and universal feelings of pity for the unfortunate, which are among the noblest characteristics of our nature. His lordship, therefore, might have insisted more upon the merit of a motive to which, on all occasions, he has shewn himself to be eminently entitled. That the praiseworthy object of Lord Holland's motion was not attained must be matter of deep regret to every man who wishes to maintain the reputation of his country. But the ministers shuffled over the charge by reading partial extracts from those documents which his lordship wished to have produced, while they refused an examination of the entire papers. This, to say the least of it, had a very suspicious appearance. Such a mode of proceeding was contrary to the long-established usages of the House, to the laws of evidence, and to the common course of practice in all investigation; and, however it might answer Lord Castlereagh's purpose, was little calculated to dispel the doubts of impartial inquirers, or to make a satisfactory case to the world and to posterity. What judgment would a foreigner form of this matter, who might have heard the blessings of our happy administration of

[[96]]justice extolled to the skies? A captive, the most illustrious ever classed under that head, complained of the unnecessary rigour of his treatment. A British peer made a motion in parliament to inquire into the truth of these allegations, and for the production of papers connected with and tending to elucidate the subject. The secretary of state contended, that the assertions of the complainant were groundless, read partial extracts from the papers in question, but refused their entire production, and negatived the motion for them, without assigning any sufficient reason. If Lord Castlereagh thought the inference to be drawn from such a garbled statement would be favourable to his cause, he must have built his logic, not upon the REASON of the matter, but upon the VOTES OF HIS PENSIONED ADHERENTS,—a mode of conclusion not at all uncommon or unnatural to this minister. His lordship, indeed, considered his conduct to Napoleon as meritorious, on account of that great man having been the enemy of England! But does it follow that, because the uncertain events of war had placed the French emperor in a situation to claim the protection of our laws as a private individual, that his lordship was justified in betraying his misplaced confidence, or in treating him with the same spirit of hostility when he was a helpless captive, as when he was a powerful general arrayed in arms against the whole of Europe? A doctrine, more repugnant to humanity, more dangerous in its consequences to society, cannot be conceived. From what code of

[[97]]morality, or from what system of religion, did his lordship borrow such a principle? Much has been said of Lord Castlereagh's kindness of heart; but what a dark scroll of evidence does the treatment of Napoleon at St. Helena exhibit against such an assertion! To commiserate a fallen foe, to be moved by the sad spectacle of his fortunes, is the natural propensity and inseparable concomitant of every man possessing "PERSONAL COURAGE," or "KINDNESS OF HEART:"

"The truly brave
Will valorous actions prize,
Respect a great and noble mind,
Albeit in enemies;"

while to oppress an adversary in your power, whether among nations or individuals, is not only considered cowardly, but abject, ungenerous, and savage. There is no circumstance which reflects so much disgrace on the national character of the Romans as their behaviour to Hannibal. The treatment which he received has been stigmatized as an act of complicated meanness, cruelty, and injustice. In modern times, the case of Napoleon seems most closely to resemble that of Hannibal, both in the splendour of his achievements while he was victorious, and in the sad similitude of fortune after his being defeated and betrayed into the hands of his enemies. It is true that Napoleon did not "play the Roman" and kill himself, as Hannibal did[97:A]; but a portion of

[[98]]the words which the Carthaginian general used on that occasion might have been aptly repeated by Napoleon, with merely an alteration of names: "The victory which Flamininus gains over a man, disarmed and betrayed, will not do him much honour. This single day will be a lasting testimony of the great degeneracy of the Romans. They have deputed a person of consular dignity to spirit up Prusias impiously to murder one who is his guest!" It is curious to reflect that, in the annals of the world, the same action, according to circumstances, at one time is a crime,—at another, an act of heroism! The same man is at one time a Claudius,—at another, a Marcus Aurelius. Cataline is but a vile conspirator. If, however, he had been able to found an empire, like Cæsar, he would have been esteemed a benefactor. Our Oliver Cromwell was acknowledged till his last hour, and his protection sought by all sovereigns; but after his death, his body was suspended on a gibbet: he only wanted a son like himself to enable him to form a new dynasty. So long as Napoleon was fortunate, Europe bowed at his footstool, while the first princes thought it an honour to ally themselves with his family, and to obtain his smile was esteemed a favour. As soon, however, as he fell a prey to treachery, it was pretended that he was nothing more than a miserable adventurer, an usurper, without talent and without courage!

But, even allowing that any sufficient argument could have been urged for the detention of

[[99]]Napoleon, surely all restraint beyond what was strictly necessary for the security of his person was unjustifiable, and every species of mortification, not only ungenerous, but absolutely criminal. Lord Castlereagh ought, at least, in giving directions for his custody, to have been particularly circumspect that no real or seeming unkindnesses were exercised against the captive emperor. If the coercive measures adopted were thought necessary, they should have been introduced in a more conciliatory manner, and with every allowance for the irritation and impatience which exile and imprisonment will be sure to produce upon the most apathetic being in creation. But, when we take into consideration the ungentlemanly and ignoble proceedings pursued against Napoleon at St. Helena, can we feel surprised at the bursts of indignation which now and then escaped him at the cowardly conduct of his jailer? That he should have viewed Sir Hudson Lowe as the meanest creature in existence, is not at all to be wondered at; for it appeared as if

"Some demon said, 'Sir Hudson Lowe,
Although we've got the dreaded foe,
Yet here the question pinches:
How shall we crush this mighty man?'
Sir Hudson cried, 'I know the plan;
We'll make him DIE BY INCHES!'"

Neither could Napoleon help considering Lord Castlereagh as the "demon" here alluded to. His lordship had induced him on board a British ship, under the most sacred promises of bringing him

[[100]]over to this country, that he might pass the remainder of his days under the blessings of our so-much-boasted constitution, as being "the envy and admiration of the whole world!" What milder appellation than "demon," therefore, did his lordship deserve, when, violating every principle of hospitality, he took advantage of Napoleon's faith in such promises, and seized upon the opportunity it afforded him of arresting the emperor as a prisoner of war, and of sending him to a barren rock, far from his wife, child, and friends, to be a prey to an unwholesome climate, and the rude insults of a mean and pitiful man like Sir Hudson Lowe!

"Great God of war, and was it so
That Britons crush'd a fallen foe!
Had Wellington been taken,
(And there were chances on that day)
Would Bonaparte have used his sway,
And left him thus forsaken?"

Indeed, there was once a time when this same Lord Castlereagh might have been taken prisoner by Napoleon, which would most probably have been done, if the French emperor had possessed no loftier ideas of justice and honour than his lordship exhibited. This circumstance is related by Mr. O'Meara, in Bonaparte's own words, as follows:

"When Castlereagh was at Chatillon with the ambassadors of the allied powers, after some successes of mine, and when I had, in a manner, invested the town, he was greatly alarmed lest I might seize him and make him prisoner. Not being accredited as an ambassador, nor invested with any diplomatic character to France, I might have taken him as an enemy. He went to Caulincourt, to

[[101]]whom he mentioned that he laboured under considerable apprehensions that I should cause violent hands to be laid upon him, as he acknowledged I had a right to do. It was impossible for him to get away without falling in with my troops. Caulincourt replied, that as far as his opinion went, he would say that I should not meddle with him; but that he could not answer for what I might do. Immediately after, he (Caulincourt) wrote to me what Castlereagh had said, and his answer. I signified to him in reply, that he was to tell Castlereagh to make his mind easy, and stay where he was: that I would consider him as an ambassador. At Chatillon, (continued Bonaparte) when speaking about the liberty enjoyed in England, Castlereagh observed, in a contemptuous manner, that it was not the thing most to be esteemed in England; that it was an USAGE they were obliged to put up with; but that it had become an abuse, and would not answer for other countries."

It will thus be seen that GRATITUDE, at least, ought to have prompted different conduct in Lord Castlereagh towards Napoleon; instead of which, the charges brought against Sir Hudson Lowe by Mr. O'Meara were not only deemed unworthy of inquiry, but his lordship actually dismissed the accuser from the British service. Thus a deserving and generous-minded officer was ruined, without even a hearing, for merely attempting to do an act of justice to the exiled Emperor of France! The charges against Sir Hudson Lowe, however, remained the same, and this summary mode of revenge inflicted on Mr. O'Meara was not at all calculated to acquit Lord Castlereagh from sharing in the accusation of wantonly oppressing Napoleon. Could any thing tend more to criminate his lordship than the sudden punishment of the accuser, while in the act of preferring his complaint? Grant that Mr. O'Meara had misconducted himself, and that he had thus

[[102]]given his employer a right to dismiss him, surely he ought not, in common honesty, to have done so till he had first given him every opportunity of making good his charges. His lordship's readiness to stigmatize, and even silence him, in this manner, wore any appearance but that of an honourable anxiety to meet and to defy his adversary. We cannot devote space sufficient to bring forward the charges of Mr. O'Meara; but the inquirer will find himself amply repaid for his trouble by their perusal. As Sir Hudson Lowe can only be looked upon as a cowardly ruffian, who scrupled not to execute the orders of his superiors in office, however unjust they might be, the real odium of Napoleon's treatment and death must rest upon the government, of which Lord Castlereagh was the most active member. Mr. O'Meara was appointed medical attendant upon the emperor by this government, and his professional ability and private worth have never been questioned. If Lord Castlereagh, therefore, willed not the death of Napoleon, it was his duty to have removed those causes of complaint which Mr. O'Meara emphatically pointed out "would render Bonaparte's PREMATURE DEATH as inevitable as if it were to take place under the hands of the EXECUTIONER!" The public are aware how fatally this prediction was fulfilled; but the whole evidence of Mr. O'Meara would carry conviction to the mind of any man who had not previously determined to disbelieve truth. Indeed, he has been confirmed in many essential points of his statements by the

[[103]]admissions of either the governor's advocates or the governor himself. One of these advocates stated that Mr. O'Meara was discharged for disobeying orders; but of what nature were those orders? The governor wanted him to act as a spy upon the emperor, and to sign false reports of the state of his health! Consequently, Mr. O'Meara did indignantly refuse to perform such a base and cruel service; and what man of honour and principle would not have done the same? A refusal of this kind reflects no disgrace upon Mr. O'Meara, but will rather hand his name down to posterity as one deserving better treatment than he unfortunately experienced.

In contemplating the manifold deprivations to which Napoleon ultimately fell a victim, we cannot help remarking upon one peculiar trait of the human mind,—that of being more moved by fiction than reality; for a tale of imaginary woe will excite more exquisite feeling, more real sympathy, than the severest reverses of fortune which may have occurred in our time, or which may be even present to our view! If Napoleon, for instance, had been an ideal personage, and the history of his life had been made the subject of romance or poetry, what mind so dull but would have moralized upon the vicissitude of human affairs?—what heart so cold but would have felt some commiseration for the captive? But when all that a poet's fancy could have formed and blended of surprising extremes, to raise the interest of the reader in the hero of the tragedy, had

[[104]]actually occurred and been signally manifested in this extraordinary man,—when he, who at one time was raised to an elevation and possessed a power never enjoyed by any other individual, was hurled headlong from his height to the abyss of humiliation, was imprisoned, exiled, captive, and forlorn,—how happened it that the feelings of our nature were not to take their accustomed course, that the sources of sympathy were to be dried up, and compassion, which had hitherto been considered amongst the most amiable of virtues, was all at once to lose its very essence and property, and not only not to be numbered amongst our weaknesses, but catalogued amongst our crimes? For the prevalence of this disposition,—which, alas! was too observable even among those classes in whom education and the intercourse of enlightened society would have naturally led to an expectation of better feelings and sounder conclusions on the subject,—it is difficult to account; unless it be true in morals, as in mechanics, that the motion may be continued when the impulse has ceased, and that to this we must refer the state of national feeling at the time Napoleon was suffering an accumulation of indignities at St. Helena. Since his death, however, the injustice and inhumanity of his treatment have been freely acknowledged and severely commented on; and there is every reason to believe that his great name will be finally rescued from that misrepresentation which interested writers have endeavoured to surround all his actions.

[[105]]From the affinity between fear and hatred, there is no wonder that when Napoleon was arrayed as our enemy, we joined hatred with hostility. But, at the time of his seizure on board the Bellerophon, he was no longer formidable; he was then in our hands. Upon what principle, then, did active hatred continue when both hostility and apprehension had ceased? Did a consciousness of inclemency (to use the mildest term that the occasion will admit) towards the object of it sufficiently account for the continuance of this hatred? It had been better, indeed, if Lord Castlereagh, as well as his coadjutors at that period, who cherished this inextinguishable species of enmity, had considered whether the world and posterity might not be apt to ascribe the meanest and most wicked of motives to such conduct. And let all the detracters of Napoleon recollect, that the illiberal invectives in which they have so freely indulged against him will, instead of making any lasting impression upon his fame, only serve to perpetuate their own disgrace and that of his ignoble persecutors. While his figure will stand conspicuous through history, the crowd of monarchs and ministers, who have alternately crouched to and calumniated, truckled to or trampled upon him, can only escape oblivion as they make the group which shade the back ground of the picture, and give a force, by forming a contrast, to the grandeur of the leading figure. Lord Castlereagh will assuredly form one of this back-ground group; but we envy him not in

[[106]]such fame. The conduct of his lordship to Napoleon, instead of displaying that dignified sentiment and enlightened understanding which should adorn the character of a nobleman, and which we should naturally be led to expect from a "secretary of state for foreign affairs," has degraded his name to the level of the meanest of the mean. We will not say that we had rather been a chimney-sweeper than have been guilty of his lordship's treachery to Napoleon; but, considering it as a deliberate exposition of the wickedness of his heart and his abandonment of every honourable feeling, which will be put on record, and handed down to posterity, we certainly will say, that all the wealth and titles of Lord Londonderry, together with his immense political power and the smiles bestowed on him by his despotic patrons, should never have induced us to have done the like.

Would that it were in our power here to close the catalogue of crimes, which are written in characters of blood, against the Marquis of Londonderry. The death of Napoleon was followed by the persecutions of an innocent and noble-minded WOMAN,—"the injured Queen of England!" But this self-important man had been so hardened in iniquity, that it was by no means a difficult task to persuade him to assist in her ruin. Her majesty was too well acquainted with the SECRETS OF STATE to be allowed the free exercise of her rights; and as his lordship had lent his assistance to prevent many of these disreputable

[[107]]secrets from being made public[107:A], self-preservation might have operated as a further inducement for him to enter the lists of her most bitter enemies. How fatally the Marquis of Londonderry and his colleagues succeeded in their diabolical plans have been already explained. But the inglorious triumph added not to his lordship's peace of mind; for, from that period, he was observed to exhibit "a conscience ill at ease." And it was a very remarkable fact, that the marquis should have selected the precise time of the year, only twelve months after, for his own destruction as that in which his royal mistress met her fate! A circumstance of this singular nature should operate as a great moral lesson for the consideration of mankind generally, though Providence might have designed it as a warning to the "titled wickedness" of our land. Such is the condition of our nature, that we cannot mortgage either our moral or our physical energies so as always to repel the accusations of our own hearts, which are sure, eventually, to reprove us for evils committed.

"O then beware;
Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves:
Omission to do what is necessary
Seals a commission to a blank of danger;
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints
Even then when we sit idly in the sun!"

On what a slender thread hangs human life, and

[[108]]how worthless are titles and wealth, if all is not at peace within! On what a "beetling ledge" the favourite of royalty tracks his uncertain way! By what a fragile tenure the courtier holds the rewards of his servility, on which he is so accustomed to pride himself! The suicide of the gay and puissant Marquis of Londonderry was, indeed, a memento full of lessons of humility to the fawning parasites of power.

In the October of this year, Mr. Henry Nugent Bell, of whom we have before had occasion to speak, died at his house, Whitehall Place, in the 30th year of his age. This individual merits a little commiseration, notwithstanding the disgraceful part he took in the Manchester murders, and other similar missions of Lord Sidmouth; because, though the tool of despotic ministers, he made some amends to the public by betraying his base employers. The newspapers generally reported his death to have proceeded from a natural cause; but this was not the case. We can POSITIVELY state that he died UNFAIRLY; but whether from his own hand, or from the design of an enemy, we are not able to determine. Mr. Bell appears never to have forgiven himself for his dereliction from the path of virtue, and only urged, in extenuation of his conduct, the cruel necessity he was under to oblige his patron. Once enlisted under the banners of Sidmouth, the unfortunate man soon found out the necessity of not being over-scrupulous in his actions. One crime succeeded another; and thus a man of education and

[[109]]talent was made the victim of unjust and diabolical proceedings.

After a great deal of ministerial manœuvring, Mr. Canning succeeded in his suit for the foreign secretaryship. The situation of the Marquis of Londonderry had long been the darling, though for many years the unattainable, object of this gentleman's intrigues or importunities. The country, however, had no cause to rejoice in the appointment of Mr. Canning to an office of such conspicuous importance, and many people felt considerable surprise at so unexpected a promotion, as the right honourable gentleman had been previously selected as the new governor-general of India. It was a well-known fact, that Mr. Canning had fallen into personal disgrace with his majesty, and all his vacillating conduct with respect to our ill-treated queen had not been able to restore him to royal favour. There have, however, been instances where a minister has been forced upon the king by public opinion, as was the case with the first Mr. Pitt, in the reign of George the Second. This Mr. Pitt was in high favour with the PEOPLE of England, acquired through his known attachment to freedom, and through the irresistible ascendency of his upright and unbending character. George the Second, notwithstanding, showed great opposition to the appointment of this worthy man, who was hated by his king only because he feared his politics; yet Mr. Pitt was finally made secretary of state, and proved himself worthy of the popularity with which the PEOPLE had invested him.

[[110]]But the case of Mr. Canning was of a widely different nature. In him, the PEOPLE took no interest, except that which leads all men to watch their enemy's motions. He had not the honour of being disliked at court for his politics,—they were of the most accommodating character; he had given a personal offence to the "first gentleman of the land." By the country, on the other hand, it was his political principles, history, and character, that were held in the most disrepute. Placed in such circumstances, the public must have been aware that this political adventurer would not be very patriotic in his endeavours to obtain pardon for his crime against the "puissant prince;" and how far, therefore, such a man could be entrusted with power was a question not difficult to solve. As for the nation generally, they regarded Mr. Canning but in the nature of an HIRED ADVOCATE, retained for the mean purpose of palliating the weaknesses or transgressions of a cabinet, the great majority of whose members he excelled in making witty or fallacious speeches. His countrymen recollected his conduct through life too well to imagine that he was made foreign secretary to introduce any real improvement into the policy or councils of the nation. They felt convinced of his being chosen as the apologist of bad measures, not the author of good ones; and that he held the language of one of Shakespeare's heroes to be good sentiment: "A plague of opinion!—a man may wear it on both sides, like a leather jerkin!"

Mr. Canning was, indeed, known to be a fit agent

[[111]]for the "Holy Alliance;" he was the sworn antagonist of every reform in church and state; and wheresoever a grievance or an abuse appeared, there stood he, arrogantly to charge as public enemies all who testified to the existence of either. Even the unfortunate country gentlemen, reduced as they now were, by their blind support of Mr. Canning's system, to a state bordering on pauperism, could hardly have hoped, from such a rooted foe to liberty, for any shadow of relief or of assistance. "Be quiet, gentlemen," was the self-important style of his addresses, "see what an example the poor have set you; be patient, as they are, and you will soon be prosperous, like me!" From a minister of this description, no consolatory expectations could possibly be formed by any class or party. We might certainly look for a few better speeches than Lord Londonderry made; for his were, indeed, but poor maudlin affairs. The new acts would only have a better chance of being varnished over, while we might expect them to be much worse in their nature than they had been; because, as ministers had no intention to reform the system, it must, of necessity, become more vicious every day. The only measure on which Mr. Canning had ever taken any particularly active part, was the emancipation of the Catholics; and our readers will form some opinion of his SINCERITY on this subject, and of the IMPORTANCE which Mr. Canning attached to it, when we inform them that the honourable gentleman actually promised the Earl of Liverpool not to discuss the

[[112]]matter if he might only be allowed to retain the foreign secretaryship! The conduct of the Earl of Liverpool, also, leads to an observation which reflects any thing but honour on the character of his lordship. We know that the power of this premier over the king was omnipotent, owing to his being in possession of SECRETS, of the most vital importance to his majesty and the royal family. By his lordship threatening to be no longer prime minister, he could, at almost any time, have forced his own schemes of policy upon the vitiated court. By the admission of Mr. Canning to office, he had driven his royal master to the wall, and compelled him to do that which all the world had before supposed would have been more unpalatable to his proud feelings than the admission of even the Whigs to office. If Lord Liverpool could, therefore, bring in a minister so personally disliked as Mr. Canning notoriously was by his majesty, could he not also have prevented that odious and atrocious measure, commonly called the "Queen's TRIAL,"—Mr. Canning's declared disapprobation of which created the very difficulty which had just been overcome? That disgraceful proceeding against an injured woman, with all its horrid consequences, it now became indisputably evident, might have been avoided, had Lord Liverpool but only have shown as much pertinacity in the CAUSE OF INNOCENCE as he had now done in that of PARTY. His personal power in the cabinet was, however, much increased by the nomination of Mr. Canning. There was a tacit, though

[[113]]well-understood, separation of interests during the life of Lord Londonderry, who usually headed one division of the ministers, with the Duke of Wellington in the number of the subalterns of his party, while Lord Liverpool led the other wing of Tory pensioners. There was nothing now, therefore, to stand against the first lord of the Treasury, unless Mr. Canning's inveterate spirit of intrigue should possess him (a thing by no means unlikely) to see a rival in his benefactor, and to undermine Lord Liverpool, as he had done one of his former colleagues.

What an enviable opportunity to enter office did this period afford to any man having the real welfare of his country at heart; for all the blessings that had been promised from the "glorious battle of Waterloo,"—that wind-up of a war against the liberties of Europe,—were yet to come: taxation remained undiminished; the liberties of the subject were gradually declining; the commerce of England was almost at an end; and her people poor and unhappy. Here, then, was a wide field for a patriotic minister to display his abilities, by restoring the country to its wonted prosperity! But, while Mr. Canning and his colleagues were indulging in luxury at the expense of the nation, the just complaints of the public were designated "the cries of a faction," and the miserable victims of their misrule said to betray an "ignorant impatience" when they prayed for relief. After years of peace, the expenditure of government exceeded the income of the Treasury, and our

[[114]]visionary and delusive system of finance required to be bolstered up by additions to our already overwhelming debt; strength of council was superseded by strength of army; all public discussion, however peaceably conducted, was opposed; acts of coercion were encouraged and abetted; and England, once the pride of nations, became desolated by the worst complication of ignorance and obstinacy that ever disgraced a cabinet! To whatever department of the state we turned our eyes, the same indifference to its prosperity seemed manifest. The ARMY, preponderating beyond all precedent in time of peace, had become an overgrown source of profligacy and barter; commissions and promotions, instead of being rewards for service and merit, were sold to the best bidder, and the produce applied to pamper the vitiated appetite of royalty. In the NAVY, once our bulwark and our boast, the services of effeminate lordlings seemed more courted than those of bluff and able seamen, commissioners more important than shipwrights, and large expensive establishments kept up on shore, while our fleets were rotting in the docks. Our TRADE was neglected, while pirates infested the seas, and destroyed our merchantmen. In our FOREIGN POLICY, all was danger and uncertainty; the calm of peace was only prolonged by our unexampled apathy and puerile forbearance. Foreign powers owed us money that we dare not demand; nations were struggling for liberty and independence that we must not assist; and outrages committed that we could not avenge.

[[115]]In the past, a long and sanguinary war, in which were sacrificed an incalculable number of lives and immense treasure; while in the future was exhibited the most dreary prospect of our declining power. At home, our decay was still more apparent: the sacred flame of liberty, to which we were indebted for our preference over other nations, was attacked on all sides by every means that treachery could devise; the malignity of the ministers visited faithful servants with dismissal without inquiry or hearing; the sovereign was recommended and advised to treat his subjects with contumely and neglect; while the constitution itself was assailed by spies and informers, who first created and abetted the commission of the crimes which they afterwards denounced! This was, indeed, a fearful state of affairs; but history will justify us in the picture we have drawn. Though these and ten thousand other evils were evidently the results of imbecility, folly, and knavery, which had mainly been assisted by bribery, lavishly bestowed on those who had possessed themselves of those secrets of state recorded in our volumes, yet he who dared to hint at such an unpleasant truth, or even to doubt the honesty of ministers, was sure to be denounced a traitor. But, thank heaven! the power of the Tories now received a check. The manly stand made by a few members of the House of Commons, during the previous session of parliament, had opened the eyes of the long-blinded public, and the late acts of

[[116]]oppression[116:A], with which the Londonderry cabinet had disgraced itself, furnished fresh cause for censure and new inducements for perseverance. The ministry, therefore, which Mr. Canning joined were humbled and degraded before he became one of its members; but, instead of raising it from the disgrace into which it had fallen, his underhanded conduct only aggravated matters, and rendered him a greater object of suspicion to patriotic men than even their avowed enemies.

Various royal diversions and exhibitions were displayed throughout this year, and the "first gentleman in the world" was too often made to appear the "first knave on the stage of life." George the Fourth's means had been bestowed so bounteously, that he had become arrogant, and considered THE PEOPLE merely in the light of SLAVES, created only to administer to his passions and caprices. He could hardly be said to know the nation, except by the representation of his hirelings. Neither did he care to know the subjects from whom his strength was derived, because they sometimes exhibited more independence than suited his princely ideas of decorum. Indeed, he not unfrequently found the popular voice rather formidable against the attainment of some of

[[117]]his wishes; and it would have been well if parliament had taken a lesson from former and better times in this particular. In the works of our oldest honest historians, we find very plain language used by parliaments to their kings, and the latter generally receiving the sharpest rebukes for their vanity and partiality,—not as designed affronts, but as wholesome chastisements. Matthew Paris tells us, when Henry the Third asked for money to defray the expenses of a foreign expedition, "which his people thought did not at all concern England," that his parliament told him, "It was very imprudent in him to ask money for any such purposes, and thereby impoverishing his subjects at home, by his squandering it in idle expeditions, and that they flatly refused supplying him on any such account." Upon thus remonstrating, "that he had engaged his royal word to go abroad in person that year, and that he must have a supply," they asked him, "What has become of all the money your majesty has had already, and how it comes to be lavished without this kingdom being one shilling the better?" But the freedom with which the people treated their sovereigns in those days was not confined to remonstrances. One of the greatest and most victorious of our princes, Edward the First, had an inordinate desire of making, in person, a campaign in Flanders, that he might support a confederacy he had entered into, to reduce the power of France, and had demanded an extraordinary supply for that purpose. The people, conceiving the quarrel to be very

[[118]]indifferent to England, strongly opposed his leaving the kingdom upon any such idle expedition. "The people of England," said the parliament, "do not think it proper for you to go to Flanders, unless you can secure out of that country some equivalent, which may indemnify us for the expense." We have a like instance in the reign of that great and powerful king, Henry the Second. This prince being strongly tempted to make an expedition abroad, in person, became so fond of the proposal that he laid it before his parliament, with a most earnest request for their consent, "it being the sole and darling purpose of his heart!" But his parliament, honest to the people, thought that he had no business abroad, and "that it was much better for him to keep the money at home." Accordingly, the question was put and carried, for "An address to the king to keep within his own dominions, according to his duty." Edward the Third likewise received several mortifications of the like kind; and it appears from the whole tenor of history, that the great care of our ancestors was to root from the breast of their kings every principle of vain glory, which, the more ridiculous it is, becomes generally the more expensive to the nation. What an amazing contrast, then, does all this offer to the proceedings of the parliament of George the Fourth, who generally addressed him in the most adulatory language, and gave him money to gratify all his inordinate vanity. But the House of Commons, during his reign, spoke not the sentiments of the PEOPLE.

[[119]]At the commencement of the year