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NEW ORLEANS.

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When peace was made in Europe, the United States became anxious for peace too. Madison had begun the war in the ungenerous hope of wresting Canada from Great Britain, because he thought her too deeply engaged in the gigantic war against Napoleon to be able to defend that colony. He believed that it would fall an easy prey; that the Canadians must so greatly admire the model republic that they would abandon monarchy at the first call, and that he should thus have the glory of absorbing that great world of the north into the American Republic. In all this, he and those who thought with him found themselves egregiously deceived. The Canadians showed they were staunchly attached to Great Britain, and the attempts at invasion were beaten back by the native militia and by our handful of troops with the greatest ease. Meanwhile, the blockade of the east, and the seizure of the merchant shipping, drove the New England and other eastern States to desperation. Throughout this war Great Britain made a uniform declaration of a preference for peace, but her offers were regularly rejected so long as Napoleon was triumphant. The United States, professing the utmost love of freedom, were the blind and enthusiastic worshippers of the man who was trampling the liberties of all Europe under his feet. It was not till the last moment—not till he had been defeated in Russia, driven by Britain out of Spain, routed and pursued out of Germany, and compelled to renounce the Imperial Crown of France—that the American Government began to understand the formidable character of the Power which it had so long and so insolently provoked, and to fear the whole weight of its resentment directed against its shores. It is certain that, had Britain been animated by a spirit of vengeance, it had now the opportunity, by sending strong fleets and a powerful army to the coast of America, to ravage her seaboard towns, and so utterly annihilate her trade as to reduce her to the utmost misery, and to precipitate a most disastrous system of internal disintegration. The New England States, in 1814, not only threatened to secede, but stoutly declared that they would not furnish another shilling towards paying the expenses of the war. They even intimated an idea of making a separate peace with Britain. In Massachusetts especially these menaces were vehement. Governor Strong spoke out plainly in the Legislative Chamber of that State. Madison endeavoured to mollify this spirit by abandoning his Embargo and Emancipation Acts, but this was now too late, for the strict blockade of the British, in 1814, rendered these Acts perfectly dead.

To procure peace, Madison now sought the good offices of the Emperor Alexander of Russia with Great Britain, and these offices were readily accepted, for the latter had never willingly gone into or continued this unnatural war. A Congress was appointed at Gothenburg, and thence transferred to Ghent. There, on the 24th of December, 1814, a loose and indefinite peace was concluded, in which every principle on which the war had been begun was left to be settled by commissioners; and some of which—such was the difficulty of negotiating with the Americans—were not settled for many years. On these points alone were the two Powers agreed—that all hostilities between the contracting parties and the Indians should be put an end to, and that both parties should continue their efforts for the suppression of the slave-trade. Such was the joy of the north-eastern States of America at the peace that the citizens of New York carried the British envoy, sent to ratify the treaty, in triumph through the streets.

When the Bourbons had entered Paris in 1814 they had shown the utmost liberality towards those who had driven them from France and had murdered those of their family on the throne and nearest to it. They did not imitate the summary vengeance of Napoleon, whose Government, in 1812, had put to death not only General Mallet, who had endeavoured to restore the Bourbons, but also thirteen of his accomplices, on the plain of Grenelle. When Louis XVIII. returned, there were numbers of the bloody Revolutionists who had voted for, and some who had acted in, the frightful atrocities of the Revolution—many who had urged on the sufferings, the indignities, and the death of Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, the Princess Elizabeth, the Princess Lamballe, and the worst form of death of the unhappy Dauphin. Yet no vengeance was taken, and numbers of these people were allowed to reside unharmed in Paris. Having been now again driven forth, and seen the readiness with which those who had sworn to maintain their Government had taken their oaths and betrayed them, it might have been expected that there would have been some severe punishments. But the natural mildness of Louis XVIII., and the wise counsels of Wellington and Talleyrand, produced a very different scene. Never, after such provocations, and especially to the sensitive natures of Frenchmen, was so much lenity shown. In the proclamation of Louis XVIII. of the 24th of July, nineteen persons only were ordered for trial, and thirty-eight were ordered to quit Paris, and to reside in particular parts of France, under the observation of the police, till their fate should be decided by the Chambers. Of the nineteen threatened with capital punishment, with trial before a military tribunal, only Ney and Labédoyère suffered; another, Lavalette, was condemned, but escaped by changing dresses with his wife in prison. It was also stated that such individuals as should be condemned to exile should be allowed to sell their property in France, and carry the proceeds with them. Yet more clamour was raised by the Buonapartists about the deaths of Ney and Labédoyère than had been made in any executions by the Imperial or the Revolutionary parties over whole hecatombs of innocent persons. As for Ney and Labédoyère, their treason had been so barefaced and outrageous that no reasonable person could expect anything but summary punishment for them. Ney had declared to Louis XVIII. that he would bring Buonaparte to him in a cage, and then carried over his whole army at once to the Emperor. Labédoyère had been equally perjured after the most generous forgiveness of his former treasons, and he had been particularly active in stimulating the Parisians to make a useless resistance to the Allies approaching Paris, by stating that the Bourbons were preparing a most sanguinary proscription. Both officers knew that they had no hope of life, no plea of protection, and they fled in disguise. Yet vehement reproaches were cast on the Duke of Wellington for having, as the Buonapartists asserted, broken the 12th article of the Convention of Paris, by which the city was surrendered to the Allied armies. Madame Ney, after the seizure and condemnation of her husband, went to the Duke, and demanded his interference on the Marshal's behalf, as a right on the ground of this article, which she interpreted as guaranteeing all the inhabitants, of whatever political creed or conduct, from prosecution by the restored Government. It was in vain that Wellington explained to her that this article, and indeed the whole Convention, related solely to the military surrender, and not to the political measures of the Government of Louis, with which the Duke had publicly and repeatedly declared that he had no concern, and in which he would not interfere. When the Commissioners from the Provisional Government had waited on him, so early as the 2nd of July, at Estrées, and claimed exemption for political offenders, he showed them the proclamation of Louis, dated Cambray, the 28th of June, making exceptions to the general amnesty, and distinctly told them that he had no orders to interfere with the measures of the Bourbon Government. To this the Commissioners had nothing to object, and they thus clearly understood that the British commander would not take any part in political, but merely in military measures. Nevertheless, when Ney was executed, the clamour was renewed that Wellington had betrayed him. We now anticipate, somewhat, to dispose of this calumny, for there never was a party so recklessly addicted to charging their enemies with breach of faith as that of Buonaparte and his followers. The foul charge was so industriously disseminated over Europe, that Wellington, at Paris, on the 19th of November, 1815, issued a memorial on the subject, which he first caused to be sent to all the Allied Powers and then to be published. In this most decisive document he stated that the Convention of Paris related exclusively to the military occupation of the place, and was never intended, and could not be intended, to prevent either the existing French Government, the Provisional, or any French Government that might succeed it, from acting towards political offenders as it might deem proper. He had refused before to enter into a question of settling the Government. To make this clear, he quoted the 11th article, providing for the non-interference of the Allied army with property; and the 12th:—"Seront pareillement respectées les personnes et les propriétés particulières; les habitants, et en général tous les individus qui se trouvent dans la capitale, continueront à jouir de leur droits et libertés sans pouvoir être inquiétés, ou recherchés en rein, relativement aux fonctions qu'ils occupent ou avaient occupées, à leur conduite, et à leur opinions politiques." Labédoyère was shot on the 19th of August, 1815, and Ney on the 7th of December.

It remains only to notice the terminating scene of the once gay Murat, Buonaparte's gallant leader of cavalry in so many campaigns, and finally King of Naples. In consequence of plans that he had laid with Buonaparte in Elba, Murat rose on the 22nd of March of this year, and pushed forward with the intention of driving the Austrians out of Upper Italy. But Austria was well aware of what had been in progress, and, though Murat proclaimed the independence of Italy, the Italians fled from him rather than joined him. On the Po he was met by the Austrians, under General Fremont, fifty thousand strong, and defeated. He retreated rapidly towards Naples again, suffering other discomfitures, and at the same time receiving a notice from Lord William Bentinck that, as he had broken his convention with the European Powers, Britain was at war with him. To keep the Neapolitans in his interest, he drew up a liberal Constitution, on the 12th of May, amid the mountains of the Abruzzi, and sent it to Naples, where his queen, Caroline Buonaparte, proclaimed it. It was of no avail; the people, instead of assisting him, were ready to rise against him, and his soldiers every day rapidly deserted and went to their homes.

Murat hastened in disguise to Naples to consult with his wife, who had as much courage and more judgment than he had; but this availed him nothing. On the 20th of May his generals signed a convention with the Austrians at Casa Lanza, a farmhouse near Capua, to surrender Capua on the 21st, and Naples on the 23rd, on condition that all the Neapolitan officers who took the oath of allegiance to King Ferdinand should retain their respective ranks, honours, and estates. At this news Murat fled out of Naples, and, with a very small attendance, crossed over in a fisherman's boat to the island of Ischia, and his wife went on board the vessel of Commodore Campbell, which, however, she was only able to effect by a guard of three hundred English sailors and marines, for the lazzaroni were all in insurrection. Commodore Campbell, having received Caroline Buonaparte, her property and attendants on board his squadron, then sailed to Gaeta, where were the four children of Murat, took them on board, and conveyed them altogether to Trieste, the Emperor of Austria having given Madame Murat free permission to take up her residence in Austria, under the name of the Countess of Lipano.