Beyond this descriptive notice of the last-mentioned event, little need be said. The reader who wishes to pursue the subject further may with advantage consult Sir Walter Scott's Life of Napoleon, vol. v., and No. 5 of the Appendix to that work. The political worshippers of Napoleon have set up, or rather attempted, many points of defence. That the Duke's grave was dug before the judgment was pronounced, has been denied by Savary. Sir Walter Scott in a note says, "This is not of much consequence. The illegal arrest—the precipitation of the mock-trial—the disconformity of the sentence from the proof—the hurry of the execution—all prove the unfortunate prince was doomed to die long before he was brought before the military commission." The affair is similarly regarded in the Life of Napoleon in the Family Library, where the writer emphatically says, "If ever man was murdered, it was the Duke d'Enghien." Fouché's remark on this act has even passed into a proverb: "It was worse than a crime—it was a blunder." Lastly, although many pages have been written on Napoleon's conduct, his anxiety to justify or clear up his conduct on this occasion is not less worthy of attention.
We pass from this atrocious incident in the history of the prison-house to its last eventful scene, which is closely associated with the political mischief of the past year in France—the imprisonment of the ministers of Charles X. which has been too recently described in the journals of the day to render necessary its repetition.
ANECDOTE GALLERY
PETRARCH AND DANTE.
(For the Mirror.)
Petrarch had a gay and captivating exterior: his complexion was fair, with sparkling blue eyes, and a ready smile. He was very amusing on the subject of his own coxcombry; and tells us how cautiously he used to turn the corner of a street, lest the wind should disorder the elaborate curls of his fine hair! Dante, too, was in his youth eminently handsome, but in a style of beauty that was characteristic of his mind: his eyes were large and intensely black; his nose aquiline; his complexion of a dark olive; his hair and beard very much curled; his step slow and measured; and the habitual expression of his countenance grave, with a tinge of melancholy abstraction. When Petrarch walked the streets of Avignon, the women smiled, and said, "There goes the lover of Laura!" The impression which Dante left, on those who beheld him was far different. In allusion to his own personal appearance, he used to relate an incident that once occurred to him. When years of persecution and exile had added to the natural sternness of his countenance, the deep lines left by grief, and the brooding spirit of vengeance; he happened to be at Verona, where, since the publication of his Inferno, he was well known. Passing one day by a portico, wherein several women were seated, one of them whispered, with a look of awe; "Do you see that man? that is he who goes does down to Hell whenever he pleases, and brings us back tidings of the sinners below."
"Ay, indeed!" replied her companion; "very likely; see how his face is scarred with fire and brimstone, and blackened with smoke, and how his hair and beard have been singed and curled in the flames!"