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[[i]]

SECRET HISTORY
OF THE
Court of England,
FROM THE ACCESSION OF GEORGE THE THIRD TO THE
DEATH OF GEORGE THE FOURTH;
INCLUDING, AMONG OTHER IMPORTANT MATTERS,
FULL PARTICULARS OF THE MYSTERIOUS DEATH
OF THE
PRINCESS CHARLOTTE.

By the Right Honorable LADY ANNE HAMILTON,
Sister of His Grace the present Duke of Hamilton and Brandon; and of the
Countess of Dunmore.

"Of meaner vice and villains, sing no more,
But monsters crown'd, and Crime enrobed with Power!
At Vice's high imperial throne begin,
And boldly brand such prodigies of sin;
With pregnant phrase, and strong impartial verse,
The crimes of lords and crimes of kings rehearse!"

VOL II.

LONDON:
PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM HENRY STEVENSON,
13, WELLINGTON STREET, STRAND.
1832.

[[2]]

[[3]]

SECRET HISTORY,
&c. &c.

The coronation of George the Fourth, which had been postponed from time to time, at length took place on the 19th of July. We think, situated as her majesty then was, she ought to have been attended to the Abbey by all the noblemen and gentlemen whose courage and honour had permitted them to espouse and support her cause; and, with such a phalanx, could she have been refused admittance? Instead of such arrangement, however, her majesty went at an early hour, accompanied by two ladies and one gentleman!—was refused admittance at the first door, and sought for entrance at another, with the same ill success. It was true, her majesty had not an imperative right to be crowned, though she had an undoubted title to be present at the ceremony of her husband's coronation. Nay, claiming her right of admission in the character of cousin to his majesty, ought to have entitled her to very different treatment. Her majesty would not have encroached upon another's privileges, by entering Westminster Hall, because that might be considered the king's dining room; and the queen was too well informed to pass the boundary of privilege.

[[4]]On the evening of the 18th of July, Lord and Lady Hood slept at Cambridge House, and, after retiring for the night, they were disturbed by the announcement that a messenger waited from Mr. Brougham to see Lord Hood. His lordship saw the messenger, whose business was to say, "If Lord Hood wanted any tickets for the coronation, he might have as many as he pleased." Lord Hood said, "I have my own, and that is quite enough; I need no more." It becomes a wise general to provide against the inroad of an enemy, and Lord Hood ought, and was in duty bound, to have accepted Mr. Brougham's offer of tickets, though that offer was made so SECRETLY, and at such a late hour. Lord Hood was either not sufficiently firm in the interest of her majesty, or else some previous understanding had existed upon the subject of these tendered tickets; for all well-dressed ladies were admitted upon the presentation of a ticket, and the name never required. There cannot be a doubt that the king had positive fears of the arrival of her majesty, because his carriage was kept in waiting to convey him to Carlton House, should the queen be announced. Well might he say to the bearers of his train, "Hold it wider." Yes, indeed, he required room to breathe, for CONSCIENCE is an obtrusive monitor, as well as a privileged guest, in all companies.

In addition to the negligence of the professed friends of the queen, we are sorry to say, that the ministers had prepared means, very demeaning, as

[[5]]well as perfectly unconstitutional. A covered boat was in waiting at the back of the hall, on the Thames, to convey the queen (if deemed needful) to the Tower; but, some persons of principle and property being aware of this abuse of power, many boats were upon the river, to render assistance, if required, to an insulted queen. Eight regiments of soldiers were in and near London, FIVE of which were THE DETERMINED FRIENDS OF THE QUEEN! Was it not rather a peculiar circumstance that Alderman Wood (who was in the procession of the lord mayor) was the loudest in his applause to the king? But, before we conclude this work, our readers will have no reason to be surprised at this conduct of the inconsistent and interested alderman. It was likewise very strange, that Lord Liverpool, the then first lord of the Treasury, was NOT PRESENT AT THE CORONATION! From whence was this unusual non-attendance upon the monarch to be attributed? Because Lord Liverpool, seeing the danger likely to result from the refusal of her majesty to the coronation, had advised the king to receive his consort. At first, his majesty consented, but shortly afterwards retracted his promise. Lord Liverpool, however, had caused this permission of his majesty for the queen's presence at the coronation to be made known to her, and a plan of the interior of the Abbey was enclosed at the same time, in which a seat was expressly ordered to be prepared for her majesty. We can positively assure our readers of the truth of this; for, two evenings previous to the

[[6]]coronation, we were sitting with one of her majesty's private friends, when the servant brought in a note, which that friend read with the greatest vivacity. It contained an assurance, that the king had consented to her majesty's being received at the banquet, and a plan was produced, exhibiting a seat, in which the queen and her attendants were to sit. Her majesty's impression was, we can confidently say, "That the Earl of Liverpool had advised the king to permit her to be received, in order to prevent ill consequences; for that, in case any riot should take place during the procession, the king might have been smothered in the crowd!" The Earl of Liverpool, however, had disobliged his majesty in the November previous, by abandoning the Bill of Pains and Penalties; but what else could he have done? If sentence had been passed against her, the mighty rush of public opinion would have probably overwhelmed the whole regal circle. Doubtless, Earl Lauderdale had given his royal master another version of the matter, as, from his representation, the king again refused to see his consort; in consequence of which, the most arbitrary measures were taken to prevent the appearance of the queen at the coronation. We must also place upon record that, on the 24th of the same month, Lord Lauderdale's honours (extra knight of the thistle, &c.) appeared in the Gazette, which were, no doubt, bestowed upon him for his avowed enmity to the queen.

We are sorry that Lord Hood, her majesty's only

[[7]]male attendant to the coronation, did not act a little more as became his duty to his royal mistress on this trying occasion. His lordship offered neither resistance nor remonstrance to the insult of refusing her majesty an admittance to the Abbey; but tamely, not to say cowardly, submitted to it, as he immediately led the queen to her carriage! Yet Lord Hood was a peer! but, gentle reader, he was also a—PENSIONER! We put the question to every honest-hearted Englishman, what force would have dared to oppose the queen's entry into the Abbey, if she had been properly surrounded and attended by her legal advisers and friends? Had such been the case, the "accomplished gentleman" would have met his injured, basely-treated wife, whose gaze must have brought a blush upon his guilty cheek. Such an unexpected visit had been contrary to his royally-fixed determination, as he then would have "met her in public."

The English character has ever been proverbial for morality, gallantry, justice, and humanity; though we cannot help thinking it suffered a little degradation when the queen was refused admittance to the scene of her husband's coronation. This, indeed, is a blot upon the annals of our country, which the stream of time will never be able to wash away. History cannot forget the conduct of the sovereign in this instance, who, when about to enter into a solemn compact with his people, and while calling the Omnipotent God to witness his faith and sincerity, "that he will most truly deal out justice, and love

[[8]]mercy, in his kingly station," at the same moment refused BOTH to his own wife! Let not such vindictive and disgraceful conduct be forgotten, when the taste and elegant manners of George the Fourth are extolled!

Amongst the gay throng of fawning courtiers that attended this ceremony was the Marquis of Londonderry, whose glittering appendages and costly array were of an unusual quality. Yet, gorgeous as was the sight, the absence of the queen rendered the coronation pomp an uninteresting scene of solemn mockery in its character, and an insulting imposition to the nation, who, while hearing the royal engagements made to them, nationally and individually, saw the first law of nature inverted by the very personage for whom this "mighty show" was designed. But are we not justified in supposing that George the Fourth possessed but a weak understanding, a frail heart, and strong prejudices, and that his judgment was perverted by bad counsel? Had his majesty been a sensible man, he would have perceived that all the advantages of his rank and station were conferred upon him by his fellow-men, and would not have squandered the national wealth upon unworthy characters. The title of king carries no such charm with it as to exempt its possessor from any of those infirmities which are incidental to his species; but he is doomed to drag about with him a frail tenement of clay, sometimes well and sometimes ill shaped, and liable every moment to be dissolved, and reduced to a state of putrefaction, in common with

[[9]]all those who contribute, by their labour, to its support. But how differently did George the Fourth consider his title and power at this period of his vanity! He concealed, as much as possible, the defects of his nature from "vulgar eyes," by exhibiting himself on a public stage, in borrowed plumes, like the jackdaw in the fable, who astonished his fellow-daws by assuming the gaudy plumage of the peacock. Thousands of weak mortals flocked about the royal actor, and expressed such extreme delight at the pageant scene, that we could hardly wonder to find him and his created nobles so inflated with pride as to consider themselves of a superior nature to the rest of mankind, and to believe that those who so much admired their external appendages were born to be their slaves. We deprecate such grovelling servility in the people as much as we pity the pride of the nobles. As well might a worm or a grub, when decorated with the ephemeral wings of a butterfly, look contemptuously on the crawling snail!

But a few years before the insult was offered to the queen at the coronation, her brother, the Duke of Brunswick, had fallen in the field of battle, while bravely fighting against Napoleon at Waterloo. Her majesty was now, therefore, bereft of every natural connexion, save her vindictive and cruel husband; and history hardly presents a more trying situation than that in which the persecuted and shamefully-treated Queen of England was placed.

The Duke of Newcastle, who distinguished himself

[[10]]upon the queen's trial, by pronouncing judgment against her majesty without hearing the evidence in her favour, was the boroughmonger selected to bear the "sword of mercy" before the king at the coronation! We ought not, probably, to find fault with the choice of George the Fourth in this instance; as the duke's subsequent acts have proved him so worthy of being the bearer of such an emblem,—to which the people of Newark can fully testify!

Upon her majesty's arrival at Brandenburgh House, after being refused admittance to the coronation, she took a cup of tea, and then retired to her room for nearly four hours. In this interval, the queen resolved to visit Scotland; she wrote to Lord Liverpool upon the subject, and requested his lordship to apprize the king of her intention. This letter was received by his lordship, and answered in the usual strain, "that he (Lord Liverpool) had laid her majesty's letter before the king, but had not received his majesty's commands thereon." In the intermediate time, it was announced, the king would visit Ireland; and his majesty left Carlton House at half-past eleven o'clock, on the 31st of July, on his way to Portsmouth for Dublin.

On the 30th of July, the evening previous to the king's departure, her majesty visited the theatre, and was much indisposed, but would not be persuaded to retire before the performance was concluded; indeed, it was the queen's usual line of conduct not to disturb any public assembly by retiring earlier than was positively needful. Before her

[[11]]majesty went to the theatre, she felt indisposed, but declined remaining at home, for fear of disappointing the people. When her majesty returned from the theatre, she was very sick, and had much pain in her bowels the next day. In the afternoon of this day, Dr. Holland called, apparently by chance, and, on feeling her pulse, said she must have further advice. She objected, as having most confidence in him, who had travelled with her; but to satisfy his mind, her majesty said he might bring whom he liked. Next day (Wednesday) he brought Dr. Ainslie, who desired to have more assistance called in; and on Thursday morning, Dr. Warren accompanied the other two, both king's physicians, according to etiquette, we believe. Previous to this, she seemed much surprised herself at her illness, and said to Dr. Holland, "DO YOU THINK I AM POISONED?" This day she was told, they hoped things would end well; but if she had any papers of consequence, she had better dispose of them, as, in the event of her decease, every thing must go to the king, or the ministers,—we forget which. At this, she astonished them all by her greatness of mind; for her majesty did not betray the slightest agitation, but immediately and coolly answered—"O yes, I understand you; it shall be done." She sat up almost the whole of that night with her maid Brunette only, burning letters, papers, and MS. books. She then called Hyronemus (her maître d'hôtel) and made him swear to burn every thing she gave, him in the kitchen fire. More letters, papers, and

[[12]]MS. books were then given him, besides a large folio book, full, or nearly so, of her own writing. It was about two feet long, and five or six inches thick, and bound. This book she always said contained the whole history of her life ever since she came to this country, together with the characters of the different persons she had been intimate with. Besides papers, she sorted all her little trinkets, wrapped them in separate papers, and wrote herself the names of all her different friends who were to have them, charging Brunette to dispose of them after her death according to the directions; but these presents never reached their destination.

From Thursday, her majesty seemed regularly to get worse, and the inquiries after her health by the people at large were equal to the interest she had raised in the country. It was pretty generally said that her majesty's danger arose from a stoppage in the bowels. Various were the remedies prescribed; and, among innumerable others, a bottle of Croton Oil, with the following kind letter, was sent to an individual of her majesty's household:

"Sir,

"I am aware that nothing but the great, the very great, danger her majesty is in would excuse this unauthorised intrusion; but, learning from the papers the nature of her majesty's complaint, I have taken the liberty to forward to you, with the view of having it handed to Doctor Maton, or Dr. Warren, a medicine of strong aperient properties, called "Croton Oil," one drop of which is a dose. There is no doubt but it is known to some of her majesty's medical advisers. It is but lately known in this country. It may be proper to observe that Doctor Pemberton has himself taken it. I have given it to more than one person; its operation is quick and

[[13]]safe. Two drops, when made into pills with bread, usually produce alvine evacuations in half or three quarters of an hour. It has struck me that this medicine may be administered with success to her majesty. At all events, I can have done no harm in taking the liberty to suggest it. Fearful of appearing anxious to make myself obtrusive, I have declined giving my name.

"Your's respectfully,

"A CHEMIST."

"Some suspicion may, perhaps, be attached to the circumstance of this letter being anonymous. I can only answer, that Dr. Warren or Dr. Maton will know the medicine to be what it is represented; if not, the chemist at Hammersmith may be referred to.

"God save the Queen!"

Both the medicine and the letter were referred to Dr. Pemberton, of Great George-street, Hanover-square, who used to attend her majesty, but had been obliged to give up practice from suffering with the "tic douloureux." The poor old man came, though bent double with pain, saw the remedy, and gave it as his decided opinion, "that, if a passage cannot be obtained in any other way, I certainly would try this, which is sure to have EFFECT, as without it her majesty must die; I have, indeed, taken two drops of it myself, therefore the queen might very safely take one."

When the king's physicians were told Dr. Pemberton's opinion, they still persisted that they could not take it upon themselves to give her majesty the medicine!

No one was suffered to approach the queen but the king's physicians, except in their presence, though her majesty most anxiously asked for William Austin, saying, "How odd it is that he never comes near

[[14]]me;" in the meanwhile, he was weeping bitterly outside the door, but was always told, either "the queen is asleep," or else, "too ill to see him." Her majesty's sufferings must have been dreadful, and they seemed to come on periodically, when her cries could be heard in all the adjacent rooms, and then it appeared that the doctors dosed her with laudanum, which, of course, added to the CONSTIPATION of her bowels, as well as rendered her quite insensible when her friends did see her. Her majesty seemed most partial to Dr. Holland, who sat up with her every night, till Saturday, when she was a little better; but, being called to town, he left her majesty under the care of Dr. Ainslie, we think. Next morning, being Sunday, her majesty got up and dressed herself, and sat in her chair. Either in the night or in the morning, Dr. Ainslie brought her majesty a draught to take, which the queen dashed out of his hand, in a very marked manner, spilt it, and said, "I am well; do you not see I am well, Sir? I want no physic." At which, Dr. Ainslie felt somewhat offended, as well he might.

On the Sunday before her death, her majesty said, "I should much like to take the sacrament; and I desire that the clergyman who does the duty at Hammersmith may be sent for to administer it." Application was immediately made; but the gentleman said, "I cannot administer it, without leave from the rector, who is now at Richmond." A messenger went to Richmond, and found that the rector had gone to dine in London, and that the clergyman

[[15]]must either go there to him, or solicit permission from the king's ministers! Notwithstanding this unfeeling piece of tyranny, her majesty said, "I do not doubt but my intentions will be accepted by God, the same as if I had been permitted to receive it." The queen was truly an example of patience and resignation, for she never repined, not even in her most agonizing moments. Her majesty, alas! too well knew she must eventually be the VICTIM OF TYRANNY.

Let every thinking being contrast the profession of Christianity with the contemptible procedure set forth in the anecdote just related. At the time her majesty requested to receive the sacrament, she believed herself near death; and, in accordance with the sentiments and doctrines of the Church of England, she very naturally desired to express her reliance on the Saviour by receiving this ordinance; yet even this gratification was denied her, until she was sinking into the embrace of death! This disgraceful circumstance is almost without a parallel in the annals of persecution. A virtuous and noble-minded queen, lying on the bed of death, which had been prepared for her by the hand of cruel and ill-judged Malignity, was refused this last comfort of religion; while a felon, who may have imbued his hands in the blood of his fellow-creature, is allowed to receive this emblem of salvation previous to his transition from time to eternity! Here, then, is sufficient to inform "The Many" of the policy of the "Established Church." May we not ask how

[[16]]far the English clergy are removed from Popery? as it is evident that the attentions of a rector or a bishop (under the crown) are equally difficult to be obtained as the Catholics believe those of St. Peter to be!

In contemplating the above exposure of malice, many questions naturally suggest themselves; for instance, What could prevent the curate's immediate attention to the wish of the dying queen? for had even the meanest parishioner desired it, HE MUST have attended to the request. What was meant by asking leave of "the rector, or the king's ministers," who were at some distance from the abode of sorrow? Was it not intended to add fresh insults to injuries already too deep? Did the ministry think thereby to prevent an encroachment upon his majesty's comforts in the world to come, (as he had declared, that he never again would meet the queen) and, by refusing the outward rites of the church, shut the door of hope in the sufferer's face?

Her majesty, in her agony, frequently exclaimed, "I know I am dying,—THEY HAVE KILLED ME AT LAST! but I forgive all my enemies, even Dumont," her maid Brunette's sister, who had done her majesty the greatest injury,—"I charge you (turning to her maid Brunette) to tell her so." Brunette and her majesty's maître d'hôtel, Hyronemus, wished to marry. Her majesty called them to her, and joined their hands over her body, (one standing on each side of the couch) and charged Hyronemus to be kind to Brunette. Her majesty

[[17]]then told them, she had left them all her linen (by right, belonging to her lady in waiting) and two of her carriages. On Tuesday, her majesty became much worse, and moaned terribly with pain, from four o'clock till ten at night, when she rapidly grew weaker, till Dr. Holland, with the awful watch in his hand, feeling her pulse, at last closed her majesty's eyelids, and declared "All is over!"

Malice and Crime had now done their worst; the fatal blow had been struck, and Caroline, the injured and innocent Queen of England was for ever relieved from her despicable and heartless persecutors!

"O, what a noble mind was here o'erthrown!"

Every person now left the room, except Dr. Lushington (one of the executors) and Lady Hamilton. Dr. Lushington said, "You, my lady, or Lady Hood, must not quit the body." Lady Hamilton replied, "Then, sir, let it be me." Shortly afterwards, the alderman and Mrs. Wood went into the chamber of death, the alderman offering the services of his wife to assist in the last sad duties to the lamented queen. In the interval, Brunette, the queen's maid, said that her majesty had desired no one might go near her body except herself; and Dr. Lushington complied with the request. Lady Hamilton observed, Brunette was not strong enough to move the body; Brunette, therefore, chose the housemaid to assist her. Shortly afterwards, Dr. Lushington requested Lady Hamilton's presence again; and, upon her appearance in the gloomy chamber, said, "Now, you

[[18]] must remain here; and promise me not to lift up the sheet which covers the body, or permit any one else to do so." Lady Hamilton promised; when very soon afterwards Mrs. Wood went into the room, as she said, "to have a peep." Lady Hamilton prevented it, saying, she had given her word, and Mrs. Wood must therefore desist. The body, very speedily after life was extinct, became much discoloured, and, though it was washed and prepared for the grave-clothes in less than two hours after the decease, it exhibited a very great change, as well as being much swollen. The housemaid who assisted Brunette to prepare her majesty for the grave-clothes, said, the body turned quite BLACK before their task was finished, and swelled exceedingly, and on the following Thursday became quite offensive, when the leaden coffin arrived. On the Monday after, the rooms were lighted up, and hung with black, for her majesty to lie in state! Oh! sad mockery to her persecuted remains!

The housemaid, who helped Brunette to lay her majesty out, was quite disgusted at the unfeeling manner in which Brunette performed this sad duty; for she tossed the body about most indecently; and, when remonstrated with for such behaviour, said, "La! I mind her no more than an old hen!!!" The morning after her majesty's death, Lady Anne Hamilton's own maid went creeping into Brunette's room, expecting to find some show of grief, at least, for the loss of so good a mistress. What, then, was her astonishment to find her up, dressed, and in the

[[19]] highest spirits! "I never was so happy," said she, "in all my life. I can now get up when I like, go to bed when I like, and do every thing as I like!"

Previous to the funeral, some difficulty arose from an uncertainty where the deceased queen had kept her cash; and, without any ceremony, Mr. Wilde took up her majesty's watch, (the one presented by the inhabitants of Coventry, and which was very valuable) and said, "I will advance forty pounds, and return the watch when the money is paid!!!" Yet, at the time of her majesty's death, she must have been in possession of fourteen or fifteen hundred pounds! because Mr. Obequina had advanced the queen, but a few days before her death, the sum of two thousand pounds; and it was an indisputable fact, that not more than four or five hundred pounds had been expended out of this sum. The queen deposited this money where she always kept her trinkets, in a small blue box. In this box also her majesty frequently kept the Coventry watch, (which she seldom wore) as well as two miniature pictures of herself. This identical box, the executors gave into the care of Lord Hood; but he very properly refused to receive it, until they locked it and took the key. Dr. Lushington promised one of the miniatures to Lady Hamilton, and the other to William Austin, the protégé of the ill-fated queen; but, up to this period, such promise has not been fulfilled in either case.

It is well known that the queen, in her jocular moments, used to say, "They did not like my

[[20]]young bones, so they shall not have my old ones;" and, in her last illness, her majesty unfortunately added, "and that as soon as possible." This formed an excuse for the tools of George the Fourth to hurry her funeral beyond all decorum; as, in one single week after her majesty's death, did Lord Liverpool order that all the cavalcade should be ready. The route was chalked out, and strict orders given that, on no account, was the procession to go through the city; but every avenue was so choked up and barricaded by overturned coaches, carts, and rubbish, that they were obliged, at Piccadilly, to turn through Hyde Park; and, at Cumberland Gate, the scene of bloodshed commenced. We observed a pool of blood in the gateway, and a woman with her face all over blood, and two men lying dead. The people had pulled down the wall and railing for a hundred yards opposite Connaught-place; and the horse-soldiers (the Blues, we think) were pursuing the unarmed multitude down the park. A spent ball had fallen very near the hearse, and a gentleman in the retinue got off his horse, picked it up, and said, "This will be proof against them." At last Sir Robert Wilson, being a military man, rode up to the soldiers, and contrived to end the combat. The procession was then suffered to pass quietly along Edgeware and the New Roads till it came opposite to Portland-road, when the same obstructions of overturned carts, waggons, &c., prevented the cavalcade from continuing along the City-road, or turning into any street eastward, until it arrived at

[[21]]Temple Bar, when it turned into the city, to the great joy and acclamations of the millions of people who had followed, and who had lined the streets, windows, and tops of houses, although it rained in torrents, and the well-dressed women who attended were ancle deep in mud; nor did the people gradually drop away till the procession had entirely left the suburbs of London.

Sir George Naylor, king at arms, had his instructions where they should rest each night. The delays in London had been so many, that they were obliged (to fulfil orders) to travel at full trot to Ilford, where the procession arrived a little after six o'clock in the evening, having been more than twelve hours in performing this first stage of the journey. We pass over the insulting orders of Lord Liverpool, in their minute detail, and only advert to that part of them wherein he states to Mr. Bailey, the undertaker, that the body was to reach Harwich the second night. Various disgraceful altercations took place during the several stoppages on the road; and the mourners were treated similarly to their departed mistress. At length the sea opened upon their view; and the most prominent object upon it was the "Glasgow" frigate, stationed at some distance from Languard Fort. The procession arrived at Harwich, on Thursday, at half-past eleven, at which place, not even a single hour was allowed for retirement or repose; for the order was almost immediately given, that the coffin should be taken to the quay, and from thence lowered by a crane into a

[[22]]small barge. This was not accomplished without great difficulty, the coffin being extremely heavy. Four men rowed the boat to the side of the "Glasgow," which was waiting to receive the remains of England's injured queen. Sir G. Naylor and his secretary, with Mr. Bailey, accompanied it, and added the sad mockery of laying a paltry crown upon the coffin. The ladies and the rest of the suite followed in boats. At this moment, the first gun was fired from the fort. Such was the indelicate hurry and rude touch of the persons engaged in the removal of the royal coffin, that before it was received on board the "Glasgow," the crimson velvet was torn in many places, and hung in slips. When the boat reached the "Pioneer" schooner, the coffin was hoisted on board, the crown and cushion were laid upon it, and the pall was thrown out of the boat to a sailor on deck, by one of the three gentlemen who had it in charge, with no more ceremony than if it had been his cloak. Before it could possibly be announced that the corpse was safe on deck, the sailors were busily employed in unfurling the sails, and in less then ten minutes the "Pioneer" was under sail, to join the "Glasgow" frigate. The body and the mourners were at length received on board the "Glasgow," and here followed perplexity upon perplexity. The captain had not been informed of the probable number in this melancholy procession, and was incompetent to set before them sufficient food, or furnish them with suitable accommodation. Corn beef was therefore their daily fare;

[[23]]and hammocks, slung under the guns, were the beds assigned to the gentlemen, while the ladies were very little better provided for in the confined cabins. The coffin was placed in a separate cabin, guarded by soldiers, and with lights continually burning. On the 19th of August, the "Glasgow" appeared before the port at Cuxhaven; and, as she drew too much water to get up the Stade, she resigned her charge to the "Wye," commanded by Captain Fisher.

On Monday evening, the 20th, the remains of the Queen of England were landed at Stade. The coffin, without pall, or covering of any kind, was brought up the creek, a distance of three miles, the mourners following in boats. On their arrival at the quay, no preparation had been made for receiving the body on shore, and had it not been for the sympathy of the inhabitants of the place, the coffin must have been laid upon the earth; but they were so impressed with the necessity of paying regard to decency, and so incensed against the heartless and abominable conduct manifested towards the queen, that they, as if by one consent, brought out their tables and chairs, to afford an elevation for the coffin from the ground; and thus a kind of platform was raised, on which it was protected from further injury. After a short delay, arising from want of due notice having been given of the arrival of the procession, the citizens of the town, headed by the magistrates and priests, proceeded to meet it. The coffin was then taken up, and carried into the

[[24]]church, which was lighted, and partially hung with black. A solemn anthem was sung, accompanied by the deep-toned organ; after which the numberless crowd retired, leaving the royal corpse to the care of those who were appointed to watch over it. Early the next day the procession departed for Buxtehude. About a quarter of a mile from this town, it was met by the citizens and magistrates, who attended it, bareheaded, to the church, where the royal remains were deposited for the night. On the ensuing day, the 22nd, the procession was met on its entrance into Saltan, by the authorities, in the same manner as before named. On the 23d, it reached Celle, where the coffin was carried into the great church of the city, and placed upon the tomb of the unfortunate sister of George the Third, Matilda, Queen of Denmark. On the 24th, the procession was met at Offau, by Count Aldenslaben, the grand chamberlain of the court, and arrangements were made, that the funeral should take place at midnight. The mourners were immediately to proceed to Brunswick, and the funeral procession to follow, so as to arrive by ten the same night at the gates of the city, there to be met by the mourners; but further delay of interment than this was strictly forbidden. At the appointed hour, the last stage of the cavalcade commenced. On a near approach to the church, whose vaults were to receive the remains of this royal victim, the children of a school (founded and supported by a lady of truly patriotic principles) walked before the

[[25]]hearse, strewing flowers on the road. Arriving at the church, the Brunswick soldiers demanded the privilege to bear the remains of their beloved princess through the church to the vault, in which were deposited those of her illustrious ancestors. This being granted, the corpse was borne by as many of them as could stand under the coffin into the abode of death. It was then placed upon an elevation in the centre of the vault, which had previously been prepared for its reception, and where it will remain until another occupy its place; her majesty's coffin will then be removed to the space appointed for it. After an oration had been delivered in German, the curtain was drawn over our persecuted and destroyed queen. The mourners retired, and the assembled crowds dispersed, shortly after two o'clock.

It may possibly be asked, "Did not the nephew of the queen (the son of her brother, the late duke) meet the funeral, and follow it to the last abode of royalty?" To the eternal disgrace of George the Fourth, this youth was not permitted to do so. The kingdom of Brunswick was governed by two commissioners, under the controul of the King of England, and the young prince had been commanded to leave Brunswick previous to the ceremony of the interment of his aunt! The inhabitants of Brunswick had also been ordered to keep within their houses, to shut their windows, and not to appear upon the occasion. This imperious order was generally attended to. One gentleman, however, was independent and noble-minded enough to furnish

[[26]]flambeaux to be carried before and on each side of the procession, until it had reached the church. Every expression of the inhabitants indicated how much they were attached to the Princess of Brunswick, and the more superior and well-informed part of the community mourned that her days had been blighted by the delusive prospects held out to her family, in her alliance to the heir-apparent of England. The Brunswickers were afraid to express their sentiments in public companies; but, privately, they could not suppress their opinions, that "it was very strange not the least notice of the funeral had been communicated to them until the evening previous to the ceremony."

These unconstitutional and vindictive arrangements for the queen's funeral will ever be considered an indelible stain on the characters of those who concocted them. The law enacts that the dead shall be carried the nearest way to the place of interment; but the "notorious government" laid all possible restrictions in this case, and, in short, offered every indignity to the departed. If the English people had been resolute, and the lord mayor but consented, the body might have been taken into the Mansion-House, and the corpse EXAMINED, previous to its being taken from London, as considerable suspicion was caused by the unusual privacy and secrecy required immediately after her majesty's demise. The lord mayor (Thorpe) was the acknowledged friend of the queen, and ought not to have demurred to the generally-expressed opinion upon this subject.

[[27]]It was rather a peculiar circumstance that George the Fourth should have contrived so well to be out of the way of death, both in his daughter's and his consort's case! But the prerogatives of royalty are numerous as well as unnatural, particularly when exercised by DESPOTIC PRINCES, who live only for their own gratification, and with whom the good of the people is an unimportant consideration. When the tidings of her majesty's death were communicated to her heartless husband by Lord Londonderry, the royal yacht was lying in Holyhead roads. Etiquette prevented the landing of the king while the unburied remains of his consort were upon English ground; therefore, despatches were forwarded to cause the first lord of the Treasury to press for an early removal of the body of the queen, in order that facility might be given to the landing of the king in Ireland.

After paying this formal attention to the awful intelligence he had received, his majesty landed at Howth, and, as soon as he had reached the viceregal lodge, addressed the gaping multitude in the following eloquent speech:

"My Lords and Gentlemen, and
my good Yeomanry,

"I cannot express to you the gratification at the kind and warm reception I have met with on this day of my landing amongst my Irish subjects. I am obliged to you, very much obliged to you; I am particularly obliged by your escorting me to my very door. I may not be able to express my feelings as I wish. I have travelled far; that is, I have made a long sea voyage; I have sailed down the English Channel, and sailed up the Irish Channel; and I have

[[28]]landed from a steam boat; besides which, particular circumstances have occurred, known to you all, of which it is BETTER, at present, not to speak (alluding to the queen's sudden death) upon these subjects. I leave it to your DELICATE and generous hearts to APPRECIATE MY FEELINGS! However, I can assure you that THIS IS THE HAPPIEST DAY OF MY LIFE! I have long wished to visit you; my heart has always been IRISH!! From the day it first beat, I have loved Ireland. This day has shewn me, that I am beloved by my Irish subjects. Rank, station, honours, are nothing; but to feel that I live in the hearts of my Irish subjects is, to me, the most exalted happiness!

"I must now, once more, thank you for your kindness, and bid you farewell. Go and do by me as I shall do by you; drink my health in a bumper; and I shall drink all your's in a bumper of good Irish whiskey!!!"

Who that reads this address will not acknowledge his majesty's genius for speaking was equal to his talents for ruling? Shades of Fox, Grattan, and Sheridan, what a display of eloquence was here, delivered, too, by the "most polished man in Europe!" We may easily account for the rapturous admiration which the Irish people evinced for their monarch! Naturally eloquent themselves, they knew how to appreciate the energy and beauty of what a king addressed to their taste and understanding. When he assured them, in the most elegant and lofty language, that "his heart was entirely Irish," and that, in proof of the sincerity of his royal professions, he would "drink all their healths in a bumper of good Irish whiskey," they felt, with its superiority, the exhilirating stimulant of kingly declamation, and yielded to all the ecstacy that forms so prominent a characteristic of their sensations. The declaration of a British king, that his heart was wholly Irish

[[29]]was a kindness as highly strained, with respect to them, as disheartening to the feelings of all his other subjects. Great as was our admiration of the nobleness, both in matter and style, of this oratorical display, we scarcely were able, for a time, to reconcile our startled judgment to the perfect equity of this sudden partiality for a people who had never before experienced any mighty favours from the same quarter. But our error, we frankly confess, was the child of our stupidity: we understood his majesty to the simple letter, rather than in the royal meaning, of what he addressed to his long-forsaken children, and were too dull to understand his language till some time afterwards, when he visited his German dominions. But when, after assuring his Hibernian subjects that his heart was wholly Irish, he, in the same exquisite style, protested that his heart was entirely Hanoverian, we were wise enough to comprehend his majesty. There is a kind of ductility in this sort of affection that soars as much above the ordinary course of human feeling as the language in which the sentiment is conveyed surpasses the general powers of lingual eloquence. Such goodness and such eloquence may be ADMIRED, but we hope they will never be COPIED!

However gaily and flatteringly his majesty was received by his Irish subjects, all unbiassed people were shocked at the unbecoming incongruity of a king lost in the intoxication of mirth and wine, while his persecuted consort's passing hearse was calling forth the tears of his pitying people. Even under circumstances the most proper and respectful

[[30]]towards her late majesty, in regard to the conveyance of her remains to their destined place of rest, the appalling knowledge that, while her obsequies were performing, her husband's heart and soul were wrapped in the transports of convivial enjoyment, would have deepened the gloom of the dismal occasion, and excited exclamations of anguish and astonishment; but, witnessing the sordid neglect and studied insult with which the government conducted the melancholy preparation and procession, they combined with the sad spectacle the idea of her husband's simultaneous joy and merriment, and felt disgusted at such indecent and unmanly conduct. Of the qualities of the Irish character, generally viewed, there is much to admire; they are liberal and kind-hearted, and, in some few instances, have shewn a public spirit and a manly sense of their political wrongs and oppressions. We cannot, however, compliment either their delicacy, as men, in not feeling for the cruel death of an amiable woman, or their loyalty, as subjects, in slighting the memory of their sacrificed queen. At the cold indifference manifested by the Hibernian ladies, at this period, we were perfectly amazed. Over and above the tenderness natural to their hearts, their sex had an interest in her case, which ought to have awakened their concern, and commanded their tears. But the whole drama of life abounds with discordant scenes; and, without female inconsistency, the piece would be incomplete.

"All the world's a stage,
And men and women are the players!"

[[31]]A tyrant drops his head upon the scaffold, and they weep!—an innocent queen is poisoned, and they "show no sign of sorrow!"—a cruel, cowardly yeomanry, and a brutal, sanguinary soldiery, massacre an unarmed populace, and thanks and a subscription acknowledge and reward their heroism!—here a people are stripped of their rights and privileges, and content themselves with complaining!—there a country is everwhelmed in penury and wretchedness, and finds a cure for all its distresses in the casual visit of its despotic ruler, and his unmeaning and stupid speeches!

The despicable figure which the king made at this period, and the fulsome flatteries bestowed upon him by the Irish people, did not escape the keen penetration of the illustrious and patriotic Lord Byron. We had the pleasure of his lordship's acquaintance for some years before his lamented death; and he was in the habit of sending us many brilliant effusions of his muse, which he probably never intended for publication. But the following verses, on the subject of which we have just been speaking, possess so much poetical beauty and justness of expression, that we cannot refrain from gratifying our readers by inserting them in this place.

THE IRISH AVATER[31:A].

Ere the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her grave,
And her ashes still float to their home o'er the tide;
Lo! George the triumphant speeds over the wave
To the long-cherish'd isle, which he lov'd like his—bride.

[[32]]True, the great of her bright and brief era are gone,—
The rainbow-like epoch, where freedom would pause
For the few little years out of centuries won,
Which betray'd not, or crush'd not, or wept not her cause.

True, the chains of the Catholic clank o'er his rags;
The castle still stands, and the senate's no more;
And the famine, which dwelt on her freedomless crags,
Is extending its steps to her desolate shore.

To her desolate shore,—where the emigrant stands
For a moment to gaze, ere he flies from his hearth;
Tears fall on his chain, though it drops from his hands,
For the dungeon he quits is—the place of his birth!

But he comes! the Messiah of royalty comes!
Like a goodly leviathan roll'd from his waves;
Then receive him, as best such an advent becomes,
With a legion of cooks and an army of slaves!

He comes, in the promise and bloom of three-score,
To perform in the pageant the sovereign's part;
And long live the shamrock which shadows him o'er,—
Could the green on his hat be transferred to his heart.

Could that long-withered spot but be verdant again,
And a new spring of noble affections arise,
Then might freedom forgive thee this dance in thy chain,
And the shout of thy slavery which saddens the skies.

Is it madness or meanness which clings to thee now?
Were he God,—as he is but the commonest clay,
With scarce fewer wrinkles than sins on his brow,—
Such servile devotion might shame him away.

Age roar in his train, let thine orators lash
Their fanciful spirits to pamper his pride;
Not thus did thy Grattan indignantly flash
His soul o'er the freedom improved and denied.

Ever glorious Grattan! the best of the good!
So simple in heart, so sublime in the rest,
With all that Demosthenes wanted endued,
And his rival, or victor, in all he possess'd.

[[33]]When Tully arose, in the zenith of Rome,
Tho' unequalled preceded, the task was begun;
But Grattan sprung up like a god from the tomb!
Of ages, the first, last, the saviour, the one.

With the skill of an Orpheus to soften the brute,
With the fire of Prometheus to kindle mankind,
Even Tyranny, listening, sat melted, or mute,
And Corruption shrunk, scorch'd, from the glance of his mind.

But back to my theme; back to despots and slaves!
Feasts furnished by Famine, rejoicings by Pain;
True Freedom but welcomes, while Slavery still raves,
When a week's Saternalia has loosened her chain.

Let the poor squalid splendour thy wreck can afford
(As the bankrupt's profusion his ruin would hide)
Gild over the palace. Lo, Erin, thy lord!
Kiss his foot with thy blessing for blessings denied.

Or if freedom, past hope, be extorted at last;
If the idol of brass find his feet are of clay;
Must what terror, or policy, wring forth be class'd
With what monarchs ne'er give but as wolves yield their prey?

Each brute hath its nature,—a king's is to reign;
To reign!—in that word see, ye ages, comprised
The cause of the curses all annals contain,
From Cæsar the dreaded to George the despised!

Wear, Fingal, thy trappings! O'Connell proclaim
His accomplishments!—His!!!—and thy country convince
Half an age's contempt was an error of fame,
And that "Hal is the rascaliest, sweetest young prince!"

Will thy yard of blue ribbon, poor Fingal, recall
The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs?
Or will it not bind thee the fastest of all
The slaves, who now hail their betrayer with hymns?

Aye, build him a dwelling; let each give his mite,
Till, like Babel, the new royal dome has arisen;
Let thy beggars and helots their pittance unite,
And a palace bestow for a poor-house and prison.

[[34]]Spread, spread for Vitellius the royal repast,
Till the gluttonous despot is stuff'd to the gorge,
And the roar of his drunkards proclaim him at last
The FOURTH of the fools and oppressors,—called George!

Let the tables be loaded with feasts till they groan,—
Till they groan like thy people through ages of woe;
Let the wine flow around the old Bachanal's throne,
Like the blood which has flow'd, and which yet has to flow.

But let not his name be thine idol alone;
On his right hand, behold a Sejanus appears!
Thine own Castlereagh!—let him still be thine own!
A wretch never nam'd but with curses and jeers!

Till now, when the isle, which should blush at his birth,
Deep, deep as the gore which he shed on her soil,
Seems proud of the reptile which crawl'd from her earth,
And for murder repays him with shouts and a smile!

Without one single ray of her genius, without
The fancy, the manhood, the fire of her race,
The miscreant, who well might plunge Erin in doubt
If she ever gave birth to a being so base.

If she did, let her long-boasted proverb be hush'd,
Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can spring;
See, the cold-blooded serpent, with venom full flush'd,
Still warming its folds in the breast of a king!

Shout, drink, feast, and flatter! Oh, Erin, how low
Wert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny, till
Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee below
The depth of thy deep to a deeper gulph still.

My voice, though but humble, was rais'd for thy right;
My vote, as a freeman's, still voted thee free;
This hand, tho' but feeble, would arm in thy fight,
And this heart, tho' outworn, had a throb still for thee!

Yes, I love thee and thine, tho' thou art not my land;
I have known noble hearts and great souls in thy sons,
And I wept with the world o'er the patriot band
Who are gone,—but I weep them no longer as once.

[[35]]For happy are they now reposing afar,
Thy Grattan, thy Curran, thy Sheridan,—all
Who for years were the chiefs in the eloquent war,
And redeem'd, if they have not retarded, thy fall.

Yes, happy are they in their cold English graves;
Their shades cannot start to thy shouts of to-day,
Nor the steps of enslavers and chain-kissing slaves
Be stamp'd in the turf o'er their fetterless clay.

Till now I had envied thy sons and thy shore;
Tho' their virtues were hunted, their liberties fled,
There was something so warm and sublime in the core
Of an Irishman's heart, that I envy their dead!

Or if aught in my bosom can quench for an hour
My contempt for a nation so servile, tho' sore,
Which, tho' trod like the worm, will not turn upon power,
'Tis the glory of Grattan, the genius of Moore!

Speedily after the queen's death, Lord Sidmouth retired from office, and was succeeded by Mr. Robert Peel. Several other changes also took place in the ministry.

There was only one occurrence that could have been more gratifying to the people of England than the secession of Lord Sidmouth from office, and that was—his being rendered amenable to the laws for his share in the frequent outrages of the constitution, and his almost numberless violations of the liberties of the subject. We had hoped that he would have remained in office until he had received his FULL REWARD, in the return of the days of ministerial responsibility, in spite of bills of indemnity and venal majorities. But, for the honour of justice, we hope yet to see the day when he shall be subject to an

[[36]]honest tribunal for his political misdeeds. His name will ever awaken the liveliest indignation in the bosoms of Englishmen; not, indeed, that his talents made him formidable against the liberties of his country, but because he so readily lent himself to the dangerous views of his superiors. Personally, he was of no importance. The son of a provincial medicine-vender, he had neither rank nor birth to command respect. The tool of Mr. Pitt in early life, Mr. Addington had cunning enough to stipulate for a peerage just at the time he was found unfit for a minister. The failure of his attempt to abridge the liberties of the dissenters covered him with disgrace. Such a design should have been entrusted to abler hands; but it was not his lordship's fault that the dissenters escaped religious persecution. His next exploit, however, proved more successful; he declared eternal hatred of reform and reformers in 1816. The seizure, the imprisonments, the tortures, and the outrages, occasioned by the employment of his moral friend Oliver have, in the language of Pope, occasioned him to be

"Damned to everlasting fame!"

The liberation of his victims, after long confinements, ruined in circumstances, wounded in mind, and some of them destined to premature death, through their unwholesome confinement, complete the picture of this nobleman's LEGISLATION! To prevent an investigation into such cruel acts, a bill of indemnity screened his lordship, his agents, and

[[37]] minions, from the tribunals of that day; but if earthly justice should never be vindicated, there is a tribunal before which he must one day meet his victims! The part which Lord Sidmouth had in the reward of the Manchester massacre is well known, and will not be likely to add to the quiet of his repose. This lamentable portion of his history involves the double charge of misadvising his prince, and patronising a violation of the laws, in the most wanton and cruel manner! No man, indeed, has been more instrumental in the ruin of his country, and he may probably live to reap some of the bitter fruits himself!

During this year, the affable king made his pompous entrance into Hanover, where he threw gold and silver amongst the crowd, with as much confidence as if it had been his own!! If he had allowed some of this said "gold and silver" to have remained in the pockets of its real owners, it would have redounded much more to his credit.

In one single week this year, eleven persons were hung for forging Bank of England notes. Such a sanguinary penal code of laws as our's would really disgrace a nation of savages! Even our common laws, which ought to be intelligible to the meanest understanding, are an unfathomable abyss, and frequently exceed the utmost penetration of even the "gentlemen of the long robe." Indeed, our laws appear designed to perplex rather than to elucidate, to breed contentions rather than to prevent them. The principal MERIT of the English jurisprudence seems

[[38]]to consist in its intricacy, and the learned professors of it may almost be said to live upon the vitals of their clients. It not unfrequently happens that, for trivial omissions upon some useless observance of forms, the victim is incarcerated in a prison, and, after enduring all the horrors of these dens of thieves, expires in want, disease, and apparent infamy!

The year

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