all means calculated to disturb their rights of property, or to put in jeopardy their peace and internal tranquillity, are in direct opposition to the spirit in which the union was formed, and must endanger its safety. Motives of philanthropy may be assigned for this unwarrantable interference; and weak men may persuade themselves for a moment that they are laboring in the cause of humanity, and asserting the rights of the human race; but every one upon sober reflection will see that nothing but mischief can come from these improper assaults upon the feelings and rights of others. Rest assured that the MEN FOUND BUSY IN THIS WORK OF

DISCORD ARE NOT WORTHY OF YOUR CONFIDENCE, AND DESERVE YOUR STRONGEST REPROBATION."

We are now embarked in a campaign of unsual importance, and the democracy will not fail to observe that their choice lies between a manly and loyal support of the representative of the principles summed up in the known creed and charter of the democratic party, and a base and traitorous desertion of them all by espousing the cause of their avowed enemy. In such a juncture, neutrality is equivalent to hostility-he who is not with us, is against us; and every vote withheld is a ballot for the opposition.

The alternative that presents itself to the people at the coming election, is, on one hand, a candidate more eminently national upon all the great questions of the day than perhaps any other man in the Union-" a northern man," who, so far from opposing the annexation of Texas, has not only regarded with a clear and just view, but vigorously supported the progress of the people, as well in the direction of Oregon as in that of California and Mexico; whose youthful service against the common enemy of the United States and Ireland are still the dread of Canadian royalists; whose councils in the cabinet have been an able support in our contest with Mexico, and whose victorious diplomacy humbled the British government in the eyes of the world, while it ensured the freedom of the seas to our commerce and toiling seamen; and who, with a thorough understanding and elaborate acquaintance with the great principles of the Democratic party, has never flinched in their support. On the other hand, we have a soldier, fresh from the most brilliant victories against a foreign enemy, but who has, avowedly, not only no acquaintance whatever with the various subjects of internal policy that have agitated the country for fifty years, but has never sufficiently estimated the advantages of self-government to exercise the privilege of voting a soldier absorbed in war, and ripe for deeds of military daring, has not busied himself with the duties of a citizen. The discipline of the camp has been more congenial than the equality of citizenship. Federalism has fastened upon the recent brilliant military achievements of this leader to establish in the national government all those fatal practical measures and pernicious principles against which Democracy has contended for more than half a century-national banks, bankrupt-laws, distribution of public lands, high tariffs, the ruinous financial and commercial policy of Englandin a word, the general application to all occasions that may arise of that latitudinarian construction of the constitution for which that party has ever been distinguished. In order to defeat the Democratic party, and to confer this great power of mischief upon the old federal party, of which he has become the ally, Mr. Van Buren puts himself in nomination against the regular candidate, (for none are so deceived as to doubt the immediate dictation of that personage in all the steps that have led to the Utica Convention) to run upon the sole federal principle, if principle it may be called, of opposition to the harmonious extension of territory; wherein he is aided by the co-operation of the emissaries of the English aristocray, who for so many years have sought to divide the Union by promoting dissensions between the north and south.

man.

The issues proposed by the seceding faction are of so self-contradictory and puerile a character as scarcely to merit the consideration of a sensible The united democracy of the country has nominated a northern man who represents all the great leading democratic principles. The Whig party have nominated a slaveholder, with the understanding that he is to carry out Whig principles. With a hypocritical cry of "free soil," the bolters disorganise the democratic party for the express purpose of placing the slaveholder in power, affording an opportunity of selling out to his interest in the house. With what consistency can these men pretend to democracy and the advocacy of "free soil," when they pursue a course calculated to throw the government and its patronage, by the operation of corruption, into the hands, for four years, of federalists, under a slavehoding leader? The triumph of principle can form no part of the calculations of these men, a struggle for spoils is assuredly the extent of their aspirations. The consistency of their philanthrophic pretences becomes clearly apparent when we reflect that the individuals who now are solicitous as to the internal regulation of states nearly 2,000 miles distant, are identically those who, in New-York, have refused to extend the right of suffrage to free blacks. Under the new constitution of the State of New-York free blacks are not represented at all, and they have a right to vote, only in case they are possessed of, and pay taxes on real estate, of the value of $250. These same blacks who are not represented in the state Assembly are represented in Congress. Thus, in the fifth congressional district, there are 3,444 blacks represented in Congress and not represented in the state. A resolution to submit to the people the question of black suffrage, was negatived, at the polls, by a majority of near 140,000 votes. There are in the State of New-York 43,000 blacks that, having no votes and no state representation, make up the constituency of the members of Congress, when the same state of things at the south is complained of as an intolerable inequality of representation.

Let no man deceive himself with the idea that the prevention of slavery in territory where it has not before existed is the only object of these people. It is but an incipient step to a total overthrow of the constitution, and a violent inroad upon southern rights. We have but to call attention to one of the resolutions adopted by Mr. Van Buren's agents at Utica, as follows:

Resolved, That our political action is based upon purely democratic principles, involving the natural rights and liberty of man-that a compromise of these principles would be a surrender of them, to which we cannot submit; that consistency and duty require that we support, by onr influence and suffrages, no other candidate for any office, than those who are openly identified with us in principle, feeling and action in the advancing of free speech, free action, free territory, free trade, and free institutions.

The import of the words "free speech," "free action," "free institutions," is openly avowed to mean the right of going into the southern states and publishing and speaking abolition doctrines, and by "free action," to incite to insurrection, and promote a servile war, if need be. The words bear no other construction than this, by which the advocates of the resolution passed seek to secure the abolition votes. All patriots and true friends of the country will pause before they lend countenance, directly or indirectly, to this soul-harrowing course.

Happily, however, through an accidental publication, the American public, and the world at large, have become well acquainted with the utterly dissolute and abandoned characters of the political roues who are the chief actors in this abominable attempt upon the integrity of the Union.

*Disclosures of the Intrigues of New York Politicians. Published by Taylor & Co., 2 Astor House. 1845.

THE LAST OF THE CONDES.

THE world's history is, to so great a degree, the record of individual achievement, that our interest in it, or in any period of it, is sure to centre around a few conspicuous actors. It is the personal fortunes of great men we follow through the labyrinths of circumstance and change; it is their successes or catastrophies that mark in our recollection the successive epochs of time. How often it happens that the chronicle of a reign is dull and uninstructive, in comparison with the contemporary biographies that are only accompaniments and illustrations of it; so inferior in interest is the history of events to the history of lives. Take, for example, the century and a half following the death of Louis XIII. of France; how brilliant and entertaining-how historically complete, as well-the array of memoirs that throw into the shade the useless lumber of court historiographers; flooding the whole period with light, to the infinite profit of subsequent authors, whose literary schemes happen to lead them into its circle, where, with very little effort of their own, like the swimmers in the blue grotto of Capri, they straightway become luminous all over with borrowed brilliancy. The life of the great Condé, which Lord Mahon has very cleverly condensed from the rambling garrulities of" Mademoiselle," Madme. de Sévigné's sparkling letters, and the voluminous journals of de Retz, Montpensier, St. Simon, Gourville, and a Lost of other material, whose superabundance is its only fault, is a good illustration of this latter truth so far as authorship is concerned, and also of the charm of biographical narrative first alluded to. Condé was only one out of the many great men who figured in the court of the Grande Monarque; but every heroic life is complete by itself, and gains force and prominence by being detached from the perplexing crowd of contemporary affairs and persons. Louis Quatorze is famous by himself; Mazarin has his separate claims for an isolated immortality; so has Anne of Austria, so Turenne, so Condé. We never re

member men's countenances as parts of a crowd of faces, but because, in spite of the crowd, they impress upon us their own characteristics. Just so is our estimation of the individual actors in the world's drama, distinct and personal. Were it not, how much of the romance of travel would be lost. Where would be the satisfaction of authenticating one's impressions of character in the midst of the scenes that formed it; of reviving famous memories along with famous associations? Where one's enthusiasm at the birthplaces and abodes of genius, or at the battle-fields and graves of beroes?

This is the rationale of a visit which we made in the fall of 1846, to CHANTILLY, the favorite residence of the great Condé. Ten years ago it would have been a pilgrimage, for we should have gone in a post-chaise, or on lumbering French wheels of some sort or another, as all well-disposed Protestant pilgrims have been in the habit of arriving at continental shrines for the last half century of travel. But rail-roads are fatal to this species of romance. The tourist of 1846-7-8, and so on, is haunted all over Europe by the wheezing, whirling, St. Vitus spectre of Modern Improvement. He is whizzed into Venice at the rate of fifteen miles per hour, over a substantial bridge spanning the waters with the stoniest sort of indifference to the seaweeds of the "spouseless Adriatic;" is set down at the Pompeii station of the Naples and Castelamare Railroad; and with all the nonchalance of the

nineteenth century, "stops over a train" to explore the wonders of Heidelberg and the Wolfsbrunnen.

Chantilly is now at a convenient distance of only three or four miles from the Chemin de fer du Nord, and is an easy détour, even for travellers in a hurry, en route from Amiens to Paris. Leaving the train at St. Leu, an omnibus rattles over the hilly road leading to the village; and it was in this republican conveyance that we made our entry, an American party of three, with a grand clatter, into the court-yard of the Hotel d'Angleterre.

The cold, dark, deserted Salle à manger, with its bare stone floor and great unlighted chimney, augured ill; but the speedy appearance of the landlady, with a couple of bougies, an illuminated edition of good humor and hospitality, followed in the natural order of sequences by a blazing fire on the broad hearth, and active preparations for a good dinner, soon brought about a restoration of confidence. The evening went off pleasantly in that inexhaustible, after dinner, fireside chat of travellers-the staple whereof is to-day's experience and to-morrow's anticipations, and we went to bed fully prepared to enjoy that "bon repos" which every considerate French landlady wishes her guests.

Next morning the black-eyed fille de chambre showed us a short cut to the château. It was a pleasant road, running along the outskirts of the town, parallel to the main street within, leading us, with considerable saving of paving stones and distance, past a row of nice rural residences, fronting on the smooth plain that intervenes between the town and the forest of Chantilly. Presently we came to a vast ruin, whose grand proportions and imposing front, as it stood on an eminence at some distance from the town, led us to suppose it the remains of the great château, which we knew had been destroyed in the old Revolution. But a reference to Murray proved it to be only the ruins of the stables-built in the most princely style, to contain 180 horses; and even now, in their dilapidation, roofless and crumbling, a splendid pile, easily to be mistaken for a palace. Speaking of Condé's stables, suggests an anecdote, which illustrates some traits of his character, and perhaps from its subject matter, may be appropriately enough brought in, in this equestrian connexion. He hated a punctilious regard to etiquette and the tiresome court forms of his day; and on one occasion, when the ceremonious Duke de Candale, who was making him a visit, and who never allowed himself to speak even of his own father, the Duke d'Epernon, without adding the word Monsieur; Condé, whose patience was quite exhausted, exclaimed-"Monsieur, my master of the horse, tell Monsieur, my coachman, to harness Messieurs, my horses, to the carriage !" Further on, we reached the gate of the park, and by virtue of a billet d' entrée, were admitted into its enclosure, free to explore its beauties at will. The grounds are charmingly disposed, unlike the stiff magnificence of Versailles, where " grove nods to grove, each alley has its brother"-with less regard to mathematics, and more deference to nature.

It was Condé himself who delighted to direct their arrangement and deco ration. He had a natural fondness for gardening, which here found ample room for its exercise. The shady avenues, the entangled shrubbery, the crystal sheets of water, the cool retreats and sunny lawns, are all souvenirs of the hero. True it is, that the Chantilly of to-day is sadly fallen from its high estate, and the glowing descriptions of Desormeaux and Gourville, who dwell on its magnificence as worthy of note, even in the extravagant era of its creation, far surpass its present reality. "The parterres and stately statues; the prodigious number of fountains which were heard night and day, and which were ever refreshing the air; the grand canal, whose works cost upwards of 40,000 livres yearly;" of these, the Revolution de

stroyed the most. "But nature," says Lord Mahon, who visited Chantilly with a reverent enthusiasm, "does not yield so readily to the violence of man, and knows how to repair his ravages. Not long ago, (in September, 1841,) I could still find scope to admire the wild recesses of that unpruned forest, those limpid and gushing streams, those light green Arbele poplars, which have taken root amongst the ruins of the Grand Château, and which now surround it with their quivering shade; those mossy paths, and those hawthorne bowers; those gardens restored with care, and where the most beautiful orange trees and the most brilliant flowers are once more shedding their fragrance."

In the midst of this luxuriant beauty stood formerly two palaces, the Grand Chateau and the Petit Chateau, as they were called. Of these, the former, as I have already said, was long since destroyed. The indiscriminate ravages of the Revolution were fatal to its preservation. Its useless splendor, and the accumulations of ornament and art which it contained, found no favor in the sight of the republicans of '92. Besides, the princely halls of Chantilly were reminiscences of the old régime, a perpetual souvenir of the hated Bourbons, a monument of a doomed aristocracy and a dethroned race. Its destruction was complete; a palace once, and now a ruin-such is its short history. But though thus blotted from almost any traces of existence, the associations that surround the decaying walls are neither few nor insignificant. It was here that an heroic career attained the summit of its grandeur in that calm retirement, which is the crown of a successful life. After thirty-five years of action and renown, it was here that Condé, in the enjoyment of kind companionship, the recollection of an eventful life, and the practice of congenial pursuits, solaced and enlivened his old age. Looking back from this quiet retreat upon the scenes of his past career, checquered by every variety of fortune, the retrospect can hardly have failed to astonish even himself. We can imagine the veteran hero retracing the steps by which he had mounted, through half a century of toil, to the eminence of his fame; and it would be hard to find a picture more varied by the lights and shadows of destiny, than that which such a contemplation would afford. A quiet prelude to the after years of incessant activity and intrigue, were his school days, in the old provincial city of Bourges, where, under the charge of La Boussiere, and "stern Father Pelletier," and "kind Father Goutier," he learned the rudiments, and carried off the palm amongst the crowd of scholars; where, too, on the old Gothic balustrade of Jacques Coeurs's mansion, he read, and perhaps adopted as his own, the inspiring motto,

"A vaillants Cœurs, rien impossible."

From this opening scene, the events of his life follow in quick succession. The rash generalship of the armies of Picardy and Champagne confided to him, an inexperienced youth of twenty, less from any ability already displayed, than from the obsequious policy of Mazarin, then fresh in his dangerous authority, and anxious to strengthen his new ministry by a league with the princes of the blood; followed by that tremendous victory in the forests of Rocroy, which made him the first captain of the age, and the strongest support of the ambitious Regency of Anne of Austria; the successive perils and triumphs of Thionville and Fribourg; the campaign of the Rhine; the sieges of Dunkirk and Lerida; the battle of Lens, celebrated as one of the most glorious which the reign of Louis XIV. could boast; these were only the first fruits of a harvest of renown. The dark, unnatural wars of the Fronde; the subtle intrigues of the Louvre, ending in Condé's disgrace, defeat, and year of painful imprisonment, whose rigors were height