read it, as a glorification of the French war-navy at the expense of that of Great Britain, and an incitement to the French government to use their seaforce to burn the towns and villages on the English coasts. There could not be a more preposterous misrepresentation. The aim of the pamphlet was evidently to arouse the attention of the naval authorities of France to what De Joinville asserted to be the utter incapability of the French marine to contend, upon anything like equal terms, with that of Great Britain or of any other great maritime power. It should be read as a corrective of the Jeremiads published on our side of the water upon the weakness and inefficiency of the British navy. There is not a line in the brochure inciting to ill-will towards the British people, or, fairly taken with the context, provocative of jealous or angry feeling. De Joinville is married to a princess of Brazil, sister to the queen of Portugal; the Duke d'Aumale, who has succeeded to the estates of the now extinct Condé branch of the Bourbons, married a daughter of the Sicilian Prince of Salerno; the youngest son, M. de Montpensier, as we have already stated, is the husband of the Infanta of Spain. All these marriages have been fruitful in progeny, so that should France ever decree the restoration of the House of Orleans, there will be no lack of heirs to avail themselves of the invitation. The two surviving daughters of Louis-Philippe are married-one to the king of the Belgians; the other to Augustus, Prince of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. Madame Adelaide, Louis-Philippe's tenderlybeloved and attached sister, whose counsels he is said to have greatly deferred to, died not long before the catastrophe of 1848.

The extinction of the celebrated line of Condé in the year 1830, by the death, without surviving issue, of Louis, Henry, Joseph de Bourbon and Prince de Condé, must not be omitted in this brief glance at the history of the Bourbon race. He committed suicide at the Castle of St Leu, by hanging himself with his handkerchief in his bedroom on the 27th of August 1830, being then seventy-five years of age. There have been various causes assigned for the insanity which prompted the dreadful act. The prevalent opinion is, that his mind, never a very strong one, was harassed by the conflicting claims to his allegiance of the elder and junior branches of the Bourbons-whether he should swear fealty to the monarch de facto, Louis-Philippe, or follow the king, de jure, according to orthodox legitimacy, into exile. Incapable of deciding, he hanged himself. More than half a century before his death-in 1776—this prince fought a duel with the very Charles X. who had just been driven from the throne; and as an illustration of the princely manners of the time, it may be as well to subjoin an account of it. Charles, then Count D'Artois, was walking with a lady, both being masked. The Duchess of Bourbon, desirous, doubtless, of ascertaining the count's identity, pulled his mask by the beard; the strings broke, and he was discovered. Enraged at this, the Count d'Artois seized the duchess's mask, and broke it. The Duke of Bourbon, it appears, thought that the sex of the duchess ought to have shielded her from retaliation, and challenged the count to mortal combat. The combatants met in the Bois de Boulogne, where they fought with swords, till the Chevalier de Crussal, imagining that the count's sword passed under the arm of the duke, and that he was therefore wounded, stopped the fight; and the redoubtable knights, the honour of each of

them as free from wound or scratch as his body, left the ground. The will of the Duke of Bourbon testified to a weakness or aberration of intellect quite sufficient to account for his unhappy death. An Englishwoman, Sophia Dawes, once a bar-maid, but created Baroness de Feuchères, was living with him at the time of his death. To her he bequeathed 2,000,000 francs in money, and for life the château and park of Saint-Leu; the château and estate of Boisny with all their dependencies; the forest of Montmorency and dependencies; the château and estate of Morfontaine and dependencies; the Pavillon occupied by her and her servants at the Palais-Bourbon, as well as its dependencies; the furniture of said Pavillon, and the horses and carriages appertaining to the lady's establishment—all free from costs or expenses chargeable upon bequeathed property. The residuary legatee was the Duke d'Aumale. After some litigation, an arrangement was effected with Mrs Sophia Dawes, and the Duc d'Aumale now possesses the vast property.

Thus briefly, and, as we believe, faithfully, have we traced the rise, progress, and present condition of this remarkable family, which, it will have been observed, even in its present condition of comparative humility, still, in addition to enormous wealth, reckons crowns and coronets in considerable number divided among its members.

The dethroned monarch of the elder Bourbons, Charles X., has long since passed to his account; the Duke d'Angoulême has followed him; but the duchess, the widowed daughter of Louis XVI., still lingers in her earthly pilgrimage. She awaits her summons from this, to her doleful and unintelligible world at Froshdrof in Germany, where she dwells in strictest retirement. Early on the morning of each anniversary of her parents' execution this daughter of sorrows secludes herself in a chamber hung round with the insignia of death; and with the black silk vest in which Louis died, and other relics of the martyred king and queen before her, remains in solitary prayer and meditation till the midnight chimes announce that another anniversary of a fatal day has passed into eternity.

The Duke de Bordeaux, Count de Chambord, or whatever title may please him best, is now the cynosure of the legitimate eyes of France. This young prince, who is said to be very amiable and intelligent, married in 1846 a daughter of the late Duke of Modena. The lady was possessed of what is considered on the continent an immense fortune; but the union has not yet produced any possible successor to the regal honours of the elder line of Bourbon. The Duke de Bordeaux, nursed as he has been in the illusions of legitimacy, as it is very incorrectly termed, naturally regards all that is now passing in France as the phantasmagoria of a wild, but, as he trusts, passing hallucination, to be succeeded at no distant day by the solid reality of a Henry V., Dei gratia, et cetera. The Duke of Bordeaux has a sister a year older than himself, who is now the wife of the reigning Duke of Parma. She left pleasing impressions of her beauty and affability among many of the inhabitants of the Canongate, Edinburgh, when she resided there during the sojourn of the royal exiles at Holyrood.

The Bourbons shine in exile. Men differ as to the character and merits of King Louis-Philippe, but not the slightest diversity of opinion exists as to the amiability of disposition and dignified propriety of conduct

exhibited by the Comte de Neuilly and the distinguished family who now chiefly reside at Claremont. May the count-spite of the sinister forebodings for some time rife in the public ear-and his venerable consort yet live many happy, useful years, each as it flits diminishing their natural regrets for the loss of a crown! Their family cannot, we think, fail to read a lesson in what they witness here which, rightly pondered and laid to heart, will perhaps for the unrolled scroll of futurity may have characters little now dreamed of engraved upon it-prove hereafter of inestimable service to them, or to some one among them. It is this: "That the safety of a throne consists not in the multitude of its armed and disciplined guards, nor in the astute devices of kingcraft, but in so reigning that no man shall feel a wish, a desire, to pull down or assail a crown which presents only towards the people an aspect of sympathy, kindness, and respect.'

It may be perhaps expected that we should offer an opinion upon the struggle still going on in France between the parties into which that great country is divided; and as to whether the Bourbons, and which branch of them, have, as we read the future, a chance of regaining authority over the French nation. We confess our utter inability to reply satisfactorily to questions so interesting. We do not profess prophecy; and in place of an unavailing attempt at prediction, beg to present the reader with an anecdote of fact, related by a French writer, Paul Louis Courier, Ancien Canonier à Cheval et Vigneron, as an illustration of the only infallible mode of acquiring a reputation for sound judgment in French politics; premising only that, not having the book at hand, we quote from memory:

'There was a village,' says Courier, 'in the wine districts of France, which, lying quite out of the high road of the great world, its inhabitants only came into contact with any considerable portions of it upon great occasions, and these were fortunately rare. These simple people had been accustomed, at all public displays where they chanced to find themselves, to shout "Vive le Roi!" It was an old respectable tradition this "Vive le Roi!" of which these quiet folk did not profess to penetrate the inner meaning, if it had one. Enough for them that their fathers and fathers' fathers shouted as they shouted "Vive le Roi !" Well, it happened that all at once my country friends found themselves very roughly compelled to drop "Vive le Roi!" at a moment's warning, and to commence learning quite a new creed-" Vive la République, une et indivisible!" This was difficult, for the phrase was long, and our primitive friends were no scholars. Still, being very docile, they set to work with a good heart, and were getting on very well, when-halte!-they were all wrong. They should, if they were honest citizens and good Frenchmen, cry "Vive le Premier Consul!" All this, you may depend upon it, was very perplexing; and I doubt if they ever quite understood the "Consul," which was, they were informed in strictness, one and tripartite;" a depth of mystery of which they did not attempt to skim the surface, much less to fathom the bottom. They were, however, beginning to get used even to consul, when another, and this time very peremptory injunction was issued, commanding all men to repeat, at all possible opportunities, the only orthodox confession of faith-namely, "Vive l'Empereur!" It was a long time before my friends, who, I confess, are rather slow-no wonder, poor fellows! living so far as they do from the capital

of civilisation—it was a long time, I say, before my friends got thoroughly broken into the new refrain; but it was accomplished at last, and charmingly they gave it, as if not the voice alone but the heart shouted! Well, this went on admirably, till one fine day a party of them had been to market, and being a little merry, roared out "Vive l'Empereur!" as they passed some gendarmes, with more than usual gusto and effect; and, to their unspeakable disgust, got knocked on the mazzard, and dragged to jail for uttering seditious cries! It was "Vive le Roi," they were informed, that all respectable people who wished to avoid jails and gendarmes gave joyous utterance to! That same night a council of the old men was called, and after mature deliberation it was resolved, that "Seeing the extreme difficulty of knowing at what precise time either Vive le Roi, Vive la République, Vive l'Empereur, or Vive anything else, was quite appropriate (convenable), it would be advisable, till further notice, to abstain from shouting at all." This decision gave great satisfaction; and being rigorously acted upon, acquired for the villagers,' says Courier, 'an immense reputation for solid sense and sound discernment, so that it was likely their example would soon be very generally followed."

But whatever may be the form of government in France, whether Bourbonic, Bonapartist, Imperial, Royal, or Republican, we can answer for it that the people of this country wish their French neighbours God-speed in their endeavours to establish an enlightened, stable, and progressive system of polity. Both nations have too much earnest work calling, upon tremendous penalties, for immediate performance, to waste their time for ever in devising modes of government. That France, under whatever rule she may choose for herself, may enter earnestly and successfully upon the great domestic task lying before her—as before all other nations—must be the desire of all sensible Englishmen. A selfish aspiration after all; for it is impossible for England or France to be peaceful and prosperous without their neighbours participating in a more or less degree in that peace and prosperity.

THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON.

SOME has a illustrious mau, but after some rigorous

HOME doubt has been allowed to rest upon both the date and place

investigations, it appears tolerably certain, that he was born in Merrion Square, Dublin, on the 29th of April 1769. His father, Garret, Earl of Mornington, was noted as an amateur in musical composition, and some glees by him are still much admired. The mother was Anne, eldest daughter of Arthur Viscount Dungannon. The Wellesleys, or, as they long entitled themselves, Wesleys, had been eminent in Ireland from the time of the first invasion under Henry II., whom their progenitor served as standard-bearer. But the family of the Duke of Wellington had only assumed this name on succeeding to the property of Garret Wesley of Dangan, who had married a collateral relation of the subject of this memoir. The original family name was Colley or Cowley, and the paternal ancestor of the illustrious Duke had come into Ireland as a lawyer in the reign of Henry VIII. Richard Colley, Esq., originally proprietor of Castle-Carbery, a moderate estate in King's County, and afterwards, by bequest, of the estate of the Wesleys in Meath, represented the borough of Trim in parliament, and, in 1746, was ennobled as Baron Mornington—a title which his son exchanged in 1760 for an earldom. By birth and ancestral history, the Duke was thus connected with Ireland, although few of her sons have ever exhibited less affinity to the prevalent traits of the national character.

A startling and significant page in the world's history was opened, and its giant characters were partly traced, during the youth of the future field-marshal. The military power of Great Britain had been successfully withstood by the infant States of America; and the soldiers of despotic France, who had assisted in the vindication of the liberties of the British colonists, returned to their homes, were repeating to eagerly-attentive audiences the strange and thrilling words they had become familiar with in the far-off western world. Daily the fierce and angry murmur grew and strengthened, and it required little sagacity to foresee that men of the sword must reap abundant harvests ere the new principles inaugurated by the rifle-volleys of Bunker's Hill, and so ominously echoed in the most powerful of the continental states of old Europe, should either become