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their appearance, so that he was rather more diffi cult to manage; the only way to restrain him when in a rage, was to hold him by the ears; but, on one occasion, having lost his temper, he tore his cap and gown to pieces. About this time the British Association paid a visit to Oxford, and Tig was an object of much interest. The writer was present on several occasions when he was introduced to breakfast parties of eminent savans, and much amusement was created by his tricks, albeit they were a little rough. In more than one instance he made sad havoc with book-muslins and

however, he conducted himself with great propriety, especially at an evening meeting at Dr. Daubeny's, where he was much noticed, to his evident pleasure.

the warm sunshine, Jacko would cautiously descend from the tree, and, twisting his fingers in Tig's long hair, would give him a sharp pull, and in a moment was up the tree again, chattering and clattering his chain. Tig's anger was most amusing -he would run backwards and forwards on his hind legs, sucking his paws, and, with his eyes fixed on Jacko, uttering all sorts of threats and imprecations, to the great delight of the monkey. He would then again endeavor to take a nap, only to be again disturbed by his little tormentor. How ever, these two animals established a truce, became excellent friends, and would sit for half-an-other fragile articles of female attire; on the whole, hour together, confronting each other, apparently holding a conversation. At the commencement of the long vacation, Tig, with the other members of the university, retired into the country, and was daily taken out for a walk round the village, to the great astonishment of the bumpkins. There was a little shop, kept by an old dame who sold whipcord, sugar-candy, and other matters, and here, on one occasion, Tig was treated to sugar-candy. Soon afterwards he got loose, and at once made off for the shop, into which he burst, to the unutterable terror of the spectacled and high-capped old lady, who was knitting stockings behind the counter-the moment she saw his shaggy head, and heard the appalling clatter of his chain, she rushed up stairs in a delirium of terror. When assistance arrived, the offender was discovered, seated on the counter, helping himself most liberally to brown sugar; and it was with some difficulty, and after much resistance, that he was dragged away.

Still, however, the authority of Christchurch, not being zoologists, had peculiar notions respecting bears; and at length, after numerous threats and pecuniary penalties, the fatal day arrived, and Tig's master was informed that either "he or the bear must leave Oxford the next morning." There was no resisting this, and poor dear Tig was, accordingly, put into a box-a much larger one than that in which he had arrived-and sent off to the Zoological Gardens, Regent's Park; here he was placed in a comfortable den by himself; but, alas! he missed the society to which he had been accustomed, the excitement of a college life, and the numerous charms by which the university was endeared to him; he refused his food; he ran perpetually up and down his den, in the vain hope to escape, and was one morning found dead, a victim to a broken heart!

LAND. London: 1850.
and Brothers.

From the Edinburgh Review.

Reprinted by Harper

Mr. Buckland had made a promise that Tig should pay a visit to a village about six miles distant, and determined that he should proceed thither on horseback. As the horse shied whenever the bear came near him, there was some difficulty in getting him mounted; but at last his master managed to pull him up by the chain, while the horse Foreign Reminiscences. By the late Lord HOLwas held quiet. Tig at first took up his position in front, but soon walked round and stood up on his hind legs, resting his fore paws on his master's shoulders. To him this was exceedingly pleasant, but not so to the horse, who, not being accustomed to carry two, and feeling Tig's claws, kicked and plunged to rid himself of the extra passenger. Tig held on like grim death, and stuck in his claws most successfully; for, in spite of all the efforts of the horse, he was not thrown. In this way the journey was performed, the country folks opening their eyes at the apparition.

This reminds us of an anecdote mentioned by Mr. Lloyd. A peasant had reared a bear, which became so tame that he used occasionally to cause him to stand at the back of his sledge when on a journey; but the bear kept so good a balance that it was next to impossible to upset him. One day, however, the peasant amused himself by driving over the very worst ground he could find, with the intention, if possible, of throwing Bruin off his equilibrium. This went on for some time, till the animal became so irritated that he gave his master, who was in front of him, a tremendous thump on the shoulder with his paw, which frightened the man so much that he caused the bear to be killed immediately; this, as he richly deserved the thump, was a shabby retaliation.

When term re-commenced, Tiglath-pe-lezer returned to the university, much altered in appearance, for, being of the family of silver bears of Syria, his coat had become almost white; he was much bigger and stronger, and his teeth had made

WE welcomed the very announcement of this little volume with sincere pleasure. It could not have been otherwise. To all lovers of their country any accession to the history of Europe, which recalled to their memory one who had so long been an ornament to our Parliament and to our society, could not but be acceptable. To those who recognized, in the consistent political career of Lord Holland, an ardent love of liberty, a hatred of oppression, and an unwearied and manly advocacy of religious toleration, a posthumous work from his pen could not fail to be an object of singular interest. Still more welcome must such a publication be to those who had enjoyed the privilege of the author's social intimacy, and who remembered with grateful respect the varied delights of his animated conversation; his wit, untainted by bitterness or sarcasm; his humorous pleasantry, guided by good sense and wisdom, and raised above vulgar irony or personality; his literary taste and discriminating memory, freed from all formalism or pedantry; and the still higher qualifications of an unfailing flow of genial good-humor, and graceful and hearty benevolence, which seemed to create, and to rejoice in, the happiness of all who surrounded him. The brightness of the sunshine on his beautiful terrace, the brilliancy and the perfume of the flowers in his garden, the song of his nightingales, and the memory or the society of those who, from the days of Addison, to those of Rogers, had added the charm of their accomplishments to

all that was most captivating in the beauties of Nature, would still have been but imperfect and incomplete without Lord Holland himself.

We should be sorry not to have known-we should grieve to have forgotten—that gallery, in which the luxuries of modern refinement were united with the picturesque architecture of past times-where the literary treasures of the library were rivalled by the intellectual wealth possessed and lavishly expended by Lord Holland and his guests, and where decorations, more precious than mere works of art, recalled the features of that honorable band of statesmen who fought the battles of liberty against fearful odds. We remember with delight the distinguished persons who frequented that brilliant circle, rendering Holland House European, though not on that account less English. Yet even when that circle included such men as Talleyrand, Pozzi di Borgo, Guizot, de Broglie, Alva, Washington Irving, Everett, Arguelles, Czartoryski, together with those who were most illustrious in the annals of our home politics, and in science, literature, and professional eminence, it was still Lord Holland-with his frank greeting, his gracious and benignant smile, his free and cheerful courtesy, his ready wit and eager gush of conversation, which made the real centre of attraction, bringing together, and, what is more difficult, keeping together, all that was most agreeable and most distinguished in the society of London and of the principal European capitals. Powers of conversation, the strength of which was only to be equalled by their gentleness, an appreciation of all that was deserving, either in performance or in promise, a vivacity which never lost itself in levity, a consideration for the opinions of others, never shown by any unbecoming sacrifice or concealment of his own, a love for his country, with its peculiar characteristics, opening out into an expansive love for mankind, encouraging foreigners to cherish him as a brother; all these endowments, and qualities, were essential elements of his noble nature, which, in their happy combination, we never had seen equalled, and which it is not likely those who succeed us can see excelled.

victory. They cast aside Ivanhoe, because they have given their first love to Waverley. In an old and neglected library we once chanced to turn over the volumes collected by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu, arranged by her own hand, and illustrated by her own marginalia. In the first volume of " Amelia" is recorded the following judgment: -"Superior to any one else, but inferior to Mr. Fielding." Thus it is that we are apt to require a climax in all things. Rejecting the rule of the Italian sonnet, which recommends rather a calm repose, than a point and epigram, in the concluding line, we ask that the last chords of our opera should be accompanied by double drums and the burst of a brass band, and that our curtain should drop before the gold and tissue, the waving wings, and the flowery garlands of a modern ballet.

We have hitherto spoken of the risks which an author's fame must run in consequence of the overwrought expectations of his friends. But dangers of an opposite kind are likewise in store for a writer who has taken a leading part in contemporaneous party contests. These dangers are indeed obvious, and against them all candid and impartial readers will feel bound to guard themselves. Has the author been a frank and chivalrous friend to liberty, and perhaps to those whom he considers to have loved liberty, if not wisely, yet too well? Men whose minds have dwelt exclusively on the errors, and, perhaps we may add, the crimes, which have been committed in the name of Liberty, will lay hold of every expression, every chance word, which by a perverted ingenuity can be tortured into a false application, or can be extended to general conclusions never contemplated by the author.

To judge fairly the writings and the opinions of any author, and more especially of one who writes not only with entire frankness, but with vehemence, it is indispensable to read his argument with the general context of his character. From a neglect of this canon of criticism great mistakes are made, and gross injustice is committed. We know few stronger examples of this, than the vulgar opinions passed upon Edmund Burke. How often do we find that great man reproached with glaring inconIt was with these feelings that we saw the first sistency. How often is his love of liberty in announcement of this publication; we confess it is America contrasted with his defence of the aristocin this spirit that we have read it. Our readers racy in France. How strongly is the somewhat will perhaps think that this admission may incapac-overdrawn description of the follies and extravaitate us for discharging faithfully our functions as gance of an ancient monarchy, as depicted in his critics. We are far from considering such an in- | noble speech on economical reform, held up in opference to be necessarily correct. On the contrary, position to his defence of the Court of Versailles, we are persuaded that the very prepossessions which and of the elegant profusion of the Petit Trianon. we feel, and have endeavored to describe, have been disadvantageous, rather than favorable, to the author. Had the work been anonymous, or had it proceeded, like many of those innumerable books, miscalled histories, from the Palais Royal or the quays of Paris, we are inclined to think that a more favorable judgment might have been formed of it, than when every sentence, nay, almost every line, is weighed against the high reputation of the author, and the anticipations of readers like ourselves. In this respect, too, the critical world, commonly so called, is often unjust. They judge a work not absolutely, but relatively. They condemn it because it does not reach a certain standard which they have gratuitously raised. Nay, they often condemn an author less in reference to the intrinsic merit of the work under their review, than in relation to his former performances. If Vimeira and Talavera had succeeded Waterloo, these critics would scarcely condescend to call either battle a

How easy is it to suggest a seeming opposition between his love of religious liberty, and his enthusiastic sympathy even for the petit collet of a French abbé. Now, throughout all the vicissitudes of Burke's opinions, a more sound observer will trace two ruling and predominant principles-the hatred of oppression, and the desire to protect the oppressed. These governed him in defending the independence of America, in impeaching Hastings, in pleading the cause of the Roman Catholics and of Ireland, and in throwing the full weight of his character and his abilities into the scale opposed to the tyranny of the French Jacobins. To one keynote he faithfully returned, however varied had been his modulations. We do not say that he always applied his great principles with prudence. Indeed, his mind, when excited, was incapable of moderation. He does not seem to have understood that there are few propositions to which it is not indispensable to assign definite limits, and that the

exaggerated enunciation even of an unquestionable | applied to modern travels; for we use the word truth, may at times produce more mischief than a personal in opposition to real." Had this volume falsehood itself.

The duty we have thus endeavored to enforce the reader's duty-that of applying to a text the commentary of the author's principle, in order to judge his meaning fairly-is especially necessary in relation to Lord Holland.

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been more personal, had more of himself in it, we are convinced it would have been more real also. Lord Holland would have been more happy and more entertaining, in describing his own views and impressions, than in making himself the mere chronicler of the sayings of others. We could also have wished that his attention had been less exclusively diplomatic. Kings, princes, statesmen, and generals are, it is true, the pieces on our political chess-board, and our honors are sought among the court cards. It is not upon them, however, that the success of the game exclusively depends; the pawns should not be altogether overlooked. That this omission should appear in a work of Lord Holland's surprises us, for his warmest sympathies were given to the people. The too exclusive character of his Reminiscences leads to another unpleasing result. Unquestionably, if we seek for real elevation of mind, and an approach to the heroic or the chivalrous, it is not among the continental sovereigns or statesmen, at the close of the last century and at the commencement of the present, that such excellences are discoverable. Anecdotes selected from that class, and at that period, illustrate generally the less attractive parts of our nature, and would seem brought together to prove little more than

A love of liberty, and consequent hatred of all oppression, and sympathy with all misfortune, governed him throughout. These elements formed the lens through which he viewed all objects; and we do not deny that, in certain cases, those objects were somewhat distorted, and occasionally discolored by the medium thus interposed. From this danger, more dispassionate, and, we may add, more commonplace, minds would have been exempt. But if he had been more cautious and worldly, much of the attractiveness of his character would have been lost. In his sympathy for misfortune he could not bring himself to remember the offences of the unfortunate. In his love for freedom he failed in some cases to dwell on the crimes of those who adopted liberty as their watch-word. He felt that he who defends oppression shares the crime." Thus, he frequently took an imperfect view of things, and formed an incomplete estimate of character;-neglecting to strike a balance like a prudent calculator, from his very anxiety to supply what had seemed to him to have been wanting in others. He rushed to the defence of the defenceless, with How all prime ministers are odious things, And reigning dukes are quite as bad as kings. all the force that belonged to himself and to his race. Under these noble impulses-careless of Many of the facts recorded in these pages are not misrepresentation, and despising all dangers on the only painful but repulsive-resembling anatomical one hand, and all vulgar popularity on the other-preparations exhibited as specimens of morbid he raised his voice for Lafayette at Olmutz, and for Napoleon at St. Helena. We believe he would have done nearly the same, had the Archduke Charles been in the Bicêtre, or Marshal Suvarrow in the Conciergerie, provided they were victims of tyranny or suffering for their opinions.

humanity in a surgical school, rather than any picture of healthy life. This, it should however be observed, is more the fault of the subject than of the painter. Only we must be so much the more careful to avoid generalizing on so partial a collection of facts. It may, indeed, frequently be useful But our attachment to the author is delaying us to hold up to public odium and contempt those unreasonably from the consideration of his work. who, being entrusted with power and placed in The period included in Lord Holland's narrative high station, are unconscious of the responsibility, extends from the year 1791 to the death of Napo- and of the duties, which that power entails on its leon, in 1821. The Reminiscences are far from possessors. It may be useful, also, to remind the giving any history, or even any sketch, of the worshippers of Fortune that their idols are too events of those eventful years. The author neither often formed of base metal;-but it would be alike claims to be a historian nor a biographer. He unwise and unjust to hold up these degraded charneither exhibits to us a series of historical pictures, acters as true exponents of the class to which they nor a gallery of portraits. He enters upon no belong; and it would be still more unjust to conphilosophical analysis of the causes of those stu- sider them as fair specimens of the social system pendous events which began with the French Rev- of which they form only a part. To us, as British olution, and seemed to have closed at Waterloo. subjects, such pictures produce but little comparaNo light is cast which enables us to view future tive danger. With the religious and moral feelevents more clearly. Neither is our knowledge ing of the country and its free institutions-no less of the general condition of the people, in those salutary in their influence on the character of parts of Europe which Lord Holland visited, much sovereigns and statesmen, than conducive to their extended. But this is no more than to say dis- true happiness and to the maintenance of their tinctly, that these reminiscences do not perform legitimate authority-we are safe; and are taught, that which they never promise. What they do by contrast, to appreciate more justly the blessings give us is a succession of lively and agreeable we enjoy, and the incalculable worth of a virtuous anecdotes, in some cases explaining interesting as well as a constitutional monarchy. though detached facts-in others supplying individual traits of character. We could have wished that Lord Holland had favored us with a little more of "personal narrative;"-we venture to retain the designation, notwithstanding the doubt implied in Lord Wellesley's question, whether the title of "personal narrative" was pure and idiomatic English-a doubt evaded rather than overruled by the wit of Lord Plunket's answer:-"We lawyers are the last persons who ought to condemn the title as

The first visit of Lord Holland to the Continent of Europe was in 1791, when he made a journey to France. Born in November, 1772, he could not have acquired the necessary experience to enable him to pass a fair judgment either on men or events. This he frankly states:-"I was a mere boy, and too little acquainted with the habits and manners of the people to observe much." (P. 2.) This admission should be borne constantly in mind; more especially in his observations on the early

stages of the French Revolution, and on the persons engaged in the events of those fearful days. Indeed, so far is Lord Holland from requiring us to give him an unhesitating confidence, that he puts his readers especially on their guard. "As a foreigner, however favorable his opportunities or sound his judgment, seldom relates any English event, or describes any English character, without committing some gross blunder, I speak myself, with the reflection that I also must be liable to be misled by false information, or to form an erroneous estimate of manners, opinions, and transactions out of my own country. I can only vouch for the anecdotes I record, by assuring my readers that I believe them, and repeat them as they were understood and received by me, from what appeared sufficient authority." (P. 1.) It is therefore obvious, that if doubts may be suggested with respect to the accuracy of some of the anecdotes contained in this volume, our mistrust applies to Lord Holland's informants, not to himself.

The sketch given of Mirabeau was evidently drawn before the publication of the "Souvenirs," by Dumont. The general testimony of this most excellent person is somewhat undervalued by Lord Holland. Whilst admitting, as he would have been the last man to question, the scrupulous truthfulness of Dumont, Lord Holland adds, that “he was, by his own admission, a very inobservant, and by his (Lord Holland's) experience, a very credulous man. 99 (Notes, pp. 2, 4.) Yet, while doubting Dumont, Lord Holland adopts without scruple the authority of Talleyrand. This preference we much question in matters coming within his personal observation we have no hesitation in setting the credit of the Genevese bon-homme and philosopher greatly above the credit of the astute and unscrupulous diplomatist and ex-bishop. The origin of an admirable bon môt, no less eharacteristic of Mirabeau's vanity than of Talleyrand's wit, though vouched by Dumont and many others, is by Lord Holland brought into question. When Mirabeau was describing in great detail, and with his accustomed eloquence, all the high qualities requisite for a great minister of France in a time of crisis-merits which the orator evidently considered to be united in himself" All this is true," a friend replied, "but you have omitted one of his qualifications.' No, surely; what do you mean?" "Should he not also," added the same sarcastic questioner, "be pitted with the smallpox?" thus identifying the picture as the portrait of the painter. It is hardly possible to doubt that this was a reply of Talleyrand, "aut Erasmi aut diaboli ;" and we receive it on its internal evidence no less than on the authority of Dumont.

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We have already quoted Lord Holland's authority to prove that he was conscious of the possibility of being misled by the evidence of others. We cannot help thinking that examples of this may be traced in some of the remarks he makes on the character of Louis XVI. and Marie Antoinette. The scene in the Legislative Assembly, when the king made his declaration in favor of the constitution, is well described. The memorable words, "Je l'ai acceptée, et je la maintiendrai, de dans et dehors," were delivered in a clear but tremulous voice, with great appearance of earnestness. Lord Holland was fortified in his enthusiastic persuasion that Louis was seriously attached to the new constitution. We believe he was right. Yet he afterwards asserts that the king was "at that very moment, if not the main instigator, a coadjutor and

(P.

adviser of the party soliciting foreign powers to put down that very constitution by force." 14.) If this were true, baseness and perfidy could hardly have been carried further. It is with surprise and regret that we find this charge made in the text, more especially when we are informed in a note, evidently written long after, that "Lafayette, and some others concerned in the events of those days, even now acquit Louis XVI. of all participation in the plan for invading France." Lord Holland adds: "I have no private knowledge on the subject whatever." It is true that he refers, though very vaguely, to public documents, in support of his assertion. We presume he had in mind the mission of Mallet du Pin, and the documents published by Bertrand de Molleville (pp. 8—37); but these are far from confirming his assertion. The great object of Louis was to avert a civil war; and he seemed almost as much to fear the emigrants, as he feared the Jacobins. We are both unable and unwilling to adopt the unfriendly judgment which we think is here too rashly pronounced.

Neither do we see any reason to impute vanity as one of the bad qualities of Louis XVI. The imputation rests upon no stronger foundation than his supposed want of confidence in his ministers. May we not find a more natural solution of this, in the fact that these ministers, forced upon him by circumstances, were undeserving of his personal confidence? One anecdote is indeed given in relation to the dismissal of M. de Calonne, which attributes the fall of that minister to a court intrigue of the queen. Is it not at the least as probable that a vain minister, turned out of office, should have cast the responsibility on an unpopular queen, rather than admit a cause derogatory to his own self-importance and painful to his self-love? Mignet, no mean authority, attributes the fall of M. de Calonne to very different causes. "L'Assemblée des Notables," he observes, "decouvrit des emprunts elevés à un milliard six cents quarante cinq millions, et un deficit annuel de cent quarante millions. Cette révélation fût le signal de la chûte de Calonne."

The story told of the king's supposed brutality to Marie Antoinette, his rebuke to her for meddling with matters, "auxquelles les femmes n'ont rien à faire," and finally the coarseness of " taking her by the shoulders and turning her out of the room like a naughty child," is, to say the least of it, highly improbable. But that such forgetfulness of all propriety and decorum should have taken place in the presence of a third party, and that party M. de Calonne, a man of courtly manners and address, seems incredible. The reply of that statesman to an intimation from Marie Antoinette that she had a request to make, was, " Madame, si c'est possible, c'est fait; si c'est impossible, celà se fera," indicates the character of the "ministre courtisan," who would have been the last person permitted by Louis XVI. to be a witness to acts of discourtesy towards a woman and a queen.

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But Madame Campan furnishes us with conclusive evidence that M. de Calonne, on whose testimony Lord Holland relies, could not be considered otherwise than as a witness influenced by the most malignant feelings against the queen. She tells us "la reine avait acquis la preuve que ce ministre était devenue son plus cruel ennemi. Je puis attester que j'ai vu dans les mains de la reine un manuscript des Mémoirs infames de la femme Laniotte, corrigé de la main même de M. de Calonne." A minister capable of such baseness towards the wife

of his sovereign is unworthy of credit either to prove charges of personal vanity against Louis XVI. or political treachery on the part of the queen. If we see no sufficient reason to adopt the statements of M. de Calonne against Louis XVI., still less can we acquiesce in the inferences drawn on grounds still more unsubstantial, attributing irregularities and infidelities to Marie Antoinette. It should be remembered that against that unhappy princess the most violent hatred and animosity were directed. Even before the old prestige for their king had been wholly effaced from the minds of the French people, Madame Deficit and Madame Veto, as she was called, was held up to odium by the whole revolutionary party. No malignity was spared, and calumnies the most absurd were invented and circulated. Of these the motive suggested for her dislike to Egalité, namely, the "spretæ in juria formæ," is a sufficient example. That she should have selected as an object of preference a man personally unattractive as well as most dangerous, is not to be believed, though the "judicium Paridis" had been pronounced in favor of the scandalous charge. Lord Holland wholly rejects it. Even many of those who were anxious to preserve the king and royalty, thought that the best measure for his security would be the banishment of Marie Antoinette. Her friends were few and powerless. Had she been really guilty of impurity of life, and corruption of morals, it cannot be doubted that there would have been better proof tendered against her than the strained inferences on which Lord Holland relies, and on which we feel it to be our duty to comment.

scarcely consistent with the extreme "delicacy and discretion" which Lord Holland assumes as his reason for rejecting the written evidence of Madame Campan, and giving faith to second-hand reports of her supposed conversations. If Lord Holland's hypothesis of the extreme reserve of Madame Campan were correct, how can we think it possible that she could afterwards have divulged the whole guilty mystery in conversation, involv ing, as it did, her own disgrace, her royal_mistress' dishonor, and the illegitimacy of the Duchess d'Angoulême? It is stated that Madame Campan acknowledged these facts to others, who acknowledged them to Lord Holland" (p. 18); a very slender thread, it must be confessed, on which to hang so weighty a charge. The only statement approaching the character of evidence is one which Talleyrand alleges to have been communicated to him by Madame Campan; it is to the effect that on the night of the memorable 6th October, Fersen was téte-à-téte with the Queen, and that he escaped from her boudoir, or bed-room, in a disguise procured for him by Madame Campan herself. This, again, is only hearsay of the same description, though it obtains some trifling additional weight in consequence of its resting on Talleyrand's authority. The evidence, even at best, as it did not come within his personal knowledge, would be merely the uncorroborated testimony of an accomplice. But the story is utterly incredible on other grounds. The time and place fixed, the peril with which the queen was at the period surrounded, pre clude the possibility that this anecdote should have been correctly reported by Talleyrand; and Mad

October, says, "à cette époque je n'étais pas de service auprès la reine. M. Campan y resta jusqu'à deux heures du matin." (Vol. ii., p. 75.)

Let us, then, stop to inquire what is that testi-ame Campan, in describing the fearful scenes of mony. It is hearsay throughout, and supposed to be derived from a single witness, with whom it is not stated he ever communicated personally. We allude to certain supposed conversations of Madame It is undoubtedly true that during the revolutionCampan, made known by others to Lord Holland. ary period, the queen held secret communications But this lady was an authoress, and the public have with persons attached to herself and her family. read her Memoirs. Not one line or word can be It would have been indeed most strange if she had quoted from them to support any suspicion of the not done so. When her husband's life and crown queen's frailty. The very contrary is the fact. were at stake-when the lives of her children were Whatever might be Madame Campan's predilec-in peril-when, even amidst the cowardice and tion for the royal family, yet if a somewhat gos- apostasy of the many, there remained some few siping French lady, undertaking to write court who were faithful-can we doubt the prudence, memoirs, had been in possession of facts like those nay, the duty, of such intercourse? but if it were alluded to, we conceive the temptation to hint, if even proved to have been carried on by night and not to tell, the secret, would have been irresisti- in secret, are we entitled, on this account, to cast ble. To believe in her entire reserve on the suspicion on the honor of the queen? Not only occasion would be as difficult as to imagine that was the intercourse we have suggested highly she would have ordered her "gigôt," without the probable-there can be no doubt but that it actu"petit coup d'ail," which is its proper seasoning.ally took place, from the evidence of parties themLord Holland, indeed, accounts for her silence on selves engaged in the transaction. Among those the subject by attributing to her, "a delicacy and a devoted to the royal cause, at the time of its greatdiscretion not only pardonable, but praiseworthy." est danger, were some of the officers of the Irish He adds, however, that her Memoirs were "disin- brigade; a gallant corps, which, from the day of genuous as concealing truths that it would have Fontenoy, had distinguished its courage on almost been unbecoming a lady to reveal." But is this every battle-field of Europe. Attached to the quite the case? On the contrary, does not Lord crown by political feeling, bound to the queen by a Holland himself refer to those Memoirs to prove spirit of chivalry, these brave men were prepared the fact that Louis XVI. was not to be considered to risk their lives for her deliverance. They as a very eager or tender husband-a fact which, formed an association-for it must not be degraded though insufficient to support a charge against the by the name of a conspiracy-for this generous queen, yet, explained as it is by Madame Campan, purpose. All the necessary preparations were demonstrates that the authoress did not feel herself made at Paris, on the road, and at the outports. restrained by delicacy within any very narrow or It was proposed to convey her, by sea, to a southinconvenient limits? Madame Campan, after de- western port in Ireland. The house which was scribing the personal attractions of her royal mis-selected for her reception still exists; and a more tress, complains unreservedly of the "froideur," miserable contrast to the Petit Trianon cannot well and the indifference affligeante," of the king. be conceived. The leader of this chivalrous band The passage to which we allude (vol. i., p. 60) is was an Irishman of great force of character, one of

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