GENERAL REMARKS.

THE very important results from the battle of Waterloo so teem with suggestions, that infinitely more must be trusted to the reader's reflection and sensibility than can be offered on paper to his eye. The effect of these events is so grand, their succession to each other is so rapid, and, at the same time, so towering in the scale of importance,-their variety is so precipitate and wild, that one feels, in relation to this political crisis, much in the same way as when surrounded by the most sublime and abrupt scenes of nature—as if it would be impertinent to throw in the petty voice of remark amongst so much that outstrips the power and speculation of individuals. There is a pitch of activity of mind, excited by the vastness of surrounding objects, which silences language by a conviction of its inability; and there is a rush in the tide of success which produces a vague but serious impression, akin to alarm, occasioned by the faculties finding themselves at a loss. The break-up of what appeared so strong, the instantaneous discomfiture and dispersion of what appeared so formidable, the unbounded triumph of what appeared so beset with doubts and difficulties, which we have witnessed, cause the result to assume altogether the air of a stupendous phenomenon. Amidst this union of violence and rapidity, we feel ourselves rather carried than carrying; we seem the object of some overruling influence, rather than the fulfillers of our own designs. The interval has been so small since Buonaparte declared himself impregnable in French feeling and strength,-since we heard of armies on armies. collected to resent as well as resist invasion, since we were dazzled and astounded with oath-taking ceremonials, with the imposing display of a throne, the steps of which were crowded with devoted children,- that now, when we find this man absolutely stripped, and rendered destitute by one blow,-his unrestrainable and all-confident soldiery scattered and dissipated by one encounter, -and France, "the beautiful and invincible," laid open to her heart, defenceless and bare, by one defeat,-we startle in that feeling of scepticism which is sometimes produced by the overwering nature of the conviction of a reality. It may be said, we believe-and under all the circumstances, without any violation

of generosity-that the two extremes of previous boasting and subsequent depression and disgrace could have happened in no country of Europe, within the same space of time, but France; and we apprehend it may be said, consistently, under all the circumstances, both with truth and decency, that the succession of the latter to the former could not have been so rapidly forced on such an enemy by any other country than England. Neither the taunt nor the self-congratulation would be worth writing, unless connected with the vindication of true principles. Every triumph of policy, with such a bias, is a benefit gained for mankind generally.

It is the proud distinction of the British troops, that they are alike to be depended upon in "doing or in suffering," while the French are nothing unless they are doing: the latter must be carried out of themselves to reach to any thing that is great, and when the artificial stimulus fails, or is checked, they drop back into their natures, which do not well sustain them. Their British adversaries, on the other hand, have no occasion to go beyond the essential qualities of their character, and their efforts being thus sounder in motive, are more substantial in effect. The difference may be represented by calling one the rock, and the other the foaming spray which it beats back. During the whole course of the war in Spain this difference was very perceptible, but never has it been exhibited on so grand a scale as in the late battles in the Netherlands. The French were impetuous and desperate in their charges, -the British were immovable and calm in receiving them; wherever any number, no matter how small, of British troops could be thrown forward to meet the enemy, there was the enemy, no matter how strong, or how triumphant over others, abruptly stopped. Moral superiority took the aspect of a physical obstacle, which must be annihilated to be removed. In the grand result the French have felt, the world has seen, and posterity will know, that England's sons are the best in the fight, and that they are capable of the mightiest exertions of every kind. Their country alone has held out, without interval or faltering: their country alone has entirely escaped degradation in these times of misfortune: she alone has assisted all, and held her own head high without assistance. Our enemy has now experienced the superiority of England in every way; all his publications for many years have avowed that his great design was to ruin England; his measures have all been directed to this end. He has tried to effect it at sea, on shore, singly, and by alliances, he has tried to effect it by commercial, financial, and sentimental means. We have destroyed him at sea, we have beaten him on shore; we have repelled him singly, we have conquered him with our Allies: we tired him out of his anti-commercial system, and our finances have also triumphed, without the commission of any breach of faith to our

creditors. We have exposed the meanness and falsehood of his sentiments. Lastly, in one great battle,-England, away from her own shores, has, in the teeth of superior numbers, beaten the collected might of France on her own frontier, headed by an Imperial general, whose superiority over all captains, ancient or modern, the public voice of France has asserted and sworn, in prose and poetry, in harangues and writings,-in insolence, in perfidy, and falsehood. In one battle, England has dealt to France a blow that has gone to her heart, and sent her reeling and tumbling backward on a throne, which, in theatrical show at least, she had sworn to defend to the last drop of her blood, in behalf of which she, but the other day, held forth the boldest language of defiance; a throne which was said to present a superb spectacle, a sublime spectacle, an imposing spectacle, and Heaven knows how many spectacles besides. This throne has tumbled down like rotten wood under her stagger and fall her soldiers have disappeared, like the smoke of her cannon, after the prodigious noise they made;-and, between her frontier and the neighbourhood of her capital, scarcely an arm has been raised to preserve the "fine country," to vindicate the honour of the "great nation," to fulfil the "destiny" which had "decreed France to be the Queen of the West."

If it be true, which has been taken for granted by some, that it was the will of the people of France that Buonaparte should reign over them, the ruin of that person at one blow, the instantaneous desertion of him in the teeth of engagements to support him to the last, and the breaking up of a national army by one defeat, form a more severe humiliation of the French than any which they have inflicted on other countries. Nothing that has been done by them to Prussia or to Austria was so severely disgraceful to the vanquished as this which has fallen on themselves, supposing that they were enlisted in Buonaparte's cause. Assuming, on the other hand, that Buonaparte's return was a measure of violence, that it was offensive to the public sentiment of France, what is to be said of a people thus wrested to and fro, -knocked like a shuttlecock from one government to another, -and all the while debating about their "destinies, and their deliberations, and their high attitude,"-deriving their self-satisfaction from words which they ought to seek in things? Some, we know, feel a distrust and disheartenedness from the utter overthrow of Buonaparte, in consequence of regarding it as the overthrow of intellect; but, if the matter be properly considered, it will appear that a grand vindication has been effected of those principles which combine intellect, morality, and freedom together. It has been proved, that it is only from this union that the invincibility of character can spring, into whose contemplation the idea of yielding is never admitted, which acquires strong feeling from serious reflection, and its keenest enthusiasm from a sober sense of

self-respect. This is a description of character which at least applies better to England than to France; the triumph of the latter over the former, therefore, would have been a most melancholy event, as a proof of the little practical worth of those domestic virtues, social comforts, and public rights, which England possesses in a superior degree to France. But the victory of England is an assurance that they are of sterling worth; that, although they may demand some self-denials, yet that they will repay them; that Providence has a sacred store, from which it bestows its most splendid and imperishable gifts on those who willingly forfeit, for their sake, the easy pleasures that are within the reach of indolence and sensuality. It would, indeed, have been a miserable thing for the hopes of the world, if a perjured and unprincipled soldiery, a careless and fickle people, a perfidious and declamatory government, had, in the terrible and decisive struggle of faculty and heart, gained the day. But the great fight of Waterloo has, with the instrumentality of English heroism, connected the political and moral qualities which philanthropists enforce, with that public strength which is the common ambition of the gross as well as of the enlightened..

We rejoice in the victory which England has gained; and we have no doubt that the cause of political freedom in France will be benefitted by what has happened. Buonaparte's fall has proved, we think, that he was not supported by the opinion of the French; and, if not so supported, his return was a piece of ruffian violence, and his pretensions, since his return, sheer knavish imposition.

We now proceed to give the words of the original documents, as issued by the respective governments, as the best elucidation of the glorious events, which cannot fail to fix an emulative record of English valour to the latest posterity.

OFFICIAL BULLETIN.

"Downing Street, June 22, 1815.* "The Duke of Wellington's dispatch, dated Waterloo, the 19th of June, states, that on the preceding day Buonaparte attacked, with his whole force, the British line, supported by a corps of Prussians; which attack, after a long and sanguinary conflict, terminated in the complete overthrow of the enemy's army, with the loss of ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY PIECES OF CANNON, AND TWO EAGLES. During the night, the Prussians, under Marshal Blücher, who joined in the pursuit of the enemy, captured SIXTY GUNS, and a large part of Buonaparte's BAGGAGE. The Allied armies continued to pursue the enemy. Two French generals were taken."

*The first news of the commencement of hostilities was known in London at four o'clock on Tuesday, June 20, 1815, by the following means:-The Hon. Mr. Butler and the Knight of Kerry, were travelling on pleasure in the Netherlands,