rapidity. It is certain, however, that so bent were the allies on peace, that England was at length compelled to be a party to the negotiation; and it is not now denied, that when Lord Castlereagh was sent over to attend the conferences at Chatillon, he was instructed to agree to terms of peace "honourable to France." Our author, with very laudable consistency, expresses his disapprobation of these conferences, and the breach of principle in which they began, and, of course, he was very happy at their failure. The harmony and good humour, however, of all the ministers made the time pass very agreeably at Chatillon,-the diplomatists dining with each other alternately, and Caulaincourt smuggling, through the French advanced posts, the choicest liquors, &c. from Paris, for the tables of his brother ministers. What followed the rupture of these negotiations need not now be told, as few even of the youngest of the present generation are ignorant that, hostilities being resumed, the allies drove the French to Paris, and decreed that Buonaparte should be sent to Elba. Lord Londonderry's details respecting the manoeuvres of Napoleon in this last struggle, demand the attention of every military man, as exhibiting the most consummate skill in the late Emperor in the art of strategy. One personal anecdote, an adventure of Lord Londonderry's, the circumstances of which occurred during the subsequent progress of the allies to Paris, must not be omitted. We perhaps regard it with greater interest, as being nearly the only trait of the kind with which the monotony of the narrative is relieved.

'I witnessed here a very interesting, but I fear, unfortunately, too usual an occurrence, that took place in the capture of the convoy and enemy's baggage, &c. at La Fere Champenoise. Being forward in the Mélie, I perceived that some Cossacks, most probably from Bashkir, had not only secured a French colonel's calèche and baggage, but one of them had seized his wife, whose cries rent the air, and, with the aid of two other gallant Tartars, was placing her behind him. I will not detail the frequent histories of lawless troops, nor add to these pages instances of barbarity which I fear have been too justly given of the conduct of the Russian predatory hordes in their march through France; but I reflect with satisfaction, that it was my good fortune to rescue, even for a moment, a lovely and most interesting Frenchwoman from the hands of these wild soldiers. Being, however, unable to listen to her afflicting details, and not knowing in what manner better to place her in security, I ordered my own orderly hussar, of the King's German Legion, to place her for the moment en croupe, and carry her to my billet at head-quarters. I was unwilling, and indeed could not at that moment leave the field; but consoled myself with the thought, that when I returned at night to my quarters, I should receive the gratitude of a beautiful creature, and pictured to myself romance connected with this occurrence. But, alas! how little can we reckon on any future event, and how idly do we all build des châteaux en Espagne! Ĭ fear that my precautions were not so great as I flattered myself they were. The distance between the champ de bataille and Fere Champenoise was inconsiderable; the town was in sight; and from the number of officers

and troops moving about, I could not imagine my beautiful prisoner would be recaptured; but, sad to relate, either the same Cossacks returned, or others more savage and determined, and perceiving my faithful orderly hussar and prize, fell upon him, and nearly annihilating him re-seized their victim; and although the strictest investigation was made throughout his whole army, the Emperor of Russia, to whom I immediately repaired, and related the melancholy tale (and who heard it with all that compassion and interest it could not fail to inspire), the beautiful and interesting Frenchwoman never reappeared again. I drop a veil over the horrible sequel which imagination might conjure up, and I took much blame for my neglect of a sufficient escort. My hussar crawled to me next morning, half dead from ill usage; and his pathetic tale placed me in a state of mind scarcely less deplorable.'-pp. 289, 290.

As the allied armies approached Paris, a letter written by the Empress of France to Buonaparte was intercepted. The noble Marquess describes it as an unaffected effusion of affection; it detailed the impressions made on the Parisians by the reverses which the French arms sustained-and it ended with the account of a dream, by which the young King of Rome was greatly disturbed a short time before. The child in his sleep began to cry bitterly, and frequently called on his papa. When awoke, he could not be prevailed on to give the slightest explanation of the nature of the dream. It is satisfactory to have Lord Londonderry's testimony to the laudable conduct of the empress during difficulties almost unexampled. With whatever reluctance she first yielded to the state reasons, that called for her acquiescence in a marriage with Buonaparte, she never remembered that repugnance afterwards, but discharged her duties as a wife and mother, in a manner,' says our author, that must hand her name down to posterity as a character of the first order.' Nothing very novel or interesting is related by Lord Londonderry respecting the occupation of Paris by the allies, with an account of which the work closes; but he notices an incident which, though apparently trivial, manifests in a most striking manner the utter confusion which reigned at the time in the Councils of Great Britain. It will be remembered, that the Conferences at Chatillon were terminated on the 18th of March, up to which day the British Government was willing to treat with France upon terms honourable to the latter, that is to say, upon the basis of Napoleon's keeping the throne. And yet we find that upon the 2d of February previously, the Duke of Wellington issued a proclamation, which distinctly pointed to the restoration of the Bourbons! That the English Cabinet resolved originally upon the demolition of the imperial throne, and on restoring the Bourbons, there is every reason to believe; and if Lord Castlereagh, at Chatillon, consented to a termination of the war upon conditions short of these results, he must have been either intimidated, or wheedled into such an agreement by Metternich; and as he was compelled to form his resolution hastily, there was not time sufficient to communicate with the Duke of Wellington. What can

rapidity. It is certain, however, that so bent were the allies on peace, that England was at length compelled to be a party to the negotiation; and it is not now denied, that when Lord Castlereagh was sent over to attend the conferences at Chatillon, he was instructed to agree to terms of peace "honourable to France." Our author, with very laudable consistency, expresses his disapprobation of these conferences, and the breach of principle in which they began, and, of course, he was very happy at their failure. The harmony and good humour, however, of all the ministers made the time pass very agreeably at Chatillon,-the diplomatists dining with each other alternately, and Caulaincourt smuggling, through the French advanced posts, the choicest liquors, &c. from Paris, for the tables of his brother ministers. What followed the rupture of these negotiations need not now be told, as few even of the youngest of the present generation are ignorant that, hostilities being resumed, the allies drove the French to Paris, and decreed that Buonaparte should be sent to Elba. Lord Londonderry's details respecting the manoeuvres of Napoleon in this last struggle, demand the attention of every military man, as exhibiting the most consummate skill in the late Emperor in the art of strategy. One personal anecdote, an adventure of Lord Londonderry's, the circumstances of which occurred during the subsequent progress of the allies to Paris, must not be omitted. We perhaps regard it with greater interest, as being nearly the only trait of the kind with which the monotony of the narrative is relieved.

'I witnessed here a very interesting, but I fear, unfortunately, too usual an occurrence, that took place in the capture of the convoy and enemy's baggage, &c. at La Fere Champenoise. Being forward in the Mélie, I perceived that some Cossacks, most probably from Bashkir, had not only secured a French colonel's calèche and baggage, but one of them had seized his wife, whose cries rent the air, and, with the aid of two other gallant Tartars, was placing her behind him. I will not detail the frequent histories of lawless troops, nor add to these pages instances of barbarity which I fear have been too justly given of the conduct of the Russian predatory hordes in their march through France; but I reflect with satisfaction, that it was my good fortune to rescue, even for a moment, a lovely and most interesting Frenchwoman from the hands of these wild soldiers. Being, however, unable to listen to her afflicting details, and not knowing in what manner better to place her in security, I ordered my own orderly hussar, of the King's German Legion, to place her for the moment en croupe, and carry her to my billet at head-quarters. I was unwilling, and indeed could not at that moment leave the field; but consoled myself with the thought, that when I returned at night to my quarters, I should receive the gratitude of a beautiful creature, and pictured to myself romance connected with this occurrence. But, alas! how little can we reckon on any future event, and how idly do we all build des châteaux en Espagne! I fear that my precautions were not so great as I flattered myself they were. The distance between the champ de bataille and Fere Champenoise was inconsiderable; the town was in sight; and from the number of officers

and troops moving about, I could not imagine my beautiful prisoner would be recaptured; but, sad to relate, either the same Cossacks returned, or others more savage and determined, and perceiving my faithful orderly hussar and prize, fell upon him, and nearly annihilating him re-seized their victim; and although the strictest investigation was made throughout his whole army, the Emperor of Russia, to whom I immediately repaired, and related the melancholy tale (and who heard it with all that compassion and interest it could not fail to inspire), the beautiful and interesting Frenchwoman never reappeared again. I drop a veil over the horrible sequel which imagination might conjure up, and I took much blame for my neglect of a sufficient escort. My hussar crawled to me next morning, half dead from ill usage; and his pathetic tale placed me in a state of mind scarcely less deplorable.'-pp. 289, 290.

As the allied armies approached Paris, a letter written by the Empress of France to Buonaparte was intercepted. The noble Marquess describes it as an unaffected effusion of affection; it detailed the impressions made on the Parisians by the reverses which the French arms sustained-and it ended with the account of a dream, by which the young King of Rome was greatly disturbed a short time before. The child in his sleep began to cry bitterly, and frequently called on his papa. When awoke, he could not be prevailed on to give the slightest explanation of the nature of the dream. It is satisfactory to have Lord Londonderry's testimony to the laudable conduct of the empress during difficulties almost unexampled. With whatever reluctance she first yielded to the state reasons, that called for her acquiescence in a marriage with Buonaparte, she never remembered that repugnance afterwards, but discharged her duties as a wife and mother, 'in a manner,' says our author, that must hand her name down to posterity as a character of the first order.' Nothing very novel or interesting is related by Lord Londonderry respecting the occupation of Paris by the allies, with an account of which the work closes; but he notices an incident which, though apparently trivial, manifests in a most striking manner the utter confusion which reigned at the time in the Councils of Great Britain. It will be remembered, that the Conferences at Chatillon were terminated on the 18th of March, up to which day the British Government was willing to treat with France upon terms honourable to the latter, that is to say, upon the basis of Napoleon's keeping the throne. And yet we find that upon the 2d of February previously, the Duke of Wellington issued a proclamation, which distinctly pointed to the restoration of the Bourbons! That the English Cabinet resolved originally upon the demolition of the imperial throne, and on restoring the Bourbons, there is every reason to believe; and if Lord Castlereagh, at Chatillon, consented to a termination of the war upon conditions short of these results, he must have been either intimidated, or wheedled into such an agreement by Metternich; and as he was compelled to form his resolution hastily, there was not time sufficient to communicate with the Duke of Wellington. What can

be clearer, indeed, than that the fall of Napoleon,-speaking of it in a human sense-was a work of the merest chance? Our astonishment at the repetition of the negociations between him and the allies, is only exceeded by our wonder that those negociations should have as often failed; sometimes being broken off, no one almost knows why. Not one of the sovereigns engaged in the alliance ever dreamt, when he first unsheathed the sword, that Paris would have been the place where he should return it to its scabbard. At every step we almost see a perfect reconciliation on the eve of taking place; and when the catastrophe does at length occur, we imagine the whole to be a dream, so little are our senses prepared for such an abrupt termination of this singular drama.

So far as the warlike events of the period to which it relates are concerned, this work will be deemed an invaluable contribution to the fund of materials out of which the genuine history of this momentous war is to be written. We could only wish, that to the clear and elaborate details of military operations which it contains, Lord Londonderry had added an ample and honest exposition of the secret springs and motives of the transactions which he records. Much of the knowledge which the noble writer has deliberately hid from us, is essential to the just illustration of what he has disclosed. It is a great mistake for official men to leave the filling up of historical pictures to ignorant and incapable hands. By far the safest and most prudent course, as it is certainly the simplest, is for public servants to leave as little as possible to conjecture; for they may be assured that the truth will never be so bad as what the prejudices of mankind will induce them to suppose, in the absence of explanation, to have been the conduct of any government.

ART IV. The Fall of Nineveh, a Poem. By Edwin Atherstone, Author of a "Midsummer Day's Dream," "The Last Days of Herculaneum,"&c. Vol. II. Containing seven books. London: Baldwin and Cradock. 1830. THE first six books of this poem we recollect having read about two years ago, when we took leave to ask the author in a friendly way, whether, in singing to us the fall of the old City of Nimrod, he was not wasting his time and his powers in a very unprofitable attempt? He has answered our question by publishing seven books more; and as he seems delighted with his labour, and has not yet brought the Median army even to the siege, we have no idea as to the number of additional cantos which he may still choose to send to his printer. If the foe may be kept beating about the bush, advancing and retreating, talking and planning, looking about for allies, and enjoying at intervals the fresh air of the hills, through seven long books, we dare not say what may come to pass before the Assyrian king leaps into the fire, and the 'bloody city' be destroyed. In his poem on Herculaneum, Mr. Atherstone, if we rightly remember, assigned to almost every