Puslapio vaizdai

connected with a song-first-rate, certainly-but | intention, this martyr without the prospect of a not better than many of his former poems! It fiery chariot! east, to us, a strange light upon the chance medleys of fame; and, on the lines of Shakspere,

"There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.", Alas! in Hood's instance, to fortune it did not lead, and the fame was brief lightning before darkness.

And what is the song which made Hood awake one morning and find himself famous? Its great merit is its truth. Hood sits down beside the poor seamstress as beside a sister, counts her tears, her stitches, her bones-too transparent by far through the sallow skin-sees that though degraded she is a woman still; and rising up, swears, by Him that liveth for ever and ever, that he will make her wrongs and wretchedness known to the limits of the country and of the race. ́ ́ And, hark! how to that cracked, tuneless voice, trembling under its burden of sorrow, now shrunk down into the whispers of weakness, and now shuddering up into the laughter of despair, all Britain listens for a moment-and for no longer-listens, meets, talks, and does little or nothing. It was much that one shrill shriek should rise and reverberate above that world of wild confused wailings, which are the true "eries of London ;" but, alas! that it has gone down again into the abyss, and that we are now employed in criticising its artistic quality instead of recording its moral effect. Not altogether in vain, indeed, has it sounded, if it have comforted one lonely heart, if it have bedewed with tears one arid eye, and saved to even one sufferer a pang of a kind which Shakspere only saw in part, when he spoke of the "proud man's contamely" the contumely of a proud, imperious, fashionable, hard-hearted woman. 66 one that was a woman, but, rest her soul, she's dead." Not the least striking nor impressive thing in this "Song of the Shirt" is its half jesting tone, and light, easy gallop. What sound in the street so lamentable as the laughter of a lost female! It is like a dimple on the red waves of hell. It is more melancholy than even the death-cough shrieking up through her shattered frame, for it speaks of rest, death, the grave, forgetfulness, perhaps forgiveness. So Hood into the centre of this true tragedy has, with a skilful and sparing hand, dropt a pun or two, a conceit or two; and these quibbles are precisely what make you quake. "Every tear hinders needle and thread," reminds us distantly of these words, occurring in the very centre of the Lear agony, "Nuncle, it is a naughty night to swim in." Hood, as well as Shakspere, knew that to deepen the deepest woe of humanity it is the best way to show it in the lurid light of mirth; that there is a sorrow too deep for tears, too deep for sighs, but none too deep for smiles; and that the aside and the laughter of an idiot might accompany and serve to aggravate the anguish of a god. And what tragedy in that swallow's back which "twits with the spring" this captive without crime, this suicide without


The Bridge of Sighs" breathes a deeper breath of the same spirit. The Poet is arrested by a crowd in the street: he pauses, and finds that it is a female suicide whom they have plucked dead from the waters. His heart holds its own coroner's inquest upon her, and the poem is the verdict. Such verdicts are not common in the courts of clay. It sounds like a voice from a loftier climate, like the cry which closes the Faust "She is pardoned." He knows not what the jury will know in an hour-the cause of her crime. He wishes not to know it. He cannot determine what proportions of guilt, misery, and madness have mingled with her "mutiny." He knows only she was miserable, and she is dead— dead, and therefore away to a higher tribunal. He knows only that, whate'er her guilt, she never ceased to be a woman, to be a sister, and that death, for him hushing "all questions, hiding all faults, has left on her only the beautiful." What can he do? He forgives her in the name of humanity; every heart says amen, and his verdict, thus repeated and confirmed, may go down to eternity.

Here, too, as in the "Song of the Shirt," the effect is trebled by the outward levity of the strain. Light and gay, the masquerade his grieved heart puts on; but its every flower, feather, and fringe shakes in the internal anguish as in a tempest. This one stanza (coldly praised by a recent writer in the Edinburgh Review, whose heart and intellect seem to be dead, but to us how unspeakably dear!) might perpetuate the name of Hood:

"The bleak wind of March

Made her tremble and shiver,
But not the dark arch,

Nor the black flowing river;
Mad from life's history-
Glad to death's mystery
Swift to be hurled,
Anywhere, anywhere
Out of the world!"'

After all this, we have not the heart, as Lord Jeffrey would say, to turn to his "Whims and oddities," &c. at large. "Here lies one who spat more blood and made more puns than any man living," was his self-proposed epitaph. Whether punning was natural to him or not, we cannot tell. We fear that with him, as with most people, it was a bad habit, cherished into a necessity and a disease. Nothing could be more easily acquired than the power of punning, if, as Dr. Johnson was wont to say, one's mind were but to abandon itself to it. What poor creatures you meet continually, from whom puns come as easily as perspiration. If this was a disease in Hood, he turned it into a "commodity." His innumerable puns, like the minnikin multitudes of Lilliput, supplying the wants of the Man Mountain, fed, clothed, and paid his rent. This was more than Aram Dreams or Shirt Songs could have done, had he written them in scores. Some, we know, will, on the other hand, contend that his facility in punning was the outer form of his inner faculty of


thy quiddities?-thy flashes that wont to set the table in a roar? Quite chapfallen?" The death of a man of mirth has to us a drearier significance than that of a more sombre spirit. He passes into the other world as into a region where his heart had been translated long before. To death, as to a nobler birth, had he looked forward; and when it comes, his spirit readily and cheerfully yields to it as one great thought in the soul submits to be displaced and darkened

minute analogical perception-that it was the same power at play-that the eye which, when earnestly and piercingly directed, can perceive delicate resemblances in things, has only to be opened to see like words dancing into each other's embrace; and that this, and not the perverted taste of the age, accounts for Shakespere's puns; punning being but the game of football, by which he brought a great day's labour to a close. Be this as it may, Hood punned to live, and made many suspect that he lived to pun. This, how-by a greater. To him death had lost its terrors, ever, was a mistake. For, apart from his serious pretensions as a poet, his puns swam in a sea of humour, farce, drollery, fun of every kind. Parody, caricature, quiz, innocent double entendre, mad exaggeration, laughter holding both his sides, sense turned awry, and downright, staring, slavering nonsense, were all to be found in his writings. Indeed, every species of wit and humour abounded, with, perhaps, two exceptions; the quiet, deep, ironical smile of Addison, and the misanthropic grin of Swift (forming a stronger antithesis to a laugh than the blackest of frowns) were not in Hood. Each was peculiar to the single man whose face bore it, and shall probably re-appear no more. For Addison's matchless smile we may look and long in vain; and forbid that such a horrible distortion of the human face divine as Swift's grin (disowned for ever by the fine, chubby, kindly family of mirth!) should be witnessed again on earth!

"Alas! poor Yorick. Where now thy quips?

at the same time that life had lost its charms. But "can a ghost laugh or shake his gaunt sides?"-is there wit any more than wisdom in the grave?-do puns there crackle ?-or do comic annuals there mark the still procession of the years? The death of a humourist, as the first serious epoch in his history, is a very sad event. In Hood's case, however, we have this consolation: a mere humourist he was not, but a sincere lover of his race-a hearty friend to their freedom and welfare a deep sympathiser with their sufferings and sorrows; and if he did not to the full consecrate his high faculties to their service, surely his circumstances as much as himself were to blame. Writing, as we are, in a city where he spent some of his early days, and which never ceased to possess associations of interest to his mind, and owing, as we do to him, a debt of much pleasure, and of some feelings beyond it, we cannot but take leave of his writings with every sentiment of good-humour and gratitude.



"Now it is all over: tell the piper to play Ha til mi tulidh!" (We return no more.)
Last words of Rob Roy.

"WE return no more! we return no more!"

Said the chief, ere he breathed his last,
For he knew that the reign of the fierce and free,
And the bold in deed, was past;

He knew that the slogan of Border war-
All mute as the sleuth hound's breath-

Should never awaken the hills again
With shouts whose echo was death:-

"Ha til, ha til mi tulidh!"

Did they crowd around him, the brave of old,
In the dreams of that solemn hour,

All the mighty chiefs of his royal line,
In the pride of their early power?-
Macalpine who reigned o'er a conquered race,
And those that held rule in Lorn-

Did he think of these as he turned to die?
And his words were they words of scorn?—
"Ha til, ha til mi tulidh!"

Did he brood o'er the wrong that 'whelmed his sires,
Making all their hearthstones bare,
Through the ages that saw them held at bay,
And hate-hunted everywhere?—

Did he call to mind their scattered haunts,

In Balquhidder and Glenstrae,

And breathe, in his spirit's bitterness,
One trust ere he passed away?-

"Ha til, ha til mi tulidh!"'

O why was the gift of the seer of old
Withheld in that parting hour?
Why stood not the future before him then
In the might of its deathless power?

Why did it coldly, tamely, still

Its truths from the dauntless keep,
Leaving the brave, proud heart to sigh-
Ere it sank in dreamless sleep-

"Ha til, ha til mi tulidh ?"

For they shall not die! for they shall not die!
Whilst the hills their fame can keep;

Whilst fancy-bold as the boldest still

Can the gulfs of time o'erleap;

Whilst the wild, free spirit of old romance

Yet haunteth each loch and glen;

Whilst Scotland can say, from her heart of hearts, "Thus speak not my mighty men

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Ha til, ha til mi tulidh !"
And mighty they were, those chieftains bold,
With their germs of noble thought,

By the rugged nurture of rugged times

To growths of wild grandeur brought;
With their generous love of freedom, still

Unchanged through the changes round;
And, oh not for them, 'mid their native hills,
Should those parting words resound→→→
"Ha til, ha til mi tulidh !”

In their sometime lawless bravery,

They shall yet around us throng,
Where the clinging love of their native soil,
Was than wrath and death more strong:
They were suited well to their own rude times,
And ours will not let them go,

Till the last of Scotland's sons shall say

'Mid the final wrecks below

"Ha til, ha til mi tulidh”


THIS, from its title, would claim to be one of the most extraordinary books that the English world ever received. Though the editor, a decided AntiJacobin, if not an Anti-Gallican, chooses to be anonymous, there is no reason whatever to question the authenticity of the letters. Though there were no other testimony, they bear intrinsic evidence of being in truth the letters of Napoleon to the Directory, and of Massena, Augerau, and the other repubFean generals to the General-in-Chief, and of Carnot, in name of the Executive Directory, and written for the guidance of the young Commander-in-Chief of the army. It was the Army of Italy, and the correspondence commences with the opening of the brilliant campaign of 1796. Having warned our readers that the anonymous editor is the very opposite of a Bonapartist, though he does justice to the extraordinary genius of Napoleon, we shall let him open his own case, remarking that his opinions, though extreme, are not always unjust.

"Had any other combination of circumstances thrown Napoleon into a different career, it can scarcely be doubted that, whatever it might have been, he would have acquired the highest distinction to which it was capable of leading, He would have shone had he been a statesman, a diplomatist, an actor, and nothing more. History has industriously deduced the prominent features of his character from his actions, but many minute traits have escaped its observation. Both are sketched by his own hand unreservedly in this work, which contains the secret and official correspondence of this remarkable man, during what may be termed his apprenticeship to power, the years between his appointment to the command of an army and his usurpation of the government, to the heads of which he had ever professed the greatest deference.

"In these letters, not intended to meet the public eye, he has laid bare the sentiments and motives which influenced his actions during the busy years over which they extend, and thus raised a monumentum ære perenniusa monument more imperishable than that designed to cover his ashes in the capital of what was once his mighty empire. They display his unrivalled judgment, sagacity, foresight, and discrimination-his indefatigable perseverance, activity, industry, and that attention to the minutest circumstances, without which the success of the most ably combined plans may be endangered. But the monument, like a medal, has its reverse. There we discover the recklessness of the means employed for accomplishing ends-the duplicity, fraud, hypocrisy, perfidy, rapacity, cruelty, which cast a shade over those higher qualities that would excite unmixed admiration, but for the purposes to which they were applied."

We do not pretend to give any analysis of this work, which is of so miscellaneous a character as to render system impossible. The editor shows too successfully that the morale of the French army has always been bad, and that the troops were quite as ferocious and reckless under Louis XIV, and his Minister, Louvois, as under Napoleon and the Directory; and that the same flagitious character was applicable to the French forces and their commanders in the Seven Years' War, when the deliverers proved a greater scourge to their allies than the

open enemy. The Saxons of that time made exactly the same complaints which have since been heard from Spain, Portugal, and every country traversed by French soldiery.

"Whatever they could not consume or carry away was destroyed or rendered useless. They broke in pieces household furniture, casks, and other vessels, tore up papers and books, ripped open beds, and strewed the feathers over the fields, and slaughtered cattle which they could not remove, and left them to putrify in the deserted farm-yards. Twenty villages around Freiburg were rendered desolate because the French had sojourned in them. Nor were the private soldiers alone to blame for these wanton excesses, of which their officers set them the example. Thus it is related that the Marquis d'Argenson, who commanded the French in Halberstadt, whenever he was about to leave a house in which he had lodged, was accustomed to break in pieces the furniture, and to destroy the looking-glasses with a diamond. confirmed by the testimony of Count St. Germain, who "These complaints, preferred by Germans, are fully commanded a division of the French army at the battle of Rossbach. Writing to a friend, he says, I head a band of robbers, of murderers, who deserve to be broke upon the wheel, who run away at the first musket shot, who are always ready to mutiny.' Again: The country is plundered and laid waste for thirty leagues round, as it fire from heaven had fallen upon it; our marauders have scarcely left the very houses standing. . They plundered, murdered, violated women, and committed all possible abominations.' To characterise the conduct of the troops of the great nation in Germany during subsequent wars, in the time of the Republic and the Empire, would require a mere repetition of the circumstances detailed above."

There is a certain kind of candour in thus admitting that in general the troops of the Republic were not much worse than those of the Monarchy; and that the national flag, and the "Holy bayonets of France!" cannot be displayed by any government, whether of Bourbons or Bonapartists, without being formidable alike to friend and foe.

The condemnation of General Bonaparte for the excesses of the army of Italy would not be complete, if at all deserved, unless it were shown that he was entrusted by the Directory with sufficient authority to repress and punish the excesses of his soldiers; and this he possessed, but without using it, as the complaints of his own generals prove. Napoleon wished to be popular with the soldiers, and already understood the grand game opening before him. Before he had been a month at

the head of the army, we find General Laharpe, a brave Swiss and a sincere Republican, who commanded one of the divisions, thus remonstrating

with his Commander-in-Chief:

"The boundless licentiousness to which the troops give themselves up, and which cannot be remedied, because we have not a right to order a scoundrel to be shot, is hurrying us into ruin, dishonouring us, and preparing for us the most cruel reverses. As my character for firmness tolerate them, there is but one course for me to take, will not permit me to witness such things, much less to that of retiring. In consequence, General, I beg you to

The Bonaparte Letters and Dispatches, Secret, Confidential, and Official; from the originals in his Private Cabinet. Volumes I, and II. Octavo. London: Saunders & Otley,

accept my resignation, and to send an officer to take the command intrusted to me; for I would rather dig the ground for a livelihood than be at the head of men who are worse than were the Vandals of old."

and drew upon themselves a cruel vengeance, for that most heinous of offences against their invaders.


In this correspondence, we find the Directory, so far from approving the formation of republics in the con

Three days later, we find other generals threaten-quered provinces, with farsighted policy discouraging

ing to resign for the same reason. The army was altogether in a deplorably disorganised state; and, too often wanting food, the soldiers broke forth upon the people like demons incarnated, or ferocious beasts of prey. Laharpe complained that "the officers pillaged, and got drunk like the men." Serrurier, another general of division, reports at this time "Several corps have been without bread for these three days; the troops abused this pretext to abandon themselves to the most horrible pillage." And again, Laharpe writes to Bonaparte→

"All the agents, store-keepers, and others, in all the administrations, are making requisitions at random: the peasants of these parts are absolutely ruined: the soldiers are destitute, and their leaders disconsolate: rogues only are enriching themselves. There is not a moment to be lost, General, if you would save the army, if you would not have us be considered in Piedmont as men worse than the Goths and Vandals. Punish the knaves severely; reduce the number of those public bloodsuckers; whom one never sees exerting themselves for the benefit of the army, but is sure to find wherever they can profit by disorder."

any measures which would be liable to obstruct the free disposal of them on the conclusion of peace; though at the same time urging the expediency of sowing revolutionary ideas in the Sardinian and Austrian dominions."

The French army advanced, discipline was partly restored, and in about ten days from the date of Laharpe's letter, we find Bonaparte addressing the Executive Directory. It was Carnot who, at this time, conveyed to the Commander-in-Chief its orders and instructions in long epistles, to which Napoleon replied with pith and brevity, sending along with the report of his military progress, all manner of suggestions for the guidance of the Directory or its master-spirit, Carnot, in its dealings with the Italian States. Thus characteristically he writes on the 26th April, 1796, when he had been but a very short time at the head of the army of Italy


"The city of Coni has just been occupied by our troops. There was in it a garrison of 5000 men.

"I cannot doubt that you will approve my conduct, since it is one wing of an army that agrees to a suspension of arms, to give me time to beat the other. It is a king who puts himself absolutely into my power, by giving me three of his strongest fortresses, and the richest half

of his dominions.

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It is worthy of notice that the honest "Swiss" was shortly afterwards shot in the dark in a melée, "You may dictate, like a master, peace to the King and, as was suspected, wilfully, by his own soldiers. of Sardinia, I beg of you not to forget the little island: On the same day, from another quarter, Chambarl- of St. Pierre, which will be more useful to us by and bye hac, a chief of brigade, writes to the General-in-than Corsica and Sardinia put together. Chief

"Indiscipline has reached the highest pitch. I am using all possible means to maintain order, but they are of no avail. There is no kind of excess which the soldiers do not indulge in, and all that I can do is useless. I therefore request you, General, to be pleased to accept my resignation; for I cannot serve with soldiers, who know neither subordination, nor obedience, nor law."

The same remonstrances and entreaties were repeated from every quarter; and such was the Army of Italy-the school in which Napoleon learned the rudiments of war. He had, at this time, two leading objects to maintain his influence with the Executive Directory, and his popularity with the troops. He succeeded in both. The orders and instructions issued by the Directory during the campaign to the Commander-in-Chief tend to countenance the rather sweeping charges made by the Editor of the Letters, when he states

"In truth, all the orders of the Directory at home, all the proceedings of its instrument, the army in Italy, exhibit a system of rapine, robbery, and spoliation, so monstrous as scarcely to be paralleled in the history of civilised nations. Practised with eclât by the heads of the government and their able and willing agent, the General, and with all but impunity by the civil officers of the army, there would have been too striking an inconsistency in calling the naked and starving soldiers to a rigid account for their outrages. The wretched inhabitants of the countries occupied by the French troops, victims of this threefold extortion, were encouraged by revolutionary artifices, to seek a melioration of their fate, by forming themselves into republics independent of their late rulers, but under the influence and protection of France, which failed not to exact an exorbitant recompense for the favour; while others rose to exterminate their oppressors,

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If you grant him the portion of the Milanese, which I am about to conquer, it must be upon condition that he shall send 15,000 men to second us, and to guard that? country after we have made ourselves masters of it Meanwhile, I shall cross the Adige with your army, and enter Germany by the Tyrol.

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My columns are in march; Beaulieu in flight : 1 hope to catch him. I will impose some millions of con-b tributions on the Duke of Parma: he shall be forced to make propositions of peace to you. Be not in a hurry, that I may be in time to make him pay the costs of the Campaign, provision our magazines, and rehorse our carriages at his expense.

If you will not make peace with the King of Sardinia, if your intention is to dethrone him, you must amuse him for a few decades, and give me notice immediately. I will get possession of Valenza, and march upon Turin. I will send 12,000 men upon Rome, when I have beaten Beaulieu and obliged him to recross the Adige ; when I shall be sure that you grant peace to the King of Sardinia, and you send me part of the army of the Alps.

"As for Genoa, I think you ought to demand of it 15,000,000, as indemnities for frigates and vessels taken in its ports, and insist that those who caused the Modeste to be burned, and called in the Austrians, shall be tried as traitors to the country. If you charge me with these matters, which you will keep profoundly secret, I will find means to do all that you can desire.



This looks like the bold commencement of a fortunate career. We have now a mass of the correspondence of the Generals-of-Division, reporting progress to their chief, and many of his letters to the Commander-in-Chief of the army of the King of Sardinia. The French army still advanced; the : Po was crossed, "the second campaign was begun," and Bonaparte writes to Citizen Carnot exultingly :—

"Beaulieu is disconcerted. He calculates very ill, and

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constantly falls into the snares that are laid for him. | transport for the French troops, "leaving the mode Perhaps he meant to give battle; for that man has the of reimbursement to be settled afterwards ;" and daring of madness and not that of genius; but the 6000 men who were forced, yesterday, to cross the Adda, and fartherwho were defeated, will weaken him much. Another victory, and we are masters of Italy.


I have granted a suspension of arms to the Duke of Parma. The Duke of Modena is sending me plenipoten-ble The moment we cease our movements, we shall new-clothe the army; it is still in a frightfal state but all are getting fat. The soldiers cat nothing but Genesse bread, good meat and in quantity, good wine, &c. Discipline is becoming re-established from day to day; but it is often necessary to shoot, for there are intractable men who cannot command themselves."


What we have taken from the enemy is incalculable. We have the effects of hospitals for 15,000 sick, several magazines of corn, flour, &c. The more men you send me, the more easily I shall be able to feed them. Iam despatching to you twenty pictures by the first masters, Correggio and Michael Angelo.

"I owe you particular thanks for the attentions which you are pleased to pay to my wife. I recommend her to you. She is a sincere patriot, and I love her to distraction.

"I hope, if things go on well, to be able to send you a dozen millions to Paris. That will not come amiss for army of the Rhine."


There is much to ponder in this letter, and not less in the reply of Carnot, in name of the Execative Directory. Among lesser matters, he thus breaks out :

"At the moment that the Directory is writing, you are, no doubt, in the Milanese. May the lucky destinies of the Republic have carried thither some French columns, before the Austrian has been able to recross the Po! May they place you in a situation to cut off his direct communication with Milan and the court of Vienna! Your letter of the 9th expresses the intention of marching on the 10th against Beaulieu. You will have driven him before you. Do not lose sight of him for a moment. Your activity and the utmost celerity in your marches can aloné annihilate the Austrian army, which must be destroyed. March! no fatal repose! There are yet laurels left for you to gather; and it will be all over with the remnants of the perfidious coalition, if you follow up, as you declare it to be your intention to do, the advantages given to us by the splendid victories of the Republican army which you command.

The powers of Italy call us towards your right, citizen-general, and this course must rid us of the perfidious English, so long masters of the Mediterranean. It

must likewise enable us to recover Corsica, and to wrest

these French departments from the ambitious house of Brunswick-Lüneburg, which has so proudly established itself in them. Such are the sentiments of the Directory on this head.

First, effect the conquest of the Milanese, whether it be destined to return to the house of Austria, as a necessary cassion for securing our peace with it, whether it may be expedient to give it in the sequel to the Piedmontese, either as a reward for the efforts which we may have induced it to make for assisting us in that conquest, or as an indemnity for the departments of Mont Blanc and the Maritime Alps, constitutionally incorporated with the French Republic. Drive back the enemy to the mountains of the Tyrol, and put him in dread of finding himself forced there.'

Highly praising the plan of operations projected by the impetuous young general, Carnot points out its difficulties, and sketches his own plan and the manner in which the Government of each Italian State is to be dealt with. Lucca was to be conciliated; Genoa and Leghorn temporised with in the meantime, but the former made to furnish provisions and

"It is likewise after the expedition to Leghorn that we shall endeavour to raise a loan in the city of Genoa, but we must beware of harassing it. We will make it sensithat we are more generous than our enemies, who proposed to deliver it up to the King of Sardinia. We will demand in such a manner as not to be refused, that every thing belonging to our enemies, especially the English, as well in the port and city of Genoa as in the rest of the territories of that Republic, shall be immediately put into our hands. We will insist on the sequestration of the property and funds of the merchants and the pri vate persons of the country who make war upon us, and the Genoese Government shall answer for the fidelity of the sequestration. We will continue to give in exchange for what Genoa shall supply us with, bonds of redemption, to be treated of at the general peace. Lastly, we shall require all emigrants, without exception, to be expelled from the territories of Genoa and Tuscany, as you have, no doubt, caused them to be expelled from the part of Piedmont which you occupy, in case they have been bold enough to remain there,

"As to the course to be pursued in regard to the Duke of Parma, it is just that he should pay for his infatuation in not detaching himself from the coalition. His territories must supply us with all that we have need of, and Spain enjoins us not to make any useless devastation with money into the bargain: but our connexion with there, and to spare his country much more than the other possessions of our enemies. It is the Milanese most especially that we must not spare. Raise there contributions in specie immediately, and during the first panic which the approach of our arms will excite; and let the eye of economy superintend the application of them. The canals and the great public establishments of this country, which we shall not keep up, nust feel somewhat of the effects of war; but be prudent.'

This communication justifies the accusations of the Editor, when he charges the Directory with rapacity, and with concerting a regular system of 'rapine and spoliation unheard of in the history of civilised nations." Venice was to be treated as a neutral power, but not as a friendly power. "It has done nothing to deserve our kindness." A great difficulty, if not the greatest, was treating with the Roman States. Some members of the Executive Directory would at once have annihilated the Popedom, with the Pope; other Republican statesmen counselled the formation of three small republics out of the States of the Pope-republics being then "the order of the day." The generals, in this and in other instances, proved themselves better statesmen than those whose proper business was statecraft. By anticipation, Carnot had warily suggested, that if Rome made advances to the victorious invaders, all Europe should be apprised of the fact, and the newly-begotten friendship, by "the Pope ordering public prayers to be made for the success and prosperity of the French Republic." But Carnot did not stop with this projected seething of the kid in its mother's milk. He added, in his confidential letter to Napoleon

"Some of his beautiful monuments, his statues, his pictures, his medals, his libraries, his bronzes, his Madonas of silver, and even his bells, will indemnify us for the expense occasioned by the visit that you will have paid him. In case the Court of Naples, alarmed at your approach, should cause proposals to be made to France, it

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