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seems, to write articles in the journals, and was even en · trusted with the composition of a song which was to rally the troops and the populace round the new standard; he was also employed to carry messages and to do other little jobs connected with the plot; and from what he then knew, and what all the world has since known, he has compiled an account of that affair, which however has little or no novelty. One episode, which has something dramatic, we shall endeavour to abridge.

The affair, which had been frequently postponed, appeared at last definitively fixed for the 16th Brumaire ; and, on the evening of the 15th, all seemed ready. Talleyrand, Ræderer, Regnauld, and Arnault, were assembled at Talleyrand's house, waiting the word of command—but it did not come. Arnault, as least liable to be suspected, was sent to inquire of Buonaparte whether the affair stood for the morrow. In the meanwhile, Bertrand-Talleyrand,* to deceive any one who might chance to call in, made his rubber of whist, and Raton-Arnault was, on his return, to make a sign, to be understood only by the initiated. Arnault, on arriving at Buonaparte's, • found his salon full of everybody of every fashion--generals, legislators, jacobins, royalists, lawyers, abbés-a minister, a director, nay, the President of the Directory himself, against whom the plot was laid ; and it seemed as if all parties knew what was going on and as if they were all conspirators. To see the superiority of Buonaparte's air in this motley assemblage, one would have said that they were all in his confidence.'-vol. iv. p. 354.

While Raton was waiting to deliver his message, he witnessed a curious scene.

The President of the Directory, honest Gohier, was sitting on a sofa with Madame Buonaparte, when Fouché, the minister of police, came in, and took, by invitation, his seat on the same sofa. Well, what news, citizen-minister ?' asked the citizen-president, sipping his tea with a satisfied pomposity very comic under all the circumstances. • News ? nothing at all!' replied Fouché; only the usual gossip '--'What about ?' - Oh, of course, the conspiracy.' • The conspiracy ! exclaimed Josephine, in a tone of alarm. The conspiracy ! repeated the good president, incredulously shrugging up his shoulders.

• Yes, said Fouché, smiling, the conspiracy--but I know all about it. Give yourself no trouble, citizen-president ; trust me, I am not the man to be caught napping. If there had been a conspiracy, I promise you that you should, before this, have had evidence of it on the Place de la Révolution (the site of the guillotine), or the Plain de Grenelle' (the scene of military execution); and

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* Everybody knows that the chief success of M. Scribe's comedy' Bertrand and Raton,' arises from the resemblance which the Parisians see between Talleyrand and Bertranda

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he burst into a loud laugh. Fie, citizen Fouché!' said Josephine, how can you laugh at such things ?' Citoyenne,' replied the imperturbable Gobier—who thought it gallant to say something 10 quiet the evident alarm of the lady, of the real source of which, however, he had evidently not the most remote idea— Citoyenne, the minister knows what he is about. Be at your ease; when one talks of such extreme measures before ladies, 'tis a proof that there is no occasion for them. Do as the government does-laugh at such rumours and sleep in peace!' After this singular conversation, which Buonaparte, who was standing by, heard with a smile, the guests retired, and Arnault had an opportunity of delivering his message.

• The affair,' replied the general, • is adjourned to the 18th. I leave them time to ascertain that I can do without them, what however I am willing to do with them.' Them, no doubt, meant the two councils, which Napoleon and Lucien were endeavouring to dupe, buy, or intimidate. Arnault returned to Talleyrand's, whom he found at his whist with Madame Grant, (not yet Madame de Talleyrand) Madame de Cambis, and Regnauld. After reporting the results of his mission, Arnault and Regnauld stole away to an obscure printing-house to correct the proofs of the proclamation which was to announce the new revolution. The rest is known. Poor Gohier, who slept but too sound, was awakened by the guard which took him into custody. The councils were removed to St. Cloud; the Five Hundred were dispersed as the Long Parliament was, and as all similar assemblies must eventually be ; Buonaparte became sole governor of France; and when Regnauld and Arnault waited on him in the evening to congratulate him, he replied' If within one month we have not a general peace, in four we shall be on the Adige. In any case it is peace-peace—that this day has won. That is what must be announced to-night at all the theatres that is what must be published to-morrow in all the journals—that is what must be repeated in prose and in verse, and even in songs—and that's your affair (addressing Arnault); all variety of means must be used to fit the variety of tastes and intellects.'—vol. iv. p. 380.

Fifteen years of war- -war—the bloodiest, the most extensive, the most aggressive, and the most unprincipled—are the best commentary on Buonaparte's pretended anxiety for peace ; his intended peace was indeed fit only to be announced on buffoon stages, and promised to the world in the street songs of hired ballad-singers.

Here M. Arnault closes the fourth of his volumes; the whole pith and substance of which might, as we stated in the outset, be comprised in one. He concludes by saying that he has now to tell the story of his former associates and friends--become emperors, kings, dukes, marshals, what not-shall he have,' he asks, leisure and time to tell it ?' We are not so inhuman as

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in our plain English. Pindar at times bitterly reviles his enemies, and calls them crows, and daws, and worse ; yet their malignity did him small harm with his contemporaries, and none with posterity; but, strange to say, the admiration of a poet of exquisite genius and fancy—the very model, upon occasion, of pure diction in his own language, has been well nigh fatal to him in modern Britain. Pindar would have loved Cowley had he known him in the flesh, for they were both pure, religious, loyal, and learned men ; yet his self-love must have been less active than we think it was, if he would not have considered the friendship even of Cowley purchased too dearly at the expense of having his great Olympic song so handled by our countryman as it was destined to be.

That Cowley did not understand the construction of Pindar's odes, is apparent from the argument which he prefixes to his translation of this second Olympic, where he says that . this ode (according to the constant custom of the poet) consists more in digressions than in the main subject.' The manner which he thus mistakenly imputes to Pindar, Cowley adopted himself in the composition of those odes of his own, which, from a supposed similarity of style, he called Pindarique Poems,--not worthless, but yet of little worth, and which, by popular association, have largely contributed to throw the poetry of Pindar into that discredit or neglect which they themselves excited, and partly deserved. Some particular passages in the works of the Theban poet have indeed been excepted by scholars, and noted for general admiration ; but the fine passages' are not the finest things in Pindar, and the charge of general obscurity and want of unity has been gathering for a long time so thickly round his name, that it may seem worse than idle to attempt at this time of day to dispel the settled gloom.

The fame of Pindar amongst the ancients was transcendant and unique. Horace, who had but little of his spirit, had nevertheless a deep sense of his unapproachable majesty. Cowley, who was much nearer akin to the Latin than the Greek poet, expresses his own and Horace's feelings upon this point with great prettiness, after his peculiar manner :

• Lo! how the obsequious wind and swelling air
The Theban swan does upward bear
Into the walks of clouds, where he does play,
And with extended wings opens his liquid way!
Whilst, alas ! my

timorous muse
Unambitious tracks pursues ;
Does with weak unballast wings
About the mossie brooks and springs,
About the trees' new-blossom'd heads,
About the gardens' painted beds,
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to reply, we hope not; but we may venture to express a wish that, if he does ' pursue the swelling theme,' he may be less diffuse, less trivial, less partial; and rather more solicitous to amuse or inform his readers, than to increase, by every artifice of amplification, the bulk of his volumes, and the consequent amount of his copyright.

Art. II.—1. Pindar in English Verse. By the Rev. Henry

Francis Cary, A.M. London. 19mo. 1833. 2. The Odes of Pindar, translated from the Greek, with Notes

Critical and Explanatory. By Abraham Moore, Esq. Part II. 3. Bibliotheca Greca, curantibus Frid. Jacobs et V. C. F. Rost.

Vol. VI. continens Pindari carmina, edente Ludolpho Dis

senio, Professore Gottingensi, Gothæ et Erfordiæ. 1830. 'IF Fa man should undertake,' says Cowley, 'to translate Pindar

word for word, it would be thought that one madman had translated another; as may appear when he that understands not the original, reads the vulgar traduction of him into Latin prose, than which nothing seems more raving. And sure, rhyme, without the addition of wit and the spirit of poetry—(quod nequeo monstrare, et sentio tantum-would but make it ten times more distracted than it is in prose.' He adds, I have in these two odes of Pindar taken, left out, and added what I please; nor make it so much my aim to let the reader know precisely what he spoke, as what was his way and manner of speaking.' And-then, by way of letting the English reader know precisely the way and manner in which Pindar was accustomed to speak, Cowley proceeds to render the commencement of the second Olympic Ode in the following terms :

· Queen of all harmonious things,
Dancing words and speaking strings,
What god, what hero wilt thou sing ?
What happy man to equal glories bring?

Begin, begin thy noble choice,
And let

the hills around reflect the image of thy voice!' To the merit of which Pindaric burst Pindar himself can no otherwise lay any claim than on the score of three Greek lines, which, in despite of Cowley's hard words, we will venture to set before the reader in three lines of literal

prose :-
Ye harp-controlling hymns !
What god-what hero-

What man shall we resound ?' There is in the original a superb compoundávažipóguorgeswhich rings on the ear like the sounds of a harp by night; with the exception of that fine word, the poet suffers but little loss

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