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he had resolution enough to abandon it. I never saw him pass the bounds of the strictest temperance.' p. 215.

Early in March, 1810, Campbell left the Sandwich Islands. in the Portland, Captain Spence, and reached Rio Janeiro by the end of May. Here he was under the necessity of staying, as his legs required surgical assistance, and Captain Spence and his crew, who had treated their wretched passenger with the utmost kindness, subscribed fifty dollars for his support. He procured admittance into the Portuguese hospital, and obtained great relief.

'I was now in a different situation from what I had been either at Kodiak or the Sandwich Islands: I was in a civilized country, in which I must earn my subsistence by my own industry; but here, as well as there, I was under the protection of Divine Providence, and in all my misfortunes I found friends who were disposed to assist me.' p. 219.

At first he sold spruce beer and other refreshments to the ships which lay in the harbour, and after having realized a small sum, opened a tavern and boarding-house for sailors. This speculation, however, proved unsuccessful, and he undertook to supply vessels with fresh meat. He was successful in the business, until his house was broken into and he was robbed of every farthing, as well as of all his clothes? At length, after various vicissitudes, he obtained a passage home in the brig Hazard, Captain Anderson, and arrived in the Clyde on the 21st of April, 1812, after an absence of nearly six years.'

A gentleman in Rio Janeiro, of the name of Lawrie, had furnished him with letters to his father in Edinburgh, by whose interest he obtained admission into the Infirmary in that city; but after remaining there nearly four months, he was dismissed as incurable.

Mr. Lawrie, senior, presented him with a barrel organ; and he contrived to earn a miserable pittance, by crawling about the streets of Edinburgh and Leith, grinding music, and selling a metrical history of his adventures.

Being ambitious, however, of performing on a more dignified instrument, he has since learned to play on the violin; and he finds employ: ent on board the steam-boats that ply upon the river Clyde, by playing for the amusement of the steerage passengers.' Preface, PP. 8-9.

In this situation, he was found by Mr. Smith, who, with the benevolent design of alleviating the distresses of a helpless and meritorious individual, undertook to arrange and to make public Campbell's narrative: he has done his part judiciously; he has not overloaded the simple details of his protégé, by misplaced discussions, nor by unsuitable ornaments; he has told a story of considerable importance and of uncommon interest, in

language simple, perspicuous, and flowing. The book is tendered at a reasonable price, and the purchaser has it in his power at once to benefit a suffering fellow-creature, and to gratify himself, and as far as our recommendation can further both these objects, we cordially give it.

Art. VIII. Authentic Memoirs of the Revolution in France, and of the Sufferings of the Royal Family. Deduced principally from accounts by Eye-witnesses. 8vo. pp. 353. London. 1817.

THE origin of most Revolutions may be traced to the same errors-redress of grievances obstinately refused while it might have been wisely yielded and gratefully received, and concessions profusely offered and scornfully rejected, when the possessor of power has been made conscious of the weakness of the tenure by which he held it, and the claimants of privilege have been taught to combine for the maintenance of their real or imaginary rights. The closest and least separable bond of union, is the feeling of a common suffering; and when, in the haughty tenaciousness of long or hereditary possession, a governor turns a deaf ear, and a stern countenance to the complaints of his subjects, he ventures on an experiment which, from the days of Rehoboam, has tended to produce the effect of throwing the people on their own resources, and of compelling them to learn, what they seldom seem to learn in any other way, the tremendous secret of their united strength. Still more impolitic does it appear, when the awful crisis has been actually provoked, to seek to divert the storm by lying prostrate before its fury. The appeal once made to force, the passions of the multitude once excited, though resistance may be doubtful, a feeble and temporising policy is inevitable destruction. But a yet more injurious course than either of these, is that of intrigue and chicanery. As in private differences, this poisons the very sources of confidence between man and man, so, in political conflicts, it destroys every hope of reconciliation, and by taking away all reliance except on personal exertions, renders open hostility the only chance of safety, puts aside all disposition to moderate councils, and suspends every thing upon the arbitration of the sword.

Of every one of these political blunders has the French Revolution been an illustration. Though the personal character of Louis XVI. 'was pure and benevolent,' and though we give him perfect credit for sincerity in the following declaration,'

• M. de Malesherbes thus speaks of the interview :-I was the first to announce to him the decree of death. He was seated with his back turned to a lamp placed upon the chimney. He leaned with his elbows upon the table, his face covered with his hands. The noise I made in entering drew him from his meditation. He looked at me,

and, rising, said, "For two days I have been occupied in trying to recollect if I have, in the course of my reign, merited from my subjects the slightest reproach. I swear to you, Monsieur Malesherbes, in all the sincerity of my heart, as a man who goes to appear before God, I have constantly desired the happiness of my people, and I have never formed a single wish that was contrary to it." p. 247.

Yet, such was the imbecillity of his advisers, and the vacillation of his councils, that his intentions were invariably perverted, and his policy had so wavering and uncertain an aspect and character, that his friends were baffled in every effort, and his enemies, in perfect security, chose their own time to strike. He succeeded to the Monarchy of France, under the most unfavourable auspices: the very foundations of the throne bad been loosened and undermined by the folly and iniquity of his ancestors. The exhausting ambition, and the impoverishing magnificence of Lewis the XIVth, had left France bleeding and debilitated. The pacific administration of Fleury, might have restored the national vigour, had it not at the same time relaxed the reins of Government. The gross and loathsome debauchery of the later years of Louis XV, completed the work; infidelity, immorality, and impiety broke in like a flood, and the realm of France was filled with a fierce and lawless populace, and with men fitted by nature and by circumstances, to urge and lead it on to the most desperate enterprizes.

Possibly, a monarch of powerful mind, might have overmastered the crisis; he might have either given to the spirit of the uation a military direction, and turned aside the danger of internal commotion, by disturbing the tranquillity of foreign states; or he might, be taking the lead in the general movement, have identified himself with the Revolution, and turned it to salutary purposes.

But we are not now called upon to repeat the common-places of the Revolutionary history, and it shall suffice us to remark, that Divine Providence was pleased at this critical period, to place upon the throne of France, a King whose personal character was exemplary in virtue and kindness, but whose want of energy and decision ruined himself, his family, his friends, and his country. His abilities were of no mean order, and his acquisitions considerable; his weaknesses were neither intellectual, moral, nor physical, but they were such as altogether unfitted him for the awful emergencies among which he was cast. He was a man of respectable talents, but without political sagacity; strong in virtuous resolution, but undecided in his official acts; brave with that better sort of intrepidity which faces the most depressing vicissitudes and the most appalling dangers, with calm and dignified self-possession, but deplorably deficient in that more available species of courage which averts danger by

anticipating assault: he crushed his friends by sparing his enemies, and sacrificed himself, rather than shed the blood of his oppressors. The admirable peroration of his eloquent advocate, M. de Séze, at the bar of the Convention, is at once expressive of the true character of this amiable and unfortunate Monarch, and prophetic of the righteous retribution which awaited his judicial murderers.

"Listen," said the orator; "listen, by anticipation, to the words which History willaddress to posterity :-Louis mounted the throne at the age of twenty-one; at the age of twenty-one he was on the throne, the pattern of morality. He carried thither no criminal weakness, no corrupt passion; he was there economical, just, and strict; he there shewed himself to be the constant friend of the people. The people wished that a disastrous tax, bearing hard upon them, might be repealed; he repealed it. He abolished servitude in his domains; he made reforms in the criminal code, to mitigate the fate of culprits. Some Frenchmen were deprived of the rights that belong to citizens; these he restored by his laws: the people demanded liberty; he gave it to them. He anticipated the desires of the people by innumerable personal sacrifices. And yet, in the name of that very people-! Citizens; I go no farther!-To history I leave the rest. Reflect upon the judgment you are about to pass, and remember that hers will be the judgment of endless ages."' pp. 238-9.

The present work is a sufficiently interesting compilation from various sources, and especially from the publications of lue, Clery, and the Duchess of Angoulême. These, it is true, have been for some time completely before the public, but the writer of this volume, has interwoven their various memoirs into one unbroken story, retaining enough of the original style and character of each, to preserve the peculiar and personal interest connected with individual narrative.

Messrs. Hue and Clery, it is generally known, were in the personal service of Louis. The first of these was in the Tuilleries at the time of the assault, and with difficulty escaped from the scene of slaughter.

At the moment when the rioters carried fury and carnage into the palace, several of the gates continued locked, which served to increase the horror and confusion. Every one was running, pushing, and struggling to escape death. Not knowing myself that I should avoid it, I jumped with many others through one of the palace windows into the garden, which I crossed through a fire of musketry that killed a great number of the Swiss. Pursued beyond the garden, I had no resourse but to throw myself into the Seine. I was almost exhausted when I fortunately reached a boat, into which I was taken, and saved by the boatman. Early next day I learnt that the royal family had passed the night at the convent of the Feuillans. Hastening thither, I crossed the court and garden of the Thuileries, Turning my eyes from the dead bodies which were still lying about,

and overcoming all obstacles, I at length got to the king's chamber. I found him in bed, with a coarse cloth about his head. He looked at me piteously, called me to him, and, pressing my hand, desired me with great eagerness to give him an account of what happened at the palace after he left it. Oppressed with grief and tears, I could scarcely speak. From me the king learned the death of several persons for whom he had an affection.' pp. 96-97.

He afterwards accompanied his Master to the Temple, and with M. Chamilly, attended the King and the Dauphin; their first introduction to this dreary dwelling is thus described.



At length, the municipal breaking the dead silence he had served the whole way, "Your master," said he to me, was used to gilt ceilings: he shall now see how the assassins of the people are lodged. Follow me." I followed him up several steps. narrow low door led me to a spiral staircase. When from this principal staircase, I entered upon a smaller one, which conducted me to the second floor, I perceived that I was in a tower. I went into a room which had but one window, and scarcely any furniture, there being only a bad bed, and three or four chairs. "Here," said the municipal to me, "is the place where your master is to sleep," Chamilly had joined me: we looked at each other without uttering a syllable. A pair of sheets was thrown to us as a favour: and we were at length left alone for a few moments.

A dirty old bedstead, which had all the appearance of being infested with vermin, stood in a recess, without hangings or curtains. We did all we could to make the bed and the room as clean as possible. The king came in, but shewed neither surprise nor displeasure. Engravings, most of which were of an indecent nature, hung round the chamber these his majesty took down with his own hand. cannot,” said he, "suffer such things to be seen by my daughter." He then went to bed, and slept tranquilly.' pp. 106-107.



Soon after this, Chamilly was withdrawn, and Hue alone was permitted to remain in attendance upon the King. His details of the various events which occurred, of the innumerable privations sustained by the Royal Family, and of the insults and injuries to which they were daily subjected, as well as of the manner in which they employed their time, and the ingenious artifices by which they contrived to procure intelligence, are extremely interesting; but as they are not capable of abridgement, and are, moreover, generally known, we shall pass on to the period at which he was separated from Louis, and, on the fatal second of September, arrested in the Temple, and conveyed to the Hotel de Ville, for examination before the Commune. When he alighted, the crowd, which was immense, recognised him, and abused him in the grossest and most sanguinary terins. His trial was extremely short, and he was about to be sacrificed, when a municipal officer, probably with a benevolent design, interfered; and after suggesting that the prisoner was no

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