ward his mouth to take it, drew it back. He the hands of the enemy. I am going to mawished to continue this game, but, at the second noeuvre in such a way that you may possibly be trial, the child turned away his head; his father several days without hearing from me. Should then offered him the morsel in earnest, but the the enemy advance on Paris in such force as to boy obstinately refused it. As the emperor render assistance impossible, take measures for looked surprised, Madame de Montesquiou said. the departure, in the direction of the Loire, of that the child did not like to be deceived; he the Empress-regent, my son, the grand dignitahad pride, she said, and feeling. Pride and ries, the ministers, the great officers of the crown, feeling! Napoleon repeated, that is well-that and the treasure. Do not quit my son, and reis what I like.' And, delighted to find these member that I would rather know that he was qualities in his son, he fondly kissed him." in the Seine than in the hands of the enemies of France. The lot of Astyanax, prisoner among the Greeks, has always appeared to me the saddest in history."

Joseph and the archchancellor laid this letter before the empress, making at the

M. Meneval's subsequent narrative contains other traits of Napoleon's domestic life. The empress, it appears, was mild and good-natured, placid and yielding in her temper, with little strength either of intelsame time some remarks on the bad effects lect or of passions. Her mind seems at all which might ensue from this abandonment times to have taken the tone of surround- of Paris, but leaving the decision to her, ing circumstances with the utmost ease and refusing to incur the responsibility of and quickness. We have seen how readily counselling her to act in opposition to the her fear and hatred of Napoleon were emperor's order. On this she declared, changed into a predisposition, at least, to that though, as the emperor had said, she as affection, before she had ever seen him. well as her son should fall into the Seine, Settled in France, she almost instantly ac- she would not hesitate a moment to depart: quired French feelings and habits. To such the desire he had so distinctly expressed an extent had she, in two or three years, being a sacred order for her. The order been transformed into a French-woman, was obeyed, and on the 29th of March, that in her German correspondence with Maria Louisa and her son left Paris for her family she was often obliged to have recourse to French expressions, because she had forgotten the equivalent words in her mother-tongue. At a later period, when, finally separated from her husband and from France, she found herself once more an Austrian Archduchess in the midst of her own relatives, we observe in the quickness with which she forgot both him and it, and in the ease with which her mind took the hue of her altered fortunes, but another illustration of this chameleon-like quality, which she possessed in so remarkable a degree.

When Napoleon, after his disasters in Russia, commenced the terrible struggle which ended in his ruin in 1814, he invested the Empress with the character of reDuring this period her affection for gent. her husband and zeal in the cause of her adopted country suffered no abatement, even though her own father was now among the number of their enemies. At last, when the Allies had forced their way almost to the gates of Paris, Napoleon sent instructions that his wife and child should leave the capital. His letter to his brother Joseph, written from Rheims, on the 16th of March, 1814, is striking:

"Conformably to the verbal instructions which I have given you, and to the spirit of all my let ters, you are not to permit that in any case the npress and the King of Rome shall fall into

ever.

"When it was time to set out, the young King of Rome refused to leave his apartment. It seemed as if a fatal presentiment had gifted bouillet,' he cried to his mother, it is an ugly him with the second sight. 'Don't go to Ramhouse-let us stay here.' He struggled in the arms of M. de Canisy, the gentleman-usher who carried him, repeating again and again, 'I will not leave my house; I will not go; since papa is away, it is I who am master and he clung to the doors and the banisters of the staircase. This obstinacy excited a painful surprise, and produced melancholy forebodings in those who witnessed it. The carriages defiled slowly, and as if in expectation of a countermand, by the wicket of the Pont Royal. Sixty or eighty people gazed in silence on this cortege, as if it were a funeral procession passing by: it was, indeed, not betray themselves by any manifestation: the funeral of the empire. Their feelings did not a voice was raised to express sorrow for this cruel separation. Had any one been inspired to cut the traces of the horses, the empress would have remained. She passed the gate of the Tuileries, with tears in her eyes and despair in her soul. When she reached the Champs rial city which she left behind her, and which Elysées, she saluted for the last time the impeshe was never more to behold.”

When Napoleon, fallen from his high estate, and no longer emperor of France, had become emperor of Elba, and had gone to take possession of that second Barataria, his consort, with their son, was sent to

Neipperg accompanied her in the remainder of her tour, and returned with her to Vienna, where he still further gained her favor by his zeal and activity in her af fairs, particularly in removing difficulties attending her obtaining the sovereignty of Parma and Placentia.

army. In such an alarming crisis, it was judged necessary to keep stricter watch over his son. The child had hitherto lived with his mother, at Schonbrunn, under the care of his governess, Madame de Montesquiou. From this lady he was now separated and brought to Vienna, where he was lodged in the palace under the care of another governess, the widow of an Austrian general.

Vienna; and it henceforward became her father's policy to detach her thoughts and feelings from her husband, and to break the ties which united her to France. He knew her character, doubtless, and succeeded as easily as he could have expected. She was separated as much as possible from her French friends and attendants, induced to At this time arrived the news of Napoadopt her old habits and occupations, and leon's return from Elba, and his being amused with journeys and parties of plea- once more at the head of a formidable sure. But, whatever she did, and whereever she went, she was carefully watched, and every precaution was taken to obliterate French reminiscences and associations. In a visit to the baths of Aix-la-Chapelle, an Austrian general introduced himself into her society, and a division of troops under his command was stationed in the neighborhood. This officer, General Neipperg, was an emissary of Metternich, and, according to M. Meneval, a perfect serpent Soon after this, M. Meneval, finding his in matters of seduction. When Austrian situation in Vienna become every day more minister at Stockholm, in 1812, he was and more disagreeable, in consequence of no stranger to the concoction of the the jealousy and suspicions shown towards treaty of Örebro, whereby Bernadotte took the French members of Maria Louisa's up arms against the sovereign to whom he suite, returned to Paris. Before his deowed his rise in the world, and agreed to parture, he went to take leave of the young deliver him up to his enemies. If this be prince, whom he never saw again. There true, it argues consummate duplicity on is something touching in his account of the part of the Austrian cabinet, at a mo- this final parting. The boy was then about ment when Austria was still in alliance four years old. with Napoleon, and when Austrian troops were actually co-operating with his own. From Stockholm, Neipperg was sent to Naples, where his arts and persuasions seduced the unfortunate Murat into that coalition with the allies against his relative and ancient comrade, remorse for which led him into the desperate enterprise which ed by new faces. I asked him in their presence cost him his life. The successful tempter was then directed to turn his battery against Prince Eugene, but that chivalrous soldier was proof against his wiles.

This personage, according to our author, was employed by Metternich to work the desired change in the thoughts and feelings of Maria Louisa.

"He was then a little turned of forty, of middle stature, but of a distinguished air. His hussar uniform, and his fair, curled hair, gave him a youthful appearance. A broad black bandeau concealed the loss of an eye; his look was keen and animated; his polished and elegant man. ners, insinuating language, and pleasing accomplishments, created a prepossession in his favor. He speedily got into the confidence and good graces of a good and easy-tempered young woman, driven from her adopted country, with drawn from the devotion of the few French who had adhered to her evil fortunes, and trembling at the further calamities which might still be in store for her."

"I observed, with pain, his serious and even melancholy air. He had lost his gaiety and childish prattle. He did not run to meet me as he was wont, and did not even seem to know me. Though he had been already more than six weeks with the persons to whom he had been entrusted, he had not become accustomed to them, and still looked as if he were surroundif he had any message for his father, whom I was going to see again. He looked at me sadly and significantly without saying any thing; and then, gently withdrawing his hand from mine, walked silently to the embrasure of a distant window. After having exchanged a few ed the place where he was standing, apparently words with the persons in the room, I approachwatching my motions. As I leaned towards him, to say farewell, he drew me towards the window and said softly, looking earnestly in my face, 'Monsieur Mera, you will tell him that I always love him dearly. The poor orphan felt already that he was no longer free, or with his father's friends. He had difficulty in forgetting his 'Mama Quiou,' as he called her, and constantly asked for her of Madame Marchand, his nurse, an excellent woman, who had been allowed to remain with him, and of whom he was very fond. She, too, returned to France the following year; another source of grief for the young prince."

The history of this ill-fated youth is brief, like his life. In 1818, he received

the title of Duke of Reichstadt, with rank | gives them absolution, says mass, and marries immediately after the princes of the Aus-them; and the whole passes without the intertrian imperial family. He was much be-vention of witnesses. There is every reason to loved by the old emperor his grandfather; when Maria Louisa contracted this second marbelieve, however, that the Emperor was dead, and his mother, who had been put in pos-riage. At Vienna, as well as Parma, she alsession of the Duchies of Parma, Placentia, ways declared her firm determination never to and Guastalla, provided liberally for his seek a divorce, or to listen to any such propomaintenance and education, though she sition. Malignity has gratified itsell treated him in other respects with heartless in spreading injurious reports as to the pretendneglect: her affections, by this time, being I believe that they have no foundation. The ed irregularities of Maria Louisa's private life. engrossed by a new object. His talents, moderation of her character, and her unimpaswhich were above the common, were high-sioned nature, must have preserved her from ly cultivated by an excellent education. excess of any kind." But he was kept in a kind of splendid captivity. It was the Austrian policy to render him politically insignificant; to withdraw, as much as possible, the son of their great emperor from the thoughts and recol. lections of the people of France; and, on the other hand, to efface from his mind the memory of what he had been, and what he had been born to. Neither object was accomplished: the attempt was fatal. The sense of his condition preyed on a naturally ardent mind; and the source of his habitual melancholy showed itself in the warmth with which he received such Frenchmen as visited the imperial court, and the interest he took in their conversa

tion. His health gradually declined, and he died, we think in 1833, at the age of about two-and-twenty.

The argument from presumption is but a feeble one, when weighed against opposite presumptions to which her advocate himself, gives countenance. Why has he not told us the date of the marriage between Maria Louisa and Count Neipperg, and the ages of the children? Even the left-handed marriage of a sovereign is solemnized in such a manner as to be matter of evidence and record: but M. Meneval leaves it doubtful whether there was any marriage. Napoleon died in April 1821, two-and-twenty years ago; so that if his widow's children are the legitimate issue of a marriage contracted after his death, it is hardly credible that the two elder' should be now, the one a married woman, and the other an officer in the As to Maria Louisa, she took possession the inquiries necessary to enable him to army. M. Meneval ought to have made of her new sovereignties, and was attended clear up these points. If he did so inefby Count Neipperg in the capacity of her minister. There are circumstances in her fectually, then the obscurity which hangs over the marriage of a personage of soveconnection with this personage, on which M. Meneval either cannot throw light, or reign rank, and over the birth of her children, leads, we think, to only one conis not disposed to do so. He talks of calumny and scandal respecting her private clusion. Indeed M. Meneval, in the paslife; but he leaves it unrefuted. Indeed sage, just quoted, seems to admit that the children were born before the death of from what he himself says, we cannot think the lady's reputation unquestionable. She Napoleon. He says he will not examine was united, he says, to Count Neipperg, by whether a regular act had intervened to a left-handed marriage, and has had three legitimize the children, or whether the union of Maria Louisa with Neipperg, prechildren by him. The eldest married the son of Count San-Vitale, the grand cham- here stated, is either that the children, at ceded Napoleon's death. The alternative berlain of Malta, and resides at his mother's first illegitimate, had been ligitimized by a court. The second, Count de Montenuovo, is an officer in an Austrian regiment: and subsequent marriage; or, that there had been a mock-marriage between them bethe third, a girl, died in her childhood. fore Napoleon's death: a way of compounding with conscience which M. Meneval describes to be so easy in Italy. much mystery, in such a case, is not easily reconcilable with the idea of innocence.

"The fact of this union," says M. Meneval, "being established, I shall not examine whether a regular act had intervened to legitimize the birth of the children, or whether the union of Maria Louisa with Count Neippery preceded the death of Napoleon. In Italy, where sins are so easily compounded for, the sanctification of an union is the simplest thing in the world. Two persons who wish to marry declare their intention before a priest; he confesses them,

So

Count Neipperg died in December last, and Maria Louisa is inconsolable for his

Legitimatio per subsequens matrimonium is admitted in those countries whose jurisprudence is chiefly founded on the Roman law; among others, in Scotland.

ENGLISH NOTIONS OF IRISH AFFAIRS.

From the Dublin University Magazine.

DEAR MAC SHANE.-You are somewhat surprised at the proceedings of the British government in regard to Irish affairs, and you desire to know what the people in England really think of the state of Ireland. I shall tell you all about this as well as I can, but you must not expect to hear any thing reasonable when I am telling you of general impressions. No man who has lived thirty years in the world and looked about him, will hope to find truth in public opinion about occurrences of the day. It may be that public opinion comes right in the end, but if it does, it blunders along through a vast quantity of preposterous notions before it arrives at that end. Men of passion or of subtlety are generally the guides of public opinion, and such men are generally wrong. Either they are the dupes of their own desires, or they wish to dupe others into becoming the instruments of these desires. Show me a man with large gifts for forming and swaying public opinion, and I will show you a man whom it is dangerous to trust in regard to public matters. I say this without any imputation upon their sincerity

"For he is oft the wisest man
Who is not wise at all,"

as the poet sings; and as Edmund Burke
has said, even the lamp of prudence may
blind a man if it shine with unnatural lus-
tre; how much more those lights of genius
which more generally attract the public
admiration, and give a man influence in
guiding the opinion of the multitude!

But to quit moralizing and come to facts: -five-sixths of all the people in England who are worth five hundred pounds and upwards, think the Irish a very dangerous sort of people at all times, and more particularly at present; and they think that at all times it is very meet, right, and prudent, but more particularly at present, to have a strong force in Ireland to overawe the rebellious in spirit, or to crush rebellion if it break out. This feeling however is not connected, as many of you in Ireland might think, with any especial fear or hatred of the Irish people, or with a desire of domination. In short, it is connected with no strong feeling whatever, but simply a sentiment arising from some sense of dignity, and some habit of precaution in regard to all that is strange and not well understood. Of this tolerably general feeling of the middle and upper classes in England re

garding Ireland, you will of course find nothing in the newspapers, because it is their business to deal not so much with the actual as with the prominent Of all the sentiments and actions-the thoughts, words, and works of men-but a very small part indeed thrust themselves forward into public observation, and it is with this small part alone that the public journals have, or ought to have, any thing to do. Yet it is this unexpressed feeling of society which mainly influences the votes of the great mass of members of parliament. It is only the more prominent few who are mainly guided by such reasonings and impressions as are publicly stated and maintained in parliament, or at popular meetings, or in the press. These few are, whether consciously, or unconsciously, public performers, and must study their parts accordingly. They lead in one sense, but in another sense they follow. Their course is under the control of public events as they happen to arise and to arrange themselves, and the deep, effectual under-current often runs in a different direction to that which is at the top, and under direct public observation.

If the feeling of the British nation were consulted, there is no measure however strong which government might think fit to propose for the security of the friends. of British connection in Ireland, that would not be eagerly welcomed. But the feeling of the British nation is one thing, and the affectation of the British House of Commons quite another. The distinction between the reality of British sentiment and that which men venture to profess in the House of Commons is growing broader every year. It is the vice of the time to eschew genuineness, and it is impossible to hinder this vice from having its practical effect; but it is well to mark the difference between events which have their foundation in the national conviction or the national prejudice, and those which flow from a spurious parliamentary affectation. It was this affectation which carried the Roman Catholic emancipation bill. Whether that measure was theoretically right or wrong, it was a measure from which most assuredly the national sentiment of Great Britain revolted; but as by far the greater part of the eloquence and ingenuity of public speaking and public writing had been on its side, it became the affectation of the House of Commons to regard opposition to it as a mark of prejudice or thick-headedness, and so it was carried.

It belongs to the character, the position, the history, and the temper of the present