Napoleon's unexpected return to France, the means and the mode of that event are the circumstances which now create the greatest interest. Nobody ought to have supposed that that restless, faithless being, could long be detained in any place which he disliked. Elba was the retreat selected by himself: but its being so was not a proof that he would ever like it. It was, however, a substantial reason for not placing him there; and it will long be matter of sincere regret, that Lord Castlereagh's opinions were not permitted to influence that part of the negociation. Napoleon never entertained the humiliating idea of coming to England, to be the scorn of honest men: Caulincourt's having repeatedly declared that he did, ought to have satisfied every body that he did not. He chose Elba, not for the happiness he expected it to yield him; but because he could there, better than any where else, mature the plans already laid with his marshals; and, as a sovereign, enjoy an uninterrupted epistolary intercourse with his brother Joachim, and the sympathising females who had been waltzing and singing duets in Switzerland, with the Empress Maria Louisa. Add to this that he could, with the old mathematical books of which he made so ostentatious an exposure when about to quit France, perfect his knowledge in dynamics; and, at the same time, fix on the rock to which he seemed condemned, the lever which was to move Europe.

To have left the tyrant his head and the choice of his residence, was, as we all know now, more than could consist with the welfare of mankind. Yet there was, perhaps, nothing very improvident in the treaty of Fontainebleau. Lord Castlereagh, who, by being nobly solicitous to shield the exalted character of the Emperor of Russia, affords to those of our countrymen who foresaw but did not choose to foretel all that has happened, daily opportunities of throwing the odium of the measure on himself-Lord Castlereagh has publicly stated, that it was not the habitual humanity of Alexander, nor yet the paternal tenderness of Francis; but the urgency of circumstances arising out of the relative condition of the contending powers, that induced the Allies to suffer their eternal enemy to place himself where he could overlook Italy and France -still rich, and furnished with the nucleus of another armed host. At such a critical juncture, considerations purely humane were

not admissible. And had the daughters of Francis been as numerous as those of Danäus-and all of them wedded to the Napoleoni-it would ill have become him as the father of nations, to yield to an ordinary impulse.

Napoleon's unheeded departure with an armed force from his epitome of an empire, his uninterrupted march over more than half the extent of France, in the presence of troops sent against him by the reigning sovereign; his peaceful entry into the capital, and quiet occupation of a throne which he had lately abdicated; would form no unfit subject for romance, were they not historical facts as solemn as they are real.

And could neither the love of virtue, nor the detestation of vice, raise one patriot arm against this bold intruder? One would imagine, that the story of his matchless guilt were already either forgotten or forgiven in France. Be this as it may, two important questions present themselves: If almost every arm in France has been stretched out to receive Napoleon, and hardly one to oppose him, is he not the choice of the people? And will not any foreign interference in the affairs of France be a crime?

Napoleon may indeed be the choice of those ferocious men whom he had trained to war; and whom, while fortune smiled, he led to victory, and enriched with the spoils of unoffending nations. But he is not the choice of the unarmed population of France-of the peaceful cultivator of the field, the industrious man of business, or the ingenious promoter of the humanising arts. They have had no opportunity of expressing their will, and least of all could they express it either by words or deeds, during his march to the capital. For then the forces which had been called out to oppress him, regardless of the solemn oath they had just before taken, opened an easy route for him, and covered, according to the best rules of Adjutant General Ney's tactics, both his flanks and his rear-repelling every approach of loyalty, and suffering no voice to be heard but such as uttered treason. Never was refined deception carried to such a pitch. The armies sent to oppose Napoleon had been augmented, disciplined, and officered by the minister of war in such a way, as to insure a friendly reception to the invader, whose appearance, though hastened by the apprehension of some unfavorable step being soon taken at Vienna, was by no means

unexpected. And if, in the midst of so much profligacy, McDonald did still hold fast his integrity, Soult took care to pitch against him commanders on whom he could rely.

As to our joining in measures to thwart the views of the disturber of the general repose, that might justly be deemed a culpable interference, were it not in this case, as in the comparatively insignificant one of a private family, a matter of serious consideration, whether one's neighbours be peaceable, humane, and disposed to respect the rights of others; or turbulent, suspected of murder, and not averse to an occasional conflagration. It seems to be next to nothing in the estimation of the French themselves how, or by whom they are governed, provided their vanity be but regularly fed. We might, therefore, very properly leave them alone; and our government would, no doubt, be most happy to do so, had they not the strongest evidence, both external and internal, that that fickle nation under their present ruler, neither can, nor will permit, any of their neighbours, who do not basely crouch before them, to remain in the enjoyment of their acknowledged rights. The contest will therefore be for our liberty and our property; it will be essentially defensive; and in such a case, to inquire whether it will be a just and necessary one, would be not merely useless, but absurd.

We observe farther, that the Prince Regent, in conjunction with his allies, had entered into a treaty with Napoleon, which he has thought proper to violate without preferring any suitable remonstrance; and that it befits not their dignity to submit tamely to a violation so flagrant and insulting. His apology for this instance of bad faith is first, that his wife and son were not restored to him. But the treaty did not provide that they should be restored; his wife had refused to join him; and it was doubted at Vienna whether, or not, he had a son. Next, that Louis XVIII. had withheld his stipend; respecting which, however, he made no complaint to our government, or to the government of any of our allies. The time within which it was stipulated that the payment should be made, had not elapsed; and Louis's sense of justice would not have permitted it to elapse without the claim being fully satisfied-nay, he would have paid the exile in advance, had not his ministers and marshals resolved on trying to furnish one

tenable argument against the honor of their king, by persuading him to defer such generosity. The story of a plan to assassinate him in Elba is a mere French fabrication, good enough, however, for some folks both in Paris and in London. On former occasions, a story of this sort was usually found to be the prelude to some dreadful scene of spoliation and carnage.

What will be the general result of the coming conflict? Will Napoleon triumph? or will he be overcome, and have his pernicious power wrested from him? Admonished to avoid ridicule by the failure of the predictions of some of the leading characters now on the theatre of British politics, we feel more disposed to pause and reflect, than to hazard conjectures. We confess ourselves so much in the dark as to the fate that awaits the usurper of the throne of the Capets, that we do not think it worth while to make it a serious question, whether he will, by and by, be seen dictating, as once before, from Dresden; or swinging on the top of Montmartre. Could any of our readers who were in this country on the 7th of April, 1814, inform those around them at any hour of that day, that Napoleon would then sign his own banishment? or on the 1st ultimo that he would then invade France? If they could not, on either of those occasions, tell what a day might bring forth, let them not think ill of us if we are unable to penetrate the veil that covers perhaps a distant futurity.

But though we do not pretend to know any thing of the certain issue of the war, we may, without impropriety, mention what we think will be its probable issue, which is, that the power of Bonaparte will be extinguished. To enable us to form a rational opinion of this matter, we must call to mind the relative condition of France and the allied powers at a former memorable junc

ture.

We do not allude to the commencement of the French Revolution: for then a powerful, elastic principle actuated the French nation, and in proportion as their minds were fired and elevated by it, those of their opponents were, through the artful application of it to their prejudices and passions, chilled and depressed. Nor do we speak of the time when Napoleon committed the enormous blunder, both political and military, of marching upon Moscow; NO. 1. Aug. Rev.

VOL. I.

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for then two thirds of the forces of Europe-with the same pro portion of its strong holds, were his. We have in our contempla tion the relative state of the power of the French empire, and of those who made head against it, at the opening of the campaign in 1813.

At that time all the fortresses in the Netherlands and the inte rior of Germany, as well as those at Hamburgh, Stralsund, Dantzic-and thence through Poland and Silesia, the Tyrol, Italy, and the range of the Pyrennees to the Bay of Biscay, were garrisoned by his troops. The sovereigns of the countries in which they were situated were his devoted friends; and one part of the population of those countries could easily be brought into the field, while the other was condemned to inaction through the presence of their oppressors. The conscription was in full force and activity, and at every turn produced the most frightful effects. Napoleon too could supply the deficits of his treasury in some places by merciless, temporary exactions; in others through the subserviency of the constituted authorities, and the fulfilment of treaties forced upon those whom he had visited either as friends or foes. Such was his gigantic power in 1813: yet he was beaten and compelled to flee with a force barely sufficient to protect his person.

But if his fate was such then, what may we suppose it will be at the close of the campaign just about to open, on which he en ters with means greatly diminished, and in which almost every thing that has been taken from him, will be at the disposal of his enemies? To be more particular: if he was overthrown and covered with disgrace in 1813, what ought Europe to expect now when his armies cannot be recruited through the violent operation of the conscription—even in submissive, pliant France; when the places of strength beyond the French frontier which he then held, are occupied by his opponents; when his former vassals are ready to act strenuously against him; when the allied sovereigns have credit because they have honor, and can depend for pecuniary aid on the industry and enterprise of their subjects—while he is with out credit, because he is without common honesty, and, prevented from robbing his neighbours, can look no-where for money but to the exhausted coffers of a people who, incessantly barrassed either