when tears at the feet of Napoleon hensible. a British musket having When the F: the cause. But if no that the Russians to Germany, conFriedland, he immeyere sent to manded all the corps, even ypt; the those directed against Königence was to join him, and proceeded hims Elbe with the guards to the field of battle. to It was about eleven o'clock when he reached the ground, and having reconnoitred the Russian army, declared that "they were lost, and that the day would be a fortunate one, as it was the anniversary of the battle of Marengo." The vast superiority of force at Napoleon's command rendered the fulfilment of the prediction sufficiently probable, and, as the result proved, it was more fortunate than the one which foretold the destruction of the British on the morning of the battle of Waterloo, and which is, therefore, less regularly cited by his biographers. There are few men who might not claim the gift of prophecy were their just predictions only to be quoted, whilst their errors are totally overlooked.

Napoleon, from a letter to Murat, written early in the forenoon, seems to have been long undecided whether he should attack the "lost" Russians on the "anniversary of Marengo," or delay the onset till next morning. General Oudinot estimated the strength of the Russians at 80,000 men; the emperor thought them much stronger, and hesitated. A great part of the day was thus lost in deliberation, and it was six o'clock in the evening before the advance took place. The main effort was directed against the left of the Russians; swarms of French tirailleurs drove their light troops from the wood of Schortlacken, and supported the advance of Ney's corps, which, leaning its right on the wood, took the direction to Friedland; while Lannes and Mortier assailed the right and centre of Benningsen's line. It was a direct front onset, in which the result, as usual, was simply trusted to the gallantry of the troops and the skill of subordinate commanders. The combat was soon general along the whole front; the Russians, though outnumbered, fought resolutely, and gained brilliant advantages on several points, but, overpowered at last, their left wing gave

times, suits the wealthy and influential classes, and is too strongly supported by selfishness to be shaken by the destruction of a few thousand brave soldiers, sacrificed by the folly and incapacity of their leaders.

It was not on the land alone that the reverses of the British were to be confined during this disastrous Aneriod. The very waves over which of Cioag had so long held triumphant onets of the doomed at last to behold vision, passing-re of her fleets.

Mortier's corps, effect Duckworth, by the Welau road. The pas was not pressed with vigour, and no prisoners were taken, where it might have been supposed that whole regiments would have been captured. The French, if we believe their own statement, purchased this important victory at the expense of only 1500 killed and 5000 wounded. The Russians returned theirs at 8000 men slain and disabled. A few dismounted field-pieces were the only trophies that fell into the hands of the conquerors.

The defeated army drew back towards the Niemen, and General Lestocq abandoned Königsberg to accompany them in their retreat. It was the melancholy fate of this gallant and small band of Prussians, who had fought so nobly and so well, to be driven at last from the very land of their fathers, to follow in the train of foreign auxiliaries, and abandon the very soil that gave them birth. The French pressed feebly on the movement, which was effected without difficulty. The army crossed the Niemen at Tilsit, and were joined by twelve newly raised Prussian battalions and two Russian divisions, together with 4000 Cossacks, making, independently of the latter, about 25,000 men ; a reinforcement that, in point of mere numbers, more than compensated for the losses sustained in the last battle. But troops and officers were discouraged, the moral strength and confidence of the army were greatly reduced; and it is believed that the Emperor Alexander was more inclined to carry on a war of conquest against the Turks, to imitate in the east the example of Napoleon in the west, than to continue a contest in which honour alone was to be gained.

On the 21st Benningsen sent a

night, fell back to Bartenstein and Schlippenbeil, intending to retire beyond the Pregel, and there assemble the different divisions of his army. In a letter to the Emperor Alexander, and of which the Grand-Duke Constantine was bearer, he explains, in a very clear manner, the causes which prevented him from availing himself with his vastly inferior army, and false movement made by vantage of at this time,--a circuch might susrenders his suby be doubted. From more vasion of Russia and a farther march towards the north nothing was to be gained; the frontier provinces presented no object that could be assailed with any prospect of ultimate benefit, and to advance against the capital, with an army already reduced by the losses of the Polish campaign, was entirely out of the question. An armistice was, therefore, the most welcome offer that could have been made to Napoleon, and was immediately accepted. As at Leoben, and again after the battle of Austerlitz, so here, also, his enemies laid down their arms and sued for peace at the very moment when the best chances of success were in their favour. High personal courage had been displayed in the battlefield, moral courage was again totally wanting.

The interview at Tilsit, and the treaty which followed, and which reduced Prussia to the rank of a secondrate power, belong not to our subject; and this chapter might fitly close here were it not right to say a few words of the conduct pursued by the British government during this important act of the great continental war.

It is not to be denied that the conduct of the English government tended in a great measure to the deplorable issue of this unfortunate contest. The British cabinet had not merely refused to guarantee a loan that Russia wished to negotiate, but had given the Emperor Alexander a subsidy of only 80,000l., to assist him in assembling and equipping the forces of his huge and unwieldy empire. During the first wars carried on against France, and

t could From comparing thet, England of several well-inform her subsidies; it is evident thatisters, as ignorant fought contraffairs as their predetention, eeing how unprofitably gold what ten lavished by the Tories, now to into the other extreme, and Became penurious at the very moment when liberality might have proved greatly beneficial, leaving the nation ultimately to pay in blood and treasure for the incapacity of both parties. But if the pecuniary aid furnished to Russia at the time was unworthy of a great and wealthy country, the military efforts made by England in support of the common cause were absolutely dishonourable to a people that once stood foremost in the ranks of war, and who were well able, as events proved, to retain their ground against the boldest adversaries. But many a disaster had yet to be experienced before victory brightened the dark horizon.

On the death of Mr. Pitt the Whigs had come into power, and boasted on their accession to office, that "they brought with them all the talents of the country to the service of the state." Great things were consequently expected from them, and were within their reach; but what was really great in character was never attempted, what was attempted was little and of a discreditable nature, and great only in the shame and sorrow which defeat spread over the land.

Informed in ample time of the certainty of a war between France and Prussia, and with numerous unvanquished armies fully at their disposal in England, the British government did not send a single soldier to Germany. The stubborn resistance of the Russians protracted the Polish campaign to the very middle of summer, but nothing could move the dull apathy of Downing Street. It was in vain that Count Münster urged Lord Grey upon the subject,* in vain that Rügen, Colberg, Stralsund, offered secure points for landing-not a soldier was sent. The battle of Friedland was fought, and Continental Europe prostrated

for years at the feet of Napoleon without a British musket having been fired in the cause. But if no troops were sent to Germany, considerable armaments were sent to Buenos Ayres and to Egypt; the battle for national independence was fought on the shores of the Elbe and the Vistula; the British sent to aid the cause appeared on the banks of the Nile and the river Plate, and were signally defeated, where the most brilliant success could have led to no beneficial result.

Though General Whitelock, the commander of the expedition sent to Buenos Ayres, was tried and cashiered by the sentence of a court-martial, no inquiry was ever instituted into the real causes that led to these disasters, and occasioned trained and disciplined troops to be defeated, and even routed, by totally undisciplined bands. That the misfortune arose from the deficiency of modern tactics and the British practice of selling promotion, cannot be doubted. But knowledge makes slow progress in the profession of arms; the princes and men of high degree who are always at the head of modern armies, rarely allow that others can see what they themselves do not behold. Subordination also tends to impose silence, authority keeps those at a distance who are even supposed to doubt; and professional vanity shields error, however deeply dyed with the blood of the brave.

The

practice of selling military rank, the most disgraceful remnant of barbarism still allowed to stain the institutions of what are styled civilised

times, suits the wealthy and influential classes, and is too strongly supported by selfishness to be shaken by the destruction of a few thousand brave soldiers, sacrificed by the folly and incapacity of their leaders.

It was not on the land alone that the reverses of the British were to be confined during this disastrous period. The very waves over which her flag had so long held triumphant sway, were doomed at last to behold the discomfiture of her fleets.

A fleet under Admiral Duckworth, sent against Constantinople, was obliged to retire with great loss, after having forced the passage of the Dardanelles, and anchored within sight of the Turkish metropolis. Imbecile diplomacy snatched the palm of victory from the hands of gallant seamen.

The lustre of the British flag was tarnished, and many gallant lives unprofitably sacrificed because the parties appointed to negotiate with the Turks were total strangers to the power, character, and resources of the people. Interest and favour had recommended ambassadors and negotiators for offices, the duties of which they proved themselves unable to fulfil. But though the nation was forced to pay in shame, and with the blood of its seamen, for the incapacity of its servants, the heavy disaster led to no change of the unhappy practice, which in England makes wealth, influence, and power, the standard, according to which all merit, whether civil or military, is tried and estimated.

Ir is strange how much deeper and more enduring is our sympathy with sorrow than with joy. Many a cheerful home do I pass in my country rambles, before many a cottagedoor do I pause to watch the merry children at their play; but there is one house before which I always linger with a melancholy interest, and, often as I pass it, I still feel the same sinking of the heart when I draw near, as I did when it was first deserted years ago, and when the history of its latest inmates was in every body's mouth. This sadness may spring, in part, from selfish considerations. In my early childhood I first was led to this cottage; in after years, when the hopes of youth were warm about my heart, my favourite ramble was still in this direction; and now, when childhood and youth have faded like dreams, I bend my steps hither again, and count over the treasures I have lost. Alas! I may well grieve over my diminished store, and, in the exuberant gladness and fertility of summer, this old house seems the only thing that is changed even as I am. But it was not of myself I meant to speak.

Holly Cottage (for by this name was the now desolate habitation once known) stands in the very heart of the New Forest, and on the edge of some enclosed land that once was a stately park. Immediately behind it is a hanging wood of elm and beech, with here and there a tall pine towcring above its neighbours. Through this wood and across the cottage garden trickles a little stream, clear and noisy, though now half-hidden by cresses and reeds, and the wood itself is peopled with a large colony of rooks. The cottage contains but four rooms, but its ample porch used to furnish a fifth apartment in summer time, and though the woodbine once trained over it, so glorious in its blossoming season, lies dead upon the ground, yet I love to stand in that spot still, for the view seen thence is one of exceeding beauty. Gentle undulations, clothed in grass and crowned with noble trees, are im

mediately opposite; while to the left stretches a vista of distant country, blue and hazy, a very dream-land for the fancy; and to the right winds away the long green valley, its termination lost in woods of oak, beech, and holly. Beautiful it is at all times!-when the spring uncurls the fern-leaves, and calls forth verdure on every tree; when the golden furze-bloom makes the summer air heavy with its rich perfume, and the crimson bells of the foxglove wave slowly in the evening wind; when the breath of autumn passes over the heathery slopes and bids them blush into beauty; and even in winter, when the old oaks lift their bare branches in the frosty sunshine. Now and then-nay, almost every evening, the deer steal down to feed in the valley, raising their graceful heads if a step comes near, and bounding away over the hill, so suddenly that you might believe you had but fancied they were before your eyes a few moments ago.

Alas! a change is threatened to this lovely forest-land. Through these calm, green recesses, where the poor man's cattle feed beside the stately deer, disturbed by few travellers, a railroad is to be made. These quiet shades, where now rises no harsher sound than the waving of the boughs, the night-cry of the owl, or the hunter's merry shout, will soon be alive with the shrill whistle of the steam-engine. Quiet nooks in this great natural temple, long leafy aisles that have been my favourite haunts for years, are to be sacred no longer to high and holy thought. It may be all well, but I could have wished such changes had not been made in my day. Many voices are raised to oppose the making of a railroad through the Forest. The rich man dreads it may be brought too near his drawing-room windows; the lover of hunting fears interruption of his darling amusement ; the farmer of small substance trembles for the safety of his cattle; while all talk alike of the injury to the poor, and the invasion of forest rights. All good reasons, no doubt; but I

have yet another. I grieve that one more breathing-place for the lover of Nature, yet unprofaned by the improvements of man, should be taken away. Perhaps we are hardly able to appreciate the influence-ay, and the usefulness of scenes like these, appealing to us in the midst of a trafficking, ever-moving world, in behalf of beauty and of peace. These are romantic notions, I dare say, but I am indulgent to them, for they are all that remain to me of my youth.

But to return to the cottage. The three noble holly-trees from which it received its name, are still standing on the green before the door; but that green, once so carefully trimmed, is now covered with coarse matted grass. The flower-beds, too, are overgrown with grass and weeds, through which, here and there, a pale and sickly rose struggles to the light, or some half-dead currant-bush displays its shrunken fruit.

Some

of the tiles from the cottage-roof have fallen about the garden, and it is now hardly safe to enter at the open door and tread the uneven floor, for the crazy building trembles at every step. Immediately at the back of the cottage is an opening (for the gate has fallen from its hinges), from which a path leads, through the wood I have mentioned, into the park, now let to a farmer. The ground slopes gently upward to the spot on which stood the mansion of a family now passed away from the face of the earth. I can remember when the old house was pulled down. One of its latest proprietors, in grief for the death of his wife and daughters, left for ever the home in which they had delighted; and it remained for many years entirely without inhabitant. There was a pleasuregarden before it, surrounded with an iron railing, and entered by a lofty gate between stone pillars, each surmounted by a rampant lion supporting a shield. The garden had been formally laid out, with straight walks and quaintly shaped flowerbeds. Here and there was a statue or an urn, often beautified by the blossoms of some wild plant that had twined its light tendrils about it; and a vigorous wild-rose-tree had almost hidden the somewhat ungraceful Naiad who presided over the

ruined fountain. There was nothing beautiful in the architecture of the large old house, but many of the apartments it contained were noble in size and perfect in their proportions. In my youth I often made my way into the hall by a broken window. It was a very fine room, with panels of old oak. Over the broad fire-place still hung a picture representing a hawking party, and a few pieces of armour were attached to the walls. Often, standing alone in that deserted house, have I started to hear the rattling of helmet and shield as the wind swayed them to and fro. The gilded mouldings of the ball-room were falling to the ground, and its painted walls already stained with damp. Latterly, the staircase was in so dilapidated a state that I feared to ascend it; but at one time I used to range over the whole house, where still were scattered many relics of the dead. Books, vases for flowers, pieces of musicgraceful mementos of the youth and beauty which had once made that dwelling joyful-were left, as if to make its present state seem yet more sad and desolate. In one small chamber, commanding a lovely prospect, I found a volume of poems laid open on the window-seat, stained by the rain that had fallen upon it through the broken panes. Near it was a glass containing the remains of some withered flowers, and a faded sketch, on which was written the name of "Emily Courtland,”-frail memorials that yet had outlasted the beautiful being whose hand placed them there.

From some of the windows at the back of the house was seen the main stream, one of whose branches passed through the wood on the edge of the park, and across the garden attached to Holly Cottage. This stream formed a beautiful feature in the landscape, flowing through rich, green meadows with a strong and rapid current, and sending its sweet music to my ear many and many a time as I sat musing in the neglected mansion. Perhaps it was then and there that I learned to be a dreamer and a moraliser; but I was young: and in youth, in very wilfulness, we seek out sadness as eagerly as in later years we long to cast it from us.

In those days there was little about