Miscellany [pp. 820-824]

824 2JIISCELLANY [DECEMBER 27,
Broglie, Bishop of Ghent, a reptile; the emigrants who were faithful to the monarchy,
and the priests who disapproved of the Concordat," scum of the earth." He calumniated
the Duc d'Enghien by pretending that he
had proffered him his services. He accused
Grouchy of the defeat at Waterloo, Bernadotte of not having come to his aid on the
field of Eylau. He showed himself a true
Corsican to the last. It was a boast of his
that he had never committed any crimes privately. This was a lie. His Corsican enemies, Arene and Cerrachi, fell into a trap of
his setting, and lost their lives. Pichegru
was strangled by his order; several former
Jacobins were summoned before a council of
war, and by his private command condemned
to death. The assassination of the Due
d'Enghien made a noise in the world because
he was a Bourbon. History will some day
relate many analogous cases hitherto left in
obscurity. Nero and Torquemada destroyed
fewer lives throughout their entire career
than did Bonaparte during a single month of
his reign. I believe that, from 1804 to 1815,
his victims (including Frenchmen and others)
numbered not less than six million men. It
would be important to know how many deservers were shot. Each principal town of
the several departments had its place auz fusillades, and many towns of the second rank
also. Probably several thousand French subjects were shot before councils of war for
mere desertion.
France has never had such an enemy. If
she perishes, it will be by the application of
the Napoleonic idea-that is to say, by falsehood, audacity, despotism, cunning, hypocrisy, war, luxury, corruption. The eulogists
of this man have been visionaries, unscrupuous worshipers of brute force, soldiers,
priests, the ignorant, and the servile in fine,
all who venerate the devil more than God,
and who are incapable of resigning themselves for the good of humanity to the inconveniences of entire liberty. He has been
popular in France because the French are
imaginative, and have believed hitherto that
their emperor defended France and their republic against all Europe. Writers and artists
have encouraged this notion. In exalting
and poitisant the emperor, they have sold
their works and attained a success. Next to
the history of religion, the history of war
has most attraction for the popular mind, and
the apologists of Napoleon have followed the
example of religious writers and artists, who
repeat the lives of saints and martyrs in
poetry, painting, and sculpture.
To sum up the characteristics of Napoceon, he possessed one of the vastest intellects ever known, owing such superiority to
his utter insensibility to impressions, his sluggish temperament, his wonderful faculty of
combination and reasoning; war was to him a
pastime; politics a personal affair only; he
possessed neither religious, moral, nor political beliefs; he held the human iace in profound contempt, and was the greatest egotist
ever known; a man of prodigious aptitude
for knavery and mystification, and for administrative power; an intellectual giant, who
caused the retrogression of France and of all
Europe, and who possessed one of the worst
hearts that the history of the human race
has disclosed.-Temple Bar.
-4,
I7EE L AST OF THE ITAL~AN2 BOUR BONS.
In a small but beautiful villa, near the
flourishing borough of Eilingen, in Bavaria,
lives the last of the Italian Bourbons, the unfortunate ex-King Francis II. of Naples. Upon
no ruler probably have been visited the sins
of his fathers more mercilessly than upon the
head of this still young man, who, but a few
months previous to his sudden downfall, was
numbered among the most fortunate of European sovereigns, and who now is shunned even
by the simple German peasantry among whom
he lives.
Other dethroned kings have rescued millions from the shipwreck of their power. Francis II. of Naples, for one who has sat on a
royal throne, is poor. He has little more to
depend upon than the interest on his wife's
dower, he having foolishly spent all his own
property in hopeless efforts to recover the
throne of Naples.
Even the Farnese Palace in Rome, his
magnificent residence during the first year
of his exile, was swallowed up in this financial ruin. At present he lives in a house of
fourteen rooms. His wife, the ex-Queen Maria, has two maids; he, the ex-king, an old
attendant-who, by courtesy, is called an aidede-camp-a groom, a butler, and a coachman.
Every morning, at an early hour, the exking and his wife take a ride on horseback,
for there are four saddle-horses and four coachhorses in the royal stable. Francis II., on
these occasions, still wears an old Neapolitan
undress uniform and high top-boots. Nothing can be more gloomy than the expression
of his swarthy, withered face. He looks like
a man of fifty, and yet he is but little over
thirty. His sombre costume renders this even
more striking. His wife Maria, who, ten
years ago, was yet a remarkably handsome
woman, also bears in her features a most unmistakable expression of the misfortunes she
has undergone. But, while her husband looks
dejected, nay, has a sort of haiig-dog look in
his countenance, her mien is still haughty,
her eyes lustrous, and her mouth as supercilious as when, at Gaeta, in 1860, she rebuked
her royal consort's officers for their shameful,
cowardly conduct. She dresses in plain black
silk, and wears an old-fashioned hat. Her
horsemanship is excellent, her husband's execrable.
They gallop round the little pond on the
outskirts of the borough, canter through the
adjoining grove, and return at a slow pace.
On the week-days they disappear entirely.
The ex-queen reads, prays, and embroiders;
the ex-king smokes, eats opium, and plays
cards with his aide-de-camp. At six o'clock
the royal couple diiie. The repast is simple,
for neither of them is an epicure; but two servants wait upon them most ceremoniously,
calling Francis " sire" and Maria "your majesty." In the evening the curate and his
adjunct are frequent visitors, and then the
news of the day is talked over. At ten everybody retires for the night.
The Bavarian relatives of this unfortunate
couple keep entirely aloof from them. King
Louis II. takes no notice of them. The queendowager, who is a Protestant, ignores them
completely. Prince Luitpold visits them perhaps once a year, and then brings the papal
nuncio along from Munich. And yet this forgotten and neglected queen is a sister of the
reigning Empress of Austria; and this dejected, unhappy king had once the fairest of
Italian cities at his feet, and sat on the throne
of Charles of Aragon and Ferdinand II.
On Sundays the ex-king and queen, with
all their attendants, go to the borough church.
It is a very plain, old edifice, and the interior
contains few decorations, except what the
royal exiles have bestowed upon the church.
To see Francis II. and Maria kneeling in the
midst of the coarsely-clad Bavarian peasants
is a most suggestive spectacle.
Their neighbors look upon them with a
sort of superstitious aversion and awe. "God's
finger is upon him!" say these simple-minded
peasants when talking about the ex-king. As
for Queen Maria, they say, in a half-pitying
tone: "Poor lady! She was too ambitious!"
At times, they say, when Francis II. is
under the influence of the noxious drug to
which he is addicted, he talks in a wild and
rambling manner about the crown he has lost,
and he takes terrible oaths to reconquer the
dominions of his fathers. But, when he be comes himself again, he is pitifully languid,
indolent, and dull.
Faded royalty has, perhaps, never appeared
under a more melancholy aspect. The vic tims of the cruelty of the Neapolitan kings
are avenged. - Translated for the JOURNAI
from the Volkstaat.
----
LAFA YETTE.
The leading feature of Lafayette's character was VANITY. He wvas ambitious, not so
much of real power as of its Appearance, of
iclat, and of vainglory. Self.consciousness
of power was nothing to him unaccompanied
by the acclamations of the mob. In what-'
ever position he stood, in whatever society
he found himself, whether it was that of
kings, nobles, senators, soldiers, or shopkeepers, he desired to be the central figure,
the cynosure of every eye and of all applause.
He had not power of mind for supreme command; he burned for its gclat, but shrank
from its responsibility. Thus, to stand between Louis XVI. and the people, to be the
protector and master of the one, the liberator and champion of the other, and the observed of all, was to obtain the acme of his
ambition. In such leading-strings he would
have held every government of France; the
moment it escaped from his hands, and that
other names were larger and more frequent
in men's mouths, he became a revolutionist.
During the whole reign of Napoleon, he entirely withdrew himself from public affairs,
not only because he conscientiously disapproved of his rule, but because, in the presence of that iron will and splendid genius,
he felt that he would be utterly insignificant.
Courageous as a soldier, he was timid in resolution. 4. sincere enthusiast for republican
institutions, he shrank from their realization.
A man of energy and genius at the head of
that vast citizen army of which he was the
creator, would have determined the revolution in its earliest days; but when the moment for decisive action came, opposing fears
and scruples paralyzed his will to impotency.
In so excitable a country as France, he was a
dangerous citizen; more dangerous in his
weakness than he would have been had he
been gifted with daring and mental power;
for, while especially adapted to destroy government, he had not the reconstructive genius of Cromwell or Napoleon, to give a something in their place. In fine, "he had every
great quality, yet something was wanting in
each." *
Yet, beneath all the weakness and vanity
of the head, there beat a noble heart, in which
love of liberty and hatred of despotism were
enshrined in its highest place. The devotion of his person and fortune to the cause
of American freedom is one of the most generous actions on record. The fortitude with
which he endured his long and terrible imprisonment, and the ardor with which, in the
gloom of his loathsome dungeon, he still fostered those dreams of liberty to which he
owed all his sufferings, are traits of constancy
and greatness of soul to which could be found
but few parallels. To the poor he was the
most generous of friends —to the alleviation
of their sufferings he devoted much of his income, and, during the terrible cholera-time in
Paris, he himself bore from house to house
food and wine, and medicine, and money, and
worked unceasingly to mitigate the horrors
of sickness and death that raged around him.
Above all, he was generous to fallen opponents. —Temple Bar.
* Dumont.
824
MISCELLANY.
[DECEMBER ~ 7,