• deploy, and the regiments were posted with reference to each • other, much like the alternate squares upon a chess board.' By this means, a most efficient power of combination for defence was obtainest against the enemy's cavalry. The first, attack of the French was made directly towards the right wing of our army, embracing the post of Hougoumont, with a view particularly to establish themselves on the road to Nivelles. After a series of the most desperate but unavailing efforts on the part of the French to carry this point, the rage of the battle was transferred towards the left and centre of the British line. .. The issue of this conflict was, that the French cavalry was complétely beaten off, and a great proportion of their attacking columns . of infantry, amounting to about 3000 men, threw down their arms, and were sent off to Brussels as prisoners. Their arrival there added to the terrors of that distracted city; for a vague rumour having preceded their march, announcing the arrival of a column of French, they were for a long time expected as conquerors, not as prisoners. Even when they entered as captives, the sight of the procession did not relieve the terrors of the citizens; the continued thunder of the cannon still announced that the battle was undecided, and the man. ner of the prisoners themselves was that of men who expected speedy freedom and vengeance. One officer of cuirassiers was particularly remarked for his fine martial appearance, and the smile of stern con. tempt with which he heard the shouts of the exulting populace. « 'The emperor,” he said, “the emperor will shortly be here ;' and the menace of his frowning brow and clenched hand indicated the fatal consequences which would attend his arrival.' pp. 156-157. · Again the contest was renewed with double ferocity in our right wing, the enemy's attack being commenced by successive columns of cavalry, "rolling after each other like waves of the

sea.' At length, a brigade of horse-artillery commanded by Major Norman Ramsay, having opened its fire upon their columns, they retreated repeatedly, but as often returned to the charge with unabated fury. . . As frequently as the cavalry retreated, our artillery-men rushing out of the squares in which they had found shelter, began again to work their pieces, and made a destructive fire on the retiring squadrons. Two officers of artillery were particularly noticed, who, being in a square which was repeatedly charged, rushed out of it the in. stant the cavalry retreated, loaded one of the deserted guns which stood near, and fired it upon the horsemen. A French officer observed that this manoeuvre was repeated more than once, and cost his troop many lives. At the next retreat of his squadron, he stationed himself by the gun, waving his sword, as if defying the British officers again to approach it. He was instantly shot by a grenadier, but prevented by his self-devotion a considerable loss to his countrymen. Other French officers and men evinced the same desperate and devoted zeal in the cause which they had so rashly and unhappily espoused. One officer of rank, after leading his men as far as they would follow him towards one of the squares of infantry, found himself deserted by them, when the British fire opened, and instantly rode upon the bayonets, throwing open his arms as if to welcome the bullet which should bring him down. He was immediately shot, for the moment admitted of no alternative. On our part, the coolness of the soldiers was so striking as almost to appear miraculous. Amid the infernal noise, hurry, and clamour of the bloodiest action ever fought, the officers were obeyed as if on the parade ; and such was the precision with which the men gave their fire, that the aid-de-camp could ride round each square with perfect safety, being sure that the discharge would be reserved till the precise moment when it ought regularly to be made.' pp. 159, 160.

The coolness, the personal bravery, the ubiquity of the Duke of Wellington, on whose single life the fate of the battle seemed to depend, are truly astonishing, and merit all the encomiums that can be bestowed; but nothing serves to give such interest to his character, as the anecdotes which bespeak him to bave felt, as well as acted, up to the occasion.

«« Believe me,” he afterwards said, “ that nothing, excepting a battle lost, can be half so melancholy as a battle won. The bravery of my troops has hitherto saved me from that greater evil; but, to win such a battle as this of Waterloo, at the expense of the lives of so many gallant friends, could only be termed a heavy misfortune, were it not for its results to the public benefit.”

At a moment when the French, though repulsed in every point, still continued their incessant attacks, with a perse. verance of which they were formerly deemed incapable,' and no Prussians had yet appeared to decide the contest,

• One general officer was under the necessity of stating, that his brigade was reduced to one-third of its numbers, that those who remained were exhausted with fatigue, and that a temporary relief, of however short duration, seemed a measure of peremptory necessity. “ Tell him," said the Duke, “ what he proposes is impossible. He, I, and every Englishman in the field, must die on the spot which we now occupy.” “ It is enough,” returned the general; “I and every man under my command are determined to share his fate.” A friend of ours had the courage to ask the Duke of Wellington, whether in that conjuncture he looked often to the woods from which the Prussians were expected to issue.--"No," was the answer; “ I looked oftener at my watch than at any thing else. I knew if my troops could keep their position till night, that I must be joined by Blucher before morning, and we would not have left Buonaparte an army next day. But,” continued he, “ I own I was glad as one hour of day-light slipped away after another, and our position was still maintained.” -“ And if," "continued the querist, “ by misfortune the position had been car. ried ?"_" We had the wood behind to retreat into."-" And if the wood also was forced?”-“ No, no; they could never have so beaten us but we could have made good the wood against them.” pp. 171-172.

The sun was near setting, before the forces of Blucher apa peared in strength issuing from the woods upon the flank of the contending armies. Napoleon's error consisted in his believing that they were followed by Grouchy, and either retreating, or

moving laterally in the same line with him ;' not, that the Prussians were his own forces under Grouchy. In this belief, he risked his final desperate effort. About seven o'clock, he determined to devote his reserve of 15,000 men of his own guard, as his last stake. As they defiled before him, he acquainted them. That the English cavalry and infantry were entirely de

stroyed, and that to carry their position, they had only to sustain with bravery a heavy fire of artillery.'

He concluded by pointing to the causeway, and exclaiming, • There, gentlemen, is the road to Brussels !" ?

The sequel needs not be recapitulated. The sum of forty thousand slain on both sides, before the retreat commenced, is represented as being considerably within the mark. 'And all,' said the Belgic peasants, 'for one man! Well, that one man is now hors de combat at any rate. Let us hope that no other man will ever again spring up, to cost us such a victory!

We shall not attempt to follow Cousin Paul through his subsequent epistolary narrations and observations. We were pleased, however, to meet at p. 225, with some free and just remarks on the modern system of arrondissements, and indemnification,-- A species of political legerdemain which transfers

cities and districts from one state to another, substituting «« natural boundaries," instead of the moral limits which have been drawn, by habits of faith and loyalty to a particular sovereign or form of government, by agreement in political and religious opinions, and by resemblance of language and manners. Our Author aptly compares it to the attempt of a charlatan to engraft upon the person of one patient the limb he had just amputated from another. He confesses that the chief misfortunes of Europe, may in great measure be traced to the partition of Poland : but he contends that the union between the Low Countries and the States of Holland, though opposed by the bigotry of the Flemish priesthood, was a highly desirable and truly politic measure; it being rather a restoration of the natural union which subsisted before the time of Philip the Second, than a new-morielled arrangement of territory.

The readers of “ Paris Revisited,” will be in possession of information collected subsequently to the date of Paul's Letters, with respect to the state of the capital : and with regard to the quality of the moral and political reflections, the Journalist generally discovers a deeper vein of thought, and a more ambitious style of philosophizing, than his name sake. The following passage merits, however, to be extracted.

- There are indeed fervent politicians, whom now and then of an evening we have heard breathe an ardent wish that Paris had been burnt to the ground. These are words soon spoken in the energy of patriotic hatred, or a desire of vengeance for outraged morality; but if we can picture to ourselves without shrinking those horrid scenes which ensue,

" Where the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart,
In liberty of bloody hand shall range,

With conscience wide as hell," we ought yet to remember upon how many thousands, such dreadful vengeance must have fallen, who can only be justly considered as common sufferers by the very acts of aggression of which Europe has such just reason to complain, and how many thousands more age and incapacity exempted even from the possibility of having been sharers in the offence. It is impossible to look around upon this splendid capital without remembering the affecting plea which the Deity himself condescended to use with his vindictive prophet : “ Should not I spare Nineveh, that great city, wherein are six score thousand persons that cannot discern between their right hand and their left, and also much cattle?” Least of all ought we to-wish that any part of the British forces had been partakers in the horrid license that must have followed on such a catastrophe, during which the restraints of discipline and the precepts of religion are alike forgotten in the headlong course of privileged fury. It was observed of the veteran army of T'illy, that the sack of Magdeburg gave a death blow to their discipline, and we know how the troops of France herself were ruined by that of Moscow. In every point of view, therefore, as well with regard to the agents as the sufferers, the averting the destruction of Paris, when it appeared almost inevitable, has added to the glories which the Duke of Wellington has acquired in this immortal campaign. For it is not to be denied, that to his wise and powerful interference was chiefly owing the timely arrangement of the articles of capitulation, in consequence of which the King of France again obtained possession of his capital, and the allied armies became the peaceful garrison of Paris.' pp. 354-356.

Paul's fifteenth letter is addressed," To the Reverend Mr. ! , Minister of the Gospel at - ,' and treats of the religious state of France. For the gratification, as we suppose, of his Presbyterian correspondent, he opens his letter with ridiculing the “ fidgetting ceremonies, the antiquated and tawdry vestments, and the eclipsed condition, of the (Roman) Catholic Church. (Our Author strangely omits to distinguish the pseudo-catholic church by its proper designation.)

• In a word, the old Dame of Babylon, against whom our fathers testified so loudly, seems now hardly worth a passing attack, even in the Nineteenthly of an afternoon's sermon, and is in some measure reduced to the pavé. Old John Bunyan himself could hardly have wished to see her stand lower in influence and estimation, than she does in the popular mind in France; and yet a few years, and the Giant Pope will be, in all probability, as innoxious as the Giant Pagan. Indeed, since his having shared the fate of other giants, in being transported, like a show, from place to place, by the renowned charlatan Buonaparte, his former subjects haye got familiar with his terrors, and excommunication scarcely strikes more horror than the fee fau fum of a nursery tale.' pp. 391–392.

We confess that, for our own parts, we more than question the propriety of treating a false religion with ridicule. There is à degree of profaneness, although, it is presumed, unintentional profaneness, in the very terms in which the symbolic representation of the Papal heresy in the Apocalypse, is alluded to. And when we call to mind the awful denunciations of Divine vengeance, upon that same spiritual usurpation, which our Author views as an object only of indifference or contempt, nothing will appear to be more misplaced than his flippant allusions to the sermons in which our fathers testified so loudly,' against the Church of Rome. Besides, there would seem to be a strange want of information, as well as of reflection, in Paul's representation of the matter of fact. At a time when the adherents to the Romish faith are decidedly increasing in number, in some counties of England, no less than throughout the sister kingdom, the Church of Rome can never be an object of indifference; nor so long as the only barriers presented to its dominion, in foreign countries, are infidelity and ignorance, have we any security that its enormous despotism shall not again become formidable. Superstition and practical atheism are, in the same mind, capable of so easy transmutation into each other, that the presence of fear is often found sufficient to change the character of the moral compound. The defier of his God so readily becomes the tool of man, in the attempt to arm himself against the secret warfare with Conscience, in the awful intervals of ber slumbers, that an irreligious population must always be contemplated as the easy prey of the emissaries of a false religion. It is impossible to contemplate the present state of the Continent, without distrust of the reviving prevalence of the Romish faith. The activity and zeal of the Popish clergy, many of whom sustain a truly respectable character, when viewed in contrast with the supineness and heretical principles of a large proportion of the nominal Protestant clergy, presents a cause for alarining apprehensions. In many places, the pious traveller would find by far the most congenial society, within the pale of the Church of Rome, although the better sort of her ministers aré, not less than the zealous clergy of more enlightened countries, subject to obloquy and persecution from their irreligious brethren. But almost universally he will find that both the Popish and the Protestant ministers on the Continent, hold in reality but different inodifications of infidelity. The

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