the Government journals have stigmatised, as "highly dangerous," any indication of sympathy with their fidelity or their misfortunes.*

If these ancient ideas of honour, however, are to be exploded, they have at least gone out of fashion in good company. The National Guard who took up arms to overthrow the throne, have not been long of destroying the altar. During the revolt of February 1831, the Cross, the emblem of salvation, was taken down from all the steeples in Paris by the citizen soldiers, and the image of our Saviour effaced, by their orders, from every church within its bounds! The two principles stand and fall together. The Chevalier "without fear and without reproach" died in obedience to his oath, with his eyes fixed on the Cross; the National Guard lived in triumph, while their comrades bore down the venerated emblem from the towers of Notre Dame.

"I can discover no other reason for the uniform progress of the Republic," says Cicero, "but the constant sense of religion which has actuated its members. In numbers the Spaniards excel us-in military ardour, the Gauls-in hardihood and obstinacy, the Germans; but in veneration to the gods, and fidelity to their oaths, the Roman people exceed any nation that ever existed." We shall see whether the present times are destined to form an exception to these views; whether treason and infidelity are to tear the fabric in modern times, which fidelity and religion constructed in ancient. The extreme peril of such principles renders the inquiry interesting,-What have been the effects of military treachery in times past? Has it aided the cause of virtue, strengthened the supports of freedom, contributed to the prosperity of mankind? Or has it unhinged the fabric of society, blasted the cause of liberty, blighted the happiness of the people?

The first great instance of military treachery occurred in the revolt of the French Guards in June 1789. That unparalleled event immediately brought on the Revolution. The fatal example rapidly spread to the other forces brought up to overawe the capital; and the King, deprived of the support of his own troops, was soon compelled to

* Courier.

submit to the insurgents. It was these soldiers, not the mob of Paris, who stormed the Bastille all the efforts of the populace were unavailing, till the regular soldiers occupied the adjoining houses, and supported tumultuary enthusiasm by military skill.

Extravagant were the eulogiums, boundless the gratitude, great the rewards, which were showered down on the Gardes Françaises for this shameful act of treachery. Never were men the subjects of such extraordinary adulation. Wine and women, gambling and intoxication, flattery and bribes, were furnished in abundance. And what was the consequence? The ancient honour of the Guards of France, of those Guards who fought so nobly at Fontenoy, and inherited a line of centuries of splendour, perished without redemption on that fatal occasion. Tarnished in reputation, disunited in opinion, humbled in character, the regiment fell to pieces from a sense of its own shame; the early leader of the Revolution, its exploits never were heard of through all the career of glory which followed; and the first act of its revolt against the sovereign was the last of its long and renowned exist

ence.

Nor were the consequences of this unexampled defection less dangerous to France than to the soldiers who were guilty of it. The insubordination, license, and extravagance of revolt were fatal to military discipline, and brought France to the brink of ruin. The disaffected soldiers, as has been observed in all ages, were intrepid only against their own sovereign. When they were brought to meet the armies of Prussia and Austria, they all took to flight; and on one occasion, by the admission of Dumourier himself, 10,000 regular soldiers fled from 1500 Prussian hussars. A little more energy and ability in the Allied commanders would have then destroyed the Revolutionary Government. Notwithstanding all the enthusiasm of the people, the weakness of insubordination continued to paralyse all the efforts of the Republican armies. France was again invaded, and brought to the brink of ruin in 1793; and the tide was then, for the first time, turned, when the iron rule of the mob began, and the terrific grasp of Carnot and Robespierre extinguished all those principles of military license which

had so much been the subject of eulogium at the commencement of the Revolution.

Did this abandonment of military duty serve the cause of freedom, or increase the prosperity of France? Did it establish liberty on a secure basis, or call down the blessings of posterity? It led immediately to all the anguish and suffering of the Revolution-the murder of the King— the anarchy of the kingdom-the Reign of Terror-the despotism of Napoleon. The military forgot their loyalty amidst the glitter of prostitution and the fumes of intoxication; their successors were brought back to it by the iron rule of the Committee of Public Safety: they revolted against the beneficent sway of a reforming monarch; they brought on their country a tyranny, which the pencil of Tacitus would hardly be adequate to portray.

The revolt of the Spanish troops at the Isle of Leon, in 1819, was the next great example of military defection. What have been its consequences? Has Spain improved in freedom-risen in character-augmented in wealth, since that glorious insurrection? It raised up, for a few years, the phantom of a constitutional throne, ephemeral as the dynasties of the East, pestilent as the breath of contagion. Spain was rapidly subjugated when it rested on such defenders-treason blasted their efforts and the nation, which had gloriously resisted for six years the formidable legions of Napoleon, sank under the first attack of an inexperienced army of invaders led by a Bourbon prince. Since that time, to what a deplorable condition has Spain been reduced! Depressed by domestic tyranny, destitute of foreign influence the ridicule and scorn of Europe—this once great power has almost been blotted from the book of nations.

Portugal, Naples, and Piedmont, all had military Revolutions about the same time. IIave they improved the character, bettered the condition, extended the freedom, of these countries? They have, on the contrary, established constitutions, whose failure and absurdity have brought the cause of freedom itself into disrepute. The valiant revolters against the Neapolitan throne fled at the first sight of the Austrian battalions; and the free institutions of Piedmont and Portugal, without foreign aggression, have all fallen

from their own inherent weakness. All these premature attempts to introduce freedom by military revolt, have failed; and sterner despotism has succeeded, from the moral reaction consequent on the failure.

Great part of the armies in South America revolted from the Spanish throne, and success has crowned their endeavours. What has been the consequence? Anarchy, confusion, and military confiscation-the rule of bayonets instead of that of mitres-suffering, dilapidation, and ruin, which have caused even the leaden yoke of the Castilian monarch to be regretted.

At length the glorious days of July arrived, and the declaration of the whole regular troops of the line in Paris against the Government at once decided the contest in favour of the populace. Never was more extravagant praise bestowed on any body of men, than on the soldiers who had been guilty of this act of treason. It is worth while, therefore, to examine what have been its effects, and whether the cause of freedom has really been benefited in France by the aid of treachery.

The French nation has got quit of a priest-ridden imbecile race of monarchs; men whose principles were arbitrary, their habits indolent, their intellects weak; who possessed the inclination, but wanted the capacity, to restrain the liberty of their people. The revolt has terminated a pacific era, during which the country made unexampled progress in wealth, industry, and prosperity; during which many of the wounds of the Revolution were closed, and new channels of opulence opened; during which the principles of real freedom struck deep their roots, and the industrious habits were extensively spread, which alone can afford security for their continuance.

They have begun, instead, the career of anarchy and popular tyranny. Industry has been paralysed, credit suspended, prosperity blighted. Commercial undertakings have ceased, distrust has succeeded to confidence-despair to hope the victims of the Revolution have disappeared, and the poor who gained it are destitute of bread. They have begun again the career of Republican ambition and foreign aggression; they aim openly at revolutionising other countries, and they are unable to maintain the government they

have established in their own. The conscription is again. rending asunder the affections of private life; the fountains of domestic happiness are closed; and the hope of war, with its excitements and its dangers, is again rousing the energies of its population. In the shock of contending factions, liberty is fast expiring. The imbecility of Polignac has been succeeded by the energy of Soult-the arbitrary principles of feeble priests is about to yield to the unbending despotism of energetic Republicans.

By the confession of the journals who support the Revolution, its advantages are all to come; bitter and unpalatable have been its fruits to this hour. The three-per-cents have fallen from 80 to 50; 12,000 workmen, without bread, are maintained on the public works; great part of the banks and mercantile houses are bankrupt; Lafitte himself is barely solvent; the opulent classes are rapidly leaving the capital; no one expends his fortune; universal distrust and apprehension have dried up the sources of industry.

The Government, blown about with every wind of doctrine, is wholly unable to prevent the downward progress of the Revolution. As usual in public convulsions, the audacious, the reckless, the desperate, are pressing forward to the front ranks, and the moderate and rational sinking into obscurity. The Doctrinaires were subverted by the tumults in October; their successors by the crisis in December; the last Ministers, by the explosion in February. Without authority, power, or influence, the throne is rapidly falling into contempt; the known prudence and firm character of the King are unable to stem the swelling flood of democracy.

Should it be impelled by revolutionary ambition into foreign war, the Government of France, whether republican or monarchical, must inevitably become despotic. If the Allies succeed, the Bourbons will be restored at the point of the bayonet. If the republicans are victorious, military despotism will speedily be established. The victorious legions will not surrender the authority they have won. A second successful commander will, under the name of Consul, Dictator, or Emperor, re-establish the empire of the sword. After drenching Europe with blood, democratic ambition will find itself mastered by the power it has produced; victorious or vanquished, it will prove fatal to its parent