ounce was agreed upon, but he demanded a deposit of 4000 crowns. Bassompierre put him off to the next morning, and in the mean time, went to sup at the Duke of Epernon's hotel. He there won at play 5000 crowns, which enabled him to satisfy the merchant; and pursuing his good fortune, he not only cleared the cost of his dress, but purchased, besides, a diamond. hilted sword of 5000 crowns value, and had 6000 crowns more left in his pocket.

Bassompierre was, however, regarded as a man of honour, and seems to have been generally beloved; whence his imprisonment was lamented, and looked upon as an act of tyranny. His account of it presents a curious view of the subjection under which Louis XIII. was held by his arbitrary minister Richelieu, as well as of the complete despotism to which France was then reduced, and which, indeed, late experience seems to prove to be the only kind of government suited to that nation.

He was then a marshal of France, and high in reputation both as a soldier and a negociator. He had long been an object of suspicion to Cardinal Richelieu, as being attached to the party of the Queen-mother; and various circumstances had occurred which led his friends to portend that he would not long remain at liberty. The old Duke of Epernon had earnestly pressed him to accept of a sum of money, and make his escape out of the kingdom; which Bassompierre refused to do, trusting, he says, to his innocence, and thinking it dishonourable to shrink from any charge that might be made against him. He became convinced, however, of his danger, and made due preparations to meet it. The first of these was characteristic:

"On Feb. 24, 1631, (says he), I rose before day, and burnt more than six thousand love-letters, which I had formerly received from different women, apprehending lest, if I were committed to prison and my house searched, something might be found to the prejudice of some persons, these being the only papers that could be injurious to any one. I then sent word to the Count of Grammont that I was going to meet the King at Senlis, whither, if he chose, I would carry him. He willingly accepted the offer, and we drove in my coach to the Louvre, where we found Monsieur le Comte and the Cardinals de la Valette and de Bouillon, who were preparing to go to Senlis. The latter took me apart, and said, I am certainly informed that you are to be arrested; and if you will take my advice, you will retire. Here are two fleet horses which will carry you ten leagues hence. I answered, that having nothing upon my conscience, I feared nothing, and that I would have the honour to accompany him to Senlis. We arrived there soon after, and found the King and Queen together, with the Princess of Gaimene. He came to us, and conversed with me

a

a considerable time, telling me he had done all in his power to effect an accommodation between the Queen his mother and the Cardinal, but had not been able to gain any thing. I then said that I had been informed his Majesty had a design of arresting me, that I was therefore come to prevent the trouble of sending to find me, and that if I knew where I was to be confined, I would go thither of my own accord. He replied in these words: What, Betstein! (his family name) can you think I would do such a thing? you well know that I love you :'—and I fully believe that at that time he spoke as he felt. He was then told that the Cardinal was in his chamber, and immediately took leave of the company, ordering me the next morning early to march the corps that was on guard to Paris, and gave me the word.

6

"We remained some time with the Queen, and then all went to sup with M. de Longueville, whence we returned to the Queen's apartment, whither the King came after supper. I could perceive that something had been said to my prejudice; for the King constantly held down his head, playing on the guitar without looking at me, and during the whole evening he never spoke a word to me. On February 25, I rose at six in the morning, and as I was standing before the fire in my night-gown, the Sieur de Launay, lieutenant of the life-guards, entered my chamber, and said, Sir, it is with tears in my eyes, and a bleeding heart, that I, who have been for twenty years your soldier, and have always served under you, am obliged to tell you, that the King has commanded me to arrest you.' I felt no emotion at this address, and replied, Sir, you will have little trouble, since I came on purpose, being apprised of the intention. I have all my life been obedient to the will of the King, who may dispose of my person and liberty at his pleasure. I then asked him if he chose that my people should withdraw: he said, No; and that he had nothing in charge but to arrest me, and then to send and acquaint the King. M. de Grammont, who was my fellow-lodger, then rose from his bed, and came to me in tears; at which I laughed, telling him that he was more afflicted at my imprisonment than myself: which was true, for I thought it would not long continue. Launay would not permit any of his guards to enter my chamber; and soon after, there arrived before the house one of the King's coaches, with his musqueteers on horseback, and thirty of his light-horse."

In conclusion, Bassompierre was taken to the Bastille, where, contrary to his expectation and to repeated hopes given him of a release, he was confined as long as the Cardinal lived, without any charge against him, or examination. Such is the omnipotence

VOL. I. NO, II.

T

of

of a minister under a weak prince, and so is it exercised by jea lousy and resentment!

ART. III.-Remarks on Hume's History of England.

Ir is not the purpose of the following paper to enter fully into the merits and demerits of the most popular historical work in our language. The character of Hume's style has been often and ably discussed; what is much more important, his errors, his party prejudices, his misrepresentations wilful or accidental, have been exposed and corrected, directly by the late Dr. Towers, in an express treatise, and indirectly by such later authors as have treated on the same events. The reader of Mr. Turner's accurate and elaborate History of the Anglo-Saxons, will sufficiently de spise the proud ignorance in which the philosophical historian has hurried over our period of barbarism. The researches of

Mr. Laing, by drawing into fuller light the obscure miseries of Scotland during the tyrannous and persecuting administration of Lauderdale, will more clearly erince the inadequacy of Hume's admissions respecting the misgovernment of Charles II.: from Macdiarmid's Lives of British Statesmen, and still more from the admirable historic fragment bequeathed to us by Mr. Fox, further proofs may be derived of his artful misrepresentation on the side of prerogative. In addition to all this, however, something is left to be done; several of his sophisms remain unrefuted, a number of his inconsistencies undetected, and most of his immoralities unbranded. Yet the fame, the merit, and the popularity of the author, require that nothing of this kind should in him pass unnoticed; and it is the object of this paper in part to supply the deficiency.

I.

A bias acting upon the mind of the historian in favour of the crown and against the aristocracy, may be perceived during the whole period of contest or jealousy between the king and the barons; that is, akmost from the Conquest to the accession of the Tudors; and his attachment to what he regards as the right of succession, is equally observable. After relating by what steps Henry L. possessed himself of the crown, to the exclusion of his elder brother Robert, "No one," says he, "had sufficient spirit or sense of duty to appear in defence of the absent prince: all men were seduced or intimidated: present possession supplied the ap parent defects in Henry's title, which was indeed founded on

plain usurpation: And the barons, as well as the people, acquiesced in a claim which, though it could neither be justified nor comprehended, could now, they found, be opposed through the perils alone of civil war and rebellion." After mentioning that Henry, to obtain present popularity, had granted charters, not one article of which he ever afterwards observed, he adds, “ A people so insensible to the rights of their sovereign, as to disjoint, without necessity, the succession, and permit a younger brother to intrude himself into the place of the elder, whom they esteemed, and who was guilty of no crime but being absent, could not expect that that prince would pay any greater regard to their privileges, or allow his engagements to fetter his power, and debar him from any considerable interest or convenience." However heinous this disregard of the barons "to the rights of their sovereign" had been, it is surely strange doctrine that he in whose favour they had been guilty of it could therefore not be expected to observe his actual engagements with them; but another thing is to be remarked. The person who had set the example of "disjointing the succession," was no other than the Conqueror himself, who bequeathed England to his second son Rufus, to the exclusion of this same Robert, to whom he left only the Duke. dom of Normandy. In fact, the rules of succession had not yet been fixed in Europe; if they had, William the Bastard could have had at least no duchy to bequeath, and the barons are unjustly charged with violating a law which had then no existence.

Henry III. having justly forfeited, by his tyranny and want of good faith, the confidence and attachment of all orders of men, had been compelled to bind himself by oath to observe the provisions of Oxford, by which an extensive power was confided to twenty-four barons, for the reformation of the state. By the misconduct and dissentions of these, a favourable opportunity was some time after afforded to Henry of recovering by force of arms his lost authority. "Yet durst he not take that step," says Hume, 66 so reconcileable both to justice and policy, without making a previous application to Rome, and desiring an absolution from his oaths and engagements." The pope's absolution was soon obtained for the king and all his subjects; "but Prince Edward," he adds, "whose liberal mind, though in such early youth, had taught him the great prejudice which his father had incurred, by his levity, inconstancy, and frequent breach of promise, refused for a long time to take advantage of this absolution; and declared that the provisions of Oxford, how unreasonable soever in themselves, and how much soever abused by the barons, ought still to be adhered to by those who had sworn to observe them. He himself had been constrained by violence to

take that oath; yot was he determined to keep it. By this scru pulous fidelity, the prince acquired the confidence of all parties, was afterwards enabled to recover fully the royal authority, and to perform such great actions, both during his own reign and that of his father." What respect can be due to the maxims of a writer whose partial attachment to the cause of kings, leads him to pronounce that conduct "just and politic" in the father, the very reverse of which in the son, laid the foundation of all his after greatness and reputation? Exactly of a piece with this, is the gloss which he has endeavoured to put upon the miserably mean character of James I. in the following passage:-"The king, before his accession, had entertained scruples with regard to the revolt of the Low Countries; and being commonly open and sin cere, he had, on many occasions, gone so far as to give to the Dutch the appellation of rebels: But having conversed more fully with English ministers and courtiers, he found their attachment to that republic so strong, and their opinion of common interest so established, that he was obliged to sacrifice to politics his sense of justice; a quality which, even when erroneous, is respectable as well as rare in a monarch." A sense of justice so feeble as to be always made to yield to what are called reasons of state, cannot surely be rare, even among monarchs, nor can so unavailing a sentiment be the object of respect. In this case, however, James had the merit of sacrificing a much stronger feeling-that sentiment of hatred against revolted subjects, founded on an opinion of indefeasible right, which in monarchs is the esprit du corps, and to which Hume himself afterwards ascribes the reluctance of James to assist the Elector Palatine in possessing himself of the crown of Bohemia. "Je suis royaliste par metier," said Frederic of Prussia ingenuously.

In public or in private matters, for the rule of right is the same in both, nothing can be so dangerous, so immoral, as the admission that there are certain cases of necessity which justify deviations from the acknowledged rules of equity, good faith, or humanity. In fact, as there is always some alternative, for a man in no case can be actually compelled to commit any criminal action, this plea of necessity is nothing but an assertion, in other words, that in order to obtain some great advantage, or ward off some imminent danger, it is allowable for a man to do what is morally wrong; that is, that when he is strongly tempted, he may yield to temptation! With respect to kings, this is the or dinary maxim of the author we are examining. For instance, "This cruel execution," the murder of the Duke of Guise and his brother by Henry III. of France in his own palace," which the necessity of it alone could excuse," &c. "When Strafford was called over to England, he found every thing falling into

such