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lowing is literally his answer. You will tell to the proposal. But he at last tacitly consented the Emperor that I would not dare decide so im- to it. portant a question ; but he may consider it an “M. de Talleyrand was wholly bent on accelincontrovertible fact, that the government has erating this operation, which was said at the wholly lost the confidence of the people and the time to be intrusted to the English Admiral Sir army-that discontent has increased to the high- Sydney Smith, whose ostensible mission was to est pitch; and that it is impossible to conceive be the command of an expedition against the that the government can stand much longer Barbary States, in the Mediterranean. I only against such universal dislike. You will add learned this circumstance from what was publicly that the Emperor is the only object of the regret reported in Paris, where a variety of letters reand the hope of the nation. He, in his wisdom, ceived from London communicated details respectwill decide what he ought to do.'”.

ing the Congress, toward which all eyes were then Napoleon appeared deeply agitated. His far- turned. The English newspapers also reported reaching vision revealed to him the vastness of that the Emperor was to be removed to St. Helthe impending consequences. For a long time ena; and the report was repeated in the German he walked the floor, absorbed in intensity of papers, which the Emperor regularly received at thought, and then said,

Elba. No doubt was entertained that this opera“I will reflect upon it, Come here to-morrow tion would soon be carried into effect. at eleven o'clock."

“In the emergency, the Emperor formed the At the appointed hour Chaboulon presented plan of returning to France, as he had done on himself to the Emperor. After a long conversa- the former occasion. No alternative was left to tion, essentially the same with that which we him. He knew that it was intended to violate have recorded, Napoleon said,

| his asylum, in which he had no means of defend“I will set off. The enterprise is vast, it is ing himself, for any length of time, and where it difficult, it is dangerous. But it is not beyond was now even impossible for him to subsist withmy compassing. On great occasions fortune has out the allowance guaranteed but not paid to never abandoned me. I shall set off, but not him." . alone. I will not run the risk of allowing myself to be collared by the gendarmes. I will depart

THE NEWCOMES. * with my sword, my Polanders, my grenadiers. MEMOIRS OF A MOST RESPECTABLE FAMILY. All France is on my side. I belong to France.

BY W. M. THACKERAY. For her I will sacrifice my repose, my blood, my life, with the greatest joy. I have not settled the day of my departure. By deferring it, I should reap the advantage of allowing the Congress to terminate. But, on the other hand, I run the risk of being kept here a close prisoner by the vessels of the Bourbons and the English, if, as every thing appears to indicate, there should be a rupture between the Allies. Depart, and tell X— you have seen me, and I have determined to expose myself to every danger, for the sake of yielding to the prayers of France, and ridding the nation of the Bourbons. Say also, I shall leave here with my guard on the 1st of April, perhaps sooner."

The Duke of Rovigo writes in his memoirs : “ The main object of M. de Talleyrand's attention at Vienna was the abduction of the Emperor, whom he represented as a weight upon France, and as feeding the hopes of all restless minds. In this respect he was right. The subject of the Emperor engrossed the attention of all parties.

CHAPTER XXVII. The more consideration was bestowed upon the details of the events which had occasioned his

IN WHICH CLIVE GOES ABROAD. downfall, the greater was the interest felt for

ALTHOUGH Thomas Newcome was gone him. Talleyrand had present to his mind the 1 back to India in search of more money, findexample of the return from Egypt. He dreaded ing that he could not live upon his income at home, a second representation of that event. It had so he was nevertheless rather a wealthy man; and at often been asserted that the tranquillity of Europe the moment of his departure from Europe had two depended upon the repose of France, that it was lakhs of rupees invested in various Indian securieasy to perceive that the abduction of the Emperor ties.“ A thousand a year more," he thought,"adwas necessary to the general welfare. M. de ded to the interest accruing from my two lakhs Talleyrand, therefore, succeeded in securing the will enable us to live very comfortably at home. adoption of this course. The Emperor of Rus- I can give Clive ten thousand pounds when he sia alone showed any difficulty in assenting

Continued from the July Number.

marries, and five hundred a year out of my al- of easels, sketching-stools, umbrellas, and paintlowances. If he gets a wife with some money, ing-boxes, the most elaborate and beautiful that they may have every enjoyment of life; and as Messrs. Soap and Isaac could supply. It made for his pictures, he can paint just as few or as J. J.'s eyes glisten to see those lovely gimcracks many of those as he pleases." Newcome did of art; those smooth mill-boards, those slab-tintnot seem seriously to believe that his son would ed sketching-blocks, and glistening rows of colorlive by painting pictures, but considered Clive as tubes lying in their boxes, which seemed to cry, a young prince who chose to amuse himself with “Come, squeeze me." If painting-boxes made painting. The Muse of Painting is a lady whose painters; if sketching-stools would but enable one social station is not altogether recognized with to sketch, surely I would hasten this very instant us as yet. The polite world permits a gentleman to Messrs. Soap and Isaac! but, alas! these to amuse himself with her, but to take her for pretty toys no more make artists than cowls better or for worse! forsake all other chances make monks and cleave unto her! to assume her name! Many As a proof that Clive did intend to practice his a respectable person would be as much shocked profession, and to live by it too, at this time he at the notion, as if his son had married an opera took four sporting sketches to a print-seller in dancer.

the Haymarket, and disposed of them at the rate Newcome left a hundred a year in England, of seven shillings and sixpence per sketch. His of which the principal sum was to be transferred exultation at receiving a sovereign and half a to his boy as soon as he came of age. He en- sovereign from Mr. Jones was boundless. “I dowed Clive further with a considerable annual can do half a dozen of these things easily in a sum, which his London bankers would pay : morning,” says he. “Two guineas a day is * And if these are not enough," says he, kindly, twelve guineas-say ten guineas a week, for I "you must draw upon my agents, Messrs. Franks won't work on Sundays, and may take a holiday and Merryweather, at Calcutta, who will receive in the week besides. Ten guineas a week is five your signature just as if it was mine." Before hundred a year. That is pretty nearly as much going away, he introduced Clive to F. and M.'s money as I shall want, and I need not draw the corresponding London house, Jolly and Baines, dear old governor's allowance at all.” He wrote Fog Court-leading out of Leadenhall-Mr. Jol- an ardent letter, full of happiness and affection, ly, a myth as regarded the firm, now married to to the kind father, which he shall find a month Lady Julia Jolly—a park in Kent-evangelical after he has arrived in India, and read to his interest-great at Exeter Hall meetings-knew friends in Calcutta and Barrackpore. Clive inClive's grandmother, that is, Mrs. Newcome, a vited many of his artist friends to a grand feast most admirable woman. Baines represents a in honor of the thirty shillings. The King's house in the Regent's Park, with an emigrative Arms, Kensington, was the hotel selected (tavtendency toward Belgravia-musical daughters ern beloved of artists for many score years !).

-Herr Moscheles, Benedick, Ella, Osborne, con- Gandish was there, and the Gandishites and stantly at dinner-sonatas in P flat (op. 936), some chosen spirits from the Life Academy, composed and dedicated to Miss Euphemia Baines, Clipstone Street, and J. J. was vice-president, by her most obliged, most obedient servant, Fer- with Fred Bayham by his side, to make the dinando Blitz. Baines hopes that his young speeches and carve the mutton; and I promise friend will come constantly to York Terrace, you many a merry song was sung, and many a where the girls will be most happy to see him; health drunk in flowing bumpers ; and as jolly a and mentions at home a singular whim of Col-party was assembled as any London contained that onel Newcome's, who can give his son twelve or day. The beau monde had quitted it; the Park fifteen hundred a year, and makes an artist of was empty as we crossed it; and the leaves of him. Euphemia and Flora adore artists; they Kensington Gardens had begun to fall, dying feel quite interested about this young man. “He after the fatigues of a London season. We sang was scribbling caricatures all the time I was talk- all the way home through Knightsbridge and by ing with his father in my parlor," says Mr. Baines, the Park railings, and the Covent Garden carters and produces a sketch of an orange woman near halting at the Half-way House were astonished the Bank, who had struck Clive's eyes, and been at our choruses. There is no half-way house transferred to the blotting-paper in Fog Court. now; no merry chorus at midnight. He need'nt do any thing," said good-natured Then Clive and J. J. took the steamboat to Mr. Baines. “I guess all the pictures he'll paint Antwerp; and those who love pictures may imwon't sell for much."

agine how the two young men rejoiced in one of "Is he fond of music, papa?" asks Miss. “What the most picturesque cities of the world ; where a pity he had not come to our last evening; and they went back straightway into the sixteenth now the season is over!"

century; where the inn at which they staid (de“And Mr. Newcome is going out of town. lightful' old Grand Laboureur, thine ancient walls He came to me to-day for circular notes-says are leveled! thy comfortable hospitalities exist he's going through Switzerland and into Italy no more!) seemed such a hostelry as that where lives in Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square. Queer Quentin Durward first saw his sweetheart; where place, ain't it? Put his name down in your knights of Velasquez or burgomasters of Rubens book, and ask him to dinner next season." seemed to look from the windows of the tallBefore Clive went away, he had an apparatus gabled houses and the quaint porches; where

VOL. IX.-No. 51.-Z

the Bourse still stood, the Bourse of three hund-, of children, with Kuhn as supercargo; then Ethel red years ago, and you had but to supply figures on donkey back, too, with a bunch of wild flowers with beards and ruffs, and rapiers and trunk in her hand, a great straw hat with a crimson hose, to make the picture complete; where to be ribbon, a white muslin jacket you know, bound awakened by the carillon of the bells was to at the waist with a ribbon of the first, and a dark waken to the most delightful sense of life and skirt, with a shawl round her feet, which Kuhn bappiness; where nuns, actual nuns, walked the had arranged. As she stopped, the donkey fell streets, and every figure in the Place de Meir, to cropping greens in the hedge; the trees there and every devotee at church kneeling and draped checkered her white dress and face with shadow. in black, on entering the confessional (actually Her eyes, hair, and forehead were in shadow too the confessional!), was a delightful subject for —but the light was all upon her right cheek, the new sketch-book. Had Clive drawn as much | upon her shoulder down to her arm, which was every where as at Antwerp, Messrs. Soap and of a warmer white, and on the bunch of flowers Isaac might have made a little income by supply- which she held, blue, yellow, and red poppies, and ing him with materials.

so forth. After Antwerp, Clive's correspondent gets a “ J. J. says, 'I think the birds began to sing letter dated from the Hotel de Suède at Brussels, I louder when she came.' We have both agreed which contains an elaborate eulogy of the cookery that she is the handsomest woman in England. and comfort of that hotel, where the wines, ac- It's not her form merely, which is certainly as cording to the writer's opinion, are unmatched yet too thin and a little angular-it is her color. almost in Europe. And this is followed by a | I do not care for woman or picture without color. description of Waterloo, and a sketch of Hou. O ye carnations! O ye lilia mista rosis! O such goumont, in which J. J. is represented running black hair and solemn eyebrows! It seems to away in the character of a French grenadier, Clive me the roses and carnations have bloomed again pursuing him in the life-guard's habit, and mount- since we saw them last in London; when they ed on a thundering charger.

were drooping from the exposure to night air, Next follows a letter from Bonn. Verses candle light, and heated ball rooms. about Drachenfels, of a not very superior style of “Here I was in the midst of a regiment of versification : account of Crichton, an old Grey donkeys, bearing a crowd of relations; J. J. standFriars man, who has become a student at the ing modestly in the background-beggars comuniversity; of a commerz, a drunken bout; and a pleting the group, and Kuhn ruling over them students' duel at Bonn. “And whom should I with voice and gesture, oaths, and whip. Throw find here," says Mr. Clive, “but Aunt Ann, in the Rhine in the distance flashing by the Seven Ethel, Miss Quigley, and the little ones, the Mountains but mind and make Ethel the prinwhole detachment under the command of Kuhn. cipal figure ; if you make her like, she certainly Uncle Brian is staying at Aix. He is recover- will be—and other lights will be only minor fires. ed from his attack. And upon my conscience, You may paint her form, but you can't paint her I think my pretty cousin looks prettier every color; that is what beats us in nature. A line day.

must come right; you can force that into its “When they are not in London," Clive goes place, but you can't compel the circumambient on to write, or I sometimes think when Barnes air. There is no yellow I know of will make or old Lady Kew are not looking over them, they sunshine; and no blue that is a bit like sky. are quite different. You know how cold they And so with pictures: I think you only get signs have latterly seemed to us, and how their con- of color, and formulas to stand for it. That brickduct annoyed my dear old father. Nothing can dust which we agree to receive as representing a be kinder than their behavior since we have met. blush, look at it-can you say it is in the least like It was on the little hill at Godsberg, J. J. and I the blush which flickers and varies as it sweeps were mounting to the ruin, followed by the beg- over the down of the cheek, as you see sunshine gars who waylay you, and have taken the place playing over a meadow? Look into it, and see of the other robbers who used to live there, when what a variety of delicate blooms there are ! a there came a procession of donkeys down the multitude of flowerets twining into one tint! We steep, and I heard a little voice cry · Hullo! it's may break our color pots, and strive after the Clive! hooray, Clive!' and an ass came pattering line alone: that is palpable, and we can grasp it down the declivity, with a little pair of white |—the other is impossible and beyond us." Which trowsers at an immensely wide angle over the sentiment I here set down, not on account of its donkey's back, and behold there was little Alfred worth (and I think it is contradicted—as well as grinning with all his might.

asserted—in more than one of the letters I sub"He turned his beast and was for galloping sequently had from Mr. Clive), but it may serve up the hill again, I suppose to inform his rela- to show the ardent and impulsive disposition of tions ; but the donkey refused with many kicks, this youth, by whom all beauties of art and naone of which sent Alfred plunging among the ture, animate or inanimate (the former especially), stones, and we were rubbing him down just as were welcomed with a gusto and delight whereof the rest of the party came upon us. Miss Quig- colder temperaments are incapable. The view ley looked very grim on an old white pony; my of a fine landscape, a fine picture, a handsome aunt was on a black horse that might have turned woman, would make this harmless young sensugray, he is so old. Then come two donkeysful alist tipsy with pleasure. He seemed to derive

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an actual hilarity and intoxication as his eye | he, Clive, might marry out of hand; and to make drank in these sights; and, though it was his me a thousand simple protests of affection and maxim that all dinners were good, and he could admiration, which are noted here as signs of the eat bread and cheese and drink small beer with young man's character, by no means as proofs perfect good humor, I believe that he found a of the goodness of mine. The books given to certain pleasure in a bottle of claret, which most the present biographer by his affectionate friend, men's systems were incapable of feeling. Clive Newcome, still bear on the title-pages the

This spring-time of youth is the season of let-marks of that boyish hand and youthful fervor. ter-writing. A lad in high health and spirits, He had a copy of “Walter Lorraine," bound and the blood running briskly in his young veins, and gilt with such splendor as made the author blush the world, and life, and nature bright and wel- for his performance, which has since been seen come to him, looks out, perforce, for some com- at the book-stalls at a price suited to the very panion to whom he may impart his sense of the humblest purses. He fired up and fought a newspleasure which he enjoys, and which were not paper critic (whom Clive met at the Haunt one complete unless a friend were by to share it. I night) who had dared to write an article in which was the person most convenient for the young that work was slighted; and if, in the course of fellow's purpose; he was pleased to confer upon nature, his friendship has outlived that rapturous me the title of friend en titre, and confidant in period ; the kindness of the two old friends, I particular; to endow the confidant in question | hope, is not the less because it is no longer rowith a number of virtues and excellences which mantic, and the days of white vellum and gilt existed very likely only in the lad's imagination; edges have passed away. From the abundance to lament that the confidant had no sister whom of the letters which the affectionate young fellow

now wrote, the ensuing portion of his youthful few sights are more pleasant than to watch a history is compiled. It may serve to recall pas- happy manly English youth, free-handed and gensages of their early days to such of his seniors as erous-hearted, content and good humor shining occasionally turn over the leaves of a novel; and in his honest face, pleased and pleasing, eager, in the story of his faults, indiscretions, passions, active, and thankful for services, and exercising and actions, young readers may be reminded of bravely his noble youthful privilege to be happy their own.

and to enjoy. Sing, cheery spirit, while the Now that the old Countess, and perhaps Barnes, spring lasts ; bloom while the sun shines, kindly were away, the barrier between Clive and this flowers of youth! You shall be none the worse family seemed to be withdrawn. The young folks, to-morrow for having been happy to-day, if the who loved him, were free to see him as often as day brings no action to shame it. As for J. J., he would come. They were going to Baden : he too had his share of enjoyment; the charming would he come too? Baden was on the road to scenes around him did not escape bis bright eye, Switzerland: he might journey to Strasbourg, he absorbed pleasure in his silent way, he was up Basle, and so on. Clive was glad enough to go with the sunrise always, and at work with his with his cousins, and travel in the orbit of such eyes and his heart if not with his hands. A a lovely girl as Ethel Newcome. J. J. performed beautiful object too is such a one to contemplate, the second part always when Clive was present: a pure virgin soul, a creature gentle, pious, and and so they all traveled to Coblentz, Mayence, full of love, endowed with sweet gifts, humble and and Frankfort together, making the journey which timid, but for truth's and justice's sake inflexible, every body knows, and sketching the mountains thankful to God and man, fond, patient, and and castles we all of us have sketched. Ethel's faithful. Clive was still his hero as ever, his beauty made all the passengers on all the steam- patron, his splendid young prince and chieftain. ers look round and admire. Clive was proud of Who was so brave, who was so handsome, genbeing in the suite of such a lovely person. The erous, witty as Clive? To hear Clive sing as the family traveled with a pair of those carriages, lad would while they were seated at their work, which used to thunder along the continental roads or driving along on this happy journey, through a dozen years since, and from interior, box, and fair landscapes in the sunshine, gave J. J. the rumble discharge a dozen English people at hotel keenest pleasure: his wit was a little slow, but gates.

he would laugh with his eyes at Clive's sallies, The journey is all sunshine and pleasure and or ponder over them and explode with laughter novelty: the circular notes with which Mr. Baines | presently, giving a new source of amusement to of Fog Court has supplied Clive Newcome, Es these merry travelers, and little Alfred would quire, enabled that young gentleman to travel laugh at J. J.'s laughing: and so, with a hundred with great ease and comfort. He has not yet harmless jokes to enliven, and the ever changing, ventured upon engaging a valet-de-chambre, it ever charming smiles of nature to cheer and acbeing agreed between him and J. J. that two company it, the happy day's journey would come traveling artists have no right to such an aristo to an end. cratic appendage, but he has bought a snug little So they traveled by the accustomed route to britska at Frankfort (the youth has very polite the prettiest town of all places where Pleasure tastes, is already a connoisseur in wine, and has has set up her tents; and where the gay, the no scruple in ordering the best at the hotels), and melancholy, the idle or occupied, grave or naughty, the britska travels in company with Lady Ann's come for amusement, or business, or relaxation; caravan, either in its wake, so as to be out of where London beauties, having danced and flirled reach of the dust, or more frequently ahead of all the season, may dance and flirt a little more : that enormous vehicle, and its tender, in which where well-dressed rogues from all quarters of come the children and the governess of Lady the world assemble ; where I have seen severe Ann Newcome, guarded by a huge and melan- London lawyers, forgetting their wigs and the choly London footman, who beholds Rhine and Temple, trying their luck against fortune and M. Neckar, valley and mountain, village and ruin, Bénazet; where wistful schemers conspire and with a like dismal composure. Little Alfred and prick cards down, and deeply meditate the infallittle Egbert are by no means sorry to escape lible coup; and try it, and lose it, and borrow a from Miss Quigley and the tender, and ride for a hundred francs to go home ; where even virtuous stage or two in Clive's britska. The little girls British ladies venture their little stakes, and draw cry sometimes to be admitted to that privilege. I up their winnings with trembling rakes, by the dare say Ethel would like very well to quit her side of ladies who are not virtuous at all, no not place in the caravan, where she sits circumvented even by name; where young prodigals break the by Mamma's dogs, and books, bags, dressing. bank sometimes, and carry plunder out of a place boxes, and gimcrack cases, without which appara- which Hercules himself could scarcely compel; tus some English ladies of condition can not where you meet wonderful countesses and printravel; but Miss Ethel is grown up, she is out, cesses, whose husbands are almost always absent and has been presented at Court, and is a person on their vast estates—in Italy, Spain, Piedmont of too great dignity now to sit any where but in —who knows where their lordships' possessions the place of state in the chariot corner. I like to are?—while trains of suitors surround those wanthink for my part of the gallant young fellow dering Penelopes, their noble wives; Russian taking his pleasure and enjoying his holiday, and Boyars, Spanish Grandees of the Order of the

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