of the looking-glass. Very recently, the smaller room on the left has been attacked, and within a few years will, without a doubt, be equally attractive and valuable.

among

The reader now comprehends the well-deserved reputation of Barbizon, which would assuredly have long ago become a stock place for excursions the Parisians, were it not so distant from the capital, and at the same time so sequestered in the large forest. But we have no cause to complain of this. On the contrary, Mère Martin's house would at once lose a great portion of its charm were it situated at St. Cloud or in the Bois de Boulogne. I make this remark because really magnificent offers have been made to the old lady to buy her hotel with its contents. Parisian speculators wanted to pull it down and erect it again either in Paris or the immediate vicinity, of course precisely as it now stands in the forest. The worthy old lady, either through respect for her family, or a preference for her simple still life, has hitherto declined all such offers; but what the daughter may do after her death is different. Nor has the stereotyped Englishman been wanting, who also wished to buy the house, and, the best of the joke, mother and daughter in the bargain, transport the whole lot across the Channel, and re-erect it in his park as a curiosity. It is even seriously asserted that a similar offer emanated from the directors of the Crystal Palace,—which may be possible.

Jeannette, whose portrait may be noticed only too frequently in the guest-room, has not married up to the present, as I mentioned: whether it is true, as is whispered, that an unfortunate attachment caused the poor girl to make this hard resolve, I cannot positively avouch. My friend Richards at once set about composing a small romance: A young artist belonging to a noble family (with the well known Jewish motto, "An artist, but does not live by it"), who came to Barbizon for the purpose of studying nature, but looked too deeply into the dark eyes of the landlord's daughter, and finally made another marriage in accordance with the wishes of his family; and so on.

It is possible that the inn of Barbizon may become ere long a thing of the past, for Mère Martin may not be able to resist the tempting offers which will continue to be made. I therefore advise all those of my readers who intend visiting Paris during the autumn, to take advantage of the opportunity and make the run to Fontainebleau, which, they may believe me, will cause them the most unfeigned delight.

MEMOIRS OF A DIPLOMATIST.

On February 17, 1853, there died at Innsbrück, in his eightieth year, a statesman who had in former times caused offence in the sober capital of Saxony by his ostentation and luxury. Left alone in the world, he had retired to a quiet asylum, to rest after the exciting movements of a very changeable diplomatic career. From 1806 to 1809 Saxon envoy in Paris, and from the latter date up to 1813 minister of foreign affairs at Dresden, he eventually entered the service of Austria, effected the liberation of Switzerland, and afterwards held the post of envoy at the Hague, Turin, and Munich. When reporting his death, the Allgemeine Zeitung added: "He leaves interesting memoirs behind him." Now, at the expiration of eleven years, these memoirs have been published. They comprise the seven years from 1806 to 1813, and have the great advantage of having been recorded in 1814, or immediately after the conclusion of that period. Count Senfft was living at that time in Constanz, and the quiet of the little town benefited him, when he recalled the men and events of the last ten years. In his Memoirs there is a peculiar freshness; we trace in them the emotions which the author felt as a fellow-actor, and their mode of observation is that of the period between 1806 and 1813.

The first page introduces to us the count appointed Saxon envoy in Paris. He was at that time, in February, 1806, two-and-thirty years of age, had travelled in Italy and Denmark, had formerly done diplomatic service at Ratisbonn and Rastadt, and commended himself for the great Parisian post through family connexions, knowledge, practice in the management of business, and a fortune acquired by marriage. He received the same instructions as were given to all Saxon envoys: neutrality in everything which did not affect specifically Saxon interests. The political constellation of the time requires no long explanation. Napoleon had determined on the punishment of Prussia, who had just accepted Hanover at his hands. In order to isolate his victim, he spared Austria and accelerated the formation of the Rhenish Confederation. Lucchesini, the Prussian envoy, did not learn a syllable about this or about the French negotiations with Lord Lauderdale for the restoration of Hanover to George III. General Vincent, the Austrian ambassador, was informed by Napoleon of everything, and was able to warn Count Senfft: Saxony must be on its guard and avoid being dragged down the abyss with Prussia: if the Elector declared his neutrality and forced the adjoining small states to attach themselves to his system, France would recognise such political conduct. On the same day as Senfft received this warning, he reported his entire conversation with Count Vincent to Dresden in a cyphered despatch. It did not receive the slightest attention at court. People were as blinded there as in Berlin, and equally believed that negotiations, if supported by a menacing position, would conquer the menacing storm.

In September the Emperor left Paris, where Senfft remained behind. He had heard of vague reports about the war on the Saale, when he

* Memoires du Comte de Senfft, Ancien Ministre de Saxe. Leipzig: Veit and Co.

learnt one evening in the theatre that the Prussian army had been destroyed at Jena, and Napoleon was marching on Berlin. This terrible news had aroused such terror in Dresden, that the sole thought was of flight. The court carriages were already packed, when a short message was received to the effect that the Emperor would regard the Elector as a personal foe so soon as the latter quitted Dresden. The court carriages were unpacked, hope took the place of fear, and this hope became a delightful certainty, for they heard in rapid succession that Napoleon had liberated the Saxon prisoners and intended to treat the Elector as his ally, grant him an extension of territory, and even make him a king. These gifts, however, were not regarded as mere presents. The French troops marched in, made requisitions, and behaved with the recklessness of conquerors. Contributions were demanded, which gradually rose to five-andtwenty million francs, and raised the interest of money from three to six per cent., as the cash was taken out of the country. French intendants made their appearance, divided the administration of the country formally among themselves, seized on a part of the public receipts, took the horses from several cavalry regiments, carried off the guns from the Dresden arsenal, and plundered the furniture of the English envoy, Wynn. The Elector had not yet drunk the cup of humiliation to the dregs. He was frightened by an intercepted letter from Wynn to the Saxon minister, Loss, forced to dismiss this minister disgracefully, disavow his own former policy, and take part in the war against Prussia.

The new king behaved no better than all the rest. He tried to acquire as much territory as he could, flattered the master, and bribed the servants. Talleyrand received from the Dresden court treasury a million, Durant half a million, of francs. In Berlin was a great assembly of German envoys, who outbade one another. Talleyrand negotiated with these gentlemen through subordinate agents; only two were allowed to come to Warsaw, where he was residing at the time, General Vincent and Baron von Dalberg. The above-mentioned one and a half million worked favourably for Saxony: it received the circle of Kotbuss and the duchy of Warsaw, a present of nearly two thousand (German) square miles, with close on two and a half million inhabitants. Napoleon, however, kept back twenty millions' worth of the Polish state territory, and presented it to officers. Senfft concludes his account of these occurrences with a general opinion about Talleyrand:

"He employed his position in order to increase his fortune by indelicate means, but never allowed himself to be induced by the most powerful motives of self-interest to favour plans which he regarded as ruinous to the peace of Europe. It was indubitably he who in principle did the most to enslave Germany, and after, by his cunning policy, preparing the enormous supremacy of France on the Continent, he had deprived himself of the means of curbing the insatiable ambition of the man who wielded this colossal might. For all that, he opposed, even at the risk of displeasing his master, every plan which had the tendency of entangling France in new and interminable wars in the midst of peace. From this motive he steadfastly refused any support to the interests of Polish nationality. A sum of four million florins, which was offered him by the magnates of Warsaw if he would help in the restoration of ancient Poland, was declined by him, after it had remained for some days in the

hands of Baron von Dalberg. Regarded from this point of view, Talleyrand's retirement after the peace of Tilsit was very honourable. The Emperor wanted perfectly purposeless tools, and found persons who blindly executed his orders, and who, by flattering his most unbounded thoughts, kept up in him the illusion which covered Europe with ruin and entailed his own downfal. Whenever he consulted Talleyrand, however, he ever heard from this diplomatist the same moderate views and the same wise counsels. Talleyrand's very decided opinion about the Spanish affairs, which brought fresh discredit upon him, will always secure him a glorious place in history."

After the humiliation of Prussia, Napoleon's illusions attained such a pitch that farther-sighted men began to foresee the end. He ordered the etiquette of the court under Louis XIV. to be studied in its minutest details, in order to imitate it exactly. When there was company at the Tuileries, the most illustrious guests assembled in the throne-room. Among the élite of the guests were the French princes, the ministers and grand dignitaries, the grand crosses of the Legion of Honour, the ladies in waiting, and the ambassadors. Those of states of the second and third rank were to have been excluded in the winter of 1807, but Senfft and his colleagues succeeded in maintaining their right. From the throneroom they proceeded to the concert or the play, after which the empress and the princesses formed their card-parties. The Emperor walked about the rooms while play was going on. Supper was served in the Gallery of Flora. The empress and princesses seated themselves, with the ladies invited, at one table, while the other ladies found seats where they could. After supper all returned to the throne-room, and their majesties conversed with the company for a little while. When they retired, the room was emptied so rapidly that it resembled a flight. If kings of the Rhenish Confederation were in Paris, they were not treated differently from the imperial princes. This way of showing them that they were not his equals did not even satisfy the Emperor. He commanded them to pay their respects to his grand dignitaries. The most disagreeable job was the visit to the king's assassin, Cambacères. Still they went the ordered round, and sought to display their dignity in various small ways-for instance, by deferring the visit for several days, or driving up when nobody was at home.

In April, 1808, Senfft received an invitation to proceed to Bayonne. He was ready to start in two days; travelled rapidly through the fair country between Paris and Bordeaux; saw the banks of the Loire, and the interesting point at Cubzac, near the Dordogne, where a southern vegetation follows on the fertile but monotonous fields of Poitou and Angoumois, and where the ivy-clad ruins of the castle of the Four Sons of Hæmon stand; hurried unsympathisingly through the melancholy Landes, and was in Bayonne on May 5. On the following day, Ferdinand of Spain, who had fallen into the snares of Savary, made his entry. The other actors in the atrocious drama of the Spanish abdication, which was put on the stage with brutality and treachery, were already assembled both Napoleon and his brother Joseph, as well as Charles IV. of Spain, an apathetic man, who merely performed the most animal functions; the queen, branded by history as a shameless woman and unnatural mother, who was never seen without her Don Manuel Godoy,

and a junta of Spanish nobles. The latter represented the Spanish nation, and were intended to give their consent to the villanies perpetrated at Bayonne. Abbé de Pradt gained on this occasion the archbishopric of Malines, by causing Canon Escoisquiz, Ferdinand's tutor and confessor, to play the traitor to his master. The nobility of the junta nearly all preserved their fidelity to their country. The Duke of Azanza, a weak character, the Count of Fuentes Pignatelli, an admirer of Parisian danseuses, and a few others, made speeches in the junta in favour of Joseph. The others held their tongues till they should be at liberty on Spanish ground. To one of the most distinguished of these patriots, the Duke of Infantado, Napoleon made one of his coarsest speeches. "You consider yourself a statesman," he said to him publicly, "and yet are only fitted for the effeminate life of Paris. You caused the peasantdisturbances in Spain. Why do you not take off the mask? I will give you a free escort to the rebels. If you adhere to your dissimulation, I prophesy you a cord."

In Bayonne, Napoleon displayed a liking for movement in the open air, which was not usual with him. Probably it was the beauty of the surrounding scenery that attracted him. The city itself, with its badlybuilt houses, its narrow and dirty streets, offered nothing save the strange costumes of its rustic inhabitants and curious carriages of antique shape, on which might be seen the lilies of France combined with the arms of Castile and Aragon. On leaving the narrow streets, however, the visitor found himself in beautiful scenery, watered by the Nive and the Adour, into which a number of small lateral valleys opened. In all, country villas were scattered about, each of which had its fountain, its stream, its plantation, and its garden. If the visitor went up the Nive, he came to meadows and forests; if he went down the united rivers, he soon reached the sea-shore, in whose limestone rocks numerous bays and inlets were cut. In those days these natural havens were empty, and, at the most, gave shelter to a few privateers, awaiting the favourable moment when they could escape the polite attentions of the English cruisers.

When Napoleon was on horseback, he took a pleasure in riding out into the sea as far as he could. He remained a long time at Bayonne, nearly three months, and put off his departure from day to day. He was hoping every moment to receive the news that the Spaniards had accepted his stipulations. He calculated the war-which cost him years, the heart's blood of France and of his vassal states, many millions of francs, and his entire prestige-at a few weeks! During his stay at Bayonne, the Spaniards commenced hostilities by carrying off a flock of sheep in the vicinity of that town. Could there be a more comical opening to a great tragedy?

Neither the establishment of a French throne in Spain, nor the victories of 1809, aroused great sympathy in Paris. The passions of the Revolution had died out, and the new interests that had sprung up since 1789 spread like the lava of a volcanic eruption over the surface. Napoleon had been able to erect his unbounded despotism on this lifeless mass, but his government had taken no root in it. Paris was unsympathetic for everything that occurred out of France. One piece of news aroused a sensation, however. When Aspern was heard of, a secret delight was felt that the Emperor's arrogance had received a lesson, and only the