The grounds of the square English mansion should present the repose and richness of those of an abbey, combined with all the improvements of modern times. The park should be extensive, well wooded, and well watered, with occasional breadth of lawn, so as to show to advantage the rich green sward in which England excels every other country. There should be a shrubbery adjoining the house of ornamental shrubs; in which, towards the farther extremity, should be interspersed some trees, to unite with the masses of wood beyond. There should be a flower-garden, with the flowers planted in beds, so as to form masses of different colours; and there may be other flower-gardens, planted in different ways. There should be an American ground, and a rose-garden; and, if the proprietor be fond of trees and shrubs, there may be an arboretum. At any rate, there may be a pinetum, a willow ground, or oak forest, in which the different species may be collected; and which may be planted with attention to picturesque effect as well as to botanical science. Should there be an island, it, and the banks of the lake in which it lies, may be planted with the different species of alders, poplars, and willows; and if there should be hilly ground, that may be set apart for the pine and fir tribe. It is by no means necessary to plant an arboretum in strict accordance with botanical arrangement, as even botanists do not always agree as to the position of the orders all that is requisite is to keep all the species of each genus together; and, as far as practicable, the different genera of an order. It is also unnecessary to plant all the known trees and shrubs so as to form a complete. arboretum. A proprietor may take any genus or any genera he may prefer, or which may suit his grounds, and illustrate them, without caring for the others.

These remarks are only intended to offer a very slight outline of a picture which the reader may fill up according to his own taste; but they may afford materials for thinking; and, in skilful hands, could not fail in producing striking effects.

436

BENJAMIN CONSTANT.

Or all the individuals who distinguished themselves in the senatorial transactions of the French Revolution of 1789, of the Restoration in 1815, and of the subsequent period to the Revolution of 1830, there is not one who possesses such remarkable claims upon our attention as Benjamin Constant, not merely for the sleepless zeal and indomitable courage with which he advocated the great cause of liberty, even to the last moment of his existence, but because his life and his services have not yet been chronicled as fully and impartially as they deserve. We do not propose in this present paper to fill this strange blank in contemporary history, but rather to trace the outlines of the materials from whence the desideratum is to be supplied.

Benjamin Constant was born in the year 1768, at Lausanne in Switzerland. He began his studies in the university of Edinburgh, and completed them at Erlangen in Germany. Early embued with the ardent theories of political liberty which prevailed amongst his countrymen, his mind derived additional excitement from the study of the constitution and the glories of the Grecian republics. In the Revolution which had then broken out in France, the enthusiastic youth imagined that he saw the regeneration of that country's government, and a promise of the adoption of the simple manners and customs which distinguished ancient Greece. Indeed, his active fancy had impressed him with the revival of the golden age. He fervently sympathised with the reformers of France, and looked upon her heroes and legislators as the peculiar instruments of Providence selected to re-establish peace, prosperity, and liberty throughout Europe. No wonder, then, that he resigned the office of chamberlain which he had held for more than a year at the little aristocratic court of Brunswick, where his ideal French nation was treated with the most marked contempt; the local lordlings of the realm not deigning even to permit it to rank among the European nations since the outbreak of the Revolution. Although he was compelled during his residence at that court to restrain his feelings and sentiments, young Constant failed not to con over and over again the brilliant exploits of a Jourdan, a Moreau, a Joubert, and a Hoche, as given (though greatly disfigured by a jealous censorship) in the German journals; nor could his imagination fail of being impressed with the splendours of the Convention, as it stood in its noble position before Europe. That body, without money, without credit, or consolidated government, had succeeded not only in defending France against the hostility of armed Europe as well as of the insidious factions at home, but had also given effect to her mandates throughout the whole range of countries from the Pyrenees to the Rhine; and then, after having attained these triumphant results, had relinquished the instrument by which it had achieved them, resigning its authority of its own free will, and leaving behind a republican constitution based upon the principles of liberty and moderation.

Constant did not long remain a distant admirer of these brilliant scenes, but proceeded at once to Paris, exulting in the expectation of meeting the master spirits of the age. His way lay through Prussia and Holland, humiliated and struck down by the victorious armies of the republic, the former forced to surrender all her possessions along the left shore of the Rhine, and the latter having lost half her fleet, Dutch Flanders, Venloo,

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Maestricht, and both shores of the Maas. In his passage through these countries, he found the petty princes and statesmen, who, at the outbreak of the Revolution, were so confident in their threats against the Republic, reduced to the utmost consternation and dismay; while, on the other hand, the people were breathlessly awaiting the approach of the streaming banner and the rolling drum, which were to announce to them the coming of the Gallic legions, whose watchwords were liberty and equality. Upon his entrance into the capital of France, where he anticipated scenes of grandeur, sublimity, and peace, he was destined to an overwhelming disappointment. The first object he saw was a cartful of some twenty gens-d'armes, who were being led to the scaffold for having joined the insurgents in their excesses on the 1st of Prairial. The streets of Paris had the gloomy appearance of a field of battle on the morrow after the strife. Only two days previous to his arrival, the doors of the palace where the Convention held their assemblies, had been forced by a drunken mob, who insulted and threatened the members, and for twelve successive hours plunged the city into a state of consternation paralleled only by the disgraceful scenes of the reign of terror.

This was the first political disappointment of B. Constant. His feelings were however soon amply recompensed, by the proclamation of the constitution of the year III.

In the French journals, and even on the rostrum of the Chambre des Deputés, that constitution is still discussed with all the zeal and ardour of present interest, a circumstance which puzzles not a little the philosophy and penetration of strangers. The fact, however, is, that the French are now, in political matters, what the English were at the time when their Magna Charta was proclaimed. The French, like schoolboys, talk about grammatical rules, while the English are too old, and too far advanced in the minutiae and practice of a representative government, to fritter away their time in discussing the elementary principles.

Not long since two French papers, the one ministerial, and the other belonging to the opposition, amused themselves and the public by discussing the merits of this same constitution, with a zeal as spirited and pointed as if the present welfare of the nation depended on it. The one was of opinion, that France was never less free than during the five years the above constitution was in force, while the other maintained precisely the reverse, and with much industry and ingenuity laboured to prove that the extensive provisions contained in it for the maintenance of liberty in general far surpassed even those of the English constitution. Like the two travellers, who disputed about the colours of the chameleon, both parties may be right.

Of all the ephemeral constitutions which have mouldered upon the shelves of the archives of Paris, none had been so distinguished by the unanimous and cordial consent of all parties as that of the year III. At no period of French history certainly was the ruling party so little distracted by internal division, as at the period when the Convention produced and proclaimed that constitution. The re-action of the 9th Thermidor had partially subsided, and the Jacobins, who afterwards twice combated against the moderate republicans, were as yet without influence. All hearts seemed to go with the Convention, and the bitterest enemies of the government of the day (and they were numerous both in the ranks of the royalist and the levellers) united in admiration of the men whose efforts in the cause of true liberty were so conspicuous and earnest.

The spirit in which the Convention was composed deserved this universal

homage. The members of that body were not chosen on the ground of birth or rank exclusively, but were selected on the ground of integrity, past services, experience, and wisdom. The most striking feature, however, which revealed the character of the Convention, and at the same time gave high promise to France of the future, was the adoption of the English parliamentary procedure, which submits all questions relative to new laws, or the abrogation of old, to the searching ordeal of three discussions before it is permitted to be entered on the statute book. The introduction of this policy, so widely at variance with the expeditious and impetuous legislation of the Revolution, could not but be grateful to those who desired to build up on the ruins of absolutism a national system of government.

The popular extension of the elective franchise was another guarantee of public liberty. It is true the Convention was compelled to suppress several societies, in apprehension of the danger likely to result from the turbulent factions which rankled in Paris, and also to interdict the return of the emigrant nobility; but the government of the country was fairly in the hands of the people, nor could any of the public functionaries, from the director down to the lowest officer of the state, hold his place without their sanction. Public opinion was predominant through the columns of a free and enlightened press.

The circumstances immediately connected with the proclamation of the constitution, while they were grateful to the friends of freedom, could not but appear strange and anomalous in the eyes of the monarchs of Europe. That constitution, previous to its proclamation, was laid before the community assembled in congregations throughout the realm, including even the soldiery on the field of battle, in order that its merits might be fairly and fully discussed, and accepted or rejected by the free will of the people. The deliberations in the camp and throughout the country terminated in the unanimous adoption of the constitution; and its proclamation was hailed with unfeigned joy by all classes of society, as the means by which peace and order were to be restored to the nation.

The proclamation was accompanied by two decrees, to the effect that twothirds of the Convention should be re-appointed to the new legislative assembly, in order that the work of the former might not be destroyed by the latter. These decrees were sanctioned by all the departments, except those of Paris, where royalists were still secretly lurking and exercising the dark and complicated machinery of their influence to thwart or neutralise every measure of the Convention, and distract and divide the attention of the people.

It is not a little curious that young Constant, who had arrived in the capital glowing with patriotism, should have commenced operations in the ranks of the intriguers against that constitution of which he was afterwards the ablest supporter. He had been introduced by some of his countrymen to Madame de Staël, whose house was the rendezvous at that time of the flower of the literary and political genius of France. Here his personal beauty and the nobility of his mind drew upon him the notice of society, and involved him in a variety of dangerous temptations. Madame de Staël herself felt a strong attachment for him, a feeling to which she yielded with all the enthusiasm and unreserve so peculiar to her in affairs of the heart. Thus, young and unknown as Constant was, he soon became the centre of that famous coterie, composed of foreign diplomatists, emigrants, disaffected journalists, and individuals of both sexes, who, thirsting for fame, co-operated with fierce industry against the reforms which were taking place around them. There were seen, among others, Suard, Morellet, Lacretelle

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the younger, Laharpe the witty, Lauragais, the Castellans, the Choiseuls, and others, who were equally dissatisfied with the former and present state of things. Amidst the gloomy and care-worn countenances of those malcontents, the blooming features of the comely student, with his long and gracefully flowing hair, exhibited a most striking contrast. He was eagerly listened to when he gave his enthusiastic opinions on the politics of the day, and supported them by the combined power of lofty eloquence and extensive erudition.

Previously to his appearance in the French metropolis, Benjamin Constant had visited England; but what he saw in the English aristocracy had such an effect upon his feelings, that on his return to France he renounced at once the titles and distinctions which had accrued to him from his own noble birth and family. A mind of this tone, so simple, so honest, so credulous of good, was of all others the most likely to become entangled in the meshes which the crafty are ever spreading abroad for the accomplishment of their own purposes. Moreover, his mind had imbibed the mystical and obscure tenets of the German philosophy; and from these he had built up in his imagination a sort of philosophical government, based on the vague notions of right and equality which were then floating through the unsettled mind of Europe. The violent republicans, and those who yet clung to the desperate cause of royalty, watchful to press into their service, at any expense, all the unappropriated talent, genius, and intellect they could win over to their cause, beset Constant immediately on his appearance in Paris. A crafty junta encompassed him. He was soon drawn into an exhibition of his powers, and found ready and obsequious listeners to his Utopian harangues, who never failed to laud to the skies his sentiments, and the eloquence with which they were propounded. Thus flattered and blinded, the inexperienced student was employed as a tool to carry out the machinations of a faction.

The first step he was induced to take was the publication of three letters in the daily journals, in which he attacked the decrees regarding the re-appointment of the two-thirds of the members of the Convention. These letters had a wonderful effect: they exhibited at once to the insidious circle that surrounded him a palpable demonstration of ability which promised to be of all-commanding service to that party who might be fortunate enough to enlist it on their side. A mind of the calibre of Constant might not be proof against the sudden fascination of popularity; but it was not likely that he could long be deceived, or mistaken in his true position. He soon perceived, in the anxious solicitude and importunity with which he was assailed, sufficient reason for suspecting that all was not honest in the hearts of his associates. The purity and sincerity of his own motives and principles kept him free from the contamination of faction, and ultimately his eyes were opened. He saw the fearful precipice, to the very brink of which he had been drawn. He penetrated the real designs of his pretended friends, which he found to be nothing less than the extermination of the patriots, and the restoration of arbitrary power. He shrunk from the circle, and his first movement was to refute publicly the arguments of the three epistles, by which he had made so many odious friends. His refutation, however, which he composed under the guidance of Louvel, as well as the speech with which the latter defended it in the Convention, made scarcely any impression on the public in comparison with the success which attended the letters. Such lessons are not lost on great minds, nor were these on Constant. They inspired him with that prudence and circumspection which characterised his subsequent career, and for which he was afterwards so