that Europe was given over into the power of Napoleon, and that resistance to his will was useless. The historian Müller, writing from Berlin in 1807, says, 'I call to mind the seer of antiquity, who knew by the signs of the times that God was about to create a new thing in the earth. Jeremiah had wept himself blind, but yet he saw that Asia, as also his own people, was given into the hands of the Babylonians, and he counselled submission as the only prudent course. In like manner in this wonderful year are the nations taken as in the net of the fowler, from Cadiz to Dantzig, from Ragusa to Hamburg, and soon everywhere it will be l'Empire Français, whether for seventy years, as in Babylon, or for seven hundred, as in Rome, who can tell?'

A great secret society was formed, called the Tugendbund, which spread its ramifications into every German state, and means were found to circulate papers and pamphlets of a tone calculated to strengthen the national feeling.

The rising in Spain in 1808 caused universal joy; the progress of the Peninsular war was eagerly watched, and when, in 1809, Austria, seeing Napoleon embarrassed in Spain, sought to throw off his yoke, the hopes of Germany revived. 'Would Prussia join the cause?' was the question asked by every one. The ministers exerted all their influence, but the king held back; he felt himself bound by his treaties, and feared to see his country yet more hopelessly crushed. To many among his people, inaction at this moment seemed fatal, and a vast conspiracy was formed to make a bold movement for the liberation of the country. The success of the brave peasantry in the Tyrol, and the triumph of the Archduke Charles at Aspern, raised the belief that the right hour was come; the standard of revolt was raised by Dornberg in Westphalia, and Major von Schill led out his heroic band to their daring and fatal enterprise.

The fate of Schill was lamentable indeed; for months he had been training a chosen company of officers and men, yet without exciting the suspicion of the French in Berlin. When Dorenberg rose, papers were discovered implicating Schill, and although he feared the time was not fully ripe, he was obliged to act at once, or relinquish all hope of action in the future. He therefore marched out, and invited all who desired the freedom of their country to join his standard. He had hoped to obtain possession of one of the great fortresses of Germany, but, failing in the attempt, he retired to Stralsund; there, besieged by an overwhelm ing force, he waited in vain for expected succour from England, until at length the feeble fortifications being destroyed, the brave little band was taken. And on the very day when the French flag was hoisted on the ramparts of Stralsund, the British cruisers came in sight, too late to save von Schill, who was hastily executed; eleven of his followers suffered death a few days later; they embraced each other, and went cheerfully to their doom, which was light indeed compared to that of the prisoners who survived. Young men of the noblest families in VOL. 29. PART 173.

34

Prussia, they were heavily ironed and sent to the galleys of Cherbourg to wear out an existence of hopeless misery among common felons.

The insurrections were crushed; the Duke of Brunswick, who had striven in vain to effect a junction with Schill or Dorenberg, after performing heroic feats, led his black legion to the coast, whence those tardy British cruisers conveyed them in safety to England.

Baron von Stein, who had laboured to promote the rising, was dismissed from office at Napoleon's command, and obliged to fly for his life to another land.

Napoleon once more triumphed over Austria; after the battle of Wagram he again dictated peace in Vienna, and the whole of Germany was now in his paralysing grasp.

Saxony and Bavaria, it is true, by their unwavering allegiance to France, had escaped the miseries which had befallen their neighbours; but Napoleon demanded great sacrifices from his friends and allies, as well as from his foes. Even his brother Jerome was driven to remonstrate against the heavy sums which he was expected to wring from his subjects in Westphalia, for the treasury of France.

Austria, though reduced in territory, suffered less than some of the more commercial states; and after Napoleon's marriage with Marie Louise, her position was ameliorated.

Fear led the lesser states to unite themselves more closely with the conqueror, and when in 1812 (his short-lived alliance with Alexander being dissolved), Napoleon determined upon the invasion of Russia, and swept through Germany with his devouring host-in whose ranks all the nations under his sway were compelled to serve; when in Dresden he assembled round him the princes of more than half the civilised world as his vassals or his allies-his power seemed truly invincible.

As the campaign opened, and victory after victory was announced, while the Russians continued to retreat before him, all hope of deliverance was at an end. Towards the close of the year, vague rumours of disaster and defeat were whispered, but none dared to credit them; when suddenly to the surprise of all, the publication of the 29th bulletin confirmed without a shadow of doubt the tidings that the French host was annihilated. The news reached Berlin about the middle of December; it was later in reaching the more distant provinces. We are told how in Hamburg the citizens were preparing in gloomy and desperate dejection to celebrate the Christmas festival when, on the 24th, the astounding news arrived-"a miracle had been wrought, a star of hope had arisen such a Christmas Eve was kept as had not been known for many a long year."

(To be continued.)

ONE TRAGEDY AVERTED BY ANOTHER.

(Abridged from the French.)

BY CHARLOTTE M. YONGE.

It is at the risk of striking a note that has become wearisome from frequent repetition that we cannot help reviving from a book of forty years ago the story of the effects of a Breton sacred drama, not exactly a passion play, but more like a mystery. The book is an early one of Emile Souvestre's, printed in 1841 at Brussels, and entitled Memoires d'un Sans-Culotte Bas Breton. We have no doubt that, though the thread on which the incidents are hung may be imaginary, they themselves are all facts, and as, in the four- or five-and-thirty years that we have possessed the book we never met with any one else who had read it, we venture to give an account of the wonderful episode we have referred to. The Sans-Culotte, whose name is Baptiste. is the son of a bourgeois at Rennes, and after being educated for the priesthood, has become a man of business, engaged in the Revolution, more from circumstance than opinion.

.

He had been at Rennes on some mercantile affairs in the summer of 1793, and was about to return to Brest, when the wife of one of his friends entreated him to go by way of La Roche Bernard, and escort thither a poor girl named Claire de la Hunoterie, who had just been deprived of her shelter in one of the convents of Rennes, and was in peril from the passion of Pochole, the revolutionary chief in command of the city, and a friend of Carrier. At Roche Bernard she could be hidden by her relations, but to escape thither was almost impossible. Baptiste, however, undertook the dangerous commission, and the good lady brought the poor child to him at nightfall, disguised as a peasant of Morbihan. He took her with him in a cabriolet; but the first difficulty, and one for which he had not been prepared, was to pass the sentinels. He had hoped to escape this by not getting into the carriage till they were beyond the gates, but there was an outpost of which he had not been warned, where passports had to be verified, and while waiting for his turn, he heard the following altercation going on :

'This boy is not mentioned in your papers,' said the officer on guard.. 'He is my son.'

We let no one pass without a special safe conduct.

'No matter. Those are the orders.'

'Not even a child?'

'There are no more children! The nation only recognises aristocrats and sans-culottes. Go back and get a pass for your lad.'

Audacity was Baptiste's only hope, so he stepped forward saying, 'I hope, citizen, your orders do not apply to women.'

'Women as well as men.'

'Are they supposed to be going over to the enemy?' 'Perhaps.'

'I didn't know they were a prohibited commodity.' 'You know it now.'

All this was very brief and blunt. Baptiste had one hope left. He turned to the girl and said, 'You hear, my dear, your pretty face can't be your passport.'

This made the officer glance at Claire, and struck with her sweet face, he asked more gently, 'Has the citoyenne no pass?'

'She never thought of one. Poor child! she came to see her friends at Rennes, and I have been asked to take her back; but she must wait for another chance.'

His coolness put the officer off his guard, and with a certain desire not to be harsh to a pretty, frightened girl, he asked if she had any paper or letter that could prove that she belonged to Roche Bernard, but of course she was destitute of any. At that moment of perplexity, a peasant, who had also been kept waiting, came forward. Baptiste knew him at once for a Breton, who had been in the service of a certain Citoyen Sauveur, a friend of his, who had been killed by some of the Chouans with great barbarity. The man, whose name was Pierre, made a sign to Baptiste not to recognise him, and coming forward said, 'Are you talking of Roche Bernard? I belong there, and am going thither with despatches.'

This was true, and the officer, after looking at his papers, said, 'Do you know that girl?'

Pierre gave a sneering laugh. 'I don't know,' he said; 'I thought she was Rose Murin, but she has altered since she left home four months ago.'

'How so?'

'She used to know her neighbours, and speak civilly to them; but it seems that Rennes has made her too fine!'

And some highly personal inventions about her childhood having convinced the officer, he allowed her to pass, and the cabriolet proceeded, but was presently overtaken by Pierre, who was a shrewd and generous fellow, of no particular politics, but getting employment from the existing powers, though always ready to serve the distressed, and with a warm regard for Baptiste, as a friend of his late master. These were the late days of the Vendean and Breton loyalists, when all the gentle and chivalrous leaders had long been killed, and nothing remained but the desperate men who still lurked in the woods, embittered into savage reprisals by the devastation of their homes, and becoming the terror of travellers.

Bending down on his saddle, he whispered to Baptiste, She is

a ci-devant, is she not?' and receiving a sign of assent-Sought for?'

'Yes.'

'Yet you are on the high road! If you are pursued, you will be easily caught!'

'What can be done? The by-roads are not fit for the carriage, and Claire cannot walk.'

Pierre had nothing to say to this, and they went on in a clear, still moonlight night, in a silence that made the wheels perilously audible. Suddenly two shots were heard in the distance, then the well-known owl-like hoot of the Chouans, and a third report.

That is on the road,' said Pierre. some one.'

The brigands are attacking

After some time the owl-cry

The travellers waited and listened. was heard, but more to the left, and was responded to by more distant shouts.

'All right,' said Pierre; 'That is over, and the brigands are off.' 'Are you sure?'

'Don't you hear their recall? The prey is caught, the ambush is broken up; they are gone to supper. We can go on. If they kill us.

it will not be in the same place.'

With this pleasing assurance the party proceeded, and in about a quarter of an hour came to a dying horse by the side of the road, evidently belonging to the object of the recent attack. Pierre suggested that the saddle and bridle might be transferred to Baptiste's horse, and then, taking Claire en croupe, they could turn into a bye-lane, leaving the carriage behind them, so that if they were being pursued, the sight of it would lead to the inference that they had been seized and carried off by the brigands. This was carried out, and they entered a narrow hollow lane. Before long they heard the unmistakable tramp of cavalry on the high road, and perceived the wisdom of his advice. But if they had escaped the peril of Pochole's pursuit of the escaped Demoiselle de Hunoterie, they were encountering that of the royalists. Pierre soon observed traces that the lane had been lately trodden, and presently, after about two hours, at a crossing of roads, he came to an oak tree, beneath which a shattered cross had been repaired, a sure sign of their handiwork. The lower branches of the tree were broken all on one side, and in this he read that the brigands were near, since such were the tokens they used among themselves, but as it was uncertain whether they were before or behind, it was judged best to keep straight on.

'But,' said Pierre, 'we must cross a copse that may be as full of aristocrats as of foxes. Keep your eyes open, citoyen, and watch your horse's ears.'

They were in fact entering a thicket of underwood, with a tortuous path through it. Pierre stooped low over his horse's neck, keeping in