The plan proposed by Tone was, that a body of French troops should be landed in Ireland, with a general at their head, of established reputation; the troops to consist of at least 20,000 men, 15,000 of which should land as near the capital as circumstances would admit, and 5,000 in the North of Ireland, near Belfast. If, however, the Republic found it impossible to spare so large a body of men, he mentioned 5,000 as the very lowest number with which the attempt could be made. He might as well have mentioned five hundred. The bare idea of subduing the English force in Ireland by means of 5,000 men, and such auxiliaries as they might receive on their landing, was supremely absurd.

After many promises and delays, the famous Botany Bay expedition was fixed upon, and actually put to sea, from Brest, on the 15th of December, 1796. The force on board the different frigates, was estimated at 15,100 men, well provided with arms, artillery, and ammunition, under the command of Hoche, The result of this enterprise is well known. The fleet were separated by the elements; Grouchy, who might have landed at his destination, with five or six thousand men, hesitated until the vessels in company with him were rendered scarcely sea-worthy by the inclemency of the weather, when he thought right to return to Brest as quickly as he could. Tone was with this expedition. He speaks in indignant terms of Grouchy's* hesitation. It is remarkable, that in their voyage to Botany Bay, and their return to Brest, they did not meet a single English ship of war.

We pass over the period during which our hero served in the army of the Sambre and the Meuse, and also the ineffectual armament of the Texel, in order to come to the third and last expedition in which Tone was engaged for the invasion of Ireland. We give the editor's account of it.

At length, about the 20th of September, 1798, that fatal expedition set sail from the Baye de Cameret. It consisted of the Hoche, 74; Loire, Resolue, Bellone, Coquille, Embuscade, Immortalite, Romaine, and Semillante, frigates; and Biche schooner, and aviso. To avoid the British fleets, Bompart, an excellent seaman, took a large sweep to the westward, and then to the north-east, in order to bear down on the northern coast of Ireland, from the quarter whence a French force would be least expected. He met, however, with contrary winds, and it appears that his flotilla was scattered; for, on the 10th of October, after twenty days" cruise, he arrived off the entry of Loch Swilly, with the Hoche, the Loire, the Resolue, and the Biche. He was instantly signalled; and, on the break of day, next morning, 11th of October, before he could enter the bay or land his troops, he perceived the squadron of Sir John Borlase Warren, consisting of six sail of the line, one razee of sixty guns, and two frigates, bearing down upon him. There was no chance of escape for the large and heavy man of war. Bompart gave instant signals to the frigates and

*This was the Grouchy, to whose hesitation Napoleon, at a later period, imputed his defeat at Waterloo.

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schooner, to retreat through shallow water, and prepared alone to honour the flag of his country, and liberty, by a desperate, but hopeless defence. At that moment, a boat came from the Biche for his last orders. That ship had the best chance to get off. The French officers all supplicated my father to embark on board of her. "Our contest is hopeless," they observed, will be prisoners of war, but what will become of you." Shall it be said,” replied he, "that I fled, whilst the French were fighting the battles of my country?" He refused their offers, and determined to stand and fall with the ship. The Biche accomplished her escape, and I see it mentioned in late publications, that other Irishmen availed themselves of that occasion. This fact is incorrect, not one of them would have done so; and besides, my father was the only Irishman on board of the Hoche.

The British admiral dispatched two men of war, the razee, and a frigate, after the Loire and the Resolue, and the Hoche was soon surrounded by four sail of the line and a frigate, and began one of the most obstinate and desperate engagements, which have ever been fought on the ocean. During six hours, she sustained the fire of a whole fleet, till her masts and rigging were swept away, her scuppers flowed with blood, her wounded filled the cock-pit, her shattered ribs yawned at each new stroke, and let in five feet of water in the hold, her rudder was carried off, and she floated a dismantled wreck on the waters; her sails and cordage hung in shreds, nor could she reply with a single gun from her dismounted batteries, to the unabating cannonade of the enemy. At length she struck. The Resolue and Loire were soon reached by the English fleet; the former was in a sinking condition, she made, however, an honourable defence; the Loire sustained three attacks, drove off the English frigates, and had almost effected her escape; at length, engaged by the Anson razee of sixty guns, she struck, after an action of three hours, entirely dismasted. Of the other frigates, pursued in all directions, the Bellone, Immortalité, Coquille, and Embuscade were taken, and the Romaine and Semillante, through a thousand dangers, reached separate ports in France.

During the action, my father commanded one of the batteries, and, according to the report of the officers who returned to France, fought with the utmost desperation, and as if he was courting death. When the ship struck, confounded with the other officers, he was not recognised for some time; for he had completely acquired the language and appearance of a Frenchman. The two fleets were dispersed in every direction; nor was it till some days later, that the Hoche was brought into Loch Swilly, and the prisoners landed and marched to Letterkenny. Yet rumours of his being on board must have been circulated, for the fact was public at Paris. But it was thought he had been killed in the action, and I am willing to believe that the British officers, respecting the valour of a fallen enemy, were not earnest in investigating the point. It was at length a gentleman, well known in the county Derry, as a leader of the Orange party, and one of the chief magistrates in that neighbourhood, Sir George Hill, who had been his fellow-student in Trinity college, and knew his person, who undertook the task of discovering him. It is known that in Spain, grandees and noblemen of the first rank pride themselves in the functions of familiars, spies, and informers of the holy Inquisition; it remained for Ireland to offer a similar example. The French officers were invited to breakfast with the Earl of Cavan, who commanded in that district; my father sat

undistinguished amongst them, when Sir George Hill entered the room, followed by police officers. Looking narrowly at the company, he singled out the object of his search, and stepping up to him, said, “Mr. Tone, I am very happy to see you." Instantly rising, with the utmost composure, and disdaining all useless attempts at concealment, my father replied, "Sir George, I am happy to see you; 'how are Lady Hill and your family?" Beckoned into the next room by the police officers, an unexpected indignity awaited him; it was filled with military; and one general Lavau, who commanded them, ordered him to be ironed, declaring that, as on leaving Ireland, to enter the French service, he had not renounced his oath of allegiance, he remained a subject of Britain, and should be punished as a traitor. Seized with a momentary burst of indignation at such unworthy treatment and cowardly cruelty to a prisoner of war, he flung off his uniform, and cried, "These fetters shall never degrade the revered insignia of the free nation which I have served." Resuming then his usual calm, he offered his limbs to the irons, and when they were fixed, he exclaimed, “For the cause which I have embraced, I feel prouder to wear these chains, than if I were decorated with the star and garter of England.”—vol. ii., pp. 523 -525.

The result need not be told. Tone was tried by a court martial, and ordered to be hanged. He anticipated his fate, by the aid of a penknife; and after lingering some days in prison, died as he had lived, faithful to the cause which he had espoused.

It is a remark that no reader can fail to make, after perusing these volumes, that it was chiefly to the personal exertions of Theobald Wolfe Tone, the fitting out of the three French expeditions against Ireland was to be attributed. This is a circumstance not to be overlooked by those who wish well, as we most sincerely do, to the permanence of the Union between England and that country. The argument is obvious. If one man could do so much with France, at the time her resources were extremely embarrassed, is it not to be feared that, even without such interference, our jealous neighbours, now that they are absolutely opulent, and at least equally disposed to injure us, would look at once to Ireland, in case war should again break out in Europe? Is the British statesman, therefore, in his senses, who, instead of conciliating the sister island, does every thing in his power to exasperate and oppress her? It was by such folly in our councils that America was lost. We ardently hope that the future historian will not have to say, that it was by a course of similar madness in the cabinet and parliament, that Ireland was compelled to follow the example of the colonies.

We have no room to notice the many interesting and important documents which will be found in the Appendix to these volumes. Among them, is that matronly and affecting narrative of Mrs. Tone, to which we have already alluded. We cannot refrain from indulging the reader with one extract from this paper, in which she describes her parting with her only son, when setting out to join his regiment.

At the close of January, 1813, my son was appointed Sub-Lieutenant

in that regiment, and ordered to its depôt, or head quarters, at Gray, in Franche Comté, to instruct recruits; another, and a very good practical school; but the account of this I shall leave to himself. Before going off, he had leave of absence for a month. We removed again my little establishment to Paris, and took lodging in the Rue de Lille, now Rue de Bourbon. It will be believed this month was a most interesting period to me. I had lived with great economy at St. Germain's, and was able to make considerable additions to the government allowance for equipment. We got an excellent little horse, of Arabian breed, called Solyman, with whom I made acquaintance; it used to eat bread out of my hand, and was as gentle as a little dog. At length the day of departure arrived, and I accompanied him as far as Brie Comte Robert, the first day's journey, to see how Solyman went on. Horse and rider frolicked on before me, and now and then returned to the coach window to receive a caress, Solyman always putting in for his share. We passed the night there.

'Next morning, we walked from the town together, out of human ken (Solyman, with his little portmanteau, making one); and there I blessed my boy, and parted with him. Oh! people talk much of the pain of parting; but, in the variety of painful feelings which have passed through my heart, it is not the worst. The feelings are then, at least mine always were, of a very mixed and active nature; some of them delightful. Besides, parting is not parted: the object is there, but-parted-gone. Even now I must not think of it.

'Hitherto I had not allowed myself even to feel that my William was my own and my only child. I considered only that Tone's son was confided to me; but, in that moment, nature resumed her rights. I sat in a field : the road was long and white before me, and no object on it, but my child; nor did I leave "to after-eye him till he had melted from the smallness of a gnat to air." But then, I thought my task was finished; my business in life was over. I could not think; but all I had ever suffered seemed before and around me at that moment, and I wished so intensely to close my eyes for ever, that I wonder it did not happen. The transitions of the mind are very extraordinary. As I sat in that state, unable even to think of the necessity of returning home, a little lark rushed up from the grass beside me; it whirled over my head and hovered in the air, singing such a beautiful, cheering, and, as it sounded to me, approving note, that it roused me. I felt on my heart as if Tone had sent it to me. I returned to my solitary home.'-vol. ii., pp. 586, 587.

We have, also, in the Appendix, a very curious account of this young soldier's adventures, in the campaigns of Napoleon in Germany. But we must refer the reader for them to the volumes themselves, which he will find in every respect entitled to his best attention.

ART. VIII. Ueber Natur, Bestimmung, Tugend und Bildung der Frauen, von Karoline von Woltmann. 1 vol., 12mo. Vienna. Black & Young: London. 1826.

WE have here a disquisition on the nature, the destination, the virtues, and the education of women, written by Madame

Woltmann, the authoress of some works of imagination, and the editor of the Volkssagen, or popular tales of Bohemia, her native country. She is the widow of a very eminent writer, and seems well-read in Kant, Fichte, and other German metaphysicians.

The fair sex cannot complain, with any great reason, of not having their duty laid down for them in books, and that at a sufficiently early period. We cannot speak decidedly of what the Hindoo and Chinese philosophers may have done in this way; and the Persians, who, though in their conduct they seem to verify the old proverb of the smith's mare going the worst shod,' have been always very generous of their ethical instructions. But the oldest piece of the kind that we are acquainted with, is a very agreeable little work of Xenophon's, usually called his "Economics," in which Socrates relates a conversation he had with a young man named Ischomachus, who gives him an account of the sage instructions he had bestowed upon his young wife, immediately on their marriage, respecting her duties as a wife, and as the mistress of a family. This little piece we would recommend to the perusal of all our fair readers (in the English translation, we mean, for we believe there is such a thing), that they may learn to bless their lot, that they are what they are, and not Athenian matrons, proud as the appellation may sound. Though the ladies of Rome enjoyed somewhat more consideration than those of Greece, yet we do not find, in the remains of Roman literature, any work particularly designed for their service; and even in the days of chivalry, they were left to pick up knowledge from one another, or however else they might. But of late years the case is far otherwise; and if they do not know, and practise their duties, wherever the fault may lie, it is not in the want of good books. They have been taught by novels, by essays, by sermons, by treatises, by hints, and that both by writers of their own sex and of the other. Though, if we may believe the present writer, the latter are but indifferently qualified for the task; for the following is the first sentence of her preface, "If these pages had been written by a man, they would have been better; but no man could write them, since nature has denied to him, as such, the necessary knowledge of the subject of which they treat.'

Madame Woltmann commences her work with reflections on the peculiar bodily frame and mind of females. With respect to the former, she notices the greater delicacy of their organs, a nicer disposition of the osseous system, a more lively vibration of the nervous tissue, greater elasticity of the muscles, and greater flexibility of the sinews, as peculiarly distinguishing it from those of all other animals. The mind of females, she regards as inferior in strength to that of men; but exceeding it in quickness, and in capability of receiving impressions from external objects.

This we conceive to be matter of fact, and there are those who ascribe these differences between the different sexes, and between