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NAPſ) L

THE
NAPOLEON DYNASTY:
() R,
HISTORY OF THE BONAPARTE FAMILY,
NAP () i, É () X {i.
Allustratro tuit Gutmly-two portraits.
L () N D () N :
CLARKE, BEETON, AND CO., FOREIGN BOOKSELLERS,
. 148, FLEET STREET.




ºgy THE
BERKELEY MEN AND ANOTHER.
Le ster, C Waav Veg Y Awaxºs
from CHARLEs Bonaparts to NAPOLEON II., by THE BERKELEY MEN
º Louis NAPOLEON, By F. GREENwooD. j
sluinto it want tº primits.
CLARKE, BEETON, & Co., FOREIGN BOOKSELLERS,
148, FLEET STREET,








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I, O N DO N :
*RINTED BY SALISBURY: BEETon, AND co., BouverIE-STREET, FLEET-STREET,






TO
HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY
NA POLE ON THE THIRD,
EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH,
THIS BOOK
IS RESPECTFULLY DEIDICATED BY
THE PUBLISHERS.



Cºunt, §
BOOK I.
ORIGIN of THE BONAPARTE FAMILY .
CARLo BonAPARTE # 4, . . .
LETITIA RAMOLINI . # § 3. •
CARDINAL FESCH • . . . . .
BOOK II.
THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON . & # $
BOOK III.
THE EMPRESS Joseph INE & 3. .#
BOOK IV.
THE EMPRESS MARIA LOUISA # #
BOOK W.
JoSEPH BonAPARTE, KING OF NAPLES AND SPAIN .
BOOK WI.
LUCIEN BONAPARTE, PRINCE OF CANINo . f
PAGE,
13
25
40
206
2.94
306
369
BOOK WII.
Louis BONAPARTE, KING OF HOLLAND 6;
QUEEN HoRTENSE . s: g
386
400



CONTENTS,
BOOK WIII.
JEROME BONAPARTE, KING OF WESTPHALIA
NAPOLEON's SISTERs—ELIZA
PAULINE º & &
CAROLINE . . - *
EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS
NAPOLEON FRANCIS J0SEPH, DURE OF REICHSTADT .
BOOK IX.
JoACHIM MURAT—KING OF NAPLES
BOOK X.
PAGE,
431
435
443
447
454
457
LOUIS NAPOLEON−EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH
HISTORIC ILLUSTRATIONS * *
491
613
£ist ºf pºrtraits.
EMPEROR NAPOLEON. (Frontispiece.)
KING OF ROME. ( Vignate. J
CARLO BonAPARTE .
LETITIA $
CARDINAL FESCH
THE FIRST Consul,
THE EMPRESS JosłPHINE
MARIA LOUISA
PAGE.
13
25
40
206
294
306
Joseph BonAPARTE r
LUCIEN BONAPARTE . . • , . . . e.
LOUIS BONAPARTE .
HoRTENSE •
JEROME BONAPARTE # º $
ELIZABETH PATTERSON
JEROME NAPOLEoN BONAPARTE
ELIZA
PAULINE
CAROLINE &
Eugene BEAUHARNAis & •
JoACHIM MURAT 4. .
LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
THE EMPRESS EUGENIE
369
386
400
413
417
428
431
435
443
447
457
491
610






THE NAPOLEON DYNASTY.
: BOOK. I. .
ORIGIN OF THE BONAPARTE FAMILY.
A BONAPARTE again rules France. The results of the
late revolution have invested the character and history of
Napoleon with a new and deeper interest.
Twice the Bourbons have gone down and left a Repub-
lic in France, and twice that Republic has given way to
the Napoleon dynasty. The struggle may not yet be
over, but there are more Bonapartes than Bourbons living
to maintain it. < * : * : …. . . ; . .
Something greater than stars watched over the birth of
Napoleon, and a power higher than fortune guides the
destinies of the Bonaparte family. No one's history has
been written by so many different hands, no one's history
read by so many eyes, as the Corsican soldier's. Not a
generation has passed away since he died, and his name
and his history are familiarly known to more men to-day
than Alexander's or Caesar's, ...’
II,
No man has ever put forth such influence on human
fortunes. Men and nations bent before him, as willows
bend when the storm sweeps by. It exhausted and im-
poverished all Europe to crush him. They chained the
… B .




2. THE OBJECT OF THIS HISTORY.
eagle to the bald cliff of a volcanic rock of the ocean
among the clouds, and six years England kept a fleet to
watch him, and see him chafe and die ; and then they
opened his body, and took out his vitals, and were sure he
was dead; and then they excavated a grave in the rock,
and welded his coffin in by strong bars of iron, and then
they watched the place for twenty years.
And when at last Europe was no longer afraid of the
dead eagle's ashes, she let France take them back to the
banks of the Seine. They had stolen the young eagle
from the parent's nest, and carried him away among
strangers, where he pined, sickened, and died, Europe
then thought she could breathe free again.
III.
But a Bonaparte still rules France. There is some-
thing in all this worthy of a more careful survey than
history has yet given. We have long wondered there was
no complete history of the Bonaparte family. We at last
resolved to attempt one ourselves. So much for the occa-
sion of this book.
Its object is to furnish, in a single volume, authentic
biographies of the principal members of the Bonaparte
family—to gather and arrange from many volumes into
one, valuable, rare, and interesting materials now floating
on the turbid ocean of modern history, beyond the reach
of all but the adventurous, the curious, or the learned.
Those whose studies have not led them along the same
track will discover in these biographies how unfounded
is the opinion so commonly entertained that Napoleon
was the only extraordinary member of his family. They
were all so gifted by nature, they could have achieved
eminence on any road of life ; and their individual ener-
gies and accomplishments raised barriers and reflected
lustre on Napoleon's throne. Each one's history is worthy
3.
THE ROMAN POWER, 2. 3
of the careful pen of the historian; while the whole
family constitute the most brilliant and attractive group
of contemporary kinsmen we have any knowledge of We
have endeavoured to draw each portrait with distinctness
and individuality, and trace the development of each
one's character as a separate and peculiar growth, without
losing sight of the dependence of each branch on the
gigantic trunk which sustained them all.
… . ; : … -- " -- IV.
ſt should not be forgotten that the Bonaparte family
gang from Italian soil. That wonderful peninsula has
{ fruitful source of genius and empire for nearly
thirty centuries. :
Whatever light the world has had sprang from the
Hebrews, the Greeks, or the Italians. The last represent
them all. And thus we owe to them not our New World
only, but all we are and all we hope to be. Italy no
longer governs the world by arms, but she still asserts her
dominion of ideas. The intellect and the institutions of
modern times have been moulded by the genius of Italy.
Long before the shores of the Tiber were disturbed by
the hum of the city of Romulus, the Phoenicians made
Etruria the gem of Europe and the garden of Italy. The
industrious excavations of recent years have disentombed
the wondrous fruits of their ante-Roman civilisation.
Then rose the structure of Roman power, slow and sturdy
in its growth, irresistible in its progress, and lasting in
its existence—first under the kings, during which period
the State was striking its roots down into the soil, and
nurturing the Herculean power which afterwards enfolded
and held the world. . . . . . . i.
When the rude energy of early Roman valour had been
somewhat tamed by culture, and the multitude would no
longer bow to a single will, the commonwealth took the







4. . THE ROMAN POWER.
place of the monarchy. Conquest extended the domains
of the State; Commerce spread its white wings over the
Mediterranean; Greece fell into the arms of Rome, with
her priceless dower of immortal learning; Carthage became
a ruin and left Rome without a rival; and at last, when
her proportions had become too colossal for the simplicity
of a Republic, she assumed the Imperial form. -
V. -
At the time of the Saviour, Rome had absorbed the
world. It was the focal-point of learning—it was the
centre of influence for all civilised men. In the Augustan
age, Rome summed up all there was of human progress the
race had made since Adam. She needed nothing but the
new light just breaking over Bethlehem, and this was soon
to radiate her. The altars of the Pantheon, then smoking
to the divinities of mythology, were to send up their in-
cense to the founder of a new religion—the Romulus of a
kingdom whose emblem dove of peace has unfolded its
wings over empires where Caesar's eagles never flew.
This, the new element of power that was to put forth
so vast an influence on the fate of men, and slowly work
the dissolution of the Roman Empire, thus emancipating
a hundred nations, was early seized hold of by the grasp-
ing hand of Rome, and as the crumbling castle of the
Caesars fell, there emerged from the smoking ruin the dim,
fearful form of the Hierarchy; a spiritual empire more
formidable, more universal, more vast than that of Aure-
lian, for it controlled the consciences as well as the bodies
of men, and the fortunes of kingdoms, Julius Caesar and
all the Caesars were dead; but the ferocity of the northern
barbarians, which the Roman legions could neither resist
nor tame, was subdued by the Cross. Europe has for ages
attempted to shake off this terrible power, and revolution
has followed revolution, and governments and emperors





THE SUPREMACY or ITALY. 5
and chieftains have risen and been overthrown, but the
power of the Roman Hierarchy is still unbroken; Rome
still asserts her empire over the world. Every power that
has ever grappled with her has been overthrown, from
- o Napoleon. The Popes are driven away by bar-
ba exiled to Avignon–carried captive to Paris—
fly to Gaeta—but they always go back to Rome! Close
by, and apparently as eternal as the tomb of St. Peter or
the Arch of Titus, a Pope still sits. . w
VI,
hen came the Justinian code, after the temporal power
of Rome was broken, and the barbarian had made a manger
for his steed in the Golden House of Nero. The spear had
fallen from the hands of the legions; but Roman genius
laws for the world. Then came the Republics,
the institution of the modern system of States, the
nd humane reign of commerce, with its great dis-
the revival of letters and the glorious triumphs
arts which adorn and bless the world. The
edici gave us commerce; Columbus and Vespucius a
world; Galileo and Vico, Volta and Galvani, science;
elli the philosophy of government; Dante and
l, Tasso and Alfieri, poetry; Justinian, laws;
malfi, Pisa, Florence, and Venice, republican in-
ons; Michael Angelo, Raphael, Titian, and Da
arts. So, too, when Europe required regeneration,
“Niobe of nations”—still asserted her pre-
rogative, and sent forth one of her own children to open a
And so for 2,500 years the fountain of empire has been
welling up from the seven hills. There was thesemblance
th in the solemn epithet which we usually ascribe to
vanity of its citizens–Rome was and is still the
Eternal City. . ----- - - - - - . .



















6 THE ISLAND OF CORSICA.
VII.
From the castle-crowned hills above the terraced gar-
dens of Genoa, the purple summits of Corsica can be seen,
on a clear Italian morning, rising out of the sea. Solitary,
grand, and beautiful, it seems a fitting birth-place for one
who was to overshadow the world, and die at last like a
wounded eagle on another lone island of the ocean.
Geographically and ethnologically, Corsica belongs to
Italy. It was probably first peopled from its neighbour-
ing shores, and the inhabitants still speak a dialect so
much like the Tuscan that they can be readily understood
in every part of Italy. xx
VIII.
The earliest mention of Corsica is found in Herodotus.
The Romans invaded the island, and wrested it from the
Carthagenians, in the first Punic war. Once subjected to
Rome, it remained her province, during the Common-
wealth and under the Caesars, till it yielded, from its ex-
posed situation, to the first shock of the barbarians in the
beginning of the fifth century of the Christian era. It
subsequently passed under the dominion of the Byzantine
emperors, it became the prey of the Goths, and it fell be-
fore the irresistible onset of the followers of the Arabian
prophet (A.D.850). It yielded afterwards to Pisa, then
the powerful rival of Genoa and Venice, and finally be-
came a dependency of the Ligurian Republic (A.D. 1284),
which resumed its ancient independence after the fall of
the Roman empire, repelled all the assaults of the barba-
rians, went gloriously through the Crusades, became the
most formidable maritime power in Europe, sent out the
discoverer of a new world, preserved republican institutions
1400 years, and was betrayed at last by the perfidy of
an English commander, %


THE ISLAND of CoRSICA. 7
IX.
Corsica had long excited the ambition of the French
monarchs. It was invaded in 1767, and two years later,
y cession from the Genoese, it passed reluctantly under
the dominion of France. The lover of historic romance
and chivalric adventure will read with delight the stirring
story of the noble struggles of the patriot Paoli to rescue
his native island from the French invaders,
Corsica. is nearly the size of Connecticut. Thrown up
by some pre-Adamic convulsion, and bathed by the Medi-
t , refreshed by the cool breezes of the Alps and
Apennines, and warmed by a southern sun, with moun-
tain peaks (8-9000 feet) clothed in eternal snows, and
valle lushing in endless summer, it is one of the
wil spots in the world. .



8 CARLo BONAPARTE.
. #.
CARLO BONAPARTE.
Bor at Ajaccio, March 29th, 1746—died at Montpelier, 1785.
THE family of Carlo Bonaparte held a high rank in
Corsica. They had been long settled in Tuscany, where
they became distinguished for the part they took with
the Ghibelines in their ferocious feuds with the Guelphs,
which so long desolated Italy. On the dispersion of the
family, one of the members settled in Corsica, and from
him Napoleon was directly descended. It is also satis-
factorily established that the Tuscan Bonapartes had
emigrated from Rome at an early period; and no phy
isiognomist can look carefully on Napoleon's face without
sing the patrician Roman model, by which we
he blending of the Roman with the Greek. The
further the scholar here extends his researches, the more
he will be inclined to concede an original Greek origin to
the Bonaparte family. Traces are not wanting of their
political eminence in the middle ages. They were sena-
tors in the republics of Florence, Sarzana, Bologna, and
Treviso, and prelates at the Court of the Vatican. They
had become allied by marriage with the princely families
of the Medici, Orsini, and Lamellini. .
XI.
Some of the Bonapartes also became distinguished for
their contributions to learning at the period of the re-
vival of letters. In the Bibliothèque du Roi the Pari-
sians still boast of possessing the original MS. of a dra-






CHARLES BON A PARTE.









THE BONAPARTE ANCESTRY. 9
onaparte—who is spoken of by
if the literary stars of the age
member of the family founded,
jurisprudence in the University
--- leon himself entered Bologna,
that ancient seat of in 1796, the Senate sent
him their “Golden Book,” in which the names and arms
of his family were inscribed. The armorial bearings of
some of his ancestors, sculptured in marble, are still
found on several of the Florentine buildings. When
Napoleon had become master of the Peninsula, and was
igh Tuscany, he halted for a few hours, with
welling of Gregorio Bonaparte, the last
o in Italy. The aged Canon of San Miniato, a
rich and venerable man, entertained the victorious cortège
with the good cheer which an Italian monk knows so
well how to provide. The next day Napoleon sent him
t iss of St. Stephen. Soon after, the good abbé died
matic work by Piccolo
Italian authorities as
of the Medici. A
it is said, the chair
of Pisa; and wi
e Cross of St. Steph r
and left his fortune to Napoleon, who presented it to one
of the charities of Tuscany. -
The grandfather of Carlo Bonaparte had three sons—
Joseph, Napoleon, and Lucien. The only son of the first
was Carlo—the only child of the second was a daughter
—the third was a priest, who died in 1791, Archdeacon
of Ajaccio. Carlo thus became the only representative of
his family in Corsica. He was educated at Pisa and
Rome, and received the degree of Doctor of Laws. He
returned home with the graces of youth and eloquence,
He was tall, handsome, learned, and accomplished ; and at
the early age of nineteen he won the heart of Letitia
Ramolini, the descendant of a noble Neapolitan family,
on the island. She was distinguished for her eminent
beauty, her great intelligence, and her indomitable
#

















10 CARLO BONAPARTE.
energy. When the war broke out between France and
Corsica in 1768, he gave his services to Paoli, in a zealous
defence of the independence of his country. The occupa-
tion of Ajaccio by the French troops drove the Bonaparte
family to the centre of the island, where Carlo, in follow-
ing the fortunes of Paoli, held out till his patriot leader
was obliged to fly. Carlo accompanied him to Porto
Vecchio, and his youthful enthusiasm tempted him for a
moment to embark with him. . ...;
XIII.
But Corsica yielded to the French king, and was at
once incorporated into the domain of Louis. The magis-
tracy of the island was vested in the provincial states,
and the honour of the twelve nobles was confirmed. The
nobility of Carlo's family and his own position and popu-
larity gave him a prominent place in the Government.
He was appointed assessor to the tribunal of Ajaccio, and
swayed great influence in the councils of the island.
In 1779 he was appointed by his colleagues deputy
for the nobles at Paris. He took Joseph and Napoleon,
his two sons, with him. He left Joseph, the elder, at the
school of Autun, and placed Napoleon in the military
academy at Brienne, having obtained the appointment
through the favour of his friend, the Count Marboeuf, the
Governor of Corsica. ..
XIV.
It should have been said that, while Carlo was passing
through Florence on his way to Paris, he received from
the Grand Duke Leopold a letter to his sister, Marie
Antoinette, Queen of France, and he became a guest at
the palace of Versailles, from whose gilded walls poor
Marie herself was afterwards to fly by night in terror
from the mob, and where, had Carlo lived a few years

DEATH OF NAPOLEON'S FATHER. I 1.
longer, he would have been the guest of his son, the
Emperor, jº -> -
In the year 1785, at the early age of 38, and the
father of a race of kings, Carlo died at Montpelier, in
France, whither he had resorted for medical aid. But his
disease (a cancer in the stomach, often hereditary in
families, and which was to prove fatal to Napoleon him-
self) baffled the skill of his physicians,
XV.
Napoleon, at St. Helena, gave the following account of
his father's death : “I was quietly pursuing my studies
at Brienne when my father arrived at Montpelier, to
struggle with the violence of a painful agony. He died,
and I had not the consolation to close his eyes.” The
mother of Junot's wife, a gentle and high-bred woman,
and a companion in girlhood of Letitia Ramolini, offered
the hospitality of her house to the dying man, and he
breathed his last, not at a strange inn, but under the kind
roof of a countrywoman, ministered to in his last illness
by the filial attentions of his eldest son, and the consola-
tions of the brother of his wife (afterwards Cardinal Fesch).
He recommended to her earnestly his son Napoleon, who
had just left Brienne for the Military School at Paris. So
faithfully did she fulfil the bequest that, years afterwards,
Napoleon offered and pressed upon her his hand in mar-
riage, notwithstanding the disparity of their ages. ~
After Napoleon had become First Consul, the city of
Montpelier asked his permission to erect a monument to
his father. With many thanks he declined the request.
“Let us not disturb,” said he, “the repose of the dead.
Let their ashes remain in peace. Had I lost my father
yesterday, it would be proper and natural to pay his
memory some token of respect consistent with my present
position ; but it is nearly twenty years since his death,
I2 CARLo BONAPARTE.
and it is a matter in which the public can now take no
concern.” - ºš
Louis Bonaparte, however, at a later period, without
the knowledge of his brother, removed the ashes of his
father to St. Leu, on his own estate near Paris, and over
them erected a monument. . .
XVI,
His tomb will in all time to come be worthy of resort
as one of the remarkable places of Europe. If the curious
traveller stops a day to look into the sepulchre where
Rudolf de Hapsburg mouldered to ashes, why should he
not halt an hour to contemplate the tomb of the father of
the Napoleon dynasty? º: . . . . - º


RTÉ:
Aº BONAPA
LEtiti






. xvi.
LETITIA RAMOLINI.
Born at Ajaccio, 24th August, 1750–died at Rome, February 2nd, 1836.
THE mother of Napoleon was worthy of the honour
fortune assigned her, of giving birth to a dynasty of the
people. The sceptres of Europe were held by the degene-
rate descendants of the military chieftains of the middle
ages. They were characterised by the tyranny of their
ancestors without their heroism. The people had got far
beyond them, and they called for a dynasty of progress,
The effete monarchies of a past age they overwhelmed in
the Red Sea of revolution, and Napoleon's empire was
established, . º
§§§ cessions and distinguished .
that Republic. Tetitia's biography should
portraiture of her character sketched by the
begin with
bold hand of her son, Says Napoleon—“Sh the
head of a man on the shoulders of a woman. Left without
a guide or protector, she was obliged to assume the ,
management of affairs, but the burden did not overcome
her. S lministered everything with a degree of
sagacity º:3:::::::::::::::::::::::.. , i.e. … … .
tenderness was joined with severity; she punished, re-
warded all alike; the good, the bad, nothing escaped her.















14 NAPOLEON'S MOTHER.
Losses, privations, fatigue had no effect upon her; she
end Ah, what a woman where look
XIX,
At the death of her husband (1785) away from home,
Signora Letitia, who had only reached her 35th year, had
already become the mother of thirteen children, of whom
five sons and three daughters survived their father. The
order of their birth was as follows: 1, Joseph, born in
1768; 2, Napoleon, in 1769; 3, Lucien, in 1775; 4,
Eliza, in 1777; 5, Louis, in 1778; 6, Pauline, in 1780;
7, Caroline, in 1782; 8, Jerome, in 1784. “Left a widow
at an early age,” says Madame Junot, who was intimate
with the family, “in a country where the head of a
family is everything, the young mother found it necessary
to call up all the energy of her character.” She was
gifted with that delicacy of perception which distin-
guishes the Corsicans. “But with this quality,” says the
Duchess d’Albrantes, who knew her intimately, “she
was habitually candid. Her soul beamed in her looks,
and it was a soul full of the loftiest sentiments. Her
haughtiness, which was not offensive, became dignity,
when elevated to her new situation. She was kind at
heart, but of a cold exterior ; and at the period of which
I speak she was very scrupulous in exacting from every-
body what she considered her due. She was a good
mother. They treated her with every respect, and showed
her assiduous attention. Lucien and Joseph were parti-
cularly attached to her.” .
XX.
Before she had completed her sixteenth year, Letitia
had become a wife. Her native country was now involved
in civil discord and revolution. During the war for



THE BONAPARTES AT CORSICA. 15
Corsican independence she shared the dangers of her hus-
band, frequently accompanying him on horseback in his
expeditions. When the French army entered Corsica,
many of the principal families, and among them the
Bonapartes, were compelled to fly. They assembled at
the foot of Monte Rotondo, the highest mountain in the
island. In their flight, and during their sojourn among
the mountains, they underwent many hardships. This
was in the year 1769; and whenever he had occasion to
speak of the events which preceded his birth, Napoleon
always dwelt with admiration on the courage and mag-
nanimity with which his mother had borne losses and
privations, and braved fatigue and danger.
XXI.
Left a widow in the prime of life, with but little pro-
perty, Signora Letitia devoted herself to the care of her
numerous family.….]oseph, the eldest of her children, was
nearly eighteen years of age, and seconded her efforts
with ardour and paternal affection. Napoleon was pur-
suing his military studies in France. When (1789) he
had returned to Corsica, the whole family were there
assembled and resident with their mother; Lucien and
Eliza having also received their education in France,
Louis, Jerome, Pauline, and Caroline, were still children.
The Archdeacon Lucien, a brother of their father, although
in infirm health, had become chief of the family, and
Watched over their welfare with paternal solicitude. The
young Abbé Fesch, half-brother of Letitia, and who had
attended her husband in his last moments, also resided
with the family.
The education of her four eldest children on the Conti-
ment, and the deputation of her husband to Paris, had
rendered the family entirely French in their character
and political sentiments. Corsica had been declared


I6 NAPOLEON'S MOTHER,
(30th of November, 1789) an integral part of the
monarchy of France; and that declaration, which had
satisfied the islanders generally, had somewhat effaced
from their minds the bitter souvenirs of the conquest.
The revolutionary cause of the Continent was embraced
by the Bonapartes; Joseph entered into public life in the
administration of the Department, while the younger
brothers were preparing to take part in the approaching
contest. .”
XXII. . * ...
In 1792 public opinion in Corsica changed with re-
gard to the French Revolution. Instigated by the
venerable chief, Paoli, the people declared against the
sanguinary republic. Ajaccio was the only town that
had refused, at the command of Paoli, to lower the tri-
colour. The chief had urged the Bonapartes, the sons of
his old companion in the war of independence, to join.
them in a fresh struggle against France. But their feel-
ings, ambition, and interest lay in an opposite direction,
and a separation took place. Paoli and his followers, in
1793, marched on Ajaccio; the three Bonaparte brothers
were absent at this critical time ; but the heroic Letitia,
who had in earlier days followed her husband in scenes of
danger, was fully equal to the task of providing for the
safety of herself and children. She despatched messen-
gers to Joseph and Napoleon by sea and land; and gave
notice that they would soon arrive in the port with the
representatives of the people. She thus succeeded in
paralysing the partisans of Paoli in the town. .
YXIII. .
While waiting for the French fleet, Signora Letitia was
on the point of falling into the hands of her enemies,
Roused suddenly at midnight, she found her chamber
filled with armed mountaineers. She at first thought

LETITIA's FLIGHT FROM coRSICA. 17
herself suprised by the partisans of Pºli ; but by the
light of a fir-torch she saw the countenance of the chief
2
and felt re-assured. It was Costa of Bastelica, the most
devoted of the partisans of France. “Quick make haste,
Signora Letitial” he exclaimed, “Paoli’s men are close on
us. There is not a moment to lose ; but here I am, with
my men. We will serve you, or perish.”.
XXIV,
Bastelica, one of the most populous villages of Corsica,
lies at the foot of Mont d'Oro. Its inhabitants are re-
nowned for their courage and loyalty: one of the villa-
gers had encountered a numerous body of the followers of
Paoli descending on Ajaccio. He had learned that this
troop had orders to take all the Bonaparte family, dead
or alive. He returned to the village and roused their
friends, who, to the number of three hundred, armed, and
preceded their ies by a forced march to Ajaccio.
Signora Letitia and her children rose from their beds,
and, in the centre of the column, left the town in silence
—the inhabitants being still asleep. They penetrated the
deepest recesses of the mountains, and at day-break halted
in a forest, in sight of the sea. Several times the fugi-
tives heard from their encampment the troops of the
enemy in the neighbouring valley, but they escaped the
risk of an encounter. The same day, the flames rising in
dense columns from the town attracted attention. “That
is your house now burning,” said one of her friends to
Letitia. “Ah never mind,” she replied; “we will
build it up again much better. Vive la France ſ”
After two nights' march, the fugitives descried a
French frigate. Letitia took leave of her brave defenders,
and joined Joseph and Napoleon, who were on board the
vessel at Calvi with the French deputies, who had been
sent on a mission to Corsica. # , ..."
# . &
C


18 NAPOLEON's MOTHER,
The frigate turned her prow towards Marseilles, where
she landed the family of exiles, destitute of resources, but
full of health and courage. All the fortitude of Letitia
was called into exercise in these trying circumstances.
She was reduced to poverty, and gratefully received the
rations of bread distributed by the municipality to refugee
patriots. Joseph and Napoleon contributed to the support
of the family from their scanty allowance in the military
service. 3: . .
France was them bleeding under the wounds of a fero-
cious civil war, and threatened with the dangers of
foreign invasion. The principal cities of the Republic
had revolted against the central authority of Paris which
was ruled by the Jacobins, and Marseilles led the rebel-
lion; but the reduction of Lyons, and the vengeance,
inflicted on it, restored the supremacy of Paris, Many
thousands of the inhabitants of Marseilles fled for protec-
tion to Toulon, which had called in the aid of the British
and Spanish fleets to uphold the cause of the Bourbons,
In this general flight, however, the Bonapartes did not.
participate—they belonged to the triumphant party.
This connexion may in some measure be ascribed to
Tucien, who, though a youth, had distinguished himself
as a republican orator and partisan. In his early revo-
lutionary career he greatly promoted the fortunes of the
family; but Joseph, who continued to reside at Marseilles
with his mother, was too mild and unobtrusive to gain
favour with the Jacobins, while Napoleon was yet but an
unknown subaltern. 3
The Abbé Fesch had accompanied his sister in her
exile, and the family incurred the danger of harbouring
a priest, then the most obnoxious of all men to popular
wrath. The abbé, however, prudently discarded his
clerical robes, and sought a safer calling as a keeper of


PROMOTION of NAPOLEON. 19
military stores in the army of General Montesquiow, who,
in the autumn of 1793, overran the country of Savoy,
xxvi,
. The close of 1793 was marked by the capture of
Toulon, the last of the revolted cities which had held out
against the victorious banner of the Republic. That
event revealed to the French nation the genius of Napo-
leon, and elevated him to the rank of General of Brigade.
To his promotion the family of Signora Bonaparte owed
better days. To be near him, while he was stationed at
Nice, the family had established themselves at the Château
Salle, in the environs of Antilees, a few miles from Na-
poleon's head-quarters. He announced one day to Joseph
and Lucien that he must set out for Paris the following
morning, to be in a position to establish all the family
advantageously. He, however, reconsidered the step.
“They offer me,” said Napoleon, “the place of Henriot.
I am to give my answer this evening, Well, what say
you to it?” His brother hesitated a moment. “Eh
eh "rejoined the general; “but it is worth the trouble
of considering. It is not a case to be the enthusiast
upon ; it is not so easy to save one's head at Paris as at
St. Maximin. The young Robespierre is an honest fel-
low, but his brother is not to be trifled with. He will
be obeyed. Can I support that man? No, never ! I
know how useful I should be to him in replacing his
simpleton of a commandant at Paris; but it is what I
will not be. It is not yet time; there is no place honour.
able for me at present but the army. We must have
patience, I shall command Paris hereafter.” º
“Such,” says Lucien, “were the words of Napoleon. He
then expressed to us his indignation against the Reign of
Terror, of which he announced the approaching downfal.
The young Robespierre solicited him in vain. A few

20 + NAPOLEON'S MOTHER,
weeks after, the 9th Thermidor arrived to deliver France,
and justify the foresight of the general.”
XXVII.
Notwithstanding his refusal to identify himself with
Robespierre, Napoleon, on whom the fortunes of the
Bonaparte family depended, was involved in the downfal
of that tyrant ; and after the 9th Thermidor (27th of
July, 1794), he was arrested as an adherent and partisan
of Robespierre. He was restored to liberty in a few
days; but his release was followed by the loss of his
position in the army, and he went to Paris to solicit
restoration and employment. His brothers shared in the
reverses of the moment. Joseph retired to Genoa, and
Lucien suffered incarceration in the prison of Aix for
six weeks. Proscription was now the lot of the Bona-
partes, in addition to the poverty from which they had
partially emerged, but into which they were now again
plunged. In this extremity of their fortunes, Joseph
became the prop and support of the family. His mar-
riage with the daughter of a wealthy merchant of Mar-
seilles raised him to affluence, and gave him a position
which enabled him to be of essential benefit to his mother,
and the children still remaining with her. º
Signora Letitia continued to reside at Marseilles, with
her family, till Napoleon's marriage (1796), and appoint-
ment to the command of the army of Italy. He at once
assigned to his mother a portion of his income, by which
she was raised from a state of comparative indigence to
one of ease and comfort. Louis having entered the army
at the early age of seventeen, Jerome alone of all the
sons remained with his mother, whose household was
further reduced in 1797 by the marriage of her eldest
daughter - º
About this period, Signora Letitia visited Corsica, and,

LETITIA on THE 18TH BRUMAIRE, 21.
returning to Marseilles, finally removed with her family
to Paris, in 1799, where she took up her residence with
her son Joseph. The family of Lucien were also in Paris
at this time, when Napoleon unexpectedly returned from
Egypt. . .” x-
...’ XXVIII.
When the revolution of the 18th Brumaire (9th No-
vember, 1799) took place, Paris had been violently agitated
for some days. All were apprehensive of some decisive
event, without knowing the cause of their disquiet. The
Duchess d'Albrantes thus describes her visit to Signora
Letitia, on whom she called after the affair was nearly
over; “She appeared calm, though far from being easy,
for her extreme paleness and the convulsive movement
she evinced whenever an unexpected noise met her ear,
gave her features a ghastly air. In these moments she
appeared to me truly like the mother of the Gracchi. She
had three sons under the stroke of fate, one of whom would
probably receive the blow, even if the others escaped.
This she felt most forcibly. My mother and myself
remained with her a part of that tantalising day : and
only quitted her on the restoration of her confidence by
Lucien’s messengers, who were frequently sent to calm
her disquiet. The danger to which the Bonaparte family
was exposed might have been even imminent on the
night of the 18th or 19th. If the Directory and the
Councils had triumphed, all Bonaparte's brothers would
have followed him to the scaffold; and their friends and
partisans would have been exiled, to say the least.”
XXIX,
After the revolution which placed Napoleon at the
head of the consular government, Madame Letitia lived
very retired in Paris—a manner of life which was equally

22. NAPOLEON's MOTHER,
in accordance with her own taste and the wishes of the
First Consul, who was desirous that for a time his female
relatives should make no display. From the trials and
misfortunes to which she had been exposed, Letitia, who
was naturally provident, had acquired habits of severe
economy, and she always condemned superfluous expendi-
ture on the part of her children. She entertained little
fondness for her daughter-in-law, Josephine, preferring
the society and familiarity of the wives of Joseph and
Lucien. She took part with Lucien in his quarrel with
: Napoleon, and, greatly to the chagrin of the latter, fol-
lowed the family of Lucien to Rome, in 1805. When
upbraided by Napoleon with an undue partiality for
Lucien, she answered that an unfortunate son would
always be the most dear to her, which she proved after-
wards by a memorable devotion to himself. Shortly
after the creation of the Empire, however, she was
induced to return to Paris, whither Napoleon invited her
by tender solicitations, and offers of a splendid establish-
ment. The Emperor settled upon her an annual income
of a million francs (200,000 dollars), assigned her a
separate court, and gave her the title of Madame Mère,
equivalent to that of Empress Mother. She took up her
residence in the sumptuously-furnished mansion which
had been occupied by Lucien, but she was far from main-
taining the princely state and hospitality which had dis-
tinguished her banished son in his days of prosperity and
power. She always adhered to the economical habits she
had formed in adversity, not from an ignoble love of
gold, but from a dread she could never discard, that
poverty and want might again become the portion of the
family, and that her savings might be wanted in the hour
of calamity. It would be unjust not to add that Madame
Tetitia took delight in offices of kindness, Often called
on to solicit from her son favours for others, she was
happy when her exertions were crowned with success.
LETITIA's DEVOTiON To HER SON. 23
On the approach of the Allies towards Paris, in April,
1814, Madame Mère accompanied the Empress Maria
Louisa and her court to Blois. Her wonted prudence and
prescience did not forsake her, for on this occasion she
took care to receive her arrears of allowance (375,000
francs), and dismissed the greater part of her attendants.
By the treaty of Paris, in 1814, she was allowed to
retain the title of “Madame Mère,” and an annuity of
200,000 francs, secured on the great book of France, was
Settled upon her. In August of the same year, attended
by two maids of honour, and her chamberlain, she followed
her son to Elba, and presided on the 15th at a ball given
in honour of his birth-day. After the return of Napoleon
from Elba, Madame Letitia repaired to Rome, where she
took up her residence for her remaining days. Immedi-
ately after the overthrow of Napoleon at Waterloo, she
proffered him all she possessed in the world to assist him
in restoring his fortunes. “And for me,” said Napoleon,
at St. Helena, “she would, without a murmur, have doomed
herself to live on black bread. Loftiness of sentiment
still reigned paramount in her breast , pride and noble
ambition were not subdued by avarice.”
Count Las Casas, on his return to Europe from St.
Helena, witnessed the truth of Napoleon's remarks. No
sooner had he detailed his story of the Emperor's situation
than the answer returned by the courier was, that “her
whole fortune was at her son's disposal.” . …
- . XXXI, ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In October, 1818, she addressed an affecting appeal in
his behalf to the Allied Sovereigns assembled at Aix-la-
Chapelle. “Sires,” she wrote, “I am a mother, and my
son's life is dearer to me than my own. In the name of
Him whose essence is goodness, and of whom your im-


perial and royal majesties are the image, I intreat you to
put a period to his misery, and to restore him to liberty.
For this I implore God, and I implore you who are his
vicegerents on earth, Reasons of state have their limits,
and posterity, which gives immortality, adores above all
things the generosity of conquerors.”
And in 1819, Napoleon having expressed his determi-
nation, whatever might be the extremity of his case, not
to permit the visits of an English physician, and his
desire to have the company of a Catholic priest, she
cheerfully defrayed the expense of a mission to St.
Helena, selected by Cardinal Fesch, with the approval of
the Pope, consisting of Dr. Antommarchi, Father Bona-
vita, and Abbé Vignali.
XXXII. - . . . . . . . . . .
Madame Letitia continued to reside at Rome, with her
brother Cardinal Fesch, in the Palazzo Falconnieri, until
her death, which took place on the 2nd of February,
1836, at the advanced age of eighty-six years. She occu-
pied an extensive suite of apartments in the palace of her
brother, which were handsomely furnished, and with more
attention to neatness and comfort than is common in
Italy. Her establishment was splendid, but private and
unostentatious. She led a very retired life, in her de-
clining years, amid the social circle of her children and a
few intimate friends, and dispensing charities to the poor.
She retained marks of her former beauty after she had
reached her eightieth year. Canova's magnificent bust of
her strikingly resembles the original. Her children and
descendants were unwearied in their attentions to her to
the last, and she died, as she had lived, a zealous devotee
of the Catholic faith.
She is buried in Rome, and her dust has mingled with,
the imperial soil which holds the ashes of the mother of
the Gracchi, and half the heroes of the earth.




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CARDIN AL FESC, H.









. CARDINAL FESCH.
Born at Ajaccio, January 3rd, 17 63—died at Rome, May 13th, 1839, :
THE maternal uncle of Napoleon, Cardinal Fesch, was
the son of Francis Fesch, by the mother of Letitia Ramo-
lini, who, after the death of her first husband, contracted
a second marriage with a captain in one of the Swiss
regiments in the service of France, then garrisoned in
Corsica, Captain Fesch was a native of Basle, in Switzer-
land, and a Protestant ; but adopted the Catholic faith
to win the hand of the beautiful widow Ramolini.
Joseph Fesch, afterwards Cardinal, remained in his
native place till his thirteenth year, when he was sent to
the college of Aix, in France, where he stayed till 1789,
when he was nominated by the Pope Archdeacon of the
cathedral of Ajaccio, an office which had become vacani
by the resignation of Lucien Bonaparte, the great-ul
of Napoleon. At this time, and for many years after-
ward, the Abbé Fesch resided in the family of his sister,
Letitia Bonaparte, whose husband he had accompanied on
a journey to France in a futile search for health, and
whom he had attended in his last hours.
Between the Abbé Fesch and his relatives of the
Bonaparte family there appears always to have been the
most affectionate regard and mutual attachment. Pro-
scribed in Corsica by the partisans of Paoli, with the
other members of the Bonaparte family, the Abbé was
compelled to leave his church and flock at Ajaccio. Fly.
ing with his sister and her children from the island, the
exiles took up their residence at Marseilles. His sympa-



26 CARDINAL FESCH.
thies, like those of all his relatives, being in favour of
republican principles, Fesch withdrew from his clerical
profession, which was proscribed during the Reign of
Terror in France, and entered as a keeper of stores in
the army of Montesquiow in Savoy. In 1796 he became
commissary-general in the army of Italy, under his nephew
Napoleon. In that capacity he was believed to have
acquired a considerable fortune.
XXXIV.
When Napoleon became First Consul (1799), Fesch
resumed the clerical profession, and after the Concordat
with the Pope (July, 1801) he was appointed Archbishop
of Lyons, being consecrated by the Cardinal Legate in
person (15th of August, 1802). * s
The Concordat is the name given to any formal agree-
ment between the Pope of Rome and a foreign Govern-
ment, by which the ecclesiastical discipline of the Catholic
clergy, and the management of the Churches and benefices
within the territory of that Government, are regulated.
Concordats have been made between the Pope and the
sovereigns of France and other European nations at
different periods, but have become most frequent since
the middle of the eighteenth century, an epoch from
which the European Catholic Governments have made
themselves more independent of the ecclesiastical power;
and the Popes have been for the most part men of an
enlightened and conciliatory spirit. But the most cele-
brated Concordat in history is that now referred to,
agreed upon between Cardinal Gonsalvi, in the name of
Pius VII, and Joseph Bonaparte, on the part of the
First Consul and Government of France, in 1801. The
Pope made several concessions, seldom, if ever, granted
by his predecessors. He suppressed many bishoprics,
Sanctioned the sale of Church property which had taken

THE concordAT. .” 27
place, superseded all bishops who had refused to take the
oath to the Republic and consented that the First Consul
should appoint the bishops, subject to the approbation of
the Pontiff. The clergy became subject to the civil power,
like laymen. All immunities, ecclesiastical courts, and
jurisdictions, were abolished, and the regulations of public
worship were placed under the control of the secular au-
thorities. This Concordat restored the Roman Catholic re-
ligion in France; and on the stipulations agreed on, it was
proclaimed, on the part of the French Government, that
the Catholic religion was that of a majority of Frenchmen;
that its worship should be free, public, and protected by
the authorities, but under such regulations as the civil
power should think proper to prescribe for the sake of
public tranquillity; that its clergy should be provided for
by the State; that the cathedrals and parish churches
should be restored to them. The total abolition of con-
vents was also confirmed. This Concordat was not agreed
to by the Pope without some scruples, nor without much
opposition from several of the theologians and canonists
of the court of Rome. But considering the situation of
France, where so many of the Catholic churches had been
closed during the Revolution, and the persecutions to
which the clergy had been subjected for years, they sub-
mitted to circumstances, and accepted the terms of the
Concordat as a boom from the First Consul, whose power
and influence alone could have carried it into effect
against the discontent and opposition of the infidel
portion of the people, still strong in numbers, power, and
influence, :
. XXXV, *
On Easter Sunday, 1802, the Concordat was published
at Paris, with a decree of regulations on matters of dis-
cipline, which were so drawn as to appear a part of the
original Concordat. The regulations were, that no bull,


28 - CARDINAL FESCH.

brief, or decision from Rome, should be acknowledged in
France without the previous approbation of the Govern-
ment; no nuncio or apostolic commissioner to appear in
France, and no council to be held, without a similar con-
sent ; appeals against abuses to be laid before the Council
of State; professors of seminaries to subscribe to the four.
articles of the Gallican Church of 1682; no priest to be
ordained unless over twenty-five years of age; and lastly,
that the grand vicars of the respective dioceses should
exercise the episcopal authority after the demise of the
bishop till the election of his successor, instead of vicars
elected ad hoc by the respective chapters, as prescribed by
the Council of Trent. This last article grieved most the
court of Rome, as it affected the spiritual jurisdiction of
the Church. The Pope made remonstrances, to which the
First Consul turned a deaf ear.
- Regulations were issued at the same time, concerning
the discipline of the Protestant Churches in France. The
Protestant clergy were also paid by the State. -
XXXVI.
On the occasion of the solemn promulgation of the
Concordat in the Cathedral of Notre Dame, the Arch-
bishop of Aix officiated, and the First Consul attended
in full state. The old generals of the Republic had been
invited by Marshal Berthier in the morning to attend the
levee of the First Consul, who took them unawares with
him to Notre Dame. The observation of religious cere-
monies, and attendance on public worship, soon became
fashionable in Paris and other parts of France; and the
restoration of the Catholic faith, as a religion of state,
was confirmed. Napoleon said, at St. Helena, that he
never repented having signed the Concordat; that it was
a great political measure; that it gave him influence over
the Pope, and through him over a great part of the world,
EMBASSY TO ROME. 29
and especially Italy; and that he might have ended by º
directing the Pope's councils altogether.
In the arrangements of the Concordat, Fesch cordially, -
concurred, zealously co-operating with his nephew in his
efforts to re-establish the Catholic religion. On the 17th
of January, 1803, he received from Pope Pius VII, the
appointment of Cardinal, and soon afterwards Was sent
by Napoleon ambassador to the court of Rome, where he
was received with marked distinction.
. - XXXVII.” - - -:
The Wiscount de Chateaubriand accompanied the car-
dinal as first secretary to the embassy. During his resi-
dence at Rome, Fesch gave concerts in his palace, even in
Lent, to which he invited his colleagues of the Sacred
College; but in consequence of a special regulation, and
an intimation from La Samaglia, the Cardinal Vicar,
the cardinals declined these invitations. When Napoleon
had restored his uncle to the clerical profession, at the
time of the general restoration of the priesthood, he
would only do so on condition of exemplary conduct; for
while commissary of war for Italy, no one, judging from
his manner of life, would have taken M. Fesch to be a
minister of religion. Returning to his first profession,
where his powerful relationship warranted him in hoping
the first rank and influence in the Church, the Abbé,
with a rare moral resolution, altered his manners, dis-
guised his habits, and presented in a seminary the spec-
tacle of an edifying penitence. We have noticed the
rapidity of his advancement in honours and preferment.
When he had received the archbishopric of Lyons, which
had been kept vacant for him, and a cardinal's hat, he
showed himself, in the opinion of some, not the supporter
of Napoleon, but rather his antagonist in the Church; and
it was suspected that he intended some day to compel a
… . "


30 CARDINAL FESCH,
nephew to whom he owed everything to be dependent
upon an uncle who was supported by the secret ill-will
of the clergy. Napoleon had complained of what he
thought a new instance of family ingratitude; and M.
Portalis, one of his counsellors, had advised him to rid
himself of that uncle by sending him to Rome. “There,”
said M. Portalis, “he will have enough to do with the
pride and prejudices of the Roman court, and he will
employ the faults of his disposition to your service, instead
of your injury.” It was to this end, and not for the
purpose of some day making him Pope, as was pretended
at the time, that Napoleon accredited Cardinal Fesch to
the court of Rome, . .
xxxviii.
In the autumn of 1804, the cardinal accompanied Pius
VII. to Paris, to assist at the coronation of Napoleon and
Josephine. He had already been employed in negotia-
tions necessary to overcome the scruples of the Pope and
his cardinals, in inducing the head of the Catholic Church
to accept the invitation of Napoleon to undertake the
journey over the Alps, at an inclement season. The
restoration of the Catholic Church in France had given
Napoleon peculiar claims on the court of Rome; and after
consulting with the cardinals, Pius gave his consent, and
arrangements were made for his journey. The negotia-
tions had been conducted in private; but although the
secret had been well kept by Cardinal Fesch, the news
from Paris, and some inevitable indiscretions of the agents
of the Holy See, caused the negotiations to be divulged,
and the prelates and diplomatists of the court of Rome
indulged in censures and sarcasms. Pius VII, was styled
the Chaplain of the Emperor of the French; for that Em-
peror, standing in need of the ministry of the Pope, had
not come to Rome, as Charlemagne, Otho, Barbarossa, and

THE POPE's Journey To PARIs. 31.
Charles V. of the olden times. He had summoned the
Pope to his palace in France. -------->
The negotiations at Paris were conducted by the Pope's
Legate, Cardinal Caprara. In his despatches to Rome he
described what was passing in France, the good to be ac-
complished there by the Pope's visit ; and he positively
affirmed that the Emperor's invitation could not be refused
but with the greatest perils, and that the Pope would
derive only satisfaction from his journey. The Pope had
his cardinals enlightened by the letters of the legate, and,
urged by Cardinal Fesch, finally consented; and it was
settled that the Pontiff should start from Rome the 2nd
and reach Fontainbleau the 27th of November.
As soon as the consent of the court of Rome was obtained,
Cardinal Fesch declared that the Emperor would defray
all the expenses of the journey ; and he further made
known the details of the magnificent reception in prepara-
tion for the head of the Catholic Church. He desired that
twelve cardinals, beside the Secretary of State, Gonsalvi,
should accompany the Pope; he also wished, contrary to
the established custom, by which the cardinals take pre-
cedence in the order of seniority, to have the first place in
the pontifical carriage, in quality of ambassador, grand
almoner, and uncle to the Emperor. -
Pius VII, yielded some points, but was inflexible in the
number of cardinals, and the attendance of the Secretary
of State. Imagining his health worse than it really was,
and mistaking the nervous agitation into which he was
thrown for a dangerous illness, he thought it very likely
he might die on his journey. He also feared that some
advantage might be taken of his presence in France.
With this apprehension, therefore, he had drawn up and
signed his abdication, and placed it in the hands of Car-
dinal Gonsalvi, that he might be able to declare the pon-
tificate vacant. In the event of his death or abdication,



32 CARDINAL FESCH.
it would be requisite to convoke the Sacred College to
appoint his successor; and it was necessary, therefore, to
have as many cardinals as possible at Rome, among others
Gonsalvi, who was best qualified to guide the Church in
such an exigency. The Pope wished also to prove to the
Court of Austria that he would not, as he had promised,
treat with Napoleon upon any question foreign to the
French Church, by not taking with him to Paris Cardi-
nal Gonsalvi, the man by whom all the important business
of the Roman court was transacted.
For these reasons Pius refused to be attended by more
than six cardinals, and the Secretary of State remained
at Rome. He yielded to the personal pretensions of
Cardinal Fesch, who was to occupy the first place from
their arrival in France, ;:
XXXIX,
Having confided all necessary powers to Cardinal Gon-
salvi, the Pope (the morning of the 2nd of November),
went to the altar of St. Peter, and knelt for some time,
surrounded by the cardinals, the nobles, and the people of
Rome. On his knees he offered up a fervent prayer, as
though about to brave imminent perils. From the tomb
of the apostle he entered his carriage, and the cortège
took the road towards Paris. The people followed his
carriage for a long time, weeping. He traversed the
Roman States and Tuscany, along roads lined by kneeling
multitudes. At Florence he was received by the Queen
Regent of Etruria with due honours, and began to re-
cover from his anxieties. Thence he was conducted by
Piacenza, Parma, and Turin, through Piedmont to the
Alps, which he crossed in safety. Extraordinary precau-
tions had been taken to render the journey safe and com-
fortable to himself and the aged cardinals who accompanied
him, Officers of the imperial palace provided everything


THE POPE IN PARIs. 33
with zeal and magnificence. Descending the Alps, he
reached Lyons, where his alarm was changed into positive
delight. The crowds of people who had assembled from
the surrounding countr ..) lcomed the head of the Catholic
Church with veneration. He now perceived that Cardinal
Caprara spoke truly when he told him that his journey
would be beneficial to religion, and prove a source of infi-
nite gratification to himself. Receiving at Lyons a letter
of thanks from the Emperor, the Pope hastened on to-
wards Paris, Napoleon met him (25th November) near
Fontainbleau, and, cordially embracing him, the two sove-
reigns entered the imperial carriage for the favourite
retreat of the Emperor. At the entrance to the palace,
the Empress, the court, and the chiefs of the army, were
arranged in a circle to receive the Pontiff and offer him
their homage. Accustomed as he was to the imposing
ceremonies of Rome, he had never, before gazed on so
magnificent a scene. He was conducted to the apart-
ments prepared for him, and, after some hours of repose,
received with cordiality the presentations of the court,
He concéived an affection for Napoleon, which, through
many vicissitudes, he cherished to the close of his life. On
his reception at Fontainbleau, he was filled with emo-
|tion—he could not repress the joy of a welcome which to
him seemed only the triumph of religion. . %
XL.
The 28th of November, by the side of the Emperor the
Pontiffentered Paris, in the midst of every demonstration
of love and reverence. He was conducted to the Palace of
the Tuileries, where he was installed with the sovereign
honours of the Empire. He often went on the balcony of
the Tuileries, accompanied by Napoleon, where he was
Saluted by joyous acclamations. He looked on the people
of Paris—that people who had been the actors of the





34 * CARDINAL FESCH.
ferocious scenes of the Revolution, and inaugurated the
goddess of Reason. They knelt before him, and received
the pontifical benediction. It is not strange that, when
Protestant Europe heard the news, there was a general,
exclamation, Catholicism is far better than no religion.
The coronation was celebrated on Sunday, the 2nd of
December, 1804. The evening previous, the Empress
Josephine, who had found favour with the Pope, sought an
interview with him, and declared that she had only been
civilly married to Napoleon, as at the time of their nup-
tials religious ceremonies had been abolished. The Pope,
scandalised by a situation which in the eyes of the Church
was mere concubimage, declared to Napoleon that he
could not by crowning Josephine give the divine conse-
cration to the peculiar state in which they had lived.
Napoleon, fearing to offend the Pope, whom he knew to
be inflexible in matters of faith, and, moreover, unwilling
to alter the programme which had been published, con-
sented to receive the nuptial benediction. Josephine,
sharply reprimanded by her husband, but delighted with
her success, received, the very night preceding the corona-
tion, the sacrament of marriage in the chapel of the Tuile-
ries. Cardinal Fesch, with M. Talleyrand and Marshal
Berthier for witnesses, and with profound secresy, married
the Emperor and Empress. The secret was faithfully
kept till the divorce of Josephine. r
XLI.
Having received from the Emperor the appointment of
Grand Almoner of France, Cardinal Fesch took up his
residence in Paris. In February, 1805, he was invested
by the Emperor with the grand cordon of the Legion of
Honour, having been chosen by the Electoral College of
Lot a member of the Senate. Decorated in July of
the same year with the order of the Golden Fleece,
%

Joseph INE’s Divorce. - 35
by the King of Spain, the cardinal, in 1806, was by Dal-
berg, Elector of Mayence, Arch-chancellor of the German
Empire, and afterwards Prince Primate of the Confedera-
tion of the Rhine, nominated as his colleague, and destined
to be his successor. Napoleon refused his sanction to
this nomination, and afterwards appointed in his place,
for the German dignity, Eugene Beauharnais, with the
title of Grand Duke of Frankfort. The 31st January,
1809, Napoleon nominated Cardinal Fesch to the high
ecclesiastical station of Archbishop of Paris; but for
reasons connected with the discussions which had for some
time been going on between the Emperor and the Pope,
he thought it his duty to decline the appointment.
Elected President of the Sacred Council of Paris in 1810,
the firmness with which he opposed some of the acts of
Napoleon, particularly his violent treatment of Pius VII.,
excited general astonishment. This honourable conduct,
however, while it gained for him the esteem of the wise
and virtuous, prejudiced his own interests. When the
divorce of Josephine was agitated, Napoleon was very
angry with Cardinal Fesch for having divulged the secret
of the religious consecration which had been given to his
marriage, on the eve of their coronation, in 1804. The
Emperor said that the ceremony performed without wit-
nesses, in the chapel of the Tuileries, was invalid; that it
had taken place solely to quiet the Pope's conscience; and
that to think of raising such an obstacle against him at
hat moment (Nov., 1809) was perfidious on the part of
his uncle. -
XLII.
It was settled, however, that as soon as there was no
more need of secresy the Arch-chancellor (Cambacéres)
should assemble several bishops, and invent some means
ºf dissolving the spiritual union, without having recourse


















36 CARDINAL FESCH,
to the Pope, from whom nothing was to be expected
under the circumstances, Canonical proceedings were
therefore instituted before the diocesan court, to obtain
the annulment of the religious marriage between Napoleon
and Josephine. Cardinal Fesch, and Messrs. Talleyrand,
Berthier, and Duroc, were heard as witnesses; the cardinal
as to the forms observed, the others as to the consent
given by the parties. Cardinal Fesch declared that he
had received from the Pope a dispensation for waiving
certain forms in the execution of his duties as grand
almoner, which in his opinion justified the absence of
witnesses and a curé. As to the title, he affirmed its ex-
istence, and thus rendered useless the precaution which
had been taken to withdraw from Josephine's hands the
certificate of marriage, which her children had with much
difficulty obtained from her. Talleyrand, Berthier, and
Duroc affirmed that Napoleon had repeatedly told them
that he had consented only to a mere ceremony to satisfy
the conscience of Josephine and the Pope; but that his
formalintention at all times had been not to complete his
union with the Empress, being unhappily certain he
should soon be obliged to renounce her for the interests
of his Empire. . -
The decision of the ecclesiastical authority was, that
there had not been sufficient consent—that there had been
no witnesses, and no proper priest—that is to say, no parish
clergyman—a minister accredited by the Catholic religion
to impart validity to a marriage. It declared that the
dispensation granted to Cardinal Fesch, in a general man-
ner as grand almoner, could not have conferred on him
the curial functions; and consequently the marriage was
null, through the defect of the most essential forms. The
marriage was therefore broken, before both the diocesan
and the metropolitan jurisdiction, with the full observance
of the canon law. At the marriage (in April, 1810) of


RETIREMENT TO ROME. 37
Napoleon with Maria Louisa, however, Cardinal Fesch
gave the nuptial benediction. ‘. .
Having fallen into disfavour at the court of Napoleon,
Cardinal Fesch retired to his see at Lyons, where he pur-
chased and furnished with great splendour the magnificent
edifice which formerly belonged to the Carthusians, where
he resided till the advance of the Austrians towards
Lyons, in January, 1814. Dissatisfied with the Lyonese,
who, he said, “had not the sense to defend themselves.”
he withdrew from his see, and after various changes of
place, and narrowly escaping capture by the Austrians,
arrived on Easter-day, at Orleans, whence, with his sister,
Madame Letitia, he took the road to Rome, where his
recent fatigues were soon forgotten in the kind recep-
tion he met with from his old friend, Pius VII.
The cardinal now seemed anxious to live in retirement
at Rome; but on the escape of Napoleon from Elba he
threw open his palace, became unusually cheerful, gave
splendid evening-parties, and openly acknowledged that
he considered his nephew's return to France as the special
work of Tivine Providence. Following Napoleon to
Paris, the cardinal was created a peer of France, only a
fortnight before the Battle of Waterloo. .
|XLIII,
Soon after the Battle of Waterloo, Cardinal Fesch ad-
dressed the following letter to his niece, the Princess
Pauline Borghese. It was intercepted and published in
the Turin Journal In August, 1815 — * ... . .
. r Paris, June 28th, 1815.
Lucien set off yesterday for London, in order to get passports for
the rest of the family. Joseph and also Jerome will wait for their
passports. Lucien has left here his second daughter, who has just
arrived from England, she will set off again in a few days. I foresee
the United States will be the end of the chase. I think you ought to
remain in Italy; but recollect that character is one of the most estima-

38 Ž CARDINAL FESCH.
ble gifts of the Creator, with which he has enriched your family,
Exercise courage, then, and strength of mind, to rise superior to mis-
fortune. Let no economy appear a sacrifice. At this moment we are
all poor. Your mother and brothers embrace you. -
Your affectionate uncle,
CARDINAL FESCH.
On the second return of the Bourbons, and the dispersion
of the Bonaparte family, Cardinal Fesch, in the company
of his sister, once more set out for Rome, where they were
to spend the rest of their days. .
With the same firmness he had once opposed the
measures of Napoleon he disapproved, Fesch refused to
accede to the demand of the Bourbons to resign his arch-
bishopric of Lyons. In this dilemma, the Abbé de Rohan,
a French noble, was appointed Grand Vicar-General of
Lyons, against the will of the cardinal. A papal brief in
1824 prohibited Fesch from the exercise of his spiritual
jurisdiction in that diocese. .
XLIV. .” .
In the possession of great wealth, the cardinal was
liberal in his expenditures in France and at Rome, espe-
cially in objects of art, of which he was a judicious and
munificent patron. His gallery of paintings at Rome
occupied three storeys of his princely palace. The collec-
tion embraced fourteen hundred pictures, and was con-
sidered one of the largest and best in Rome. Besides
many of the first Italian masters, it was singularly rich in
the works of the Flemish and Dutch schools. Some years
before his death, he sold a large part of his paintings, and
by his will divided those remaining between the Vatican
and his relatives, to the latter of whom he left most of his
other property.
Cardinal Fesch died in Rome, May 13, 1839, in his
77th year. As a member of the Sacred College, he had

CHARACTER AND MANNERS. 39
participated in the election of three Popes, viz., Leo XII,
in 1823; Pius VIII, in 1829; Gregory XVI, in 1831.
His funeral was celebrated in the church of San Lorenzo,
in Lucina, and was attended by many of the cardinals,
and upwards of one hundred bishops and archbishops.
In person Cardinal Fesch was corpulent, of middle
height, and in early life handsome ; while his manners
were pleasing and devoid of assumption or arrogance.
Though considered by many vain and ambitious, there
was nothingstern or intolerant about him, and to strangers
he was particularly liberal and affable. During a large
portion of his career his influence in the Church of Rome
was very great, enabling him to be of essential service to
the Bonaparte family, and, notwithstanding his occasional
differences with Napoleon, showing his uniform attachment
to them in prosperity and adversity. Zealously devoted
to the interests of Napoleon, we have seen that he did not
hesitate to withhold his approval of those great errors of
the Emperor, the treatment of Pius VII, in his advanced
years, and the repudiation of Josephine, coinciding, doubt-
less, in these respects, with the feelings of Napoleon's best
friends, and a great majority of the French nation.
BOOK II.
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Born at Corsica, August 15th, 1769; died at St. Helena, May 5th, 1821;
buried in the Hotel des Invalides, Paris, Dec. 15th, 1840.
Most of Napoleon's biographers have crowded his
childhood and youth with miracles; but there was nothing
marvellous about it. So far from having displayed any
precocity of genius, he was rather a common-place boy.
The only quality he was distinguished for in his childhood,
on his own confession, was obstimacy. Even after the
siege of Toulon, his mother and the friends of the family
regarded Joseph, his elder brother, as his superior. His
conduct on the 13th Vendémaire (Oct. 4, 1795) was
the first display he had ever made of the elements of true
greatness. He grew up rather slow; and this may ac-
count for the sturdiness of his growth. It has often been
observed that, “late springs produce the greatest plenty.”
The lioness may produce but one whelp at a birth—but it
is a lion; and the oak which defies a thousand whirlwinds
grows slow. º:--&
II. - %.
The first twenty-five years of Napoleon's life he was
growing down; but when he started up, he shot to the
stars. He has titles enough to greatness, without borrow-
ing plumes from the gratuitous bedeckings of prurient
writers. On every subsequent emergency he displayed
capacity for which his contemporaries found no parallel.

· *
QN SU H.,
w
*
BONAPARTE, FIRST






*
NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 41
He outstripped the standard measurements of power in i
all its forms, and distanced competition at every step.
III.
It has often been remarked by superficial authors that .
Napoleon rose at a favourable moment—that events were
waiting for him. It is true; but not in the sense they
understand it. It was a favourable moment for a great
pilot to seize the helm, for the ship was driving on the
rocks; but it took a mighty hand to guide her.
The fiery chariot of Revolution was rolling by, but
every Phaeton who had mounted the flying-car had been
dashed to pieces. It had crushed a thousand leaders in
the dust, and was still careering its lightning way over
the bosom of France. Napoleon sprang to the car, and
drove it whithersoever he listed. His will was too strong
for everything but Omnipotence . He had a great oppor-
tunity, but to attempt to grasp it would have been fatal
to any other man. He reached the shore when it was
strewn with the wreck of a whole mob of great men.
Among them lay the mangled corpse of Robespierre–
that coward demon of the Reign of Terror. This Canute
of a political ocean controlled the waves.
IV, :::: ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::... : ::::::::
In an age of heroes, he became the first of soldiers—in
an age of kings, the only monarch men feared—in a cen-
tury and a country of trappings, and lace, and powder,
the master of the only brilliant court—in an age of a
hundred sovereigns, the only throne-maker. And what-
ever he built he constructed out of chaos. It grew, too,
by the act of his own will, as the wand of the genii
built the palace for Aladdin. His palaces, too, were in-
habited, not by the puling inheritors of Hapsburg
sceptres, but by the great hearts of the people, who
Ž

42 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
lived in the air of liberty and battle, who had trampled
old crowns into the dust, and made new ones more to
their liking—kingdoms cut out of feudal domains by the
only real Damascus blade—heroism --
V.
The traveller who visits Corsica should give a few hours
for a ride to the country villa of the Bonaparte family.
Passing up the lawn where rude peasants now press their
vintage, he will go through the old villa into the garden,
where his ears will ring with the echoes of the gay shouts
of that infantile horde of kings and queens that played
there in their childhood | § ‘. . . . . . . ;
VI.
There is nothing marvellous after all in the spirit of
mythology. Hero-worship is an instinctive sentiment.
The classic lands were peopled by heroes, and history
turned them into divinities. In those days, when all was
so fair and innocent in the garden of the Bonaparte villa.
at Corsica, and the death-flood was submerging France,
there were many groups of infant triflers the world has
never heard of But in this home-nest there was an eagle;
and when he soared, he bore with him his little companions
to the summits of the earth.
So much for heroism. Historians have set these talons
growing too quick, as if there were danger they would not
grow fast and large enough Young Napoleon was not
an extraordinary boy. His boyhood was filled with
moodiness, Solitude, and reflection,
VII,
It was decided that Napoleon should be a soldier; and
in his tenth year he was sent to the military school at
Brienne as a pensioner of the king. He was a poor boy;



NAPOLEON's EDUCATION. 43
and his position often and for many years subjected him.
to the keenest mortification. The school was made up
chiefly of the sons of the proud old noblesse of the realm,
whose ancestry dated from the times of Charlemagne,
They were furnished with all the appliances of luxury,
and they inherited the pride as well as the souvenirs of
their race. Napoleon was prouder than they, and he
seldom mingled with those he so earnestly despised. The
five years he passed at Brienne were made up of solitude,
secret suffering, chagrin, and study. But when his course
was finished, he went through his examination so well, he
was recommended by his masters for admission to the
Royal Military School at Paris, where he came within the
vortex of the Revolution. , %
VIII.
Although his genius alone had given him the passport
to this focal point of rank and refinement to which others
were admitted only by the accident of birth or the favour
of the court, he encountered a still more intolerable and
repelling atmosphere; for while every third boy that
looked on him was a duke from his cradle, the young
Corsican was still a pensioner of the king. It is easy to
imagine how the pride of a boy like Napoleon must have
been stung by the imperious manners of his haughty com-
panions; and what he suffered inflamed in his soul a deep
contempt for mere hereditary rank, and a love for popular
rights. He declaimed violently against the luxury in
which his rich companions were indulged; and he drew the
contrast between their education and the manner in which
the Spartans trained up their sons. His feelings were so
deep on the subject that, on being reproved by an uncle of
the Duchess d'Albrantes for ingratitude as a pensioner of
the king, he furiously broke out with an expression of his
indignation, “Silence!” said the gentleman at whose table


44 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
he was sitting. “It ill becomes you, who are educated by
the king's bounty, to speak as you do.” Those at the table
afterwards said they thought he would have been stifled
with rage. He turned red and pale in an instant, and said,
“I am not educated at the king's expense, but at the
expense of the nation.” He addressed a memorial to the
chief of the school, remonstrating against the luxurious
elegance of the young nobles, and attempted to show that
no men could be fitted for the hardships of military life
without habits of greater independence; that they should
be obliged to clean their own rooms, groom their own
horses, and inure themselves to some of the hardships they
would encounter in war. “If.” said he one day, “I were
Ring of France, I would change this state of things very
quick.” He had the satisfaction of doing this before he
became king.
3% . . . . . . IX,
The three years he spent in the school at Paris decided
his character and history. He was standing by the side
of the crater of the Revolution, and he grew feverish with
its subterranean fires. He was nurturing deep in his soul
the passions and principles that were to guide his life.
He mingled little in Society ; but he saw much of the
people, and took sides irrevocably with the cause of the
nation. This has always been a Bonaparte trait. His
studies were prosecuted with zeal and intensity. He
made such advancement in mathematics that the great
La Place, by whom he was examined for admission to the
army, could not withhold a public expression of his admi-
ration and praise. He read profoundly all the great his-
tories of men and nations; while his closest and deepest
studies were given to Tacitus, that profound master of
political wisdom, and Plutarch, the sculptor of ancient
heroes. The wild and gorgeous poems of Ossian had just
flashed on Europe. Gleaming with the chivalry of an


NAPOLEON's EDUCATION. 45
ideal age, and filled with dim solemn pictures of love,
victory, and death, those wonderful writings became his
favourite poems throughout life. They are filled with
scenes not unlike some in his own history. While he was
scaling the summits of the Great St. Bernard amidst the
desolations of an eternal winter, and when his cannon
waked the echoes of the holy mountains of Judea, that
had once responded to the voice of God, he must have
recalled the awful imagery of Ossian. Thus it was that
his intellectual, social, political, and military character
was formed. His intimacy at this time with the learned
Abbé Raymal contributed materially to his intellectual
progress; and during this period he must have learned
nearly all that he ever knew of books, since his subse-
quent life was passed chiefly in camps, battles, courts, and
cabinets. . .
X. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In August, 1785, he received his first commission in
the army; and he had just completed his 16th year when
he joined the artillery at Valence as second lieutenant.
He now moved more in society, and frequented intimately &
the family of Madame Colombier, an accomplished lady,
to whose daughter he offered his hand in marriage. But
the “penniless lieutenant” was rejected. The girl mar-
ried. Napoleon met her at Lyons after he became
Emperor, and placed her as lady of honour to one of his
sisters, and provided a good place for her husband in the
public service,
But most of his leisure at Valence was devoted to
study, and he competed anonymously for a prize offered
by the Academy of Lyons for the best essay on a thesis
proposed by Raymal, “What institutions are best cal-
culated to promote the highest happiness of a nation?”
Many years later Talleyrand found the successful manu-

46 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. , “.
script and showed it to the Emperor, who glanced over a
page or two and cast it into the fire. º
IHe also meditated a history of the revolutions of hi
native islands, and had nearly prepared a portion of it for
publication (two chapters in manuscript being still in
the possession of the Earl of Asham, of England), which,
after being carefully read by Raynal, he thought worthy of
sending to Mirabeau, who, on returning the manuscript
to Raynal, said that “it indicated a genius of the first
order.” His studies were soon broken by the explosion
of the Revolution. He had been promoted to a first-
lieutenancy, and early in 1792 he became a captain of
artillery. He was in Paris during the terrible summer of
that year, and witnessed the insurrection of June 20, and
the terrible assault on the Tuileries. From one of its
terraces he saw the head of poor Louis crowned with the
cap of liberty by the mob. Fired with indignation, he
said to Bourienne, who was standing at his side, “Why
did they give way to that canaille / I would have blown
five hundred of them into the air, and the rest would
have taken to their heels.” Napoleon always abhorred
anarchy. He said there was no remedy for mobs but
grape-shot. . .
He witnessed also the terrific 10th of August : another.
assault on the palace—the National Guard joining the
insurgents—the royal family flying for refuge to the
National Assembly—the massacre of the Swiss Guards
at their posts—the infernal howlings of a brutal mob
drenched in blood, carrying on pikes the dripping heads
of their fellow-citizens. Napoleon withdrew with horror
and disgust from Paris, and, with leave of absence, visited
his mother at Corsica.
XII.
Paoli, who had been made Governor of Corsica by the
National Assembly, was now endeavouring to bring the

NAPOLEON AT TOULON. 47
island under the government of England ; and he tried
to seduce Napoleon from his loyalty to France. The old
Corsican patriot slapped him on the shoulder, and said
good-naturedly, “You are modelled after the ancients—
you are one of Plutarch's men.” This was true—but it
did not win Napoleon; and although Paoli had been his idol
from his childhood, he now deserted him for ever, Corsica
yielded to England—Napoleon fought to save it. He
saw Ajaccio laid in ashes, and the home of his childhood
burned. The Bonapartes escaped from the island for an
asylum in France, and Napoleon returned to Paris,
XIII.
The head of Louis XVI. had rolled from the block
(21st Jan., 1793), a gauntlet for the monarchies of
Europe; and a month after, the Convention had declared
war against England. This precipitated all Europe on
France, and kings leagued together to crush her Republic.
in the South, where they had delivered the great arsenal
and sea-port of Toulon into the hands of England; the
arsenal was filled with military stores, and twenty-five
English and Spanish line-of-battle ships were riding in
he harbour. The Convention bent all its forces at once
o the recovery of Toulon. The siege had been now four
months in progress ; but the incompetency of one com-
mander, and the cowardice of his successor, left the place
untaken. Napoleon was despatched from Paris to take
the command of the artillery. He arrived, examined
the works, detected the blunders of the commander,
formed a plan of attack, and was at last allowed to
carry it into execution by General Dugommier. While
he was collecting his artillery, and planting batteries of
200 guns, with Duroc and Junot to aid him, he displayed
what he afterwards became so distinguished for—an
The Bourbon party was still strong in France, particularly


















48 NAPOLEON RONAPARTE,
apparently total insensibility to fatigue. He worked
through daylight, and slept nights by his guns till his
batteries were ready, when the attack began. -
XIV,
Eight thousand bombs and shells were thrown into
Little Gibraltar Castle, which shattered the walls; and at
daybreak the French, with the dauntless Muiron for a
leader, rushed over them, and put the whole garrison .
to the sword. This fort commanded the harbour; and
Napoleon had said that the only way to get Toulon was
to carry Little Gibraltar, and the city would surrender in
two days. His words were prophetic. He turned the
new batteries he had seized in another direction, and
poured down a destructive fire upon the hostile fleets,
The scene which followed for many hours baffles descrip-
tion. Upwards of 14,000 of the Bourbonists crowding
the shores to find refuge from the Republican victors on
board the fleets which were now moving out to sea—the
explosion of vessels and arsenals—the merciless shower of
shells falling from the French batteries—the screams of
thousands of women—the groans of the wounded and
dying—and spreading flames, all mingled in a drama of
terror, death, and victory.
Napoleon's Science and valour had thus saved France
from humiliation, taught her enemies to respect her,
suppressed the spirit of insurrection in the southern
provinces, and given the government of the Convention
control of the whole army. His name was not mentioned
in the despatch of the representatives, giving an account
of the conflict. But a truly great man can always afford
to bide his time.
XV.
Under the same General Dugommier, he was appointed
to join the army of Italy at Nice, for the campaign


NAPOLEON DISMISSED FROM THE ARMY. 49
against Piedmont, with the rank of Chef de Bataillon.
His skill and boldness gave success to the expedition.
He suggested the plan which resulted in the expulsion of
the Piedmontese from the Coldi Tende (7th March, 1794);
the strong fortification of Saorgio, with its rich stores,
and the maritime Alps, fell into the hands of France.
But again his superiors reaped the honours of victory;
and so far from deriving any credit or advantage from his
achievements, he was arrested on the fall of Robespierre
and thrown into prison. History has finally branded the
meanness of this proceeding on Salicetti, a Corsican
adventurer, who had risen into temporary power in
France, and who resolved to crush his young countryman,
whose genius he comprehended, and whose future eminence
he foresaw. Salicetti was, however, foiled in his mali-
cious attempt on the life of Napoleon. He succeeded,
however, so far that Napoleon was declared unworthy
of public confidence, and dismissed from the army (July 28,
1794). In a bold, concise, and emergetic letter to the
Committee of Public Safety, he says, “You have sus-
pended me from my functions, arrested, and declared
me suspected. Therein you have branded me without .
judging, or rather judged without hearing. . . . Hear
me ; destroy the oppression that environs me and restore
me in the estimation of patriotic men. An hour after,
if villains desire my life, I shall esteem it but little ; I
have despised it often.” . : . .
The resolution was reconsidered, and he was released
provisionally from arrest and offered the command of a
general of infantry in La Vendée, which he indignantly
refused. . . .
XVI,
It is a strange spectacle to see the young officer struck
from the rolls of the French army by the very men who
afterwards contended for the honour of the meanest posts
E




50 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
in his empire, and one of whom (Salicetti) owed to Napo-
leon's magnanimity his life, which his villany had forfeited
a hundred times. :
He withdrew for a while from Paris, and joined his
family, who were living in very reduced circumstances at
Marseilles. It appears that he there formed another
tender attachment, and would have married Mademoiselle
Clary (who afterwards became the wife of Bernadotte and
Queen of Sweden), had it not been for his poverty, which
was now extreme. .
In the month of May (1795), Napoleon returned to
Paris, and applied to the Government for employment.
He had fixed his eye on the East, that old theatre of
empire, and he asked for a mission to Turkey, to render
that kingdom a more formidable barrier against the en-
croachments of Russia and England—to repair the old
defences and erect new ones, and diffuse through the East
the spirit of modern civilisation. There were, doubtless,
dreams of glory and the charm of adventure in his imagi-
nation. Bourienne remarks that, “if the committee
had written granted at the bottom of the application, it
would have changed the fate of Europe.” So the young
soldier turned away dejected; and had it not been for his
friend Junot, who divided with him his purse, he would
most likely have grown desperate. It is more than pro-
bable that the timely arrival from Junot's mother of a
small sum of money, which he at once shared with Napo-
leon, kept him from suicide. .
But events were thickening, and the idle and neglected
young aspirant was soon to find scope for all his activity.
XVII.
Once more Paris was on the eve of a Revolution, and
again 40,000 of the National Guard were in arms against
the Government. A collision had taken place (3rd Oct.)

QUELLING OF THE SECTIONS. 51
when the troops of the Convention were drawn off by the
commander. The insurgents were prepared to attack the
palace the next morning, put an end to the National
Convention, and take the government into their own
hands. There was no time for trifling when the Conven-
tion assembled, “There is but one man who can save
us,” said Barras to his colleagues ; and Napoleon's name
was at once proposed, as second in command under Barras.
The Convention confirmed the choice by a decree, and
Napoleon was present during the proceedings. He
hesitated half an hour before he gave his answer. He
accepted the trust on the sole condition that he should
not be interfered with by the representatives of the
people. The trembling Convention yielded to the con-
dition, and without the loss of a minute began his pre-
parations for the morrow which was to decide whether
the mob should triumph and France lose all the fruits of
her Revolution, or law and order be established. Murat,
Junot, and many of the best officers of France, were flying
all night through Paris collecting cannon and arranging
the forces. & ... . . . . . . *... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
XVIII.
When the morning réveil sounded, the 40,000 insurgents
began their march in compact and heavy columns from
every section of Paris up to the palace. The column
which was advancing along the Rue St. Honoré found a
detachment of Napoleon's troops drawn up to dispute
their passage, with two cannon. The National Guards
levelled their muskets; but a flint had hardly struck fire
before a storm of grape-shot swept them from the street.
The signal had been given; and all Napoleon's batteries
throughout the city, guarding the bridges of the Seine
and the approaches to the Tuileries, poured forth their
murderous fire in all directions. In less than forty
minutes the victory was complete; and the 40,000 insur.
# %


52 NAPOLEON BON
gents had fled, leaving the streets where they stood
barricaded with the wounded and the dead, and drenched
with their blood, Napoleon gave orders for the instant
disarming of the sections; and the sun went down as
calmly over the helpless city as though nothing had hap-
pened. The supremacy of the laws had been triumphantly
asserted—life and property were secure in Paris for half a
century. That same evening the theatres were opened
and illuminated, and there were general rejoicings.
Napoleon's star rose that night above the horizon, and
began to mount and blaze towards the zenith.
The victor was rewarded by the appointment of
General-in-Chief of the Army of the Interior. All Paris
rushed to catch a glimpse of the commander. To give
France the benefit of the 13th Vendémaire, everything
was to be done, and Napoleon had to do it. His labours
were enormous; but he still found time for study, and
frequented very little the gay society of the capital. As
Commander of Paris, he had to hold his military levées,
at one of which an incident occurred one morning which
claims its place even in this brief sketch. A beautiful
boy, about twelve years old, approached Napoleon and
said, “My name is Eugene Beauharnais. My father,
viscount and a General of the Republican Armies, has
died by the guillotine, and I am come to pray you to give
me his sword.” Napoleon complied with his request, and
the boy covered it with his kisses and tears. Heran with
it to his mother, who, penetrated with gratitude, went to
the General the following day to thank him in person,
That interview had much to do with his future life. .





. . . XX, º
The Reign of Terror had ended with the death of .
Robespierre, and order had been restored in Paris. The

THE ARMY of ITALY. 53
Government had time now to provide for the external
affairs of the state, and the army of Italy, languishing
under a nerveless commander, demanded its first atten-
| tion. It had accomplished nothing since Bonaparte was
dismissed from it in disgrace, and the Directory resolved
to send them a new General. All eyes were turned to-
wards Napoleon, and he received the command without a
rival or superior in his camp.
XXI.
On the 9th of March, 1796, the young Conqueror of
the Sections married Josephine Beauharnais, and a few
days later set out to take command of the army of Italy.
He traversed France with the swiftness of a courier,
spent a few hours with his mother (whose comfort and
independence were now provided for) at Marseilles, and
before the expiration of the month thus addressed his army
of 50,000 destitute and disheartened men in Italy —
“Soldiers —You are hungry and naked : the Republic
owes you much, but she has nothing to give you. Your
endurance amidst these barren rocks deserves admiration;
but it brings you no glory. I come to lead you to the
most fertile plains the sun shines on. Opulent provinces
and large towns will soon be in our power, and there you
will reap riches and glory, Soldiers of Italy 1 will you
be wanting in courage 7" -
This was the first word of encouragement the army of
Italy had heard; and it shot martial enthusiasm through
their veins like electric fire. Under the incompetent
management of Schoerer, that great army had been brought
to wretchedness and want, and their horses had died of
famine; and yet their battalions were headed by such
officers as Masseno, Menard, Surrurier, Laharpe, Rampon,
Joubert, Lannes, and Augereau, and a hundred others
thirsting for battle.



54 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
In his despatch to the Directory of the 8th April, the
Commander-in-Chief says, “I found this army destitute
of everything and without discipline. Insubordination
and discontent had gone so far that a party for the
Dauphin had been formed in camp, and they were sing-
ing songs opposed to the tenets of the Revolution. You
may, however, rest assured that peace and order will be
restored. By the time you receive this letter, we shall
have met the enemy.”
… XXII.
Napoleon's career of victory began, as it continued, in
defiance of the established rules of warfare; and what
distinguished him above all his contemporaries was his
ability to convert the most unfavourable circumstances
into the means of success. Where other men would
have recoiled from inevitable death, he advanced to deci-
sive victory. Where other generals saw reasons for dis-
couragement, he borrowed inspiration for hope. º,
He now found himself under the weight of a responsi-
bility seldom cast upon so young a man. He was in the
dominions of hostile sovereigns, whose royal kinsmen had
died by the guillotine in the Reign of Terror. The Sar-
dinian King was father-in-law to both the brothers of
Louis XVI., and Marie Antoinette was sister to the
Emperor of Austria. He was, moreover, in a land which
had been ruled for ages by the hierarchy of Rome, who
saw in the French Revolution only the destruction of God's
altars and the murder of his priests. He was obliged
to provide resources for himself in an enemy's country;
and within a day's march of him lay three powerful
armies, with either of which it seemed madness to attempt
to cope. He had yet achieved no fame in the field, and
not a general in Europe would have blamed him if he
had only succeeded in holding the territory of Nice and
Savoy, which France had already won. ->

MONTE NOTTE. 55
xxIII.
But his views were bounded by no such limits. He
undertook to accomplish three objects, so great that the
conception of either indicated the vastness of his mind,
and the measure of his confidence. First, to compel the
King of Sardinia, with a strong army in the field, to
abandon his alliance with Vienna. Second, to force
Austria to concentrate her forces in her Italian provinces,
thus obliging her to withdraw them from the bank of
the Rhine. Third, to humble the power of the Vatican,
and break the prestige of its Jesuitical diplomacy for ever.
To accomplish these bold endeavours with such slender
means (and of his 50,000 men only 25,000 could be
brought into the field), he was obliged to forget all that
men had taught about the art of war, and invent a
system for himself—a system in which the favours of for-
tune might be won by the daring of chivalry, and genius
and intrepidity atone for numbers in battle. He knew
he would have to deal with veteran soldiers and expe-
rienced generals—men who had learned the art of war
before he was born. He therefore resolved that every
movement should be made with celerity, and every blow
levelled where it was least expected.

|XXIV.
Beaulieu, the Austrian General, with a powerful, dis-
ciplined and well-appointed army, determined to cut off
Napoleon's advance into Italy. He posted himself with
one column at Voltri, a town on the sea, ten miles west
of Genoa; D'Argenteau, with another column, occupied
the heights of Monte Notte; while the Sardinians, led by
General Colli, formed the right of the line at Ceva. This
disposition was made in compliance with the old system
of tactics, But it was powerless before new strategy,

56 r NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
On the morning of the 12th April, when D'Argenteau
advanced from Monte Notte to attack the column of
Rampon, he found that, by skilful manoeuvres during the
night, Napoleon had completely surrounded him. He
fought gallantly ; but seeing that to continue the battle
would only end in destruction, he fled to the mountain-
fastnesses, leaving his colours and cannon, with 1000 dead
and 2000 prisoners on the field. This was the centre of
the great Austrian army. It was completely routed
before either of the wings, or even the Commander-in-
Chief, knew that a battle had begun. This was the vic-
tory of Monte Notte, from which Napoleon dated the
origin of his mobility. . .
- XXV. .
Beaulieu fell back on Dego, where he could open his
communication with Colli, who had retreated to Mil-
lesimo. They were again strongly posted, and, despatch-
ing couriers to Milan, intended to wait for reinforcements
before they risked another engagement. But they were
not dealing with an old general, and this respite they
could not have.
The morning after the victory of Monte Notte, Napo-
leon despatched Augereau to attack Millesimo, Massena
to fall on Dego, and La Harpe to turn the flank of
Beaulieu. Massena carried the heights of Biastro at the
point of the bayonet; while La Harpe dislodged the
Austrian General from his position, which separated him
hopelessly from the Sardinian commander, and put him to
precipitate flight. Meantime, Augereau had seized the
outposts of Millesimo, and cut off Provera with 2000 men
from Calli's army. The next morning Napoleon, who had
arrived in the night, forced Calli to battle, shattered his
army, and put them to flight. Provera surrendered to
escape slaughter, Hotly pursued by the victors, Calli
rallied his fugitives at Mondovi, where they again yielded
cAMPAIGN IN ITALY. 57
to the irresistible onset of the French. He left his bag-
gage, and cannon, and his best troops on the field. The
Sardinian army had ceased to exist, and the Austrians
were flying to the frontiers of Lombardy.
Napoleon entered Cherasco—a strong place ten miles
from Turin—where he dictated the terms by which alone
the Sardinian King could still wear a crown. From the
castle where he stood, and looking off upon the garden-
fields of Lombardy, which had gladdened the eyes of so
many conquerors, with the Alps behind him, glittering in
their perennial snows, Napoleon said to his officers, “Han-
nibal forced the Alps; we have turned them.” The fol-
lowing bulletin sums up the history of the campaign to
this moment :– . . . . .
“Soldiers in fifteen days you have gained six vic-
tories, taken twenty-one stand of colours, fifty-five pieces
of cannon, several for , and conquered the richest
part of Piedmont. You have made 15,000 prisoners,
killed or wounded upwards of 10,000 men. Hitherto
you have fought for barren rocks, rendered famous by
your valour, but useless to your country. Your services
now equal those of the victorious army of Holland and
the Rhine. You have provided yourselves with every-
thing of which you were destitute : you have gained bat-
tles without cannon, passed rivers without bridges, made
forced marches without shoes, bivouacked without strong
liquors, and often without bread. Republican phalanxes,
soldiers of Liberty, only could have endured all this lº
Thanks for your perseverance; and if your conquest of
Toulon presaged the immortal campaign of 1793, your
present victories presage a still nobler. But, soldiers,
you have done nothing while so much remains to do.
Neither Turin nor Milan are yours. The ashes of the
conquerors of the Tarquins are still trampled by the
assassins of Basseville.” -



68 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
To the Italians he said— . . . . . . . . . . .
“People of Italy | The French army come to break
your chains. The people of France are the friends of all
nations—confide in them. Your property, your religion,
and your customs shall be respected. We make war with
those tyrants alone who enslave you.” -
His army, flushed with victory, were eager to continue
their march, and the people of Italy hailed Napoleon as
their deliverer. The Sardinian King did not long survive
the humiliation of his crown—he died of a broken heart.
In the meantime the couriers of Napoleon were almost
every hour riding into Paris with the news of his victories,
and five times in six days the representatives of France
had decreed that the army of Italy deserved well of their
country. . -->
. XXVI,
The Austrian General concentrated his flying battalions
behind the Po, between Turin and Milan, with the hope
of arresting the French army in their victorious march to
the capital of Lombardy. In his descent to Piedmont he
had crossed that great river at Valenza, and he supposed
Napoleon would do the same. But the French had
crossed the Po at Piacenza, fifty miles below, before Beau-
lieu knew they were in motion; and this hazardous feat
had been performed without the loss of a man. The
Austrian followed him, intending to bring him to an
engagement with the Po in his rear. But Napoleon
forced his march on to Fombio, where, as the advanced
columns met (8th May), the French carried the day at
the point of the bayonet. Leaving their cannon in the
hands of the enemy, the Austrians crossed the Adda,
another large stream, behind which Beaulieu gathered his
forces, posting strong guards at every ford of the river,
particularly at the wooden bridge of Lodi, which, by a

THE BRIDGE OF LODI. 59
fatal mistake, he left standing. But at that place he
planted a battery of thirty cannon, so arranged that they
could sweep every plank of the bridge,
XXVII.
Napoleon came up, and resolved to bring on the battle
at once. While he was making his preparations, he des-
patched a heavy body of cavalry to cross the river by a
distant ford, and hold themselves in readiness to fall on
the Austrian rear, while Napoleon charged across the
bridge. He watched anxiously, and at the first sign of
their appearance in the distance, he gave the order to
advance, and a column of grenadiers rushed on the bridge,
mingling their shouts of “Vive la Republique” with the roar
of the Austrian cannon, which were raining grape-shot
into their ranks. The solid masses of indomitable valour
recoiled for a moment when they received the storm.
But Napoleon and his principal officers rushed to their
head—the French bugles again sounded to the charge,
and the irresistible tide swept the bridge as the waves
sweep the shore of the ocean. Lannes was the first man
who cleared the bridge, and Napoleon the second. The
batteries were carried, the men bayoneted at their guns,
and the on-rushing phalanx plunged into the very heart
of the Austrian column. Meantime, the French cavalry
were doing their work of death in the rear. Once more
Beaulieu’s army was broken and put to flight. When
Europe heard of the battle, they named the conqueror
“The Hero of Lodi.” The few men still living who
mingled in the carnage of that day never mentioned the
name of Lodi without a shudder. The Battle of Lodi
gave the victor control of the home of the Lombard
kings, whose massive gates flew open four days after for
his triumphal entry. He issued the following order of
the day to his men — ... .º.º.º.


60 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
XXVIII.
“Soldiers —You have precipitated yourselves like a
torrent from the Appenines. You have overwhelmed or
swept before you all that opposed your march. Piedmont,
delivered from Austrian oppression, has returned to her
natural sentiments of peace and friendship toward France.
Milan is yours; and over all Lombardy floats the flag of
the Republic. - -
“To your generosity only do the Dukes of Parma and
Modena now owe their political existence. The army
which proudly threatened you finds no remaining barrier
against your courage. The Po, the Tessino, the Adda,
could not stop you a single day. Those vaunted ramparts
of Italy proved insufficient ; you traversed them as rapidly
as you did the Appenines. Successes so numerous and
brilliant have carried joy to the heart of your country.
Your representatives have decreed a festival to be cele-
brated in all the communes of the Republic in honour of
your victories. Then will your fathers, mothers, wives,
sisters, all who hold you dear, rejoice over your triumphs
and boast that you belong to them.
“Yes, soldiers, you have done much ; but much still
remains for you to do. Shall it be said of us, we know
how to conquer, but not to profit by victory ! Shall pos-
terity reproach us with having found a Capua in Lom-
bardy! Nay, fellow-soldiers I hear you already crying,
“To arms ” Inaction fatigues you; and days lost to glory
are to you days lost to happiness. Let us, then, begone
We have yet many forced marches to make, enemies to
vanquish, laurels to gather, and injuries to avenge.
Let those who have sharpened the poniards of civil war
in France, who have pusillanimously assassinated our
Ministers, who have burned our vessels at Toulon–let
them now tremble The hour of vengeance has sounded !
“But let not the people be disquieted. We are the

INSTITUTION OF THE IMPERIAL GUARD, (51
friends of every people; and more especially of the de-
scendants of the Brutuses, the Scipios, and other great
men, to whom we look as bright exemplars. To re-
establish the capital; to place there with honour the
statues of the heroes who made it memorable ; to rouse
the Roman people, unnerved by many centuries of op-
pression—such will be some of the fruits of our victories.
They will constitute an epoch for posterity. To you,
soldiers, will belong the immortal honour of redeeming
the fairest portions of Europe. The French people, free
and respected by the whole world, shall give to Europe a
glorious peace, which shall indemnify it for all the sacrifices
which it has borne the last six years. Then by your own
firesides you shall repose; and your fellow-citizens, when
they point to any one of you, shall say, ‘He belonged to
the army of Italy.’”
YXIX.
At the end of five days, his columns again started in
pursuit of the discomfited Beaulieu, who had fled beyond
the Mincio, with his left wing resting on the impregnable
Castle of Mantua, “the citadel of Italy,” and his right on
the Venetian fortress of Peschiera. He had chosen one
of the strongest positions in Europe. Napoleon forced the
passage of the Mincio at Borghetta, and Beaulieu was
compelled to abandon that river and fall back on the
Adige. On the day of his last victory, Napoleon was
surprised by a detachment of the enemy, and narrowly
escaped falling into Beaulieu's hands. He now organised a
Small band of chosen men to watch over his person, and
these guides grew at last into the Imperial Guard of
Napoleon.
The French general had now stripped Austria of all her
Italian possessions except Mantua, and the tri-colour was
waving from the Tyrol to the Mediterranean. He was
now, in effect, master of Italy.
But the Cabinet of Vienna saw that a more earnest and

62 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
vigorous struggle must be undertaken, or the victor who
annihilated her Italian army and wrested from her her
Italian dominions would soon march into the heart of her
empire, and dictate a peace under the walls of her capital.
A new army was therefore drafted from the Austrian
forces on the Rhine, and at their head the veteran Mar-
shal Wurmser began his march over the Tyrol to atone
for the reverses of Beaulieu on the plains of Italy.

XXX.
He had 80,000 of the best troops in the world under
his command, and Napoleon had scarcely a third of that
number. But Wurmser's first movement, after fixing his
head-quarters at Trent, was fatal. He divided his mag-
nificent army—which, united, Napoleon never could have
met—into three columns, each of which was successively
broken and captured. Melas, with the left wing, was to
march down the Adige and expel the French from Verona ;
Quasdonowich, with the left wing, followed the valley of
the Chiese, towards Brescia, to cut off Napoleon's retreat
on Milan; while the Marshal himself led on the centre,
down the left shore of Lake Guarda, toward the still be-
sieged Castle of Mantua. The eye of Napoleon, who had
hitherto been watching with the intensity of an eagle's
gaze all the movements of his antagonist, now saw the
division of Quasdonowich separated from the centre and
left wing ; and he flew to the encounter. But he was
obliged to draw off his army from the siege of Mantua,
which not one general in a hundred would have done.
On the night of July 31st, he buried his cannon in the
trenches, and intentionally marked his retreat with every
sign of precipitation and alarm ; but a courier could have
hardly borne to Quasdonowich the news of his raising the
siege of Mantua, before Napoleon had attacked and over-
whelmed him, and he was glad to save his shattered forces
by falling back on the Tyrol.

DEFEAT OF WURMSER. 63
XXXI.
This ill-omened beginning fired the blood and quickened
the evolutions of Wurmser ; and falling on the rear-guard
of Massena under Pigeon, and Augereau under Vallette,
the one shamefully abandoned Castiglione, ard the other
retired on Lonato. These inconsiderable successes were
gained by good generalship ; and the brave Marshal now
attempted to open his communication with his defeated
lieutenant. His column was weakened by extending the
line; and an electric movement of Massena regained
Lonato, and cut the Marshal's division in two. The flight
of some regiments, the surrender of others, and the con-
fusion of all, left on history the Battle of Lonato.
The brave old German, however, rallied his battalions
at Castiglione, where Augereau, who was determined to
wipe out the disgrace of Vallette, achieved a victory so
brilliant that Napoleon afterwards created him Duke of
Castiglione—a lasting souvenir of the gallant achieve-
ment. , - - " . " - " - ". . .” -------
The rout of the Austrian army was complete; its dis-
comfited columns were flying in all directions toward the
Mincio ; and Napoleon's couriers, mounted on the fleetest
horses of Lombardy, were riding toward Paris with the
news of the defeat of another and a larger army of Aus-
trians, headed by a Marshal of the Empire ::--->

XXXII.
In the midst of this great campaign, an incident oc-
curred on which the fate of Europe for a moment hung.
One of the flying divisions of Wurmser's army, in passing
Lonato, came up suddenly on Napoleon himself, with no
protection but his staff and guards. The Austrian
officer who went to demand a surrender was taken blind-
folded into the presence of the Commander-in-Chief.
64 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Napoleon saved himself by an impromptu stroke. At a
secret sign, his staff closed around him. The bandage
was stripped from the head of the messenger, and he
found himself in the presence of Napoleon. “What in-
solence is this Do you even after defeat beard the
General of France in the midst of his army 7 The
terrified messenger went back to his commander, related
what he had seen, and 4000 men at once laid down
their arms, when, had "they known the truth, a tithe of
the number could have captured Napoleon and his officers,
and put an end to the war. … . .
XXXIII
A detailed history of these achievements occupies the
pen of the historian longer than they did the sword
of the conqueror. This campaign against Wurmser
lasted but seven days; but while it lasted, Napoleon's
boots were not taken off his feet, nor did he sleep one
hour at a time ! He and his army needed repose, and,
flushed with victory, they could afford to take it. But
he pressed on the rear of his enemy till he had sat down
before Mantua, dug up his buried cannon, and renewed
the siege. The old Marshal had re-victualled the fortress,
and taken refuge within its walls; but in one week he
had lost his stores, artillery, and nearly 40,000 men.
While Napoleon was giving some respite to his wearied
army, suppressing revolts and conspiracies, and rendering
the subjugation of Italy complete, Austria was hurrying
a new army to the relief of its aged but not disheartened
Marshal. The reinforcements arrived, and Wurmser again
was in the field with an army vastly larger than Napo-
leon's ; but again he split his army into divisions, and
again each division was to be cut to pieces. He marched
30,000 to the relief of Mantua, and left Davidowich at
Roveredo, with 20,000, to protect the passes of the Tyrol





%
WURMSER'S LAST STAND. 65
XXXIV.
The two Austrian divisions were now separated and
their fate was sealed. On the 4th September, by the
most rapid marches Europe had seen, Napoleon reached
Roveredo, where Davidowich was intrenched in a strong
position before the city, covered by the guns of the
Calliano Castle overhanging the town. The camp was
yielded before the terrific charge of Dubois and his hussars;
and his dying words, as he fell, “Let me hear the shout
of victory for the Republic before I die,” fired his troops
with deeper ardour. They drove the Austrians through
the town, and carried the frowning heights of the castle at
the point of the bayonet, as they had carried the batteries of
Lodi. A town, a castle, fifteen cannon, and 7000 prison-
ers . We find these items in the despatch of Napoleon
on the evening of the Battle of Roveredo
Wurmser had not recovered from his dismay on the
news of the overthrow of his lieutenant, before Napoleon,
by a march of sixty miles in two days, descended on his
vanguard at Primolano, and cut it to pieces. An hour
after his army were advancing on Bassano, where (8th
Sept.) Wurmser made his last stand. After the most
heroic resistance, he again fled from the frightful onset of
the Republican phalanxes. Six thousand Austrians laid
down their arms; and the hunted Wurmser and his
paralysed army took refuge in Mantua, whither they were
pursued by the eagle-cavalry of Napoleon. Again a call
was made on Vienna to send a new army and a greater
general, to restore the Hapsburg dominion in Italy.
XXXV.
Another powerful armament was at once despatched to
the Italian frontier; and this fourth campaign against
Napoleon was intrusted to the supreme command of
- F


66 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,

Alvinzi, another illustrious marshal of the empire. In
less than thirty days from the defeat of Wurmser this
new army had met the French. Vaubois and Massena
were forced to yield to superior numbers. Trent and
Bassano were abandoned, and even Napoleon had re-
treated on Verona. Austria seemed likely in this cam-
paign to recover her immense losses. Again Napoleon
had to contend with an enemy vastly his superior in
numbers, and most completely appointed. Twelve new
battalions only had been sent to him from France to
recruit his decimated and exhausted regiments, and no-
thing but the exercise of the highest military genius could
even save him from destruction. His army, too, from
their recent reverses, no longer displayed their wonted
fire, and his generals began in some measure to distrust
fortune; but the genius of Napoleon rose with the oc-
casion and mastered the exigency. The abandonment of
Calliano by Vaubois had inflamed the indignation and
wounded the pride of the conqueror of Wurmser. He
ordered Vaubois' division to be drawn up on the plain of
Tivoli, and thus addressed them :- -
“Soldiers I am not satisfied with you. You have
shown neither bravery, discipline nor perseverance no
position could rally you. You abandoned yourselves to
a panic-terror. You suffered yourselves to be driven from
situations where a handful of brave men might have
stopped an army. Soldiers of the 39th and 85th, you
are not French soldiers. Quartermaster-general, let it be
inscribed on their colours, “They no longer belong to the
army of Italy ſ”
XXXVI.
The effect of these words was overwhelming. The
veteran grenadiers sobbed like children; and a thousand
cheeks which had gone unblanched through the carnage
of Lodi were wet with tears and burned with shame.

DiscontRNT IN THE ARMY. 67
They broke out from their ranks and clustered around their
general, trembling under his terrific displeasure. They
pleaded once more for their arms and their colours—they
begged once more to be led to battle that they might wipe
out the disgrace. Their general forgave them ; and when
they were again unleashed on the enemy, they swept him
before them like a rolling tide of fire. ..
But a spirit of discontent pervaded his entire army.
“We cannot,” said they, “work miracles. We destroyed
Beaulieu’s great army; and then came Wurmser with a
greater. We conquered and broke him to pieces; and
then came Alvinzi, more powerful than ever. When we
have conquered him, Austria will pour down on us a
hundred thousand fresh soldiers, and we shall leave our
bones in Italy.” - a
Napoleon said—“Soldiers, we have but one more effort
to make, and Italy is ours. The enemy is, no doubt,
superior to us in numbers, but not in valour. When he
is beaten, Mantua must fall, and we shall remain masters
of all; our labours will be at an end ; for not only Italy,
but a general peace is in Mantua. You talk of returning
to the Alps; but you are no longer capable of doing so.
From the dry and frozen bivouacs of those sterile rocks
you could very well conquer the delicious plains of Lom-
bardy; but from the smiling flowery bivouacs of Italy
you cannot return to Alpine snows. Only beat Alvinzi,
and I will answer for your future welfare.” r
XXXVII.
There were no more murmurs. The sick and the
wounded left the hospitals of Milan, Pavia, Bergamo,
Brescia, Cremona, and Lodi to join the army; and as
they came up, day after day—many of them with wounds
still bleeding—their comrades embraced them, and along
the lines of the French army rang the shout for battle.

68 - NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
The French general was now ready ; and darting be:
tween the two Austrian divisions before Alvinzi knew
that he had left Verona, he ordered Augereau, at day-
break, to carry the bridge of Arcola. This movement,
even to the intrepid Augereau, seemed to be courting
annihilation; but he obeyed orders and fought most gal-
lantly. . Ž
His column, however, at last wavered, and turned to
fly over the corpses of nearly half their comrades. One
moment now lost would have been ruin. Napoleon
dashed to the head of the column, snatched a standard,
and cried out to his grenadiers, “Soldiers are you no
longer the brave warriors of Lodi ? Follow me!” They
rushed with him till they grappled the Austrian division;
but the arrival of a fresh column of the enemy rendered
it an impossibility to carry the bridge at that moment.
The French fell back, and Napoleon was himself seized by
his grenadiers by the arms and clothes and dragged along
with them through the smoke, the dead and the dying,
and hurled into a morass up to his waist. The Austrians
were between him and his baffled column—the battle was
decided, and Napoleon himself was lost ! As the smoke
rolled off, the army saw the position of their commander.
The grenadiers formed in an instant, and with the cry,
“Forward, soldiers, to save the General ſ” launched them-
selves on the enemy like a bolt of fire. The Austrian
column melted away, and was rolled from the bridge, a
blackened, bleeding ruin. .”
Alvinzi's loss was so great it paralysed his army. He
had shared the fate of all his predecessors, and, like them,
sent to Vienna for reinforcements. The news of the
Battle of Arcola (17th November, 1796), threw France
into transports of joy, and filled Europe with conster-
nation. .

THE FIFTH CAMPAIGN. 69
xxxvii.I.
The short interval of fighting, after the day of Arcola,
had been one of ceaseless activity on the part of Napoleon.
Worn out with the oppression of the Austrian yoke, and
disgusted with the heartless and hollow mummery of the
priests, the intelligent classes of Italy greeted the triumphs
of the French arms with joy, and hailed the day-break of
a new period of light and advancement.
Napoleon knew that the Pope had raised his army to
40,000, and that the King of Naples was ready to unite
with him and fall on the French the first moment fortune
turned against them. Finding a secret combination form-
ing against him in every part of Italy, Napoleon no longer
hesitated in consolidating, as far as he could, the civil
power of France in the Peninsula; and, in compliance with
the wishes of the French party, he organised a republic
for Piedmont and another for Lombardy. They imme-
diately made levies of money and men for carrying on the
campaign.
XXXIX.
Marshal Alvinzi had now completed his preparations
for a fresh campaign; and once more (7th January, 1797),
at the head of 60,000 soldiers, he descended from the
northern barriers of Italy, to release the brave Wurmser
from his prison at Mantua, and overwhelm the French
invaders. - - *
It seems incredible, but this fifth Austrian army was
also divided—one column under Alvinzi, for the line of the
Adige; and another for the Brenta, under General Provera,
who was to join the marshal under the walls of Mantua.
When Napoleon learned this from his head-quarters at
Verona, he posted Joubert at Rivoli to dispute Alvinzi's
passage, and Augereau to watch the movements of Pro-
vera, knowing that he could in a few hours concentrate

70 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
his own forces on either column where he could fight to
the best advantage. An hour after sunset (13th January),
Joubert's messenger brought the news that he had met
Alvinzi, and with difficulty held him in check through
the day. Napoleon at once set his column in motion,
and, by one of his lightning marches, reached the heights
of Rivoli two hours after midnight.
- XL. -
The Austrian army was clearly visible in the moon-
light, lying in five encampments below. Napoleon deter-
mined to bring on the battle before Alvinzi was ready,
and he accomplished his object. His plan was conceived
with the subtlest and most comprehensive genius, and
executed with the most consummate skill. From the
lofty heights of Rivoli he held the fortunes of that deci-
sive day in his hands; for hours the wave of battle
ebbed and flowed only at his bidding. The world is
familiar with the history of the Battle of Rivoli. Before
the sun, which had risen brilliantly over one of the most
splendid armies of modern Europe, had reached the
zenith, that joyous and confident host had been broken
and put to flight.
Before the victory was complete, Napoleon, who had
had three horses shot under him during the engagement,
committed the closing scenes of this sanguinary day to
Joubert, Murat, and Massena; and having heard during
the battle that Provera, with his division, had already
reached the Lake Guarda, where he would at once be able
to relieve Wurmser, he mounted a fresh horse, and, march-
ing all that night and the next day, joined Augereau's
division at Mantua, carrying with him, to his exulting
comrades, the news of Rivoli. That night Napoleon ex-
plored the ground and watched the movements of the
enemy. In his rounds he found a grenadier-Sentinel,
3.

CONCLUSION OF THE FIFTH CAMPAIGN. 71
asleep. He took the gun and did the sentinel's duty till
he woke. When the grenadier saw Napoleon, he fell on
his knees in despair. “Take your musket, my friend,”
said he, “You had a hard march. I happened to be
awake, and did your duty. Somebody must watch, for
a moment's inattention now may prove fatal.”
It is not strange that Napoleon's men were ready to
die for him, as so many of them did, to save his life.
XLI.
The next morning the French general brought Pro-
vera to battle in the suburb of St. George, and forced him
to retreat ; and old Wurmser, who had hazarded a sortie
from Mantua, was glad to make his way back again, or
he would have been taken by a detachment led by Napo-
leon himself. Provera was cut off hopelessly from Alvinzi,
surrounded, disheartened, and defeated. He and his 5000
men laid down their arms. General René, with 6000,
surrendered; the Austrian fugitives, from the Brenta to
the Adige, followed their example. The magnificent
army of Austria had, in three days, ceased to exist ||
The campaign ended by the capitulation of Mantua.
When the gallant old Wurmser was required by the for-
tunes of war to surrender his sword, Napoleon withdrew,
to save the feelings of the aged chief; Serrurier received
it with respect. The delicate generosity of the French
general was never forgotten by the veteran marshal. The
Tirectory complained of Napoleon. In reply, he said to
them, “I granted the Austrians such terms as I thought
due to a brave and honourable foe, and to the dignity of
the French nation.” |
XLII.
This fifth campaign was the most glorious and decisive
of all. The Austrians had lost in it 30,000 men, sixty
stands of colours, 500 brass cannon, and an immense
#

72 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
quantity of military stores. Augereau was despatched
to France with the captured standards of Austria, and
his arrival in Paris was celebrated as a national festival.
The defeat of Alvinzi and the fall of Mantua recalled
in Rome the terror of the days of Alaric ; for it was
supposed the conqueror would soon enter the Eternal
City. Victor was, in fact, sent to the south with 8000
men, half of whom were Lombards. The Papal troops
attempted to arrest his progress at Imola, but they were
routed, and Faenza was carried by the bayonet. General
Colli, with 3000 men, surrendered, and the French
division took possession of Ancona. The disgusting
tricks and deceptions resorted to by the priests, to operate
on the minds of the people, were exposed. An image
of the Holy Virgin at Ancona, which shed tears at the
approach of the unholy French, was examined, and her
tears turned out to be a string of beads moved by clock-

work . We abstain from other statements of a similar
character which degrade their perpetrators, without im-
pairing the glory of religion, or robbing human nature of
its dignity, .
. XLIII
Of the vast army of priests who had fled from popular
rage during the Reign of Terror, many had taken refuge
in Italy. This class by the thousand trembled at the
approach of the victorious general of the Republic of
Robespierre. One of them, in his despair, surrendered
himself to Napoleon, and begged that, as his fate was
sealed, he might be executed at once. “Why, father,”
said Napoleon, “don’t be in a fret to die; you may do
much good yet. You will have, at all events, a fine
chance to, before we kill you. Be re-assured; no harm
will come to the ministers of religion.” And he at once
published a proclamation to that effect. :
The Pope sent an envoy to Napoleon, who received him

THE ARCHIDUKE CHARLES. 73
with great respect; and the Treaty of Tolentino (12th Feb.,
1797) was signed, conceding to the French a hundred of
the finest works of art, the castles and legations of Fer-
rara, Ancona, Romagna, and Bologna, the ancient Papal
possession of Avignon in France, and about two millions
of dollars, Tuscany had, of course, yielded to the terms
dictated; and Naples, foreseeing her doom, was ready to
submit to the conqueror.
. . XLIV.

Napoleon now turned towards the north, Venice, an
ancient Republic, still cherished her pride and no small
portion of her power; and she had 50,000 men to bring
into the field against Napoleon; but the Doge assured
Napoleon that his state would preserve neutrality. “Let
the neutrality, then,” said the French general, “be entire
and sincere, or the independence of Venice shall cease to
exist.” Leaving a few garrisons to watch Venice, Napo-
leon turned his face towards the Tyrol, and, reinforced by
20,000 men from France, prepared to encounter another
formidable Austrian army, under a new and more bril-
liant commander. .
XIV.

The Archduke Charles, the last great man the Haps-
burg race has produced, had already won the fame of an
accomplished general on the Rhine, where he had defeated
Moreau and Jourdan, who had no equals in the French
army but Napoleon. This heroic young prince and en-
lightened statesman had heard with mortification of the
overthrow of five great armies in Italy during his own
victorious campaign on the Rhine; and he longed to try
his strength with the terrible foe of his House. He set
out from the palace of his fathers with the sixth and best
army Austria could enrol, to retrieve the honour of the
arms of his country, and restore the lost Italian jewels to

74 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
the crown of Rudolph. The two young generals met on
the Taliamento, where the struggle began (March 12,1797)
with the capture of 5000 Austrian prisoners, and the
retreat of the Archduke. The rivals met and fought ten
times in twenty days. At last, Charles found his army
melting away like the snows of the Tyrol; and he turned
his face towards Vienna, resolved to make a final stand
against his antagonist under the walls of the Austrian
capital. Terror-stricken, when they heard that Napoleon
had stormed the passes of the Julian Alps, the royal
family—embracing little Maria Louisa, then six years old,
afterwards Napoleon's wife—fled with their crown jewels
and treasures into Hungary, that loyal and generous ally
of the Hapsburg crown. *:

% XLVI.
Napoleon now addressed a frank letter to Charles, pro-
posing negotiations for peace, which was calculated to
produce an effect, since he appealed to him as a brother-
soldier who knew the horrors of war, and the writer
wrote from the scene of a late victory. The Archduke
entered into negotiations, and the Provisional Treaty of
Teoben was signed April 18, 1797.
Meantime, the Venetian Senate, believing that the
danger was past, had violated their pledge of neutrality by
declaring war against France, and instigated the Veronese
to massacre the wounded French soldiers in their hos-
pitals. In other places the same atrocious butcheries
were perpetrated. Venice invested most of the towns
where Napoleon's troops were garrisoned, and cut off
his supplies for his main army. But the hour of ven-
geance was approaching; and if anything could hasten
Napoleon to make good his threat to extinguish the in-
dependence of Venice, it was the brutal butchery of his
Todi and Arcola heroes. His victorious legions had heard


HUMILIATION OF VENICE. 75
of the fate of their helpless comrades from the lips of
Napoleon; and when his bugles sounded the return from
the Tyrol, they swept down on the Queen of the Adriatic
like an Alpine storm. .
‘. . . .';... . XLVII. .
After the cowardly massacre of the wounded grenadiers
of France, the Doge and his Senate trembled at every
arrival of news from the north ; but when they heard of
the Treaty of Leoben, they were plunged in despair. They
despatched messengers to meet the conqueror, but they
were sent back with this answer: “You have perfidiously
murdered my brave men in their beds. If you held the
treasures of Peru in your hands, and could cover your
dominions with gold, you could not buy your ransom.
The Lion of St. Mark (the arms of Venice) must lick the
'dust.” : . {
An English historian has said, in speaking of the re-
sult, “These tidings came like a sentence of death on
the devoted Senate. Their deliberations were unceasing;
their schemes innumerable; their hearts divided and
unnerved. Those secret chambers, from which that
haughty oligarchy had for so many ages excluded every
eye and every voice but their own, were invaded by
strange-faced men, who boldly criticised their measures,
and heaped new terrors on their heads by announcing
that the mass of the people had ceased to consider the
endurance of their sway as synonymous with the pros-
perity of Venice. Popular tumults filled the streets and
canals; universal confusion prevailed. The commanders
of their troops and fleets received contradictory orders,
and the city seemed ready to yield everything without
striking a blow.”
. … XLVIII, 3. ~.
On the 31st of May his soldiers had entered the city,
and the Senate sent their unconditional submission. He

76 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
called for the murderers who had instigated the butchery
of his soldiers—they were delivered up. The Senate were
deposed, and the power given to the people, Napoleon
asked, and Venice gave, 600,000 dollars in gold, and the
same amount in naval stores; five ships of war, twenty
works of art, and five hundred MSS. Napoleon took
possession of the city, and the history of the Venetian
Republic was ended. A silly attempt was made to cor-
rupt Napoleon by a tender of seven million francs from
Venice, as Austria had offered a vastly larger sum and
a principality. To such proposals (and he received them
often) he had but one answer, “If I become rich or
great, it must come from France.” -
Venice offered Napoleon something meaner than a
bribe—the person and papers of Count d’Entraigues, a
French agent of the Bourbons. It was thus proved that
Pichegru, the French general, who had conquered Hol-
land, had betrayed the cause of the Republic to the Bour-
bons; and this information he sent to the Directory. .
Pichegru was exiled.
Venice humbled and her heavy tribute paid, Napoleon
marched on the ancient and opulent city of Genoa, esta-
blished the New Ligurian Republic, and then took up his
quarters in the Palace of Montibello, in the neighbourhood
of Milan, where he had the satisfaction, a few days after,
of greeting Josephine, whom he passionately loved, and
whom he had not seen since his departure from France a
year before. - -- #
- XLIX,
Napoleon was now in the bloom and splendour of his
life, and although for many subsequent years he seemed
to mount higher at every step on the road to glory, yet
his biographer pauses a moment at the Palace of Monti-
bello to contemplate the young conqueror of Italy the
pacificator of Europe, the creator of republics, the

NAPOLEON AT MONTIBELLO. 77
founder of institutions, the husband of Josephine. His
position was sublime. He had finished the most brilliant
campaign recorded in history. He had emancipated the
most beautiful land on the earth from the despotism of the
most loathsome race of tyrants. He had taught emperors
and kings, who had made war on the French Republic,
the great principle of the right of nations to govern them-
selves. He had made despots respect and fear a Republic.
He had shaken to its foundations the hoary structure of
feudalism, and opened an age of advancement to mankind.
L.
The Palace of Montibello—a venerable and magnificent
structure—now presented a beautiful spectacle. In the
apartments of Napoleon, in one wing of the classic
pile, all was activity, investigation, diplomacy, earnest,
intense work, universal progress. No roads had been
built in Italy since the Romans—Napoleon projected
them through every part of the Peninsula. He conceived
a broad road from Paris to Geneva, and from Geneva to
Milan, over the Simplon, thus bringing Italy into direct
communication with France, and northern and western
Europe. He projected canals, bridges, harbours, arsenals,
hospitals and institutions of learning, art, and science.
He called around him a university of scholars, philoso-
phers, artists, engineers, and statesmen. His couriers,
agents, and lieutenants, were flying in every direction to
carry his messages and execute his orders. His schemes
of progress embraced every field of science and art, and
every interest of commerce, agriculture, and industry.
They, moreover, comprehended the advancement of the
great mass of the Italians in intelligence, wealth, politi-
cal and personal independence. His comprehension also
embraced the policy and fortunes of other nations. To
show how profoundly he had contemplated the position

78. NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
and strength of the only foe that never has yielded to
France, England, he thus wrote to the Directory:
“From these different points (the islands of the Mediter-
ranean which he proposed to seize) we can command that
sea, keep an eye on the Ottoman Empire, which is crumb-
ling to pieces, and we can render the supremacy of the
ocean almost useless to Great Britain. Let us take pos-
session of Egypt, which lies on the road to India, and
there we can found one of the mightiest colonies in the
world. It is in Egypt we must make war on England.”
LI.
While these great schemes of science and government,
whose execution was to reflect so much lustre on his
name, and change so materially the condition of mankind,
were springing into existence in one wing of the majestic
pile of Montibello, the superb salons of the other were
flashing with the beauty and wit of the most entrancing
women of Italy, from whose magic centre shone the peer-
less wife of the youthful conqueror. Learned and gallant
men, high-bred and beautiful ladies, artists of fame and
poets of genius, illuminated her halls, and bent in homage
and admiration before that unrivalled woman. Her love-
liness of person and blandness of manner; her tact for
society and genius for conversation; her amazing intelli-
gence and earnestness of sympathy ; and, above all, the
courtly grace with which she yielded to more than queenly
honours, gave to her nightly sorićes among the polished
Italians the title of the Court of Montibello, and they
eclipsed every court in Europe. Everybody who came
near Josephine—if it were only to serve her—loved her.
Napoleon gave one hour a day to the blandishments of
Josephine's drawing-rooms, where he always found her
encircled by a waving crowd of worshippers. On one
occasion, when he had joined that circle without attract-

TREATY OF CAMPO FORMIo. 79
ing one of the countless eyes fixed on his wife, he gaily
said, “I only subdue provinces; Josephine conquers
hearts.” zºº. . . . . .
... . . . . . w LII,
The day came for the treaty with Austria, and Napo-
leon met her four negotiators at the humble village of
Campo Formio. They attempted to impose conditions
which no one of the generals he had vanquished would
have dreamed of Napoleon instantly rejected them.
They endeavoured to intimidate him by threat of an alli-
ance with Russia and the aid of the Cossacks. Napoleon
Sat silent a moment—then rising, took from the buffet a
porcelain vase. “Messieurs,” he said, as he lifted the
vase, “the truce is broken; war is declared. In three
months I will dismember your empire as I now shatter
this vase " and the porcelain flew into a thousand pieces.
The enraged general left the room, and despatched an
officer to the Archduke Charles to announce that he
should begin his march on Vienna in twenty-four hours.
He ordered his carriage and flew to the head-quarters of
the army; but he was soon joined by a messenger from
the negotiators, acceding to his terms. In a few hours
the Treaty of Campo Formio was signed (3rd Oct.,
1797). It extended the borders of France to the Rhine,
and recognised the Cis-Alpine Republic of Lombardy and
Piedmont. Napoleon gave up perfidious Venice to
Austria; and under her yoke it groans to this hour.

LIII.
The victories of Napoleon had affected the political
fortunes of every state of Europe; and a congress of the
German powers was called at Rastadt to arrange defi-
nitively all the conditions of a general peace. The Direc-
4- ild d no one but Napoleon to act as the am-

80 . NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
bassador of France; and he was commissioned to proceed
to Rastadt. . .
His farewell to the army, and the affecting scenes which
attended it ; his inspiring and noble councils to the Re-
public of Lombardy; the tokens of admiration, gratitude,
and love the Italians poured in upon him as he left them;
his journey through Switzerland to Rastadt, which was
one continued triumph; his reception by the representatives
of the German States—we must leave all these and a
thousand other passages in the life of Napoleon to the
history of modern Europe. .
IIV.
But the conqueror of Italy soon grew tired of the dull
details of diplomatic technicalities, and, leaving them to
the more patient care of his colleagues, set out in two
days for Paris. There were many reasons why he should
lose no time in returning to his adopted country. During
his absence he had been the salvation of France. He
had compelled Europe to give up the old principle of in-
tervention, and let France govern herself as she pleased.
He had made fifty sovereigns recognise a Republic ; and
he had done something greater and better than this for
the French nation—he had given internal peace and do-
mestic tranquillity to a land torn by faction and deluged
in blood. The feeble and corrupt Directory who governed
by Paris would have long before been overthrown had it
not been sustained by his victories. The men who com-
posed it, jealous of his rising fame, had interposed every
obstacle to his victorious career in Italy, and would have
recalled him from his conquests had they dared to brave
the indignation of the people. But the Directory had
sunk into contempt, and Napoleon knew that France was
waiting for his return. . .”
When he withdrew from the Congress at Rastadt, he

HIS RETURN TO PARIS, 81.
laid aside all the insignia of rank and power ; and in the
dress of a private citizen returned to Paris, where he
took up his residence with Josephine in the humble lodg-
ings they had occupied before he set out for Italy. He
walked the streets and mingled with the people in his
citizen's dress, without attracting observation, and had
been a day or two in Paris before it was generally known
that he had returned. .” .
- LV.
But when it was known that he had returned, the city
was filled with enthusiasm, and the curiosity to see Napo-
leon was intense. The most distinguished persons in the
. capital went to pay their homage to the man who had
achieved so much for his country; but with great modesty,
dignity, and good sense, he evaded every species of display,
and, sinking the conqueror in the citizen, revealed another
attribute of greatness that excited still higher admiration.
Another significant fact should be mentioned, since it in-
dicates a striking trait in his character. He continued to
employ the same tradesmen and artisans who had worked
for him in his poorer and humbler days. Having obtained
from a silversmith, just as he was starting for Italy, credit
for a dressing-case at a cost of two hundred and fifty dol-
lars, he remained through life the friend of the person who
had obliged him ; and, by his favour, he became one of the
most opulent citizens in Paris. But at no period did he
ever employ in any service a man without talent. Every
other consideration was made to give way to this. How-
ever obscure may have been a man's birth, the ability and
disposition to execute any commission in a superior man-
ner always entitled him to the favour of Napoleon. .

LVI.
This fact is worthy of being mentioned in the history
of any great man, more especially such a man as Napoleon.
… - G -

82 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
The ancienne noblesse had been overthrown ; but Paris
could not live without a tribunal of taste and fashion. It
had been erected on the fall of Robespierre by the women
of beauty and the men of wit of the Republic. It was,
perhaps, more imperious and exacting than that of the
Bourbons—far more vulgar, and at least equally heartless
and corrupt. .
Every attempt, however, to enthral Napoleon by the
blandishments of elegant dissipation was unavailing. He
would not be shown. His whole history proves that he
cared little about the popularity of the hour. He despised
the homage of the mob. His mind on this subject is in-
dicated by a reply he once made to a favourite marshal,
when congratulated on a public demonstration by the
people. “Bah!” said he. “What is fame? A great
noise . They would shout just as loud if they saw me
going to the guillotine.” .
The Directory were by no means anxious to add new
splendour to the reputation of a man whose glory had long
oppressed them ; but Paris felt that his unparalleled
achievements called for some public signs of the gratitude
of the nation, and Napoleon was invited to deliver the
Treaty of Campo Formio to the Government in the pre-
sence of the chief personages of the State and the citizens
of Paris. . .
- LVII.
This imposing ceremony took place in the Court of the
Luxembourg, under a canopy of standards and banners
captured in the Italian campaign. When the young con-
queror appeared, followed by his band of heroic generals,
and the vast assembly caught—many of them for the first
time—a sight of the victor, they could scarcely believe their
senses. That slender, boyish form, and that lean, bronze,
impassive face, would not have seemed to belong to the
conqueror of Beaulieu, Wurmser, Alvinzi, and the Arch-


.#
DELIVERY of THE TREATY. 83
duke Charles, had not the invincible soldier bespoke him
at every step, . . . . . . . .
The wild cry of the assembly broke forth, and poured
down upon his uncovered head like the storm of the
battle-field. He bent to it as he bowed to no other
storm, and his slight frame trembled to the shock.
When he had recovered his self-possession, he said to the
T)irectory—
“To achieve their freedom, the French people had to
fight allied kings; and to win a Constitution founded on
reason, they had to combat the prejudices of eighteen
centuries. Superstition, the feudal system, and despotism
have successively governed Europe for twenty ages; but
the era of representative governments may be dated from
the peace you have concluded. You have accomplished
the organisation of the great nation whose vast territo-
ries are bounded only by the limits nature herself has
interposed. I present you the Treaty of Campo Formio,
ratified by the Emperor. This peace secures the liberty,
prosperity, and glory of the Republic. When the happi-
ness of the French people shall be established upon the
best founded laws, all Europe will be free.” .
| Such a scene as this must, in any nation or any assem-
bly, have wrought up the feelings of the spectators to the
intensest enthusiasm ; but among so mercurial a people
as the Parisians, the language which we employ in
describing the emotions of other men fails in graphicness
and power. Barras, the presiding Director, said, in reply
to Napoleon's terse and patriotic words, “Nature has
exhausted all her powers in the creation of Bonaparte.”
LVIII
The honours of the French Institute have never been
cheapened by bestowment upon men who were the
favourites only of rank or fortune. There are but so

84 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
many places to be filled; and when the exile and the sup-
posed death of Carnot had made an opening, Napoleon
was unanimously elected to fill the place. His reception
by the Institute was the highest tribute ever paid to his
genius. Seldom have the honours of that great institu-
tion been conferred upon a man so young, and never
where they were received with greater modesty, or had
been more nobly won. From this time he devoted all his
leisure to the profoundest studies and intimate inter-
course with the illustrious Savans of Paris. Those who
were most intimate with him were most surprised at the
extent of his knowledge and the intensity of his philoso-
phical investigations. Assuming no importance as a
military chieftain, and throwing aside altogether the trap-
pings and livery of war, he appeared only in the simple
dress of the members of the Institute ; thus displaying
what he at all times felt, how much worthier science and
learning are of homage than mere military glory.
of his campaigns. He allowed the feeble and incompe-
tent Directory to take its downward course, knowing that
the time was not far distant when he would be called, by
the unanimous voice of the French people, to preside
over the nation. To those who may think that we are
disposed to exaggerate the political foresight of Napoleon,
we will merely refer to his letters and conversations at
this period, which will show that he not only felt the
clearest presentiment of his future elevation, but that his
subsequent course was decided more eminently than that
of almost any other illustrious man by the settled pur-
poses of his own indomitable will.

LIX
Immediately after the termination of Napoleon's cam-
paign in Italy, when couriers were no longer flying daily

THE EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. 85
over the great roads to Paris with the bulletins of fresh
victories, the Directory hit upon a new scheme of con-
quest—the invasion of England. Such was the military
fame of Napoleon, they could not have intrusted the con-
duct of this enterprise to any other man; and he had now
for several months been indicated by the Tirectory as the
leader of this undertaking. When the preliminary pre-
parations had all been made, Napoleon left for the sea-
board to consummate the undertaking. He carefully
inspected the fortifications and naval resources along the
French coasts, from the British Channel around to Bor-
deaux; he became as thoroughly acquainted with the
naval resources of Great Britain as any Englishman in
her service; he conceived many important improvements
which from that time began to be carried out, and some
of which have been only recently perfected under the
government of his nephew ; he calmly contemplated the
plan conceived by the Directory; he weighed in the
balances of an enlightened judgment the results that
would probably attend the undertaking, and he at last
came to the conclusion that the whole plan of the Direc-
tory of an invasion of England was a wild chimera, and
he resolved to defeat it. z
He returned to Paris, and made his views known to
the Directory, who offered no effectual resistance to his
decisions. He, moreover, recalled a suggestion he had
made to them from Italy, which had doubtless almost
entirely escaped their observation, of making Egypt the
theatre of a decisive conflict with England. He at once
proposed the expedition to Egypt, and it was decided on
without delay by the Directory. The necessity of secresy
was so great, every man connected with the execution of
the scheme acted with the greatest discretion. Every-
where throughout France the military and naval prepa-
rations were increased, new men were levied for the cam-



86 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
paign, new vessels were launched at the ports and arsenals,
and the cities and villages of France everywhere resounded
with the clangour of preparation. The intensest excite-
ment pervaded France. Europe itself was occupied only
with the idea of the invasion of England by the conqueror
of Italy, and the southern coast of that sea-girt island
was blackened with men who rushed tumultuously to
make a bulwark against a foreign invasion.
LX.
Tn the meantime, Napoleon had completed his scheme
for the expedition to Egypt. He had organised the most
efficient scientific corps that had ever been seen. There
was not a book, nor an instrument of science or investi-
gation, there was not an agency for the advancement of
mankind in knowledge, that he had not already brought
under his control. One or two of the guiding spirits of
the French Institute were in his confidence, and all that
institution could furnish was placed at his disposal. The
ultimate success of the expedition to Egypt may be attri-
buted, in some degree at least, to the fact that England
had been concentrating her maritime resources on her
own coast to repel the invasion. This is precisely what
Napoleon intended; for while England was profoundly
ignorant of the point where Napoleon intended to strike,
he was himself consummating his plans.
At last, when his preparations were complete, and he
had concentrated all the forces he wished on the southern
coast of France, he started for Toulon. A few hours
afterward he reviewed his exulting soldiers, and said,
“Rome fought Carthage on the sea as well as on the land.
England is the Carthage of France. I have come to lead
you, in the name of the divinity of Liberty, across mighty
seas, and into distant regions, where your valour may
achieve such life and glory as will never await you be-

. . . . . . ExIBARKATION FoR Egypt. 87
neath the cold skies of the west. Prepare yourselves,
soldiers, to embark under the tri-colour, for achievements
far more glorious than you have won for your country on
the blushing plains of Italy.” . . . .
LXI.
It was known that Nelson, the Neptune of the seas, was
in the Mediterranean with a powerful fleet, which had
been seen hanging off Toulon for many days; but a wild
tempest from the Alps had swept down and driven his
vessels far out to sea. It had scarcely passed before
Napoleon gave the order for the embarkation of all his
troops, and the preparation for the voyage.
Many a great enterprise has been conceived and carried
out on the Mediterranean—its waters have been ploughed
by the triumphant keels of many a conqueror; but history
gives no traces of such an expedition as this. The em-
barkation had been conducted with the rapidity which
characterised all the military movements of Napoleon, and
it was consummated at day-break the first fair day after
the storm. -
The signal was given by the orders of Napoleon from
the admiral's vessel, and immediately the whole fleet
weighed anchor and put out into the open sea. Thirteen
immense line-of-battle ships, fourteen frigates, and four
hundred transports, carrying forty thousand picked
soldiers, generalled by officers whose names had already
become immortal on the scrolls of chivalry, unfolded as
they rode out to sea; and when the sun came up over the
Mediterranean, it shone upon the vast armament extend-
ing twenty miles. On the passage, Napoleon was rein-
forced by the division of the French army in Italy, under
the command of General Dessaix. The heavens them-
selves seemed to smile upon the expedition, and on the
10th of June it appeared before Malta. That impregnable

88 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
rock, which had for ages been held by the renowned
Knights of St. John, scarcely attempted to resist the pro.
gress of Napoleon, and from the battlements of their forti-
fications he saw the flag of welcome streaming. He halted
at Malta long enough only to raise the French flag and
leave a garrison of soldiers, and the fleet was again
signalled towards the East.
.. r . LXII, . --- .
Nelson, who had heard of the embarkation of the arma-
ment from Toulon, had now been several days scouring
the Mediterranean in search of his foe; but he was foiled
by the genius of Napoleon, and the fortune which presided
over his destiny. In the midst of a violent gale the
expedition landed at the mouth of the Nile, and in a few
hours his army was within the walls of the city that had
been founded by Alexander. The following general order
had been published to the army before debarkation —
“The people we are now to associate with are Mohamedans;
the first article of their faith is, ‘There is but one God, and
Mohammed is his prophet. Do not contradict them ; treat
them as you have the Jews and the Italians: respect their
muftis and imans. The Roman legions protected all
religions. This people treat their women differently from
us; but in all countries the violater is a monster ; pillage
enriches only a few. It dishonours us, destroys our
resources, and makes those enemies whom we ought to
gain as friends.” .” ..
The following was published to the people of Egypt :
“You will be told that I come to make war on your reli-
gion; but believe it not. Say that I am come to restore
your rights—to punish the usurpers; and that I respect
God, his Prophet, and the Koran, more than they were
ever respected by the Mamelukes. . . . . . Woe to
them that take up arms for the Mamelukes—they shall
perish ſ” . . ‘. . . . .


MARCH TO THE PYRAMIDs, 89
LXIII,
Egypt was then a province of the Ottoman Empire, and
Turkey was at peace with France; but Egypt was groan-
ing under the despotism of the Mamelukes. This body of
men, which was recruited entirely from boys taken captive
in Europe, had acquired the control of Egypt, and they
obeyed none but their own twenty-four chiefs, each of
whom ruled over his own separate district. Napoleon
considered them the finest cavalry in the world. Armed
with the best instruments of warfare that could be manu-
ctured, and mounted upon the fleetest and noblest Ara-
bian horses, their charge had till that time been irresistible.
He remained but a short time in Alexandria, and (July
7th, 1798) passed out from the gates of that city, resolved
to bring the Mamelukes to an engagement. His march
over the desert towards the Pyramids exhausted the vigour
of his army, and his Lodi heroes melted under the burning
African sun. The army was filled with murmuring, and
was on the verge of mutiny. But, says an English writer,
“Napoleon altered nothing, wore his uniform buttoned
up as at Paris, never showed one bead of sweat on his
brow, nor thought of repose except to lie down in his
cloak the last at night, and start up the first in the morn-
ing. It required, however, all that this example of endur-
ance and the influence of character could do to prevent
the army from breaking into open mutiny.”
For fourteen days this vast army marched over the
burning sands of the desert, till the 21st of July, when
their eyes were gladdened by a sight of the Pyramids. As
they rose on a gentle eminence, and gained a full view of
these hoary structures of antiquity, rising in solemn majesty
over eternal desolations, they saw the camp of the army of
the Mamelukes. As he had treated the marshals of Aus-
tria, so did Napoleon deal with the Mamelukes of the
C



90 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Nile. With a small staff he rode towards the camp of the
enemy to reconnoitre for himself. With his glass he saw
the batteries of the beys, and by a closer inspection per-
ceived that their guns were without carriages, and conse-
quently could be levelled only in one direction. He rode
back to the army, resolved to bring on the battle at once.
LXIV.
Mourad Bey, the gallant commander of the Mameluke
host, who had for some days been impatiently awaiting a
sight of the dreaded commander of Europe, drew up his
army for battle, and showed himself quite as ready as his
antagonist for the encounter. Riding by his battalions,
which had been formed into separate compact squares,
Napoleon said, “Soldiers, from the summits of yonder
pyramids forty centuries are looking on you !” The
infantry of Mourad Bey was now marching rapidly down
upon the French, and their cavalry was sweeping round
them on both wings like the simoom of the desert. They
brought with them to the charge clouds of dust, and made
the desert ring with their terrific war-cries as they bore
down on their foes. Their charge had been irresistible
wherever they had encountered human power; but when
they met the French columns, they dashed against a solid
battlement of steel. The French squares received them
upon a gleaming front of bayonets. Their wounded horses
reared and turned backward. Again they were urged to
the encounter, and again they fell back, pouring the blood
out of their bosoms. To and fro, squadron after squadron
swayed before the unwavering French battalions. The
Mameluke horsemen, wild with fury, drove their horses
on, discharged their fire-arms, and in their desperation
hurled their pistols into the faces of the French, and again
retreated. At last the charge had been so often made and
so often repelled, and the fire of the French had been so



THE BATTLE OF THE PYRAMIDs, 91
sure and deadly, that before them lay a bleeding barricade
of Mameluke cavalry—itself a protection against their
enemy; and behind thi part still stood the unbroken
columns of Napoleon, " . .
LXV, a
For the first time the charge of the Mamelukes had
proved unavailing. The cavalry of the Desert had re-
coiled from the chivalry of Europe. Napoleon saw their
discomfiture, and seized the moment of victory. His
bugles sounded the charge, and he led his battalions upon
the main body of the Egyptian army. They drove them
from the camp—vast multitudes were swept into the Nile
—thousands were left bleeding on the sand, and the rest
fled in dismay over the desert. Such was the Battle of
the Pyramids.
It left Napoleon master of Lower Egypt ; and wherevel
the flying Mamelukes were carried on their fleet horses,
they spread only the terrible bulletin, “Sultan Kebir.”
(King of Fire). Under the shadows of the Pyramids
Napoleon's soldiers rifled the bodies of the slain. They
swam into the Nile, and caught the turbans that were
floating on its waters flashing with jewels, and many a
single corpse made a French soldier rich for life. It was
the custom of the Mamelukes to carry their treasures with
them on their bodies when they went to battle, and every
Mameluke that fell added to the spoils of the victors.
But before the fallen Mamelukes had yielded up their
treasures with their blood, one hundred of Napoleon's
Savans, fired by a thirst for science as quenchless as the
victorious soldiers for his spoils, had scaled the dizzy
heights of the Pyramids, and were pressing for admission
at the sepulchre of the Pharaohs. The empire of science
was spreading as rapidly as the dominion of France. A
messenger from Monge, the chief of those university-ex-
ploring savans, announced to Napoleon that the secret

92 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
f
chamber of the great pyramid was opened, and awaiting
his entrance. Threading the labyrinths by the torches of
his guides, he crossed the strange threshold, and stood
uncovered in the presence of the dust of one of the dynas-
ties of antiquity. “There is no God but God,” said Napo-
leon, “and Mohammed is his prophet.” Two or three
learned Saracens who had attended him answered with
solemnity and half-disguised sarcasm, “Thou hast spoken
like the greatest of the prophets, but God is merciful.”
The invincible soldiery of Napoleon, enriched by the
battle-plain of the Pyramids, took up their quarters in
Cairo, and forgot the toils of the campaign in the luxuries
of the deserted harems of the dead Mamelukes.
LXVI.
Ten days after the Battle of the Pyramids, Nelson, who
had been scouring the Mediterranean in search of the
enemy, at last discovered the hostile fleet in the Bay of
Aboukir. He at once bore down upon it and brought
the French admiral to an engagement. For more than
twenty hours, with no interruption except when the
Orient, a hundred-and-twenty-gun ship, caught fire and
blew up with a terrific explosion, the conflict lasted. The
Trench fleet was utterly destroyed ; and Napoleon, with
fifty thousand men, and two thousand miles from the
French coast, was left without the means of return. All
his communication with France was cut off. Month after
month passed by without bringing with it any intelli-
gence of the political state of the country. The immense
calamity which the French general had suffered caused
but a temporary depression of feeling. He at oncé pro-
ceeded to organise a better government and state of society
than Egypt had had for centuries. Guided by the most
scientific men in the world, and with a material force for
the accomplishment of almost any purpose, the monu-

OBJECT OF THE EXPEDITION. 93
ments of Egypt were ransacked to their foundations. Canals
that had been closed for ages were once more opened, and
the waters of the Nile again flowed where they had been
first directed by the genius and the labours of the Pha-
raohs. Egypt was now bristling with activity. Science
was exploring the entombed history of a great nation, and
the Egyptians began to enter upon a career of improve-
ment which continues to the present time.
LXVII.
The principal object of the expedition to Egypt had,
however, been defeated. It was the overthrow of the
power of England in the East. Had not the French fleet
been destroyed, it could have blockaded, if not taken, Con-
stantinople, and Napoleon would have marched on the .
Euphrates. He had acquired by his victories and ad-
ministration such fame and influence over the Oriental
nations, it was not doubted that at least a hundred thou-
sand Moslems, who were looking forward upon an age of
progress, would have joined the French army, and with
the Mamelukes, the Arabs of the desert, the Druses of
Mount Lebanon, the Christians and the Sheiks of Azor,
Napoleon would have had a force sufficient to revolu-
tionise Asia, and prostrate the English dominion on that
continent. It is impossible to conceive, much less to
calculate with probability, the consequences that would
have attended a triumphant march from the Nile to the
Ganges. The inscrutable purposes of the Almighty are
unfolded slowly to the comprehension of men ; but at this
period, those who understood the vast conception of
Napoleon thought they saw the hand of Providence
shaping out new destinies for the six hundred millions of
Asia. If those stupendous and hoary structures of
government and superstition which have for ages over-
shadowed that continent are finally to give way to the

94 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
light of Christian civilisation, it would seem probable that
it would be achieved by some man like Napoleon, who,
by an electric stroke, would shiver these immense fabrics
to pieces. . .
. LXVIII,
But another fatal circumstance occurred to defeat the
lofty conception of Napoleon. It was understood that
the Directory would bring all its force to sustain the
rebellion in Ireland, and thus divert, as far as possible, §
the military power of England from the conflict with . § 3.
France ; but the treachery or incompetency of the
Directory, and their counter-order for the Irish expe-
dition, made the destruction of the French fleet a still
greater calamity. .
England had also succeeded in getting the Sublime
Borte to proclaim war against France ; and two powerful
Turkish armies, with all the aids of Lord Nelson's fleet,
were assembling at Rhodes and in Syria to attack Napo-
leon in Egypt. Forty pieces of artillery and twelve
hundred gunners had been concentrated at Jaffa " and at
Gaza stores had been collected and preparations made to
enable sixty thousand men to march over the desert. To
remain where he was would have been fatal; and again.
the French commander not only extricated himself from
imminent peril by a rapid and unexpected movement,
but he achieved some of the most brilliant victories of
his life. .
While those two armies were preparing to assail him,
and the Mediterranean, an impassable barrier, lay between
him and France, and burning sands stretched away on
the other side, he started across the desert with ten thou-
sand of his best men—took the fortress El-Arish, whose
garrison capitulated—marched on to the Philistian city of
Gaza, which he entered in triumph, and then carried the
walls of Jaffa by storm, where at least three thousand reso-


& RETREAT FROM JEAN D’ACRE. 95
lute Turks died in defence of the city. The garrison, which
held out some time longer, at last surrendered; and Napo-
leon, two days after, had them marched off to the summit of
the sand-hills, where over one thousand were shot. They
met their fate like Turks. Their bodies were stacked into
a pyramid; and their bones, which have been whitening
for over half-a-century, are seen there still. This is the
first great act of Napoleon which the world has agreed
dimmed the lustre of his fame.
LXIX.
After failing to reduce St. Jean d’Acre, which he
besieged for sixty days, the plague broke out in his camp,
and the whole army turned pale with terror. Napoleon
determined to fly from this visitation of Heaven, and he
treated the plague as he had often before a human foe
—he began his retreat across the desert. The return to
Egypt of his decimated, wearied, parched, and plague-
stricken army was a drama of terror, suffering, and
heroism on a small scale, not unlike the frightful retreat
from Moscow. The Arabs of the desert swept around
the staggering column as the Cossacks hung upon the
rear of the army of Russia, Valiant and hard-muscled
men yielded to the intolerable heat of the desert as
the army of 1812 was overwhelmed by the Poland.
winter. Few generals could have executed so difficult an
undertaking. It was not like a march through an ordi-
nary country; it was rather a moving hospital. Napo-
leon gave up his last horse to aid in the transportation of
the sick and wounded, and walked on foot by their side
through the sands, cheering them by his beaming counte-
nance and heroic example.
LXX,

At last his weary legions rose slowly over a sand-ridge
of the desert, and saw before them the Nile sweeping

96. NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
down in majesty to the sea. These heroic soldiers, whose
cannon had waked the echoes of all the sacred mountains
of Judaea, now forgot their sufferings, as they bathed in
the refreshing waters of that glorious river. Napoleon
entered his head-quarters in Cairo, and addressed himself
in that city to the work of constructing civil institutions
for Egypt. But the Beys of the Upper Nile were
preparing to force a passage down to Alexandria, and
there form a junction with an immense debarkation of
Ottomans, which would have effected the ruin of Napo-
leon ; but he again outstripped in celerity the move-
ments of the enemy, and thus defeated their design. He
at once descended the Nile to Alexandria. The Turkish
fleet had already entered the Bay of Aboukir, and landed
eighteen thousand men, who had taken possession of the
fortress. A battle was to be fought the next day, which,
said Napoleon, “go as it may, will decide the fate of the
world.” < . - w
The conflict began on the morning of July 25, 1799,
and before noon it had ceased to be a battle or even a
victory. It was a massacre | Thousands of the flying
Turks plunged into the river rather than meet the stroke
of the invincible Murat, whom they named, all through
the Oriental world, “Le Beau Sabreur,” or the terrible
fire of “The Sultan Kebir.” At least six thousand Turks
lay dead on the battle-field, as many more surrendered at
discretion, and the corpses of about the same number
were floating in a turban-wave to the sea. Such was the
Battle of Aboukir, which atoned in a great measure for
the loss of the fleet, and again made Napoleon master of
Egypt.
But the most astounding and alarming intelligence had
reached Egypt of the progress of the revolution of Europe.
The perfidy and folly of the Directory had again precipi-
tated the allied armies on the French Republic; and


RETURN FROM EGYPT. . 97
although the Directory had established the shadow of a
republic in Switzerland, dethroned the King of Sardinia,
instigated a bloody insurrection in Rome, and set up the
form of another republic there, driven the King of Naples
over to the island of Sicily, and established for the
moment what was called at Naples the Parthenopean
Republic, still a new and mightier coalition than had yet
been formed against France had been consolidated by r
England, and this time the Emperor of Russia had been
induced to join it. All was alarm and terror at Paris,

and Napoleon saw very clearly that there was no man in
France capable of governing the country, and he at once
resolved upon his return to Paris, .
LXXI,
Admiral Gantheaume had succeeded in saving two

ships on that terrible day of the Battle of the Nile; and
against the advice of his associates, and in defiance of
every rule of discretion, except heroism, Napoleon
weighed anchor for France. The Mediterranean was
scoured at almost every league of water by the invincible
ships of Nelson. Not a soul except Napoleon dreamed,
even, of a successful voyage. He was bearing home the
rich fruits of the scientific discoveries the Institute had
made in Egypt. Some of his best officers were with him,
and above all the vessel carried the only man, as the
result proved, who could have saved his country. For
nearly two months of calms and baffling winds, and eva-
sions of the English fleets, the timid voyagers were kept
at Sea. Napoleon was the only man on board who pre-
served his equanimity, cheerfulness, and repose. He spent
all his time in a profound study of the Bible, the Koran,
and those other great works which the spirit of inspira-
tion or the genius of ages had elaborated to guide man-
kind. During this voyage it was afterwards remarked,
H
%

98 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
by the savans who accompanied him, that Napoleon cast
light over every problem that was offered for discussion,
and asserted in the completest manner his title to the
rank of a savan himself. ... --> r
& . . LXXII. . w º
At length, on the 30th of September, after they had
escaped thus far the perils of their long voyage, the two
vessels came to anchor in the port of Ajaccio. Nothing
had been heard of Napoleon for many months, until the
people learned of the magnificent victory of Aboukir.
His reception by his native islanders was enthusiastic
beyond description; and the most satisfactory indications
were everywhere visible that France was awaiting the
return of Napoleon as the forlorn hope of the nation.
Seven days he remained at Ajaccio, when, almost in full
view of a great English fleet, he gave orders for getting
under weigh. During the night his vessel passed safely
through the English fleet, and on the morning of the 9th
entered the bay of Frejus. His reception was more bril-
liant than was ever accorded to an imperial sovereign.
The inhabitants went wild with joy, and wherever the
news flew the French ran to see the conqueror of Egypt;
but with only a few hours of detention the carriages were
prepared, and he took the road to Paris, where he arrived
before the couriers who were sent to carry the news of his
landing. The Directory regarded their doom as sealed
the moment they heard of his arrival, and Paris was con-
vulsed with joy. When Napoleon presented himself at
the Luxembourg, he was received with every token of
respect and delight. The honour of a magnificent banquet
was tendered to him; but no expression of opinion escaped
his lips, except the toast he proposed of the union of all
parties. Paris, her legislative bodies and the Directory,
were now divided into two parties—the Moderates, headed
by Sieyes; and the Democrats, by Barras, Finding it



NAPOLEON's command STRENGTHENED. 99
impossible to remain neutral, Napoleon took sides with
the former. Lucien, who had just been elected president
of the Council of Five Hundred, the subtle and able
Talleyrand, and the accomplished Sieyes, were his con-
fidants; and he determined to overwhelm the imbecile
Government and take the reins in his own hands. He had
measured his strength, established his purpose, and now
went calmly to its execution. . ~ .
LXXIII.
Several regiments of dragoons of the garrison of Paris, -

the forty adjutants of the National Guard which he had
remodelled before the Italian campaign, and a large num-
ber of other commanders and military corps, had tendered
their congratulations and thanks to Napoleon, and begged
of him the honour of a review. Without fixing the time
when this was to be done, he invited all those officers to
visit him at his house the next morning at six o'clock;

while the three regiments of dragoons were requested to
be ready at the same hour for their review in the Champs
Elysées. There was a universal expectation that some
decisive event was about to take place; but what the

event was, or the manner in which it was to be effected,
none but those who were in the confidence of Napoleon
could imagine. At seven o'clock on the same morning
the Council of the Ancients assembled in the Tuileries,
when the president, one of Napoleon's confidants, arose,
and, after a short speech, proposed the passage of two
decrees; one of which transferred the meetings of the
legislative bodies to the palace of St. Cloud, beyond the
walls of the city, and the other placing all the military
forces in Paris and its neighbourhood under the command
of Napoleon.
, These decrees were passed with acclamation and without
debate, and before Napoleon had left his house a messenger
:
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:
:

100 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
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came to announce to him the news. He instantly mounted
his horse and rode to the Tuileries with all his staff,
where, being presented to the Council, he said, “You are
the wisdom of the nation, surrounded by the generals of
the Republic. I come to offer you our support. Let us
, waste no time in seeking for precedents. Nothing in
history resembles the close of the eighteenth century—
nothing in the eighteenth century resembles this moment.
Your wisdom has devised the necessary measure : our
arms will put it in execution.”
LXXIV.
Barras, who, with his party, was thunderstruck when he
saw what a single hour had accomplished, sent his secre-
tary to protest before Napoleon against what he declared
to be a usurpation. With the decision the crisis called
for Napoleon said, “What have you been doing for that
beautiful France which I left to you so prosperous when
I started for Egypt : Instead of peace, I find war ;
instead of the wealth of Italy, I find taxation and dis-
tress. Where are the hundred thousand brave Frenchmen
whom I knew, the companions of my glory? They are
dead.” Napoleon despatched some confidential troops to
guard the Luxembourg, and the Directory ceased to exist.
The Council of Five Hundred, an hour or two later,
assembled to learn their fate. Resistance would have been
idle; and adjourning for their next session at St. Cloud,
they mingled with the enthusiastic people, shouting, “Vive
la République.” When the two legislative bodies assembled
at St. Cloud the next morning, they found that beautiful
château completely invested by the brilliant battalions of
Murat. The Gallery of Mars was thrown open for the
reception of the Council of the Ancients, and a stormy
debate began. During the previous night an attempt had
been made to resist on the coming day the power of Napo-
%.


w NAPOLEON AT ST, CLOUD. 101
leon, and if possible to supplant him. In the midst of the
confusion, Napoleon himself entered the hall, and, asking
permission of the President, thus addressed them. “Citi-
zens, you stand on a volcano. Let a soldier frankly pro-
claim the truth, I was quiet in my home when this
Council summoned me to action. I obeyed. I assembled
my brave comrades, and placed the arms of my country at
the service of you who are its head. We are paid by
calumnies: they talk of Cromwell, of Caesar. Had I
aspired to power, the opportunity was mine long ago. I
swear that France holds no patriot more devoted than I.
We are encircled by danger. Let us not hazard the advan-
tages we have bought so dearly—Liberty and Equality "
“And the Constitutionſ" interrupted a Democratic mem-
ber. “The Constitution tº resumed Napoleon, “it has
been thrice violated already—all parties have invoked it
—each in turn has trampled it in the dust. Since it can
be preserved no longer, let us at least save its foundations
—Liberty and Equality. It is on you only that I rely.
The Council of Five Hundred would restore the Conven-
tion, popular tumults, the scaffold, the Reign of Terror. I
will save you from all these horrors—I and my brave
companions, whose swords and caps I See at the door of
this hall; and if any hireling traitor talks of outlawry, to
those swords will I appeal.” *: :
LXXV.
Asingle shout rang through thearches, “Vivel»onaparte.”
In the meantime, in the Council of Five Hundred, where
were concentrated all the ferocious elements of the days of
Robespierre, a storm of passion raged. With the same
steadiness of purpose and calmness of manner, Napoleon
walked into the chamber with two grenadiers on either
side, who halted at the doors which were left open, while
the general advanced towards the centre of the chamber.

102 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
At the sight of the drawn swords through the passage- .
way, and the presence of armed men at the doors of that
deliberative body, the fiercest cries broke forth—“Down
with the traitor P. “Long live the Constitution " A
large number of members rushed upon Napoleon ; and
Arena, a Corsican deputy, struck for his throat with a
dagger. In an instant the grenadiers rushed forward,
and bore their Commander out of the hall. “Soldiers tº
he said, “I offered them victory and fame—they have
answered me with daggers.” . . . . . . . . . :
We do not deem it necessary even to notice the silly
report that was afterwards spread that Napoleon was ter-
rified and trembled with fear. His generals were alarmed
at the consequences. “It was worse, gentlemen,” said
Napoleon calmly, “at Arcola. I have led you to victory,
to fame, to glory. Soldiers can I count on you now?”
“We swear it !” they cried. “Vive Bonaparte P’ was the
answering shout. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . LXXVI. . - - . . . . . . . . . . º:
The confusion of the Assembly had grown still wider,
and Lucien had endeavoured in vain to be heard; the
Assembly drowned his voice. The grenadiers once more
entered the hall and bore him away from the fury of his
colleagues. . He mounted a horse, and in a loud voice thus
spoke to the soldiers: “General Bonaparte, and you,
soldiers of France, the President of the Council announces
to you that factious men with daggers interrupt the deli-
berations of the Senate. He authorises you to employ
force. The Assembly of Five Hundred is dissolved.” Le
Clerc was at once despatched to execute the order of the
President ; and with a detachment of grenadiers, with the
roll of drums and levelled pieces, Lucien at their head
mounted the tribune. “Such,” said he, “are the orders
of the General.”. The Council had lost the day. Most of
them made their escape from the windows. Lucien imme-


• ‘’’. . .” APPOINTED FIRST CONSUL. 103,
diately assembled the Moderate members of the Council,
who resumed its sessions, and, in conjunction with that of
the Ancients, a decree was passed investing the entire
authority of the state in a Provisional Consulate of three—
Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos, ... : * : . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ;
. . . LXXVII. . . . . . .
Thus ended the 18th and 19th Brumaire, and consum-
mated one of the most decisive revolutions of which history
has preserved any record; and so admirable were the
arrangements of Napoleon, it did not cost France a drop
of blood. However, men's opinions may be divided in
justification or condemnation of his course, no man who
comprehends the state of affairs in France and in Europe
at that time has ever doubted that the usurpation saved
Paris from frightful scenes of carnage and terror. It was
one of those unforeseen but mysterious events in the his-
tory of Napoleon upon which the fate of all Europe was
suspended.
LXXVIII.
The next morning the three Consuls met at Paris, and
France began to make progress. Napoleon guided and
controlled everything; and from this hour the supreme
authority may be considered vested in him for life. The
first day they devoted to the consideration of the public
finances. France was impoverished, and the people had
been scourged by forced loans and proscriptions till they
would endure it no longer. A decree was published at
once, raising all the regular taxes twenty-five per cent,
and the revenues and expenditures of the Government
were immediately subjected to the severest scrutiny and
the most perfect system. “The Law of Hostages,” a most
despotic and cruel edict, by which French citizens were
held responsible for all the acts of their kinsmen who had
fled from France, was abolished; Christianity was again

104 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
º
. . . . * f : $2.
restored, and the churches everywhere op
mation and gratitude, and every priest who was willing to
take the oath of fidelity to the Government was restored
to his functions as a minister of Christ. Upwards of .
twenty thousand of this proscribed and persecuted class
now came forth from the prisons of France to bless the
name of Napoleon. Ta Fayette and other patriots and
statesmen, who had been banished because they did not
approve of the Reign of Terror and the despotism of the
Directory, were recalled from their exile, and many other
salutary reforms at once stamped the new Government
with the seal of public approbation and the confidence of
Europe. Tranquillity once more prevailed. Law and
order were established, crime was punished, virtue and
patriotism rewarded, and there was throughout France
everywhere a growing feeling of delight and satisfaction
that the nation had recovered from the terrible days it
had passed through since the beginning of the Revolution,
and men looked forward to the future with hope. In
everything that was done the genius of Napoleon was
visible. A great man was at the helm, and the world
saw that Napoleon was breathing over the chaos of the
Revolution the regenerating fire of his creative genius.
LXXIX.
On the 14th of December the new Constitution was
published, and the Consuls thus announced it to the
French people: “Citizens, the Constitution is grounded
on the true principles of a representative government, on
the sacred rights of property, equality, and liberty. The
powers it institutes will be vigorous and permanent—
such they should be to secure the rights of citizens and
the interests of the State. Citizens, the revolution is

established on the principles from which it originated: it -
is ended.” .


NAPOLEON's Policy. - 105
The Constitution was hailed with gladness and con-
fidence by France; and on the 19th of February, 1804,
the First Consul took up his residence in the Tuileries,
the old home of the monarchs of France. When those
spacious halls were again thrown open under the reign of
law, order, and progress, even Europe itself and the foes
of Napoleon contemplated the brilliant spectacle with
amazement and delight. Shortly after, Napoleon re-
viewed the army of Paris, amounting to one hundred
thousand men, on the Place du Carousel; and for the first
time in modern history, perhaps, the world saw the
greatest general of the age the civil chief of the most
brilliant State in Europe.
LXXX.
The Bourbons now began, when they saw the reign of
order established, to hope that their exiled and deposed
race would once more be restored to the throne of their
fathers. Napoleon was approached by the negotiators,
who privately, during a midnight interview, attempted to
gain from him some pledge to that effect, but the attempt
was unsuccessful. “The restoration of the Bourbons,”
he said, “cannot be effected without enormous slaughter;
and I shall entertain but the single idea to forget the
past, and gladly accept the aid of those who are desirous
to see the will of the nation fully carried out.” *
With a spirit of conciliation and liberality, he called
into the service of the Government, without regard to
their former acts or opinions, the ablest men in France.
Talleyrand was complained of as a political trickster, and
a man of no established principles. “Be it so,” said
Napoleon; “but he is nevertheless the ablest Minister
for Foreign Affairs I can find.” Carnot, whom Napo-
leon had recalled from exile, was objected to as a repub-
lican, “Let us,” he said, “availourselves of his unrivalled


106 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
talents in the administration of the war department, and
who cares for his opinions?” Fouché everybody knew to
be a heartless villain. “But,” said Napoleon, “since we
cannot create men, we must take them as we find them,
and Fouché makes the best Minister of Police in France.”
The consummate ability with which Napoleon now
managed the affairs of the State, the army, and the
foreign relations of France, created a new era for his
country. “From this day,” says Lockhart, “a new epoch
was to date. Submit to that Government, and no man
need fear that his former acts, far less opinions, should
prove any obstacle to his security—nay; to his advance-
ment. Henceforth the regicide might dismiss, all dread
of Bourbon revenge, the purchaser of forfeited property
of being sacrificed to the returning nobles; provided only
they chose to sink their theories and submit. To the
Royalists, on the one hand, Bonaparte held out the pros-
pect, not, indeed, of a Bourbon restoration, but of the re-
establishment of a monarchical government and all the
concomitants of a court. For the Churchman the temples
were at once opened; and the rebuilding of the hier.
archical fabric in all its wealth, and splendour, and
. . power, was offered in prospective. Meanwhile, the great
and growing evil from which the Revolution had really
sprung was for ever abolished. The odious distinction of
castes was at an end. Political liberty existed, perhaps,
in the eye of the law—was, or seemed to be, established,
All men, must henceforth contribute to the State in the
proportion of their means; all men appealed to the same
tribunals; and no man, however meanly born, had it to
say that there was one post of power or dignity in France
to which talent and labour never, could elevate him.” . A
higher eulogy never was passed upon a conqueror or a
statesman; and the most wonderful three months in the

- LETTER to geonde THE THIRD. 107
progress of human government or human fortunes that
history speaks of is the period from the 18th Brumaire to
the proclamation of the new Constitution.
* * *... . ; - IXXXI. , , . . . . . . . . . . . ;
During the absence of Napoleon in Egypt, the tri-
colour which he had left floating on the castles along the
Rhine, and from the Julian Alps to the Mediterranean,
had been humbled ; and England and Austria, with all
the allies they could bring into the coalition, were pre-
paring once more to compel the French to retire to their
ancient boundaries, and ultimately offer the crown to the
exiled Bourbons. But Napoleon knew that France
needed internal repose, and he was desirous if possible to
atone for the treachery and weakness of the Directory,
and establish universal peace in Europe.' . Waving the
usual etiquette of diplomacy, the First Consul had already.
(December 25th, 1799) addressed the following letter to *
IQing George ; and if England had been wise enough or
magnanimous enough to give it the answer it merited,
she would have saved herself. whole decades of struggle,
incalculable treasure, and countless hecatombs of men.
But England had not then, with all the boasted wisdom
of her Pitts and Grenvilles, learned the great lesson which,
Napoleon afterwards, taught her so effectually—non-in- -
tervention in the affairs of other nations. Louis Napo-
leon has been saved all the trouble of teaching England,
this lesson, which his uncle taught her so well. That,
Trance should have proclaimed a republic was, in the
opinion of British statesmen, an unpardonable crime in
1792; but England saw no crime in it when France re-
peated the act half a century afterwards. Kossuth has
received the credit of first proclaiming this principle, and
it has been conceded to him; but the true author and
vindicator of the great doctrine of the right of every



108 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
:
&
:
nation to govern itself, without the intervention of others,
was first and longest and hardest fought for by Napoleon
Bonaparte, w .
LXXXII. .
But the letter. “French Republic—Sovereignty of the
People—Liberty and Equality. Bonaparte, First Consul
of the Republic, to his Majesty the King of Great Britain
and Ireland. Called by the wishes of the French nation
to occupy the first magistracy of the Republic, I have
thought proper, in commencing the discharge of its
duties, to communicate the event directly to your Majesty.
“Must the war which for eight years has ravaged the
four quarters of the world be eternal'ſ Is there no room
for accommodation ? How can the two most enlightened
nations of Europe, stronger and more powerful than is
necessary for their safety and independence, sacrifice com-
mercial advantage, internal prosperity, and domestic happi-
ness, to vain ideas of grandeur ! Whence comes it that
they do not feel peace to be the first of wants as well as
of glories? These sentiments cannot be new to the heart
of your Majesty, who rules over a free nation with no
other view than to render it happy. Your Majesty will
see in this overture only my sincere desire to contribute
effectually for the second time to a general pacification:
by a prompt step taken in confidence, and freed from
these forms which, however necessary to disguise the
apprehensions of feeble States, only serve to discover in
the powerful a mutual wish to deceive. º
“France and England, abusing their strength, may long
defer the period of its utter exhaustion ; but I will ven-
ture to say that the fate of civilised nations is concerned
in the termination of a war the flames of which are
raging throughout the whole world. I have the honour,
&c. &c. - . . . . .
. . . . . . . “BONAPARTE.”

RAISES A NEW ARMY. 109
LXXXIII.
In a very short-sighted letter, Lord Grenville, then
Secretary of State, replied to Talleyrand. We will spare
England the humiliation of another edition of this
despatch. She paid very dearly for the insult ; and
George III, himself afterwards said that he was very
sorry he did not have the opportunity of replying to
General Bonaparte's letter himself. It would have saved
England millions of money, and Europe millions of lives.
One word from Lord Grenville's note: “The war
must continue until the causes which gave it birth cease
to exist. The restoration of the exiled royal family will
be the easiest means of giving confidence to the other
powers of Europe.” When Napoleon read the letter, he
said, “I will answer that from Italy;” and immediately
called his generals together, and ordered them to get
ready for another campaign beyond the Alps. Three
days after the receipt of the Grenville note, the First
Consul electrified France by an edict for an army of
reserve, embracing all the veterans who had ever served
the country, and a new levy of 30,000 conscripts. Four
great armies were already in the field—one on the north
coast was watching Holland, and guarding against any
invasion from England; and this division was sufficiently
powerful after the humiliating defeat of the Duke of
York. Jourdan commanded the army of the Danube,
which had re-passed the Rhine, Massena was at the
head of the army of Helvetia, and held Switzerland,
and the fragment of the mighty host that Napoleon had
himself led to victory, still called the army of Italy.

IXXXIV.
After despatching his orders, by which upwards of
350,000 men were marched to various points of conflict

110 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
with the European powers, Napoleon joined Berthier at
Geneva (May 8th, 1800), where Marescot, the engineer,
who had at the order of Napoleon explored the passes
of the Alps, described minutely the all but insuperable
obstacles that would oppose the passage of an army.
Napoleon impatiently demanded, “Is it possible for an
army to pass?” “It might be done,” was the answer.
“Then it shall be!” said Napoleon; and preparations were
instantly made. :
Says Botta, in his superb description of this campaign,
“The First Consul set forth on his stupendous enter-
prise, his forces being already assembled at Martigny, at
the foot of the Great St. Bernard. The soldier gazed on
the aërial summits of the lofty mountains with wonder
and impatience. On the 17th of May the whole body
set out for Martigny for the conquest of Italy. Extra-
ordinary was their order, wonderful their gaiety, and
astonishing also the activity and energy of their opera-
tions. Laughter and song lightened their toils. They
seemed to be hastening, not to a fearful war, but to a
festival. The multitude of various and mingled sounds
were re-echoed from hill to hill, and the silence of these
solitary and desolate regions, which revolving ages had
left undisturbed, was for a moment broken by the
rejoicing voices of the gay and warlike. Precipitous
heights, strong torrents, sloping valleys, succeeded each
other with disheartening frequency. Owing to his in-
credible boldness and order, Lannes was always chosen
by the Consul to take the lead in every enterprise of
danger. They had now reached an elevation where skill
or courage seemed powerless against the domain of nature.
From St. Pierre to the summit of the Great St. Bernard
there is no beaten road whatever, until the explorer
reaches the monastery of the religious order devoted to
the preservation of travellers bewildered in these regions


AsCENT of THE GREAT ST BERNARD, 111.
of eternal winter. Every means that could be devised was
adopted for transporting the artillery and baggage, The
carriages which had been wheeled were now dragged—
those which had been drawn were carried. . The largest
cannon were placed in troughs and on sledges, and the
smallest swung on sure-footed mules. The ascent to be
accomplished was immense. In the windings of the tor-
tuous paths the troops were now lost and now revealed
to sight. Those who first mounted the steps, seeing their
companions in the depths below, cheered them on with
shouts of triumph. The valleys on every side re-echoed
to their voices, Amidst the snow, in mists and clouds,
the resplendent arms and coloured uniforms of the soldiers.
appeared in bright and dazzling contrast : the sublimity
of dead nature and the energy of living action, thus
united, formed a spectacle of surpassing wonder. The
Consul, exulting in the success of his plans, was seen
everywhere amongst the soldiers, talking with military
familiarity to one and now to another, and, skilled in the
eloquence of camps, he so excited their courage that,
braving every obstacle, they now deemed that easy which
had been adjudged impossible. They soon approached
the highest summit, and discerned in the distance the
pass which leads from the opening between two towering
mountains to the loftiest pinnacle. With shouts of
transport they hailed this extreme point as the termina-
tion of their labours, and with new ardour prepared to
ascend. When their strength occasionally flagged under
excess of fatigue, they beat their drums, and then, re-
animated by the spirit-stirring sound, proceeded forward
with fresh vigour. At last they reached the summit, and
there felicitated each other as if after a complete and
assured victory. Their hilarity was not a little increased
by finding a simple repast prepared in front of the monas-
tery, the provident Consul having furnished the monks


112. NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
with money to supply what their own resources could not
have afforded for such numbers. Here they were re-
galed with wine and bread and cheese, and enjoyed a
brief repose amidst dismounted cannon and scattered
baggage, amidst ice and conglomerated snow, while the
monks passed from troop to troop in turn, the calm of
religious cheerfulness depicted on their countenances.
Thus did goodness and power meet and hold communion
on this extreme summit.”

LXXXV.
The passage of the Alps had been achieved with so
much celerity that long before the Austrians knew Napo-
leon's army was in motion he had descended into Italy,
where Lannes, June 9th, had met and cut to pieces a
powerful division, and taken five thousand prisoners on
the field of Montibello. On the 14th of June the
Austrian and French armies came together on the plain
of Marengo. We cannot trace the events of that won-
derful day. Napoleon had fought against terrible odds in
numbers and in position; and, nearly overpowered, his
army was slowly retiring from the field when Dessaix,
riding up to the First Consul, said, “I think this a battle
lost.” “And I,” said Napoleon, “think it a battle won.”
He drew up his army on a third line of battle, and riding
along said to them—“Soldiers we have retired far
enough. You know it is always my custom to sleep on
the field of battle.” A final charge was then made, when
Dessaix, whose gallantry changed the fortunes of the day,
was shot dead through the head. Napoleon embraced him
an instant and said, as his tears fell on his dead general,
“Alas! I must not weep now,” and, mounting his horse,
again plunged into the battle. So far from being dis-
heartened by the terrible spectacle of the loss of the be-
loved Dessaix, the whole army concentrated themselves
THE BATTLE OF MARENGO. 113
together and hurled their invincible columns upon the
Austrian lines. They marched victorious over thousands
of the slain. The broken infantry and the terrified cavalry
fled in confusion to the banks of the Bormida, into which
they were plunged by the French cavalry, who swept the
field. The Bormida was clogged and crimsoned by
German corpses. Such was the Battle or Marengo, the
most decisive, perhaps, which had been fought in Europe.
It opened to Napoleon the gates of all the principal cities
of northern Italy.
… . . . . .x: - - - -- LXXXVI, - - - - -
The conqueror at once marched to Milan, where he was
received with exultation, and immediately reconstructed
the fallen Cis-Alpine Republic. Leaving the army of Italy
under the command of Massena, and Jourdan minister in
Piedmont, by a flying journey he was again, on the
second day of July, in the Palace of the Tuileries. We
believe that few historians have attempted to describe his
triumphal entry into Paris. It was but a few days before
that he had set out for the campaign of Marengo, and his
achievement seemed to transcend the bounds of possi-
bility. Every house in Paris was illuminated, and the
joy was so much the greater since a French traveller had
just before reached Paris with the announcement that he
had left the field of Marengo at a late hour in the day,
and General Melas had achieved a great victory. He
stated only the truth, which Napoleon himself confirmed
on his arrival; but the turn in the fortunes of the day, a
single hour afterward, he had not waited to observe.
Napoleon's power and fame were now greater than ever;
and the Bourbons, believing that the moment had come
for the restoration of their fortunes, again pressed Napo-
poleon with their offers. “You are very tardy,” said the
Count de Lille, afterwards Louis XVIII., “in restoring to
... . . ." I





114 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
me my throne. It is to be feared that you will let the
favourable moment slip. You cannot establish the happi-
ness of France without me, and I, on the other hand, can
do nothing for France without you. Make haste, then,
and point out yourself the posts and dignities which will
suit you and your friends.”
In reply, the First Consul wrote, “I have received your
Royal Highness's letter. I have always taken alively in-
terest in your misfortunes, and those of your family. You
must not think of appearing in France—you could not
do so without marching over five hundred thousand
corpses. For the rest, I shall always be zealous to do
whatever lies in my power toward softening your Royal
Highness's destinies, and making you forget, if possible,
your misfortunes.” -
LXXXVII.
Napoleon had now reached such a point of power that
the Bourbons resigned all hopes of a restoration through
his agency; and as there were not wanting instruments
ready to be employed for such a purpose, the assassination
of Napoleon was agreed on, and through countless futile
schemes it was for years prosecuted most unrelentingly.
In August, 1800, Ceracchi, the famous and infamous
Italian sculptor, attempted the assassination of Napoleon
as he was entering the theatre; but one of the accomplices
had betrayed him, and the chief conspirator was seized.
Then followed the infernal-machine, which consisted of a
barrel of gunpowder surrounded by an immense quantity
of grape-shot, stationed on the night of the 10th of Oc-
tober, at Nacaise, a narrow street through which Napo-
leon was to pass on his way to the opera-house. At St.
Helena he himself thus related the circumstance, “I
had been hard at work all day, and was so overpowered
by sleep after dinner that Josephine, who was quite
anxious to go to the opera that night, found it very

THE INFERNAL-MACHINE, º 115
difficult to rouse me up and persuade me to go. I fell
asleep again after I had entered the carriage, and I was
dreaming of the danger I had undergone some years
before in crossing the Tagliamento at midnight by the
light of torches, during a flood, when I was waked by the
explosion of the infernal-machine.” “We are blown up !”
he exclaimed, to Bessières and Lannes, who were in the
carriage. “Drive on " said Napoleon. The coachman,
who was intoxicated, heard the order, and, having mis-
taken the explosion for a salute, lashed his horses up to
the theatre. The machine had been fired by a slow-match,
and the explosion took place just twenty seconds too soon.
Summary justice was executed upon the immediate perpe-
trators of this infamous design; and not long after the
blood of the Duke d'Enghien atoned dearly for the part,
whatever it may have been, that the Bourbons had taken
in these murderous schemes. -. - - -
LXXXVIII.
After the Battle of Marengo, Austria had been glad
enough to sign an armistice; but being somewhat re-assured
by the attempts upon the life of Napoleon, she delayed
the final negotiations of the treaty for five months; when
Napoleon, perceiving that he was being trifled with by the
Austrian Cabinet, gave orders in November to all his
generals to put their divisions in march along the frontiers
of the French dominions. The shock was instantaneous,
from the Rhine to the Mincio. Brune overwhelmed
the Austrians on the Mincio; Macdonald held the
Tyrol, and Moreau achieved the glorious victory of Ho-
hemlinden. With three victorious armies, either of which
could now have marched triumphantly into Vienna,
Napoleon hesitated long enough before taking that final
step to allow Austria to sign an honest and definitive
peace. The Treaty of Luneville (February 9th, 1801)


116 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
wrung from the Austrian Emperor, who also acted as
chief of the German Empire, a guarantee to France of
her boundary of the Rhine, the possession of Tuscany,
the union of the Batavian Republic with the French, the
existence and integrity of the Cis-Alpine and -- Ligurian
Republics, and a final withdrawal from the coalition
against France. Mr. Pitt now considered his diplomatic
note to Talleyrand replied to in full; and when he read
the bulletin of Marengo, he threw aside a map of Europe
which he held in his hand, and said, “Fold it up; we
shan't want it again these twenty years!”
LXXXIX.
The British nation had now become tired of the policy
of Pitt, which held England in hostility against France,
and made Europe a universal battle-field. Perceiving
that he could not long continue to press his policy upon
the British Parliament, he resigned office, and Mr. Ad-
dington became his successor. Napoleon was determined
to bring England to a negotiation of peace and a recog-
nition of the French Republic. After the news of the
reverses which had happened to his Egyptian army, and
the great sea-victory of Copenhagen by Nelson, Napoleon
gathered an armament of 100,000 men on the coasts of
France, with a flotilla sufficiently large to effect a landing
in England whenever circumstances should seem to favour
such a movement.
It has always been doubted whether Napoleon seri-
ously entertained the purpose of invading Great Britain,
but he succeeded, at all events, in convincing the world
for the time that such was his design; and Lord Nelson
was put in command of the mightiest fleet England could
gather for the Channel. English statesmen seemed to
feel that the Salvation of Great Britain depended upon
keeping Napoleon from landing on her coasts; for it was



PEACE witH ENGLAND. 117.
supposed that, once on the shore of Englana at the head
of 100,000 men, he would have marched on London and
taken possession of the British capital. The British
ministry and the British nation had become thoroughly
convinced of the folly of Pitt's policy; and when the
Peace of Amiens was signed (March 25th, 1802), it was
amidst universal demonstrations of joy in Paris and
London, and, indeed, throughout the British and French
empires, and all civilised nations, &
*...*.*... ..., - XC, . . . . . . ,
For nearly ten years the English had been shut off
from the Continent; and it is estimated that within a few
weeks upwards of a hundred thousand crossed the Chan-
nel. Fox and many other British statesmen, and a vast
number of English noblemen, scholars, artists, men of
learning, rank, and talents, thronged the levees of the
First Consul; and they were all received with courtesy
and kindness. It was hoped that a period of permanent
peace had arrived, when kinder and nobler feelings could
be cultivated between the two nations, - .
In the meantime, Napoleon had been working cease-
lessly and intensely in the great business of re-construct-
ing society, whose foundations in France had been so com-
pletely upheaved by the Revolution. The inauguration of
Christian worship once more in France is a fact we have
only alluded to ; but it deserves, among the achievements
of Napoleon, to be ranked perhaps in the very first place.
France was now an infidel nation. It was the fashion,
from the saloon of the elegant classes to the rabble of the
streets, to believe that there was no God. It required no
little strength of purpose to take this step. “Religion,”
said he, “is a principle which cannot be eradicated from
the heart of man.” “Last Sunday evening,” he said, “I
was walking here alone, and the church-bells of the vil-



118 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
lage of Ruel rang at sunset. I was strongly moved, so
vividly did the memory of early days come back with
that sound. If it be thus with me, what must it be with
others? In re-establishing the Church, I consult the
wishes of the great majority of my people.”
xCI.
A
In the life of Cardinal Fesch we have already given a
brief history of the Concordat; and Notre Dame was pre-
pared for a solemn and magnificent ceremony on the occa-
sion of its ratification. Napoleon was present with a
retinue more brilliant, perhaps, than would have attended
any sovereign in Europe. It was about this period, too,
that Napoleon turned his attention to the organisation of
a system of national education; and Monge, the celebrated
savan, drew up the plan for the establishment of the
Polytechnic School, which became the fountain of light
and eminence to the French people and the whole conti-
ment of Europe. Every facility was also furnished to the
corps of Savans, on their return from Egypt, for arranging
and preparing for the use of the world the results of their
explorations in the East. When these results were pub-
lished, the learned world felt that the Egyptian and Syrian
campaigns had so materially contributed to the cause of
science that it would be a source of far more enduring
glory to the conqueror than all his victories. He also
commenced the Herculean labour of preparing a code of
law for the French nation; and in this work, as in every-
thing else that he undertook, he not only laid tribute
, upon all the learning of his country, but he exhausted
secretary after secretary by the intensity and protraction
of their labours. The world is so familiar with the Code
Napoleon, and the influence it has had upon the science
of jurisprudence and the institutions of Europe, that we
need only glance at it. . ;

THE LEGION OF HONOUR. 119
… - xCII. . . . . . .
A vast number of great public works which he had
before projected were now begun, and afterwards carried
into execution—canals extending the inland navigation
of France, bridges across rivers, roads between important
places; museums for the collection of whatever illustrated
history, science, or the arts; monuments in honour of illus-
trious men and great events, schools for learning and art,
and other great enterprises, which bespoke the genius of
Napoleon for civil administration as impressively as his
victories had his talent for War. - ". . . . . . . .
He also established the order of the Legion of Honour
not long after this period, and for reasons which to his
counsellors of state are thus reported on authentic autho-
rity: “They talk about ribbons and crosses being the
playthings of monarchs, and say that the old Romans had
no system of honorary rewards. The Romans had patri-
cians, knights, citizens, and slaves—for each class different
dresses and different manners—mural crowns, civic crowns,
ovations, triumphs, and titles. When the noble band of
patricians lost its influence, Rome fell to pieces—the
people were a vile rabble. It was then that you saw the
fury of Marius, the proscriptions of Scylla, and afterward
of the emperors. In like manner Brutus is talked of as
the enemy of tyrants: he was an aristocrat, who stabbed
Caesar because Caesar wished to lower the authority of the
senate. You talk of child's rattles—be it so : it is with
such rattles that men are led. I would not say that to
the multitude, but in a council of statesmen one may
speak the truth. I do not believe that the French people
love liberty and equality. Their character has not been
changed in ten years. They are still what their ancestors,
the Gauls, were—vain and light. They are susceptible of
only one sentiment—honour. It is right to afford nou-


120 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
rishment to this sentiment, and to allow of distinctions.
Observe how the people bow before the decorations of
foreigners, Voltaire calls the common soldiers ‘Alex-
anders at five sous a day.” He was right. It is just so.
Do you imagine you can make men fight by reason'
Never ! You must bribe them with glory, distinctions,
rewards. To come to the point—during ten years there
has been a talk of institutions. Where are they All has
been overturned. Our business is to build up. There is
a Government with certain powers. As to all the rest of
the nation, what is it but grains of Sand? Before the
republic can be definitely established, we must as a foun-
dation cast some blocks of granite on the soil of France.
In fine, it is agreed that we have need of some kind of
institutions. If this Legion of Honour is not approved,
let some other be suggested. I do not pretend that it
alone will save the state, but it will do its part.”
XCIII.
The Legion of Honour was necessary at that time in
Erance, and it may be necessary there for a long time to
come. When Napoleon had himself seen the fruit of it
in some thousands of instances, he said to a friend at St.
Helena, “This Order was the reversion of everyone who
was an honour to his country, stood at the head of
his profession, and contributed to the national prosperity
and glory. Some were dissatisfied because the decora-
tion was conferred alike on officers and soldiers; others,
because it was given to civil and military merit indis-
criminately; but if this Order ever cease to be the re-
compense of the brave private, or be confined to military
men alone, it will cease to be what I made it—the Legion
of Honour.” - 2. -
The Legion of Honour was instituted the 15th of May,
1802. On the 2nd of June of the same year, Napoleon


TRIBUTE TO WASHINGTON, 121
had visited Lyons to address, in their native tongue, a
convention of four hundred and fifty Italian Deputies,
who had assembled in that city to establish a permanent
and independent Cis-Alpine Republic, and confer on him
the honour of its Presidency. On the 15th of May, 1802,
Napoleon, by the act of the Senate, and the universal suf-
frages of the French people, was appointed Consul for life.
We should in another place have noticed an act of
Napoleon soon after he was first chosen Consul, which too
many of his biographers have failed to record. While
these turbulent scenes were then being enacted on the
banks of the Seine, the founder of the young republic of
the West had peacefully breathed his last in the waveless
repose of Mount Vernon, and his grave was wet with the
tears of a nation's sorrow and gratitude. When Napoleon
heard that he was no more, he said, “The great light of
the world has gone out ;” and taking the pen in his hand,
in the following Order of the Day he thus announced the
decease of the great patriot to the Consular Guard and the
armies of France: “Washington is dead. This great
man fought against tyranny ; he established the liberty of
his country. His memory must always be dear to the
French people as well as to all the free of both worlds, and
especially to the French soldiers, who, like him and his
American troops, fight in defence of liberty and equality.
Therefore, the First Consul has ordered that for the space
of ten days crape shall be hung on all the colours and
standards of the Republic.” .
No American can read this tribute from the greatest
man of Europe to the virtues of the greatest man of
America without emotion, Nor can we quite forget the
contrast it offers to the course of the British Government.
Sprung from Anglo-Saxon stock, descended from noble
122 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
English ancestors, the founder of a New England on this
side of the Atlantic that seems destined to perpetuate the
language, laws, religion, arts, and civilisation of Old Eng-
land to distant ages and races of men—we have always
regretted that Pitt could not have outrivalled Napoleon by
some act of veneration to the memory of Washington.
, XCV. , - … . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The armistice of Amiens lasted till March 13, 1803,
when Great Britain again declared war against France.
Her agents throughout the world had been instructed
suddenly to seize all the commerce of the French nation,
wherever found; and two hundred vessels, containing at
least fifteen millions of dollars of property, fell at once
into the hands of England. Napoleon, on the very night
the news reached him, retaliated by arresting upwards of
ten thousand Englishmen then in France. England made
a loud and prolonged Scream of horror at this act of des.
potism, and endeavoured to excite the sympathy of all
Europe on her side, and the abhorrence of mankind against
Napoleon, because of the violation of private rights and
the immense amount of personal suffering and sacrifice
caused thereby. But the provocation had been severe
enough, and it would have been very hard to show that a
confiscation and robbery of 15,000,000 dollars of French
property had not caused as much suffering to the people -
of France as the arrest of ten thousand Englishmen had
to the people of England. - .
The flames of war were again lighted in every part of
Europe; and again 160,000 French soldiers were marshalled
on the coasts of France, threatening another invasion of
England. Once more the loyalty and patriotism of Great
Britain were kindled into a blaze; beacon-fires blazed
along the hills; camps were established along the coast,
and King George himself went familiarly through them
to inspire his soldiers,

EXECUTION OF THE DUKE D’ENGHIEN. 123
- ... :::::::::::::::: XCVI, w -
At this period England had brought every engine of
power to the accomplishment of the overthrow of Napo-
leon, and, in conjunction with the exiled Bourbons, other
attempts were made upon the life of the First Consul.
Every attempt, however, proved unavailing, because it
seemed impossible that any conspiracy aimed against the
chief of the State could elude the sleepless vigilance and
subtle cunning of Fouché. A vast deal has been written
on a subject we are now to dispose of in a single para-
graph. Men of sense will never believe that the agents
of England and the Bourbons were not making every
attempt in their power to assassinate Napoleon. Con-
spiracy after conspiracy was detected ; and there could
have been no mistake on one point, that they had their
origin with Napoleon's political enemies. Their con-
nexion with the Bourbons and the Jesuitical diplomatists
was satisfactorily traced. Napoleon resolved upon re-
taliation. The Duke d'Enghien, the heir of Condé, was
suddenly arrested in his castle in the Duchy of Baden, on
the evening of the 14th of March (1804), and conveyed
to the citadel of Strasbourg, where he was confined three
days, and at midnight conveyed to Paris. After a few
hours imprisonment in the Temple, he was sent to the
castle of Vincennes, the old state prison of France. He
was tried by a court-martial in the most summary and
hasty manner, and pronounced guilty of having fought
against the Republic, which was doubtless true, and he
gloried in it. He was condemned to death, led down a
winding stair-way by torch-light, and shot in a ditch in
the castle at six o'clock in the morning, and his body
thrown into a grave which had been prepared for him.
It was a cold, merciless murder, and the young Condé's
heroic and noble character made all Europe sad for his


124 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
fate; but it produced precisely the result Napoleon in- º
tended by it, and he always rejoiced that it was done.
The kings, princes, jesuits, and despots of Europe, who
had crushed nations into the earth for successive ages,
and perpetrated interminable catalogues of crime, sacri-
ficing whole generations for the selfish purposes of power
and ambition, saw nothing sacredin the life of Napoleon,
It was not, in their estimation, murder to assassinate him,
for he was a usurper. There was something sacred about
the life of the Duke d'Enghien, for through his veins
flowed the blood of a royal prince. The Royalists of
Europe were chilled with horror; and they turned pale at
the thought that they were dealing with a man who would
as coolly write the death-warrant of a Condé as they
would of a Bonaparte. The death of the Duke d'Enghien
was intended to be a retaliation, and it was a fearful one.
No more attempts were made upon the life of the Consul.
§. ...}}}......: 2.É. ...º.º. xCVII.
Until Europe casts aside that false and fatal principle,
that the life of a king is any more sacred than the life of
any other man, until she plucks up by the roots the foul
upaş-tree of hereditary rank and nobility and royal pre-
rogatives, till that moment republicanism can never exist
on the Continent. It is a plant which must grow up in
the clear sunshine of the eternal principle of theinalienable
rights of man; and all the struggles of European nations
for republic institutions will be dreams of romance until
this great principle is for ever established. Whether
Europe will ever reach, in our times or in the future, that
political position in philosophy and in government which
the American Republic started out on seventy years ago,
remains yet to be seen. England never would have
thought of making war on the French Republic had not
the head of Louis XVI. rolled from the block. She would




EON I.
NAPOL




- Liu justification to adduce for her declaration of
in violation of the Treaty of Amiens, had she not
sen furnished with one by the opportune murder of the
uke d'Enghien, “Peace to the ashes of the young
Condé!” said the English; and say we, “Peace to the
ashes of Charles I., Anna Boleyn, Lady Jane Grey, and
Sir Walter Raleigh ſº
On the 18th of May, 1804, by the ad
and the universal assent of the Fre
assumed the imperial title and dignit
the following December, in the mids ..º.
imposing and brilliant scenes ever enacted on the earth,
Napoleon and Josephine were crowned in Notre Dame
by Pius VII, the Pontiff of Rome. The senators of the
Italian Republic requested that the Emperor would be
crowned as their King, at Milan; and on the following
May 26th, 1805, in the Cathedral of Milan, he assumed
the Iron Crown of the Lombard Kings,
º xcvHL - º
Napoleon had scarcely entered his capital after the
return from the coronation in Italy, before he learned that
a new coalition had been set on foot against him, and that
England, Russia, Austria, and Sweden, with half a
million men, were preparing once more to light the flames
of battle among fifty nations, to reinstate the Bourbons
on the throne of France. Napoleon desired peace—he
wanted leisure to prosecute and perfect the great public
works he had begun or projected; and he went as far as
true honour and humanity could prompt a great man to
preserve the tranquillity of the Continent. He again ad-
dressed a letter to the King of England, which breathed
a spirit of magnanimity; but again he was treated with
insolence and contempt. Napoleon, however, could not
believe that Austria would trample another treaty into the


















126 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
dust, and so soon, too, after the fatal day of Marengo;
and he sent a messenger to Frankfort-on-the-Maine to
learn the truth. But the envoy soon returned with the
best maps of the German Empire, and, opening them on
the council-table of the Tuileries, said, “The Austrian
general is advancing on Munich, the Russian army is in
motion, and Prussia will join them.” The Emperor of
Russia had also, by post-horses, pushed on to Berlin to
win over the Prussian monarch to the great Bourbon
coalition; and, to play his part with more effect, the Cos-
sack asked his royal brother to attend him to the tomb
of his ancestor. They descended by torch-light to the
vault where Frederick the Great had been laid after his
battles; and there, over the honoured dust, and pointing
to the sword and orders of the immortal conqueror, which
lay on his coffin—as if those emblems could impart
deeper solemnity to the oath—the Cossack made the heir
of Frederick swear to join the European coalition. A
few weeks afterwards the hero of Austerlitz also descended
to that death-chamber, and said to an attendant, “These
orders and sword shall witness no other scene of perjury.
over the ashes of Frederick.”
XCIX.
Finding another campaign against the kings of Europe
inevitable, and unable by words of kindness or treaties
of peace to divert its frightful calamities, the young
Emperor of the French gathered his eagles and led them
toward the Danube. To embrace even the outlines of
this magnificent campaign, whole volumes have been
written, Napoleon's army, which from the French coasts
had so lately sent terror to the remotest hamlet of
England, had now crossed the Rhine in six divisions,
headed by Soult, Marmont, Vandamme, Davoust, Ney,
and Murat. Before a month had passed, 20,000 prisoners

NAPOLEON AT VIENNA. 127
had fallen into the hands of the victorious generals; and
Mack, the Austrian commander, who had shut himself
up in the Castle of Ulm, capitulated with 36,000 men
and fifty pieces of cannon. As the news spread, it car-
ried consternation through Europe. Sir Walter Scott.
says, “The death of William Pitt was accelerated by the
campaign of Ulm and Austerlitz, as his health had been
previously injured by the defeat of Marengo.” .
A Russian and Austrian army of 50,000, advancing to
the relief of Ulm, now retreated from the victorious
columns of France into Moravia, where the Czar had
fixed his head-quarters as a rallying-point for both armies.
Napoleon was advancing on Vienna, and the Emperor
Francis fled from his capital to the camp of Alexander,
at Brunn. On the 13th of November, Napoleon's army
entered Vienna, and he took up his head-quarters in the
imperial palace of the Schoenbrun. Probably the cam-
paign would have now ended, had not the news come of
the Battle of Trafalgar. This splendid victory had put
an end to the naval power of France, and swept her flag
from the ocean. “Heaven has given the empire of the
sea to England,” said Napoleon; “but to us has fate
decreed the dominion of the land.” He determined to
respond to the cannon of Nelson from the centre of
Europe. .
. . C. . . . . . . .
He left Vienna at the head of his army and marched
towards Brunn, where the Austrian and Russian forces
were concentrated under the eyes of their two Emperors.
The armies met on the 1st December (1805), and pre-
pared for battle the following day. At midnight, when
everything was ready and his mighty host was sleeping
on the field, the Emperor laid himself down by a watch-
fire for sixty minutes, then rose, mounted his horse, and
began to reconnoitre. He wished to escape observation,


128 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
but some of his wakeful soldiers recognised him ; and in
a few moments piles of straw were thrown together, and
they lit up his path as he rode from post to post, while
shout rose above shout till the camp rang with the wild
acclamations of 80,000 soldiers. Napoleon could not
account for so unusual a demonstration, and he was on
#
the point of suppressing it by an order that would have
been obeyed. But the shouts told him it was the anni-
versary-day of his coronation; and in their uncontrollable
enthusiasm he found a pledge of its glorious celebration.
An old grenadier approached him and said, “Sire, you
will not need to expose yourself. I promise, in the name
of the grenadiers of the army, that you will have to fight
only with your eyes; and we will bring you the flags and
artillery of the Russians to celebrate the anniversary of
your coronation.” .
He rode back to his bivouac, a straw-cabin without a
roof, which his grenadiers had prepared for him, and
wrote a proclamation to his army, in which he said—
“Soldiers, I shall myself direct your battalions. If, with
your accustomed bravery, you carry confusion and dis-
order among the hostile ranks, Ishall keep out of the fire;
but if the victory is for a moment uncertain, you will see
your Emperor in the front of your ranks.” “This,”
said Napoleon, as he threw down the pen, “is the noblest
evening of my life; but I shall lose too many of these
brave fellows to-morrow.” . -- - gº ... . . ."
. . . . . . . . CI. .” < . .
The whole camp had risen, and there could be no more
sleep that night. Napoleon again mounted, and, calling
his marshals and generals together, gave them his orders,
and the whole army waited for day-break. Towards
morning a thick fog overspread the vast plain of Auster-
litz, and covered both armies. This omen cast a gloom for
a moment over the French battalions; but when the


THE BATTLE OF AUSTERLITZ, 129
sun came up, it rolled the mists into heaven and flooded
the field of Austerlitz with splendour. A single glance
told that both armies were ready for conflict.
Napoleon was at this instant surrounded by his lieu-
tenants, and, at a word, Marshals Davoust, Lannes, Soult,
and Bernadotte, and Prince Murat, flew to lead their
divisions to battle; while Napoleon himself, with Mar-
shal Berthier, Junot and all his staff, with ten battalions
of his guard, and ten battalions of Oudinot's grenadiers,
and forty pieces of cannon, made up the reserve, ready to
strike wherever they could decide the fortunes of the day.
Such were the scenes being enacted on the French side.
Across the plain glittered a not less confident and still
more numerous host, under the eyes and orders of the
Emperors of Russia and Austria, and led by the princes
and marshals of two Empires. Two mightier or more
magnificent armies never met in the shock of battle,
CII.
Riding along the lines on one of his fleetest horses,
Napoleon said, “Soldiers, we must end the campaign to-
day with a thunderbolt.” “Long live the Emperor "
rang from 80,000 men, drowning the blast of the bugles
which sounded to battle. Two hundred heavy cannon
opened their fire; powerful divisions engaged both wings
of the enemy, and Murat charged the centre with his
dreadful cavalry. For one hour two hundred thousand
heroes struggled for the Supremacy of Europe. The line
of battle swayed to and fro over the plain like a prairie
on fire. The soul of Napoleon seemed to have passed into
his entire army, and wherever his columns charged they
trampled whole battalions on the plain. Division after
division gave way; and from the heights of Austerlitz
the two allied Emperors saw their army broken and put
to flight, -
E.
130 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
CIII,
The whole conflict had been one of terror; but when the
Cossack host fled from the field, even Napoleon turned
away from the sight. The right wing, which had longest
contested the day, and made Lannes, with Murat's cavalry,
recoil three times from their deadly onset, were driven at
last into a hollow, where they attempted to escape across
a lake on the ice. Many had fallen, but 20,000 were in
full flight. Napoleon's batteries were trained on their
track, and a heavy cannonade broke the ice, and they
sunk for ever ! The ruin was so complete, it seemed
more like the destruction of the host of Senacherib by
the breath of Heaven than the work of man. The allied
Emperors, with the shattered remnants of their army of
100,000 men, fled in terror from the field. Thus ended
the Battle of Austerlitz, or, as the victorious French
grenadiers always persisted in calling it, the Battle of the
Emperors. r
. .. - CIV. -
At midnight the flying Emperors halted for council;
and it was decided to despatch a messenger to Napoleon
before daylight, with proposals for peace. The envoy was
courteously received, and arrangements were made for
a meeting of the Austrian and French Emperors the
following day. - .
They met at ten o'clock near a mill, about three leagues
from Austerlitz, each sovereign being attended by his
suite and guards. Being first on the ground, Napoleon
ordered two fires to be made; and with a squadron of his
guard drawn up at a distance of about two hundred paces,
he awaited the arrival of Francis. He soon came in
sight, accompanied by several princes and generals, and
an escort of Hungarian cavalry, who halted as the French
had done, Napoleon walked to Francis's landau and em-


MEETING of THE EMPERORs. 131
braced him; and both Emperors, with only two atten-
dants—Prince John of Lichtenstein near Francis, and
Marshal Berthier near Napoleon — went to the fire.
Meantime, the suite of the two sovereigns drew around
the other fire, which had been made a few paces distant
across the highway. . .
The interview lasted an hour, when the two sovereigns
separated after a mutual embrace—Napoleon saying, in
the hearing of the gentlemen of the suites, “I agree to
it ; but your majesty must promise not to make war on
me again.” “No, I promise you I will not,” was Francis's
reply, “and I will keep my word.” He did make war
again on France as soon as he dared; and thus, one by one,
did every sovereign in Europe violate his honour and
faith. . . , º ‘. . . . . . .
It was most definitely understood that the Emperor
of Russia, although not present, was to give his adhesion
to the armistice just concluded by his ally of Austria.
He so assured Marshal Davoust, who had pursued him
the night of the battle, and now held him in his power
with the entire remnant of his army ; but subsequent
events only showed that the Russian had descended to
the meanness of alie to save himself.

CV.
But Napoleon believed the “royal word” of the Haps-
burgh Emperor, and allowed the Russians to retire un-
molested to their own territory. He soon after concluded
the Treaty of Presburgh with Francis (December 15,
1805), and another treaty with Prussia (December 26),
at Vienna, which he supposed would secure to all Europe
the blessings of peace. .
As a matter of course, the victor of Austerlitz made his
own terms in these negotiations. Austria gave up the
last of her Italian usurpations to be annexed to the king-
§

132 NAPOLEON B(
****
dom of Italy, and the Tyrol to Bavaria, and yielded to
other stipulations which the conqueror demanded; but
the moderation of Napoleon, in the moment of victory,
excited the surprise and admiration of Europe,
CVI, .
To show the duplicity and treachery of the Russian Em-
peror, it is necessary only to state that news soon reached
Napoleon of the joint entry of the Russian and English
forces into Naples. Before an hour had passed, Napoleon
had come to a decision which made the treacherous Bour-
bons of Naples exiles from their throne. He despatched
couriers to the army of Italy, ordering them to prepare
to march, and to his brother Joseph at Paris to lead them
to Naples, drive out its tyrants, and take possession of
the throne himself. His orders were obeyed -


CWII,
The campaign of Austerlitz consolidated the Empire of
Napoleon; and when he returned to France he witnessed

a delirium of exultation and joy. Then followed scenes
of splendour and pageantry Europe had not witnessed -
since the gorgeous days of the Crusades. Wherever the
victorious eagles of Napoleon had gone, new thrones,
dukedoms, principalities, and sceptres arose for his kins-
men and heroes. Europe would have pomp and tinsel,
and Napoleon gave them to her. He matched the blood
of the people with the blood of princes—he substituted
the genuine aristocracy of nature for the false aristocracy
of birth. Daily edicts inaugurated new kingdoms, and
proclaimed new kings. Coronation † -, ...}
royal alliance followed royal alliance, each attended by
brilliant fötes, until Europe seemed to have become but a
vast theatre gazing on the imperial drama Napoleon was
enacting at Paris, -- . .
3 #: ; onation,

NAPOLEON'S PUBLIC WORKS. 133
---. cVIII.
But the honest republican, or the man of real progress,
penetrates this glittering vail of flimsy splendour to dis-
cover what substantial monuments, what noble institu-
tions, what great public works, were slowly rising in the
background, dimmed for the moment by the glare of
crowns and fêtes, that would survive the wreck of this
gossamer structure, and endure to bless mankind when
every dynasty of Europe shall have crumbled. We will
briefly glance at some of these enduring things, all of
which were rapidly advancing, undisturbed by the con-
vulsions of Europe. ... . . . .
- º CIX.
We will enumerate them in the language of Napoleon
himself. “The magnificent docks of Antwerp and Flush-
ing, capable of containing the most numerous fleets, and
sheltering them both from the fury of the tempest and
the attacks of the enemy—the hydraulic works of Dun-
kirk, Havre, and Nice—the gigantic harbour of Cher-
bourg—the maritime works in Venice—the beautiful
roads from Antwerp to Amsterdam—the plan and com-
mencement of the canal intended to connect Amsterdam
with Hamburg and the Baltic—the roads along the banks
of the Rhine—the road from Bourdeaux to Bayonne—
the passes of the Simplon, Mont-Cenis, Mont-Genève, and
the Comiche, which open up the Alps in four directions,
are works which exceed in boldness, grandeur, and art
anything ever attempted by the Romans. The bridges
of Jena, Austerlitz, Sèvres, and Mours—that over the
Durance—those over Bourdeaux, Moiassac, Rouen, Turin,
and Lisere—the canal which connects the Rhine and the
Rhone by the Doubs, and unites the German Ocean with
the Mediterranean—that which unites the Scheldt and
the Somme, and forms a channel for commerce between


134 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Amsterdam and Paris—that which joins the Rance and
the Vilaine—the canal of Arles, that of Pavia, and that
of the Rhine—the draining of the marshes of Bourgoin,
Cotentin, and Rochefort—the works undertaken for
draining the Pontine Marshes, which would have been
completed in 1820–the rebuilding and reparation of
almost all the churches in France, demolished or injured
in the Revolution—the construction in eighty-three de-
partments of buildings as establishments for the extir-
pation of mendicity, by offering work and a refuge to the
poor against the infirmities of age and the evils of desti-
tution—the embellishments of Paris, the Louvre, the
Exchange—the square on the Quai d'Orsay, the triumphal
arch of the Barrière de l'Etoile, the granaries, the Made-
leine, the canal of Ourg, and the subterraneous channels
for the distribution and the construction of sewers—the
restoration of the monuments of Rome—the re-establish-
ment of the manufactories of Lyons, and the recon-
struction of its buildings and streets destroyed in 1793—
the erection of many hundred manufactories of cotton, of
beet-root sugar, or of wood, all raised by the aid of
millions supplied from the civil list—50,000,000 em-
ployed in repairing and embellishing the palaces of
the crown—60,000,000 in furniture placed in the
royal residences in France, Holland, Turin, and Rome—
60,000,000 in diamonds as a dotation to the crown of
France, all purchased with my treasures—the Musée
Napoleon, estimated at more than 400,000,000, created
by my victories, and containing nothing but objects legi-
timately acquired by treaties; these are the monuments
left by my passage, and history will record that all this
was accomplished in the midst of continual wars, without
a loan, whilst the public debt was in the course of ex-
tinction every year with a normal budget of less than
800,000,000 for more than 40,000,000 of people in the





conFEDERATION OF THE RHINE. 135
Empire, and when the army amounted to 600,000 men,
with the crews of a hundred sail of the line.” -
CX.
At this period, if Napoleon had attempted to play the
same game as England, he could have realised his dream
of a second Norman conquest. Through storms and tem-
pests, it is all vain to say that he could not have landed on
the shores of England ; and had he done so, it is equally
vain to say that he could not, with so mighty an army,
flushed with so many victories, have made an onset which
England (always lacking in a well-organised militia) could
not have resisted. Meantime, the King of Sweden having
landed with an army in Germany, and besieged a garrison
of Bernadotte, Napoleon decided to dethrone the dynasty
of Gustavus, and he finally accomplished his purpose,
CXI.
One of the most important consequences of the Battle
of Austerlitz was the Confederation of the Rhine. The
Rings of Bavaria and Wurtemberg, Murat, the Grand
Duke of Berg, and several other sovereigns of Germany,
had leagued togetherin an alliance with the French empire;
and they constituted so formidable a power, Napoleon
added a new title to his name—the Protector of this Con-
federacy. From this moment the boasted empire of the
Caesars, which had been assumed by the Hapsburg race,
fell to rise no more. . --
Thus Napoleon became Sovereign of a principal part of
Germany, and his allies were obliged to furnish at his call
60,000 armed men. Thus ended the “Holy Roman
Empire,” which had existed a thousand years, -
Lockhart (Sir Walter Scott's son-in-law, and whose
“Life of Napoleon” is but a feeble paraphrase of Scott's)




136 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
says—“Mr. Pitt, who despaired of opposing Bonaparte
on the Continent after Marengo, did not long survive
the disastrous intelligence of Austerlitz. Worn out and
broken by the endless anxieties of his situation, not even
the glorious tidings of Trafalgar could revive the sink-
ing spirit of this great Minister. He died the 23rd of
January, 1806.”
CxII.
And well it was for England when he died. The bril-
liancy of his genius had well-nigh wrecked his country.
This was the man who gambled three thousand million
dollars in the game of crushing republics, and drenched
the Continent with blood, “to restore the ancient order of
things,” now rendered impossible. He might as well have
fought for the dynasty of Mohammed or the altars of
Zoroaster. Bourbons had become as impossible in Europe
as Haroun Al Raschids! So, too, at a later day, died
Castlereagh, with less genius and more crime, but not
more besotted by the foolery of Jesuitical policy.


CXIII,
Fox went to Pitt's funeral at Westminster Abbey, and
became Premier of Great Britain. He had boldly charged
the rupture of the Peace of Amiens on his great antago-
nist, Pitt ; and he confidently assured England on his
accession to power that she would enjoy the blessings of
peace. But finding himself environed with the ties and
attractions of office, he could not disenthral himself from
the influence of Pitt's policy; and this sturdy Liberal at
last became a reviler of the man of Austerlitz whom he
had once so valorously defended. Fox would not treat
with Napoleon till he gave up Malta | Napoleon would
neither do this nor recal his brother from the throne of
Naples; and Fox died. . . . . . . ; . . . . . . . . .

AGAIN WAR. 137
. cxlv.
Meantime, countless intriguers in the British Court were
stirring the embers of the half-smothered fire on the Con-
tinent, and over the graves of Pitt and Fox—whose ashes
were now peacefully reposing side by side in Westminster
Abbey—they lit again the torch of war, which brought
half a million of men once more to the field of battle.
Prussia had intrigued, evaded, and descended to the
most dishonourable tricks for eighteen months. “The
beautiful Queen of Prussia, and Prince Louis, brother of
the King, two characters whose high and romantic quali-
ties rendered them the delight and pride of the nation,
were foremost to nourish and kindle the popular indigna-
tion. The young mobility and gentry rose in tumult, broke
the windows of the ministers who were supposed to lean
to the French interests, and openly whetted their sabres
on the threshold-stone of Napoleon's ambassador.”
Such is the account we find in Lockhart's “ Napoleon.’
He even tells us exultingly that “ the lovely Queen
appeared in the uniform of the regiment which bore her
name, and rode at its head "
CXV.
Again the Jesuit Emperor of Russia, who had saved
himself by the basest of lies, visited Prussia; and although
it is not said that the farce of perjury was again enacted
over the coffin of the great Frederick, yet he plied the
pliant king with all the motives he could bring to his
aid. By his side, too, stood the English envoy, with his
money-bag in hand, offering all the gold the campaign
would require. .
| Such were the tricks and provocations which once more
woke up the French Emperor from his dream of peace,
and compelled him for the fourth time to dictate from


138 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. %
the field of victory the terms of an armistice to the shat-
tered monarchies of Europe.
*:::::::::::::. CXVI. - º
Again the hero of Austerlitz set his army of grena-
diers and marshals in motion. They marched by three
divisions—under Soult and Ney; Murat, Bernadotte, and
Davoust; and Tannes and Augereau. The first news the
truce-breaking King of Prussia received of the presence
of Napoleon in his dominions was from the explosion of
the magazines of Nauemberg, and the Battle of Saalfeld,
in which his brother fell. On the evening of the 13th
October (1806), Napoleon, with his army, pitched his tent
on the field of Jena. His heavy train of cannon was
forty hours' march behind, and something had to be done
at once. Behind him rose a ledge of rocks; and foreseeing
that his light field-pieces might there atone for the want
of larger guns, he set his men at work to cut a road up
through the rocks, where they dragged their guns and
planted a battery, which was to command the field on the
coming day. - .
CXVII, #
The Emperor of the French passed the whole night
with his army; helped to drag the guns to the cliffs; and
recalling the inspiring souvenirs of former campaigns,
robbed his battalions of repose, and transported them
with impatient rapture for the daybreak of another vic-
tory. Augereau commanded the right wing, Soult the
left, and Lannes the centre, and Murat the reserve of
cavalry, whose onset among wearied and heated columns
was to decide the day. -
Again, as at Austerlitz, a cloud of mist enveloped the
contending hosts; and both armies were closing in battle
before the sum revealed to either commander the divisions
of his foe, -


BATTLE OF JENA. 139
Marshal Soult received the first charge of the Prussians,
and it was a doubtful struggle—hand to hand; but
Ney's division drove the Prussians back. The sun had
now mounted the heavens, and so brilliantly that nothing
but the smoke of battle obstructed the view.
Napoleon saw the position of both armies, and ordered
a simultaneous charge throughout the lines. The Prus-
sians withstood the shock, and fought with the heroism
of patriotic despair. At last Napoleon, who, with a spy-
glass in his hand (the one he always used in battle, and
with which he could read the expression of a man at a
great distance), saw where a bold charge would decide
the battle, ordered Murat to advance with his cavalry.
A single blast of the bugle was enough. The chafing
squadrons, that had been snuffing the smoke of battle for
hours, leaped to the contest and dashed through the lines.
The Prussian columns were broken—infantry, cavalry,
guards, and grenadiers were wrapped in a winding-sheet
of smoke and death. When the conflict ended, and the
fresh north breeze lifted the battle-cloud from the plain,
20,000 Prussians were dead or taken, with 300 cannon,
60 royal standards, and 20 generals. Thus was defeated
an army of 150,000 men; and thus the Prussian monarchy
lay at the feet of the conqueror. .
CXVIII,
It was the hour for a terrible revenge, and the occasion
invited it ; but Napoleon invariably displayed more mode-
ration in the moment of victory than at almost any other
time in his life. On the bloody field of Jena, the routed
divisions that had escaped soon afterwara fell into the
hands of the French as they roamed over the country.
At Erfurth, Mollendorf and the Prince of Orange-Fulda
laid down their arms. General Kalkreuth's corps was
overtaken among the Hartz mountains, and Prince Eugene

140 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
surrendered to Marshal Bernadotte. Prince Hohenlohe
yielded his arms at Prenzlow, with a division of 20,000
men; and even the indomitable Blucher lost 4000 men
at Lubeck, and was finally compelled to surrender. The
fortresses of Stellno, Hamelin, Custrin, Spandau, and
Magdeburg capitulated. . * ,
§. ºjº CXIX,
Napoleon entered Berlin (Oct. 25, 1806); and, with the
exception of Konigsberg, whither the flying King of
Prussia had found refuge, the dominions of the House of
Brandenburg had departed. Then, more especially than
now, Prussia was a military state, and the people regarded
the destruction of the army as the overthrow of the
monarchy itself. This campaign had lasted but a week.
Napoleon had marked his stay at Berlin by what after-
wards became so famous as the “Berlin Decrees,” by
which he attempted to establish the continental system,
whose object was to shut out the commerce and inter-
course of Great Britain from the Continent of Europe.
The utter ruin of the maritime power of France, and
the almost universal supremacy of the French Empire on
the land, left Napoleon, in his own judgment, no other
means of retaliation; and through the continental system
he endeavoured for several years most strenuously to
annihilate all commercial intercourse between Great Britain
and the Continent.
*:::. .”
CXX.
At this moment Napoleon had but to proclaim the
union and independence of ancient Poland, and he would
still have preserved the prestige of constitutional liberty,
and the independence of nations—those great principles
for which France had been compelled to fight so long, and
to whose vindication he had himself devoted the mightiest

NAPOLEON AND POLAND. 141
energies of his character. The dismemberment of Poland
by the tyrants of Europe had inflamed the indignation of
mankind; and not only the Poles, but the friends of
Poland in every part of the world, now believed that the
hour had come for her restoration. The veteran Koski-
usco, who had been for half-a-century the Chevalier Bayard
of Liberty, battling for it among the frosts of Niemen
under the standard of his country, and by the side of
Washington in the forests of the New World—he, too,
believing the hour of Poland's emancipation was sounding,
sent an address to his countrymen from Paris on the 1st
of November, in which he said—“Beloved countrymen
and friends ! Arise | The Great Nation is before you—
Napoleon expects, and Koskiusco calls on you. We are
under the aegis of the monarch who vanquishes difficulties
as by miracles; and the resurrection of Poland is tooglori-
ous an achievement not to have been reserved for him by
the Eternal.” At the same time several distinguished
Polish generals in the French army sent through their
country a proclamation, which said—“Poles | Napoleon,
the Great, the Invincible, enters our country with an army
of 300,000 men. Without wishing to fathom the mystery
of his views, let us strive to merit his magnanimity. “I
willsee, he said to us, “whether you deserve to be a nation.”
Poles your Avenger, your Restorer is here ! Crowd from
all quarters to his presence, as children in tears hasten to
behold a succouring father, Present to him your hearts—
your arms. Rise to a man, and prove that you do not
grudge your blood to your country.” Napoleon also, in
one of his own bulletins, said—“Shall the throne of Poland
be re-established, and shall the Great Nation secure for it
respect and independence? Shall she recal it to life from
the grave? God only, who directs all human affairs, can
resolve this great mystery.” .


i42 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
CXXI.
In our brief record we cannot trace the progress of
events which for a while promised the independence of
Poland, but left her at last most cruelly disappointed and
deceived. Toward the close of December, the Russian
army, with powerful reinforcements, came to battle, and
made a gallant stand against the French army at Pultusk.
Other battles and skirmishes followed, but none of them
were decisive. On the whole, perhaps, the advantage lay
on the side of Napoleon's antagonists, for they had re-
stored their communications with the King of Prussia, at
Ronigsberg; and the French Emperor saw that another
day of Austerlitz or Jena alone could end the campaign.
Napoleon moved from his winter-quarters at Warsaw; and
on the 8th of February (1807), at day-break, the Battle
of Eylaw began. The French now had to contend, during
a wild snow-storm, with one of the most gallant armies
they had ever met. This terrible battle lasted fourteen
hours, and only closed just before midnight, leaving both
armies where they had stood in the morning, with 50,000
men lying on the plain between them. Napoleon's bul-
letins claimed a great victory, and the Russians did the
same. The next morning showed in whose favourfortune
had decided the day. Although the Russians had taken
twelve of Napoleon's eagles, they retreated, an hour after
the battle, on the road towards Konigsberg. Siege was
laid to Dantzie, and that fortified town capitulated on
the 7th of May, 1807.
- CXXII.
Meantime, finding that his forces were insufficient to
prostrate the enemy at a single blow, the French Em-
peror with the greatest celerity concentrated his armies
from different parts of the Empire; and by the 1st of
June he had an effective force of not less than 280,000
men to lead to battle. On the 14th of June, after



BATTLE OF FRIEDLAND. 143
having escaped all the snares laid for them, the subtle
genius of Napoleon compelled the Russians to battle.
From ten o'clock in the morning until four P.M., these
two mighty armies were closed in the struggle of one
of the bloodiest days the fields of Europe had ever
witnessed. For six hours the Russian line had sus-
tained charge after charge, and had neither recoiled nor
broken before infantry or cavalry. Napoleon, from his
point of observation near the battle-field, had witnessed
the failure of every stratagem and the charge of every
division, and at last, finding the day wasting away, and
his army melting under the merciless butchery of the
Russians, he rode across the plain, and led the whole
French army to the final charge. There was not a
general or a marshal in his Empire under whom the im-
perial troops would not behave gallantly ; but when the
Emperor put himself at the head of his army and led them
to the charge, nothing could resist the shock. Gradually
the Russian army began to yield, and in less than an hour
the rout was complete. They left the field and retreated
towards the Niemen. Thus ended the Battle of Fried-
land. -
- CXXIII.
Alexander sent (June 21) his lieutenant to ask for an
armistice, which was ratified on the 23rd ; and, in two
days after, the emperors met on a raft in the river Niemen,
near Tilsit, the town which gave its name to this cele-
brated treaty. The King of Prussia was admitted as a
party to the treaty, but on condition that he, with Alex-
ander, should sign Such stipulations in regard to states and
territories, and the continental system, as the victor was
inclined to impose. .
- º CXXIV. -
These two vast armies, which had so lately mingled in
the shock of battle, were now quartered with their gene-



144 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
rals in the same town, where a succession of imperial
fêtes, spectacles, and celebrations was witnessed, which
more resembled the magnificent tableaua of peace and
splendour in the capital of the French Empire than the
impromptu festivals of two hostile monarchs meeting in
a small town on the cold banks of the Niemen. The
“beautiful and fascinating Queen of Prussia” was present
with her husband; and every stratagem which wit or
genius could devise, and everyf tion to which beauty
could lend a charm, were brought into requisition to win
at least the admiration of the French Emperor; but she
had more than a Marc Anthony to deal with. His
Cleopatra was holding her imperial court at the Tuileries,
waiting with impatience the return of her husband from
another glorious campaign. The Queen was treated with
neglect, if not with rudeness, by the conqueror. Foiled
in her ambition, she could not survive the humiliation.
She died soon after of chagrin—a malady which often
proves as fatal to monarchs and princes as ordinary
diseases to common people,
CXXV.
There has probably never been a period in history when
the passions of so many millions were lashed into fury by
the storms of battle and revolution. In reading the
records of events, some of which we have glanced at thus
far, it is difficult to conceive how there could have been
one quiet hearthstone on the Continent. Grief, disap-
pointment, chagrin, mortification, betrayal, wounded pride,
and disappointed ambition, were almost as fatal perhaps
to human life in Europe for a quarter of a century as the
carnage of battle itself. On the ratification of the Treaty
of Tilsit (July 7th), Napoleon constructed from his con-
quests the kingdom of Westphalia for Jerome, who had
finally been restored to his brother's favour by divorcing


CHARACTER or NApoleoN. 145
his beautiful and accomplished American wife. Having
now wrung from the last of his reluctant enemies, except
England, the recognition of his imperial power, which
already embraced a wider territory and a far greater num-
ber of subjects than Charlemagne ruled over as the
Emperor of the West a thousand years before, Napoleon
hastened back to Paris, where the fêtes and celebrations in
honour of his achievements dazzled the eyes of the world,
and beggared sober description. Once more peace had
come to the agitated and bleeding nations of Europe;
and Napoleon, with that restless activity which could not
know repose, once more bent all his genius upon the civil
progress of France and Europe with the same intensity
that he prosecuted his military campaigns. He marshalled
and controlled institutions as irresistibly, as rapidly, and
with the same effect as he did battalions in war. As
some minute and exact idea of the man ought to be com-
municated to the reader of every life of Napoleon, we
have searched in vain for any which seemed to us more
just or better executed than we find from the pen of an
English historian who has never been accused of writing
too favourably of Napoleon. r
CXXVI.
Lockhart says—“Wherever the Emperor was, in the
midst of his hottest campaigns, he examined the details
of administration at home more closely, perhaps, than
other sovereigns of not half so great an empire did during
periods of the profoundest peace. His dearest amuse-
ment, when he had nothing else to do, was to solve
problems in geometry and algebra. He carried this
passion into every department of affairs; and having with
his own eye detected some errors in the public accounts
soon after his administration began, there prevailed
thenceforth, in all the financial records of the State, such
I.
146 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
accuracy as is not often exemplified in the affairs of a
large private fortune. Nothing was below his attention;
and he found time for everything. The humblest func-
tionary discharged his duty under a lively sense of the
Emperor's personal Superintendence; and the omnipotence
of his police came in lieu of the guarding powers of a free
press, a free senate, and public opinion. Except in poli-
tical causes, the trial by jury was the right of every
citizen. The Code Napoleon, that elaborate system of
jurisprudence, in the formation of which the Emperor
laboured personally along with the most eminent lawyers
and enlightened men of the time, was a boon of inesti-
mable value to France. “I shall go down to posterity,
said he, with just pride, “with the Code in my hand.’ It
was the first uniform system of laws the French monarchy
had ever possessed; and being drawn with consummate
skill and wisdom, it at this day forms the code not only of
France, but of a great portion of Europe besides. Justice,
as between man and man, was administered on sound and
fixed principles, and by unimpeached tribunals. . . . . .
Education became a part of the regular business of the
State ; all the schools and colleges being placed under
the immediate care of one of Napoleon's ministers, all
prizes and bursaries bestowed by the Government, and the
whole system so arranged that it was hardly possible for
any youth who exhibited remarkable talents to avoid the
temptations to a military career which on every side sur-
rounded him. . . . . . In the splendour of his victories,
in the magnificence of his roads, bridges, aqueducts, and
other monuments, in the general predominance to which
the nation seemed to be raised through the genius of its
chief, compensation was found for all financial burdens,
consolation for all domestie calamities, and an equivalent
for that liberty in whose name the tyrant had achieved
his first glories. But it must not be omitted that Napo-



CHARACTER OF NAPOLEON. 147
leon, in every department of his government, made it his
first rule to employ the men best fitted, in his mind, to do
honour to his service, by their talents and diligence. . . . .
He gratified the French nation by adorning the capital,
and by displaying in the Tuileries a court as elaborately
magnificent as that of Louis XIV. himself. The old
nobility, returning from their exile, mingled in those
proud halls with the heroes of the revolutionary cam-
paigns, and over all the ceremonials of these stately festi-
vities Josephine presided with the grace and elegance of
born to be a queen. In the midst of the pomp and
splendour of a court, in the ante-chambers where kings
jostled each other, Napoleon himself preserved the plain
andunadorned simpli ity f his on igi rol divºrce, ex-J -->
The great Emperor continued throughout to labour more
diligently than any subaltern in office. . . . . Napoleon
as Emperor had little time for social pleasures. His
personal friends were few ; his days were given to labour,
and his nights to study. If he was not with his army in
the field, he traversed the provinces, examining with his
own eyes into the minutest details of arrangement, and
even from the centre of his camp he was continually
issuing edicts which showed the accuracy of his observa-
tion during those journeys, and his anxiety to promote by
any means consistent with his great purpose the welfare
of every French district, town, or even village. The
manners of the court were at least decent. Napoleon.
occasionally indulged in amours unworthy of his character,
and tormenting to his wife; but he never suffered any
other female to possess the slightest influence over his
mind, nor insulted public opinion by any approach to
that system of unveiled debauchery which had during
whole ages disgraced the Bourbon court, and undermined
their throne.” .


148 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
CXXVII,
. Such was Napoleon in the height of his Empire, as he
stands drawn by the pen of his enemies. Up to this
moment we have followed him in his career with rejoicing
and satisfaction; hitherto we have travelled with him
along a sunny and exulting path. Now we shall follow
him as he begins to enter the eclipse, from which he will
never emerge. The day has gone by when historians who
have any reputation to lose charge upon Napoleon the
blame of the wars of France up to the peace of Tilsit.
There can scarcely be a higher authority to quote on this
point than that of Napier, himself an actor in many of
the scenes he describes, an honest, educated, bold, philoso-
phical man. He says—“Up to the Peace of Tilsit, the
wars of France were essentially defensive, for the bloody
contest that wasted the Continent so many years was not
a struggle for pre-eminence between ambitious powers—
not a dispute for some acquisition of territory, nor for the
political ascendancy of one or another nation—but a
deadly conflict to determine whether aristocracy or demo-
cracy should predominate—whether aristocracy or privilege
should henceforth be the principle of European govern-
ments.” .
- CXXVIII,
Napoleon, at this moment, stood on an eminence higher
than any human being had ever climbed to. There was
more power, vitality, genius, and glory in his Empire than
in any of the empires that had overshadowed the earth ;
and had he died at this moment, honest history would have
been his unclouded eulogy. Hitherto, he had displayed
absolute control over himself. His glory had been the
glory of France and of Europe. He had asserted and
established among the nations of the Old World those
eternal principles of justice and independence which they


THE court of MADRID. 149
have so recently been struggling to vindicate; but his
future career, although flashing with the most brilliant
achievements, probably did nothing to exalt or preserve
his fame. We shall continue, however, to trace him
briefly as he leaves the sunny heights of his unsullied
grandeur, for the clouded and stormy path down which he
went darkling to his fall. . •. : ". . . . -
We turn to Spain, whose momentary conquest consti-
tutes the next great act in the wonderful drama we are
tracing. … r 3
That ancient monarchy, which once extended its arms
around the globe, resting upon the Indies in the east
and the Indies in the west for two bases of its colossal
power, had slowly descended to her decadence ; and there
lay the mastadon remains of this effete monarchy of the
Middle Ages, lacerated by the Inquisition, corrupted by
gold, and made effeminate by inactivity, crushed by
tyrants, and stultified by the besotting reign of the priests.
Charles IV., the old and imbecile Bourbon King, saw his
nuptial bed disgraced by Godoy, who had been raised by
the guilty love of the Queen from the rank of a guards.
man to the embraces of the most dissolute woman in
Europe. To complete the infamy, a royal decree had
conferred upon him a rank superior to that of all the
grandees of Spain—the Prince of the Peace. The royal
palace at Madrid was a lazar-house of moral corruption.
Scenes of the most disgusting and beastly immoralities
were perpetrated in the apartments of the Queen, and even
monarchy itself all over Europe turned away in disgust
from the loathsome spectacle, Wenality and corruption
had annihilated every sentiment of honesty, and every
prompting of conscience. Ferdinand, the Crown Prince,
with most of the vices of the Court, and with something
of the spirit of youth about him, had formed a party
against his father, and was attempting to dethrone him.

150 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Murderers, with daggers dripping in blood, courtiers
enveloped in an atmosphere of lies, and courtesans with
shameless effrontery, filled the halls of the royal palace of
Madrid, and dictated laws to the crumbling monarchy of
Arragon and Castile. º
CXXIX.
Over the fall of such a State no lamentations have
come from history written in any other part of the world
than England. Sir Arthur Wellesley had been recalled
from the East Indies, where he had achieved all his fame
hitherto by a career of robbery and crime, extortion,
murder, and the extinction of nations, compared with
which Napoleon's worst acts of usurpation, in the height
of his ambition, paled into insignificance. And here we
will allow truth to arrest us for a single moment, while
we enter our protest against any of the complaints of
England or of English writers about the usurpations of
Napoleon. For the sole purpose of self-aggrandisement,
England has robbed more territory, taken more lives, con-
fiscated more property, enslaved more men, and wrought
wider and darker ruin on the plains of Asia, than Napo-
leon can ever be charged with, if upon his single head
were to rain down the curses of every widow and orphan
made in Europe for a quarter of a century. It is unholy
mockery of truth—it is Puritanic cant—it is English
spite against Napoleon's eagles, England began, under
the administration of Pitt, the work of crushing the
French Republic. She kept it up to gratify the ambition
and spite of her Ministers, and she carried it through to
maintain the position she had taken. It was all a costly,
and well-nigh a fatal mistake for England ; and her his-
torians have no reason whatever to vent their spleen upon
the only man on the Continent who set limits to the
proud empire of Britain,



THE WAR IN SPAIN. 151
CXXX.
Sir Arthur Wellesley, a proud, noble, incorruptible,
patriotic Englishman, had worked more misery for the
helpless princes and the millions of India than any of
his contemporaries; and with these laurels fresh on his
head was recalled to help on the crusade against Napoleon. .
He was now on the coast of Portugal, waiting an oppor-
tunity to defeat the designs of Napoleon, who had entered
into a treaty with Spain by which the effete monarchy of
the Braganzas was to be dismembered. Early in the
winter of 1807, Junot entered Portugal, and the Prince-
Regent fled from Lisbon to the Brazils (Feb., 1807), a few
hours only before the French army came in sight of the
capital. Soon after, one hundered thousand French troops
were quartered in Spain. Amidst crimes, corruptions,
domestic and national broils, old King Charles IV. abdi-
cated. Murat took possession of Madrid (March 24th);
and, on the 20th of April, Ferdinand, who had been
duped from the beginning, travelled on from stage to
stage, expecting to meet Napoleon, but he continued his
journey until he reached Bayonne, where, after dining
with the Emperor, he was informed by Napoleon's Minis-
ter that the Bourbons had ceased to reign in Spain. He
was required to resign all his claims in favour of Napoleon;
and, from the 5th of May, the old King, the shameless
Queen, and her infamous paramour, Godoy, enacted such
a scene before Napoleon as might well justify even an
English writer in saying, as Lockhart does. “In which
the profligate rancour of their domestic feuds reached
extremities hardly to have been contemplated by the
wildest imagination. The flagitious Queen did not, it is
said and believed, hesitate to signify to her son that
the King was not his father, and this in the presence
of that King and of Napoleon.” . . "

152 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
CXXIX,
Napoleon, without a cause and without justification,
seized on the hereditary possessions of this infamous
family, and had the whole race been blotted from the face
of the earth, humanity never could have wept over their
doom. But the attempt to keep Spain cost Napoleon a
mighty effort. A dreadful revulsion followed, beginning
in Madrid; and scenes of massacre succeeded throughout
all the great cities of Spain, fomented by the agents of
England, whose navies hung along the coast, inflaming
the passions of the multitude, and making the mob the
executor of her will. Tranquillity, however, was soon re-
stored by the victorious arms of Napoleon's lieutenants;
the Council of Castile was convoked to elect another
sovereign, and Joseph Bonaparte was unanimously declared
Ring of Spain. He was proclaimed July 24, 1808, and
England at once sprang to the contest, concentrating all
her power upon the Peninsula for a final struggle, as she
supposed, with the despot of Europe. The French divisions
met with repeated reverses; and perceiving that nothing
but his own presence and a more powerful army would
restore to his brother's reign the auspices of a favourable
fortune, the Emperor set out from Paris; and in the early
part of October, 1808, with 200,000 veteran troops, he
entered the Peninsula, recalling to the memory of his
soldiers the stirring Souvenirs which lingered around the
victorious legions of the Roman Empire. “Comrades,”
said Napoleon, “after triumphing on the banks of the
Danube and the Vistula, with rapid steps you have passed
through Germany. Let us bear our triumphant eagles to
the Pillars of Hercules, for there, too, we have our injuries
to avenge. You have surpassed the renown of modern
armies; but have you yet equalled the glory of those
Romans who, in one and the same campaign, were vic-


: RETREAT of corunnA, 153
torious on the Rhine and the Euphrates, in Illyria and on
the Tagus 7" Reaching Vittoria, where sumptuous pre-
parations had been provided for him, Napoleon leaped from
his horse, entered the first imm, called for his maps, laid
them out on the table, and in two hours the whole cam-
paign was decided, and the orders for the marching of
200,000 men despatched. On the 4th of December the
Emperor entered Madrid. A few hours after, amidst re-
joicings, fetes, festivals, and a general illumination, he
issued decrees which abolished the Inquisition of the
Jesuits, the feudal institutions of the Middle Ages, and all
tyranny in the Peninsula except his own. -
cxxxii.
Before his triumphant legions the undisciplined mob of
Wellington's armies fled in dismay, each one fighting as
best he could, and as Anglo-Saxons always will when they
must; he swept the Peninsula, Sir John Moore, a peerless
and a noble name, fell back in the retreat on Corunna, and
(January 16, 1809) he succeeded only in gaining time for
his army to embark on the English fleet ; but, in the
moment of this brilliant achievement, a cannon-shot laid
him among the ranks of the slain. The shadows of even-
ing had already fallen over the field of battle, and starlight
was glittering on the tideless breast of the Mediterranean,
that spread away in cerulean beauty from the coasts of
Grenada. His brave and beloved soldiers snatched a few
moments amidst the precipitation of the final hour, and dug
his grave and laid their commander, with his battle-mantle
for a shroud around him, to his last sleep. A Scotch
Schoolmaster, when he heard the news, among other in-
imitable lines on the burial of Sir John Moore, said,
falsely— 3
- Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him,
But nothing he’ll reck, if they'll let him sleep on
In the grave where the Britons have laid him.

154 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
The next morning the grenadiers of France, who had
been struck with admiration at the chivalry of the English
commander, gathered reverently around the new-made
grave; and, while the English fleet were yet visible on the
bosom of the Mediterranean, they erected a monument
over his ashes. : . . . . . . º
Thus for a while was the kingdom of Joseph Bonaparte
secured to him, but a storm was gathering once more
along the shores of the Danube, and Napoleon flew by
post-horses to Paris. He reached his capital (Jan. 22nd),
and prepared for another campaign against Austria, whose
Emperor had violated the Peace of Tilsit, and soon after
(April 6th) declared war against France. Couriers were
despatched with orders to the armies on the Rhine and
beyond the Alps, to concentrate themselves on the field;
and, with Josephine only in his carriage, Napoleon set
out for Strasbourg, . ãº
The Archduke Charles was in the field with 450,000
men ; and on the 13th of April he took command of the
campaign. At Låndshut (April 21st) the Archduke
Lewis was defeated with the loss of 9000 men, thirty
cannon, and immense military stores. The victor of Aus-
terlitz then fell on the Archduke Charles, who was strongly
posted at Eckmuhl with 200,000 men, confident of victory.
By a succession of most admirable movements, all Napo-
leon's divisions from different points were concentrated at
the same moment upon the army of the Archduke; they
hurried from every point to the one of concentration,
like clouds meeting from different points for a battle in
mid-heaven. . .
At two o'clock in the afternoon Napoleon commanded
and led the charge, and the struggle lasted till twilight,
ending with the utter defeat of the Archduke's army, and
leaving Napoleon with 20,000 prisoners, fifteen imperial
standards, and a vast number of cannon in his hands;

ECKMUHL–wAGRAM. 155
while the affrighted and decimated army fled back in
confusion and defeat on the city of Ratisbon. Two days
after, the Archduke attempted not only to hold that town
but to meet Napoleon, and was obliged to give up the
place at the storming of the walls by the French; and
the Austrian commander fled precipitately into Bohemia,
abandoning once more the capital of the Austrian
Empire to the mercy of the conqueror. Such was the
great Battle of Eckmuhl, which has been written by the
side of the other brilliant victories of Napoleon. .
Some of Napoleon's marshals had committed great
faults in the disposition of their troops. His army was far
inferior in numbers to the Austrians, and he had to con-
tend with many other and almost insuperable obstacles;
but again his genius rose superior to them all, and in five
days the campaign ended. Victory followed victory till
the 9th of May, when Napoleon approached Vienna;
and, finding resistance in entering it, he began to play
with his heavy batteries upon the city. All the royal
family had again fled, except the young Princess Maria
Louisa, who was detained by illness in the palace. When
Napoleon heard of it, he ordered that no battery should
be directed to that part of the town. The next day the
capitulation of the capital was signed. His army entered
Vienna, and he took up his old quarters at Schoenbrunn.
Soon after followed the battles of Asperne and Essling,
neither of which were decisive enough to accomplish his
object. . .
º, , . . . . . CXXXIII, ..
By skilful manoeuvring, he concentrated a powerful
army, on the 6th of July, near the little town of Wagram,
where a long and bloody contest followed. We need not
describe it All the artillery and baggage of the enemy
fell into his hands. The field was covered with the dead
and wounded, and 20,000 prisoners laid down their arms,


156 - NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
The Archduke fled into Moravia, and Napoleon returned
to his quarters at Schoenbrunn, Although our business
in this history is not to trace the fortunes or achievements
of Napoleon's generals, still we cannot go on without
leaving a passing tribute over the body-of Lannes, the
Duke of Montibello, who lost his life on the day of
Asperne. After almost superhuman efforts on the field,
and astonishing heroism on a hundred others, a cannon-
ball towards the close of the day took off both his legs.
The soldiers lifted him as he fell, and made him a rude
couch, the surgeon came up, and declared his wounds to
be mortal. In his frenzy he called for Napoleon. “My
noble Marshal,” said the Emperor, “it is all over.”
“What,” replied the dying man, “can’t you save me?”
He died in delirium some days after—his soul passing
away amidst the shock of contending armies. Again the
lion-hearted commander embraced the dead body of
-Lannes, as he had wept over the dead body of Dessaix on
the field of Marengo. Another armistice with Austria
followed, and the final treaty was signed at Schoenbrunn
on the 14th of October, 1809. Two days later the Em-
peror left Vienna, received the gratulations of the public
bodies of Paris (November 14), and the acclamations of
an Empire which now extended from the Pillars of Her-
cules to the borders of Russia, and from the British
Channel to the fires of Vesuvius. . . .
CXXXIV.
Another act of Napoleon we are called on to record,
which had no mean agency in finally overwhelming his
Empire. The Pope had reluctantly given his consent to
the Berlin and Milan decrees, but Napoleon required his
active hostility against England. Pius resolutely refused
to comply with this demand, and Napoleon issued the
following decree : “Whereas the temporal sovereign of

SEIZURE OF ROME. 157
Bome has refused to make war against England, and the
interests of the two kingdoms of Italy and Naples ought
not to be intercepted by a hostile power; and whereas the
donation of Charlemagne, our illustrious predecessor, of
the countries which formed the Holy See was for the good
of Christianity and not for the enemies of our holy re-
ligion, we therefore decree that the duchies of Urbino,
Ancona, Macerata, and Camarino be for ever united to
the kingdom of Italy.” A French general took military
possession of Rome in February, and on the 7th of May,
from Vienna, Napoleon decreed the temporal power of
the Pope ended, making Rome the second imperial city
of France. A large pension was settled upon Pius, and
a civil government was established in Rome. The Holy
Father now had recourse to his spiritual power, and he
fulminated a bull of excommunication against Napoleon.
The reply of the French Emperor was the seizure of the
Pope's person; and he was transported to Savona in the
Genoese territory, where, after spending some time in a
superb villa, and with sumptuous luxuries and attendance,
he was carried to Fontainbleau, where he remained Napo-
leon's prisoner during more than three years.
CXXXV.
Napoleon's power began to wane the moment he left
Spain. It received another shock when he made the head
of the Catholic world a prisoner; but his power might
have survived these two mistakes, had he not, in his impe-
rious pride, continued to perpetrate others. The next great
crime and blunder was the divorcement of Josephine.
We shall treat this subject so fully in the life of Josephine
herself that here we shall only glance at it. That Napo-
leon loved Josephine better than any other woman, and
§ that he loved her to the last, can hardly admit of a doubt,
We are equally persuaded that he loved France still better,


158 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
and that he loved his own glory and the dynasty of his
family better than all. He and Josephine had both
resigned all hope of her ever bearing him an heir to his
throne. The first son of Hortense and Louis, whom
Napoleon had designated as his successor, had already
died; and although he subsequently fixed his eye of favour
on the infant who now occupies his place in the Tuileries,
yet his heart and his ambition longed for a nearer and a
dearer tie with the being who was to inherit his colossal
empire. .
He decided, therefore, to divorce Josephine; and the
scenes which attended this fatal decision we shall else-
where record. . . .”
. x . .” CXXXVI,
The judgment which mankind were to pass upon this
act of divorce was decided by Napoleon's course after-
wards; for had he married a daughter of France, or even
an imperial princess of Russia, he could have done so
without the sacrifice of the prestige of the nobility, and
even the divinity of the people he had so gloriously con-
tended for ; but when it was announced that he had
contracted an alliance with the House of Hapsburg—
that hated, despotic race, against whom and against whose
principles he had fought a hundred battles, and, withal,
that he had brought into the Palace of the Tuileries the
niece of Marie Antoinette, whose head had rolled from the
block in the Revolution in sight of its windows—that day
Napoleon Surrendered the great principle and prestige of
his life. º
This point is worthy of greater elaboration than we
can in this place bestow upon it but with the same
spirit in which we have already recorded the brave and
great and good things of Napoleon, we shall here assign
the reasons why this act was so influential in the prostra.
tion of his power. ‘. … . . . . . . . . . . . . . ; º gº º & . .


THE NEW AGE. 1.59
. CXXXVII. : ‘‘. . . . .: .
A common impression prevails that the Battle of Water-
loo was the ruin of Napoleon; but it must be evident to
all but superficial thinkers that his ruin was worked by
other and more powerful causes. While the judgment and
sympathies of Europe were with him, he was invincible.
Emperors, kings, and princes exhausted their treasure,
and set millions of armed men in motion against him;
but they had little to do with his final downfall. He
appeared at a period when the foundations of feudalism
were giving way, and the world was preparing to enter on
a new system of things. Mankind had grown weary of
despotism, and the earnest purpose had gone forth among
the nations to heave from their shoulders the burdens
they had carried so long. The laws and institutions of
feudalism, which had enslaved the world from the dismem-
berment of the Roman Empire till the destruction of the
Bastile, had given way to the eternal law of nature—that
divine Magna Charta in which the political equality of
men is clearly written.

CXXXVIII.
The Revolution of 1789 was the first signal of the great
change through which Europe was to pass. Those causes
which had prepared the world and been hurrying it for-
ward to this greaf change had worked out their inevitable
results at an earlier period in France than in any other
nation; and when she led the way to the new age, she pre-
cipitated the progress of events, which, without any ex-
trinsic causes, must sooner or later have led to the same
i..., LT hout Eurone
Ǻ ..
tº *-* * *
CXXXIX.
When the young Corsican led his glittering hosts over
the Alps, Italy was ready for his coming. The time-worn

160 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
feudal structure of government and society dissolved at a
touch. It had served the purposes for which it was esta-
blished, and it could endure no longer. The General of
the French Republic was an Italian, and he was hailed by
his countrymen as the protector and vindicator and de-
liverer of Italy. From the first moment the sympathies.
of the Peninsula were with him, and all its ancient govern-
ments found themselves deserted by their people. The
former still cherished the feelings and acted on the policy
of the Feudal Age—the latter had felt the shock that woke
up the nations from their long sleep, and fixed their eye
on the future. Burning with revenge for the wrongs of
centuries, and fired with new hopes, they roused them-
selves to achieve their independence. Unable to guide
the awakened energy of millions or to resist its onset, the
sovereigns of Italy fled from their dominions, abandoning
them in their flight to the first bold invader. The old
system dissolved at once, and society began its rapid
transit towards the new order of things. The folly and the
obstimacy of kings had imposed on society the hard alter-
native of effecting by convulsion these changes, which, to
be well done, should be wrought by the insensible action
of time. &
CXL. 3
The era of change began, and went on with violence.
The era of regeneration was to follow after Europe had
found repose from the troubles of a quarter of a century.
Those terrible revolutions, which rocked the world fifty
years ago, frighten our children when they read them; and,
the recollection of Austerlitz, and Wagram, and Eckmuhl.
haunt the memory of the actors in those awful scenes.
Napoleon had revolutionised, but he had not regenerated
Europe. If he could have built up the future as easily as
he laid low the past—if he could have led the nations
into the land he had shown to them from afar as easily as


BEGINNING of NAPOLEON's DECLINE 161
he had led them out of their house of bondage—if he had
redeemed the pledge he had given to the confiding millions
of Europe as truly as they had interpreted it in the
beginning, he would have been not only the greatest chief-
tain, but the greatest benefactor of the modern world. He
would have united in himself all that we now admire
in Hannibal and Washington. But at the close of his
astounding career, mankind felt that they had been
deceived. The warm-hearted soldier, who saw nothing
beautiful over the field of Marengo but the glory of
France and his peerless Josephine, had grown selfish and
iron-hearted. Generous and noble feelings had been
burned out of his soul by the wasting fires of ambition.
Every energy of his nature had been concentrated in a
deathless effort at self-aggrandisement. Those mighty
passions that had heaved his stormy soul on a hundred
battle-fields drifted in a single direction; and when he
repudiated Josephine he repudiated Europe. His eye
was fixed on a still higher point of glory; but his steps
were leading him to ruin. He sued for the hand of a
princess of the House of Hapsburg, and by that act
deliberately gave the lie to all he had ever said and done.
He married the fresh, the genial, the immortal, the
glorious, the newly-born future, which all coming ages
will claim, to the corrupt, and effete, and putrid corpse of
the dark ages. He abandoned the principles he had pro-
fessed, and betrayed the hopes he had excited. He was
subdued himself by the very principle against which he
had always been contending; and he placed himself in
antagonism to the spirit of his age. • .
CXLI. r
From the hour he cast aside the gentle, the genial, the
kind, and the inimitable Josephine—the Empress of the

people—sprung from their ranks, and loving them still—
M

162 º NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
the ideal of all their virtues and sympathies, with none of
their vices—reflecting in that imperial salon the imper-
sonation of all that humanity ever was proud of or ever
adored on the earth—from that moment Napoleon lost
the confidence to a great extent of the friends of liberty
and progress, and the sympathies of the vindicators of
mankind; and little was left of that mighty fabric of
power except the heartless shadow. His Empire soon
dwindled to a standing army; and bayonets and cannon,
he ought to have learned ere now, are feeble props to
thrones that have nothing else to lean upon. It was then,
and then only, that the allied armies could contend suc-
cessfully against him. To all human appearances, his
Empire was far more powerful than ever; for he could
leave it strongly garrisoned at home, and pour half a
million of men upon the frozen plains of Russia: but
these were specious appearances. The soul of his Empire
had departed. The sovereigns of Europe were in league
against him from the beginning ; but he grew stronger
with the struggle—for the people were with him; and
while he had the public sentiment of the world on his
side, he was invincible. When, in the pride of his power,
he spurned from him the people who had made him, the
allied kings saw his mistake, and pretended to espouse
their cause. When he dropped the shout of liberty, they
took it up; when he ceased to flatter the people with
ideas of equality, the leagued tyrants bethought them-
selves of the same trick; and, in fact, they seemed now to
have become the vindicators of humanity, the champions
of popular rights, the defenders of constitutional liberty.
They spread abroad their republican banners—made
speeches à la démocrate—they renewed in every capital in
Europe the scenes and festivities of Republican France;
and in Italy and Germany high-born princes encouraged
the formation of Secret Societies for the propagation of

BERNADOTTE, KING OF SWEDEN. 163
liberal sentiments, and pretended to be proud of the
honour of membership. These associations spread over
Europe. Every art and intrigue was resorted to for
gaining to their side the sympathies and action of liberal
minds. We are now only anticipating events which
eternal justice and philosophy made inevitable conse-
quences of Napoleon's acts; but we shall reserve for a
few subsequent pages another duty to humanity, showing
how his Empire was broken to pieces, and how the cordon
of ruin was drawing around him. If we had undertaken
to write a eulogy on Napoleon, the pen would have fallen
from our paralysed hand with the attempt to justify the
conqueror to whom Heaven had confided such illimitable
power, in thus betraying the hopes of the world.
CXLII.
King Louis, finding that the restraints imposed by his
brother upon his reign in Holland contravened his con-
science, threw aside the crown, which had became a bur-
den, and retired to private life; and the kingdom was at
once annexed to the French Empire. Gustavus Adolphus,
King of Sweden, involved himself in a difficulty with Na-
poleon; and, as he was suspected of mental aberration, he
was made to sign his abdication in favour of his uncle of
Sudermania (who took the throne as Charles XIII.), a
former ally of Napoleon. The Prince of Augustenburg,
the recognised heir to the throne, suddenly died; and many
reasons rendered not only the election of Bernadotte by
the Diet, according to the Constitution, certain, but, being
a Protestant by education, and a moderate and just man,
his election secured tranquillity and prosperity to Sweden.
Napoleon gave his consent; although, from the 18th Bru-
maire, he had not regarded Bernadotte with so much
favour as some of his other marshals. The new king re-
ceived a joyful welcome at Stockholm. He continued to


164 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
$
preserve as Crown Prince the favour of Sweden; and when
he finally ascended the throne, he made a wise and good
king, perhaps, for Sweden, but the man whom Napoleon
had dragged from “the dregs of the people” betrayed his
benefactor as soon as he had the opportunity. Meantime,
the marriage of Napoleon to Maria Louisa had been cele-
brated by proxy at Vienna with great splendour; and she
had arrived at Paris, where her nuptials were confirmed
by ceremonies still more magnificent. The submissive but
Sad Josephine had retired to her palace of Malmaison,
with the title of Empress, and an annual pension of two
million francs from the Senate, and another million from
the civil list of Napoleon, . . %
CXLIII.
On the night of the 20th of March, 1811, the chiefsur-
geon of the imperial court entered Napoleon's private
apartment to tell him that Maria Louisa had been safely
delivered of a son. The Emperor, who had been many
hours awaiting the event with more anxiety than he had
ever been known to display, passed into the ante-chamber,
which was crowded with the members of the court and all
the great officers of state, and said, “It is the King of
Rome !" The Commandant of Paris heard the announce-
ment, and hurried from the excited assembly. Rockets rose
from the Tuileries, and, a moment after, a heavy cannon
woke the city. The birth of a princess was to be made
known by a salute of twenty-one guns, and one hundred
and one were to be fired for a prince. At the first report
tens of thousands of the inhabitants of Paris rushed into
the streets and public squares, and waited with anxious
suspense to learn the result. At length, when the twenty-
second gun proclaimed the heir to the Empire, a wild and
prolonged acclamation of gladness rent the sky; and as
peal on peal broke from the fortresses, all Paris sent


BIRTH of THE KING OF ROME. 165
back its deafening shout. Never had child of earth been
born to so magnificent a heritage, or been greeted by a
more inspiring hope or blood-felt enthusiasm. Nearly all
the Powers of Europe sent Ambassadors Extraordinary
to congratulate the Emperor, and Heaven itself seemed to
preside over the fortunes of this new dynasty.
CXLIV.
With these new and auspicious signs of lasting pros-
perity, and in the final fruition of his hopes, it is not
strange that Napoleon went mad with his fortune, and
believed himself “the favoured of the gods.” Kings and
Emperors, without a tithe of his fame, genius, or power,
have often disgusted mankind and offended Heaven by
acts of greater presumption and folly than were ever laid
to his charge. .. .
From the moment of the birth of “the King of Rome,”
it was the dream of his father to seat his son on the
throne of the Caesars, and restore that city to its ancient
magnificence. His veteran grenadiers, the few that still
outlived his hundred battle-fields, who had won the vic-
tories of his first Italian campaign, often gathered in
groups under the imperial palace, and looked up to its
fretted windows, if perchance, they might catch a passing
glimpse of that wondrous child whose coronation in the
Campidoglio they might yet live to behold. But these
brave grenadiers were to leave their bones among the
snows of Russia, and the King of Rome was never to see
the city of the Caesars. -

CXLV.
But the Empire of Napoleon had not yet sustained the
trying shock. Indications were everywhere visible that
neither the sovereigns nor the nations of Europe would
brook the Supremacy of a single master, England had

166 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
nearly succeeded in driving the French troops out of
Spain; and her agents had either persuaded, intimidated,
harassed, or bribed every monarchy of the Continent
into the Great Coalition. The moment had not yet come
when they could with impunity reveal their animosity;
but probably there was not a king in Europe at this time
who did not fear and hate him—not one who was not
watching an opportunity to break all the obligations of
treaties and join in a universal attempt at his over-
throw. Even the kings he had created, and the vassals
of his Empire, had forgotten their gratitude and alle-
giance. His brother Louis had thrown up his crown
in disgust; Joseph was flying from his usurped palace
in Spain; Murat was already cherishing the idea of
an independent dynasty for his race in Naples ; the
humbled monarch of Prussia was patiently waiting
for the hour to avenge the rifled tomb of his ances-
tor; and although an Austrian archduchess was on
the throne of France, her father was ready to lend
his hand to the overthrow of her husband; while the
Emperor of Russia had already completed his prepara-
tions for a fresh and more vigorous war against Napoleon
—the violation of the Treaty of Tilsit being the first and
smallest obstacle which lay in the path of his perfidious
ambition. His spy, Count Czernicheff, who had been
lurking for several weeks around Paris, had got the in-
formation he wanted, and succeeded in escaping from the
city just as the orders had been issued to the police to
arrest him. . º 3.3%
CXLVI,



Russia declared war against France in April, 1812. It
was a shameless infraction of the Treaty of Tilsit ; but it
showed Napoleon that Europe was determined to crush
him, and he rallied the forces of his Empire for a more
terrible conflict than he had yet been summoned to.


INVASION OF RUSSIA. 167
Again the orders of preparation for battle were sent
through France; and in a few weeks nearly half a million
men passed the Rhine for the invasion of Russia. Such
an army modern Europe had never seen, nor will such an
army ever be likely again to gather under the orders of a
single commander. ; , ; ;..." & .
3”. - CXLVII.
When the Emperor left Paris (May 9th, 1812), every
augury which belongs to power, splendour, or loyalty
was thrown over his departure. The Empress and all the
court, with an endless cortège, followed him, and the
road was marked as far as Dresden with every sign of a
triumphal progress. At that city, the Emperor of
Austria and an ante-chamber of allied or vassal kings
greeted his coming. Hazlitt well says—“The adulation
was excessive and universal. He was the only object of
attention; and everyone else gave way before him.
Seated in the palace of one of the capitals of Germany,
surrounded by the descendants of her ancient kings,
showing his imperial spouse, the daughter of the Caesars,
at his side, he seemed more like a monarch receiving his
vassals than a soldier of fortune who had obtruded him.
self into the presence of kings. The population of whole
cities had deserted their dwellings and spent days and
nights in gazing on the gates and windows of his palace,
or waiting in expectation of seeing him pass. Yet it was
not his crown, his rank, or the luxury and splendour in
which he lived, that excited this intense curiosity and in-
terest—it was the man himself. They wanted to stamp
on their minds his figure and lineaments; they wanted
to have it to say that they had seem Napoleon.”
CXLVIII.
We here enter upon such a tragedy of heroism, suffer-
ing, and ruin as had never been recorded in human

168 - NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
e * ::: , $
4- } +o it, 4. even l it. --
annals; and we are ºr J ---.
fascination of horror. But we have already been betrayed
beyond the limits we proposed for the life of Napoleon;
and we must dismiss this awful and tragic part of his
history with a few words. tº
Talleyrand used his subtlest and most cogent argu-
ments; Fouché, who, although a demoniac villain, was a
man of great practical judgment and rare common-sense,
interposed; Cardinal Fesch, who had been deeply affected
by the insulting and impious imprisonment of the aged
Pontiff, privately implored his nephew to abandon the
“Heaven-provoking crusade;” and statesmen, friends, and
even marshals and generals, endeavoured to dissuade Na-
poleon from the Russian campaign; but they all failed.
He believed he was mounting the summits of glory—his
best friends knew he was descending to ruin. But he was
dragged on by the destiny which presided over his strange
life. There was no repose for him till he found it in his
island-prison. -
. CXLIX. .
Napoleon reviewed on the battle-field of Friedland the
greater part of that vast army which, when it had once
Crossed the Niemen, was never to return. As he advanced
into Russia, he found the entire country laid waste;
towns were burned, granaries destroyed, and fields made
barren as he approached. Alexander knew he could not
Cope with Napoleon in pitched battles; and he fell back
on his grand reserve—a polar winter : leaving the de-
struction of the foe to his surest and most merciless ally,
the frost.
. CL. .
The invasion of Russia gave Alexander a million of
soldiers. Cradled in snow, and inured to the cold, they
Waited for the enemy to march far enough ; and they



§
THE MARCH To Moscow. 169
knew the result. The swarming population of the North
arose en masse against the invader. A Grand Duchess of
Russia (whom Napoleon had desired to marry) raised a
regiment on her own estate. Moscow proposed to Alex-
ander to raise and equip 80,000 men. The veteran chief
of the Cossacks, Platoff, offered his only daughter, and
a dower of 200,000 rubles, to the man who should kill
Napoleon
Thus the whole country was desolated and depopulated
as the invader went on ; and the flying peasantry and
nobles swelled the ranks of the army of the Czar. The
French army came in sight of Smolensko, and three times
the commander charged before he got possession of the
town. But, in the night, the Russian garrison crossed
the river, and set fire to the city. Dome, turret, palace,
and hovel, were wrapped in a sheet of flame,
CLI.
On, on, the irritated legions of France drove the flying
Tºussians, who fled from one burning city to another,
till at last the hostile armies met (7th September, 1812).
Each foe commanded over 100,000 men and 500 cannon.
To the French Napoleon said—“Soldiers, here is the
battle you have longed for. It is necessary; for it brings
us plenty, good winter-quarters, and a safe return to our
country. Behave yourselves so that posterity may say
of each of you, ‘He was in that great conflict beneath
the walls of Moscow.’” . . º:
This battle was not a bloody struggle and a fierce
charge; it was a succession of charges, and an Iliad of
slaughters. Each army withdrew at night, and 100,000
dead men were left on the field. It was a mutual butchery.
Marshal Ney was made Prince of Moskwa, as a reward for
his gallantry. But Death was the only victor.

170 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
. CLII. . .# 3. . ; ºft
Once more this never-resting Captain collected his
meagre regiments, and led them to Moscow. On the 14th
of September they rose over the “Hill of Salvation *-
so called because from its summit the pilgrim can see the
towers of Moscow, which, to the Russian I t, is as
sacred as ever was the Holy City to the Christian Crusader,
When the half-disheartened but still valiant army—few of
whom had ever before witnessed the sight—looked off on
the domes of the Saracens and the spires of the Goths,
rising over a metropolis of palaces, and overshadowed by
the majestic towers of the Kremlin, the whole looming up
from the plain like a vision of grandeur and beauty, the
entire army halted, and the Solemn but cheerful excla-
mation broke forth, “Moscow ! Moscow !” Napoleon's
horse, that had carried his rider so far, suddenly stopped,
and the rider gazed a few moments in silence. He held
his glass steadily to his eye, and said, “I see no smoke
from a single chimney in Moscow.” These words would
have told a Russian the doom of that silent, wondering
host . z





CLIII.
The French divisions moved on, but no sign of liferose
up from the city—no gates swung open to receive the
conqueror—not a battery bristled from the walls. All
was silent. .." tº z. . . . . . . . . .
The army advanced—they entered Moscow ; but it
was as silent as a city of the dead. The weary divisions
dispersed through the town—they entered the gorgeous
churches, and the lamps of worship were still burning
before the altars, and around them still lingered the odour
of incense: but no worshippers were there. º,
They entered the palaces of nobles—endless suites of
apartments, adorned with Oriental magnificence, galleries

CONFLAGRATION OF MOSCOW. 171
of art, and cabinets flashing with gems; but no nobles
were there.
They crowded the markets—stalls and alcoves were
reeking with luxuries; but no buyers or sellers were
there. -
They threaded the streets and went through the houses;
‘. . .
penetrated the venerable precincts of the
Palace of the Czars, the magnificent Kremlin—no Czar
or Emperor, or even attendant, was there ! Moscow—the
great, the Holy City—was inhabited only by French
soldiers | ------------- - - -
The mal
CLIV.
The Grand Army bivouacked in Moscow; but it seemed
to Napoleon's Egyptian veterans like a bivouac in the
tomb of the Pharaohs . The mighty host had at last laid
themselves to rest for the first night, and silence and
gloom had spread over Moscow, when from every quarter
rose the terrific cry of “Fire I’ -
The French Emperor sprang from his couch in the
Kremlin, and, by the light of the conflagration raging
everywhere around him, wrote a letter to Alexander, pro-
posing a peace. A. Russian prisoner of high rank was
despatched with the note, but no answer was ever re-
turned. ... . . . . . . . .3: .
. CLV. * : * , º, .
For four days the conflagration wasted the city. A
Russian historian says, “Palaces and temples, monuments
of art and miracles of luxury, the remains of ages long
since past and the creations of yesterday, the tombs of
ancestors and the cradles of children, were indiscrimi-
mately destroyed. Nothing was left of Moscow save the
memory of the people, and their deep resolution to avenge
her fall.” At last the Kremlin took fire (19th Sep.), in



172 ######
the equinoctial gale, and its towers began to tremble.
Then only Napoleon left it , but the flames were extin-
guished and he returned to it again. A part of the city
was still standing; there was yet an abundance of pro-
visions. It could not be believed that some response
would not return to Napoleon's message of peace; and
the French abandoned themselves to the gaieties of society.
A Théâtre Frangais was opened among the embers of
Moscow, and giddy, brave, and brilliant battalions
crowded to listen to the magic words and stirring scenes
of the great Talma. . }º
CLVI.
Napoleon could have saved himself by returning at once
to France, after the burning of Moscow ; but in the vain
hope of peace he waited, he lingered—and he was lost.
No message or messenger returned from Alexander:
and at last a snow-storm fell. It was the first blast of a
polar winter, and it sent a chill through the army.
“The Man of Destiny” was overmatched. The elements
had turned against him—he could not master fire and
frost; and on the 19th October, 1812, he began his re-
treat from Russia. . - .
CLVII. -->
Slowly, sadly, despairingly, the hitherto invincible
legions of Napoleon defiled from the smouldering ashes of
Moscow, and once more turned their faces toward Paris.
They now numbered upwards of 300,000. How few of
them were ever to recount their sufferings around their
home firesides | . . . . . . . .
Murat, with his cavalry, led the march; and this chivalri
commander came up to the once magnificent villa of Ros-
tophehin; it was a heap of ashes. On one of the columns
of its massive gateway he read these words: “I have
spent eight years in embellishing this home of my family;



RETREAT of THE FRENCH ARMY. 173
and in it I have found a paradise with those I love. The
people on my estate, 1,720 in number, abandon it on your
approach. I have set fire to my house that it may not
be polluted by your presence.”
CLVIII.
The retreat from Russia had begun ; but we shall not
try to describe it—we have not space, nor could we if we
had. lt is summed up in a few words. It was a dark
and bloody chain of corpses for a thousand miles. Thou-
sands lay down at night upon the snow, and never awoke ;
mounted grenadiers, in pangs of hunger, slew their noble
horses, sucked their blood, stripped off their skins, and,
wrapping these reeking mantles round them, laid down
to their last sleep ; those who could bend their stiffened
limbs to another day's march had to fight their way
through the merciless slaughter of the Cossacks; the howl
of the polar wolf mingled night by night with the dreams
of the starving and freezing soldiers; and as fast as the
wounded or the wearied fell they were devoured alive
When the Beresina broke up the following spring, 36,000.
French corpses were found in its bed | The few who sur-
vived all these horrors were wasted with famine; and men
who had fought in all Napoleon's campaigns, and wore the
cross of the Legion of Honour on their breast, wept when
they saw a loaf of bread Î
CLVIX.
At last a few stragglers, emaciated, worn, and wounded,
again stepped upon their native soil. Of the Grand
Army, which, in all the confidence of victory, and all the
pride of chivalry and power, crossed the Niemen, but a
few months before, 125,000 had been slain, 130,000 had
died by famine or cold, 200,000 had become the prisoners
of unrelenting foes; and among this vast multitude


174. NA POLEON BONAPARTE,
there were 50 generals and 3000 regimental officers.
Seventy-five imperial eagles and a thousand cannon had
been left behind the Niemen. Of the half a million
which once composed the proud army of Russia, not
20,000 ever again pressed the vine-clad hills of beautiful
France. ; : ...
We shall have few more victories of Napoleon to
record—his star was going down for ever ! ... º.º. º.º.º.º. ' '.....
Its departing light still poured rays of splendour over
Europe; and even when these rays had ceased to burn,
it shot with meteor glare once more above the horizon
from Elba, and illuminated the whole heavens. But it
sunk at last over the field of Waterloo, and never rose
again. . 3.3%
CLX,
We shall devote but a few paragraphs to the struggle
of Napoleon for his Empire, his fall, abdication, life at
Elba, return to France, Battle of Waterloo, and exile at
St. Helena—although each of these points is worthy of
extended narration, and will in all time to come invite
the investigations of the scholar, and captivate the
imagination of mankind. .
Late on the night of the 18th December, 1812, Napo-
leon's carriage rolled up to the Tuileries, bringing the
fallen but not disheartened Emperor. The next morning
all Paris resounded with the news, which flew throughout
France almost with the rapidity of lightning. The ter-
rible fate of the Grand Army had spread a cloud of
gloom and disaffection over the French nation ; and the
daring conspiracy, headed by Mallet, to dethrone the
Emperor, had nearly succeeded. But the announcement
of the return of the hero of Austerlitz dispelled gloom
and conspiracy, and again diffused joy and exultation
through that gayest and bravest of nations, -



PRUSSIA DECLARES WAR. * , 175
§::::::. . .'; CLXI. -
The reverses of the French arms, and the annihilation
of the grandest and most powerful host the earth had
ever seen, were at once forgotten. The footsteps of the
throne were crowded by kneeling senates, magistrates
and courtiers; and addresses and congratulations poured
in from every side. Lockhart says, “The voice of ap-
plause, congratulation, and confidence re-echoed from
every quarter, drowned the whispers of suspicion, resent-
ment, and natural sorrow. Every department of the public
service appeared to be animated with a spirit of tenfold
activity. New conscriptions were called for and yielded.
Regiments arrived from Spain and Italy. Every arsenal
resounded with the preparation of new artillery; thou-
sands of horses were impressed un every province, Ere
many weeks had elapsed, Napoleon found himself once
more in condition to take the field with not less than
350,000 soldiers. Such was the effect of this new appeal
to the national feelings of this great and gallant people,”
... ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; ; £LXII. . .
Six years had passed away since the terrible day of
Jena; and Prussia, having recovered from its disasters and
emboldened by Napoleon's recent losses, again prepared
for battle. The 31st of January, Frederick William de-
clared war against France, took the field, and appealed to
the whole nation to gather around his standard. The
call was responded to by a universal shout, and all ages
and classes devoted their fortunes and lives to the sacred
cause of national independence. The Emperor of Russia
set his vast army in motion, and his Cossack hordes
descended exultingly from the north in the dead of winter,
gaily buffeting the same Snows where Napoleon's army
lay buried. When Alexander embraced the King of



176 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE
Prussia at Breslau (15th March, 1813), Frederick Wil-
liam burst into tears. “Wipe them,” said the Czar cheer-
fully ; “they are the last Napoleon will ever cause you to
shed.” The two armies—the Russians headed by Wit-
genstein, the Prussians by the veteran Blucher—and each
fighting under the eyes of their sovereigns, were waiting
impatiently for a sight of the French eagles. %
CLXIII.

Napoleon, who had already concentrated nearly 200,000
men on the banks of the Saal, set out from Paris, and on
the 18th of April was at the head of his army. He met
the Allies at Lutzen ; and after a day of carnage they
fell back on Leipsic, then at Dresden, and at last crossed
the Elbe. In the mean time, the Austrian Emperor—
who had stood neutral, but could not long remain so,
with a powerful army—urged his son-in-law to accept
his mediation for a general peace, offering his friendship
and alliance if Napoleon would consent to limit his
empire to the Rhine, and restore their independence to
the German nations. The historian and the statesman
will always wonder what infatuation could have driven
Napoleon to reject the mediation of a power which could
turn the scales so infallibly against him in the final
struggle then approaching. He, doubtless, looked forward
to another day of Austerlitz or Jena, and could not yet
believe that he was not invincible. He pressed hard on
the rear of the retreating Allies, crossed the Elbe at
Dresden, and came in sight of the enemy at Bautzen, on
the morning of the 21st of May. At the end of a long
and bloody day, the allied armies abandoned the field, and
began their retreat ; and couriers were despatched to
Paris from Napoleon's camp with the news of the great
Victory of Bautzen. . . . . . . . . . º

DEATH of DUROC.
CLXIV.
That night Napoleon, after dictating the bulletin of the
battle, wrote the following decree, “which,” says Alison,
“all lovers of the arts, as well as admirers of patriotic
virtue, must regret was prevented by his fall from being
carried into execution:” “A monument shall be erected
on Mount Cenis; on the most conspicuous face the fol-
lowing inscription shall be written : ‘The Emperor
Napoleon, from the field of Wurschen, has ordered the
erection of this monument, in testimony of his gratitude
to the people of France and of Italy. This monument
will transmit from age to age the remembrance of that
great epoch when, in the space of three months, twelve
hundred thousand men flew to arms to protect the in-
tegrity of the French Empire.” The following day the
French army came up with the retiring Allies, and another
combat followed, in which Duroc fell. The dying man
was carried into a cottage, and Napoleon dismounted and
slowly passed the door. He saw there was no hope, and,
pressing the hand of the expiring hero, he said, “There
is another world, Duroc, where we shall meet again.” He
bowed over the body, and wet it with his tears. It was
the anniversary of the death of Lannes. On the spot
where Duroc fell, his sovereign wrote these words for his
monument : “Here the General Duroc, Duke of Friuli,
Grand Marshal of the Palace of the Emperor Napoleon,
gloriously fell, struck by a cannon-ball, and died in the
arms of the Emperor, his friend.” He handed the paper
to Berthier in silence, and sat in his tent alone for several
hours, wrapped in his grey great-coat, with his head resting
on his hands, and his elbows on his knees, a prey to
the most agonising reflections. “The squares of the Old
Guard,” says Alison, “respecting his feelings, arranged
themselves at a distance. A mournful silence reigned
N




178 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
around; the groups of officers at a little distance hardly
articulated above their breath. Slowly the moon rose
over this melancholy scene ; the heavens became illumi-
nated by the flames of the adjoining villages, which had
fallen a prey to the license of the soldiers; while the
noble bands of the Imperial Guard played alternately
triumphal and elegiac strains, in the vain hope of distract-
ing the grief of their chief.”
CLXV.
Again Austria proffered her mediation, which was
readily accepted by Alexander and Frederick William,
and Napoleon agreed to an armistice, which was signed
June 1st, when he returned to Dresden, to await a general
congress of diplomatists about to assemble at Prague.
England alone refused to join in this universal attempt
for peace; nor was there a sovereign in Europe who sin-
cerely desired it except Napoleon. But without waiting
for the slow movement of the General Congress, the
Austrian Emperor sent Metternich to confer with
Napoleon in person at Dresden. Their interview was to
decide the part Austria was to take in the final contest.
These two extraordinary men—the warrior and the
diplomatist—met and conversed for several hours. But
Napoleon only made Metternich angry by saying, “Come,
Metternich, tell me honestly how much the English have
given you to make war upon me!” . r -
They parted, and the formal ultimatum of the Austrian
court was sent to the French Emperor. It demanded the
surrender of his conquests; but Talleyrand and Fouché,
who had just arrived from Paris, pressed him to accede to
the demands of Austria. Their arguments were enforced
by fresh news from Spain, indicating the speedy fall of
his power in the Peninsula. “Ten lost battles,” said
Napoleon, “would not sink me lower than you would

THE GREAT COALITION, 179
have me sink myself by a single stroke of the pen. I
will first overwhelm my enemies, and then ratify an
honourable peace.” Austria, however, still pretended to
be anxious for peace, and Metternich succeeded in con-
vincing Napoleon of her sincerity, thereby gaining time
to strike a decisive blow. ..
... ... CLXVI, ... . . . . . . .
Finally, Metternich suddenly broke off all negotiations,
and, on the 12th August, Austria declared war against
France. It was an act of bold and shameless perfidy; but
Metternich was richly rewarded for his treachery by the
crowned heads of Europe, Alison has, in graphic lan-
guage, depicted the scenes which followed, “Unbounded
was the joy diffused through the Russian and Prussian
troops by the accession of Austria to the alliance. To
outstrip the slow arrival by couriers of the long-wished-
for intelligence, bonfires were prepared on the summits of
the Bohemian mountains; and at midnight on the 10th
August, their resplendent light told the breathless host
in Silesia that two hundred thousand gallant allies were
about to join their standard. The Emperor of Russia
and King of Prussia, with their respective troops, were
assembled in anxious expectation at Trachenberg, in a
large barn, awaiting the agreed-on signal, when, a little
after midnight on the 10th, loud shouts on the outside
announced that the flames were seen; and soon the sove-
reigns themselves, hastening to the door, beheld the
blazing lights, prophetic of the fall of Napoleon, on the
summits of the mountains. Such was the joy which
pervaded the deeply-agitated assembly that they all
embraced, many with tears of rapture.” . º
CLXVII.
Thus was consolidated at last the Great Coalition. The
sovereigns of the nations of Europe had leagued together

180 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
and sworn to crush the Emperor of France. All the
influence and genius of his Empire had been exhausted in
the futile attempt to dissuade Napoleoli from battling
against combined Europe; his ministers, marshals, gene-
rals, friends, and allies tried in vain. Everybody foresaw
his inevitable doom, except himself. Everybody else trem-
bled; but he strode as confidently along his path of glory
in the last hour as in the hour of his brightest victories,
although every step was upon a sinking empire. : ; ; ; ; , .
Napoleon had now been several weeks with his army at
Dresden; and that opulent and populous city had fondly
hoped that, on the birthday of the French Emperor, a
peace with Europe would be signed. They had prepared
a magnificent festival in his honour, and to celebrate the
restoration of peace ; but these hopes were suddenly
chilled by an order for the fête to take place on the 10th,
in conjunction with a grand review of the army. On the
great plain of Ostra-Gehege, near Dresden, the imperial
troops were drawn up; and, in the presence of the King of
Saxony, the Emperor's brothers, marshals, and the chief
dignitaries of the Empire, Napoleon held his last review.
Twenty thousand of the Old Guard, five thousand of whom
were mounted on fine horses richly caparisoned, with the
whole of that vast army, defiled before their Imperial
Commander. A banquet fit for a congress of kings was
spread for his gallant veterans, and at night the city was
gay with festivities, fireworks, and illuminations. It was
the last time that superb host would ever be reviewed by
their Chief—it was the last banquet where they were ever
to assemble—it was the last foreign capital of his Empire
ever to be illuminated in his honour. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CLXVIII,
The allied army had already been strengthened by
the accession of Belnadotte with the army of Sweden,
NApolfoN's LAST GREAT victory. 181
and the presence of Moreau—the hero of Hohenlinden—
who had returned from his long exile in America, and,
at the invitation of Alexander, joined his army to fight
against Napoleon. It is supposed that these two great
French generals, who had turned their arms against their
native country, had the entire disposition of the allied
armies at the Battle of Dresden, now approaching.
On the evening of the 26th August the armies met in
a short but fierce engagement, and separated for a final
conflict on the coming day. .
The following morning, in the midst of a tempest of
wind and rain, Napoleon renewed the battle with 200,000
men under his standard. It was a sanguinary and hard-
fought field; but when night came, it left the French
masters, with 20,000 prisoners, twenty-six cannon, eighteen
standards, and 130 caissons. Another circumstance re-
doubled the effect of the victory. In the early part of the
engagement, Napoleon, who had been intently eyeing a
group of officers on an elevation, beyond the reach of com-
mon cannon-shot, recognised “the traitor Moreau.” He at
once ordered a battery of heavy guns—charged with all
their powder—pointed in that direction. He superintended
the operation, and decided himself the angle of elevation,
the aim, and the moment of fire. Ten pieces went off at
once, carrying a storm of cannon-shot over the heads of
the contending armies. That evening a peasant entered
Napoleon's camp, with a bloody boot, and a greyhound
whose collar wore the words, “I belong to General
Moreau.” Napoleon had accomplished his object—Mo-
reau was dead. Both his legs had been taken off by that
discharge of grape-shot. He died soon after in the pre-
sence of Alexander. Thus ended the Battle of Dresden—
the last pitched battle Napoleon ever gained ; for a
moment it shot a gleam of Splendour around his dissolving
Empire.

182 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
CLXIX,
But the victory had not been decisive enough to humble
his enemies, nor was he confident enough to pursue his foe.
He fell back on Dresden, prostrated with fatigue and ill-
ness, and from this hour every messenger who came into
his presence brought only disheartening news. When he
heard of the disastrous defeat of Vandamme at Culm, he
said to Murat, from the sick-bed where he lay, “Such is
the fortune of war—high in the morning, lowere night.
Between triumph and ruin there intervenes but a step.”
Other reverses soon followed. Macdonald was utterly
routed by Blucher at Wahlstadt (26th August), with the
loss of 15,000 men and one hundred cannon. Oudinot
was defeated by Bernadotte at Grossbeeren (23rd August),
and Luckau fell into his hands, with the garrison, five days
after. Marshal Ney, who met Bernadotte the 7th Sep-
tember at Dennewitz, lost 10,000 prisoners and forty-six
guns; these were some of Napoleon's reverse
CLXX.
But Napoleon at last rose from his bed, refreshed by
repose, and struggled like Laocoon in the folds of the
serpent. He felt the reins of power slipping from his
hands; but by almost superhuman efforts he held them
for awhile longer. At last, however, he was forced to
give up the line of the Elbe, to which, one of his historians
well says, he still clung as he had done to the Kremlin,
and began his retreat towards Leipsic, where he made a
stand with all his forces. jº.
He had, however, hardly gathered his divisions in that
ancient city before Schwartzenberg's columns appeared on
the south. Alexander and Frederick William were in his
camp; and they had just been joined by the Emperor of






THE BATTLE of LEPsic. . 183.
Austria, who had come to witness the overthrow of the
Empire, in whose honours his own daughter participated.
At twelve o'clock that same night three rockets of pure
white light sprang up from the camp of the Emperors,
and the signal was at once answered by four rockets that
went blazing red and far into the heavens on the north,
which told Napoleon that he would have to contend the
next day with a quarter of a million of men. His own
army had dwindled to 130,000.
CLXXI.
Neither party seemed averse to battle, and the engage-
ment began at day-break on the 16th, and ended only
with nightfall, when three cannon-shots, fired from each
wing, marked the suspension of the slaughter, each army
sleeping on the ground that had been their bivouac the
previous night. Such was the state of the contest on the
south side of the city, where Napoleon commanded in
person; but on the north side Blucher had repulsed the
column of Marmont, and driven them under the walls of
the town. . . .
Illusions were now vanishing from the eye of Napoleon;
and, with the first unimpassioned glance at his situation,
he sent to the allied sovereigns a prisoner of rank (who
had come to him after the victory of Austerlitz from the
Emperor Francis) to obtain conditions of peace. But the
hour for negotiation was past—the allied kings could
redeem their oath only by driving their foe beyond the
Rhine. The messenger did not return. .
CLXXII.
The French Emperor now prepared for his retreat
towards France, with foes almost as merciless as those
he had to contend with when he turned his back on
Moscow. .
184 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
But the Allies were determined to contest every league
of the flight. They waited the 17th for the arrival of
Bernadotte, and on the morning of the 18th renewed the
conflict. It lasted on the south under Napoleon, and
the north under Ney, another long day, in which the
inferiority of the French was atoned for by amazing
heroism, and such a display of generalship as had probably
never been witnessed in all the campaigns of Napoleon.
Once more night separated the contending hosts, and
again the armies, at the signal of three guns, laid down
to sleep. Not even the shameful defection of a corps of
10,000 Saxons, who went over to the Allies during the
heat of battle, could give victory to the enemy.
Just after midnight, Napoleon roused his bleeding army
and began his retreat, leaving, in killed, wounded, or
prisoners, 50,000 men around or within the walls of
Leipsic. . -
CLXXIII.
The retreat of this shattered host almost equalled in
sadness and gloom the retreat from Russia; but Napo-
leon showed himself still greater than ever in the midst of
such overwhelming misfortunes. Not a day now but he
heard eviltidings; but his calmness, equanimity, firmness,
and even cheerfulness, nothing could disturb—his spirit
nothing could break. At last, the remains of his great
and gallant host once more crossed the Rhine, and Napoleon
travelled on by post-horses to Paris, where he arrived on
the 9th of November—an Emperor without kingdoms—
a chieftain without an army.
. CLXXIV.
But there still lingered around Napoleon's name a
charm which conjured up one more army from the soil of
France; and as the news spread that the Allies had crossed
j

PARTING witH NATIONAL guard. 185
the French frontier, and were marching on Paris, men of
all classes armed, and flocked around the falling Emperor.
The tide of invasion was rolling in from all sides; and
already 200,000 foreign troops, embracing men from fifty
nations, were on French ground, for the purpose of com-
pelling the French nation to receive back once more the
hated Bourbon race, for whose restoration the despots of
Europe had so long contended. On the morning of the
23rd of January, an order of Napoleon had assembled the
officers of the National Guardin the Salon of the Marshals
in the Palace of the Tuileries. They numbered 900, and
they were ignorant of the reason why they had been sum-
moned. At length the Emperor, followed by Maria
Louisa and the Countess Montesquiou, carrying in her
arms the King of Rome, entered the wondering and
excited assembly. . . .
“Messieurs,” said Napoleon, “France is invaded. I go
to put myself at the head of the army, and, with God's
help and their valour, I hope soon to drive the enemy
beyond the frontier;” and taking the Empress by one
hand, and his son in the other, he continued, with visible
emotion, “But if the foe should approach the capital, I
confide to the National Guard the Empress and the King
of Rome—my wife and child.” There were few among
that army of brave and resolute men who could restrain
their tears. º
CLXXV.
The following day Napoleon reviewed his troops in the
court-yard of his palace, while the snow was falling, and
the following morning left Paris, having appointed Maria
Touisa Regent of the Empire, and his brother Joseph Chief
of the Council of State, .
We need not trace the course of events any further,
For two months the hunted hero of a hundred battles


186 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
withstood, inch by inch, the irresistible onset of the allied
invaders. Wherever he met the enemy, he encountered
them with the heroism of better days, and his troops
fought with the energy of despair. . . .
Napoleon never displayed so much true greatness as
during this last campaign. His transitions from point to
point, the rapidity of his evolutions and marches, his un-
flagging resolution, his matchless skill, unwasting energy,
and, above all, the invincibleness of his unbroken and un-
bending will, made him greater and more terrible than
ever. Like a solitary column of an ancient temple, that
only rears itself with sublimer grandeur when all its props
and accompaniments have fallen—so stood Napoleon when
his Empire had fallen to ruins around him—so unrelent-
ingly had the hero kept his ground. French writers tell
us that the vineyards and gardens of Champaigne had
become so complete a desolation, wolves roamed over the
country and howled around the camp.
A huge volume only could embrace the achievements
and sufferings of Napoleon and his comrades during these
last scenes of the dissolving Empire.
CLXXVI.
Finally, after the Empress and her son had fled from
Paris, and the allied armies had taken possession of the
city, restoring by the force of armed intervention a race
which could never again rule in tranquillity over France,
Napoleon, with a few of his worn and faithful followers,
entered the court-yard of his country palace—Fontain-
bleau. On the 11th of April, when he was entirely in the
power of his old enemies, and most of his ministers, mar-
shals, and favourites had abandoned him, he signed, at
their dictation, an abdication of the thrones of France
and Italy for himself and his heirs, He, and the world of
ADIEU To THE OLD GUARD. 187
honest men, regarded the instrument just as Sacred as a
testament extorted by force from a dying man.
CLXXVII.
One more scene was to be passed through before he left
the halls of that superb château, where he had for so many
years forgotten the burden of his Empire in the blandish-
ments of home. The relics of his Old Guard—the
stranded masts and spars of that imperial vessel which had
outrode so many tempests—were drawn up in the court-
yard of the château, Napoleon rode up to them on horse-
back, and, dismounting, said—“Comrades! all Europe has
armed against me. France herself has deserted me and
chosen another dynasty. I might, with you, have main-
tained a civil war for years; but it would have rendered
France unhappy. Be faithful to the new sovereign your
country has chosen. Donotlament my fate: Ishallalways
be happy while I know that you are so. I could have died
—nothing was easier; but I will always follow the path of
honour. I will record with my pen the deeds we have
done together. I cannot embrace you all (as he took their
commander in his arms), but I embrace your general,
Bring me the eagle ! May the kisses I bestow on thee
long resound in the hearts of the bravel Farewell, my
children—farewell, my brave companions ! Surround me
once more ſ” And they clustered around their throneless
Emperor, and they all wept together. “Farewell, fare-
well!” he again and again uttered, and, turning from the
weeping group, entered his carriage and started for Elba,
CLXXVIII,
Fallen as he was, his cortège was worthy of an emperor.
Four envoys, one from each of the great powers—Russia,
England, Austria, and Prussia—with Marshal Bertrand,



188 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Grand Master of the Palace, friends and servants, attended
Napoleon on his journey. Seven hundred of his best
soldiers, and one hundred and fifty of his Old Guard
chosen by himself, and all volunteers for the new service
accompanied their Emperor.
English historians have seemed to delight in recording
every display of disrespect, and, if we may believe them,
of indignity, shown to the dethroned Emperor as he was
passing through the southern provinces. They have even
said that his life was not safe in certain districts. If this
be false, it is a shame to proclaim it ; if it be true, it only
proves the fickleness of a French mob, and demonstrates
that the only government which can secure tranquillity to
France is despotism. In any event, it derogates nothing
from Napoleon. . : ; 3. ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. .” CLXXIX.
The cortège reached Cannes, where a French man-of-
war was waiting to convey him to Elba, But the Bour-
bon flag was flying at her peak; and as there was an
English frigate in the port, he said he would sail in her.
When his foot struck the deck of the Undaunted, every
cloud moved off from his brow; and with courtesy and
familiarity he mingled with officers and men, and conversed
cheerfully and respectfully with all. This excited univer-
Sal surprise among the English, for it never occurred to
them that a monarch could be a man. He distributed two
hundred napoleons among the crew; when he left the ship,
like honest-hearted sailors, they “wished his honour better
luck next time.” ‘. . . . . .

- CLXXX, 3
Napoleon was received with joy by the Elbans. He at
once explored his mimic empire—a rocky and moun-
tainous island near the Italian coast, some sixty miles in
NAPOLEON AT ELBA. 189
circuit—and in a few days had perfectly ascertained its
history and resources, and the character of its people.
He brought those unresting energies, which had hardly
found a continent too large for their scope, to bear with
intensity on the microscopic field to which they were now
limited. He projected and began several public works;
he despatched a corps of men to take possession of a small
neighbouring island whose population had been driven
away by the corsairs. Trade and commerce revived and
flourished; Napoleon's flag was everywhere respected;
his subjects loved him and were proud of his government.
Tetitia, his mother, and Pauline, his beautiful and accom-
plished sister, and others of his friends, visited him and
adorned his little court by their presence. He reviewed
his few hundred veteran soldiers as formally and with
as much pride as he had the innumerable hosts he led to
the battles of Eckmuhl or Austerlitz. Napoleon himself
seemed to be contented with his situation—he had fallen
from the loftiest empire to the position of a baron of the
Middle Ages without regret; and he seemed to have aban-
doned for ever the dreams of ambition.
CLXXXI.
But, as might have been supposed beforehand, the
Allied Powers violated the last treaty they had made
with him, as they had every other; they neglected to pay
him the pension they had solemnly pledged should be
paid at every quarter; and the exiled monarch was
obliged to sell every luxury and comfort around him to
raise the means of paying his current expenses. Thus re-
duced to a position which would have enraged the spirit
of any homest man, he began to forecast the future, and
contemplated a bold stroke. Everything invited his re-
turn to France. Louis XVIII. had ascended the throne.
This aged, obese, and infirm monarch was the worst man



190 . NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
in Europe to govern France. Stultified by his gourmand
and beastly indulgences, his first royal act was dated in
the 20th year of his reign, and asserted in the most pom-
pousmanner the now exploded doctrine of the divine right
of kings. He neither extended his confidence to the Na-
poleonists, or rewarded his own friends who had partici-
pated in the reverses of his long exile, France, besides,
when she had time to reflect, contemplated with shame
her own humiliation. Foreign tyrants, backed by armed
men, had dictated what kind of a government she was to
have, and forced on her a despot without consulting the
will of Frenchmen. A spirit of sullen gloom spread over
the nation; and even had not Napoleon returned from
Elba, Louis XVIII. could not long have ruled tranquilly
in France. The Allies had been working twenty years to
restore the Bourbons, who had for ever become impossible
in France, .
CLXXXII.
Napoleon saw that the moment had again come to
tempt the favours of fortune; and just after midnight, on
the 27th of February, 1815, when Pauline had given a
sumptuous entertainment to the officers of the little Elban
army, the Emperor, his suite, and eight hundred soldiers,
embarked for the coast of France to recover the throne
of the Napoleon dynasty. He landed (March 1st) at the
very spot he had touched when he arrived from Egypt,
and from which he had only ten months before embarked
for his exile. He reviewed his troops, and began his
march on Paris, - . .”
CLXXXIII,
Wherever he passed, he was received with acclamations,
He went on triumphantly from point to point—his army
augmenting at every step until he reached Grenoble,
which threw open its gates; and, reviewing 7000 men, he

RETURN FROM ELBA. 191
pressed on towards Lyons, which held at that moment a
powerful force under Marshal Macdonald and Monsieur
the heir of the Empire. ºf
Meantime, the Congress of Vienna, that had been
so long in session they had began to fight over the
division of the spoils of conquered nations, were astounded
by the news that Napoleon had landed in France, and was
marching on Paris. ‘.… . .
CLXXXIV.
The Emperor resumed at Lyons the administration of
his Empire, having already by his eloquent proclama-
tions electrified France. To the soldiers he said, “Take
again the eagles you followed at Ulm, Austerlitz, Jena,
and Montmirail. Come, range yourselves under the ban-
ners of your old chief Victory shall march at every
charging step. The eagle, with the national colours,
shall fly from steeple to steeple—on to the towers of
Notre Dame ! In your old age, surrounded and honoured
by your fellow-citizens, you shall be heard with respect
when you recount your noble deeds, You shall then say
with pride, ‘I also was one of that great army which
twice entered the walls of Vienna, took Rome, Berlin,
Madrid and Moscow, and which delivered Paris from
the stain of domestic treason and the occupation of
strangers.” - - -
- CLXXXV.
And thus from village to village, and city to city, the
swelling tide rolled on towards Paris. On the night of
the 19th the Emperor once more slept at his Palace of
Fontainbleau. The next evening he made his public
entry into his capital, and, amidst the shouts of hundreds
of thousands, the conqueror of kingdoms entered the
Tuileries, and was borne in triumph on the shoulders of
the Parisians to the magnificent salon, now crowded by



192 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
the beauty and the chivalry of Paris, and from which
Louis XVIII. had but a few hours before fled. Accla-
mations wilder than had ever proclaimed his greatest
victories rang through Paris, and all night the cannon of
Austerlitz and Marengo sent their reverberations over
the illuminated city. . .
.” CLXXXVI. .
Europe, astounded by the intelligence wherever it.
spread, was now martialled for the last struggle against
Napoleon. The great Powers signed a final treaty, in
which they proclaimed Bonaparte an outlaw, and pledged
their faith to exterminate him from the face of the earth.
Once more every nation on the Continent rang with the
clangour of warlike preparation, and, before sixty days
had passed, a million of armed men were marching to the
scene of the final struggle,
CLXXXVII.
Before the close of May, Napoleon had upwards of
300,000 soldiers ready for battle, besides an Imperial
Guard of nearly 40,000 chosen veterans; while the last
Scion of the Bourbon race had been driven from the soil,
and the tricolour which had waved in triumph over so
many subject-nations was now unfurled again from the
Rhine to the Pyrenees, and from the British Channel
to the shores of the Mediterranean.
CLXXXVIII,
The Napoleon Empire was now restored, and, to all
appearances, with its ancient vigour. But events were
thickening around Napoleon; and failing in every attempt
to negotiate with the Allied Powers, he left Paris on the
evening of the 11th of June, and three days after reviewed
his army at Beaumont. It was the anniversary of the


victorious days of Friedland, and Marengo. He never
seemed more confident on the eve of a great engagement,
nor addressed more stirring words to his soldiers. Every
man under his standards was fired with the thirst for
battle. . 3 :s
, CLXXXIX. . . . . . . . . . .
Hostile divisions had met and fought on the 16th at
Quatre Bras and Ligny, with almost unparalleled losses
on either side. Napoleon's bulletins announced two bril-
liant victories. Blucher, with 80,000 men, had been
compelled to yield to one of the most terrible assaults he
ever had to encounter, led on by Napoleon himself. It
cost the Prussian army 20,000 men, inflamed the en-
thusiasm of the French, and again spread the ancient
terror of Napoleon's name through the ranks of his
enemies. But these were only transient flashes from
Napoleon's sinking star, . 2: ... .
tº . x- CXC, * . . . . ;
Finally, the day of Napoleon's last battle broke in
clouds and wind, after a night of tempest. It was Sun.
day—a day which, since the time of the Saviour, Christian
nations have devoted to mercy, adoration, and repose.
But the Sabbath of the 18th of June, 1815, witnessed
the struggle of one hundred and fifty thousand men grap-
pling with each other in the terrible work of destruction;
and whoever may have rejoiced in the result, the carnage
of that day filled Europe with mourning. .
One word of this battle, and we end the military history
of Napoleon. The two armies were drawn up on opposite
ranges of irregular but gentle elevations; and the pre-
ceding night had drenched the intervening plain of waving
grain like a flood, --- … . .
CXCI, ſ .
At eleven o'clock Napoleon's bugles gave the signal;
Jerome advanced with a column of 6000 men, and the
. O



194 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Battle of Waterloo began. Under the cover of heavy
batteries, whose balls flew on their errand of death over the
heads of his troops, the King of Westphalia charged the
right wing of Wellington, which rested on the Château
Hougomont. Slowly the engagement extended, from
point to point, and division closed with division till the
tide of battle had swept over the plain—two miles from
wing to wing—and 150,000 men had closed in the terrific
struggle. The battle had now lasted from eleven till four,
and ten thousand men had fallen every hour. Broken,
bleeding, and exhausted battalions had charged, and closed,
and recoiled; and so equal had been the conflict that victory
seemed about to fold its wings over a mutual slaughter.
But an incident now occurred which promised soon to
decide the day. Blucher, the veteran marshal, with his
veteran Prussians, thirsting for vengeance for the long and
deep humiliation of the crown of Frederick the Great,
came in sight to restore the half-discomfited Wellington;
but Marshal Grouchy, who had been left to hold him in
check, did not appear. In a moment Napoleon saw that,
if these new and vast reinforcements were allowed to join
Wellington's army, the day was lost.
CXCII,
The French Emperor held his glass steadily to his eye
for a few moments, and then despatched his aids to Reille
and Ney, with orders for the Old Guard of the Empire
to advance. This most superb body of soldiers, probably,
that ever marched under the banners of any conqueror,
descended to the plain. For five long hours they had
watched the ebb and flow of the hardest-contested of all
their battle-fields,
With a shout, “Wive l'Empereur,” which drowned the
now subsiding roar of artillery, these two mighty columns.

195
of heroes launched themselves on the centre of the allied
lines. Riding on full gallop along their lines just as they
wATERLoo.
were starting, Napoleon had time only to say, “Heroes of
all my victories, I confide to you my Empire.”
CXCIII.
The fate of the most glorious empire the sun ever set
on now hung on a single charge. Ney had gained many
a victory, and never lost a battle; the men he led had
fought in Africa, Asia, and Europe, and never known de-
feat ; and each one felt himself confided with as sacred a
trust at that moment as though he had carried in his
hand the crown of his Emperor. -
On an elevation Napoleon stood and watched the last
charge of his Imperial Guard, till they were wrapped in
the smoke of battle. Where they were he did not know
—they could not tell themselves. But their enemies
knew that they had trod them in the plain. This charge
had fallen on Wellington's army like a bolt from heaven
—they were paralysed for a moment—the cloud of smoke
rose from the plain—Napoleon saw his Guard struggling
at the very mouth of the cannon. The first charge had
launched them into the heart of the enemy's lines. Each
army was now in full view. Wellington trained his bat-
teries on this last column of his antagonist ; and Napoleon
saw his Old Guard sink into the earth, where they closed
with the foe. - . . .
- CXCIV.
One hundred of Wellington's officers had died, five
hundred were wounded—many mortally—and 15,000 of
his soldiers had fallen, wounded or dead. .
Napoleon remained on the field till his army was no
more; and, taking post-horses, he pressed on to Paris.
Twenty-four hours after the Battle of Waterloo had been



196 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
fought he was again in his capital. As soon as the dis-
astrous news was known, Paris was filled with murmurs,
gloom, and treachery. Talleyrand and Fouché had be-
trayed him to Wellington beforehand. He saw that to
recover himself was impossible; and he ended his politi-
cal history by the following proclamation to the French
people — z. 3.
--> ----. ------. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . CXCV.
“FRENCHMEN 1 Tn commencing war for the mainte-
nance of the national independence, I relied on the union
of all efforts, all wills, and all authorities. I had reason
to hope for success, and I braved all the declarations of
the Powers against me. Circumstances appear to be
changed. Ioffer myself as a sacrifice to the hatred of the
enemies of France. May they prove sincere in their de-
clarations, and to have aimed only at me ! My political
life is ended ; and I proclaim my son, Napoleon II.,
Emperor of the French. Unite for the public safety, if
you would remain an independent nation.—Done at the
Palace Elysée, June the 22nd, 1815. NAPOLEON.”
Thus ended the reign of the Hundred Days.
CXCVI.
Napoleon had resolved to retire to America, and fix his
home in the United States; and he should at once have
carried out his purpose. Our vessels were in every French
port, and he could have crossed the Atlantic in Safety.
But he wasted the precious days of his freedom. He
retired to Malmaison; but he was no longer greeted by the
warm embrace of Josephine: the divorced wife had for-
gotten all her wrongs and sorrows in the hallowed precincts
of the village church of Ruel. What may have been the
feelings of the fallen Emperor as he walked through the
deserted halls of Malmaison at midnight, in the midst of



SURRENDER. To BRITISH goverNMENT. 197
the ruins of his Empire, and so near the ashes of his
divorced Josephine, we do not wish to know. ..
º CXCVII, ; : . . . . -- .
As he had lingered at the Kremlin, Dresden, and Fon-
tainbleau—the three stages of his ruin—so did he linger
at Malmaison. The spell was still over him. Fate had
decreed that, when the Sapped castle at last fell, the ruin
should be complete. , ...? §: & X
At last, on the 29th of June—eleven days after the Battle
of Waterloo–with Marshal Bertrand, a few other friends,
and a guard of mounted men, he set out for Rochefort,
where he arrived the 3rd of July. But the dark hull of
an English line-of-battle-ship was visible out at sea; and
after some hesitation, Napoleon said, “Wherever wood can
float, there is the flag of England. I will throw myself
into her hands, a helpless foe.” r
CXCVIII.
Napoleon wrote the following letter to the Prince
Regent, and then voluntarily went on board the Bellero-
phon —
. . . . . . JRochefort, July 13, 1815.
Royal HIGHNESS,-Exposed to the factions which divide my country,
and the hostility of the greatest powers of Europe, I have closed my
political career. I come, like Themistocles, to seek the hospitality of the
English nation. I place myself under the protection of their laws, which
I claim from your Royal Highness as the most powerful, the most con-
stant, and the most generous of my enemies, -
. - NAPOLEON.
CxcIx. * . . . . . . . .
This letter was received by the English commander,
and sent to England; but Napoleon should have long
before learned that to his letters to British princes no
answers would be returned,
198 s NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
The following day the Emperor went on board the
Bellerophon; and as he took the hand of Captain Maitland,
he said, “I come to place myself under the protection of
your prince and laws.” This act of magnanimous confi-
dence cost the greatest man of that age, if not of all ages,
his liberty for life, and a lingering death of torment for
six years, embittered by the insults and tyranny of his
jailers. * , r --- … --
. CC.
On the 23rd the vessel passed Ushant, and for the last
time Napoleon gazed on the coast of France. The final
decision of the British Government was communicated to
their prisoner on the 31st. It was that General Bonaparte
should be transported to St. Helena, without being per-
mitted to land on the shores of England, and allowed to
take, with him three officers, one surgeon, and twelve
domestics; Savary and L'Allemand being excluded from
the persons of his choice. Napoleon solemnly protested
against this arbitary and cruel decision, but without avail.
In a nation where rank is worshipped from king to beggar,
to deny to the Emperor the title by which all other nations
recognised him was an act of cowardly meanness, now that
he was powerless in the hands of his enemies. It was the
beginning of a succession of petty annoyances, followed
up for years, by which England embittered and shortened
the life of the man she could now hate with impunity.
CCI,
The illustrious prisoner was transferred to the Wor-
thumberland (under Admiral Sir George Cockburn), with
his suite, consisting of Marshal Bertrand, General Mon-
tholon, and their ladies and children, Dr. O'Meara, an
Irish naval surgeon, and twelve upper servants of the late
imperial household, who desired to share in the fortunes


NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. - 199
of their master. On the 8th of August, the ship which
bore the dethroned Emperor left England, and after a
voyage of about seventy days came in sight of St. He-
lena, Napoleon was forty-six years old when his exile
began. ...’ z
º *CCII.
From the first hour of his imprisonment to the last,
the British Government made his life a studied insult—
an unceasing torment. Requests were denied, comforts
withheld, and every indignity offered. His intercourse
with Europe was more completely cut off than it had
been during the campaign of Egypt. Only at long in-
tervals could he receive a message of affection from his
friends; and it was through some old newspaper that he,
from time to time, learned that his son, or wife, or
mother, or other members of his family, were still alive.
This life of torture lasted six years, every day of which
seemed a whole life of misery. There were few men who,
under any circumstances, could suffer more keenly than
Napoleon—probably, of the thousand million of the
earth's inhabitants, no one suffered so much. Even with
every token of respect, and every alleviation humanity
could have dictated, the cancer which was slowly con-
suming his vitals ought to have been an avenger cruel
enough to appease the anger of his foes. He was for so
many years under its influence, men have ceased to
wonder that he was sometimes passionate, impatient, or
even unjust. . .”
CCIII.
In spite of the ceaseless efforts of the British press to
keep alive the hatred with which Napoleon had been
hunted down, and notwithstanding the vigilance of his
jailer that no true account of affairs should be sent to
Europe, the course of the British Government had from
200 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
the beginning been boldly criticised by many of the best
men in England; and when facts at last came out, a
general sentiment of indignation was inflamed against
Great Britain throughout the world. The day has
already come when there is not an Englishman on the
earth who does not blush at the treatment of Napoleon
by a great and powerful state, which could have afforded
to be magnanimous even to its worst foe. * . . . . º.
We can give no idea of his life in St. Helena in this
work. At last, after a lingering illness, it became appa-
rent to his surgeon in the beginning of May, 1821, that
Napoleon must soon die. He expected it himself. He
had already lived much longer than he desired; and he
had completed all his preparations to leave the earth.
He was surrounded by Bertrand, Montholon, and other
devoted friends, and he had given to them his final
instructions.
- - CCIV.
The 4th of May was ushered in with a wild storm,
which swept the island, tearing up almost all the trees
about Longwood, and shaking the humble dwelling where
the imperial sufferer lay. He had fallen into a delirious
stupor, from which he was hardly-to wake again on earth.
The storm continued through the night with increasing
violence, and “Twice,” says the faithful Montholon, “I
thought I distinguished the unconnected words, “ France
—armée, téte d'armée-Josephine.’” These were his last
words; and they bespoke the dreams of battle, love, and
empire through which his soul was passing to another life.
All the following day he lay motionless on his back, “with
his right hand out of the bed and his eyes fixed, seem-
ingly absorbed in deep meditation, and without any ap-
pearance of suffering; his lips were slightly contracted,
and his whole face expressed pleasant and gentle impres-
sions.” . - -- - -





DEATH of NAPOLEON. . 201
Finally, at half-past five in the evening, after another
day of tempests, he ceased to breathe, and the founder of
the Napoleon dynasty had passed for ever from the reach
of his enemies, r
Cov.
on the 6th, the body of the Emperor was clothed in
the uniform of the chasseurs of his Guard, and laid on
his camp-bed in the narrow chamber, with the cloak he
had worn at Marengo thrown over his feet. The regi-
ments of the garrison and the crews of the fleet, in full
dress, defiled, unarmed, before the deceased conqueror.
All bent the kneein involuntary homage; and some of the
officers intreated to be allowed the honour of passing the
glass-door of the room where he lay to press to their lips
a corner of the cloak of Marengo. .
CCVI,
On the evening of the 7th, “the body of the Emperor,”
says the procèsverbal of Bertrand, Montholon, and Mar-
chand, “being clothed in the uniform of the chasseurs of
his Guard, was by us, the undersigned, placed in a tin
coffin, lined with white satin, and having a pillow and
mattress of the same. We also put into this coffin the
heart, inclosed in a silver vase, surmounted by the imperial
eagle, and the box containing the stomach; also a silver
vase, engraved with the imperial arms, a cover of silver
ditto, a plate ditto, six double napoleons in French gold,
four single gold napoleons, a double silver napoleon, and
two Italian double napoleons of gold. The first coffin
having been soldered in our presence was placed in another
of lead, which, after having been also soldered, was
inclosed in a third coffin of mahogany. On the 9th of
May, at eleven o'clock, the garrison being under arms and
lining the way, the cortège quitted Longwood, The cor-



202 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
ners of the cloak which he had worn in every campaign
since Marengo were held by Count Bertrand, Count
Montholon, Napoleon Bertrand, and Marchand; the
Countess Bertrand, and the whole of the Emperor's house-
hold, surrounded the funeral car. The staff, and succes-
sively the whole garrison, followed in its rear. At noon,
the almoner of the Emperor having blessed the grave dug
by the fountain Colbett, and the prayers being concluded,
the coffin was lowered into the grave, amidst the reports
of salvos of artillery from the forts and the ships of the
squadron. The grave was then filled in and closed with
masonry in our presence, and a guard of honour placed
beside it.” .” º,
. CCVII.
For a quarter of a century Napoleon had now slept in
his volcanic tomb ; but his ideas had been slowly revo-
lutionising Europe. The elder Bourbons, whom England
and her allies had fought for twenty-five years to restore,
had once more been driven into exile by an outraged and
indignant people. The inauguration of Louis Philippe,
as the Citizen King of France, had quelled for another
decade the irrepressible spirit of liberty and progress
which Napoleon had awakened; and France, which had
spilled so much precious blood in the wars of the Revolu-
tion, the Consulate, and the Empire, now greeted with
subdued but hopeful enthusiasm the accession of a
Sovereign who would give her domestic tranquillity,
restore the shattered fortunes of her people, and unfold
before them a future of hope. .--
But while the hum of business was again heard along
all her marts of commerce, and the glad, peasants were
training anew their vines towards the genial Sun of the
south, and palace, boulevard, and promenade were radiant
with luxury, fashion, and pleasure, Napoleon and his Iliad


REMOVAL OF NAPOLEON's ASHES. 203
of glory were not forgotten. They treasured these things
in their hearts. The peasant by his fireside, the mariner
on the distant sea, the metropolitan in his giddy whirl of
pleasure, and, above all, the † --~~ Li-º-º-º-º-, 4-a----- i
wrecks of the Grande Armée, wept over his fate, and all
called for the executi f his last will, which had desired
2.
ſº...?
that his body might be borne to the banks of the Seine,
and buried in the French people.
CCVIII.
At last the French Government responded to this
appeal, and, at the request of Thiers, the Premier of
France, England surrendered the ashes of her illustrious
victim. Louis Philippe commissioned his son, the Prince
de Joinville, to bring home the body of the Emperor; and
this noble young sailor spread the sails of the Bellepoule
for Saint Helena. -
After all the preparations had been made, at midnight
(15th October, 1840), the sepulchre of Napoleon was
opened. There lay the body of the Emperor as he had
sunk to his last sleep. Time, which spares nothing, had
kept sacred the form which enshrined that great spirit.
To the eye and to the touch the body was almost as
entire as when it was laid there; and as the surgeon
lifted from the face the satin veil which had rested there
a quarter of a century, those who bent over the body
(and some of them had assisted in laying him in his
coffin) were startled by the unchanged and still speaking
features of the dead Emperor. .
w CCIX. × .
On the morning of Tecember 9th, a réveille summoned
the National Guard at Havre, which had been joined by
the guard of Montivillers from the interior, to pay their


204 . . . . . . . . . NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
1ast tribute to the dust of the deceased Emperor of France;
and, at seven, the little squadron turned their prows
toward the mouth of the Seine. “Gradually,” says the
man in whose arms Napoleon died, “the vessel, with its
glorious burden, was borne on the waves away from the
deeply-moved multitude, whose solemn silence was only
broken by the first cannon, announcing that the mortal
remains of the Emperor had entered a French river—that
Seine whose shores he had chosen for his resting-place.
At the same moment, and as it were at the signal given
by the artillery, the sun rose, pure and brilliant, above the
hills that bound the river. The coffin (which was in full
view on the vessel) seemed surrounded by a luminous
atmosphere, of which the rays of the golden crown that
rested on the pall were the centre. This was not a
prestige; Napoleon re-entered France encircled by glory
—the sun of Austerlitz saluted the return of the hero.
As the funeral convoy now began to ascend the Seine,
the banks of this river became crowded with multitudes
of spectators, whose presence was attested by shots fired
as a salute by aged peasants, become soldiers again to
present arms to the ashes of their general.” r
CCX. .
And so up the glorious Seine, through cities, green
fields, and under the walls of castles, the convoy rode
on, bearing the imperial coffin, surrounded by wax-lights,
covered with the imperial pall, and shaded by a group of
standards. On the 15th of December, in the midst of
the most imposing and magnificent ceremonies Paris had
ever witnessed, the body of the Emperor was borne to the
Invalides, where it lay for many days publicly exposed,
and around it France gathered inveneration and love. On
the 6th of February the coſlin was taken from the imperial

NAPOLEON's LAST RESTING-PLACE, 205
cenotaph, and placed in the chapel of St. Jerome, in the
church of the Invalides, where it was to remain till the
completion of the mausoleum. On the coffin lay the
chapeau the hero had worn at Eylau, his sword and impe-
rial crown; and over these emblems waved the standards
taken at Austerlitz. Within their folds one of the eagles
of the Empire spread its golden wings, and looked down
on the hero with whose banners it had flown from the Gulf
of the Adriatic to the Pillars of Hercules, and from the
snows of Russia to the sands of the Pyramids. Four of
his Old Guard, with naked sabres, watched day and night
by the ashes of their beloved chief --




BOOK III.
. PRESS Jos EPHINE
Born at St Pierre, Martinique, June 23, 1763; Died at Malmaison,
May 29, 1814: B ried in the parish church of the village
of Ruel, near Paris.
IN walking through the portrait-gallery of those who
flourished during the time of Napoleon, there is no one
that has arrested the gaze of so many eyes as Josephine.
Around her history lingers a charm which genius alone
has been able to throw over the pages of romance. Among
the most beautiful of women, and graced by every charm
which captivates the heart, she was gifted with so much
affections of the mightiest and the most wayward of men.
No man has ever yet been able to read the history of
Josephine's divorce without a sigh of sorrow ; and yet
Heaven, which had once linked her fate with Napoleon's,
had linked them for ever. The mother, who had given
birth to those beautiful children who flashed as gems from
the crown of Napoleon, could give birth to no more on
her second marriage; and she was cast aside from motives
of state policy, and yielding, as she did, with so much
submission, and the same grace which adorned all her
actions, she became dearer to the world than ever,
. II.
But Heaven has vindicated her, and she has been more
than revenged. At last Providence has accomplished, . . . . . .”
even for the ambition of Napoleon, what the heart of
. nd good sense that she preserved to the last the











SPH IN E.
J{}S
“...
&
..)





JosephinEs FAMILY. 207
Josephine, so many years longed for. Her blood has
mingled with the blood of the Bonapartes in founding the
Napoleon dynasty, for her grandson now sits on t º
of France. T .
not only the founder but the friend
o give up
that Heaven is n
*::::::::: poleon dynasty. The conqueror of Europe had
a son by his second wife, but that son was torn from his
arms, and carried away by his enemies, taught through
life to regard his father with abhorrence, and died at last
without having indicated the genius of his sire. But a
son of Josephine's daughter (the beautiful Hortense), after
the convulsions of almost half a century had passed, was
to be raised by the most unforeseen and unexpected events
to the same seat of power his uncle once filled ; and now
the world looks on the spectacle of the union of the blood
of Napoleon and Josephine, in the present Emperor of the
French Republic. . sº .
Marie-Joseph-Rose-Tascher, the only child of Joseph-
Gaspard-Tascher and Rose-Claire-Desvergers de Sanois.
was born in the capital of Martinique Both of her parents §
were natives of France, though married in St. Domingo
(1761), M. Tascher appears to have joined the army at
an early age, and became a captain of horse, a circumstance
which bespeaks distinguished birth, since, until the Revo-
lution had overwhelmed the feudal system, no office of
honour or emolument could be held under the Crown
except by the noblesse. In the year 1758 he was despatched
to the West Indies with some military commission from
the court of France, of whose nature or termination we
know nothing. At the period of Josephine's birth he
was residing on his estate in St. Domingo. We have un-












208 THE EMPRESS JoSEPHINE,
successfully searched for any traces of interest in the
history of Josephine's mother ; but we have been able to
learn only that she was born of an ancient noble family
in the south of France, and had accompanied her family
to the French possessions in the West Indies, after mis-
fortune had stripped them of most of their estates at
home. ... . . . . . . .”
“. . . ... 3:... 3 - IV.
By the early death of her mother, Josephine was placed
in the care of an aunt of talent and culture, who seems to
have devoted herself to the education of her ward with
assiduity and enthusiasm, How extraordinary was the
success which rewarded her exertions and solicitudes, the
history, the graces, and the accomplishments of Josephine
afterwards proclaimed to all the world. :::::::::
We cannot ascertain the exact period of the death of
her father; but there is every reason to believe that it
occurred during her early childhood, for in all her corre-
spondence and conversations in reference to the members
of her family and her associates at every period of life, no
one seems to have been overlooked, and therefore it is
reasonable to suppose that she preserved but faint and ,
few recollections of her father and mother.
Madame Renaudin, the aunt who was charged with her
education, had fortunately married a gentleman of respec-
tability and wealth ; and Josephine was brought up with
every appliance of comfort and luxury, and surrounded by
many of the embellishments of refined and polite life.
V.
All accounts seem to concur in the statement that the
characteristic developments of Josephine from the earliest
childhood were amiable and lovely. She possessed an
instinctive refinement of sentiment, tenderness of feeling,


JoSEPHINE’s CHILDHooD. 209
and elegance of manner. The reader should not be be-,
trayed into the mistake which has been so often incurred,
of supposing that at the period we are now speaking of
little of the refinement of Europe was known on the other.
side of the Atlantic. This was, no doubt, the case in the
British colonies, except in those few circles which were
irradiated immediately by the officers or agents of the
British Crown; but it was far different in the French
possessions of the New World. Very many of the most
gifted, refined, noble, and opulent of the subjects of France
chose these distant parts of the world for the scenes of
their service and adventure, and particularly among the
French islands of our Cis-Atlantic archipelago. The
blandness of the climate of Martinique, and the happy,
and for a long time undisturbed social relations, of duties
and obligations, of affection and respect, which subsisted
in that island between the masters and their slaves, ren-
dered it one of the favourite spots to which the young
nobles of France, both in the army and in the navy, con-
sidered it a pleasure to resort, particularly at the period
we are now speaking of, when fierce agitations were pre-
paring the way in France for the great Revolution of 1789.
Home disturbances had sent a large number of enterpris-
ing and accomplished Frenchmen to the possessions of
Louis in the western world. Therefore it is not strange
that the subject of this sketch should have come under
the genial and refining influences which emanated at that
period from the most enlightened, brilliant, and cultivated
nation on the earth. With such advantages, her native
refinement and genius for courtly society prepared her for
the brilliant scenes she was to mingle in, as the central
star of imperial splendour under the martial reign of
Napoleon. Her voice, although not trained in the severe
school of art, was far softer and more touching than almost
any of the singers of her age. She played well on several
. P

210 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
instruments, and especially on the harp, which has always
been the favourite medium of the language of sentiment
and poetry. ... “..…....?
When she opened the salons of the First Consul, and
the age of proscription had passed, inviting once more to
the gilded halls of the French monarchs the high-born
dames of France, with the courtly chivalry of the age of
Louis XIV., those splendidassemblies gazed with astonish-
ment upon the grace and faultless symmetry with which
she floated through the dances of the court. She was,
perhaps, not eminently beautiful, when her countenance
was in repose; but the moment she gazed upon a human
face all the gentle sentiments that belong to the kindest
hearts and the most genial souls radiated from her features;
and although the artists seldom succeeded, even with an
attempt to flatter, in making very beautiful pictures of
her, yet it was acknowledged on all hands that she was
captivating in her manners and too beautiful to be painted
at all. During her entire life there was a highly-refined
loveliness emanating from her countenance which baffles
description, as it eluded in its evanescent loveliness the
happiest touches of the pencil. . § . .”. :::: ... : : .
Another courtly accomplishment she particularly ex-
celled in . she not only inherited by nature a grace which
imparted a special charm to all she did, but she possessed
the most exquisite skill and genius in the courtly art of
scenic embroidery. Some of her pieces of needlework are
still exhibited with pride in the salons and cabinets of
Europe; and they are believed to surpass all that had been
executed in European courts for at least a century.
WI.
But her accomplishments extended to a broader and
higher and nobler field. She had so far perfected herself
in following her instinctive tastes and the instructions of





Joseph.INE’s Accomplish MENTs, 211
her masters that there was scarcely a flowering plant, or
shrub, or beautiful green thing of any climate or nation,
that her knowledge of botany did not at once enable her
to define with precision and taste. There is a flower now
which is worn in the hair and on the bosom of every
beautiful woman at the courts of Europe during the un-
kindly frosts of winter, for which they are all indebted to
Josephine. She introduced the camelia from the West
Indies, when she returned to France. This alone, with
women of taste, ought to have the highest and the
most brilliant armorial bearing for her descendants for
ever. She not only sang well, as we have said, but she
read most captivatingly—an accomplishment, perhaps, still
rarer. There was many a period in the stormy life of the
Emperor of France when his passions were soothed, his
anger softened, and even the fortunes of Europe affected
propitiously by the harmonious and persuasive tones of
hine's philosophical, historical, sentimental, and poeti-
cal readings. Napoleon once said, after the acclamations
of the French nation had greeted one of the first of his
lofty flights of ambition, “that the first applause of the
French people sounded as sweet in his ear as the voice of
Josephine.” Some of our readers may not attach so much
importance as we do to these often-called ephemeral and
superficial graces, but they were not evanescent, for they
lasted through life; and they were not superficial, for they
emanated from a harmonious and well-balanced mind:
and, indeed, so complete was the mental structure of Jose-
phine's genius that, in the symmetry and harmony of all
its developments, it lost the erratic flashes that have
usually asserted their claim to that kind of talent which
the world has for ages bowed down to in adoration.
Such was the simple Creole girl whose fortunes Heaven
had linked with those of the greatest of chieftains, and
the most wonderful of modern empires,




212 THE EMPRESS Joseph.INE,
VII.
History, by whomsoever written, or however lofty may
be its theme, should never overlook those humble indi-
viduals who in their little spheres perform their duties so
well that the relation of them in connexion with charac-
ters of great importance may excite the admiration and
regard of mankind. Euphémie, the faithful and affec-
tionate negro slave, who followed Josephine with such
devotedness from her cradle through life, shall have her
place in this narrative before she is compelled to resign
it to the ladies of honour of the French Empire. This
family-servant, kind, generous, and devoted, who was the
protector and companion of Josephine for so many years,
and participated in her subsequent fortunes with such
hearty rejoicing, invites us to stop a moment to inquire
whether after all, in the great system of compensations
which Providence has ordained, there may not be more good
than we have sometimes supposed in those relations which
impose the sacred obligations of gratitude, protection, and
love toward those amiable and often neglected children of
the African race, who embellish the lives and administer to
the luxury of prouder and superior nations.
VIII,
Josephine, with the sweetest cond ion and hland-
ness of disposition, did not refrain sometimes from joining in
the dances or listening to the songs of the African maidens,
who loved to gather in the garden or in the hall of her
house—an intimacy which no other form of society can
possibly admit, between the mistress and servant, except
that mysterious and most inexplicable relation that sub-
sists between the European and the slave. “I was not a
stranger to their sports,” she said, “and I hope I proved
myself neither insensible to their griefs nor indifferent to


3. HER FORTUNE PROPHESIED. . 213
their pleasures.” . We can hardly neglect the record here
of an incident which may provoke the smile of many a
reader, but it was so strange an event it put forth an in-
fluence upon the fancy of Josephine till the last hour of
her life. If it may seem to border upon the realm of
superstition, it is not below the realm of history to record
it; for its business is to make men familiar with what-
ever sways human fortunes. Therefore, in Josephine's
own words, as she recorded them some years afterwards,
and before their prophetic significance could possibly
have dictated what we copy, she said— .
“One day, before my first marriage, in taking my
morning walk, I observed several negro girls gathered
around an old woman who was telling their fortunes.
When I came up, the old Sybil screamed out and seized
my hand in the greatest agitation. Yielding to the ab-
surdity, I gave it to her, and said, ‘You discover, then,
something wonderful in my destiny; is it happiness or
misfortune p : Misfortune—and—stop !—happiness, too!’
‘You do not commit yourself, good dame!’ ‘I am not
permitted to render them more clearly, she said, as she
looked up towards heaven; but beginning to be inte-
rested, I asked, ‘Can you tell me my futurity ?’ ‘Will
you believe me, if I do speak it?’ ‘Yes,' I said, ‘good
mother, I will.’ ‘On your own head be it, then. Listen!
You will soon be married; but you will not be happy.
You will be a widow, and then—then you will be Queen
of France. Some happy years will be yours; but you
will die in a hospital amid civil commotion.” As she
finished these words,” says Josephine, “she burst away
from the crowd and hurried as fast as her feeble limbs
would carry her. Iforbade the bystanders from troubling
the old prophetess about this ridiculous prediction, and
told the young negresses that they must never heed such
stories. I laughed at it myself with my friends, but when
%

214 THE EMPRESS Joseph INE.
%
my husband had died on the scaffold I could not keep this
scene out of my fancy; and though I was in prison, when
its fulfilment seemed less possible than ever, so deeply did
it overshadow me, I could not feel that it would not all
become a reality.” ; : . . . . . . ;
Just as Josephine had completed her sixteenth year, she
became the wife of Vicomte Alexander de Beauharnais, a
young noble, who held a commission in the French army,
and who, from the most credible accounts, had clandes-
tinely embarked in one of those small expeditions which,
with the favour of Louis, had sailed to this country to aid
America in the War of Independence, before the brilliant
expedition for the same purpose was fitted out and des-
patched under D'Estang in the beginning of 1778. We
have made many investigations with the hope of tracing
the part which the Vicomte played in this revolutionary
drama; but we have succeeded only in ascertaining
that in January, 1778, he held a regular commission in
the army of Louis, sailed for the British colonies in
America, fought during the struggle under Lafayette, and
subsequently sailed for Martinique to assert his right to
estates which had recently fallen to him and his brother,
the Marquis de Beauharnais, on the death of a relation.
Our disappointment at the failure of these investigations
is the greater, since Providence seems to have connected,
in a peculiar manner, the fortunes of the French nation,
and particularly the members of the Bonaparte family,
with America. But the records and military rolls of the
Revolution were so informally kept, and so few of them
have been preserved, that we fear no subsequent researches
will be more successful than our own.
The estates which the young French noble inherited
joined the domains of M. Renaudin. The vicinity of their
residences soon made him and Josephine acquainted, and





§
MARRIAGE witH BEAUHARNAIs, 215
not long after they were united in marriage. In 1794,
Josephine, in the following language, thus speaks of the
nuptials: “If I have been indebted to your father for all
my happiness (she is addressing her children), I can venture
to say that I owe the union to my own character, so many
were the obstacles which opposed it. But without any
effort of talent I effected their removal. My own heart
gave me the means of winning the affection of my husband's
family—patience and kindness are sure at last to conciliate
the good-will of all. You, too, possess, my dear children,
these facilities which cost so little, and achieve so much; but
you must know how to employ them, and I may with pro-
priety, in this respect, ask you to imitate my example.”
r X. ź
Not long after her marriage, Josephine, with her
husband, sailed for France (1779). They were received
with surprise, delight, and courtesy in Paris; and when
Josephine was introduced to the court of Marie Antoinette,
she at once became a favourite with that splendid, amiable,
but unfortunate queen. All her graces created surprise
and excited admiration; and could the future then have
been unfolded to those two beautiful women, who, when
they conversed together, created the centre of attraction
and elegance in the Court of St. Cloud, a chill of horror
would have run to the centre of every heart.
Several summers were passed by Josephine and her
husband in travelling through France, while their home
was on his estates in Brittany, where (September 3rd,
1780) Josephine gave birth to her only son, Eugene, and,
three years later, to Hortense, her only daughter.
XI.
The intercourse between Josephine and her husband
was marked for several years by every sign of mutual
#


216 * THE EMPRESS. JOSEPHINE,
|
|
regard and affection ; but her peace was at last destroyed
by an estrangement of affection, in consequence of an
attachment he had formed for another person. It ended
in a voluntary separation; and Josephine, with her chil-
dren, returned to Martinique, where they remained for
several years, with no expectation of ever again being
greeted kindly by the father and the husband. Thus
early fell a cloud over the heart of Josephine in this first
marriage, which was but a precursor of the wild storm
that so many years afterwards desolated her peace.
At last, in circumstances of destitution, Josephine
returned with her children to France ; a reconciliation
with her husband was effected, and so completely did
she forgive, and so magnanimous was the spirit with
which the injured wife again received her husband, that
she adopted his natural daughter, for whom she made
ample and splendid provision under the Empire,
XII.
Beauharnais had espoused the cause of the Revolution
when it first broke out, and had been returned to the Con-
stitutional Assembly as representative for the noblesse of
Blois. In 1792 he also became a member of the National
Convention, of which he was twice President. Although
he was most enthusiastically devoted to the principles of
1epublican liberty, and sustained Lafayette in the course
that celebrated patriot took during that period of trouble,
still his public career was marked by a spirit of modera-
tion, and he was known as a member of the party of the
Girondists, over whose sufferings, heroism, and patriotic
Services, the genius of Lamartine has thrown so brilliant
historic glow. ---
The triumph of the Jacobins in 1793 overwhelmed
Beauharnais in the destruction of his party, and this
amiable and patriotic man, with a whole army of the


Joseph INE ARRESTED. . 217
friends of France, of humanity, and of freedom, combining
much of the intelligence and all the moderation of the
State, were swept into the prisons of Paris, and immo-
lated upon the altar of Robespierre. There was some-
thing particularly touching in the condemnation and
death of Beauharnais, for he was a Major-General of
France, and had occupied the post which Moreau, the
hero of Hohenlinden, subsequently filled, and he was the
only Commander-in-Chief of all France who had ventured
to return to his country after the first explosion of the
Revolution. When he was consigned to the dungeons of
the Luxembourg, his only crimes were rank and merit.
If we could spare the space, we should feel it a duty to
trace minutely the manly conduct of this noble officer
during the period of his imprisonment, and when he went
to execution. The conduct also of Josephine during the
imprisonment of her husband was worthy of all praise;
and several unfortunate persons whom her efforts, per-
suasions, or influence had rescued from death, lived to
present their grateful thanks at her feet when she was
elevated to the most brilliant throne in the world.



... . . . . . . . . . .” XIII, -- .N. . .
The blow which had fallen upon her husband was
destined not long after to prostrate herself. She was
arrested in her house, and conducted to prison. In
describing the scene she says, “A loud knocking was
heard at the outer door of the house. I saw that my
hour was come; and finding the requisite courage in the
consciousness that the blow was inevitable, I resigned my-
self to endurance. While the tumult continued increasing,
I passed into my children's apartment; they were sleep-
ing, and their peaceful slumber, contrasted with their
mother's trouble, made me weep. I impressed upon my
daughter's forehead, alas! perhaps my last kiss. She felt


#
218 ºf PRESS E
the maternal tears, and, though still asleep, clasped her
arms around my neck, whispering in broken murmurs,
* Come to bed | Fear nothing; they shan’t take you away
to-night, for I have prayed to God for you.’ Meanwhile
a crowd had entered my sitting-room, and at the head of
ferocious and armed men stood the President, whose pre-
judices against my husband were deemed by him sufficient
warrant for my arrest. . . . Seals were placed on every
article with lock and key, and I was conducted to the
house of detention of the Carmelites. Oh, what shudder-
ings came over me as I crossed that threshold, still wet
with blood l’
This prison, which witnessed some of the most ferocious
scenes of brutality that have ever been perpetrated on the
earth, was the theatre of the massacres of the early part of
September, 1793, in which upwards of seven thousand
persons, most of them men and women of distinction,
character, and virtue, were deliberately slaughtered by a
Jacobin mob. Josephine herself was confined in the
apartment where the priests had been incarcerated, several
hundreds of whom had been stabbed in the chapel of the
convent, or had their brains dashed out before its altars.
Few who once crossed the fatal threshold where Josephine
was now confined ever returned. She had confided her
sleeping children to the protection of Providence, then the
only hope of the patriot or the Christian remaining in
France, and had left them sleeping when she was dragged
away to prison. Eugene and Hortense, those innocent and
beautiful children, awoke from their slumbers the next
morning worse than orphans, in the vast solitude of that
agitated and bleeding city. They embraced each other
and wept, when they found their mother gone ; and, with
a discretion far beyond their years, determined to com-


NOTE TO HER CHILDREN. 219
municate at once the sad intelligence to their aunt, who
lived at Versailles, some fifteen miles from Paris. - -
. . XV. .
During the period of her imprisonment, in consequence,
it is supposed, of the amiability and loveliness which
Josephine invariably displayed, the severities of her treat-
ment were so far softened that she was allowed the liberty,
conceded to few, of corresponding with her family. She
says, in one of her notes to her children, who had been
removed to Fontainbleau, “Your letters, though of the
same date, reached me at an interval of three days from
each other. They are sweet little notes, my dear babes,
for they truthfully tell how much you love me, and are so
well composed that, if your aunt had not assured me she
had given you no help in writing them, I think I should
have recognised the hand of the Fairy. But if she did
not write your little letters, she informed me of your
excellent behaviour; and in your notes I discover new
proofs of her goodness and amiable disposition. Your
father will be as much delighted as I am. You act nobly
thus to give us cause for consolation, while wicked men
persecute us. They will be punished, and pass away;
but you, my good children, will enjoy the recompense in
your affectionate hearts which you merit, and you will
yet witness our happiness. Now go and put yourselves
one on each side of the benevolent ‘Fairy, and kiss her
for your father and me. Continue to be good that we
may love you better and better.” . .
. •. - XVI, -->
. . At length, when Josephine became especially alarmed,
lest her husband should be immediately sacrificed to the
ferocity of Robespierre's reign, she addressed a letter to
Citizen Prosper Sigas, the new Minister of War, who was

220 THE EMPRESS Joseph.INE.
to prepare the report to be presented to the Committee
of General Safety, in regard to her husband. She says,
“I give thanks to Heaven that you are to be my judge,
for if I had had the choice it would have fallen on you.
. . . I, too, have become one of those whose mis-
fortunes you have endeavoured to mitigate; and I unite
my gratitude with that of the many desolate beings whom
you have laboured to make forgetful of their calamities.
Nor are you ignorant that my sorrows increase in bitter-
ness every day while my husband remains in prison with-
out a trial. He no longer asks his liberty—he only de-
mands that he may be tried. A brave soldier has a right
to this, when accused of a crime which compromises his
honour. Alexander de Beauharnais a conspirator !—
One of the founders of liberty attempting its overthrow !
You, citizen, have never believed this accusation. Let
not his judges any longer give credit to the imputation.
. . . I speak of myself only to enable you to appre-
ciate the injustice done to Alexander, Forget the per-
secuted mother and her dispersed children, to think only
of the father and husband, or rather of the soldier and
the citizen, who is worthy of recovering his honour and
liberty.” ; : . . . - w
. . . xVII. ". . .
Josephine's application was so far successful that her
husband was brought to the office of the Committee of
General Safety, and arrangements had been made by
which she could there meet him. She was waiting in an
ante-room, ready to be summoned before the committee,
Ignorant of the attempts which her friends were making
for their release, and trembling with apprehension at
every step heard in the adjoining apartments, she was
sitting alone in her grief, when the door opened, and
Beauharnais entered. They rushed into each other's
arms, and, in the touching language of Josephine, they


BEAUHARNATS SENTENCED. 221
enjoyed “moments of felicity which softened, may almost
obliterated, a whole year of misery. Alexander wept
with joy when he once more beheld me; but as we were
soon to be separated, he became calm and collected. He
embraced me more like a friend than a husband, and
recommended our children to my care. Such tranquillity
becomes innocence like his. How I grieve that the com-
mittee did not see him Could they have resisted such
magnanimous virtue tº . . -
XVIII, . w
But the long imprisonment of Beauharnais was quickly
to find a sad and tragic termination. Soon after the
interview of which we have spoken, without a hearing,
without a trial, sentence of death was pronounced on
him (July 27, 1794), and the next morning his head fell
from the block of the guillotine. He was one of the last
victims of the Reign of Terror; for only two days later
Robespierre himself fell. Had the heroic Beauharnais
lived forty-eight hours longer, Josephine would probably
have been in later years known only as the wife of a
Marshal of France. While the bitterest tears of an
affectionate wife were still falling over her murdered hus-
band, Josephine, who had been sent to her prison again,
where she was confined with a large number of others of
her sex, was always in sadness and gloom, but with noble
resolution preparing to meet her own fate. The next
morning, July 27, that death-cart which had borne such
vast numbers to the place of execution had been ordered
to drive to the door of Josephine's prison : but Heaven
itself had, in the meantime, put an end to the Reign of
Terror by the bolt of vengeance which ended the
butcheries with the life of Robespierre. This fiend of the
French Revolution had fallen on the evening of the 26th.
As a fitting tribute to this generous and heroic man, and
one of the noblest victims of the Reign of Terror, we


222 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
must find space for the last letter of the Vicomte de Beau-
harnais to his wife, - .
- - XIX.
“Night of the 6-7th Thermidor,
. Year 2 (24-25th July, 1794), Conciergerie.
“Yet some moments to tenderness, to tears, and to re-
gret—then wholly to the glory of my fate, to the grand
thoughts of immortality. When you receive this letter,
my Josephine, your husband will have long ceased to live
here; but, in the bosom of his God, he will have begun to
enjoy a real existence. Thou seest, then, that there is, in-
deed, no cause for mourning on his account—it is over
the wicked, the insensate men who survive him, that
tears are to be shed; for they inflict and are incapable of
repairing the evil. But let us not sully with their guilty
image these last moments. I would, on the contrary,
adorn them by the thought that, having been united to
a charming woman, I might have beheld the years passed
with her glide away without the slightest cloud, had not
wrongs of which I became sensible only when too late
troubled our union. This reflection wrings tears from
me. Thy generous soul pardoned the moment that suffer-
ing overtook me; and I ought to recompense thee for
such kindness by enjoying without recalling it to thy re-
membrance, since I must thus bring back the recollection
of my errors and thy sorrows. What thanks do I owe to
Providence, who will bless thee! ? .
“Now Heaven disposes of me before my time; and
even this is one of its mercies. Can the good man live
without grief, when he sees the world a prey to the
wicked! I should think myself happy, therefore, in being
removed from their power, did I not feel that I abandon
to them beings so valued and beloved. If, however, the
thoughts of the dying be presentiments, I experience one
in the recesses of my heart, which assures me that these


BEAUHARNAIs LAST LETTER. 223
horrible butcheries are soon to be suspended—that to the
victims are to succeed their executioners—that the arts
and sciences, the true prosperity of states, shall flourish
again in France, that wise and equitable laws will reign
after these cruel sacrifices, and that you will obtain that
happiness of which you were always worthy, and which
to the present time has fled from you. Our children will
contribute to your felicity; they will discharge their
father's debt.
“I resume these incoherent and almost illegible lines,
which my jailors had interrupted.
“I have just undergone a cruel formality, which, under
any other circumstances, they should have forced me to
endure only by depriving me of life. But why strive
against necessity? Reason requires that we do all for
the best. My hair has been cut off. I have contrived
to purchase back a portion of it, in order to bequeath to
my wife and to my children undeniable evidence, pledges
of my last recollections. I feel that at this thought my
heart is breaking and tears bedev the paper. Farewell,
all that I love I Love each other, speak of me, and never
forget that the glory of dying the victim of tyrants, the
martyr of freedom, ennobles a scaffold.” . . . . . . ;

XX.
A single word on the immediate cause of the downfall
of Robespierre. M. Tallien, subsequently one of the
Directory of France, who cherished a devoted passion for
Madame de Fontenoy, had held many interviews with this
accomplished and graceful woman, through the guarded
casements of her Carmelite prison; and seventy of her
fellow-inmates had, on the day after the death of Beau-
harnais, been informed that on the next morning they
would be borne to the place of execution. She and
Josephine had but one hope of escape, which was to warn
224 THE EMPRESS JoSEPHINE,
M. Tallien, during his evening visit, by some sign that:
would not be observed by others, of their terrible position;
and they went to the t carelessly and sadly, as if
to gaze in peace for the last time on the pure heaven, and
breathe its fresh air. At last M. Tallien appeared under
the walls, and Madame de Fontenoy threw from the prison-
bars a cabbage-stalk, in which was concealed a piece of
paper containing these words, “My trial is decided, the
result is certain. If you love me, as you say, urge every
means to save France and me.” § 3.
- XXI. . .
Tallien snatched the scrap, read it with agitation, and
instantly joined some of his friends, when he pledged him-
self to go to the Convention and publicly accuse the tyrant
Robespierre. This detestable villain had not a friend in
all France; and standing as he did upon the verge of ruin,
it required but a single resolute man to brave him face to
face in the Convention, and he would be hurled to the
abyss. As soon as the session opened, St. Just, who fore-
saw the downfall of his master, took the Tribune to save
him. While Tallien was dragging him from the place, he
screamed, “I lift the veil!” “And I,” said Tallien, with
a shout of desperation, “rend it asunder " The announce-
ment fell upon the excited Assembly like a peal of thunder;
and in one of those wild appeals which that Convention so
often witnessed, burning with the intensest satire, and
charged with electric eloquence, he heaped upon the head
of the trembling Robespierre the whole catalogue of his
crimes, Our readers are all familiar with the result,
Robespierre was himself the final victim of his own Reign
of Terror, 3. . . .
XXII,
Josephine has herself given, in the simplest language,
a most interesting account of the manner in which the



yrant was communicated to that group of
g day. he says—“ Madame d'Arguillon, pros-
ith the thought of approaching death, so abruptly
icated, I drew toward the window, which I opened
to admit the fresh air. I saw a woman of the lower class
make signs to us from below, which we coul 33 .
stant . Her joy was extreme when she saw that we
at length perfectly understood her. With great eagerness
she made the sign of cutting the throat, and began dancing
and shouting. This strange pantomime stirred in our
hearts a feeling that cannot be described, since we did not
dare to hope that by these gestures she was intimating the
h of Robespierre. At this very moment, while we
were trembling between hope and despair, aloudnoise was
heard in the corridor, and the terrible voice of the turnkey,
who, in kicking his dog, cried, “Out with you, brute of a
Robespierre !' This coarse but glorious language echoed
the emancipation of France; and, a few minutes after, our
companions in misfortune burst into the apartment, to give
us the details of that grand event. It was the ninth
sta.
††
omen, who were waiting their execution on the
Thermidor—the anniversary of the prophesy which had w
foretold my elevation. My flock-bed was restored to me,
and on this couch I passed the most delightful night of my
life. I fell asleep after saying to my companions, ‘You
see I am not guillotined yet, and I shall live to become
Queen of France.’” º
XXIII.
In our sketch of Napoleon we have already traced the
progress of events by which, through the favour of Barras,
the aspiring officer who had conducted himself so well at .
Toulon was charged with the important commission of
commanding the troops at the time of the rising of the
Sections against the authority of the Convention. A
fortunate combination of circumstances, for which Napo-
. Qº





























226 THE EMPRESS Joseph.INE,
leon was indebted partly to his gallantry and skill at
Toulon, which gained for him the respect and confidence
of Barras, and partly to the interest M. Tallien felt r
him after his marriage with Madame de Fontenoy, the inti-
mate friend of Josephine, and her companion in the prison
of the Carmelites, gave him the brilliant opportunity,
which he so readily embraced, of asserting the supremacy
of law and order in Paris on the 13th Vendemaire. The
lling of the Sections was followed by the restoration
of complete tranquillity, and the establishment of a new
Constitution, the execution of the laws being confided to º
. a Directory of five persons, of whom Barras was the chief
The demand which young Eugene had made on General
Bonaparte for the sword of his father resulted in an
intimacy between him and Josephine, which soon ended
in marriage, and under circumstances which Josephine
has herself related, in the following letter to a friend,
*::::::::::::::: . xxiv. º
“MY DEAR FRIEND,--I am urged to marry again: my
friends counsel the measure, my aunt almost lays her
injunctions upon me to the same effect, and my children
intreat my compliance. Why are you not here to give
me your advice in this important conjuncture—to per-
suade me that I ought to consent to a union which must
put an end to the irksomeness of my present position?
Your friendship, in which I have already experienced so |
much to praise, would render you clear-sighted for my
interests, and I should decide without hesitation as soon
as you had spoken. You have met General Bonaparte in
my house. Well, he it is who would supply a father's
place to the orphans of Alexander de Beauharnais, and
a husband's to his widow. .
* * Do you love him? you will ask. Not exactly.
‘You, then, dislike him? Not quite so bad; but I find |













re convenient to follow the will of
§ General's courage—the his
ormation, for on all subjects he talks equally well–
the quickness of his judgment, which enables him to
of pronouncing,
* Being now past the heyday of youth, can I hope long
preserve that ardour of attachment which, in the Ge-
should cease to love me, will he not reproach me with
§ cause which arrests he consent I am often on the point
what he will have sacrificed for my sake he not
regret a more brilliant marriage which he might
contracted? What shall I then reply 7–
shall weep. ‘Excellent resourceſ' you will s
wens ! I know that all this can serve no end; but
ever been thus; tears are the only resource left
hen this poor heart, so easily chilled, has suffered.
Write quickly, and do not fear to scold me, should you




























228 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
judge that I am wrong. You know that whatever comes
from your pen will be taken in good part. --- .
“Barras gives assurance that if I marry the General
he will so contrive as to have him appointed to the com-
mand of the army of Italy. Yesterday, Bonaparte, speak-
ing of this favour, which already excites murmuring
among his fellow-soldiers, though it be as yet only a pro-
mise, said to me, ‘Think they, then, I have need of their
protection to arrive at power Egregious mistake They
will all be but too happy one day should I condescend to
grant them mine. My Sword is by my side, and with it I
will go far.”
“What Say you to this security of success!—is it not a
proof of confidence springing from an excess of vanity ?
A general of brigade protect the heads of Government —
that, truly, is an event highly probable ! Iknow not how
it is, but sometimes this waywardness gains upon me to
such a degree that almost I believe possible whatever this
singular man may take it in his head to attempt ; and, with
his imagination, who can calculate what he will not un-
dertake # -
“Here we all regret you, and console ourselves for your
prolonged absence only by thinking of you every minute,
and by endeavouring to follow you step by step through
the beautiful country you are now traversing. Were I
sure of meeting you in Italy, I would get married to-mor-
row, upon condition of following the General; but we
might, perhaps, cross each other on the route ; thus I deem
it more prudent to wait for your reply before taking
my determination. Speed, then, your answer—and your
return still more. -
“Madame Tallien gives me in commission to tell you
that she loves you tenderly. She is always beautiful and
good—employing her immense influence only to obtain
pardon for the unfortunate who address themselves to her,


JOSEPHINE’s LETTER ABOUT NAPOLEON. 229
and adding to her acquiescence an air of satisfaction which
gives her the appearance of being the person obliged. Her
friendship for me is ingenuous and affectionate. I assure
you that the love I bear towards her resembles my affec-
tion for you. This will give you an idea of the attach-
ment I feel for her. Hortense becomes more and more
amiable; her charming figure developes itself, and I
should have fitting occasions, if so inclined, to make
troublesome reflections upon villanous Time, which
merely adorns one at the expense of another Hap-
pily, I have got quite a different crotchet in my head at
present, and skip all dismals, in order to occupy my
thoughts solely with a future which promises to be happy,
since we shall soon be re-united never again to be sepa-
rated. Were it not for this marriage, which puts me out,
I should, despite of all, be quite gay; but while it remains
to be disposed of I shall torment myself; once concluded,
come what may, I shall be resigned. I am habituated to
suffering ; and if destined to fresh Sorrows, I think I could
endure them provided my children, my aunt, and you were
spared me. We have agreed to cut short the conclusions
of our letters—so adieu, my friend.”

XXV.
From this truthful and interesting account it will be
perceived that Josephine brought to her husband as a
dower “the magnificent gem,” as Napoleon afterwards
called it, of the command of the army of Italy. Although
almost every life that has been written either of Josephine
or Napoleon has been crowded with the correspondence
purporting to have passed between them, yet thorough
scrutiny has demonstrated most of these letters, as they
have been publicly printed, to be entitled to but feeble
claims to authenticity. The following, however, is an
exact transcript of a letter written by Napoleon to
230 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
Josephine, and afterwards copied for a friend by her
own hand. &
MY BELOVED FRIEND,-My first laurel is due to my country; my
second shall be yours. While pressing Alvinzi, I thought of France ;
when he was beaten, I thought of you. Your son will send you a scarf
surrendered to him by Colonel Morback, whom he took prisoner with
his own hand. You see, madam, that our Eugene is worthy of his
father. Do not deem me altogether undeserving of having succeeded
to that brave and unfortunate general, under whom I should have felt
honoured to have learned to conquer. I embrace you. .” :
- NAPOLEON.
XXVI.
When the victories of Napoleon's first campaign had
been consummated by the conquest of the capital of
Lombardy, Josephine joined her husband, and now con-
stituted the centre of attraction in the brilliant circles
that thronged the magnificent halls of the Palace of
Montibello. Napoleon had left Paris so soon after his
marriage that scarcely a day had been devoted at that
joyous period to the festivities which ought to crown so
happy all occasion; but their honeymoon was to be passed
in the most beautiful part of the world—in the most
charming and elegant of all the capitals of Italy, and on
the waters and along the shores of Lake Como and Lake
Maggiore. These classic scenes have been embellished by
the genius of ages. Como particularly had so completely
won the affections of Pliny, that he built a beautiful villa
on its eastern side for his summer-house. These lakes
were visited by Cicero, and consecrated by the muse of
Virgil; and from that period, whatever there is that is
grand and beautiful in the castellated architecture of the
Middle Ages, or the historic associations of heroic and
stirring scenes, has all been lavished to make it the gem
of the garden of the world. From the bosom of Lake
Maggiore rises the magic little island called Isola Bella.
One of the ancient and most opulent of the Lombard
JOSEPHINE IN ITALY. 231
families had, several centuries ago, chosen this spot for
their summer-retreat, and vast treasures had been lavished
in the adornment of this island with hanging gardens and
beautiful terraces—with every tree and shrub and flower
that could be gathered from all quarters of the earth ; and
slowly from year to year had risen a lofty and magnificent
pile, embellished and enriched with countless works of art
and taste, until Isola Bella has become the impersonation
throughout Europe of splendour and beauty. It was
under these blue and far-off skies, and on the bosom of
these crystal waters, surrounded by the wildest Alpine
scenery, all bathed in the genial and everlasting sunshine
of the Italian clime, that Josephine, with her brilliant
train of friends, ladies, courtiers, scholars, and men of
fame, at last found a few weeks of repose, enlivened by
everything in the form of luxury and splendour which
wealth could purchase or fancy invent.
YXVII.
There was nothing at this period of Josephine's life
wanting to complete her happiness, unless, indeed, it may
have been the apprehension she sometimes expressed of
the insecurity which must attend so sudden and brilliant
an elevation; and in that period when so many terrific
convulsions had been witnessed, and when nothing was so
dear to the heart as repose, it is not strange that Josephine
was awed by the meteor flight of the young conqueror of
Italy into the very empyrean of fame. Her son Eugene,
although but seventeen years old, had rode by the side of
Napoleon as one of his aids through the heat of his bat-
tles, breathing the air of victory. Inheriting, too, as he
did, the Souvenirs of the brilliant achievements of his
father, and with the very Hannibal of war as his model
on the field, Josephine herself says that she even trembled
when Eugene came from the reviews of the serried bat-

232 TEIE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
talions of the army of Italy into her presence. He came
like the young God of War, all palpitating from the
battle-field. And yet it would be hard to believe that so
fond a mother as Josephine, one whose happiness was so
entirely dependent upon the blandishments of social life
and scenes of domestic affection, should not have looked
with some complacency upon the beautiful form and
radiant face of the future Viceroy of Italy, as this young
Achilles came in from the “war of the Greeks.”
XXVIII.
Many of the books which preserve records of these
times, and their principal actors, depict in the liveliest
manner the brilliant scenes that were witnessed in the
drawing-rooms, in the cortèges, the fetes, and festivities
which celebrated the triumphs of Napoleon and greeted
the arrival of Josephine in Italy. But none of the ac-
counts we have read do any justice to the enthusiasm
with which we have often heard these same scenes
described by many persons still living, who participated
in them. Society in Italy has for ages been graced by
every refinement, and the cultivation of elegant manners;
pure taste and intellectual conversation have been studied
and cultivated as one of the beautiful arts, worthy of the
attention and even the ambition of the noblest, the most
powerful, and the most gifted of men. In the school of
Italian manners, as in their capitals of art during its
most florid period, the simplicity and the beauty of nature
were considered the highest of ideal standards. Hence
the enthusiastic admiration with which Josephine was
regarded by the polished Italians. The refined grace of
her manners, the touching simplicity of her conversation
and address, the affability and grace of every word and
movement, and that superb repose which can come only
from unconscious movement, or be reached at last as a

ACCOMPANIES NAPOLEON TO Toulon. 233
triumph of art, made her the model of courtly elegance
and palatial refinement. In Italy, perhaps, still more
strikingly was the significance of Napoleon's remark illus-
trated, when he said that he was more indebted to the
beauty, the grace, the influence, the virtues, and the good
sense of Josephine for his own elevation to power and
success in life than to any other human being,
|XXIX.
Although on his return from Italy every brain seemed to
have grown dizzy with Napoleon's conquests, he himself
acted as though nothing had happened. He again took
up his unostentatious abode in the small house in the Rue
Chautereine. It was, indeed, already distinguished; for,
before his arrival, the Government had, in compliment to
him, named the street where he had lived before he left
Rue de la Victoire. But that humble dwelling was now
frequented by the most brilliant society of Paris, and
Josephine illuminated it by her ineffable charms. But the
mission of Josephine was not only to embellish the career
of her husband—she put forth a high and powerful
agency in disarming foes and winning friends for the new
dynasty.
. . |XXX.
When Napoleon left Paris for the expedition to Egypt,
Josephine accompanied him to the sea-shore, and remained
at Toulon until he sailed. It was her earnest desire to
accompany him on the voyage ; and when he expostulated
with her on the dangers that would attend this expedition
in a distant, barbarous, and strange country, she seemed
to have acquired so romantic a confidence in the invin-
cibility of his arms, and the glory of his future destiny,
that she was almost deaf to the voice of reason. Her
husband at last persuaded her not to encounter the
fatigues and perils of the expedition, and she yielded to
THE EMPRESS Joseph INE
nis ersuasions only on condition that she migh º
allowed to join him in Egypt after she had received news
of his successful landing. When the vast armament had
miles with its spotless sails, she watched its progress º
and kept her eye steadily fixed on the towering cloud of
canvass that rose over the dark hull of the Orient, which
. bore her husband and her son, until the fading speck had .
grown dim through her tears, and sank in the bosom of
the ocean. With a feeling of solitude more lonely than
where her physicians trusted that she might recover com-
pletely the vital vigour of her youth, now somewhat im-
paired by the cares, excitements, and fatigues of her
her needle, in this new retreat, conversing with several
ladies who accompanied her, one of them, who had gone to
got under way, and was whitening the ocean for many
from the balcony of a palace which overlooked the sea,
§ she ever suffered in the days of her obscurity, Josephine º
left the sea-side to visit the mineral waters of Plombières,
situation. As she was sitting one morning at work with
the balcony, called them all to look at a very beautiful
lap-dog that was passing below. They all rushed together
with the joyousness of youthful hilarity; the balcony
gave way, and they were all precipitated below, Jose-
phine was severely hurt; she suffered a fracture of the
thigh-bone, from which she did not recover
months. . º
Hortense, who had now reached her fifteenth year, had
been some time a pupil at the celebrated school of Madame
Barras, had recovered a portion of her husband's proper º
when she determined on purchasing a small estate near
Campan. On her return to Plombières, Josephine sent
for her daughter to enliven her solitude, and devoted
herself more earnestly than ever to her education. She
remained there until her mother, through the aid of




















ublic journals. Josephine, however, carried
d purchased the Villa Malmaison, a por-
domains, for which she paid with
noney 160,000 francs. She immediately began
in her new home, as far as her means would allow,
every comfort and elegance. On Napoleon's return,
made it his own favourite retreat ; and from that
the most lavish embellishments, statues and reli
ind gems of modern art, from every p
phine every person of consequence and every aspiring
man in the Republic. º
and the rising fame of Bonaparte clustered round Jose-
xxxii.
descriptio of Malmaison is given b the
ison is now like a lady stripped of all her.
ven of her vestments, I shall endeavou.









































236 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
to recal her to the memory of those who, like me, were of
her acquaintance while she was still herself.
“The park was enchanting, notwithstanding its close
proximity to the barren mountain on the left. The
river, though running far below, imparted strength and
luxuriance to its vegetation, and nothing could be greener,
more fresh, or umbrageous, than the field from which it
was separated only by a ha-ha, and that part of the park
itself which is bounded by the road. The extent of the
park did not exceed a hundred acres; and Bonaparte, on
his return from Egypt, endeavoured to persuade Made-
moiselle Julien, a rich old maid of the village of Ruel,
as an act of good neighbourhood, to sell him, at her own
price, an adjoining garden, or small park, by which addi-
tion Malmaison would have been placed on so respectable
a footing that he need no longer have blushed to compare
it with the magnificent estate of his brother Joseph, The
First Consul had a small private garden separated only by
a bridge from his private cabinet. It was here that he
took the air, when labour rendered moderate exercise
necessary to him ; for at that time, and for two years
succeeding, he allowed himself no repose but what nature
imperatively required. The bridge was covered in and
arranged like a little tent. Here his table was carried, and
he would employ himself with state papers, saying that he
felt his ideas become more elevated and expansive in the
air than when seated beside a stove and shut out from
communication with the sky. Yet he could not endure
the smallest degree of cold; had fires lighted in July, and
wondered that others did not suffer like himself from the
first breath of a north wind.
“Our life at Malmaison, at the time of my marriage,
resembled that usually led when much company is assem-
bled together at a château in the country. Our apart-
ments consisted of a chamber, a boudoir, and a room for

LIFE AT MALMAISON, . 237
the chambermaid, all very simply furnished. That occu-
pied by Mademoiselle Hortense differed from the others
only by a folding-door ; and, this apartment was not
assigned her till after her marriage. All opened on a long
and very narrow paved corridor, looking to the court.
“We chose our own hour of rising; till breakfast our
time was at our own disposal. At eleven the ladies all
met for breakfast in a small low saloon of the right wing,
opening to the court ; but, as in Paris, gentlemen were
never admitted to the party, unless, occasionally, Joseph,
Louis, or one of the family. Breakfast was followed by
conversation, or the reading of the journals; and some
one always arrived from Paris to have an audience; for
already Madame Bonaparte gave audiences, contrary to
the express orders of the First Consul, and patronised
petitions, though his anger at her interference had already
caused her abundance of tears; but when a beautiful pearl
necklace or bracelet of rubies was offered, through the
hands of Bourienne, or of any other friend, the elegance
of a present so wholly unconnected with the matters in
hand suppressed all curious speculations into the nature
of the mine which produced it.
“The First Consul was never visible till dinner-time.
At five or six in the morning he descended to his cabinet,
and was there occupied with Bourienne, or with the
Ministers, Generals, and Counsellors of State, till the
dinner-hour of six, when the party was generally joined
by some invited guests. All the suite of the First Consul
were at this time enlarging his household by marriage.”
XXXIII.
Malmaison was at this time really the court of France ;
and it is delightful to see how beneficent was the influence
Josephine now put forth upon the destinies of her country,
and in relieving those who had suffered in the storms of

238 THE EMPRESS Joseph INE. *
the Revolution, or whose fortunes had been laid waste by
the injustice and cruelty of the Reign of Terror. The
ascendancy of Josephine in the society of Paris, and the
important political position she was taking, with the in-
fluence she was known to sway over the mind of her
husband, aroused the envy of nearly all his female rela-
tives, and a malignant scheme of mischief was invented,
which was intended to estrange Napoleon's heart from his
wife, and bring about a divorce between them. Letters
were written to the conqueror in Egypt to consummate
the plan; but for a considerable time they had no influence
over his mind. An Italian commentator on Shakspeare,
however, well says that “No man is great enough not to
be an Othello, if he has an Iago at his elbow.” By every
arrival from France Napoleon received new confirmations
of the scandalous reports that were being spread in regard
to the conduct of Josephine, till at last his great mind
embraced the delusion, and in the heat of jealousy he
wrote some of the bitterest and most cruel letters that
were ever sent to a confiding and virtuous wife. She
could not herself divine the cause of this strange infatua-
tion of her husband; for, during the first months after
his arrival in Egypt, his correspondence had breathed more
the romance of a lover than the style of a husband.
Resolute and brave in the consciousness of her own
innocence, she repelled these attacks upon her honour in
a series of letters which, if we could find place for them,
would be regarded as models of their kind, showing how
deep the poisoned arrow of slander can pierce the bosom
of innocence. -- .
XXXIV.
In one she says, “Can it be possible? Is the letter I
have just received indeed yours? I can hardly believe it,
lying as it does open before me by the side of those which
had preceded it, and to which your love imparted so


* LETTER TO HER HUSBAND. 239
ineffable a charm. My eyes cannot doubt, however, that
these pages which rend my heart are too surely yours.
But my soul refuses to admit that your heart ever dictated
these lines, which, to the transport of again hearing from
you, have oppressed me with the mortal grief I feel in
reading your displeasure, which afflicts me the more be-
cause the doing of it must have caused yourself so much
pain. I am utterly ignorant what I have done to create
an enemy so resolute to destroy my repose by ruining
your peace. .
“When I first knew you, still buried in the sorrow that
had overwhelmed me, I did not believe I could ever again
feel a sentiment approaching to love. The scenes of blood
I had witnessed, and whose victim I had been, pursued me
everywhere. Little did I imagine I could for an instant
fix your choice. Like all the world, I admired your genius
and talents: more infallibly than all others did I foresee
your approaching glory. But I was unmoved ; I loved
you only for the services you had rendered my country.
You should have left me to cherish this admiration, without
seeking to render it a passion by resorting to those means
which you, above all men, possess, if so soon after uniting
your destiny to mine you regret the happiness you alone
taught me to enjoy.
“Can you believe it is possible for me ever to forget
your care or your love—to be indifferent about one who
sweetens life by all that is transporting in passion? That
T can ever efface from my memory your kindness to Hor-
tense—your example and your counsel to Eugene O
my friend why not, instead of lending your ear to im-
postors, rather reduce them to silence by the recital of
your benefits to a woman whose character has never
incurred the stain of ingratitude : They know that I
loved you first because I was a mother. Since then,
admired as you have become throughout Europe, I have
you take only gives new splendour to the na
: ; and is this the moment they have seized to pers
console me as far as she can, Hortense employs
ittle arts to conceal all fears on your account and her
brother's, and to dissipate that sadness, to you so dubious,
which never leaves me. By the charm of her conversation
she contrives to call up a smile, and then in h
exclaims, ‘Dear mamma, they shall not kno
Cairoſ' In the graces of her person Hortense impr
daily; she dresses with taste, and certainly, without bei
nearly so beautiful as your sisters, she could hardly §
please even when they were present. As forme, I beguile
the time in writing to you, listening to your praises, or
reading the journals, whereIsee your name on every pag
“God knows when or where this letter will reach .
and may it restore to you the repose you never should
have lost, and give you an assurance that while I liv . ou
will be dear to me as on the day of our last separation.
Farewell, my only friend Confide in me, love me, and
receive a thousand tender caresses.”
xxxv.
But this touching letter did not reach Napoleon .
after his return to France. In the meantime Josephine,
when she could escape from the brilliant but tiresome
throng of her salons, fled to her beautiful gardens to brood
over her misfortunes and long for the return of her hus-
band. All communication between the French in Egypt
and their country was broken off, and for many months
no tidings was heard of the army or its commander.
Finally, on the 9th of November, 1799, during the height
of festivities, in a numerous and brilliant assembly at the



















































lot, said to him, “She will appear, and everyth
er your tranquillity.”
rgive? Never! Do you know who I am?
not sureof my resolution, I would tear my hea
gene, who had been Napoleon's constant co
led to the court-yard as the carriage drovei
his mother (who had been eighteen months separ
him) once more on his bosom. The trembling Jose
sustained by her son and daughter, mounted the sta
the little family-room where Napoleon was sittin
º Joseph, He turned a repulsive and freezing look
group, and said—“Madame, it is my wish tha
immediately to Malmaison.” The brave and gen
Eugene caught his falling mother in his arms, and dre
her silently from the apartment. Shortly after thei
steps were heard as they descended to leave the hous
midnight. Napoleon, whose ear at that moment vibrated
to every sound, started from his chair, strode violently
round the room, and thought—for he could not have
gotten—that for nearly a week Josephine had lived in he
carriage; and now the confiding, loving, and prostra
wife was being driven in darkness and gloom from her
home. He opened the door, and, calling to Eugene, told
him he had better return for the night. He had not the
magnanimity to mention the name of his wife; but Eugene
understood him. The sad group again returned to the
dwelling, and Josephine threw herself on her bed an
. wept herself to sleep.
xxxviii.
For two days no























































Egypt;
en
window,
he drapery. After a moment's hesitation he
his wife, and in a low voice uttered the name,
d, and, seeing whi
wife, and loved her as he never had, and
X--- oman till the last da of § fe. A
§ re was a day o
[apoleon; and to any other man


244 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
test would follow on the coming day; and when they
parted in the morning, Josephine was filled with the most
painful apprehensions. Hour after hour she was looking
from the windows for the arrival of the messengers, but
none came. She started at the sound of every horse's
foot on the pavement, and the roll of every carriage
through the streets, but no tidings came ; and at last she
threw herself at midnight in tears upon her bed. Towards
daybreak, however, the First Consul entered her apart-
ments, and Josephine rushed to his embrace. He briefly
related to her the occurrences of the day, and then, lying
down for a half-hour's sleep on a sofa, said, “Good night,
Josephine ! To-morrow you shall sleep in the palace of
the Luxembourg.”
“Who has been killed tº responded Josephine.
Napoleon, who was already half asleep, simply replied,
“Nobody but myself.”
XL. -
Napoleon redeemed his pledge; and the next night
Josephine, after receiving the congratulations of Paris,
slept in the Luxembourg. Two months later the First
Consul made another step in his progress to the imperial
dignity, by taking possession of the royal palace of the
Tuileries. The occasion was distinguished by one of those
brilliant fétes with which the gay and elegant Parisians
mark the occurrences which concern the fortunes of their
nation, or add 6claſſ to popular movements. The Suite of
apartments appropriated to Josephine were those which
had been usually inhabited by the Queens of France—the
two large salons fronting the gardens. From this moment
the nightly receptions assumed all the dignity and splen-
dour which made the old noblesse so proud of the court
of St. Cloud. Twelve foreign ambassadors then resided
at the consular court, and all the most brilliant characters
of France moved in those scenes of gorgeous splendour.
%.
| THE CONSULATE–FIRST RECEPTION. 245
XLI.
“At the first public reception,” says Dr. Mimes (the
only authentic historian hitherto of the life of Josephine),
“Madame Bonaparte was announced, and entered, sup-
ported by M. Talleyrand, then Minister for Foreign
Affairs. In a scene where diamond and star, cordon and
plume, in more than usual profusion, thus caught radiance
and shade from lights that shone o'er fair women and
brave men, expectancy must have been high on the first
appearance of her who was to fill the prime station. A
momentary feeling of disappointment might have crossed
for an instant those minds who had looked for magnifi-
cence and state. Josephine was attired in the utmost
simplicity ; her hair, without decoration of any kind, and
merely retained by a plain comb decaille, fell in tresses
upon her neck in the most becoming negligence; a collar
of pearls, an unobtrusive ornament, but of great value,
harmonised with and completed this unpretending cos-
tume. We have the evidence of an eye-witness that a
spontaneous murmur followed Josephine's entrance; such
being the grace and dignity of her deportment that, with
all this absence of the external attributes of rank, a
stranger would at once have fixed upon the principal per-
Sonage in the splendid circle. Always accompanied as
she had entered, Madame Bonaparte made the tour of the
apartments, the members of the foreign diplomacy being
introduced first, in succession, by the Minister. When
the introductions had nearly concluded, the First Consul
entered without being announced, dressed in a plain
chasseur uniform, with a sash of tri-coloured silk. In
this simplicity both good taste and sound policy concurred.
The occasion was not a levee; the First Magistrate and
his wife merely received the congratulations of their fellow-
citizens of a free Republic. At this period Josephine had

246 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
completed, by some months, the thirty-sixth year of her
age, and she might have passed for even younger than
this. At a time of life when, as respects the charms of
mind and conversation, woman is most fascinating, she
still enjoyed those personal advantages which are thought
to belong exclusively to more youthful years. The sur-
passing taste displayed in the mysteries of her toilet were
doubtless not without its influence in prolonging the
empire of beauty; but nature had been originally boun-
tiful in no common degree. Josephine was rather above
than below the medium size, hers being exactly that per-
fection of stature which is neither too tall for the elegance
of feminine proportion, nor yet so diminutive as to detract
from dignity. Her person, in its individual forms, exhi-
bited faultless symmetry; and the whole frame, animated
by lightness and elasticity of mind, seemed like something
aerial in its perfectly graceful carriage. Her features
were small and finely modelled, the curves tending rather
to fullness, and the profile inclining to Grecian, but with-
out any statue-like coldness of outline.”
XLII.
But Josephine was as much delighted to escape from
the severe dignity of the Tuileries to the quiet seclusion
of Malmaison, as her husband was to fly from fawning
battalions of flattering place-seekers to the quiet conver-
sations and uninterrupted studies and investigations of
their charming country villa. About this time, Josephine
suffered continual alarm from the repeated attempts which
were made to assassinate her husband. Even the road
from Paris to Malmaison—a wild district leading through
the quarries of Nanterre—was infested with assassins
hired by the Bourbons and their allies to kill the First
Consul. Josephine never passed over it without despatch-
ing a body of men beforehand to clear the way. The

§
hº
JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON. 247

explosion of the infernal machine, which slightly wounded
Josephine, and made her nervously apprehensive of other
conspiracies, together with the openness of the outrage,
decided Napoleon on doing something which should strike
terror through the hearts of his enemies. He seized the
Duke d'Enghien, and had him killed in a ditch in the
Castle of Vincennes. Josephine put forth the most heroic
exertions to save his life, and in his fate, considered as an
individual, there was much to lament; but it fortunately
put an end to all schemes for the assassination of the
Chief Ruler of France, and ever after Josephine was
undisturbed by those painful apprehensions which gave
her so many unhappy hours. In the spring of 1800,
Napoleon left Malmaison for the second campaign in
Italy, and in less than two months had won there
astounding victories; and again, on the 2nd of July,
was greeted by Josephine and all Paris in the halls of
the Tuileries. She had passed most of the interval in
planning and executing new and picturesque effects in
the extended and magical grounds of Malmaison ; and as
every day gave the last finish to some new touch or vista
of beauty, she exclaimed, with a radiant face, “This, too,
shall welcome my Cid—when Achilles comes home from
the wars ” Within these grounds were preserved rare
and curious beasts, birds, and monsters, that either Napo-
leon procured during his conquests, or that were sent to
him, in homage of his genius, by foreign princes. Dr.
Mimes says that one of Josephine's favourite amuse-
ments was playing billiards in the evening. “This beau-
tiful game she played with greater grace than skill,
though more than a match for Napoleon.”
XLIII.
The Hero of Marengo returned to Paris with new
laurels on his brow, and Josephine was prouder and
248 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
happier than ever. Dr. Mimes has made so picturesque
a drawing of their every-day life at this time that we
cannot forego the temptation of another extract. .
“The domestic felicity of the First Consul when at
Malmaison seemed to be complete. He had around him
only attached relatives or the most devoted servants, and
his amusements were of the simplest kind. Bourienne
has described their family theatricals—a relaxation which
was at once conducted with the greatest decorum, and a
source of much innocent enjoyment both to Bonaparte
and to Josephine. Proud of the talents of her children,
and gratified by their power to contribute to his entertain-
ment for whose happiness she wished only to live, among
the distinguished performers in the Malmaison company
she had the satisfaction to see Eugene, Hortense, and her
two favourite protégées, the sisters Auguié, the elder of
whom afterward became the wife of Marshal Ney. Another
amusement may be described as still more peculiarly cha-
racteristic. This was the game of ‘prisoners, so well known
among schoolboys, when two parties run against each
other, seizing as captives such of their unfortunate oppo-
ments as happen to be caught within certain limits round
the respective stations. The members of the ordinary circle
at Malmaison were all young, active, and every one inclined
to enjoy life sans façon, while their Chief probably delighted
in a sport which in some measure brought back an image
of the grand game of war. Usually after dinner the party
was arranged. Bonaparte and Josephine, Eugene, Hor-
tense, Caroline Bonaparte, Rapp, Lauriston, Duroc, Isabey,
with Bourienne, and a few other confidential retainers,
divided into two camps, as they were termed ; and, when
nothing pressed, the sport often continued for hours. The
best runners were Eugene and his sister; but Bonaparte,
in the selection of partisans, always chose Josephine, never
suffering her to be in any camp but his own. When by

MARRIAGE OF HORTENSE WITH LOUIS, 249
chance she happened to be taken prisoner, he always
seemed uneasy till she was released, making all exertions
for that purpose, though a bad runner himself, often
coming down in mid career with a heavy fall on the grass.
TJp again, however, he started, but usually so convulsed
with laughter that he could not possibly move, and the
affair generally ended in his captivity. When placed in
durance, or when Josephine had been taken, he kept con-
stantly calling out to his party, “A rescue ! a rescue !
clapping his hands, shouting to encourage the runners,
and, in short, exhibiting all the ardour of a boy at play.
When we find the conqueror at Marengo, the restorer of
France, thus yielding to the kindly promptings of harm-
less mirth in the bosom of his family, we almost forget
his real character.” w
YLIV. *.
Few mothers ever doted so fondly on a child as did
Josephine on Hortense—few mothers have had so bril-
liant a child to dote on ; and no mother could have de-
oted herself with more untiring energy and persuasive
affection than she did to her education. In her brief
biography we can more appropriately speak on this point.
The marriage of Hortense with Napoleon's brother Louis,
which ended so unfortunately, Josephine was mainly in-
strumental in promoting ; and, if it does not sound too
harshly, we will say that the glitter of the coronet of
Holland she was thereby to win blinded the eyes of her
mother to the inevitable fruits of a union where there was
no affection on either side. But the nuptials took place
with the most imposing and brilliant ceremonies; and
until their final separation Josephine endeavoured to
inspire her daughter with kindlier and more gentle sen-
timents towards her husband than she herself was dis-
posed to entertain. But this whole matter will be treated
more in detail in another place. . %. . . . . . . . . . . . .”


THE EMPRESS Joseph INE.
hat his wife should attend him. She
all the French people, whatever may have be
itical prejudices or passio
onsular or imperial cortège passed, she was
rolonged and heartfelt welcomes. On one
tiquated personage, whose toi
apidations of time, was presented. He
the cabinet of Napoleon, where Josephine h
at that time to be sitting. Embarrassed by t
of the man before whom he stood, he could no
make known the object of his visit. With th
of Josephine, he at last made out to communicate
intelligence that he was the professor at Brient
had many years before enjoyed the signal honou
teaching Na oleon to write, “And a nice penm
wife, continued, “Ask that lady!" The poor pedag
was in great distress; but she replied that her h
letters were the most beautiful ever written;
whole thing ended by a stroke of penmanship
the pedagogue rich for life. Could some magic
wave over the living and the dead who owe
gratitude to the kind intervention of Josephine,
summon up an army as numerous as that whi
the Battle of Marengo. We
forgotten to say that Napoleon w
He even spelled badly; and in
thrusting his
letters were
looked upon some of Napoleon's epistles whic




























































rmed that they had been
ad always supposed they
s battles! Probably this
might have alle
ged in her own defence,
Josephine's time was spent in deciphering
had very naturally come to the con-
hat she as studying geography.
. Amiens was :atified, thousands of .
England rushed across the channel to
e charred ruins of monarchy, out of which
eimposing form of a great republic. Although
ad succeeded in making most of their
mbassado

252 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
commissioned by Madame my mother to attend you to
the Château of Malmaison; and I have preceded only
a few minutes the carriages destined for you and your
friends, as soon as you can resolve on leaving so many
charms as must detain you here. It will give me infinite
pleasure to act as your guide on the road.” The party
soon adjourned to the drawing-room, where the great
Talma recited some passages from “Othello” and “Mac-
beth,” in a good translation, if that be possible from
Shakspeare, in French, when the party entered the
carriages and drove off on the road to Malmaison,
XLVII.
Josephine had only to be natural to delight the world;
but when she received Mr. Fox—almost the only man in
the world Napoleon cared to court—a slight embarrass-
ment seemed to mark her manner, for she knew that the
fortunes of empires might vibrate with every step. If
anything could add a new charm to her manner, it was
this involuntary flattery of the genius of the British states-
Tºlāl).
The whole entertainment was characterised by a de-
gree of simplicity which constituted, perhaps, the most
perfect and happy compromise that ever was witnessed
between English formality and hauteur and French frivolity
and evanescence. Of course Napoleon was at the dinner-
table, and for the first time these two great men conversed
together. After the dinner came the gardens, and then
the parks, and then an evening bristling with wit and
blushing with beauty. When Fox left, he said to the
Duchess of Gordon, “I have been enchanted with the
elegance and grace of everything I have seen and heard.”
When Fox drove off, Napoleon, in a style characteristic
of himself, said, as he fixed his eye upon the ground for
half a minute, “Fox is a great man ſ”

THE PROSPECTED DIVORCE. 253
XLVIII.
Napoleon's appointment as Consul for life, with the
power of naming his successor, would have given more
force to the arguments which many of his friends brought
forward in favour of a divorce, had not a son been born,
at this period, to Louis and Hortense, who, in the event
of Napoleon and Josephine never having any children,
might be designated as his heir. It is certain, however,
that the Solicitude of his wife, when it had been once
awakened, was never to be fully allayed again and possi-
bly this might have had some influence with her in her
endeavours to persuade her husband to abandon all ideas
of a throne, and content himself with the honour, the
power, and the fame of the First Consul. It appears, also,
that she used whatever influence she possessed with her
husband in favour of the restoration of the Bourbons.
She succeeded in procuring for them many favours, in
mitigating the severity of many decisions of the tribunals,
in restoring to them confiscated estates, and thereby laid
a claim to their lasting gratitude. But the recipients of
these favours regarded them only as partial concessions of
what they were entitled to by the laws and usages of ages;
and it subsequently appeared that the most malignant and
unscrupulous of all the foes of Napoleon, Josephine, and
their house, turned out to be those same families which
were indebted to them for their lives and fortunes.
XLIX.
However gratifying the proclamation of the Empire
may have been to Napoleon, it is certain that this great
act was done with the hearty concurrence of the French
people. There was a universal desire in France that a
new and more powerful throne should be erected; and a
vast majority of the inhabitants felt that upon this throne


254. THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
should be seated the man who had spread such glory over
the French nation. Ages of oppression and corruption
had slowly been preparing the way for the great Revolu-
tion of 1789, and that Revolution was rather a revulsion
of the national feeling against the Bourbon dynasty than
a conversion of the people to a republican faith. Repub-
licanism, as we understand the term, with its simple forms
and secured constitutional guarantees which distinguish
the Republic of the United States, could not at that time
subsist in France. Such a Republic the last four years
have equally shown to be impossible there; and France is
now in very much such a state, with one of the Bona-
parte race at the head of the nation, as she was in 1803,
just before the proclamation of the Empire §
. L.
It may seem somewhat strange, but we doubt not it is
true, that Josephine not only had no desire to wear an
imperial crown, but she even contemplated her coronation
with the most painful apprehensions. In an affectionate
and touching letter, written about this time to her hus-
band, she does not disguise her sorrow and apprehension
in view of the approaching proclamation of the Empire.
“You have alarmed me,” she says, “by your ambitious
flight : restore my confidence by your return to modera-
tion.” With almost prophetic glance, she pierced the
future and foresaw the difficulties and dangers which
would attend an attempt to establish a new dynasty in
the midst of the old ones of Europe Her letter still
serves as a picture almost as graphic and truthful as his-
tory itself of the consequences of the great act Napoleon
was contemplating. But he endeavoured to calm the
apprehensions of his wife; and, with the degree of confi-
dence she then entertained of his ability to achieve every-
thing he undertook, he succeeded so far that Josephine



NAPOLEON's Policy of consolid ATION. 255
went calmly through the grand ceremony of the corona-
tion, which took place on the 18th of May, 1804. The
occasion was marked by a succession of the most brilliant
fetes that had probably ever been witnessed in Europe.
There seemed to be but one heart in France, and that was
beating with exultation at the glory of the Empire, and
breathing forth aspirations for the future welfare of the
new dynasty,
LI.
Most writers have been disposed to regard Napoleon's
anxiety to conciliate the ancienne noblesse to the wish of
Josephine, who seemed anxious that they should be re-
stored as far as possible to their ancient splendour.
Others have attributed this desire of Napoleon rather to
the promptings of his own ambition, and the gratification
of his pride, in having his new throne surrounded by the
satellites that shone around the throne of Louis ; but it
is more probable that all these, with many other motives,
dictated this policy. That Napoleon was anxious to con-
solidate his dynasty on the throne of France was appa-
rent to all, that, from the proclamation of the Empire,
it became the great object of his life to achieve it there
is no doubt. From the first moment, too, that he had taken
thereins of power into his own hands as a civil ruler, he had
put forth every exertion to allay the spirit of disaffection,
and unite all classes of Frenchmen in the great work of ad-
vancing the glory and power of the nation. We cannot,
however, but regard his attempt to restore the ancienne
noblesse to their dignity and honours as a capital mistake.
Every effort that he made to attach them to his court,
and win them over to his side, only weakened his position
and hastened his overthrow. The French Revolution was
a solemn and fearful, but an earnest and bloody procla-
mation of the divorce of the future from the past; and
the coronation of Napoleon himself only affixed the most
256 THE EMPRESS JosepmnB.
solemn seal to this deliberate act of the French nation.
With the past, which was blotted out, fell the Bourbon
throne; and with it went down for everthe ancienne noblesse,
The Revolution had done away with the feudal system;
but that system still lingered in hope, until Napoleon
assumed the civil power, when he barred it out of France
for ever. The ancient distinctions of caste, which had
for ages been intrenched in France, he swept away. A
great many people, of more fancy than judgment, have
dwelt with delight on the feudal system, particularly in
France, where it existed in its most splendid and im-
posing form. It crushed the people into the earth, and
they had no appeal from the oppression they suffered.
Napoleon established complete civil equality in several
most important particulars, and all the distinctions of the
Empire were thrown open to every man. º
When, therefore, he-an Emperor—an Emperor of the
people, and the founder of a dynasty of the people—
attempted to restore the ancienne noblesse, he attempted
an impossibility. It was an act of the greatest political
inconsistency, at war with the whole policy, and hostile
to the very existence, of his Empire. Every member of
the ancient aristocracy he admitted to his court—parti-
cularly Ladies of Honour, who surrounded Josephine—
hated, and in their very hearts despised, this mushroom
noblesse. However obsequious they may have shown
themselves in the presence of the imperial pair, they
loathed their position, and endured it only for the facilities
it gave them to intrigue for the ultimate restoration of
the Bourbons, or the pay they got for the service.
LII.
We might extend these observations, and show how
gross were the improprieties of conduct which many of
these ladies of the ancienne noblesse were guilty of; but

THE OLD AND NEW ARISTOCRACY. 257
Josephine gives a clue to it all in a single remark: “How
infinitely better satisfied I am with the dignified reserve
of Madame de Montmorency than with the eagerness of
others, who, while they adulate me here in the Tuileries
with the grossest flatteries, are always ready to talk of
Madame Bonaparte in certain salons of the Faubourg
St. Germaine.” A little incident related of Napoleon
shows how well he understood this state of things.
Entering one morning the drawing-room of the Empress,
where she was surrounded by the ladies of her court, he
held up a superb diamond aigrette of great value he had
just received as a present from the Sultan. There was a
general exclamation of admiration and delight, each one
declaring that it was the most beautiful bijou they had
ever seen. On this occasion, as on all others, the Baroness
de Montmorency preserved that true dignity which had
always characterised her manners at this new court. The
Emperor, who through life admired independent and
straightforward conduct, took the costly aigrette, and broke
it in two, and handing one half to the Empress, turned to
Madame de Montmorency, saying, “Permit me, Madame,
to request your acceptance of this small token of my
esteem.” Napoleon despised the sycophancy of these
members of the ancient nobility gathered around his
court, for he knew that, while they fawned, they would
have stabbed him had they dared, . .
LIII.
The Emperor exposed himself to a great deal of satire
and ridicule by the anxiety he displayed on all occasions
to restore the etiquette of the Bourbon court. He even
interested himself in the study of its details with as much
intensity as he had evel investigated a mathematical pro-
blem, and was very much Incensed if he observed the
slightest departure from the etiquette of the imperial court.
S ,
258 THE EMPRESS JoSEPHINE,
Huge folios were compiled, to serve as “Manuals of
Etiquette” and “Guides of Court;” and the highest
authorities inform us that the most talented and brilliant
women of France passed hours every day in the study of
their mortal pages. One historian says, “The number
of steps was counted; the positions of the arms, and the
curve of salutation, were described with the same rigorous
precision as the military exercises of the raw conscript.”
The acquisition of these arbitrary accomplishments was,
however, a far more serious thing in the provincial cities,
where the imperial court was always opened in full
etiquette, wherever the Emperor and the Empress were
passing in their progress on tours of pleasure.
On a certain occasion, when the court was to pass a
few days in one of the cities on the frontier of the Rhine,
all the circles of fashion were thrown into a fever of excite-
ment at the approaching presentations. “One of the
ladies to be presented wrote to a friend of hers at Paris
for instruction,” says Dr. Mimes, “and received the fol-
lowing: ‘You make three courtesies, one on entering the
Saloon, one in the middle, and a third a few paces further
on en pirouette / This last phrase proved a complete
mystery, and had nearly turned all respectable heads in
Cologne, the scene of expected operations. A consulta-
tion was called, the letter communicated, and deep de-
liberation ensued. Many of the ladies were old—en
pirouette /–very difficult ; some, of the German blood,
were tall—en pirouette /–very awkward ; some were
young—en pirouette /–might tumble—very bad that ;
Some were short—en pirouette /—looked squat, and they
drew themselves up ; in fine, all found the reverence en
pirouette to be a very questionable experiment. At
length a member of the divan proposed the alternative,
that since resigning the honour was not even to be thought
of, they should prepare, by exercise and practise, for duly

A QUESTION OF ETIQUETTE. 259
appearing in the court circular. No sooner said than
done ; the decision gave universal satisfaction. The com-
clave broke up ; and for the next fifteen days, in all the
drawing-rooms of the venerable city of Cologne, from
morning till night, the ladies were twirling away like so
many spinning-tops or dancing dervishes. Nothing was
talked of during the same space but these evolutions;
how many circumgyrations one could make and yet keep
her feet ; how many falls another had got, or how grace-
fully a third performed. Happily, on the evening when the
court did actually arrive, and consequently on that pre-
ceding the ceremonial which had given rise to all this ac-
tivity, the original propounder of the motion bethought
her of calling upon one of the Empress's ladies for still
more precise instructions. The redoubted pirouette was
now found to have been misunderstood, implying simply a
gentle inclination, in rising, towards the personages of
the court ; and Josephine had the satisfaction of being
amused by the recital in private, and thus escaped the
mortification of beholding her visitors of the morrow
transferred into so many rotatory machines.”
The same writer records another incident, which illus-
trates the noble nature of Josephine, and how little the
stately formalities and cold etiquette of the imperial
court chilled the geniality of her spirit.
LIV.
Josephine was always desirous of accompanying her hus-
band whenever he left Paris, and he gratified this desire
as often as possible; but on one occasion, after he had pro-
mised her she should go with him, he changed his purpose
on the arrival of a courier with important news, and gave
orders to have everything got ready for the departure at
one o'clock at night. He was just stepping into his car-
riage when Josephine, who had in spite of his precautions
260 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
learned that he was going, flew from her chamber, half-
dressed, ran down stairs, and cast herself into his arms.
The Emperor, like most other men, found it difficult to
resist such an appeal, and the tears of Josephine at last
prevailed. She would go, and yet Napoleon could not
wait one minute. He laid her down on the bottom of
the carriage and covered her with his travelling-pelisse,
and giving a hasty order about her clothes and attendants,
the carriage whirled away.
LW.
But although the restoration of all the etiquette of
the ancien regime, which comported so ill with the new-
ness and republican origin of the Emperor, subjected him
to the severest satire, he won the applause of the friends
of virtue everywhere by the high standard of morality he
exacted in the manners of the court. It is universally
conceded that in this respect he worked a complete revo-
lution. He invariably refused every application, from
whatever quarter it came, for unmarried ladies to be
attached to his court. Even Josephine herself was power-
less to infringe this invariable rule. The disorders and
sensualities of his predecessors on the throne of France
had been immeasurably gross and disgusting. Nothing
of this kind existed under the reign of Napoleon ; as a
natural consequence, the standard of morality was every-
where in French society elevated. This happy change
has been going on until the present time, when the
manners and morals of the French people entitle them to
the respect and admiration of the civilised world, although
it is quite possible that strenuous efforts in the same
direction might still meet with further progress,
LVI. . . .
But Josephine's tranquillity of mind did not long con-
tinue ; and discerning, as she did, with infallible accuracy,
FAILURE OF TALLEYRAND'S SCHEMES, 261
the feeling of the court, and understanding, as she did,
the intrigues continually going on to effect a divorce, she
once more began to prepare her mind for a second widow-
hood during the life of her husband. Every reader of her
memoirs will be impressed more deeply perhaps by the
magnitude of her sorrows than the splendour of her good
fortune. On the occasion of the grand reception of the
Princess of Germany, the Empress saw for the first time
the young Princess of Baden, whom Talleyrand was en-
deavouring to persuade Napoleon to choose for his second
wife; he had often represented her as the most beautiful
and accomplished princess of Europe. When the two
ladies met, the contrast was so broad between the plain
and almost rude German girl and her imperial rival that
even Talleyrand himself saw that the case was hopeless,
and from that time dropped the subject altogether. So
completely was the diplomatic intriguer foiled in this at-
tempt, that the hereditary Prince of Baden afterwards
sued for and married Stéphanie Beauharnais, Josephine's
own niece. From time to time, these schemes for a divorce
were renewed and prosecuted with fresh ardour, and just
as often they failed. Josephine perhaps became persuaded
that her husband did not seriously entertain them ; and,
long after the divorce had finally taken place, she said
that Napoleon would never have dreamed of it had it not
been pressed on him so constantly by others. The im-
posing ceremony of the coronation of the Emperor by
Pius VII. for awhile annihilated the hopes of Josephine's
enemies and re-assured herself. In the memoir of Cardi-
nal Fesch, we have spoken of the coronation, and also of
the fact that the Pope had refused to celebrate it until
Napoleon and his wife, who had only been joined by a
civil process, had first been married with all the solemni-
ties and sacraments of the Catholic Church. The inter-
course of the Empress and the Pope, during his five
262 THE EMPRESS Joseph INE.
months' residence in Paris, was marked by every kind of
courtesy and affectionate regard. Everything which the
most refined taste and the purest veneration for virtue
and official dignity could dictate on the part of Josephine
was done. As long as these two personages lived, their
intercourse was maintained by correspondence; and their
letters are among the most interesting and beautiful which
have ever passed between illustrious sovereigns.
LVII.
We can devote but a single paragraph to the part
Josephine sustained on the magnificent day of the
coronation. A reliable authority, which we draw from,
thus minutely describes the toilet of the Empress.
“The body-drapery of the Empress was of white satin,
beautifully embroidered with gold, and on the breast orna-
mented with diamonds. The mantle was of crimson velvet,
lined with white satin and ermine, studded with golden
bees, and confined by an aigrette of diamonds. The
coronation jewels consisted of a crown, a diadem, and a
ceinture. The first, used for the actual crowning, and
worn only on state occasions, consisted of eight branches,
four wrought in palm, and four in myrtle leaves of gold,
incrusted with diamonds; round the circlet ran a corded
fillet set with eight very large emeralds; and the bandeau
which immediately inclosed the head shone with resplen-
dent amethysts. The diadem, worn before the corona-
tion, and on the more ordinary state occasions, was com-
posed of four rows of pearls of the finest water, inter-
laced with foliage of diamonds the workmanship of which
equalled the materials; in front were several brilliants,
the largest weighing one hundred and forty-nine grains.
The ceinture was of gold so pure as to be quite elastic,
enriched with thirty-nine rose-coloured diamonds.”
We have always thought that more importance should
Joseph.INE'S CORONATION. 263
be attached to one circumstance that occurred during the
coronation than has usually been given to it. Although,
in sending to the capital of the Catholic world for a Pope
to consecrate the establishment of the new dynasty,
Napoleon may have seemed to surrender the great prin-
ciple of his political faith, yet in forbidding the Pontiff
from even touching the crown which lay before him, and
especially by the act of lifting it himself, and placing it
on his own head, he gave the world to understand that
he was the founder and author of his own dynasty. It
was to her husband that Josephine knelt, and it was
from his hands that she received her imperial crown.
TVIII.
The entire month of December was given up by their
new subjects to celebrations, pomps, and festivals. Illumi-
nations, fetes, and rejoicings filled the Empire. On the
evening of the great fête given by the city of Paris (Dec.
15), the Empress found in the apartments prepared for
her temporary reception in the Hotel de Ville, a toilet-
Service, a table, ewer and basin, of massive gold and ex-
quisite workmanship—a present from the municipality of
Paris. A curious incident also occurred in connexion
with this fete worth relating. An immense balloon,
formed into the shape of an imperial crown, irradiating
brilliant lamps like the gems of a coronet, was launched
that evening. The burning diadem rose majestically into
the heavens, and sailed off towards the south. Fifteen
days later, as the Emperor was dressing one morning, a
member of the Privy Council entered, and announced that
the diadem balloon had fallen near Rome on the evening
of the 17th ; “thus bearing,” said the councillor, “your
imperial crown to the two capitals of the world within
twenty-two hours.” The fact is perfectly substantiated
that this flying emblem of the glory of Napoleon's
264 THE EMPRESS Joseph INE.
Empire had traversed France, scaled the Alps, and swept
over Italy, 900 miles, at the rate of forty-five an hour.
LIX.
One evening in April, another incident still more sig-
nificant of the fortunes of the Napoleon dynasty oc-
curred. Hortense had just given birth to her second son;
and Louis Napoleon was solemnly baptised in the pre-
sence of his uncle, the Emperor, and his grandmother,
Letitia, who became his sponsors. It is more than
probable that, as Napoleon took the babe in his arms, he
thought that he might one day wear his crown; and it
is certain that, years afterwards, when the Emperor held
this boy on his knee, he playfully talked with him about
his one day sitting upon the throne.
After the festivities which followed the ceremonies of
this baptism that same evening were concluded, as Napo-
leon was passing through the hall to retire, he uttered to
the marshal of his household the simple order—“Horses
at six for Italy.” Napoleon visited Brienne, the scene of
his youthful studies on the tour, while Josephine joined
him, by a more direct route, at Lyons. Those stupendous
"roads which the Emperor afterwards constructed over the
Alps were then but just begun, and two beautiful sedans
—the Emperor's lined with crimson and ornamented with
gold, and Josephine's with blue Satin and ornaments of
silver—had been sent from Turin, for crossing Mount
Cenis. These luxurious means of transport enabled the
Empress to cross that terrible barrier of ice which sepa-
rates the north of Europe from the Holy Land of the
scholar, and the Paradise of climates, with the luxurious
ease of an excursion through the parks of Malmaison.
But, participating in the inspiring scenes which surrounded
her, Josephine often stepped from the sedan, and, calling
for the arm of her husband, walked considerable distances


JOSEPHINE AT THE FIELD OF MARENGO. 265
through the Snow, rapt in the inspiration which these
awful sublimities of nature awakened.
LX.
She desired to visit some of the scenes of her husband's
victories during the Italian campaign ; and the cortège
drove to the battle-field of Marengo, where the Empress
was surprised by the magnificent array of 30,000 of the
finest troops of the Empire, who were reviewed in front
of a vast amphitheatre, that had been erected beforehand;
and, seated at Napoleon's side, she witnessed the distri-
bution of the Cross of the Legion of Honour to the heroes
of the Empire. She noticed something curious in the
uniform of the Emperor. His hat was trimmed with
broad but tarnished gold-lace. The cloak that he now
called his imperial mantle was worm-eaten. His coat was
blue, with long skirts, and at his side hung a heavy
cavalry Sabre—all bespeaking days of greater simplicity
and harder knocks. Said Josephine, “Why, how shabby
you are dressed.” .
“Dressed ſº said Napoleon; “why, will not this do #
This is what I wore on the day of Marengo.” §
When these scenes of mimic-war, which revived the
recollections of the brilliant victories of Italy, were passed,
the imperial cortège travelled to Milan, where the cere-
mony of the coronation of Napoleon as King of Italy
was celebrated with great splendour in the cathedral.
This most superb of all the mighty structures that were
erected during the Middle Ages for the worship of God
now witnessed the most magnificent display it had ever
seen. The iron crown of the Lombard kings, which, just
one thousand and four years before, had encircled the
brow of Charlemagne, now pressed the head of Napoleon.
One word of this most venerable of all royal or Christian
relics. It is called the Iron Crown, because a tradition

266 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
which has been believed by many wise and learned men
informs us that the narrow strip of iron which lines the
base circle of the crown was one of the nails which fixed
the Saviour to the cross. It has been placed upon the
anointed heads of a hundred emperors and kings, and can
still be seen in the cathedral at Monza, a small town a
few miles north of Milan. There it is preserved with the
regalia, the missal, and other jewels and treasures of
Theodolinda, one of the first Gothic Christian Queens of
Lombardy. -
LXI.
After a brief sojourn in the capital of Lombardy the
imperial tourists crossed the “terrible bridge of Lodi,”
visited the castle of Mantua, and finally reached Genoa,
that superb city, whose principal avenue, lined with the
finest palaces in the world for upwards of a mile, Napo-
leon remarked, “was fit for a congress of kings.”
Delighted with the people, the climate, and the scenes of
enchantment and festivity around her, she wished to
remain for a considerable period ; but the despots of
Europe had consolidated another coalition against the new
Emperor, and the first blasts of the storm of battle were
now sweeping down from the North. The receipt of
important information hurried Napoleon back to Paris,
to prepare for the campaign of Austerlitz, Josephine
could have returned with more leisure ; but she preferred
to accompany her husband. Once on the journey, they
hardly rested an hour till it was finished. The relays of
post-horses were now so complete all over the Empire that
a journey of a thousand miles could be performed almost
with the speed of a railway. This resembled a flight
rather than a journey. As the carriage came up to each
station buckets of fresh water were dashed upon the
smoking wheels, which caught fire at every relay; yet so
great was the impatience of the Emperor that he was
267
continually crying out, “On 1 on 1 we do not move ſ” at
every step, although the panting horses were flying as
though they were on a race-course, . .
LXII,
After a brief interval of repose in Paris, the Emperor
pushed on to Boulogne, struck his camp of 200,000 men,
who had been destined for the invasion of England, and
pointed the flight of his eagles once more beyond the
Rhine. Josephine was left Regent of the Empire; and
to show with what lofty and just views she contemplated
the importance of her new duties, we quote the following
letter which she addressed to Cambacéres, Arch-Chancel-
lor of the Empire, and her chief adviser.
SIR,-To-morrow, as you know, in absence of the Emperor, I am
to give audience to the Senate and the different authorities. In a con-
juncture of such moment two things are needful—to inform you of my
intentions, and to receive your advice. In this my necessity to whom
can I more properly apply than to the distinguished personage who
possesses the Emperor's entire confidence, and whom France regards,
with reason, as his worthy representative 2
The various addresses have been communicated to me, and I send
you an outline of the terms in which, I conceive, I ought to reply.
I remind the Senate that, as fathers of their country and conser-
vators of her institutions, to them belongs the sole duty of maintaining
a balance between the different powers of the state, not permitting
themselves to encroach upon any one. To the Legislative Body I say
that their functions are to judge, and to pass laws, particularly those
relating to taxation, without meddling in the march of government,
which such interference would impede. I call to the remembrance of
the Council of State that for them has been reserved the important duty
of preparing, by previous discussion, good internal laws, and a durable
legislation. To the Ministers I state that they form neither a corpora-
tion nor even a legislative commission—neither the administration nor
the government ; but that, under the title of superior agents of the
government, and first commissioners of its chief, they execute, and
cause to be executed, orders which are the immediate consequences of
legislative determinations. To the clergy I explain that they form a
portion of the state, while the state never is, and never can be, trans-
THE EMPRESS JosephinE.
ferred to them; that their sole and exclusive province is the conscience,
n which they are to act so as to form citizens to the country, soldiers
for the territory, subjects for the sovereign, and virtuous fath
families. To the magistracy I say, that applying without interpre
seize with sagacity the spirit of the law, reconciling the happiness of
the governed with the respect due to governors. To the savans I ac-
knowledge that the gentle empire of the arts, of science, and literature,
mpers whatever might be too austere in arms, which yet, in a season
of transition and trial, are indispensable. The manufacturers and
merchants are reminded that they should have but two thoughts, which
t bottom are one and the same—the prosperity of our own productions
§ stated that the treasures of France are buried in the soil, and that by ,
their exploits; and from under a canopy of standards conquered b
their valour, and consecrated by their blood, do I speak.
Let me know speedily, and with perfect frankness, whether I am
worthy thus to address the august assembly of my hearers.
§§§ LXIII. §
We need not again recount the prodigies of this bril-
liant campaign. Scarcely a day passed without the arrival
of Napoleon's couriers, bringing intelligence of new vic-
tories; but for some time now no courier had arrived,
and Josephine had begun to grow anxious. A numerous
circle had passed the evening at St. Cloud, where the non-
arrival of intelligence formed almost the only subject of
conversation. Josephine felt the deepest depression of
spirits, and the party was about to break up late at night,
when suddenly shouts were heard, and a single rider came
up into the court-yard. The Empress rushed to the win-
dows, and heard the grateful words, “Victory —Auster-
litz!” She flew down the stairs, followed by the ladies
of the court, where she was greeted by “Moustache” (the
soubriquet Napoleon had fixed on his faithful Mameluke),
who put into her hands a hasty note from the field of
the laws, in unity of views and identity of jurisprudence, they are to
ind the ruin of those of England. Finally, to the agriculturists it is
the ploughshare and the spade they are thence to be extracted. To the
heroes of either service I have nothing to say; this palace is filled with
























the firmament, and blazing with deeper intensity; she wa
. 1 by Une -------.
drawing from her finger a superb diamond ring, pre-
ited it to this swarthy son of the Nile. He had ridden
hundred and fifty miles within the last twelve hours;
he was taken exhausted from the saddle, his noble
h rse fell dead on the pavement,
Another circumstance now added to the happiness of
º Josephine—the marriage of her son Eugene with the
Princess Royal of Bavaria. She obeyed with alacrity the
§§ date which called her to celebrate the nuptials t
M. Little had now for some time been said abº
a divorce. Her daughter had married a brother of Na
leon, and was soon to be raised to the throne of Hollan
her son had married into one of the royal families
Europe; Napoleon's star was mounting still higher int
the object almost of the idolatry of the French nation, and
Heaven seemed to spread every morning's sunshine upon
the hills without a single cloud, .
This, however, was the calmness which pre
tempest. Had the first son of Hortense lived,
be little doubt that he would have been se
heir to the Empire. He had evinced, fro
the most sprightly disposition, and his uncle was ten
attached to him ; but he died in his fifth year (in 180
and almost immediately afterward Napoleon ope
tiations with Alexander for an alliance with one
imperial princesses of Russia. Hortense went almost
with the loss of this favourite boy, and Josephine
suffered almost as deeply. She said that, if her agon






































270 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
not as acute, her sorrow was greater than a mother's.
When the news came of the death of young Napoleon
Charles, she spent three days in her room alone, weeping,
with a portrait of her grandson, a lock of his hair, and the
little toys he had played with , and she felt a presentiment
of what turned out to be true, that her loss was irreparable.
Many incidents had conspired to attach Napoleon to this
child. One morning, for instance, after the Emperor had
held a review of the Old Guard, and, coming into the
Tuileries, had thrown his sword on one sofa and his hat
on another, as he walked the apartment, conversing with
his wife, the little Napoleon Charles entered the room un-
observed, and, putting the sword-belt over his neck and
the chapeau on his head, began to march after his uncle
and whistle one of the martial airs of France. Wheir the
Emperor saw the little prince thus playing his pranks, he
caught him in his arms, and, bestowing upon him the
deepest caresses, said, with a smile, to Josephine, “Here is
the next Emperor of France.” But who the successor of
Napoleon should be was to be decided in the councils of a
higher Empire,
LXVI.
The Emperor had returned from the ratification of the
Peace of Tilsit, and reached Paris on the 27th of July.
The remainder of this last peaceful summer of Josephine's
life they passed most of the time either at St. Cloud or at
Fontainbleau. In the middle of November, scarcely with-
out a warning, Josephine was asked if she would like to
go to Italy. A few hours after, the carriages came up,
and they travelled with such speed through France and
across the Alps, that they were within two miles of Milan
before Eugene, now the Viceroy of Italy, knew that the
Emperor had left Paris. He had just time to mount a
horse, and, with a few attendants, ride out to meet the
cortège. “Come, Eugene,” were Napoleon's first words,
NAPOLEON AT A MASKED BALL, 271
“sit here by your mother, and let us enter your capital
together.” Another tour through Italy followed—im-
portant political results succeeded; but in a few weeks
Napoleon and Josephine "returned to Paris, where they
arrived on New Year's Eve, 1808. Soon after, Mademoi-
selle de Tascher, niece to the Empress, was married to the
Duke d’Arberg, one of the princes of the Confederation of
the Rhine. Alliances were also consummated between
Prince Hohenzollern and a niece of Murat, and Berthier
with a princess of Bavaria. Hundreds of successive
numbers of the journals of that day are filled with accounts
of that winter of festivities, which celebrated the recent
triumphs of Napoleon on the field, and the new matri-
monial alliances contracted by different branches of his
family. Great as was Napoleon's repugnance to masked
balls, he was induced to attend one of them ; when, for
the first and last time in his imperial life, he is said to have
participated in the dance. He had ordered ten different
dresses to be taken to the apartment designed for him ;
but in each disguise he was detected. Several of his
marshals often amused themselves with a good laugh at
his utter failure in this attempt to unplay the Emperor.
“Do you know,” said Napoleon, when rallied on this
subject, “that I was regularly discovered by a jeune dame,
who seemed to be an accomplished intriguant; and yet,
would you believe it ! with all my efforts I never could
recognise the flirt.” Josephine was present during this
conversation, and, unable to contain herself any longer,
fell to laughing immoderately. Thus the discovery at last
came out that she had been the “jewne dame” herself.
LXVII. -
The following racy story is given on high authority by
one of the biographers of Josephine. “During the car-
mival of that winter, the masked balls at the opera were
272 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
frequented by all the upper classes, and were particularly
amusing. Josephine was very anxious to have Napoleon
See One, but he would not go. ‘Then I shall go without
you, mon ami, replied the Empress. “Do as you like,
was the response, as the Emperor rose from the breakfast-
table. At the appointed time, Josephine left for the ball,
but, the very moment she had set out, her husband sent
for one of her femmes-de-chambre to learn exactly how
she was dressed. With a game to play, the Emperor re-
solved to do his part well; so with Duroc, another officer,
and his own favourite valet, all completely masked, he
entered a common carriage, and, arm in arm, they went
into the ball-room. Napoleon was that night to have the
name of Auguste, Duroc was to be François, &c. They
made the tour of the apartments undetected, and not a
person resembling Josephine was visible. He was about
leaving, when a mask approached and rallied him with so
much wit he had to stop for a reply ; but he was some-
what embarrassed, which being perceived by the mask,
harder repartees fell thick and fast. The crowd mingled
in the giddy and electric movements of a bal masque; but
at every turn this mask whispered low in his ear a state
Secret, of little importance in itself, but startling to
Napoleon. At last he exclaimed, after one of these
whispers—‘Comment, diable / Who are you?' And thus
he was tormented for nearly an hour, till he could endure
it no longer, when he withdrew in disdain and disgust.
When he entered the palace that night, he learned that
Josephine had some time before retired to her room. As
they met next morning, Napoleon said, “So you were not
at the ball last night.” “Indeed I was.” “Oh, Josephine !’
“But I assure you I was there. And you, 'mon ami,'
with a half-suppressed smile she continued, what were
you about all the evening?” “I was in my cabinet,” said,
Napoleon, ‘Oh, Auguste P replied the Empress, with an
THE DIVORCE, 273
arch gesture. The whole secret was out : Josephine had
donned a new costume, of which her femme-de-chambre
knew nothing, and Napoleon enjoyed and repeated the
joke a thousand times.” It were all vain to hope that her
husband, in any costume, could move without having his
identity immediately detected by a woman of such keen
perceptions as Josephine.
LXVIII,
The next event of any importance in the life of
Josephine is found in her departure for Bayonne with her
husband, when he went to the conquest of Spain. She
kept a most interesting diary of every-day occurrences
during this journey, but we cannot find space for the ex-
tract of a single line. Then followed the second campaign
of Vienna, which left Josephine a second time Regent of
France. X-
After the Emperor returned from the campaign which
was terminated by the victory of Wagram, it became
evident that her divorce was approaching. The court
was established at Fontainbleau ; but the Emperor passed
very little of his time with his wife, and shortly after-
wards, at the Emperor's command, the private access
between their apartments was closed up. They now
seldom met ; and when Josephine returned from these
interviews, her eyes and complexion bore marks of the
intensity of her suffering. At last, when it became
necessary for the Emperor to communicate undisguisedly
his decision, he endeavoured to persuade her of its political
necessity and advantages; but she asserted and defended
the sacredness of her claims by arguments, tears, supplica-
tions, and appeals, but ending always with that calm
resignation to her fate and that magnanimous immolation
of self which time and again enfeebled the purpose and
unnerved the heart of the Emperor.
T
274 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
LXIX.
“In what stupor,” says Josephine, in speaking of this
terrible interval, “in what uncertainty, more terrible
than death, did I live during these discussions, until he
had avowed the resolution I had so long read clearly in
his face {" She rallied, however, sometimes; and one
evening particularly, when they were alone, she led her
husband to the western window, and, singling out a bright
star, said, “Do you see it, Bonaparte'. It is mine : and
remember that to my star, and not to thine, sovereignty is
decreed by Heaven. Separate our fates, and your star
sinks for ever !” .
Again and again Napoleon's purpose was defeated;
again and again, however, he summoned resolution for
what cost him the severest struggle of his life. He had
at last fixed on the 30th of November for making known
to his wife his unalterable determination. He had passed
most of the day in his library, and she in tears in the
solitude of her chamber. They were to dine together
alone. Course after course came, and went away un-
touched. The only sound at the table was the click of
Napoleon's knife on the edge of his glass, which he did
unconsciously. He asked one question of no importance ;
it was something of an attendant about the weather.
“My Sunshine,” says Josephine's own record, “I saw, had
passed away. Directly after coffee Bonaparte dismissed
everyone, and I remained alone with him. I watched in
the changing expression of his countenance the struggle
of his soul. At length his features settled into stern
resolve. I saw that my hour was come. His whole
frame trembled. He approached, and I felt a shuddering
horror come over me. He took my hand, placed it on his
heart, gazed at me for a moment, and then pronounced these
fearful words: ‘Josephine ! Josephine ! thou knowest if
JOSEPHINE’s WARNING TO NAPOLEON. 275
I have loved thee . To thee alone do I owe the only
moments of happiness I have ever enjoyed. Josephine !
my destiny overmasters my will, My dearest affections
must be silent before the interests of France P ‘Say no
more,' I had still strength enough to answer. ‘I was
prepared for this; but the blow is not less mortal.’ More
I could not utter. I cannot tell what passed within me.
I believe my screams were loud. I thought reason had
fled. I became unconscious of everything, and, on re-
turning to my senses, found I had been carried to my
chamber.” She had, indeed, fallen senseless upon the floor,
and, calling for help from the door he had opened, two or
three attendants presented themselves, with whose assist-
ance the Emperor carried his wife to her bedroom. Here
the attendants were dismissed; and, as her women entered,
they found Napoleon hanging, over Josephine in the
deepest anxiety. Often during the night he returned to
ascertain the state of his wife. “On recovering,” Jose-
phine continues in her account, “I perceived that Cor-
visart (the great surgeon) was in attendance, and my poor
daughter weeping over me. No, I cannot describe the
horror of my situation during that night. Even the in-
terest which he affected to take in my sufferings seemed
to me a fresh cruelty. O my God! how justly had I
reason to dread the day I was to become an Empress!”
LXX.
After a few days, Josephine addressed the following
letter to her husband. -
My presentiments are realised. You have pronounced the word
which separates us ; the rest is only a formality. Such is the reward,
I will not say of so many sacrifices (they were sweet, because made for
you), but of an attachment unbounded on my part, and of the most
solemn oaths on yours. But the state, whose interests you put forward
as a motive, will, it is said, indemnify me, by justifying you ! These
interests, however, to which you feign to immolate me, are but a pre-
276 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE.
text ; your ill-dissembled ambition, as it has been, so will it ever con-
tinue, the guide of your life—a guide which has led you to victories and
to a throne, and which now urges you to disasters and to ruin.
You speak of an alliance to contract, of an heir to be given to your
Empire, of a dynasty to be founded ! But with whom do you contract
that alliance " With the natural enemy of France—that insidious
House of Austria, which detests our country from feeling, system, and
necessity. Do you suppose that the hatred, so many proofs of which
have been manifested, especially during the last fifty years, has not
been transferred from the kingdom to the empire, and that the de-
scendants of Maria. Theresa, that able sovereign, who purchased from
Madame Pompadour the fatal treaty of 1756, mentioned by yourself
only with horror—think you, I ask, that her posterity, while they
inherit her power, are not animated also by her spirit I do nothing
more than repeat what I have heard from you a thousand times; but
then your ambition limited itself to humbling a power which now you
propose to elevate. Believe me, so long as you shall be master of
Europe, Austria will be submissive to you—but never know reverse
As to the want of an heir, must a mother appear to you prejudiced
in speaking of a son 3 Can I–ought I to be silent respecting him who
constitutes my whole joy, and on whom once centred all your hopes
The adoption of the 2nd January, 1806, was, then, a political false-
hood But there is one reality, at least: the talents and virtues of my
Eugene are no illusion. How many times have you pronounced their
eulogium ! What do I say? Have you not deemed them worthy of
the possession of a throne as a recompense, and often said they de-
served more ? Alas! France has repeated the same; but what to you
are the wishes of France 2 -
I do not here speak of the person destined to succeed me, nor do you
expect that I should mention her. Whatever I might say on that sub-
ject would be liable to suspicion. But one thing you will never suspect
—the vow which I form for your happiness. May that felicity at least
recompense me for my sorrows. Ah, great it will be if proportionate
to them - … . .
LXXI.
But no public declaration had yet been made of the
divorce, and it was still the duty of the Empress to attend
all public fetes which celebrated the coronation. The
Viceroy of Italy had been summoned to appear in these
festivities; but when Napoleon made known to him the

PROCLAMATION OF THE DIVORCE, 277
decision he had come to, the noble Eugene answered by
saying—“Sire, allow me to retire from your service. The
son of her who is no longer Empress cannot remain Vice-
roy. I will follow my mother into her retreat. When
you abandon her she must find consolation in her chil-
dren.” It is said that Napoleon pronounced the following
words with tears: “You know, Eugene, the stern neces-
sity which urges this measure ; yet you abandon me.
Who, then, if I should have a son whom I can love, and
appoint my successor—who will watch over this child
when I am gone If I should die, who will prove a
father to him—bring him up—make a man of him tº
Josephine's magnanimity went so far that she not only
resolved to be present at the coronation of the woman who
was to take her place—the hated Autrichienne—but she
persuaded her children to concur in the act of divorce.
“The Emperor,” she said, “is your benefactor. He has
been more than a father to you. You owe everything to
him, and you are bound to consult his wishes.” Another
act of Josephine's must even have tasked her conscience.
Before Maria Louisa would consent to a marriage with
Napoleon she required evidence that he had never been
married with religious rites. The reader already knows
that although the night before the coronation, at the
demand of the Pope, their union had been solemnised
by Cardinal Fesch, yet this was a secret known only to a
few, and in the official account in the Monitewr there
was no record of the fact. When Josephine was ap-
pealed to, she referred in silence to the records of the
Moniteur. Thus Maria Louisa was left in ignorance of the
religious celebration of their marriage, and therefore she
consented to the nuptials.
LXXII.
On the 15th of December the Council of the Empire
was officially informed of the intended divorce, and on the
278 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
following day the imperial family and court were assembled
at the Tuileries. The hollowness of courts and the heart-
lessness of courtiers were fully exemplified by the murmur
of congratulation that went through the assemblage. Na-
poleon was the only sad man there. In the centre of the
great saloon stood an arm-chair before a small table, on
which was a sheet of parchment and an apparatus of gold
for writing. When the company were all assembled, a
door opened, and Josephine, dressed in a white muslin,
without an ornament, slowly entered, leaning on the arm
of Hortense, whose tears bespoke how little she was re-
signed to this immolation of her imperial mother. With
the grace which characterised all her movements, she
glided half-cheerfully to a seat, where she listened with
great calmness to the reading of the act of separation. As
the words fell from the lips of the Arch-Chancellor of the
Tºmpire, large and lustrous tears rolled unbidden, but
calmly, down her cheeks. Hortense sobbed aloud all the
time; and Eugene, the warrior, trembled convulsively.
The reading was finished. Passing for an instant the
handkerchief to her eyes, she arose, and, with almost a
firm voice, pronounced the oath of acceptance to this
infamous deed. Resuming her seat again, she took the
pen and signed her assent to the divorce. As she had
come, so she withdrew, on the arm of the Queen of Hol-
land; and Eugene, unable to control his feelings, followed
the suffering group, and when the door closed behind
them he fell fainting to the floor. A brave man can
front danger and overawe adversity, but cannot look
unmoved upon cruelty and injustice.
LXXIII.
But there was another act in this drama of the heart,
and this farce of a heartless Empire, yet to be witnessed
on that day. Late at night, when the Emperor had
JOSEPHINE LEAVES THE TUILERIES. 279
retired to rest, suddenly the door of his chamber opened,
and Josephine tottered to his bed-side, and in an agony
of tears threw herself upon the neck of her husband. She
knew that she ought not to be there, and yet she felt that
she must. Napoleon himself was overcome with the ma-
jesty and greatness of her suffering, and they wept to-
gether for an hour, clasped in each other's arms. It was
the last time they were to meet on the imperial couch,
and Napoleon himself prolonged the interview. .
TXXIV.
The next morning, at eleven, the divorced Empress was
to leave the palace of the Tuileries, to return to it no more.
From the highest to the lowest member of the household,
all assembled to witness the departure of her who, in the
fine language of one of their number, carried with her into
exile the hearts of all who had had access to her presence.
Leaming on the arm of one of her ladies, and so deeply
veiled that her countenance could not be seen, she de-
scended the stair-way in a silence too profound to last; for
she had taken but a few steps before there was an involum-
tary and simultaneous burst of grief. But she spoke not.
The only response she made to this touching language of
grief from those who loved her was the shudder of the last
pang she was ever to feel in the imperial halls where she
had embellished the Empire of Napoleon. She sank faint-
ing into a close carriage; and the clatter of the feet of
six horses echoed coldly through the court-yard, as they
bore away from that ancient palace the fairest, the brightest,
and the best woman that had ever sat upon the throne of
France. .
Lxxv.
Several months Josephine had now passed in solitude
and grief Whatever Napoleon could do to mitigate the
harshness of this severe stroke had been done. A pension
*
280 . THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
of six hundred thousand dollars a-year was settled on her
for life, and promptly paid till Napoleon's fall. The
magnificent villa of Malmaison, with all its grounds and
treasures of art and beauty, with the ancient palace of
Navarre, were presented to her, and her title of Empress
was confirmed. She received frequent visits—“almost of
homage”—from the members of the imperial court ; for
it was universally understood that Napoleon desired every
token of respect should be shown to his former wife. Her
villa presented a more animated and brilliant spectacle
than even while Napoleon was its master It was fre-
quented by the most illustrious statesmen, scholars, artists,
and men of taste of the Empire. She was universally
respected, admired, and beloved; and her fall from the
throne seemed to clothe her with new splendour.
LXXVI.
She still cherished her affection for Napoleon, and lost
no opportunity of demonstrating her respect for him.
“The apartment he had occupied remained exactly as he
had left it; she would not suffer even a chair to be moved,
and, indeed, very rarely permitted anyone to enter, keep-
ing the key herself, and dusting the articles with her own
hands. On the table was a volume of history, with the
page doubled down where he had finished reading; beside
it lay a pen, with ink dried on the point, and a map of
the world, on which he was accustomed to point out his
plans to those in his confidence, and which still showed on
its surface many marks of his impatience. These Josephine
would not allow to be touched on any account. By the
wall stood Napoleon's camp-bed, without curtains: and
above continued to hang such of his arms as he had
placed there. On different pieces of furniture were flung
various portions of apparel, just as he had used them last;
for, among his other extraordinary ways, he had a prac-
JOSEPHINE AFTER THE Divorce. 281
tice, on retiring to rest, of flinging rather than taking off
his clothes, casting down a coat here, a vest there, usually
pitching his watch into the bed, and his hat and shoes
into the farthest corner of the apartment.
“Josephine's own bed-chamber, to which she removed
after her divorce, was extremely simple, draped only with
white muslin, its sole ornament being the gold toilet-
service already mentioned, and which, with a noble gene-
rosity, she refused to consider as private property till
Napoleon sent it after her, together with many other
valuables left behind in like manner.”
LXXVII.
In devoting herself to the adornment of the Villa Mal-
maison, Josephine displayed the most refined and artistic
taste. In a letter of instruction to her superintendent,
she tells him that the first apartment of the suite, which
was to serve for an ante-room, must be painted in light
green, with a border of lilacs. In the panels were to be
placed fine engravings from Bible scenes, and under each
a portrait of the distinguished generals of the Revolution,
In the centre of the room there was always to be a large
flower-stand filled with fresh flowers in their season, and
in each angle the bust of a French philosopher. She
particularly mentioned that Rousseau was to stand between
the two windows, where the vines and foliage could play
around his head, forming a natural crown worthy the
author of “Emile.” Her private cabinet was to be in light
blue, with a border of ranunculus and polyanthus. Ten
large engravings from the gallery of the Museé, and
twenty medallions, filled up the panels. The casements
were painted white and green, with double fillets of gold.
“ Unite elegance to variety; but no study, no profusion.
I confide to you the care of rendering this cherished spot
an agreeable retreat, where I may meditate—sleep, per-
282 TIIE EMPRESS Joseph INE.
haps—but oftenest read; which says sufficient to remind
you of the three hundred volumes of my small edition.”
LXXVIII.
The first million of francs which Napoleon allowed
Josephine from his own purse were expended in restoring
the castle of the ancient kings of Navarre, which had
been long neglected, and nearly demolished in the Revo-
lution. Its immense park had once been embellished by
flowing streams and gleaming lakes ; but the water-
courses had ceased to flow, and the lakes had become
stagnant marshes. But Josephine soon made it wear a
new aspect ; the beds of the streams were cleared out and
covered with white gravel, the lakes were excavated and
filled with fish, the old forest-roads were repaired, and
fertility and beauty once more embellished this ancient
retreat of the French monarchs. In these delightful en-
gagements she was aided by the taste of the most dis-
tinguished artists in France, and in her public improve-
ments Napoleon himself aided by his ingenious and prac-
tical suggestions. Thus, gradually, the heavy cloud which
had so long hung in blackness over her heavens began to
break away, and was dissolved by the balmy sunshine,
and her palace soon wore the aspect of hospitable, intel-
lectual, and artistic refinement. 2. .
I, XXIX.
A great deal of pleasant correspondence was maintained
with Napoleon, and from one of her letters we make the
following extract. “I was perfectly assured that your
attachment would discover the means of consoling me,
under a separation necessary to the tranquillity of us both.
After proving all the sweets of reciprocated love, and all
the suffering of one that can no longer be returned—after
exhausting all the pleasures that Supreme power can con-
LETTER to NApoleon. 283
fer, what is there left but repose that I can now desire?
Do not, then, condole with me on my being separated from
court, which you seem to think I regret. Surrounded by
those who love me, free to indulge my taste for the arts,
I form a thousand projects of pleasure in embellishing
the scenes I owe to your generosity. There is much to be
done here at Navarre; for all around are discovered
traces of destruction, These I will efface, that there may
exist no memorial of those horrors which your genius has
- taught the nation almost to forget. I shall diffuse com-
fort around me, in repairing what the revolutionary
destroyers tried to annihilate, and the benedictions of the
poor will afford me infinitely more pleasure than all the
feigned adulations of courtiers. . . . My most honour-
able title is derived not from having worn the imperial
crown, but from having been chosen by you—that alone
secures me immortality, I expect Eugene. I long to
see him, for he will surely bring me a new pledge of your
remembrance, and I can at leisure ask him a thousand
things which I cannot inquire of you, and which you
ought not to tell me. . . . I find myself particularly at
home in the midst of my forest ; and I intreat you, Sire,
no longer to fancy that there is no living away from
court. Do not forget your friend ; tell her sometimes
that you preserve for her an attachment which constitutes
the happiness of her life : often repeat the words, “I am
happy : and be assured that for her the future will thus
be peaceful, as the past has been stormy and sad.” -
IXXX.
We have, in the life of Napoleon, briefly spoken of the
rejoicings which attended the birth of the King of Rome.
Tt is not only a duty but a pleasure, to contemplate the
conduct of Josephine at this period, which any but a
magnanimous soul must have found so extremely trying.


284 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
By couriers and telegraphic signals the tidings of the
birth of Napoleon's son flew to every quarter of France,
and the most distant quarter of the Empire of his father.
Orders were received by the Prefect of Evreux to cele-
brate the event; but Napoleon (for it could not have
been an oversight) had sent no messenger to Josephine.
That great man was not great enough to conceive how
his divorced wife could be generous enough to mingle
hers in the universal congratulations. A young lady of
rank, who was then a guest at Navarre, says in her ac-
count—“My affection for Josephine was so boundless that
I suffered the intensest sorrow in thinking how great her
grief must be. I knew, however, but imperfectly the
grandeur of her soul or her absolute devotion to the hap-
piness of Napoleon. I imagined there must remain in
her enough of the common woman to excite bitter regret
that she had not been the mother of the son so ardently
desired. But I could not have made a greater mistake.
Among all the joyous faces when the news came, Jose-
phine's was more radiant than all. She expressed her
great regret at being so far from Paris, for at Malmaison
she could have received information every half hour;
and she expressed her gratitude even that the painful
sacrifice she had made for France was likely now to be
of service to her country. Josephine said the only thing
that made her sad was, that she had not been informed of
the Emperor's happiness by himself. But she said to us,
‘Young ladies, we must have a fête to celebrate this
auspicious event. I will give you a splendid ball ; so
make your preparations. Get out my jewels. And as
for you, gentlemen, Irequire that you now go into grande
costume.’”
LXXXI.
On the very might Josephine received the news she wrote
a letter to Napoleon, from which we extract a few lines,
BIRTH OF THE KING OF ROME. 285
“Sire, While you are receiving felicitations from every
corner of Europe, from all the cities of France and the
regiments of the army, can the feeble voice of a woman
reach your ear, and will you deign to listen to her who
has so often consoled your sorrows, now when she speaks
to you only of that happiness which must be so complete?
Having ceased to be your wife, dare I felicitate you on
becoming a father! . . . I should have desired to learn
the birth of the King of Rome from yourself, and not
from the echoes of the cannon of Evreux, or the courier
of the Prefect. I know that your first attentions are due
to the authorities of the State, to foreign Ministers, to
your family, and, above all, to the fortunate princess who
has realised your dearest hopes. Although she cannot love
you better than I do, she has been enabled to consummate
your hopes. I dare not depend on you, Sire, for circum-
stantial details of the great event which assures perpetuity
to the name you have so nobly illustrated. Eugene and
Hortense will write me, and express their own Satisfaction;
but it is from you that I desire to know if the child is
well—if he looks like you—if I shall one day be allowed
to see him ; in a word, I expect from you unlimited con-
fidence: and I have some claim on it, Sire, because of the
boundless attachment I shall cherish for you as long as I
live.” -
The day after, Eugene set out to visit his mother, to
give her all the details of this great event, upon which
the destinies of the Empire seemed suspended. When he
met his mother, he said, “The Emperor instructed me
when I left in these words: ‘You are going to see your
mother, Eugene; tell her I am certain she will rejoice
over my good fortune more than anybody else. I would
have written to her already, had I not been completely
‘absorbed in the pleasure of looking at my son. I tear
myself from him only to attend to the most indispensable
286 THE EMPRESS JOSEPHINE,
duties. This evening I will discharge the most delightful
duty of all; I will write to Josephine.” & . . . . . .
LXXXII.
Napoleon redeemed his pledge ; and the evening after
Eugene arrived at the château, the folding-doors were
thrown open with the announcement, “From the Em-
peror,” and one of his own pages entered with a letter.
After retiring to a private room for half an hour, she
returned and showed it to her ladies of honour ; and with
a letter in one hand she said, “This for the Emperor,”
and presenting, in a small case, a jewel which cost five
thousand francs with the other, “This for yourself.” To
demonstrate how nobly Josephine wished to act her diffi-
cult part, she wrote a long and generous letter to Maria
Louisa, every word of which we would quote if we could
give the space. A single passage only. .”
“MADAM, While you were only the second wife of the
Emperor, I deemed it becoming to maintain silence to
your Majesty; but that reserve I think may now be laid
aside, since you have become mother to an heir of the
Empire. You might have had some difficulty in crediting
the sincerity of one whom, perhaps, you regarded as a
rival; but you will give faith to the congratulations of a
Frenchwoman, for you have bestowed a son upon France.
Your amiability and sweetness of disposition have won
for you the heart of the Emperor; your benevolence
merits for you the blessings of the unfortunate; the birth
of a son claims the benediction of all France. . . . Under
our kings, the French were satisfied with repose ; now
they demand glory. These, Madam, are the two blessings
the foretaste of which you have been called to give to
France. She will enjoy them in perfection under your
son, if to the manly virtues of his sire he join those of
his august mother, by which they may be tempered.”
NAPOLEON's FALL. 287
But Maria Louisa had not been munificently enough
endowed by mature, even to understand the motives of
Josephine, much less to act on such high and noble
impulses. -
* , - LXXXIII, -
We might prolong our sketches of this beguiling Sub-
ject for an entire volume; but we must bring them to a
close. The birth of an heir, which seemed for a time to
place the seal of perpetuity upon the dynasty he had
founded, cast but a transient glow over Napoleon's crum-
bling Empire. It was fast sinking in the waves of a
counter revolution. Josephine's suspense for the fate of
the man she loved so well was suddenly ended by the
arrival of a letter from the Emperor, at Fontainbleau,
dated April 14, in which he says, “My head and spirit
are freed from an enormous weight. My fall is great, but
at least it will be useful, as men say. In my retreat, I
shall substitute the pen for the sword. The history
of my reign will be curious. The world has yet.
seen me only in profile; I shall show myself in full.
How many things I shall have to disclose! . . . They
have all betrayed me—yes, all. I except from this num-
ber the good Eugene, so worthy of you and me. Adieu,
my dear Josephine. Be resigned as I am ; and ever re-
member him who never forgot, and never will forget you.
Farewell, Josephine. , “NAPOLEON.
“P. S. I expect to hear from you at Elba. I am not
very well.”
It is not strange that the ancient philosophers, without
the guidance of inspired light, when they watched the ebb
and flow of empires and their chieftains (if antiquity fur-
mished anything like this) should have said, “The gods are
just.” In all history we know of no picture more touch-
ing than the sight of this dethroned Emperor, sending his
wayward but stricken heart to Malmaison, when he had
cannot stay here.” exclaimed Josephine in gri
onsternation, when she learned that Napoleon ha
they cannot but respect her who was once the
Napoleon.” We should have remarked that Josephin
had hastened to Paris the moment she heard of the
vance of the allied armies; and now she was prepared for
any emergency. They entered Paris ; and the Empero
Alexander immediately sent a request to Josephine that
she would “retire for safety to Malmaison, where
son and her fortune should be respected.” She
although few demonstrations of respect to N
genius or feelings were shown by the Allies while Paris
lay at the feet of the Cossacks, still Josephine's person
and fortunes were sacredly respected. §
Lxxxiv.
lust.
Malmaison 3. and tw

. sur resenting to your Majesty the universal
homage of which I am the bearer.” Even the Bourbons
§ ves were compelled to pay some tributes of respect
his unparalleled woman; and old Louis not only
red her children with kindness, but requested that
º:33:33 hine might be presented at his court.
Ixxxv,
othing, however, could diminish her affection for
oleon, nor her sympathy for him, in the midst of his
emendous misfortunes. Again she wrote to him at
and said: “Sire-Now only can I calculate the
extent of the misfortune of having beheld my
.” solved by law; now do I indeed lament
I am no more than your friend—that I can only m
over so great a misfortune. It is not the loss of a thron
ow for, on your account, for I know how si
be endured; but my heart sinks at the g
have felt in separating from the veteran com
glory You will also have to
ratitude and desertion of friends
you thought you could rely. Ah, Sire why cann
to you? I have been on the point of quitting France
follow your footsteps, and consecrate to you the remai
of the life which you so long embellishe
alone restrains me, and that you can divine
me, however, that, contrary to all appeara
only one who will fulfil her duty, nothing shall
and I will go to the only place on the earth wh
.. - z- ou in the mids
s necess






























































ut the troubled scenes Josephine had been called to
through had finally broken the gossamer web of her
real life, and the dark wing of death began to cast its
adow over the beloved Empress. One circumstance,
‘hich should not be forgotten, had not a little to do in
nching the light of her glorious life. With the same
unutterable meanness and dishonesty with which the
restored Bourbons had withheld the pittance they
the pension they had pledged themselves to pay;
having expended with the most generous liberality her
income for the go od of others, she now found herself in
great embarrassment. If there were an obligation that a
Bourbon would hold sacred, it would seem that it should
have been this. But Heaven put the stamp of plebeian
meanness upon that race when he made them, and nothing
can wipe it out. They have generally been, in a coun-
tries and in all periods, cowardly and perfidious men.
Josephine could not endure this last mortification. She
saw that her life would soon end; and having estates
which she wished to dispose of in a manner that §
gratifying to the feelings of Napoleon, she made
and sent a draft of it to him at Elba. “Mak
marks, Sire,” she said; “you cannot doubt the
held sacred by me, or that I rejoice in this opportunity of
showing my devotion at a time when all others have
§ was ever returned, it


























lexander dined with her
ay Josephine was worse;
out, and as late as the 24
entertained the Emperor of Russia
ussia, with their suites; but she was ob
banquet-hall, and Hortense took her se
ammation of the throat, manifested such alarming
lat during a visit from Al exander he requested
send his own physician to attend her. Th
lig
n Eugene and Hortense that their mother was
They heard the announcement with unutterable
t Josephine received it from their lips with the





































292 THE EMPRESS Joseph.INE.
to administer to her the last consolations of the Christian
§ most sublime resignation. She sent for the parish clerg §::::::::::::::::::
man of Ruel, who was the preceptor of her grandchildren,
faith. Late on the same evening the Emperor Alexander ś
arrived, and was admitted to the chamber of the sufferer.
º Eugene and Hortense were kneeling by the bed-side.
Josephine rallied her last strength, and beckoned to them. ×
all to approach. “At least,” she faintly pronounced, “I
shall die regretted I have always desired the happiness
of France—I did all I could to contribute to it—and I
can say with truth to you all, in my last moments, that the
first wife of Napoleon never caused a tear to fall.” Aradiant
glory overspread her beautiful features as she gently glided
away to the land of peace. She still breathed till the fol-
lowing morning, her slumbers being disturbed only by
sighs so gentle they scarcely indicated pain, when her spirit
left the world for ever.
Every preparation which affection or respect could
dictate was now made for the last scenes her ashes were to
witness on earth. At five o'clock in the afternoon of the
2nd of June, 1814, the body, which had been embalmed, . .
and been visited while it lay in state by upwards of twenty
thousand of the people of France, was followed to the
grave by a procession of two thousand of the poor, who had
lived on her bounty, and cherished her memory no ;
she was dead, and then consigned to its final repose in the
humble village church of Ruel. To obtain even the favour
of sleeping within the sacred inclosures of a consecrated
church had required the interposition of the most powerful
personages of Europe; for the last insult the Bourbons
dared to offer to this peerless and glorious woman was to
deny her a Christian burial. But what “the most Ca-
tholic" tyrant of France would not grant a Cossack Em-
peror demanded. º sº
The road to the church was lined by the Russian














n had

Her portrait at this per
e married

ºx^º º º
& Af. sº
sº
§ W
§§ §
§º
MARIA LOUISA.



han a month afterwards—the m
ra. at Vienna with great pomp.
Berthier, acting for Napoleon, demanded the han he
Archduchess, and the Archduke Charles, her uncle, stood
roxy for Napoleon,
he ceremonies preliminary to the final marriage were
lebrated at Vienna with the greatest splendour the Em-
ire could give—the departure of the Princess for the
capital of France being arranged for the following day.
She was to proceed to Braunau on the frontiers of Austri
and Bavaria, and there await the escort which Napoleon
was to provide. So, too, the ladies of honour, who had
been sent forward from Paris, with the French Chevalier,
Marshal Berthier, a magnificent retinue, waited to receive
her. This ceremony took place in a small house which
had been built for the occasion near the spot. It was
divided into three apartments—the Austrian, the French,
and one between called the Neutral Room. The Grand
Duchess arrived at Althiem—a village near by, on the
morning of the 16th of March ; where the French escort
had already arrived. The delicate but extremely stiff
formalities of this occasion had been honouret by he
graces and charms of Caroline, the Queen of Naples
ess of
Montibello, the Countesses of Montmartre, Boueille,
(Napoleon's sister, and Murat's wife), the D
Lucay, and Montmorenci, the Bishop of Metz, the Count
Beauharnais, the Chevalierof Honour, the Prince Borghese,
and a vast number of other personages, for whose fame in
the achievements of the Empire, or for their high position
or elegance of manner, Napoleon had chosen to embellish
the occasion.
































we have with some perseverance surveyed
*::::::::::::::::::::::::::: beral range of French, English, German, Spanish,
. and Italian literature, without being able to discover. . º
anything of the slightest importance to mankind, or the
history of the times, in the life of this imperial personage.
Monsieur de Beauset, the prefect of Napoleon's palace,
seems to have been, from all accounts, very ready and
anxious to oblige everybody he could. As a matter of
e, the French escort were eager to set their eyes
upon the Archduchess; and it will never be doubted by
our readers, or anybody else, that the beautiful and
liant women of the French court, in that cortège
dying with curiosity to catch a glimpse of the yo
sovereign who was soon to preside over the courtly
of the Napoleon Empire. Therefore, the good Bea
jored a number of holes in the thin wooden partiti
that separated them from the Austrian court,
Maria Louisa, in her unconscious beauty, was standing on
the hrone prepared for her, going through the ceremoni
to which she was carefully trained, as damseurs are befo
they appear on the boards of the Opera. Hazlitt
that “her person was tall and graceful, her hair flaxen,
her eyes blue, expressive of happiness and innocence, and
her whole visage proved the goodness of her disposition.
She had on a robe of gold tissue, ornamented wit
flowers, and around her neck the miniature pictur
Napoleon, encircled with diamonds, of immer
She was surrounded by the highest persons
'd on her right and left, according to their rank, and
Hungarian officers, in their rich and handso
So much for the first sight of this personage,
us on the authority of Mr. Hazlitt, which
was obtained directly from those who had the







































honour of holding their eyes to the auger-holes made
the partition that separated the Archduchess from
impatient dames of the imperial court of th
should have drawn up beforehand instructions for all the º
details of the journey of the Archduchess from Vienna
to Paris, with as much care as if he had bee
out the campaign of Russia. .
These instructions of the Emperor extend over a
considerable number of pages, and to each movi
the Archduchess he seemed to attach as muc tance.
as to a charge by Ney or Lannes at the battle of Auster-
litz. The ceremonial, however, was complie with
in the French fashion—received the oath of fidelity from
all her attendants—dined with the Queen sº
Madame Lazanski—received the last f
personages of the court of Vienna,
Munich. Here, from sheer indispositi
the trouble of tracing the progress
cortège, we shall allow Mr. Hazlitt,
French frontier, she exchanged her German dress for one
§
























had arisen from allowing early advisers to accompany
youthful princesses into foreign countries, that the practice
was given up as dangerous. On setting her foot on the
sº France, the Empress was hailed as the Aurora of
a brighter day, of a new age of gold. At Strasbourg she :-
was met by a page of the Emperor, who brought a letter,
the choicest flowers of the season, and some pheasants of
his own shooting.” (We never had heard before that
his fire-arms had ever been used for such harmless
The cavalcade passed through Nancy, Vittoire, Chalons,
and Rheims, and was to have stopped at Soissons for the
light, according to a formula fairly penned, and exactly
sº down the interview for the morrow. But the
impatience of Napoleon, who was growing as amorous as
a boy of fifteen, disconcerted all his own fine schemes,
… a . rt the ceremony. The escort was ordered
nd Napoleon, putting on his grey coat, and
he park gate with the Kil
his betrothed bride. He p
through Soissons, and as the carriage in which
Louisa was drew up to change horses at the villag
Courcelles, he flew to the coach-door, opened it him
and the Queen of Naples sayi | --------------------
he threw himself on the Empress's neck, who
prepared for this abrupt and romantic meeting
º
arrived at ten the same evening.
atulations on her arrival were universa.
'aris made costly presents to the Empero .
the procession at the public marriage passed
oud to the Tuileries, and through the great







































gallery of the Louvre, which was lined on each side with
a triple row of all that was most distinguished in France,
a small hamlet (to show how easily enthusiasm runs
§ into superstition), was inscribed in front, Pater Woster,
and on the reverse side, Ave Maria, plena gratid ( The
curate and mayor of so loyal and pious a village did not,
sº of course, go empty-handed away. -
º VII, º
Maria Louisa, it was stated on good authority, was far
nearly in Europe. On the 27th of April the Emperor
and Empress set out on a tour through the northern
Departments, to give the good city of Paris time to
breathe. Dances, garlands of flowers, triumphal arches,
welcomed them all the way. On one of these last,
from being displeased with the demonstrations of im-
petuous love which the hero of Marengo had displayed
in the carriage; and her only reproof was, “The portrait
of your Majesty, which was given to me, does you justice
by no means.” A pretty little incident, however,
. happened when the Empress entered the palace of the
Tuileries. As Berthier, the Imperial Commissioner,
entered her apartment, to conduct her to the carriage
which was to bear her to France, he found her bathed in
tears. “My conduct may seem childish,” she said, “but
this must be my excuse;” and pointing to the various
articles of art and taste which adorned her apartment,
her birds and dog, she spoke of them as the cherished
tokens of love from her different friends. This hint was
enough for any man that Napoleon would confide such a
commission as that to ; and consequently, when her
husband received her in the court-yard of the Tuileries,
and conducted her through a dark passage, lighted only
“Come, come,” was the Emperor's reply; “certainly, you
by a single lamp, and she said, “Where are you going?”



















pageant one of the most imposing as well as the col
fraid to follow me!” At the end of the
he Emperor threw open a cabinet. The blaze
ight dazzled her; but when she recovered, she found
elf in a room fitted up in the same style, with the
ry articles of furniture she had left in tears at Vienna.
ven the poodle-dog was there, to greet its regal mis-
tress with a joyous bark. Overcome with pleasure and
gratitude, she threw herself into Napoleon's arms; and
she often remarked that it was the happiest moment of
her life.
On the first of April, amidst the most enthusiastic
rejoicings of the nation, the civil marriage took place;
and the next day Cardinal Fesch, with all the pomp and
splendour of the Roman Church, gave the benediction to
the imperial pair. The train of Maria Louisa was bor ::::::
by four Queens. All the great dignitaries of state were
present. The Marshals of the Empire in their glittering
uniforms, the ladies of the court superly attired, their
beauty enhanced by the most artistic skill in dress, with
the gorgeous habiliments of the priesthood, rendered the
spectacle Napoleon himself had witnessed since
passage of the Great St. Bernard,
3:3::::::::::::::::::: ::::::::::::::: VIII, § §
Napoleon endeavoured to impress upon the mind of
Maria Louisa something of the grandeur of his Empire,
by the sight of his public works then in progr
Halting at Cherbourg, he showed her the great doc
completed, capable of holding fifty of the largest sh
the line, and her foot was the last to press their fol
tions before the waters of the ocean were let in. §:
where the people received her with acclamation; but their
shouts were not so glad and joyous as those which had
greeted the arrival of Josephine. Her cold manner was




































MARIA LOUISA,
. ferent from the winning smile of the preceding
Empress, that it chilled the hearts of those who ap-
ached her; and it was but the reflection of the pride
he French people felt in the Emperor that cast
round her progress, Josephine's
nevolence endeared her to every heart. A
herous and noble in national sentiment, al
at and glorious in national honour, all th ſº .
gressive in science, flourished under the inspiring influence
of her reign. In Maria Louisa the courtiers had an
Empress, but the people of France had no long
mother.
many who had deserted Josephine when the star
fortune began to wane, hastened to return, certai
The eventful day which, to all appearance, was to ilº
the ambition of Napoleon, had come. On the 20th of
March, 1811, Maria Louisa gave birth to the King of
Rome, Dubois, the celebrated accoucheur, wh sº
attending the Empress, and awaiting the result with the
most painful anxiety, rushed into the apartment of
Napoleon, and asked, “Which shall I save; the mother
or the child?” “The mother,” said the Emperor; “it is
her right.” But the skill of Dubois saved both. So
great was the delight of the Parisians, when the an-
nouncement of the birth of the King of Rome was
made, that a French writer says, y embraced and
kissed each other in the streets—grasped each other's
hands, as if a child was born to each ſº
There is . ittle to esa











































of inactivity—if we except two occasions, when she was
appointed Empress Regent of France. The first was
when Napoleon started on his Russian campaign (14th of
We have already described the scene which attended
parture for Russia, when the Emperor confided his
and child to the officers of the National Guard,
Nor need we again recount that terrible series of
disasters which ended in the destruction of the Grand
Army, and the advance of the Allies on Paris. Their
ad-quarters had been established on the heights of
martre. On the morning of the 29th of March, the
Russians advanced on the wood of Vincennes, and the
reverberations of their cannon carried dismay into the
earts of the Regent Government of Paris.
members assembled, and resolved on withdrawing
he Loire, and Maria Louisa and her son
hem from the capital. They t
Emperor,

































304 MARIA Louisa,
prosperity: his rights and person are under y
safeguard.” But the restoration was inevitable,
X.
ad fallen; and the Allied
hies, with their irresistible phalanxes, had againforced
upon the French people a Bourbon king. The Treaty of
ontainbleau (11th of April, 1814) settled for life the
title of Emperor on Napoleon, and Empress on Maria
Louisa. The island of Elba was given in full sovereignty
to Napoleon, with a pension of two millions of francs,
half of which was to be in reversion to Maria Louisa, on
whom the duchies of Parma, Piacenza, and Guastella
were conferred. Although the Baron Capfigue tells a
story about Maria Louisa attempting on the 19th of
March, 1815, to escape with her son from the castle of
Schoenbrunn, to rejoin her husband after his return from
Elba, sober history gives no credence to this piece of
This ridiculous report was started by Metternich, who
conceived it necessary, the first moment he heard of the
return of Napoleon from Elba, and that he was advancing
triumphantly to Paris, to seize his son, and make him a
prisoner for life. Metternich and the Allied Sovereigns,
and diplomatists, knew that they were safe from subsequent
revolutions no longer than Napoleon and his son were in
their hands. His mother was conveyed to the imperial
palace, and the French governess of the King of Rome
gave place to a German woman. Under the pretext of
preventing another attempt at escape, Maria Louisa was
also herself closely guarded. On the 14th of September
. she signed a paper, by which she renounced for herself
and her child the title of Majesty, and all claims what-
ever to the crown of France. She was thereafter to take
the title of Archduchess of Austria and Duchess of
º The Empire of Napoleon h
























º
LAST DAYS OF MARIA LOUISA, 305
Parma, and her son was to be called Hereditary Prince
of Parma. w
On the 22nd of July, 1818, the Emperor of Austria
conferred on his pale little prisoner and grand-child the
title of Duke of Reichstadt, with that also of Serene
Highness. Thus the mother who bore him went into
perpetual exile in the narrow territory which Austria
had stolen from Tuscany.
XI.
Maria Louisa was doubtless glad to escape from the
oppressive splendour of a brilliant career. She was born,
as Lamartine well says, to adorn obscurity. We should
be glad, since her ashes have long years ago mouldered
in the charnel-house, if we could exempt her memory
from the disgraceful indulgences and obscenities of too
many of the royal palaces of Europe. Contracting, not
long after her flight from France, a wicked and lascivious
connexion with a German soldier, she became the mother
of several children, who were recognised as the sons of
Count Neiperg; but the whole affair was attended with
such scandal that the paternity of her children has
always been considered doubtful. Intrigue after intrigue
disgraced her name. Even her subjects pronounced the
words “Maria Louisa” with unutterable disgust and
SCOTH. - . . .
Thus she went darkling down to an infamous grave.
History has left no record of a female sovereign less
beloved from the time of Theodosia. Where she was
buried we do not know. She was born a Bourbon, and
she died a Bourbon; and her memory has settled into
oblivion. We have only disturbed it in this book for
the purpose of complying with the claims of history,
which seemed to demand that the second wife of the
Emperor should be at least alluded to, .” .
: X
% *tva ºf 93 45 ...:
º

BOO R. W.
JOSEPH BONAPARTE.
Born at Corte, in Corsica, January 7, 1768; Died at Florence,
º. July 28, 1844. .
Joseph, the elder brother of Napoleon, was born the
year previous to the subjugation of his native island to
France; but he was not excelled by either of his brothers
in his attachment to the French nation, and his zeal in
the public service in the various stations confided to him.
When he was tº rs of age, his father took him to
France, and pl nd his brother Napoleon at the col-
lege of Autun, in Burgundy, where he completed his course
of studies with great distinction. His own predilections
were in favour of a military life; but in obedience to the
last wishes of his father, he abandoned these views, and
returned in 1785 to his native country. In February of
that year, Joseph accompanied his father and his uncle,
the young Abbé Fesch, to Montpelier, in search of medical
advice, and had the consolation of attending at the bed-
side of his dying parent. He acquitted himself of the sad
duty reserved for him with all the zeal of an affectionate
ŠOh, sº º . .
§§ . II. - . . .
Continuing to reside with his mother and her family at
Ajaccio, Joseph applied himself to the study of the law,
and prepared himself for public duties. When the mighty
era of 1789 dawned, he embraced the cause of the Revo-





JOSEPH #30 N A.P.A. RTÉ.






oSEPH's MARRIAGE. 307.
lution with ardour, the Bonaparte brothers being among
its most eager partisans. In 1792 Joseph received an sº
appointment in the civil service of the Departmental Ad-
ministration, under the Presidency of Paoli, and was
enabled to assist his mother in the maintenance of the
family. The following year, Corsica, influenced by Paoli,
renounced France, and the Bonapartes separated from the
former friends of their father. The family were compelled
to flee from the island, and took up their residence at
IMarseilles. Joseph soon received an appointment as Com-
missary of War, and was again enabled to aid his mother
in supplying her pecuniary wants, 3:...'. ... .....' ...: '....'.
In 1794 Joseph married Julie Clary, daughter of on
of the wealthiest capitalists of Marseilles, and with her
received a considerable fortune. Her sister married Ber-
nadotte, afterwards King of Sweden, and became mother
of Oscar, the present king. The sisters were remarkable
for their personal beauty, and were much esteemed through
life for their amiable character, exhibited in every vicissi-
tude, Madame Junot says—“Madame Joseph Bonaparte
is an angel of goodness. Pronounce her name, and all the
indigent, all the unfortunate in Paris, Naples, &c., will re-
peat it with blessings. Never did she hesitate a moment
to set about what she conceived to be her duty. Accord-
ingly, Madame de Surviellers (the title assumed by Joseph
and herself in exile) is adored by all about her, and espe-
cially by her own household; her unalterable kindness, her
active charity, gain her the love of everybody, and in the
land of exile she has found a second country. She was
fondly attached to her sister, the Queen of Sweden. The
latter is an excellent, inoffensive creature, prodigiously
fond of everything melancholy and romantic. She had
very fine eyes and a most pleasing smile.”
#





308 JOSEPH BONAPARTE.
Iv. . .
The English having taken possession of Corsica, J oseph
united with some of his countrymen in urgent intreaties to
the French Government for the supplies and troops requi-
site to reconquer the island; but it was only after the occu-
pation of Italy by the French army, in 1796, that their
wishes were crowned with success. On the downfal of
Robespierre, in July, 1794, the Bonaparte brothers were
unjustly proscribed for a short time, upon imputations the
most frivolous and groundless. Napoleon and Lucien
were arrested, and Joseph Saved himself by a temporary
retirement to Genoa. In this extremity of their for-
tunes, Joseph became the prop and support of the family.
His brothers were soon restored to liberty and public
favour, and he returned to Marseilles. r .
In 1796, Joseph, who had already filled a similar ap-
pointment in the army of the Alps, was named a Com-
missary of War under his brother in Italy, and ac-
companied Napoleon in that campaign. Circumstances
rendering General Bonaparte anxious to conclude a treaty
of peace with the King of Sardinia, he despatched Joseph
from Piedmont to demonstrate the necessity of this
measure to the Directory. In this same year Joseph, and
in the following year Lucien, were both returned to the
Council of Five Hundred, as representatives from the
district of Liamone, in Corsica, from which Paoli had fled
the second time. The election of the brothers was brought
about by Lucien, who visited his native island temporarily
for that purpose. .
V.
Joseph had been appointed by the French Directory
Minister Plenipotentiary, and afterwards Envoy Extra-
ordinary, to the Court of Rome, where he entered directly
into a negotiation with Pope Pius VI, with the view of ob-

ENvoy AT THE COURT OF ROME. 309
taining the good offices of the Pontiff in bringing about
a peace with the Royalists of La Vendée. For that pur-
pose the Pope engaged to employ all those means of
authority and persuasion with, which the confidence of
the people of the revolted provinces had invested the
visible head of the Catholic Church. This treaty was in
progress, but the favourable dispositions of the Papal
Court were counteracted by the intrigues of the Austrian
party, as well as by the imprudence of the young Repub-
licans of Rome, who relied upon French countenance and
support to enable them to effect a revolution in the city;
and on December 28, 1797, a few were shot by the
soldiers of the Pope in the courtyard of the palace of
the French Ambassador, where they had taken refuge.
In this instance the sanctuary of the residence of envoys
at Rome was violated; and Duphor, one of the French
generals in the suite of the Ambassador, was killed at his
side. This general was to have been married on the fol-
lowing morning to Eugenie Clary, Joseph's sister-in-law,
the object of Napoleon's first affections, and subsequently
the wife of Bernadotte, King of Sweden, -
VI,
Finding he could no longer remain at Rome without
compromising his official character, Joseph immediately
demanded his passports, and sent from Florence to the
Directory at Paris a relation of what had taken place.
The Directory, through Talleyrand, expressed themselves
well satisfied with “the courage, the judgment, and the
presence of mind which he had shown on the trying occa-
sion, and the magnanimity with which he had supported
the honour of the French name.” The Government then
offered him the embassy to Prussia; but he preferred
showing his gratitude for the confidence of his fellow-
citizens of Corsica by entering the legislative body of

310 ~ JOSEPH BONAPARTE,
France in their service. In January, 1798, he took his
seat in the Council of Five Hundred. He was there soon
distinguished for sound sense and moderation. On one
occasion, when, on a joint committee of the two Councils,
the Directory made an attack upon Napoleon, who was
absent in Egypt, Joseph addressed the body with so much
energy and conclusive argument that his accusers were
confounded, and a unanimous vote was obtained in his
favour. A few days after this occurrence, in June, 1798,
he was appointed Secretary of the Council of Five Hun-
dred. One who was well acquainted with him at the
time describes him as being “polite and affable, of a
cool and steady disposition, Sagacious, intrepid, and pecu-
liarly qualified for civil and diplomatic employments.”
Lucien says that Joseph possessed the esteem and friend-
ship of his colleagues, and it was supposed that, in concert
with Lucien, he prepared the return of Napoleon from
Egypt; and it is certain that by his influence and personal
exertions he contributed to the success of the Revolution
of the 18th Brumaire (9th November, 1799).
VII.
Under the Consulate, Joseph was made a member of
the Council of State, and in 1800 he was appointed by
Napoleon, with Messrs. Roéderer and De Fleurien, com-
missioners to conclude a treaty of peace and commerce
with the United States. The American commissioners
were Oliver Ellsworth, William Vans Murray, and Wil-
liam R. Davie. The treaty was signed, September 30th,
1800, at Mortefontaine, a villa which Joseph had recently
purchased; and he gave on the occasion of the completion
of the treaty a splendid entertainment to the American
ministers. º
The treaty between France and the United States satis-
factorily settled differences between the two nations which

TREATY WITH AMERICA, 311
had commenced under the Government of the Republic in
1793, when Mr. Genet was sent to the United States, as
Minister, and endeavoured to involve that country in a
war with England. It was natural that France should
desire an ally in the United States, in the way in which
she was engaged with other European powers; but the
American Government, under Washington and Adams,
steadily preserved its neutrality toward the belligerent
powers. Seizures of British property on board American
vessels were ordered by the French Government, and
many depredations on American commerce by French
armed vessels took place. The conduct of the French
Directory towards the United States was equally hostile
with their predecessors of the Convention, and various
decrees against neutrals and American commerce were
issued. Without an actual declaration of war, hostilities
existed for some time, on the ocean, between the two
nations. All attempts at negotiation had failed, until
President Adams resolved to send a special commission,
and the envoys embarked in October, 1799. Before their
arrival, the Revolution of the 18th Brumaire had occurred,
and they found the Consular Government, under Napoleon,
anxious for peace. Talleyrand informed the envoys that
they were expected with impatience, and would be received
with warmth. The three commissioners were received
by the First Consul in form, and, as we have stated,
Joseph Bonaparte, Roéderer, and De Fleurien were ap-
pointed to treat with them. It was not, however, until
the 2nd of April that the first conference was held, and
various delays took place, which protracted the negotiations
for nearly six months before their successful termination.
The principles of this treaty, as regarded the United
States, formed the basis of a confederacy, offensive and
defensive, entered into between France and the northern
powers in December, 1800, which was, in fact, the revival
312 . Joseph BonapaRTE.
of the armed neutrality of 1780, and was in pursuance of
the stedfast design, never after relinquished by Napoleon,
of crushing the maritime supremacy of Great Britian.
But the destruction of the French navy counteracted his
designs. Between France and the United States the
treaty, as one of mutual concessions, nominally remained
good; but the Berlin and Milan decrees subsequently
issued by Napoleon, in their effect upon American com-
merce, proved the counterpart of those of the Executive
Directory One of the American commissioners (Judge
Ellsworth), in a letter to Mr. Wolcott, dated Havre,
October 16, 1800, thus writes: “You will see our pro-
ceedings and their result. Be assured, more could not be
done without too great a sacrifice; and as the reign of
Jacobinism is over in France, and appearances are strong
in favour of a general peace, I hope you will think it
was better to sign than to do nothing.”
VIII,
Having displayed much diplomatic skill in the nego-
tiations with the United States, Joseph was placed on
another similar commission. On the 9th of February,
1801, he signed, with the Count de Coberzel, at Luneville,
the treaty between France and Austria; and it has been
remarked as a singular circumstance during that nego-
ºtiation, that although Mantua had been left in the hands
of the Austrians, by virtue of an armistice agreed upon
between the Commanders-in-Chief in Italy, a convention
concluded at Luneville by the plenipotentiaries put the
French army in possession of that important post. General
Moreau, the French Commander, in a letter to Joseph,
says, “Receive my compliments for the manner in which
you have besieged and taken Mantua, without quitting
Luneville.” §
The following year Joseph met with the like success,


TREATY OF AMIENS. . . 313
negotiating the Treaty of Amiens, by which peace was
concluded between France and England, March 25, 1802.
The First Consul on this occasion, says Thiers, “made
choice of his brother Joseph, for whom he had a very
particular affection, and who, by the amenity of his
manners and mildness of his character, was singularly
well adapted for a peace-maker, an office which had been
constantly reserved for him. Talleyrand, seeing all the
ostensible honour of these treaties devolve upon a per-
sonage who was nearly unacquainted with the arts of
diplomacy, was unable to repress a passing sense of his
vexation, though he made every effort to hide it. But
the cautious Minister well knew that it would be impolitic
to make the family of the First Consul his enemies.” .
It was agreed that the Plenipotentiaries should meet
in the city of Amiens, an intermediate point between
London and Paris, to draw up the definitive treaty. The
English Cabinet selected, to meet Joseph, Lord Corn-
wallis, the same who had commanded their armies in
America and India, and who had also been Governor-
General of Bengal and Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland. The
preliminaries had been negotiated by M. Otto and Lord
Hawkesbury, and signed at London on the 1st of October,
1801; and these different treaties, which completed the
peace of the world, were signed nearly at the same time.
The satisfaction of the public was unbounded , and grand
festivals to celebrate the event were given in Paris and
London on the 18th Brumaire (9th November), 1801.
IX.
The preliminaries of London had laid down the basis of
the peace; but, until the conclusion of a definitive treaty,
apprehensions were entertained that the negotiations
might be broken off. Lord Cornwallis arrived in Paris
in November, and soon proceeded to Amiens. The nego-


314 JOSEPH BONAPARTE.
tiations being opened, the British Cabinet made new
demands, with which they instructed Lord Cornwallis.
Delays ensued; but the First Consul impressed fresh acti-
vity upon the envoys. He wrote to his brother, “Sign : .
for since the preliminaries are agreed upon, there is no
more any serious question to debate.” He conceded what
he thought should be conceded, and firmly refused the
rest. After having sent his answer to his brother, with
ample liberty as to the settlement, in regard to the manner
of drawing up, he recommended Joseph to act with great
prudence, in order to have a sufficient proof that the .
refusal to sign the peace came from England, and not from
him. He caused it to be intimated, whether in London
or at Amiens, that if they would not accept what he pro-
posed, they ought to terminate the affair. A rupture was
not wished for in London. The English Cabinet felt that
they would be subject to the ridicule of the world if a
truce of six months, following the preliminaries, had only
served to open the sea to the French fleets, Lord Corn-
wallis was highly conciliatory in the drawing up of the
treaty. Joseph Bonaparte was not less so ; and on the
25th of March, 1802, the peace between France and
Great Britain was signed (says Thiers) “upon an instru-
ment marked with all sorts of corrections. The two
Plenipotentiaries cordially embraced each other, amid the
acclamations of those present, full of emotion and trans-
ported with joy. Lord Cornwallis heard his name blessed
by the French people, and Joseph entered his house
hearing on all sides the cry of ‘Vive Bonaparte.” Unfor-
tunately, this peace, the most noble and most glorious for
France that her annals can show, was but temporary.
The renewal of the war between the two nations took
place in May, 1803. How very different had their desti-
nies been, if, as the First Consul said, “ these two Powers,
the one maritime and the other continental, had been in

%
CONTEMPLATION OF THE EMPIRE, 3.15.
complete and perfect union, for the purpose of regulating
in peace the interests of the universe ! General civilisation
would have made more rapid strides, their future inde-
pendence would have been regularly assured, and the two
nations would not have prepared a domination for the
north over a divided west. Such was the melancholy
termination of the short peace of Amiens.”
X.
Whilst engaged in diplomatic matters, Joseph was the
first to suggest a plan of concert among the contracting
parties, France, England, Spain, and Holland, for the sup-
pression of that system of rapine and piracy whereby, to
the disgrace of the great Powers of Christendom, the
smaller European States were annoyed by the corsairs of
Barbary. This liberal project was communicated in a
letter to the First Consul, by whom it was adopted.
When Napoleon desired, as the people afterwards willed,
a prolongation of his power, by being made First Consul
for life, he did not discover the secret ambition of his heart
to his brothers; but it was so easy to guess, and his family
were so anxious to bring it about successfully, that they
spared him the trouble to be the first to declare it. They
asserted to him that the moment was come in which to
constitute himself something better than an ephemeral
and fleeting power, that he ought to think of attaching
to himself a solid and durable authority. Joseph, with
the peaceable mildness of his character, and Lucien, with
his natural petulance, openly urged the same point. They
had for confidants and co-operators the men with whom
they lived in intimacy, in the Council of State or in the
Senate. The amendment to the Consular Constitution
having been adopted in 1802, an arrangement was devised
to please the brothers of the First Consul by an intro-
duction of a clause into the organic articles. The law of



316 Joseph BonAPARTE.
the Tegion of Honour enacted that the members of the
Grand Council of the Legion should be composed of three
consuls, and one representative from each of the great
bodies of the State. The Council of State nominated
Joseph to this post, and the Tribunate named Lucien. A
disposition of this Senatus Consultum declared that the
members of the Grand Council of the Legion of Honour
should be Senators by right. The two brothers of Napo-
leon were thus principals in that noble institution, charged
with the distribution of all the recompenses; and, as
members of the Senate, they of course possessed great
influence in that body.
: XI.
The Concordat with the Court of Rome was signed at
the house of Joseph on the 15th of July, 1801, by those
whom the First Consul had designated as Plenipoten-
tiaries on the part of France, viz.: Joseph ; the Abbé
Bernier, afterwards Bishop of Orleans; and by the
Minister of the Interior, Cretet. The Cardinals Gonsalvi,
M. Spina, and Father Caselli, signed on behalf of the
Pope. They met together informally at Joseph's resi-
dence, examined the documents, and concluded this great
treaty, the most important that the Court of Rome had
ever made with France, or perhaps with any Christian
power ; because it terminated one of the most frightful
tempests that the Catholic religion had ever encountered,
Nearly at the same time, the Treaty of Guarantee was
signed with Austria, Russia, Prussia, and Bavaria, which
recognised and confirmed the various political changes
that had taken place in the Germanic Empire. In this
negotiation also, Joseph was invested with the full power
of France. . .
The superb villa of Joseph, in the vicinity of Paris,
where important treaties were negotiated, was the seat of
TRAIT OF PERSONAL CHARACTER, 317
refined hospitality and domestic happiness. The follow-
ing sketch from one of the most celebrated French writers
is interesting, as affording testimony of a high character
in favour of the subject of this personal history. It is
taken from the preface to the grand folio edition of Ber-
nardin de St. Pierre's immortal romance of “Paul and
Virginia.” What renders this homage to the merits of
Joseph by St. Pierre still more valuable is, that the
author openly professed republican doctrines.
“About a year and a half ago (1804),” says St. Pierre,
“I was invited by one of the subscribers to the fine
edition of ‘Paul and Virginia' to come and see him at his
country-house. He was a young father of a family,
whose physiognomy announced the qualities of his mind.
He united in himself everything which distinguishes a
son, a brother, a husband, a father, and a friend to
humanity. He took me in private, and said, “My for-
tune, which I owe to the nation, affords me the means of
being useful ; add to my happiness by giving me an
opportunity of contributing to your own.” This philo-
sopher, so worthy of a throne, if any throne was worthy
of him, was Prince Joseph Napoleon Bonaparte.”
XII.
The camp at Boulogne, at first intended for the invasion
of England, was formed in 1804. Napoleon invited
Joseph to take part in that expedition. He accepted the
command of a regiment, and repaired to the camp, where
he contributed his full share to the spirit of concord and
union which so remarkably distinguished that large body.
of officers, whose opinions and prejudices upon most sub-
jects were far from harmonious. But Joseph was soon to
be summoned to a more exalted sphere of action; and the
residue of his public life was passed in the midst of those
striking revolutions which characterised the career of


318 Joseph BONAPARTE.
Napoleon when he became the dispenser of thrones and
the arbiter of nations. -
The senate and people of France, on calling Napoleon
to the Empire in November, 1804, declared Joseph and
his children heirs of the throne, on failure of Napoleon's
issue. In the same year the crown of Lombardy was
offered to him. Declining, however, to renounce the
political bonds which attached him to France, or to enter
into engagements which appeared to press hard upon
Lombardy, he refused it. During the campaign of Auster-
litz, he remained in the direction of affairs confided to
him at Paris. A few days after that battle, he received
orders from the Emperor to proceed to Italy and assume
the command of the army destined to invade the kingdom
of Naples. -
XIII.
The Neapolitan forces had been augmented by fourteen
thousand Russian, and several thousand English aux-
iliaries. At the head of forty thousand French troops,
Joseph entered that kingdom in February, 1806, and ar-
rived before Capua, which city, after making a show of re-
sistance, opened its gates. Eight thousand prisoners sur-
rendered to the conquerors. The English and Russians
effected a retreat, and King Ferdinand embarked for
Sicily. He had created a Regency, who immediately
entered into stipulations with Joseph for the surrender to
the French of the capital and all the fortified posts. The
siege of the fortress of Gaeta, which resisted, was begun,
and General Regnier pursued the retreating Neapolitan
army, which he overtook and defeated. -
Joseph made his triumphant entry into Naples the
15th of February, 1806, and was received with open arms
by the people as their deliverer from the despotic rule of
the Bourbons. He retained, however, in public stations,
those who were commended to his favour. He organised



ELECTED TO THE THRONE OF NAPLEs. 319
a provisional administration at the capital, and made a
personal examination into the state of the kingdom , in-
quiring also into the feasibility of an attempt upon Sicily.
He commenced a tour, attended by a corps d’élite under
the command of General Lamarque ; thus informing him-
self of the character, peculiarities and wants of the country
and its inhabitants. He halted in all the villages, and
entered the principal churches, where the clergy so often
assembled the people. The condition to which the country
was reduced favoured his views in this investigation.
Beneath the most enchanting sky, in the shade of the
orange and the myrtle, he found the population in rags,
and wore down by poverty and starvation, prostrated on
the luxurious soil from which moderate industry might
with ease obtain ample support—uttering the most abject
applications for charity and compassion. Nor was it diffi-
cult to perceive that these unhappy beings entertained
the most absolute indifference as to political changes,
owing to the conviction that whatever the result of the
new order of things then announced to them might be,
their own situation could by no possibility be rendered
worse. So far had their former rulers been successful in
desolating this fine country, and counteracting the bounties
of Providence. 3 * , x
. XIV. . .
It was during this journey that Joseph first received
intelligence that the Emperor Napoleon had made him
King of Naples, and that the other European continental
sovereigns were disposed to do the same, within a short
period. On his arrival at Palma, at the entrance of the
Straits of Messina, he was forced to admit the impossibility
of an expedition against Sicily. King Ferdinand had
concentrated his forces there, and carried off with him all
the means of transportation, even the smallest boats.
Thus compelled to postpone the attempt upon Sicily,

320 JOSEPH BONAPARTE.
Joseph continued his journey across that Magna Groecia,
once so celebrated and flourishing—then so humbled and
degraded. His course led him along the shores of the
Ionian Sea, through Catanzara, Cotroni, and Cassano. It
Was during this progress that h l an examination to
be made by engineers into the practicability of a project
long since conceived, of uniting the Ionian and Tyrrhenian
Seas by a canal. Plans were drawn which might after-
wards serve for use in that enterprise. He visited
Tarentum and other parts of the kingdom, and returned
to the capital, where he was awaited by a deputation
from the French Senate, appointed to offer the congratu-
lations of that body on his accession to the throne of
Naples, and express the hope of his still retaining the
dignities of Grand Elector and Prince of France. One of
the deputation, Count Roéderer, accepted the department
of Finance, at Naples, tendered him by Joseph, and skil-
fully availing himself of his aid and counselin re-organising
the fiscal affairs of the kingdom on a new basis, established
a public credit which has maintained itself under all the
changes that have subsequently occurred. Marshal Jour-
dan was retained in the office of Governor of Naples,
to which he had been appointed by Napoleon,
Congratulations were tendered to the new monarch by
all classes of his subjects. The clergy, led by Cardinal
Ruffo, the nobility, and the people vied with each other
in celebrating his arrival among them. The provinces
united with the capital in expressing their satisfaction at
the change of government. -
XV.
The talents for Joseph for executive power were shown
in the formation of his administration. He appointed a
Council of State, composed of men in the choice of whom
he was guided by public opinion, without distinction of



were generally men who had been distinguished for
leir abilities in the National Assemblies of France. Such
modifications and improvements as had been suggested by
is unreserved conversations with men of all classes were
marked out for accomplishment in proper time. He held
up to his Council of State as a model the French Revolu-
tion, but cautioned them to avoid its evils while they
improved upon the changes it had introduced. Upon all
he enjoined strict justice and moderation, as the only true
guides to the happiness of nations,
xvi.
But while projecting and attending to these salutary
. le fortress of Gaeta kept a portion of the army
an English squadron was hovering on the
e Neapolitan troops, although beaten and dis-
--> º .
persed, formed themselves into numerous bands, which
infested and pillaged the country. The Sicilian court had
instigated the landing of an English army at the Gulf of
St. Euphemia, where part of the army of Joseph, com-
manded by Regnier, chiefly composed of Poles, was beaten .
—an occurrence which for a time fomented partial insur.
rections. Joseph concentrated the requisite means for
reducing Gaeta, and in person superintended an attack
upon that fortress, where he was assisted by the French
army under Marshal Massena. The garrison of Gaeta, con-
sisting of seven thousand men, capitulated, and Massena
marched on Calabria, whence the English, on his approach,
retired to Sicily, Massena then joined the army of
Germany, and King Joseph appointed General Regnier to
the government of Calabria. That officer defeated a body






















six thousand Neapolitan troops which ha
Sicily. Various other successes attended
Joseph, and affairs began to assume a m
The chiefs of the most active b §
tempts to assassinate the new king had proved ab
§ The National Guards, which had bee .
all the provinces under the command of the ealthiest
proprietors, who had all espoused the new regi
tributed to extinguish the flame of revolt, and to
the tranquillity of the country, as soon as the
masses of his enemies had been beaten an
the army of King Joseph. --------------------------.
XVII, ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Before returning to Naples, the King renewed his visit
to the provinces, and persevered in the same course of
inquiry and inspection as on the former occasion. .
ing freely with the inhabitants, he interrogated them as
to their desires and wants, inquired into abuses, called
unfaithful functionaries to a severe account, and by th
strict impartiality he maintained, as well .
interest he exhibited in the welfare of his subje
universal confidence, and secured a peaceful
their hearts and affections. On developing hi
reform to the Councillors of State on his a
capital, Joseph found little difficulty in per
intelligent Ministry that the individual good
was to be obtained by amelioratin . &:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
whole. Few instances on record more strik emplify
the power of reason over the mind bigoted
than the events of this revolution. The principal nobles
of the kingdom were among th b to applauſ
sustain the projects of reform, thus, feudal rights w
abolished with their free consent, and the most enlighte
prelates, also members of the Council of State,












































Joseph BONAPARTE.
. The hospitals established at this period were e
domains; the public debt was chiefly paid off, and its
ºxIX.º.
he city of Naples, which had been wretchedly lighted,
was, in the second year of Joseph's reign, completely
lighted, in the style of the city of Paris, with reflectors,
. rere endowed
out of the national funds, and the nobility received º
indemnity for the feudal rights they had surrendered, in
certificates, which were taken in payment for the nationa
entire discharge secured by the creation and endowment
of a sinking fund; a loan negotiated in Holland was
guaranteed, and its repayment assured in national cer-
tificates. :::::::... .
A Royal Academy, consisting of a body of learned
men, divided into four classes, was established; in this
institution, those of Herculaneum and Pompeii were
merged. Painting, music, and other branches of the fine
arts were encouraged. The Academy of Painting soon
numbered twelve hundred pupils. In honour of t
national poet, the King made a formal visit to the h
in which Tasso was born, at Sorrento, a town w
only be reached on horseback, by a road passin
the brink of a precipice, Joseph directed a colle
be made of all the editions of this celebrated poet
be deposited in the house, under the care of his nearest
lineal descendant, to whom he granted an office under
Government. And to facilitate visits to this shrine of
genius, he directed a convenient road to be opened.
A vast district in Apulia, called “Tavoliere di Puglia,”
belonging to the Crown, had been withheld from culture,
and devoted to the pasturage of cattle and sheep, under a
system by which Government derived an annual income
from it. The Council of State, at the suggestion of
Joseph, caused this fertile and extensive territory to be



























hus brought into luxuriant cultivation
the great benefit of the public
y life, the King presented lands to many
. àº.
tural establishment or model farm. At the same
influenced the nobles to re-establish their nt :
es, and urged them to hold themselves forth as
ors of the country and friends to the poor.
former Government, the most rigid etiqu
iled at the palace. The sovereign (of the Hou
was accessible only to a very small numb §
favourites. Joseph, on the contrary, threw open his
e to the nobility, to his Ministers, to the Councillors
ate, the members of the tribunals, the municipality
of Naples, and officers of the higher grades. From their
families he daily selected the guests of his table. It was
thus that he gained an influence over the minds and
rts of all classes of society, and the greatest changes
W. re peacefully effected. . ---------
--------------------------------------------------> XXI, .
Joseph presided in person at the meetings of the Council
of State; and although at that period no regular const
tio ed in Naples, and his will was supreme, yet the
instance was not found in which he adopted a decree
unless approved by a majority of votes in the Cou .
after a discussion in which uncontrolled liberty of debate
was allowed. Speaking Italian with facility, he availed








































When Joseph arrived in Naples, the revenues o
the departments of government were crowned
*xºr ††iº
been
. dom did not exceed seven millions of ducats; they . º
millions. The public debt, which was one hundred
millions, was reduced to fifty millions, and the
ascertained and secured for the extinguishment of
balance. His efforts at reform and improvement in
entire success; and every species of nation
vidual prosperity was opening on Naples
perspective, when the will of Providence removed him
to a different scene, where greater exertions and sacri-
fices were demanded, and where, had he met with no
fewer obstacles than he had encountered in Naples, he
would in all probability have succeeded in regen
another peninsula, also one of the fairest portions
Europe,
. ºxx II, §
It is interesting here to sum up the administrat
Joseph in Naples in the words of General Lamarque,
who had been in his military service during this portion
of his career. The letter from which we §
extract was written by the General to Josep §
latter was in exile in America, and is dated Paris, March
27, 1824.
“You do well to devote some time to your M.
It appears to me that the most interesting part is that o
your reign in Naples. You there realised that which



























ical liberty, you endea-
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: e enjoy all the benefit of that
al administration which you considered to be the
ion of all institutions,
der your administration, too short for a nation by
were s h regretted, feudalism was de-
ellished; the army and navy
evacuated by the English ; Gaet
Colletta in his History of the Realm of Naples–
universal and voluntary recognition of the new
. Joseph, flowed from no gratitude to him, for
had not yet sat upon the throne; nor from hopes
spired because he was a conquerer, but from the enchant-
of fortune and power. He took up the royal
ons king in everything but the name, styling him-
his edicts, “French Prince,’ ‘ Grand Elector of the
e, and ‘Commander-in-Chief of the Navy of Naples.’
His first edict was the proclamation of the Emperor
Napoleon, who, from the field of Schoenbrunn, flushed
with victory and burning with revenge, said—Soldiers
For ten years I have done everything to save the King
of Naples—he has done everything to destroy hims
After the battles of Dego, Mondovi, and Lodi, he
Yut feeble resistance; confiding in his promi
to him. The second confederation against
be was broken at Marengo: the King of Naples, who














































Joseph BonAPARTE.
º com mended himself to
generous: I recognised the neutrality of Nap
quired your departure from that kingdom, and
third time the House of the Bourbons was confir
had fomented that unjust war, left without allies, with
defence, and abandoned in the Treaties of Lune
& . to me, although an enemy, a
doned him a second time. A few months ago,
you were before the gates of Naples, I suspec
treacheries from that court, and could have defeate
sm while I took vengeance for old ones. But I w
the throne and saved. Shall we pardon the fourth time?
Shall we confide again in a court, without faith, without
honour, and without sense? No, no ; the House of §
has ceased to reign—its existence is incompatib tºur
repose of Europe and the honour of my crown. Soldie
advance 1 Overwhelm in the waves, if they have ::::::::::::::::
courage to await you, the weak battalions of the tyrant of
the seas. Show to the world how we punish perjured faith.
Haste to tell me that Italy is governed by my laws and by
my colleagues; that the most beautiful country on the earth
is freed from the yoke of the most perfidious of men; that
the sacredness of treaties is vindicated ; that the shades
of my brave soldiers, returned from Egypt, escaped from
the dangers of the sea, of the deserts, and of battle-fields,
st
but cruelly butchered in the ports of Sicily, are
appeased. Soldiers my brother is with you
of my thoughts and my authority ; he has m
—give him yours. The style of the proclam
the power of him who wrote it, reassured t 2::-------------------
Farther on in his valuable work Colletta says—"But












































eficent institutions. The cabinet was re-organised;
ministry of foreign affairs was confided to the Mar-
of Gallo, who had been ambassador of King Ferdi-
at the court of France. The rapid transition from
not then prepared for the most liberal institu-
rals are more necessary than laws to make a
efree. Nor does liberty advance by strides of revolu-
but through grades of civilisation; and that legis-
rise who prepares the steps for its advancer
her than he who thrusts society towards an ideal good,
which the conceptions of the popular mind and the
of the heart and the habits of society are
We confess and we hope. Addicted to little progress,
will do for us. Italians: we are too enlightened,
the same time not enlightened enough, for enter-
fliber y.” ... ------------------- º
We have glanced at events in the provinces of Calabria. §
In the meantime, at Naples, the financial administration
ised, public instruction was improved, feudalism
estroyed, the rights of primogeniture were abolis
he Crown lands were divided, the t §
fied, and many other beneficent changes were effected
Feudalism—which arose in conquest—monarchy, th
semi-civilisation of nations, and the natural pride of
existed also in the two Sicilies, as it had taken root
the rest of Europe. The advent of the Napoleon pov
. put an en to it in Sicily for ever,






















































Jampanella to be put to the torture, and of
Instruction was not public, it was not diffused : a b
policy was in the ascendant. This unhappy error
existed for centuries; and we trace its malign in
through all the vicissitudes of Italian letters do
. period of the accession of Joseph. §
To correct these evils other laws were enacted in 1806,
prescribing that every city and village should have rs
of both sexes for boys and girls to learn reading, iº
the art of enumeration, and the duties of citizen
every province should have a college for males and an
institution for the other sex; that they should be taught
some of the primary sciences, the fine arts, .
occupations of cultivated society; and that
city of the kingdom there should flourish a by for
high and liberal studies—a culminating p of public
instruction. Other laws established special schools—a
royal polytechnic academy, one for the fine arts, one
for the mechanic arts, one for the deaf and dumb, one for
naval science, one for the arts of design, a society o
surgery, of medicine, and another of music. Some of these
foundations were new, and others improved; b y
were all endowed by the public treasury. The seminaries




























d to its
wº decree ins
academy of history,
tiewards an vileges were bestow
cademies called “d’Incorraggiment §
The advantages of this system of public i
hadowed out,” says Colletta,
gation of intelligence through all ranks, so t
ius tue should remain obscur
show itself. The privilege of birth disa
peared; for there were lodged in the same colle
highest and the lowest of society, the sons of p
and the sons of peasants. Letters were protected,
ied, academies and lyceums were abunda
. The learned were venerated and nobly sus.
but not enriched; for the excessive favours c
3. advantageous to them, are fatal
erty of writing, entire property of copyright, are
uragements and aliment of men of genius
ore or less, is only hurtful.”
xxvi.
amusement or to visit the provinces, Jos
left the city. Over the ruins o *:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::---------
-“Thus, too, in the revolution of centuries, the
monuments of the Emperor Napoleon will be buried.” .
He visited, in Sorrento, the house of Tasso, and, struck














































#:
º public counc
i placed those th
i. He invited the chief men
and, by their vote, faithful officer
were odious, and the guilty were punished. He sent
back to France one of his own generals, displaced an
more unsatisfact, rilythan
The legislation and edicts of past ages constitute
chaos of jurisprudence, if it be worth the name, and
mass of absurdity. Joseph announced and caused to
completed for the kingdom of Naples a new code, whi
corresponded in some measure and in kind with
stupendous code of Napoleon. When it w
was reduced to practice, a magnificent spe
exhibited throughout the kingdom—ar a Žsº
higher magistracies in the chief pla
causes were commenced and finished o
ment and judges stood by the interests of the peo
- despotic practices were suspended; hang º:
the tribunals were banished; and deception
tions, and torture, both of witnesses and
were prohibited. And thus the immense mass š.
of ancient jurisprudence, the fruits of eighteen centuries
of Italian miseries, political co
wars, desolating conquests, invasions
2--------- the haughtiness f the great, the sel











































::::::: ;:::::::: , when the laws were changed, it
was an act of power, now it became one of reason; once
the State domineered, now it governed; once it demanded
only obedience, now it sought the appreciation and favour .
of the people. Hence, in past times, even when juris-
prudence happened to be perfect, it was but an instru-º
ment of quiet and of justice—from our times we see
that it is destined to be in the future an instrument
of high civilisation. At last, Joseph was .
moned to France, and when he left, the manne
departure indicated he was not to return. A
later, in an edict from Bayonne, he announced
had been called by the providence of God to the throne
of Spain and the Indies; that he left us with grief; th
he seemed to have done little that he had contemp
or the good of the state, great as had been his cares
the efforts of his government ; that he left, as a monu-
ment of his love, a political statute confirming the good
effected by his means, and designed to produce still more
beneficent changes.”
º ; . § º § ºxxvii. ; º
In the meantime, error and not wisdom, disdain and
not counsel, prevented the Neapolitans from carrying into
effect the constitution which Joseph had left them ; for
the hundred notables, assembled in Parliament, made a
irtue of talk only in favour of the people; but the spirit
umerous assemblies, wherever they mi
the spirit of the times, Centuries of feudalism, of m
cipal liberty, of Papacy, and of the Crusaders, tes
Hence, had the Italians better understood their age
would have found in the constitution which Joseph
them from Bayonne a check on despotism. Such



















































natures were ever helped by exampl
viou . . ples. Wh
rere to leave, the great officers of the Crown
ters and Councillors of State, the municip §
enerals, magistrates, societies and academies, crowded
urt, t . —it was the
. to offer their auguries of felici
Queen of Spain who was leaving. Jourd
it was followed by ambassadors of fore
a numerous cortège. A immense crowd
creased the magnificence of the spectacle
this vast multitude had been drawn tog
distinguished personages, took leave of the Queen o
the frontier of the kingdom. Three ladies of high
knight, and a prince, accompanied the Queen to the
her journey, and returned enriched by munificent
These pageants recall the often unhappy fate of the f
Queens of Naples. They were all born of powerful races,
while Julie Clary, wife of King Joseph, was born at
Marseilles, the daughter of an honourable merchant,
Misfortune waited even on her, for after a brie ;
she fell from the throne; but she preserved her
and her innocence. In these freaks and lac
fate one might perceive lessons to human
end
ations of
haughty
second of
July the edict of Joseph was publi cing his
accession to his new kingdom, which he called a burden
and such he found it.”
Colletta thus sums up in the History of t
Joseph the character of the King. “Learned, and a



























letters; ignorant
French and modern
ters, and, if they increased,
in prosperity, as he was neither
spicion, encomiastic of simplicity
f pleasures and royal dissolute-
ation, and honest also in his
it; fond of stately living,
1 annu uvy io his brother the Emperor, and
herefore fully equal to the office of
that of a new one, Joseph
ts possessors, the humbling of the Pap
ment of equality among citizens, the scienc
holars venerated, and civilisation adva
see the new civilisation advancing thr
», although opposed by the partisans of the old
* constitutional governments of being timid c
in the management of mankind; while the sam
ion is growing like the oak in the forest, whic
dies because it is stripped of its leaves by
n winter, nor is shorn of its limbs by the a ::::::::::::::
nderbolt, since it preserves in its own nature the
h received a pressing in §
leet him at Bayonne, whither the Empero
ſune, 1808, to meet the Spanish º
an interview held with Napoleon some months previous,
enice, during the Emperor's journey to Italy in th
of the year 1807, Joseph had been made a
h the feuds which distracted the reignin

fficulty ; for that the former refus
without his favourite, Godoy, the Prince of
that otherwise he preferred retirement in Fran
Godoy had neither talents nor disposition,
anish nation happy,
return of Charles, if he was determined to res
reign of Godoy, and that they uld
stranger to him; that he (Napoleon) percei
would cost him a greater effort to sust
Godoy, than to change the dynasty;
tion of Spain was practicable while the Bour
continued ; that the first personages of the kingdo
Junta at Bayonne, were convinced of t ---------
since destiny pointed out this course, and he then felt
assured of accomplishing what he would not have volun-
tarily undertaken, he had nominated his brothe inor
of Naples, who was acceptable to the Junt
so to the nation at large.
h
ºš ledge of that I §7.












































sitate, lest the Spaniards, as
irchs, might suppose that he (Napo-
wished to encircle his own brows with this addi-
nal crown, as he had with that of Lombardy some years
e, upon the refusal of Joseph to accept it.
While Joseph still hesitated, arguments of a different
racter were urged by Napoleon, who observed to him
his compliance would produce a reconciliation among
members of their own family; for in that case he
sed to place Lucien on the throne of Naples,
. de an attempt, in June, 1807, to restore har
between Napoleon and Lucien, but no accommodati
from their interview, which was arranged
In March, or April, 1808, Napoleon had pro-
his brother Louis to retire from the throne of
----------------- d and accept the crown of Spain; but Louis declined
the offer.) Napoleon finally appealed to more elevated
feelings; he pointed out the glory Joseph would derive
from restoring a great people like Spain to her rank
g nations, by a course of policy compatible with the
htened spirit of the age, and which his own good
º conversation contained matter for the serious
reflection of Joseph; but when he arrived at Bayon
the members of the Junta were all assembled at the ch
teau of Marrac. He was obliged to receive their addresse
to which he returned indefinite answers, still postp
. in. On the following day he had intervi
del Infantado, and Cevallos, who
ke














































garded as the warmest partisans of Ferdina,
e observed that the intelligence he had receiv
ents at Naples satisfied him that if Josep
facility which existed for their suppression. All exp
their anxious hopes that he would accept the crown
thereby restore tranquillity and prosperity to
country, which had already, at Saragossa, and
the provinces, been whelmed in commotion, in
of a belief that Napoleon was seeking to
France.
throne of Naples to ascend that of Spain, appeare
all parties, yielded his own wishes and interests
the throne which was offered to him, and the post where
the greatest peril existed. Duty, not ambition, conducte
him to Spain. But he would not surrender the
of Naples until he had obtained the gua
Emperor Napoleon that the institutions h
Joseph, thus assured that he alone, by sacri
should be made permanent. Joseph then § ź
crown of Naples, June, 1808, having reigned in that king-
dom a little over two years. He was succeeded a few
The decree of Napoleon, by which
3?.
































king Ferdinand, too, wrote him letters of .
on, and solicited him to induce Napoleontogi
ces in marriage. The oath of allegia
who were with Ferdinand in Fran
hese letters,
erated at the events of
part of the royal family was r

course under the necessity ofaccompanying them ; and he
ft Madrid ten days after he had entered it, directing the
Minister of Justice, Pinuella, Cevallos, and th
Infantado to ascertain the feelings of the
Spanish army who had conquered at Baylen.
disaster which befel the French army at that pla
ral Junot had been compelled to capitulat
and thus left the English and Portuguese forces
The Spaniards flocked in from all quarters ag
French army, which was unable to resume offensi
tions until the month of November.
xxxiv.
The battles of Tudela, Burgos, and Sommo Si
which the Spanish armies were beaten and disp
opened again the gates of Madrid. Napoleon had h
to the seat of war, and joined Joseph at his he
at Vittoria, and directed the movements (
army, in November, 1808. The march of t
army to Gallicia, and the threatening aspec
Austria, soon summoned the Emperor away, and he
Spain in January, 1809, intrusting to Joseph the cor
of the French forces in his kingdom, §
Madrid with the French army commanded by General
Belliau, which took possession of he
December. Napoleon issued a proclam: §
his desire to be the regenerator of th
But in case his mild and 1
again refused, he declared










































a place his brother on another throne.
case (said he in this document) set the
n my own head, and I shall know how
it respected; for God has given me the power
will to surmount all difficulties.”
ph returned to Madrid the 22nd of January, 1809,
med a Ministry and Council of State, the members
ch he selected with entire deference to public
internal improvement, promoted enterprise, an
id and countenance to national industry in i
s departments,
3 earliest military occurrences of his reign were also
. Saragossa surrendered to Marshal Lannes;
Marshal Victor was victorious at Medelin; and Joseph
himself, at the head of his guard and a division of the
army, drove the army of Venegas beyond the
Morena. But this state of things soon underwent
A British army, under Wellesley (afterward
llington), advanced from Portugal; a Por
y, under Marshal Beresford, marched on th
º; and the main Spanish army, under Genera
ossed the Tagus, at Almanez, to form a junctio








































rustrate the intention of the a
oncentrate their forces, Joseph resolved
t a distance from Madrid. He advance
isposable force, the French troops being under t &:::::::::::::
ind of Marshal Victor. The Spaniards, however, suc-
ded in forming a junction with the English at
double that of the French, but the latter dete
an attack, and a bloody action ensued. 2:----
evacuated by the Spaniards, but the Briti op
their position. Yet, upon the whole, the result
checked, and Joseph having made a rapid move
the Val de Moro, the Spanish army of Venegas
had crossed the Tagus, now abandoned its desig
Madrid, and retired The army of Venegas,
thousand strong, was subsequently, on the 4th of
attacked at Almonacid, dispersed and destroyed
French under Marshal Jourdan.
xxxvii.
Other successes favourable to the cause of Joseph fo
lowed. Having returned to Madrid he receive
gence that fifty thousand Spaniards had en
Mancha ; he marched against them and defe
at Ocana. In other parts of Spain, th
manders had been successful, and Joseph de
profit by these smiles of fortune. At the he

seph pledged himself, without reserve,
§ English evacuated the Peninsula, the
rmies should also leave it, and that he would
n their steps, unless retained by the sincere wishes
he nation, when enlightened as to its true interests.
stated that the nation could never enjoy a greater
rty than the King wished it to possess, inas-
el himself truly her King until
, and delivered from the presence of
to assemble immediately a Cortes at Gren
the various influential classes should be re
To this national assembly he would submi
uestion to discuss, namely, “Do we or do we
accept the constitution and the king offered to us by
Junta of Bayonne?” If the negative was pronounce
Joseph would leave Spain, as he was determined to reign,
all, by the consent of the people.
nate the Spaniards from his government
d that France should continue to provide for the
encies of her troops. At this time a measure was










































adopted by Napoleon which was at variance
line of policy pursued by Joseph. By an imperial d
military governments were established in the 1 ges or
Spain, and French generals were placed at the head of
these administrative juntas, and the Spanish intendant
was reduced to the position of secretary. By a decree,
sued in February, 1810, by the French Emperor, the
p vinces of Catalonia, Arragon, Biscay, and Nav
were organised into four distinct governments, and
military government of each was charged with the e
direction of its affairs. In a letter to the French
bassador at Madrid, the Duke de Cadore, Napol .
Secretary, thus explained his purpose. “The intention
of the Emperor is to unite to France the whole left bank
of the Ebro, and, perhaps, as far as the Douro. One of
the objects of the present decree is to prepare for that
annexation; and you will take care, without letting fall
a hint of the Emperor's designs, to pave the way for such
change, and facilitate all the measures which his Maj .
may take to carry into execution.”
xxxix. §
The state of things produced by these decrees could
not fail to destroy all the good effects in Joseph's favour
of the successful campaign of Andalusia, in 1810, a cam-
paign planned and executed by the King himself, with
the co-operation of Marshal Soult, the Duke of Dalma-
tia, who commanded the French army in this part of
Spain, Abandoning now all hopes of bringing about
the surrender of Cadiz, by the conciliatory measures he
had employed, Joseph left the army of Soult, and visited
the eastern part of Andalusia. In the course of this
§ journey, he expressed to the deputations from Grenada,
Jaen, and Malaga, his firm resolution never to consent to


































mberment of the Spanish territory, or to an
whatever of national independence.
XL.
s return to Seville, the King issued decrees pre-
g territorial divisions, organising the civil adminis-
within these districts, and directing the formation
tional Guards He returned to Madrid in June,
10, after an absence of five months.
he solicitude of Joseph respecting the decrees and in-
is of Napoleon was so much awakened by the in-
ion which had transpired that, to avert the stroke
is possible, he despatched M. Aranza, an abl
zealous for the interests of his cou
der the pretence of congratulating his br
marriage with Maria Louisa, in the spring of
having instructions to ascertain the views of th
eror, and to expostulate against measures injur
to Spain, found on his arrival at Paris that the expens
of the war in Spain was the great subject of complain
with the French Cabinet. The Duke de Cadore declare
that it was the wish of the Emperor to demand, as hi
right, indemnities in the shape of territory Ara
pleaded for the integrity of Spain, and urged the obliga-
tion of the Emperor to sustain his brother on the throne
where he had placed him. He was told that King Joseph
would do well to remember that Ferdinand, who was then
in the power of the Emperor, would make no scruple t
cede the required provinces if acknowledged as kin
Ar za returned, downcast, to Madrid.
Another decree was issued by the Emperor, May 2:
forming two additional military governments, and
ith the former ones, embracing the whole territory no
of the Douro. To Marshal Soult, by another deeree, w













































s south of the Sierra Morena.
§ ºx.E.I. ś
uch was the destitution to which the court of Ma-
was reduced at the close of 1810, that in January,
Joseph intimated to Napoleon t § .
ls intercepted his revenues, disregarded his
ulted his Government, and oppressed and ruined
ntry. Although he would never oppos mpe-
s will, he declared he would not live a degraded
king, and therefore he was ready to resign, unless the
Emperor would remedy the evils of which he
Napoleon interposed so far as to afford partial
ficient relief Joseph, therefore (May, 1811), set o
Paris, with his resignation prepared to lay befo
brother. The Emperor induced him to return to
by the positive assurance that the military gove
should soon cease, stating that the system had
wrought a good effect upon the English Governmen
offered to withdraw their army from Portugal,
French troops would evacuate Spain. England
also recognise King Joseph if the Spanish natio
and if France would consent to recogni H
of Braganza in Portugal. The different military dis-
tricts were to be placed under the command of Joseph,
the Cortes convened, and the French armies te
Spain, as soon as the King was satisfied tha š
was no longer necessary. The army of t
to be placed under the control of the Ki
million of francs monthly was to be paid hi
treasury of France toward the support of hi
: In the hope of a successful ssue § ºš:::::::::::::::::::::
with England, and of the faithful execution of the pro-





































antee of the Emperor, Joseph returned to
§ ºxº 1), and had every reason to be grati-
fied with his reception.
Our limits do not permit us to dwell on the events of
ar which followed his return to his capital. Mar-
ſassena, who had entered Portugal at the head of a
in of the French army, 75,000 strong, after taking
several regiments of the line were recalled to France. All
hopes of a negotiation with England had vanished; par-
tial insurrections multiplied; new guerillas were formed,
who were subsidised by the English and fostered by the






















was the gloomy state of affairs, when King Joseph
sed the following letter to Napoleon —
§ Mad d, March 23, 1812
THE EMPEROR : -
SIRE,--When, a year ago, I requested your Maje
veto my return to Spain, you urged my going back,
a now here. You were kind enough to say
re the power of leaving this country, if the h
the centre of the Empire, between which aſ *****
divide my residence. Sire, events have deceived
I have no longer a hope o
this crown, I had no object in view but the w
§§ :hy. It has not been in my power to accomplis
ur Majesty to receive me as one of your subj
º--ºº:::::::::: a more faithful servant tha
In accepting
accept this abdication, for he was e
put an end to the war with Spain, i.
not interfere with his projects. Previou
on his Russian campaign, in the spring
We may well understand that the Emp

sitive order from Napoleo
ived º po
up the line of the Douro Th

ressed by the solicitations of more than two tho
families who had followed his fortunes, Jos
an escort, before the battle, to accompany t
ance, where they arrived in safety.
ison of four thousand men in Pampeluna, t
ted his retreat in good order. The troops o
nd other forces were united to the mass
y, which thus became raised to fifty thousa
Spain was lost. In the north, the victories of Ba
Lutzen laid the spirit of the storm for the momen
the strength of France was insufficient to resist .
who had conspired against her Emperor.
armies were withdrawn from the Peninsula.
ceeded to Paris, and, at the instigation of
renounced all right to the crown of Spain. It wa
that Ferdinand should return to his dominions.
an English writer, says that there was at this period
party in the Cortes (acknowledging Ferdinand W
Cadiz) who wished to transfer the crown of Spain to t
head of Lord Wellington; and that his fears lest suc
event should take place greatly influenced the conduct
the French Emperor. It was also said that, had it
been for his anxiety to conciliate the people of Spain,
Napoleon would have restored Charles IV instead of
his son,
º § xLv1. º º º;
A treaty was concluded between Napol
mand, at Valencay, the 11th December,
the latter was recognised as legitimate
stipulating, among other provisions
followed the fortunes of Joseph, or had




















































the Spaniards who had accompanied
nce he gave the assurance that they should
urn to their native country. But he proved false
is to them, to the Cortes, and their a
lved the Cortes, re-established despotism
the Inquisition; the party who had susta
ph (called Afrancesdos) were subjected
ersecutions. Joseph's adherents embraced th
of the first families of Spain, who were treated
. las a distinct and degraded portion of the pe
and those refugees who were in France were prohibit
from returning to their native country. It was not
tion of 1820 that the Afrancesdos obta
ission even to cross the frontier and return to
§ XLVII.
aquiere, the English author before refe
f the Spanish Revolution of 1820, expresses the
urable opinion of the beneficial
sign in the Peninsula, and the rectitu
intentions, as well as the patriotism of his Spanish
h . g that turbulent period.
i to the Constitution of Bayonne,” he says, “me
ticles were unexceptionable. The avowed obje


































Napoleon was to convene the Cortes, which had, it is
known, been suspended by the kings of the Aus
y, and completely set aside during that of the
bons. This admission of a National Congress, elected
e people, presented a sure barrier against arbitrary
Unlike the former system, the executive and
>gislative power were to be separated, the judges declared
hdependent of the Crown, and such other measures
dopted as were most likely to check the growth or ad
the possibility of public abuses. To prove that the
not idle promises, it is sufficient to add that the abol
of the Inquisition; appropriation of Church lands to
payment of the public creditor, and wants of the sta
sale of national domains; the formation of civil .
criminal codes; public instruction removed from those
. Gothiepiles in which it had been confined by the depraved
and despotic taste of priests and schoolmen; lastly, a
powerful impulse given to arts, manufactures, and com-
merce—such, and various others equally salutary, were
amongst the immediate results of the new government,
though produced during the distractions of a rancorous
war. With respect to the Ministers of King Joseph, it
would have been impossible for the most ardent friend of
Spain to make a more excellent selection. They consisted
of men who had been long distinguished for the liberality
of their sentiments, literary acquirements, and superior
talents in all the branches of political knowledge. Most
of them had filled very high offices under Charles IV., and
were all more or less exposed to persecution during his
reign for their efforts in favour of reform. §
“Besides the solemn ties which bound the adherents of
Joseph to him as king, this prince, in addition to an irre- -
proachable private character, and those public virtues
which he was known to have displayed while at Naples,
his engaging address, conciliating manners, and evident




























Joseph's REIGN IN SPAIN. 353
determination to carry the promised reforms into effect,
had won the hearts of many who were at first violently
opposed to his accession. Will not posterity inquire
whether, had Joseph Bonaparte been accepted, it is in the
nature of probabilities, the inquisition, convents, Church
property, and those interminable abuses which followed
their restoration in 1814, would have been revived, then
or at any other period of the new dynasty? ... . . . . . .
“It was a saying of the Emperor, in speaking of the
Spanish people, that their descendants would one day
raise altars to his name. Whatever objections may have
been made to the particular mode in which Napoleon
effected the regeneration of this country, it will doubtless
be enough for posterity to know that the honour belonged
to him alone; the principle was unquestionably paramount
to every other consideration; and if there ever existed a
case in politics or morals wherein the end justified the
means, that of rescuing a whole people from the lowest
and most abject state of misery and degradation is cer-
tainly not among the least exceptionable.
“I cannot help observing that the spoliations of human
lives and territory effected by the various European Con-
gresses, held since the abdication of Napoleon, run the
risk of being regarded in an infinitely worse light by
future generations than his enterprise against Spain;
inasmuch as that the latter was undertaken for the avowed
and express purpose of improving the institutions of an
enslaved people, weighed down by centuries of oppression,
and of whom numbers of the most virtuous and enlightened
espoused the cause of the foreign prince; whereas it is
well known that neither Poland, Naples, Genoa, Lom-
bardy, Venice, Saxony, Ragusa, Sicily, nor Spain herself,
were restored to their old masters for any other purpose
than the renewal of the former tyrannies, destroyed by
the victorious arms of Bonaparte.” .

# 2 A

354 x JOSEPH BONAPARTE.
; -
- - - - - -- " - . . .” XLVIII. §
The war in the Peninsula ended after six years of con-
tinual struggle, and was one of the most sanguinary con-
flicts on record. It cost the French about 250,000 men,
and it was a heavy drain upon the imperial treasury.
The British losses in men and money were also great, and
the sacrifices of the Spaniards and Portuguese were in due
proportion. But Spain suffered most in the restoration
of the Bourbons, and the check given to those salutary
reforms which had been introduced by Napoleon and
Joseph, and which, if carried out, would doubtless have
elevated her in the scale of nations. º ºg - - - - -
“Joseph's policy (says Louis Napoleon, in an essay on
his life and character), which best suited the goodness of
his heart and the philosophical turn of his mind, was all
pacific. Events only obliged him to be a soldier. Al-
though he was not wanting in courage or the decision of
character requisite in the critical events of the war, he
could not always impress on the different corps of the
army that necessity for union so indispensable to success.
Still, Joseph did all the good in his power in the short
interval that the cares of the war left him, and his efforts
were especially directed to the avoidance of bloodshed,
and to receiving the crown with the free consent of the
Spanish people. Supported by the consent of all the
Spaniards assembled at Bayonne, Joseph thought that the
Iberian soil was equally ripe for regeneration as that of
Naples had proved. Faithful to his original principles,
wishing to make use of gentle methods only for establish-
ing his authority, he begged his brother to withdraw all
the French troops from Spain, feeling certain of obtain-
ing the support of the people without foreign troops, and
trusting to the success of a frank appeal to the chivalrous
character of the Spaniards. If the course of events warred

JOSEPH AT HEAD OF THE REGENCY. 355
against this proposition, we must at least acknowledge its
grandeur, and that it was not power alone that Joseph
coveted, but the welfare of Spain.”
XLIX,
At St. Helena, Napoleon informed Las Casas that,
towards the close of the year 1813, he yielded to the
former proposal of Ferdinand to choose a wife for him,
and his marriage with the eldest daughter of Joseph was
decided upon; but circumstances had then changed, and
Ferdinand was desirous that the marriage should be de-
ferred. “You can no longer,” he observed, “support me
with your arms, and I ought not to make my wife a title
of exclusion in the eyes of my people.” The Emperor
assured Las Casas, that had the affairs of 1814 turned out
differently, Ferdinand would unquestionably have accom-
plished his marriage with Joseph's daughter. .
In January, 1814, when Napoleon left to put himself
at the head of the army in Germany, he appointed Joseph
Lieutenant-General of the Empire, and placed him at the
head of the Council of Regency which was to assist the
Empress Regent, Maria Touisa. If the events of the war
should intercept all communication between the Imperial
head-quarters and Paris, and the capital be approached by
the enemies of France, Joseph had instructions from the
Emperor to remove the Empress and her son, and to
proceed with them to the Loire. The letter on this
subject from Napoleon, is as follows. .
tº º -> Rheims, 16th March, 1814.
To KING Joseph : - ...:” %: ...:... :: * 3:...??
Agreeable to the verbal instructions I have given to you, as well as
to the spirit of all my letters, you must not, in any case, suffer the
Empress and the King of Rome to fall into the hands of the enemy.
I am about to manoeuvre in such a manner that it is possible you may
be some days without having news from me. If the enemy advances
upon Paris with such a force that all resistance would be impossible,



356 JOSEPH BONAPARTE.
send off in the direction of the Loire the Regent, my son, th grand
dignitaries, the Ministers, the officers of the Senate, Presidents of the
Council of State, great officers of the Crown, with the Baron de la
Bouillerie, and the Treasurer. Do not quit my son for a moment; and
recollect that I would prefer learning that he was in the Seine than
in the hands of the enemies of France. The fate of Astyanax, prisoner
amongst the Greeks, has always seemed to me to be the most unhappy
one recorded in history. - - - - - - - - - --
º Your affectionate brother, # ,
. NAPOLEoN.
L. º
When the allied army approached Paris, Joseph con-
sulted with the Ministers and Council of State, and it
was decided that the Government should be removed to
Chartres, and thence to the Loire. The Empress and her
son, with the court, were sent to Chartres on the 28th of
march. The next morning, Joseph, accompanied by the
Ministers of War and others, left Paris to investigate the
actual state of affairs. After the battle of the 30th, in
which the troops outside of Paris were driven in by the
Allies, Marshal Marmont told Joseph that he was too
weak to defend the capital, and Joseph authorised him to
treat for a suspension of arms, and the preservation of the
city. Passing through Versailles, Joseph ordered the
cavalry in that city to follow him, and proceeded to
Chartres, where he found the Empress, and escorted her
to Blois. ...
After Napoleon's abdication at Fontainbleau, Joseph
and his brother Jerome thought of removing the Empress
and the regency to the south of France; but the
Empress refused, and was supported in her refusal by the
members of the household. Soon after, she rejoined her
father, the Emperor of Austria, the regency was dis-
solved, and Joseph set out for Switzerland, where he
purchased the estate of Prangins, near Lausanne, on the
banks of Lake Leman. From thence he corresponded

%
Joseph DURING THE HUNDRED DAYs. 357
with Napoleon at Elba, and with Murat at Naples. He
was said to have advised Murat to declare war against
Austria, in 1815, so as to make a diversion in favour of
Napoleon. He informed his brother, the Emperor, that
several assassins had been sent from Paris to Elba to
murder him. This warning caused the arrest of two
persons in that island, who acknowledged their criminal
intentions, and named the instigators of the affair.
During the Hundred Days, Joseph entered confidentially
into the plans and hopes of the Emperor. On hearing of
the arrival of his brother at Grenoble, on his return
from Elba, he hastened to join him; and taking with
him his daughter, he arrived at Paris, the 22nd of March.
He suggested to Napoleon the idea of sending a con-
fidential person to Pozzi-di-Borgo, to make the effort to
gain him over to his cause, and to use his influence to
divide the coalition at the Congress of Vienna. The
envoy, who was the bearer of five million of francs and
the promise of a high station in Corsica, arrived too late.
Pozzo-di-Borgo, tempted by these offers, replied, “I have
just left the Congress—I have exerted all my powers to
stir up the Congress against the Emperor. I cannot now
undo what I have done. Why did you not arrive some
hours sooner?” -
The wife of Joseph, and Hortense, the ex-Queen of
Holland, were among the ladies who welcomed Napoleon
at the Tuileries on his return from Elba. Joseph, as a
Prince of France, took his seat in the House of Peers,
while his brother Lucien sat in the Chamber of Deputies.
In these positions they acted during the absence of
Napoleon at the field of Waterloo. After the disastrous
result of the campaign and the return of the Emperor,
followed quickly by his abdication in June, Joseph and


358 JOSEPH BonAPARTE.
Lucien succeeded in influencing the Chambers to decide
in favour of the continuance of the Empire, and Napoleon
the Second, in whose favour his father had abdicated,
was proclaimed Emperor of the French. The ex-Emperor
declared that, if his son was recognised as his successor,
his political life would close, and that he would retire
as a private individual to the United States. The
proclamation of the King of Rome as Emperor, how-
ever, proved a delusion, and in a few days the Bour-
bons returned to Paris. Two frigates, the Saale and
the Medusa, were placed by the Provisional Govern-
ment at the disposal of Napoleon, and they were anchored
under the batteries of the Isle of Aix. But his hesita-
tation and delay made the provision useless. : ...;
While he was on the road to Rochefort, Joseph had
come incognito to Niort, to take leave of his brother,
after which he set out for Saintes, intending to retire to
a country-seat in the interior of France, to await the
determination of the fate of his family. Joseph was
compromised by one of the garde du corps, who raised a
mob against him and some persons in the suite of the
Emperor, on their way to Saintes. The movement was
suppressed by the National Guard, who caused both the
persons and carriages to be set at liberty,
LII. ;
On the 13th July, Joseph went to the Isle of Aix,
once more to embrace his brother, and bid him farewell,
He had made sure of his own departure from Bordeaux
to America, and he now came to beseech him to take ad-
vantage of their close resemblance, to offer to remain in
his stead in the Isle of Aix, and to assure him that his
departure from Bordeaux and his voyage to America
would meet with no obstacles whatever, as his measures
were well taken. The Emperor declined this generous


JosLPH's FLIGHT FROM FRANCE. 359
offer. He would not consent that his brother should
expose himself to dangers which belonged to his destiny
alone; and therefore he forced Joseph to leave the Isle
of Aix, and gain the mouth of the Gironde, whilst the
communications were still sufficiently open, and he might
avoid the risk of falling into the hands of the Royalists.
Taking, therefore, a final adieu of his brother, Joseph,
after lingering in the vicinity of Rochefort until he heard
from Bertrand that Napoleon was on board of the Bellerº-
phon, proceeded to Bordeaux, where he embarked in an
American brig bound for Charlestown, S. C. The vessel
landed him at New York in September following. His
wife and daughters remained in France. The dread of a
sea-voyage I bed the former from ever crossing the
Atlantic to join her husband in his exile. . .
LIII. . .-
On his arrival at New York, he found all the hotels
thronged with guests; Mr. Jennings of the City Hotel
told him that he had given his last suite of rooms to Mr.
Clay, who had just returned from the mission to negotiate
the treaty of Ghent. When Mr. Clay heard of the cir-
cumstance, he immediately introduced Joseph to his
apartments; and as they entered the room where dinner
for Mr. Clay's party had been provided, the American
statesman said, “And here is a dinner ready for yourself
and your suite.” The courteous offer was accepted, and
an acquaintance so pleasantly begun ever after continued.
He travelled extensively through the United States, and
was everywhere received with the respect and attention
which Americans always show to strangers of distinction,
particularly to those who seek an asylum among them,
Chiefly from his civil list, while in Naples and Madrid, he
had saved a large fortune. A large proportion of the
funds he brought with him to America he invested in

360 . JOSEPH BoMA PARTE.
public securities and in real estate, the latter for the most
part ending disast ly. &
Having decided to fix his residence in New Jersey, he
applied to the Legislature of that State for permission to
hold real estate. His request was immediately complied
with, and the announcement made to him officially in a
cordial letter from Governor Dickerson.
A similar act was also passed (July, 1825) by the
Legislature of New York. In his petition the Count
states that “he is not in a position to profit by the law
which offers him the h ble and precious title of an
American citizen, and thereby confer upon him the right
of holding land. He must continue to be a Frenchman.”
These facts are interesting, inasmuch as they show the
kind disposition entertained towards Joseph in that
country, and that he considered himself as possibly in
temporary exile, awaiting in America the change of
events in Europe, which might recall the Napoleon
dynasty to power, and therefore forbade his expatriation
by becoming an American citizen.
The place selected for his country I lay on the
bank of the Delaware. at Point Breeze, near Bordentown,
N. J., about twenty miles north-east of Philadelphia.
He purchased nine or ten adjoining farms, laid out and
adorned an extensive park, built roads and bridges, and
erected a vast edifice, on the plan of an Italian palace,
with a court-yard open on one side. This superb mansion
was enriched by his entire collection of paintings, busts,
tatues, precious stones, ancient relics, and curiosities,
which he had amassed in France, Italy, and Spain. Every
luxury which wealth could purchase, and every appliance
of comfort and taste which art, learning, and refinement
could suggest, adorned and embellished this palatial seat
of hospitality, At Bordentown alone he expended on his
estate nearly a million of dollars. He had brought with
* . .

RESIDENCE AT BORDENTOWN. 361
him most of his old secretaries and servants; they remained
faithfully attached to him through life, and those he had
not enriched while living were left independent at his
death. . . . . . . .2& :
He maintained the same domestic habits as in former
years. Like all the Bonapartes, he rose early, and did
his work in the morning. He remained in his library,
engaged in reading and writing till eleven, when he met
his friends at breakfast, which usually occupied half an
hour. He then generally went over his grounds, to give
directions about the improvements in progress. Dinner
came at five o’clock; and his table was almost sure to be
surrounded by distinguished guests.
Of all his brothers, Joseph looked most like the
Emperor. He was exactly five feet nine inches and a
half in height. His manners were full of grace, elegance,
and blandness; his heart was full of humane feelings;
his mind was well balanced, and all his views of life
were moderate and cheerful. Wherever he was known
he was respected, and those who loved him once loved
him always. . ... º.
In his new residence, he at once acquired the influence
and esteem always accorded to an illustrious man of great
wealth, and unpretending and prepossessing manners,
generosity, and hospitality, Carefully abstaining from
all interference with the political concerns of America,
he drew around him many of the exiles from France, who,
having followed the fortunes of the Napoleon dynasty,
came to seek a refuge in the United States. Clauzel,
Desmonettes, Lallemand, and other distinguished French-
men, received constant proofs of the goodness of his
heart. Napoleon having made an appeal to his family
from St. Helena that each member should contribute
towards his required wants, Joseph unhesitatingly offered

362 - JOSEPH BONAPARTE,
his whole fortune to his brother. The Emperor took but
little advantage of this generous offer.
LV. 3.
His stately mansion at Bordentown was consumed by
fire on the 4th January, 1820. It originated in the
fourth storey, so that, though the house was totally
destroyed, the rich furniture, and especially the paintings,
were saved. On this occasion, the neighbours showed
their good will by their anxious efforts to save his
property. He returned his thanks to them in the following
letter to one of the magistrates of Bordentown.
- * : r - Point Breeze, January 8, 1820.
To WILLIAM SNOWDEN, ESQ. : - - : ~ .
SIR,-You have shown so much interest for me since I have been in
this country, and especially since the event of the 4th inst., that I
cannot doubt it will afford you pleasure to make known to your
fellow-citizens how much I feel all they did for me on that occasion.
Absent myself from my house, they collected by a spontaneous move.
ment on the first appearance of the fire, which they combated with
united courage and perseverance; and when they found it impossible
to extinguish it, exerted themselves to save all the flames had not
devoured before their arrival and mine. -
All the furniture, statues, pictures, money, plate, gold, jewels,
linen, books, and, in short, everything that was not consumed, has
been most scrupulously delivered into the hands of the people of my
house. In the night of the fire, and during the next day, there were
brought to me by labouring men drawers in which I have found the
proper quantity of pieces of money, and medals of gold, and valuable
jewels, which might have been taken with impunity. This event has
proved to me how much the inhabitants of Bordentown appreciate the
interest I have always felt for them; and shows that men in general
are good, when they have not been perverted in their youth by a bad
education; when they maintain their dignity as men, and feel that true
greatness is in the soul, and depends upon ourselves. º,
I cannot omit on this occcasion, what I have said so often, that the
Americans are, without contradiction, the most happy people I have
known; still more happy if they understand well their own happiness.
I pray you not to doubt of my sincere regard.
-: Joseph Count DE SURVILLIERS.


OFFER OF THE MEXICAN CROWN. 363
. . LVI.
The mansion, afterwards rebuilt in an unpretending and
plain style, still continued to be his residence, and the
abode of hospitality. It was constantly visited by
Americans and foreigners, anxious to see and converse
with the distinguished exile. He not only received
visitors graciously, but often presented to his friends, as
tokens of regard, specimens from his collections of art
and relics of the days when the Bonapartes were on the
thrones of Europe. ‘. . . . . . . ... . . . -
Of course he participated in the deep grief felt by all
the relatives of Napoleon when the intelligence of the
death of that great man in exile reached them. The son
of the deceased Emperor was still in captivity, and Joseph
thought it his duty to ask permission of the Austrian
court to visit the Duke de Reichstadt, and administer to
him the advice and consolation of his father's elder
brother and tried friend. But Metternich refused the
request, . . .
. - LVII, º
During his residence on the Delaware (Louis Napoleon
informs us), Joseph received a proposition which sur-
prised as much as it must have affected him. A
deputation from Mexico came to offer him the Mexican
crown. He replied to the deputation—“I have worn two
crowns; I would not take a step to wear a third. Nothing
can gratify me more than to see men who would not
recognise my authority when I was in Madrid now come
to seek me in exile; but I do not think that the throne
you wish to raise again can make you happy. Every
day I pass in this hospitable land proves more clearly to
me the excellence of republican institutions for America.
Keep them as a precious gift from Heaven, settle your
internal commotions, follow the example of the United
364 JOSEPH BONAPARTE,
States, and seek among your fellow-citizens a man
more capable than I am of acting the great part of
Washington.”
When Lafayette came to the United States in 1824, he
visited Joseph at Bordentown. On that occasion Joseph
says that Lafayette expressed to him his regret at the
part he had taken in 1815, in effecting the restoration of
the Bourbons, and observed, “The Bourbon dynasty
cannot last ; it too openly wounds the national feeling,
In France we are all persuaded that the son of the
Emperor alone can represent all the interests of the
Revolution. Place two millions at the disposal of our
committee (in Paris), and I promise you that, with this
sum, in two years Napoleon II. will be on the throne of
France.” Joseph thought the means inadequate to the
object to be attained, and did not accept the proposition
of Lafayette.
But when, in 1830, the tidings reached Joseph that
France had again raised the tri-colour, the hopes of
himself and friends were strong that the nation would
declare in favour of Young Napoleon, as the successor
of Charles X. When those hopes were dissipated by the
elevation of Louis Philippe to the throne, Joseph reminded
Lafayette in a letter of their conversation six years
before, and urged him to use his influence to obtain the
repeal of the law which excluded the Bonapartes from
France, and expressed his disappointment in the pre-
ference given to the House of Orleans, when the nation
had clearly made known its wishes in favour of the son
of Napoleon in 1815. Lafayette replied in November,
1830, expressing his good feelings towards Joseph, and
declaring that he had used his efforts to obtain permission
for the Bonapartes to return. He also frankly stated
his objections to the restoration of the Empire, and the
Napoleon dynasty, .


LEAVES AMERICA For ENGLAND. 365
§....... 3 LVIII,
Joseph also (in Sept., 1830) addressed to the Chamber
of Deputies a protest against the occupation of the throne
of France by a Prince of the House of Bourbon, when
the family of Napol had been called to power by
three millions five hundred thousand votes. “If the
nation (says he) thinks it for its int to make
another choice, it has the power, and the right; but the
nation alone. Napoleon II. was proclaimed by the
Chamber of Deputies in 1815, which was dissolved by
foreign bayonets. So far, gentle are bound to
Napoleon II, and until Austria has given him up to the
wishes of the French, I offer to share your dangers, your
efforts, your undertakings, and on his arrival to transmit
to him the wishes, the example, and the last dispositions
of his father, who died a victim to his enemies on the
rock of St. Helena.” .
This letter was not read to the Chamber. The new
Government was inaugurated without consulting the
people; so that, not being founded either on hereditary
right or popular election, it sustained itself with difficulty,
until overthrown by the Revolution of 1848.
3 ºf *
- LIX. . . . . .
After the death of Napoleon's son, Joseph left the
United States, and took up his residence in England.
(1832), where he was joined by his brothers Lucien and
Jerome, and his nephew, Louis Napoleon. With the
latter he agreed generally on great questions, but dis-
approved of his propensity to hasty action, in trying to
accelerate events. Being much displeased and disgusted
with the charges made against him in England, of par-
ticipating in the affair of Strasbourg, he returned to
America in 1837, and took up his former residence at


366 JOSEPH BONAPARTE.
Bordentown. In 1839, he again embarked for Europe,
and finding Louis Napoleon in England, and being
enlightened as to the means and prospects of his nephew,
the latter was fully restored to his confidence and affection.
The publication of the “Idées Napoléoniennes” gained
his approbation, and he said that work was the exact and
faithful report of his brother's political ideas. w
He preserved his strength, energy, and mental powers
till 1840, when he suffered from a paralytic attack, from
which he never afterwards recovered. He tried the
baths of Germany, and afterwards returned to England.
Eventually he obtained permission to go to Florence,
which climate he hoped might re-establish his health.
The misfortunes of his family engrossed much of his
thoughts during his later years, and he constantly ex-
pressed his regrets at the injustice of France in per-
mitting so many men who had served the nation faith-
fully to die in exile, z
Says Louis Napoleon—“Attended by the Queen Julie,
whose devotion failed not to the last, and who was ever
a comforting angel, as well as by his brothers, Louis and
Jerome, whom he loved affectionately, he expired gently ;
and, as a righteous man, he would have seen the approach
of death without regret, if the phantom of exile had not
intruded even on his last moments, to wring his heart
and poison his last farewell.
“Joseph died at Florence, on the 28th of July, 1844,
at nine o'clock in the morning, aged 76 years, and the
intelligence of his death was a subject of bitter regret
not only to his family, but to all those who had known
and cared for him. One of the sad effects of exile is,
that although a general feeling of regret was evident in
Paris (an absence of twenty-nine years had naturally
thinned the numbers of those who, in France, were


Joseph's LAST DAYS. 367
personally attached to him), it was probably at Florence,
in the United States, and even in London, that the most
genuine tears were shed for the death of Napoleon's
brother, . . . . . .
“Like all men who have a long past and a short future,
Joseph delighted in recalling the events he had witnessed,
and the episodes, which he related with a peculiar charm,
interested everyone by their great simplicity or startling
earnestness. He had a fine memory, and had read a great
deal, knowing by heart all the most beautiful parts of the
classic authors. Although he always conducted himself
with honour and tact, if he did not shine with all the
brilliancy that might have been expected from his talents,
it was because he was of a placable nature; and from his
chancing to be born at a revolutionary period, he was
obliged to become one of the chief instruments of a
policy of war, independence, and absolute power, whilst
his own feelings were in favour of a liberal constitution.
The struggle of the people in 1789 against the old dynasty
had made a deep impression on his mind. The crowns
of Naples and Spain were only accessory events to him.
The Empire itself was only an episode in the midst of a
great revolutionary drama, which had moved his whole
soul. The adulations, the honours, the charms even of
power which he had enjoyed, like so many others, had
glided past him without reaching his heart, and under the
purple as under the cloak of exile, the man remained the
same—a valiant adversary of all oppression, of all privi-
leges, and of all abuses; a passionate defender of equality
and of the liberty of the people. It is evident, if his
participation in the events which illustrated the Republic
and the Empire are lost sight of beside the immense
deeds of his brother, that they are so, not from the insig-
mificance of his own efforts, but because everything seems
diminutive beside a giant. But if, in the present day, a

368 . JOSEPH BONAPARTE,
man existed among us who, as a deputy, diplomatist,
king, citizen, or soldier, had constantly distinguished him-
self by his patriotism and brilliant qualities, if he had
gained battles and illumined two thrones with the torch
of French ideas; if, in fine, in good or in evil fortune, he
had always remained faithful to his vows, to his country,
and to his friends; that man, we say, would hold the
highest place in the public opinion. Statues would be
erected to him, and civic crowns would adorn his grey
hairs.”
Joseph left most of his estate, now very much reduced,
to his widow, and his daughter, the wife of the Prince of
Canino, a son of Lucien His second daughter married
her cousin, Charles Louis (son of Louis, ex-King of Hol-
land), who died in 1830. Julie, widow of Joseph, died
at Florence, April 7, 1845. º .









§***
§§
§
º
§§-
§
§
§
§
sº§
LUCIEN BONAPARTE.

























year, had previously sent him to school in France. A
having been alternately for some time at the College of
Autun, at the Military School of Brienne, and lastly at
the Seminary of Aix, in Provence, Lucien returned to
Corsica. He was destined for the ecclesiastical profession,
at the request of the Abbé Bonaparte, one of his rela-
ns, who promised to resign in his favour a canonicate
ºf the Order of St. Stephen, at Florence. The young
man, however, soon determined to change the course
marked out for him, and not to enter a profession for
which he doubtless felt he had not the requisite qualifi-
cations.
On his return from college, he had been only a month
with his mother at Corsica when the French Revolution
opened. The education of the Bonaparte brothers on the
Continent, and other circumstances, had, says Lucier
rendered the family entirely French.
Lucien, a youth of fifteen, threw himself into the popular
societies which were formed in the island with enthu-
siasm, fired with the great names of antiquity.
When Corsica, under Paoli, renounced France (April,
1793), Lucien was sent as chief of the deputation of the
French party at Ajaccio to get aid from the Jacobin
clubs at Marseilles and Paris.
A favourable wind wafted the Corsican delegation to
the French coast in twenty-four hours. Lucien had aban-
doned his unfinished studies a few years before, and he
was now to re-appear among the French, charged with
a political mission. “My vanity,” says he, “was exalted
to so high a pitch that I fancied myself a person of
sufficient importance to attract the notice of the crowd
at the port of Marseilles, where we landed in the
evening, Great was our anxiety to arrive at the plac










































admit
ng of the popular club. In a vast saloon, which
::::::::::::::::: d very little light, were seated the members of
the club, with red caps on their heads. The galleries
were filled with noisy women. The president announced
that a deputation of patriots from Corsica were bearers
of important news, and I was called to the tribune. I
began by declaring that the nation was betrayed in
Corsica, and that we had come to invoke the aid of our
brothers. It was not only a speedy succour, that I
demanded, but I painted Paoli as having abused the
national confidence, and that he had only returned to
the island to deliver it up to the English. They, above
all, were not spared in my figures of rhetoric. It was
the chord most lively to touch the feelings of my
auditors, and I made it my favourite theme. I was
overpowered with embraces and compliments. Motion
upon motion followed. An order for printing my speech;
a message to the administrators of the departments to
send troops to the aid of Ajaccio; a deputation of three
members to accompany us to the Jacobins of Paris to
denounce the treason of Paoli, and demand vengeance—
all these measures were adopted with urgency and
unanimity. My colleagues not having sufficient funds
for the journey to Paris, I determined upon accompanying
the deputies of Marseilles alone; and we left the assembly
together at midnight.”
On his way to the inn to pass the night, Lucien found .
that the Marseilles deputies who were to accompany him
to Paris were men of repulsive aspect, savage language,
and vulgar manners. After a disturbed sleep, he awoke,
discontented and undecided as to the projected journey.
His new friends invited him to breakfast with them at the
café. In passing through the Cannebriere, he saw the
guillotine at work. Several of the wealthiest merchants


























of the city had perished that morning; “and that crowd,”
walking in the streets of the Cannebriere to enjoy the
spectacle | The shops were full of customers as usual,
and the cafés were open I Never shall I forget the first
time I walked in the streets of Marseilles I
“I left the café as soon as possible, and I declared the
next day that I would not go to Paris; that the deputies
of the Marseilles Club did not want me to accompany
them to fulfil their mission, and that I should await
the promised succour to return to Corsica with my
A few days after, Letitia, with her family, having fled
from Corsica, arrived at Marseilles, where they obtained
assistance from the Government as refugee patriots. The
three elder brothers soon obtained public employment—
. Napoleon as an officer of artillery, Joseph in the com-
misary department, and Lucien in the administration of
military subsistences at St. Maximin, a small town a few
leagues from Marseilles.
At St. Maximin, Lucien acquired great influence as a
popular orator, passing his evenings at the Patriotic Club,
where the whole town came to hear the speeches of the
young Corsican refugee; and, although not nineteen
years of age, he was soon chosen president of the
revolutionary committee of the place. The women, rich
and poor, came regularly to the sittings of the club,
bringing with them their work; and all worked, that
they might not be accused of aristocracy, and joined in
chorus with the men in applauding Lucien, and in singing
patriotic songs.
“How many times,” says he, “have I thanked Provi-
dence for not having abandoned me to the intoxication of
so extraordinary a position, so dangerous at my age, and
for having surrounded me with plain and simple persons,




















ood intentions with which
ired them would have been equally ready
me had I been inclined to commit excesses; for
se moments of democratic despotism (the worst of
all despotisms), the power of an orator, as long as he
commands popular favour, is stronger than public con-
science. I have often looked back upon myself, and I
have felt that my good sentiments were powerfully
seconded by favourable circumstances. I was a refugee
patriot, and a martyr to the revolutionary cause; these
titles placed me beyond the reach of being suspected of
aristocracy and of moderation. I could to a certain point
brave the most prevailing prejudices, and follow the right
oad is by far the worst of all social states, where an
honest man is exposed to become criminal—where th
fate of every one is at the mercy of all—where wear
never certain of what we may say, what we may do, o
what will become of us on the morrow.”
His position at St. Maximin and influence with th
people enabled Lucien to exert himself with effect in th
cause of humanity. At one time he exposed himself to
imminent peril, in saving thirty unfortunate individuals
accused of royalism, whom the agent of Robespierre in
the south of France wanted to remove to the prisons
of Orange, where the guillotine was in constant activity
By Lucien’s order the captives were released, and th
gent departed.
On the fall of Robespierre (1794), and the reaction
which took place in the south of France against the
Jacobins, Lucien was arrested, on account of his speeches
and his political course, and one of those whom he had
d from the guillotine proved most hostile. After
ks confinement in the prison of Aix, he was
§




































ence of Napoleon
- … , and retired to Mars
St. Maximin, when it was the fashion to take
names, Lucien assumed the name of Brutus,
her members of the republican committee
example, by taking Roman or Greek names.
of St. Maximin they called Marathon.
Contracting a marriage-engagement with Christine
Boyer, the daughter of an inn-keeper at St. Maximin,
during his residence there, Lucien married her in ---
being then about twenty years of age. Portionless as was
his wife, he was fondly attached to her. She was beautiful
and amiable ; and so sanguine was his temperament, he
º found consolation for present indigenc
future prosperity.
On Napoleon's elevation to the command o
of the interior, Lucien went to Paris (1795);
his brother's influence, he was appointed com
war to the army of the Rhine under Moreau,
joined after a month in the capital. His ::::
panied him; and Joseph welcomed the young couple
his house, where they remained until they set out for
army. At head-quarters he was fond of making
and frequently got into quarrels with th
with him in politics. But his relations
commander of the army of Italy, whi
achieved the glories of its first campaign, a
friendship of the generals of the army of th *4.
caused the indolence of Lucien to be overlooked, and his
political discussions to be excused. Having obtained
permission to leave at the north, Lucien
epaired to Italy, -: º


























































izens of the department of Liamone to represent them
he Council of Five Hundred as soon as he should be
nd he was accordingly elected by the people a
member of that body in February, 1798, for a term of
three years. Joseph was previously, through the influence
of Lucien, elected from Corsica to the same Council.
VII.
On taking his seat in the Council (May, 1798), he was
welcomed with a favour due entirely to the enthusiasm
º the members felt for Napoleon, Napoleon had invited ;
Lucien to accompany him in the expedition to Egypt; but
he preferred to engage in a legislative career. He did
not take a decided part at first in the Council, but pur-
sued an independent course. His first votes were gene-
rally favourable to the Government; but the Directoryv
destined to a speedy downfall, and Lucien at last fou
that it was no longer possible to sustain its weakness
incapacity. He allied himself with Sieyes and his par
who were scheming for a new Constitution, While
poleon was in Egypt, Lucien wrote to him, complaining
of the misgovernment of the Directory, and urging him
to return to France. His letters were said to have b
intercepted by the English cruisers.
A few months after becoming a member, Lucien was
elected Secretary of the Council of Five Hundred; his
influence soon increased, and he formed a party which
promoted the views of his brother on the 18th Brumaire,
Not long before that memorable day the Council appointed
him their President, partly, however, as a mark of resp
o Napoleon. The event proved how important thi
ntment was to the fortunes of his brother,
on's return from Egypt, in October, 1799,
ame the active leader of those who wished to overturn
Directory. Up to the 19th Brumaire, and especially














































d a degree of activit
a of mind, rarely found
as present on the occasion,
itation in stating that to Lucien’s nomi
esident of the Council, and his exertions,
ied the success of the 18th Brumaire.
two Chambers assembled at St. Cloud; Lucien
dent of the Council of Five Hundred, read a lette
gnation from Barras, one of the Directory, whic
dy, therefore, no longer existed. Sieyes and F
os had joined Bonaparte's party; Gohier and Moul
other members, were under arrest, and in the cus
eneral Moreau, mº
After Napoleon had left the Hall, Lucien endeavoured
to restore tranquillity. As soon as he could make himself
heard, he said, “The scene which has just taken place in
the Council proves what are the sentiments of all—senti
ments which I declare are also mine. It was, however,
natural to believe that the General had no other object
than to render an account of the situation of affairs, and
of something interesting to the public. But I t
none of you can suppose him capable of projects hostile
. VIII.
“Lucien’s address,” says Bourienne, “was interrupted
by acclamations against Napoleon. He made further
efforts to be heard, and, calling Casal to the President's
chair, addressed the Council as a member. He begge
that the General might be again introduced, and heard
with calmness. This proposition was furiously opposed,
amidst cries of “Outlaw Bonapartet Ou im!' I .
who had resumed the President's chair,
. he might not be constrained 0 pu













































































bes.” º
poleon sent in soldiers to the assistance of his
ther, and they carried him off from the midst of the
to discharge his duties on horseback, and at the head of a
body of soldiers ready to obey his commands. Roused by
the danger to which his brother and himself were exposed,
he mounted his horse, and addressed the citizens and
“The President of the Council of Five Hundred (
to you that the majority of that Council is at this m
held in terror by a few representatives of the people,
are armed with stilettos, and who surround the tri
threatening their colleagues with death, and mainta
::::::::::::::::::::: rocious discussions.
eclare to you that these brigands, who are doubtles
y of England, have risen in rebellion ag
ouncil of Ancients, and have dared to talk of
the General who is charged with the execution of
as if the word ‘outlaw' were still to be regarded
death-warrant of persons most beloved by their countr
“I declare to you that these madmen have o
themselves, by their attempts upon the liberty
Council. In the name of that people which for
ve: as been the sport of terrorism, I consign
harge of rescuing the majority of their represent
so that, delivered from stilettos by bayonets, th
“General, and you, soldiers, and you, citize
not acknowledge as legislators of France an




































here; and whenever they dar
eople, let every finger point at the
esignate them by the well-merited
f the Poniard.' Wive la Republ
Perceiving some hesitation on the part of the troops
dvancing against the National Representatives, Lue
rew his sword, exclaiming, “I swear that I will stab
brother to the heart if he ever attempt anything agai
the liberty of Frenchmen.” This dramatic action was
successful; and, at a signal given by Napoleon, Murat, at
the head of his grenadiers, rushed into the hall, a
out the representatives.
jś IX.
The Government being destroyed,
. frame a new one. immediately. -> I . i ~gº X----
lecting thirty of the members of the late Council riv
Hundred. The Council of Ancients had already deci
ing prepared to concur with Lucien, declared the I
tory dissolved, and decreed that a provisional commission
of three members, who should assume the title of Consuls
Everything was concluded before three o'clock in the
morning of the 20th Brumaire; and the Palace of St






































ght
*:::::: ulfilled with so much pleasure. B
tance hich she was far from foreseeing ga. ---
happiness—it was the change in her favº
took place in the sentiments of her brother-in-la
disapproved of her marriage with Lucie
OT the fºllºSU Uli } |tiš
§:::::::
he tho

LUCIEN BONAPART
t was kind, her smile sweet, as well as her voice;
as graceful and amiable. Her love for her husband
d her intelligent in adapting herself to the cir- ; :
tances of the times. She soon became an elegant
; and her toilette, manner, and conversation
3d no trace of the humility of her origin.
The winter of 1800 was a very brilliant period in the
ld of fashion, and Lucien’s wife gave splendid enter-
inments at his house. While he was Minister of t
Interior, she died, and was buried in the park of Le
Plessis Chamant. Her husband erected to her memory
a monument with the simple inscription, “A daughter,
wife, and mother, without reproach " When he went to
Le Plessis, he took his daughters with him that they
might join him in his prayers at their mother's tomb.
&:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: XI, º §
When Lucien was about twenty-two years of age,
is described as tall and slender in form, brilliant
expression, rapid in utterance, and nervous in his mo
ments. He was near-sighted, and the only one of the
Bonapartes who wore spectacles; but this defect was
over-balanced by his smile, always in harmony with his
look, and his agreeable countenance and pleasing manners.
His understanding and talents were of a high order. In
early life, when he met with a subject that he liked, he
identified himself with it, and may be said to have lived
in a metaphysical world. He was a Greek with Demos
thenes, a Roman with Cicero, and, in short, was an
enthusiast in the classics and in poetry.
was so entirely different from Napoleo





































Guastalla. A French army, under the orde
Lucien’s brother-in-law, General Le Clere, having ente
Portugal, the court of Lisbon endeavoured to purchase
safety by lavishing money on the invaders. That
weordingly opened negotiations with Lucien,
, preliminaries of peace were sig
have
his return to Paris, he was appointe º
or a member of the Tribunate, and in that bod

assu d us that in almost every instance Lucien §
º e. Napoleon wished him to marry a German
and thus form the first great alliance in the
id Madame Jouberthou, whose husband had died
he West Indies while engaged in commercial pursuits,
When Napoleon heard of the marriage from the priest
whom it had been clandestinely sanctioned, he was
incensed, and resolved not to confer on Lucien the title
of French Prince. He obtained, therefore, only the
dignity of Senator; and on the establishment of . the
Empire he and his family were excluded from the right
of succession to the crown. --
His residence at Paris thus became unpleasant, and he
retired to Rome, where for awhile his mother resided
with him; but he returned to Paris at last, on the
solicitation of Napoleon. The Pope (Pius VII) had
received him with great cordiality, and created him.
Prince of Canino. He purchased an estate near Viterbo,
fifty miles north of Rome, and lived in luxury, enjoying
the intimacy of the Pontiff. At the close of the year
1807, Napoleon visited Italy, and, by his invitation,
Lucien met him at Mantua; it was the last interview
between them till the Hundred Days of 1815. A partial
reconciliation took place between them; and Lucien
consented that his eldest daughter should marry Ferdi-
mand of Spain, then Prince of the Asturias, The
marriage did not take place; and Napoleon afterwards
desired a matrimonial union between the same Prince
and a daughter of Joseph, which project also failed, in
consequence of the French disasters in Spain.
Lucien had taken part with the Pope in his diff.
culties with Napoleon, and he was warned that his













e, where he lived in
nation of the war in
members of the Bonaparte family.
ptuous elegance until the
4. The other -
o Elba, having retired to Italy,
ere the reinstated Pope afforded
ºption, Lucien joined them. He
with them in promoting the escape of Napoleon ---
the ente
he Empire, and he then took his sea
:::::::: In the private councils he advise a- -
poleon to offer to the Emperor of Austria to abdicate in
favour of his son. This manoeuvre not having succeeded,
poleon set off for the army, and lost the Battle of
t
:::::::::::::::: feeling of sympathy for his brother. E
eloquently, but was answered by Lafayette, who declare
that France had suffered enough for Napoleon. Lucien
was opposed to his brother's abdication; but when he saw
Napoleon determined upon it, he insisted on its being
made in favour of young Napoleon. Soon after the allied
armies entered Paris, Napoleon went to Rochefort t





























mbark on his exile, and Lucien returned to Italy. He
rejoined his family at Rome, where he afterwards spent
ears in retirement.
XV. §
In 1828 he began excavating at La Camella, on his
estate of Canino, which is believed to have been the site
of Vetulonia, an Etruscan city; and he gathered an ample
collection of Etruscan antiquities, of which he published
a description (“Musée Etrusque de Lucien Bonaparte,
Prince de Canino"). During the insurrection in the
Papal States, in 1831, Lucien kept himself and family
aloof from that attempt to change the Government,
Some time after he visited England, where he published
several of his works. He returned to Italy, and died at
Viterbo, on the 27th June, 1840, leaving three sons and
. several daughters. The eldest son, Charles, now Prince
of Canino, married Letitia, eldest daughter of Joseph
Bonaparte. The two younger, Pierre and Antoine, having
disputes with the Papal authorities, were compelled to
flee from Rome, in 1836. They retired to the United
States, whence they returned in 1838, and Pierre was
elected in 1848 a member of the French National
Assembly for the department of Corsica. Of the daugh-
ters, Charlotte married, in 1815, Prince Gabrielli of
Rome; and the second, Christine, married M. Posse, a
Swedish Count. This marriage was dissolved, when
Christine married Lord Dudley Stuart. Letitia married
Thomas Wyse, Esq., member of Parliament for Waterford,
Ireland. This marriage was unfortunate; and certain
romantic incidents arising out of it have been embellished
in a novel by the Viscount d’Arlincourt, called “Le
Lucien holds a respectable rank as a French author in
prose and in verse. His principal works are “Charlemagne,














or the Church Delivered,” an epic poem, in twenty-four
cantos; “La Cirneide, or Corsica Saved,” a poem, in twelve
cantos; “Response to the Memoirs of General LaMarque;”
and “Memoirs of Lucien Bonaparte,” in one volume 8vo.
As an orator Lucien was among the most brilliant and
persuasive in France. H literary acquisitions and abili-
ties were superior to those of his brothers, and his literary
tastes were transmitted to his children. His tastes in all
respects were those of a scholar rather than a prince.





THE Bonapartes were º remarkable for th
velopment º of their intellectual powers, and in hi
Louis, the third brother, stands conspicuous.
the public service at fourteen, having lost
his seventh year. In one of Napoleon's vis
family at Marseilles, during the siege of Tou
vailed on his mother to send Louis to th
lons, that he might undergo the
his entrance into the corps of artil
Lyons the boy was exposed to gr
Napoleon took Louis with him, in the ar
time Alps, giving him the rank of sub-lieutenant
staff, although not fifteen years old. In passing To
Napoleon inspected the works, and
young brother. The spectacl ---

LOUIS BONA PARTE.



- k-
§
º
º























my of Italy, he was ordered
e representatives of the peopl
ly three or four feet in height, and
y stooped for shelter. Napoleon
that Louis imitated his example,
ble, and asked him the reason. “I have
uis, “that a French officer of a
r cannon; it is our best weapon,

















At the school of Chalons Louis had imbibed anti-re
lican principles; the young men at that institution made
it their boast that they were hostile to the republican
government. The impressions he received there remained
through life. He neither shared in the enthusiasm of his
comrades, who were overjoyed at the prospect of entering
on a campaign, nor assented to the approbation then
generally bestowed on the fashions, manners, and customs
which prevailed at Paris. He was of an observing and
silent character. He felt a vacuity of heart and a senti-
ment of deep regret on finding himself impelled into a
career of troublesome ambition. He sighed already for
retirement and a peaceful occupation.
Louis was in his eighteenth year when he joined the
second time the army of Italy, as aide-de-camp of Napo-
leon, with the rank of lieutenant.
In his military career, Louis displayed courage by fits
and starts, and the acquisition of a military reputation
gave him very little concern. He evinced zeal, activity,
and coolness, but not the slightest feeling of ambition,
discharging his duty without either indulging or sparing
himself in anything, or endeavouring to appear to advan-
stage.
§ III.
In May, 1796, Louis and Lannes were the first who
passed the Po with the army. Louis distinguished him-
self in various important actions, among others at the
taking of Pavia and the siege of Mantua. Napoleon sent
him to Paris, accompanied by another officer, to present
to the Directory the colours taken at Castiglione; and the
rank of captain was conferred on him as a mark of favour
He was soon after at his post, and was present at the
battles of Brenta, Caldiero, Rivoli, and Arcola, and was
by the side of Lannes when that intrepid hero fell. Whi







His MILITARY CAREER. 389
Napoleon's horse sunk with him in a morass, Louis suc-
ceeded in getting hold of his brother's hand, but not being
strong enough he was drawn along with him ; Marmont
and two subaltern officers coming to their aid, the two §
brothers were extricated from their perilous situation.
On the second day of the battle Louis was charged with
important orders from the General-in-Chief to General
Robut; and being the only person on horseback on the
road, he was marked out by the enemy, and for a long
time exposed to their fire. On regaining his brother,
Napoleon expressed a feeling of surprise and joy. “I
believed you dead,” said he ; and his death had been
actually announced to him by some of the grenadiers.
In the short campaign in the Ecclesiastical States,
Louis accompanied Napoleon; and, retiring to Milan on
account of ill-health, he did not take part in the last cam-
paign in Italy, before the peace of Campo Formio. During
the negotiations he was sent by his brother to reconnoitre
the advanced posts of the enemy. This important duty
lasted eight days, and his conduct received the highest
praise from Napoleon. On this inspection he first saw
Bertrand, then a young officer in the corps of engineers.
He appreciated his merit, and recommended him to the
favour of his brother. º
Louis had a strong constitution, but he had not taken
sufficient care of himself in his campaigns. He was left
too much to himself at this time, for at so early an age he
must have been improvident: He had received several
severe falls from his horse; and on one occasion, in de-
scending the mountains of Savoy, he dislocated his knee.
When the Egyptian expedition was contemplated, he º
desired to serve in it, but at the same time wished to set
out later than the troops, in order to try the mineral
waters of Barrege, which had been recommended to him
f > his health, Napoleon decided that he should join the









390 Louis BonAPARTE.
army of Egypt, and embark with the first vessel which
sailed after the close of the bathing-season.
There was a secret reason which made Louis desirous of
remaining at Paris. His sister Caroline was then at
Madame Campan's school; and the young officer, on his
frequent visits, had become acquainted with a friend of
his sister, named Beauharnais, a cousin of Josephine, and
daughter of an emigrant at the commencement of the
Revolution. The same lady afterwards became distin-
guished as the wife of General Lavalette. Louis con-
ceived for her the most romantic affection, Walking one
evening with a naval officer and friend of Napoleon, he
confided to him his secret. The officer was alarmed.
“Do you know,” said he, “that a marriage of this descrip-
tion might be highly injurious to your brother, and render
him an object of suspicion to the Government, and that,
too, at a moment when he is setting out on a hazardous
expedition?”
The following day, Napoleon sent for Louis, and
ordered him to set out instantly, with his other aides-
de-camp, for Toulon, and there wait his arrival, to embark
He sailed with the expedition. He landed with General
Kleber, and was attached to his division in the attack on
Alexandria. He was an eye-witness of the celebrated
victory of Nelson at Aboukir, when the French fleet was
destroyed.
Soon after he was summoned to Cairo. He ascended
the Nile, visited the pyramids of Gizeh, the site of Mem-
phis, the ruins of Heliopolis, and the citadel of Cairo.
Iv.
while in Egypt he wrote several letters to his friends
in France. One to his brother Joseph, intercepted by the
British cruisers, and published in London, breathes a tone







eaking of inh ty of the Bedouins, he says,
in Jacques Rous eau ! Why was it not thy fate .
those men whom thou callest ‘the n :::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
wouldst sink wi :::::::::::::::::::::
º | Syria, I §
nger to France to give an accurat
state of affairs in Egypt, and, if possible,
. Being closely pursued by an English frigate,
overboard the colours taken by th
after a tempestuous voyage of two months,
ping at Corsica on his way. Calling on Madame d
nne, at Sens, he was informed that the interc
ondence seized by the English
his own letters, h -
* 3 of º
pleasant seen
of the army to
lirectory having grante

camp. On Napoleon's elevation to the Consulship, Louis
was appointed colonel of a regiment of dragoons, and sent
to serve in Normandy, where some remains of civil war
still existed. Peace soon followed; but it was thought
expedient that four of the insurgent leaders should be
tried by a court-martial, and Louis was called upon to
preside. This he refused, protested against the proceed- §
ing, and neglected no effort to prevent its taking place.
He was grievously afflicted at this catastrophe, which
began to disgust him with a military life. His regiment
was soon after recalled to Paris, and, on their march
the army of reserve, the command was changed to an
officer. Louis remained at Paris, º
to
.. . V. §§ :
A project had been for some time entertained by Jo
phine, to which Napoleon assented, for the marriage of
daughter Hortense with Louis. The proposition was
made to him after the return of the First Consul from the .
brilliant campaign of Marengo (July, 1800); but he refused.
“Not,” he says, “from an unfavourable opinion enter-
tained by him of the character or morals of the young
lady, who was the subject of general praise, but because
he was afraid their characters were not suited to each
other.” Soon afterwards the solicitations for this mar-
riage were renewed, but without overcoming his objec-
tions; and to escape further persuasions, he made a jour-
ney of several months in Germany. At the Cou
Prussia he met with a kind reception from the Ki §
Queen, for whom he ever after cherished the warmest
attachment. Hostilities again breaking out be
France and Austria, he returned to Paris. The pro
of marriage were renewed; and he was glad to
pretence to elude importunities *:::::::



















His MARRIAGE witH HoRTENSE. 3
army for Portugal. Previous to setting out,
he spent two weeks with Napoleon and Josephine at
. Malmaison,
After serving some time with the army in Spain, Louis
obtained leave of absence to enable him to try the waters
of Barreges, for a rheumatism and lameness with which
he was afflicted. He passed three months there, and re-
turned to Paris, after the peace with England, in October,
Immediately after his return, his sister-in-law again
brought forward the subject of his proposed marriage; but
Louis ridiculed a project which had always been so repug- §
mant to him. But one evening, at a ball at Malmaison,
Josephine took him aside, Napoleon joined them, and
fter a long conference they obtained from him his con-
The day of the nuptials was fixed, and on the 4th
lary, 1802, the contract, the civil marriage, and the
ious ceremony took place. “Never,” said Louis in
s memoirs, “was there a more gloomy ceremony—n
had husband and wife a stronger presentiment of all the
horrors of a forced and ill-suited marriage.” From that
day he dates the commencement of his unhappiness, his
and mental sufferings. It brought domestic
troubles which stamped on his whole existence a profound
melancholy, a dejection, a drying of the heart, which
nothing could ever remedy. Louis was but little over
twenty-three years of age at the time of his marriage, and
ise was nineteen.
emoirs, he treats with scorn and contempt the
bels respecting his domestic affairs, involving th
: his wife's character and the legitimacy of h
. Napoleon, also, in his conversations at St.
Helena, thought proper to allude to the subject, and to
indignantly repel the charges which had been made






































§
394 Louis BonAPARTE. ---------------
against Hortense, at the same time showing the entire
improbability of the stories about her and her offspring,
We have found nothing in our investigations on this sub-
ject to justify even a suspicion against the morals or in-
tegrity of Louis or Hortense, and we here dismiss the
subject with the remark that there is more cause for
ympathy with the parties to this unhappy union than
insure for their conduct,
Says Louis, in his Memoirs, before the ceremony,
during the benediction, and ever afterwards, they both
equally and constantly felt that they were not suited to
each other; and yet they allowed themselves to be drawn
into a marriage which their relations, and the mother of
Hortense especially, conceived to be politic and necessary.
From the 4th of January, 1802, down to the month of
September, 1807, when they finally separated, they re-
mained very little together, and that at three separate
periods, and long intervals; but they had three children,
whom they loved with equal affection. The oldest,
named Napoleon Charles, died in Holland, on the 5th
of May, 1807; Napoleon Louis, the second, was bap-
tised at St. Cloud, by Pope Pius VII, during the resi
dence of the Pontiff in France. This is the son whom
Louis endeavoured to put in his place when he abdi-
cated, as King of Holland, in 1810. He died in
The third received the name of Charles Loui
poleon (the Emperor of France).
From 1802 to 1804, inclusive, Louis was generally in
the army, or at the mineral baths. In 1804, he was ap
pointed General of Brigade. At §§
spiracy of Georges, the death of Pichegru a
Duke d'Enghien, took place. Louis w
piègne, in command of his former regime





































ELECTED KING of Holi,AND. ::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
foons. He immediately accompanied Hortense to
. on hearing of the arrest of the Duke. Louis says
he arrived too late, but that he could have done nothing
to prevent the execution. “He could only,” he observes,
“add his tears to those of his mother-in-law, of Hortense,
and of his sister Caroline, all equally afflicted on account
of such a misfortune.” º
At the close of the year 1804, soon after the coronation
of Napoleon as Emperor, Louis was severely affected with
a paralytic attack, caused by exposure and rheumatism,
and partly lost the use of his right hand. Some years
after, the same affection deprived him of th
his limbs generally. On his accession to the F
Napoleon appointed Louis General of Division and
r of State; and in 1805, during the Emperor
. n Germany, he received the command of the
rison of Paris, in which situation he displayed grea
The first intimation Louis received of Napoleon's int
tio respecting Holland was conveyed to him durin
fusing the high rank
§





































were proclaimed King and Queen of Holland.
VIII,
as concluded, by which the Republic of Holland
transformed into a monarchy. Louis was not invited
intimation that his personal interests were concerned ; but
at length the Dutch ambassadors made him acquainted
with what had been going on, and assured him that their
nation gave him the preference for king, Louis did what
he could to avoid expatriation; and to Napoleon he
pleaded the delicacy of his constitution and the unfavour-
ableness of the climate. But his objections w rer-
at
of St. Leu, and read aloud to him. and Hortense the treaty
and constitution which had been concluded. On being
asked if he approved of them, he answered that he could
not form an opinion at a single reading; but he would en-
deavour to do his best. This took place on the 3rd of
June, 1806. On the 5th of June, Louis and Hortense
ruled, and Talleyrand waited on him at his country-se
After remaining a week at St. Leu, during which he
gained some information of the state of the country he
was about to rule, Louis, with his family, set out for Hol-
land, June 15, 1806. On approaching the Dutch fron-
tiers, he changed his cockade; “not,” he says, “without
great pain, and shedding sincere tears.” He arrived at
the Hague on the 18th of June, and his first care was to
form a ministry. He selected men of known integrity
and merit, and to them he gave his entire confidence. To
the several addresses presented to him, he replied, that
from the moment he set foot on their soil he had become
a Dutchman. He promised to protect justice, as he
would commerce, by throwing the access to it open, and
In the spring of 1806, a deputation from Holland
arrived in Paris, and, after four months of negotiation, a
to the consultations on the subject, and received no official














: ABDICATION of Louis, 39
removing everything that might impede it. He said that
no distinction should exist as to religion and political
opinions, and declared that merit and services should form
the sole ground of preferment. .
The first care of the new king was to re-establish the
finances of the State. A civil and criminal code were
drawn up by eminent men, and he established an equal
system of taxation. To his qualities as a statesman and
sovereign Louis added a noble character for humanity.
He was in advance of the age in advocating the abolition
of capital punishment. “A king,” said he, “owes to God,
to posterity, and to the nation, an account of all the persons
in subjection to him.” º
The attachment of Louis to his Dutch subjects was
such that he refused, without hesitation, the crown
of Spain when offered to him by the Emperor, and
this attachment was repaid by the devotion of his
subjects.
Napoleon having resolved to establish his continental
system, an order was given for the sequestration of all
English merchandise, which would have had the effect of
destroying the most valuable foreign commerce of Hol-
land. Louis, from a sense of duty to his subjects, long
resisted the commands of the Emperor, and Marshal
Oudinot was sent into Holland, with an army of 20,000 :::::::
men, to enforce the continental blockade. The King
visited Paris, in December, 1809, to expostulate with Na-
poleon, and was given to understand that, if the British
Orders in Council were not revoked, Holland would be
united to the French Empire. Louis returned to Holland
in April, 1810, and finding that he was unable to protect
the interests of the Dutch nation, he abdicated the throne
in favour of his son, on the 1st of July 1810. The abdi-
cation was declared a nullity oy the Emperor, and, by a
decree dated the 9th of July, Holland was united to the







398 Louis BonAPARTE.
Empire. Thus the reign of Louis, as King of Holland,
was a little over four years.
Ix.
Leaving Haarlem in the strictest incognito, Louis pro-
ceeded to the baths of Toeplitz, in Bohemia. He then
retired to Gratz, in Styria, where he resided three years
under the title of Count de Saint Leu. He refused a |
brilliant appanage, and ordered his wife to decline all |
assistance from the Emperor for himself and children. At
Gratz Louis lived a retired life, endeavouring to re-establish |
his health. He made an attempt to recover the possession
of the crown of Holland, and even thought of returning |
to that country by way of Paris. He therefore retraced
his steps to Switzerland; and the Dutch having chosen
the Prince of Orange for their King, Louis was released |
from all obligations to his former subjects. He now |
wished to retire to St. Leu for the remainder of his life. |
He reached Paris the 1st of January, 1814, and, through
the mediation of Maria Louisa, a meeting took place with
his brother, which passed very coldly. He remained in
the vicinity of Paris until the appearance of the allied
armies before the city; and on the 30th of March, 1814,
he accompanied the Empress to Blois. After Napoleon's
abdication he retired, with the Pope's permission, to
Rome, and continued to reside in Italy up to the time of
his death. In his retreat, he devoted himself chiefly to
literature. He was the author of a romance called
“Maria, or the Hollanders;” “Documents Historical, and
Reflections on the Government of Holland,” including his
own Memoirs, in 3 vols. 8vo; “Mémoires sur la Versifi-
cation;” also an opera and a tragedy; a collection of
poems; and a reply to Sir Walter Scott in his “History of
Napoleon.”
Louis died at Leghorn on the 25th of June, 1846, aged










nearly sixty-eight years. His dying wish was fulfilled on
the 29th of September, 1846, when his body was laid by
those of his sons at St. Leu. The obsequies were attended
by a numerous assemblage of generals, statesmen, and
veterans of the Old Guard, and other relics of the Empire,
and by several members of the Bonaparte family, who
were allowed to return to Paris on a short visit to lay the
brother of Napoleon in his tomb.













THE family of the Beauharnais was among
espectable of the old French nobility. The two brothers,
ºrancois and Alexander, flourished in the reign of Louis
XVI. The former, the Marquis de Beauharnais, was born
at La Rochelle, August 12, 1756, and was in the National
Assembly at the commencement of the Revolution. He
opposed the motion of his younger brother, the Viscount
lexander, to take from the King the command of the
ly. In 1792, with the Count d'Hervilly and others,
he formed the project of a new flight of the royal family;
but the arrest of his companion, the Baron Champon,
defeated the plan. He was appointed Major-General in
the army of the Prince of Condé, and wrote, in 1792, to
the President of the National Assembly, protesting
gainst the treatment of the King. When Napoleon
ecame First Consul, the Marquis in a letter exhorted
him to restore the sceptre to the House of Bourbon,
While he was in exile, the Marquis left his daughter
milie in the care of his sister-in-law, Josephine, who
placed her at the school of Madame Campan,
rupt a love-affair between her niece and Louis B.
Josephine and Napoleon effected
valette a few days before the e
io Egypt. In 1815 M
































E BEAUHARNAIS
NS
HORTE







still very young, evinced
:::::::: ter-life was so u ;
rance and resignation whic
her mother.
Madame Campan, who possessed every quality
forming the mind, the heart, and the man-
h. Among the companions of Horte
an’s were her cousins, Stephanie, afte
of R: d in . Emilie Beauharnais §
me Lavalette; Caroline Bonaparte, the fut
aples; and several others, both
by her mother's second marriage
f Madame Campan, Hortense, besid
anches of education, excellet
nts, and the success of her debú.
the truth of the favourite maxi
structress, that “Talents were the ornament of he
. rriage of her mother with Napoleon,
mpaigns in Italy and Egypt, Hortense
5l. On the return of Napole
Egypt the family was re-united. '

ary splendour. She was courted by
blest of France, and had now full sco
se of those pleasing anticipations of a
ly are realised. Among the frequ
g-rooms who sought her favour was M.
yalist, of polished manners, and his addresse
unacceptable to Josephine and her daughte
bombast and vanity were not to the taste of the
Consul, who sent him forthwith to Languedoc. Ho
never saw Paulo again ; but if they had met in aft
her ripened judgment and good sense would have
firmed the decision of Napoleon.
ith the glittering display of new cour
state policy had broken off two marriages in the
parte family, and the same policy now arranged an
In uniting their own fortunes, Napoleon and Jose
seemed to have tacitly agreed to work together in
cert for the advancement of their families. N
looked upon Louis, whom he had brought u
the light of a son than a brother; Josephin
reasons, was particularly anxious to unite him
daughter. Louis and Hortense were both ind
overcome their mutual reluctance to the union, a
married in the month of January, 1802. H
choice been left free, each possessed qualities wh
have produced a mutual attachment; but th
happiness yielded to necessity. The cha
was the reverse of that of Hortense. The
couple treated their union as the v
their little asperities were in co
had somer ce in his c i.

r change of fortune. Sh
ief desire was, that the renown
and gratify her pride. T

o en ano, nºrmation. ź.
elight, and pride of country, the airs o
º: y the Greek, the Russian, and the Spaniard
inited to national poetry on the banks of the Thame
'agus, while they are familiar to the lovers of m
arts of Europe, and in transatlantic reg
e the rank of the composer is unknown, the
to her genius evinces that it is their intrinsi
‘hich gives to these natural effusions of females
he power of universal success.
The Duchess d'Albrantes thus describes her previ
her marriage.
“Hortense de Beauharnais was at this time
years old. She was fresh as a rose; and though
complexion was not relieved by much colour
enough to produce that freshness and bloom
her chief beauty. A profusion of light hair p
silky locks round her soft and penetrating blue eyes.
delicate roundness of her slender figure was set off b
elegant carriage of her head; her feet were s §
pretty, her hands very white, with pink and well-rounded
nails. But what formed the chief attraction of H
was the grace and suavity of her manners. She was
gentle and amiable; she had wit, which, witho
amiable princesses of Europe. I have
smallest ill-temper, had just malice enough to be
A polished education had improved her natural tal
she drew excellently, sang harmoniously, and perfo
young girl; she afterwards became one
their own courts and in Paris, but I
had any pretensions to equal talents.

VII.
an his Queen arrived in their new dominion
une, 1806. They took up their residence at

us acclamation
being before the


º Holland, and she conceived it was her duty
Her husband was unfortunate, and her popu
... ort experience, Hortense beca
her presence could be more useful to
her husband, and, pleading ill-health, sh
lost her early and faithful friend, M
was drowned in a mountain-torrent dr

lied at Pesaro. With her only sur
oleon, the anxious mother, after som
returned to Arenemberg, in Switz


&
º §§
º
§§
&
޺
§
§
sº º
JEROME BONAPARTE.





€ §
or a Nelson, how widely different would
le condition of mankind It is at least a startl
to imagine the mighty agency of steam first
itted to the hands of such a man as Napoleon
Being fifteen years younger than Napoleon, we find
Jerome, with his sister Caroline, at Madame Campan's
establishment in Paris, during his brother's first campaign
in Italy; after which, we follow him to the College of
. Juilly, where he continued his studies, till Napoleon was
placed at the head of the Consular Government. Alth
he had not yet completed his fifteenth year, he was
into the navy, where he had every opportunity of distin-
guishing himself. In 1801, he received the command of
the corvette L'Epervier, and sailed in the expediti
St. Domingo, which was commanded by his brothe
law, General Le Clerc. In March, the following year
was sent back to France with despatches, announcing
successful landing of the expedition, and the captu
Cape Francois. The intelligence was received with tr
ports of joy by the French people—it was believed to b
the forerunner of the recovery of that important colony;
and as the young lieutenant had distinguished himself
in the expedition, the French nation were ready to recog-
mise in him a Montenotte hero of the sea. º
however, at Brest, longer than was necessar
haps some indulgences common to seafaring youth,
leon himself undertook to reply to a letter of Jerom
Bourienne, in whi
be.


































he sailed for Martinique;
h Madame de la Pagérie, º
stilities began between
s looking for an oppor-
vessel cruised about
en she put
other had
dent attachment for her, and t
timore, December 24th, 1803.
was performed by John Carroll, Bi
ependence), agreeably to the rites of the Rom
Minister of Foreign Affairs of Jerome's king
stphalia, John Comegys, and the M
of the most illustrious nuptials. It is b
nt was mutual and ardent, and th


N.
MISS PATTERSO







EFFORTs To ANNUL THE MARRIAGE 417
should once appear before the Emperor, her beauty, grace,
and accomplishments would secure for her a generous re-
ception, he hoped till the last that this privilege would
be accorded to him. The request, however, was resolutely
refused. No step had been taken in Europe to annul
this marriage until March 3rd (1805), when the Emperor
caused his Council of State to enact a special decree,
“forbidding all civil officers of the Empire to receive on
their registers a transcript of the act of celebration of a
pretended marriage contracted by Jerome Bonaparte in a
foreign country.” This decree, amounting to a declaration
of the nullity of the marriage, related to the formality
prescribed by Article 171 of the Civil Code—viz., that
three months after the return to France of a French sub-
ject, he should transcribe on the Public Register at the
place of his domicile the act of the celebration of any
marriage contracted in a foreign country. º *
> IV. . .
In the following May, the Emperor, in a letter to Pius
VII., requested him to grant a bull annulling the mar-
riage. From this letter, which was dated May 24, 1805,
a copy of which we have been favoured with by a mem-
ber of the Bonaparte family, we make the following
extract. - -
“I have frequently spoken to your Holiness of a young
brother, nineteen years of age, whom I sent in a frigate
to America, and who, after a sojourn of a month, although
a minor, married a Protestant, a daughter of a merchant
of the United States. He has just returned. He is fully
conscious of his fault. I have sent back to America Miss
Patterson, who calls herself his wife. By our laws the
marriage is null. A Spanish priest so far forgot his duties
as to pronounce the benediction. I desire from your
Holiness a bull annulling the marriage. I send your





418 JEROME BONAPARTE.
Holiness several papers, from one of which, by Cardinal
Casselli, your Holiness will receive much light. I could
easily have this marriage broken in Paris, since the Gal-
lican Church pronounces such matrimonies null. But it
appears to me better to have it done in Rome, on account
of the example to sovereign families marrying Protestants.
I beg your Holiness to do this quietly ; and as soon as I
know that you are willing to do it, I will have it broken
here civilly. It is important for France that there should
not be a Protestant young woman so near my person. It
is dangerous that a minor and a distinguished youth
should be exposed to such seduction against the civil
laws and all sorts of propriety.”
W.
Before giving the reply of the Pontiff, it is proper to
correct some of the Emperor's misrepresentations. So
far from Jerome having been only a month in the United
States before the marriage, he had been here several
months; and the marriage-ceremony had been postponed
for nearly two months after the time first determined on,
as we have learned from private sources, and as any
reader may learn from Mr. Jefferson’s letter of that time
to the American Minister at Paris, and as appears from
the life of Pius VII. by Artaud, page 56, volume ii.,
second edition. The marriage had taken place in spite
of the urgent and reiterated opposition of M. Pichon, the
French Chargé d'Affaires at Washington. The friends
of the Patterson family—either directly or through
General Smith, a senator of the United States—were
apprised of the invalidity with which the marriage would
be regarded by the French civil law. The first reason
was, want of consent of the mother of Jerome (who was
still living), and his minority; and, secondly, the obstacles
offered by law to the marriage of an officer of the army
or navy without the consent of his Government. Not-


CIRCUMISTANCES OF THE MARRIAGE. 419
withstanding this notice, the family proceeded. The
Marquis of Casa-Irugo, Spanish Minister in Washington,
from what motive we cannot say, did not hesitate to ask
from the parents of Miss Patterson her hand for Jerome
Bonaparte—Senor Casa-Irugo was himself married to an
American lady. But what appeared most extraordinary
was the conduct of the French Consul at Baltimore, who
happened to be M. Sotin, the former Minister of Police
in France, and who in that quality had presided on the
18th Fructador. M. Sotin, sent into exile (under the
guise of a civil officé) to the United States, by his appoint-
ment as Vice Consul at Savannah would have died from
the unhealthiness of the climate if M. Pichon had not
transferred him to the Consulate at Baltimore. M. Pichom,
detained at Washington by important political affairs,
had ordered M. Sotin to present a formal protest against
the marriage, founded on the civil laws of France. In
defiance of his injunction, M. Sotin assisted as a witness
at the ceremony of the marriage, which was solemnised
by Bishop Carroll. It was the intervention of Senor
Casa-Trugo which gave rise to the mention in Napoleon's
letter of the presence of a Spaniard. Bishop Carroll was
an American. The marriage was celebrated with all the
formalities required by the Catholic laws; and although
Napoleon was right in his construction of the civil laws,
he encountered ecclesiastical obstacles in his application
to the Pope somewhat stronger than he anticipated, as
we shall see in the next paragraph. 3...;




WI,
From an exact copy of the original, which was made
in Paris thirty years ago, we here give the answer of
Pius VII. to the Emperor.
3. From the Vatican, June 26th, 1805.
EMPEROR AND ROYAL MAJESTY,--I beg your Majesty not to attri-
bute the delay in the return of the courier to any other cause than a
desire to employ all the means in our power to comply with the requests


420 JEROME BONAPARTE.
of your Majesty, communicated to us by the letter, which, together with
its accompanying documents, was handed to us by the courier himself.
In everything which depended upon us, viz., inviolable secresy, we
have felt honoured in yielding to the solicitations of your Majesty with
the most scrupulous exactness: hence we have confined entirely to
ourself the investigation of the petition concerning the judgment on the
marriage in question. .
In the crowd of affairs which overwhelm us, we have taken all the
care, and given ourselves all the trouble, to derive personally, from all
sources, the means of making the most careful researches to ascertain
if our Apostolic authority could furnish any method of satisfying the
wishes of your Majesty, which, considering their end, it would have
been very agreeable to us to second. But in"whatever light we have
considered it, the result of our examination has been, that of all the
motives that have been proposed which we can imagine, there is not
one which allows us to gratify your Majesty as we should be glad to do,
by declaring the nullity of the marriage. The three documents which
your Majesty has sent us, being based on principles contrary to each
other, are reciprocally destroyed. The first, setting aside all other
absolute impediments, pretends that there are only two which can apply
to the case, viz., difference of the religion of the contracting parties,
and the absence of the curate at the celebration of the marriage. The
second, rejecting these two impediments, deduces two others from the
want of the consent of the mother, and the relations of the young man,
a minor, and of the rape which is designated under the name of seduc-
tion. The third disagrees with the Second, and proposes as the motive
of nullity the want of consent of the curate of the husband, which it
pretends is necessary, since he has not changed his residence, because,
according to the disposition of the Council of Trent, the permission of
the curate of the parish is absolutely necessary in marriages.
But from an analysis of these conflicting opinions, it results that the
proposed impediments are four in number. On examining them sepa-
rately, however, it has not been possible to find one which, in the pre-
sent case, and according to the principles of the Church, can authorise
us to declare the nullity of the marriage contracted and already con-
summated. The difference of religion, considered by the Church as an
absolute impediment, does not obtain between two persons who have
been baptised, even when one of them is not in the Catholic communion.
This impediment obtains only in marriage contracted between a Chris-
tian and an Infidel. These marriages between Protestants and Catholics,
although disapproved of by the Church, are nevertheless acknowledged
as valid. . :


MISSION TO THE DEY OF ALGIERS. 421
This is but a brief extract from a long letter, in which
the Pontiff sweeps over the entire field of ecclesiastical
learning, showing at every step that there was no authority
vested in him, nor could any precedent be found in the
history of the Church, for dissolving the marriage; and, like
an honest man as he was, Pius VII. comes to the con-
clusion, which he unhesitatingly announces, that he neither
can nor will annul the marriage between Jerome Bonaparte
and Elizabeth Patterson. In the course the Emperor took
in this case there was not a shadow of justification, and he
cannot be vindicated ; and if a learned and complacent
Pontiff could not find in the library of the Vatican a
single precedent for so bad an act, we do not deem it our
duty to extend our search any further.
Finding that to persist in his opposition to the will of
his brother would defeat his object and only offer to him
a life of exile, and hoping that time would accomplish for
him what persuasion could not, he accepted a mission from
the Emperor to the Dey of Algiers, to demand the restora-
tion of Genoese sailors and citizens who had been cap-
tured on the Mediterranean and carried into slavery.
Young Jerome filled this embassy with ability, and ac-
quitted himself with great honour. He returned from the
expedition with 250 Genoese captives, and landed them
once more on the glad and free shores of their beautiful
and beloved city. Their return was celebrated by a gay
and gladsome festival; the young brother of the French
Emperor was accorded a triumph, and an arch was erected

to him, on which were inscribed in letters of light and gold,
“To the Young Neptune of the Sea.”
VII,
Early the following winter, he took the command of the
Veteran, a line-of-battle ship, and sailed for the third time
to the West Indies. Having executed his orders in a

422 - JEROME BONAPARTE.
cruise of eight months, he returned to France, capturing
on his way six English merchant-men. He was pursued
by an English fleet, and to escape a capture his vessel was
stranded on the coast of Brittany, but the crew were Saved.
When he reached Paris, he was decorated with the cordon
of the Legion of Honour, promoted to the rank of Admiral,
and created a Prince of the Empire.
But although success had attended all his maritime
attempts thus far, and the persuasions of Napoleon and
the flatteries of friends seemed to invite him to a career of
glory on the Sea, yet Jerome was not, after all, at heart a
sailor. He solicited from his brother service on the land,
and in a manner which showed that he had finally aban-
doned all intention of reaping honours on the ocean. In
November we trace him at the head of a column of soldiers
of Bavaria and Wurtemberg in the reduction of the for-
tresses of Silesia—the month after directing the blockade
of Glogan. He conducted himself with so much ability
that (in March, 1807) he was promoted to a General of
Division in the Grande Armée.
VIII.
Thus far, it is believed, the prince had not only kept up
a constant correspondence with his American wife, but he
had continued to entertain for her the same attachment
he felt in the beginning; but finding that every artifice
and attempt at persuasion failed with his brother, and
being assured that the American marriage never would
be recognised, he yielded at last, for the sake of peace,
and doubtless under the illusion of glory, to the imperial
policy of Napoleon, and immolated himself, to use his
own language, on the altar of the Napoleon dynastyl
The Emperor was affectionately attached to Jerome, and
he sought out for him a match which he thought would
secure his domestic happiness, a brilliant career, and at


MARRIES A PRINCESS OF Wu RTEMBERG. 423
the same time plant the roots of another associate dynasty
of the Bonapartes. On the 12th of August he married
the Princess Frederica Catherina, daughter of the King
of Wurtemberg. A few days after his marriage, he was
proclaimed King of Westphalia. On the 7th of the fol-
lowing December, an imperial decree was issued, contain-
ing the constitution of the new kingdom. It was pub-
lished the 15th of that month (the birthday of Jerome,
who had just completed his twenty-second year), and on
the 21st he made a public entry into his capital.
IX.
It ought to be a matter of no great surprise if this
group of Corsican boys and girls, who were thrown by
revolution and conquest high upon the summits of the
earth, did not display the loftiest qualities of statesman-
ship, or exemplify in every act of their lives the highest
political wisdom. Students of history in future ages will
doubtless contemplate the whole period as one without
precedent in the achievements of men and the convulsions
of nations. Nor will they read without astonishment
those pages which record the annals of the reigns of the
Bonaparte kings and princes; for, really, in tracing the
contrast between them and their contemporaries, prede-
cessors and successors of other dynasties, we must confess
that so far as royalty can honour human nature, and
much farther than it generally does, it did in the case of
the Bonapartes. But it should never be forgotten that
those were new kings and queens. They had not been
brought up under despotisms—they had none of the sow-
venirs of monarchy or tyranny to influence them. They
had no despotic precedents in their family to guide them
on the royal road which hereditary princes travel as they
trample down the rights of men. Along the road of
empire, they marched more like brave men than regal


424 r £º:
princes. In the case of Jerome, English historians parti-
cularly have indulged in elaborate descriptions of the
volatile and schoolboy conduct of the King of Westphalia.
It would not be strange if he diffused through his palace
the joyousness of his own youthful buoyancy; nor that he
should have gathered around him the gay companions of
his youth—any generous young king would have done
the same thing. But we have not heard that his palace
was disgraced by immoralities, or that he did not acquit
himself as becomes a king, and, more than that, a man,
A celebrated Scotch writer says that he played at leap-
frog with his courtiers in the royal palace. So did Henry
TV. ; but his plume at the battle of Navarre was the
oriflamme of France; and it was reserved for Jerome,
the King of Westphalia, to open the terrific slaughter of
Waterloo. . .” .
X.
It was said that, when the moment came for the young
King to deliver his address to the Council of State, one of
his Ministers put into his hands a speech which had been
prepared in the regular way, as speeches had been prepared
for other kings, Jerome, however, rose to his feet when the .
time came, and, with his thanks to the Minister, laying the
prepared speech on the council-table, delivered what he
had to say with fluency and grace; and he displayed withal
a degree of political knowledge, and an acquaintance with
the internal affairs of his State, which surprised his Council.
But he found his treasury empty, and the salaries of all the
employés of the Government several months in arrear;
and, like many other Christians, he was obliged to have
recourse to the Jews. He borrowed two millions of francs
of Isaac Jacobson, a banker. A few days after, a deputa-
tion of Israelites in Westphalia asked for an audience,
when they presented to the King a kind and loyal address,
to which the King said, “I like your address, gentlemen.

JEROME AS KING OF WESTPHALIA. 425
The clause of my Constitution which establishes the
equality of religions is in unison with my own heart. No
law ought to interfere with the exercise of the religious
worship of any man. Every subject ought to be as free
to observe the rules of his faith as the king himself. It
is the duty of the citizen only that the laws of the Govern-
ment ought to regulate. I hope I shall never have cause
to regret that Ifavour and protect the Israelites of my
kingdom.” . . 3.
Jerome was as good as his word. A Jew in his kingdom
was as good a man as a Christian, if he were as good a
citizen. Hence Westphalia became a Holy Land to the
tribes of Israel in Europe. Jews were admitted to public
offices. Says an English writer—“The Minister of State
was a Jew ; the Councillor of Finances was a Jew ; the
Commissary of War was a Jew ; the Superintendent of
Hospitals was a Jew ; the Burgomaster was a Jew.” This
Christian conduct of Jerome shocked the sensibilities of
many of the pious people of Europe. The English journals
rang with the scandal, and English books have been filled
with it to this day. The crime of Jerome was, that he
recognised in a descendant of Abraham—the oldest and
the only aristocrat worth mentioning—the title of man.
XI.
The court of Jerome was more like the well-regulated
reception-rooms of a republican President than the halls of
a King. A degree of familiarity and cordiality was wit-
nessed which offended many of the grey-headed courtiers
of the Continent ; but men soon began to respect the King,
and, forsooth, there was good cause for doing it. Like all
the Bonapartes, he began to tear down the effete, the old,
the dead, and build up the new, the fresh, the vigorous;
even in Westphalia the past, with its stagnant formulas,
gave way to the living, effervescing young age. He tore


426 JEROME BONAPARTE.
down a part of his capital, and sent for Grandjean, the
celebrated Parisian architect, to rebuild it. He began
public works all over his kingdom; and of him we may
say, as of the other princes of the Napoleon dynasty, if
they could have remained in power a single generation
longer, they would have cured mankind of despotism for
ever. It was this appreciation of the necessity of pro-
gress, this caring for the material and the primal wants of
man—the solicitude for whatever concerns the growth of
nations, the development of their resources, the extension
of their power—that stamped the Bonaparte kings with
that majestic seal which Macaulay affixes to the philosophy
of Bacon, when he says that under his tuition mankind
began to make progress; whereas, for many ages they had
been only marking time. .

XII.
Jerome was beloved by his subjects, and he managed
the affairs of his kingdom with discretion and ability.
Attempts have been made in various works, written at
the time, to depreciate his qualities for government; but
the 80 wenirs that yet remain of him in the territory he
once governed are grateful to him still. Not a moment
has passed since he ceased to reign on the throne of
Westphalia that he has not reigned in the hearts of his
people. In 1812 the Emperor summoned him to join in
the Russian expedition. He commanded the German
division, and, in the battle of Mihilow, a daring move-
ment was crowned with the most brilliant success. He
was unfortunate at Smolensko, and the Emperor, in a freak
of passion, dismissed him. Napoleon, however, regretted
it afterwards. In 1813, when the French were compelled
to evacuate Germany, Jerome was obliged to fly before
the march of the Russian and Saxon troops. He was
awakened in his palace on the morning of the 28th of




ABANDONS THE THRONE-WATERLOO, 427
September by the cannon of Czernicheft, who appeared at
the head of his Cossacks. Dressing himself in haste, he
mounted a horse; and, seeing it was vain to attempt to
withstand the overwhelming force brought against him,
he fled with his staff and the Ministers of State to
Coblentz. But the Cossacks did not long hold his capital,
and Jerome soon returned. In the meantime the Battle
of Leipsic had been fought ; but he did not get the news
till the 25th of October. That evening he left Cassel for
the last time, escorted by his body-guards. Several days
he remained at Cologne; but he was compelled at last to .
part with his devoted followers, when he fled to France.
XIII.
His amiable wife, the Princess Frederica, accompanied
her husband on his flight, and remained devoted to him
in the midst of all his reverses. On the abdication of the
Emperor, in 1814, they were compelled to fly from Paris.
On their way to Switzerland, the carriage of the Princess
was stopped by a gang of villains, acting in concert with
the allied armies. She was robbed of her money and
jewels, and compelled to depend on her equerry for money
to defray her expenses to the Canton of Berne, where her
husband had arrived by a different route, and was waiting
to greet her. :
Jerome and his wife took refuge in Trieste, where they
were at the time Napoleon landed from Elba. Murat,
then King of Naples, had provided a frigate, on which
the King of Westphalia embarked for France; and at the
meeting of the Champ de Mai, he took his seat in the
Chamber of Peers. The Battle of Waterloo was approach-
ing; and Napoleon, with all the military forces he could
drain from the Empire, marched to the scene of conquest.
Relying on the discretion and bravery of Jerome, he con-
fided to him the important work of opening that last
battle, to which he led a charge of 6000 men.
JEROME BonAPARTE.
loo was fought and lost amidst the ruins of
Napoleon's Empire, whose fragments were swept from the
face of Europe like chaff from the summer threshing-floor.
Jerome hastened back to Paris, and, after the abdication,
assumed a disguise which protected his life; and, wander-
ing from district to district, he at length obtained per-
mission from his father-in-law to join his wife at Wurtem-
berg. The same autumn, the King accorded to him the
castle of Elvangen for a residence, on condition he should
never leave it, and keep no French in his service. The
following year the King of Wurtemberg conferred upon
him the title of Count de Montfort ; but he still suffered
certain restrictions, which finally became so irksome that
he obtained leave to withdraw and settle in the Austrian
Empire. He purchased a magnificent château near
Vienna, and a noble mansion at Trieste, in one of which
he generally resided. He sometimes visited Florence and
§ Rome to see the other members of his family. By his
marriage with the Princess of Wurtemberg he had three
children—Jerome Napoleon, born in 1814; Matilda, born
in 1819; and Napoleon, born in 1823. A few words on
his American descendants. His son and only child by
Elizabeth Patterson, born at Camberwell in 1805, was
brought to America by his mother, and educated with care.
At an early age he was sent to Harvard University ; and
when he graduated, he immediately began the study of
law. He was admitted to the bar of Maryland, and would
doubtless have devoted himself to the practice of that pro-
fession, had not his marriage with a rich lady of Baltimore,
in addition to his own inheritance, given him so large an
estate as to demand his uninterrupted personal attention.
He visited Europe, and spent some years in travelling and
study. In the year 1832 he had a son, Napoleon Jerome
Bonaparte, who displayed at so early an age a taste for
military life that he was thoroughly prepared for West









N BONAPARTE.
ME NAPOLEO
JERO
#.



º
JEROME's AMERICAN DESCENDANTs, 429
Point, from which, after a full course, he had just gradu-
ated with the highest distinction. He has received his
commission in the army of the United States (June, 1852);
and no young officer has ever entered our service with
higher qualifications for his profession, more stirring an-
cestral souvenirs, or brighter prospects for fame, May the
future show that the Bonaparte stem can flourish also in
our own republican soil. .
Mr. Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte, now one of the
wealthiest and most respected citizens of Baltimore, has
devoted his life to books, to travel, to society, and to plant- .
ing. For many years he has cultivated large tracks of
land with great success, owing, doubtless, in no little
degree to the careful attention he has bestowed on the
subject of scientific agriculture, which multiplies so vastly
the generous products of the earth.
Since her divorce was proclaimed by the Imperial Senate.
of France and the Legislature of Maryland, Mr. Jerome
Napoleon Bonaparte's mother, Elizabeth Patterson, has --
lived an unmarried life. Opulent, highly educated, and §
gifted with qualities which have rendered her happiness in
a great measure independent of others, she has passed a
long, serene, and useful life, and doubtless feels now, in
the evening of her days, that it was no malicious fortune
which withheld from her a European diadem. The his-
tory of the family into which she married strikingly illus-
trates Shakspeare's words, “Uneasy lies the head that
wears a crown.” As time rolls on, such heads will lie
more uneasy still. . ...: '...'......
... . XIV.
More than half a century had swept by since the glo-
rious vision of Napoleon's star burst upon the world.
Thrones had risen and disappeared like brilliant but
transient meteors in the heavens. . At last men had nearly
forgotten that a Napoleon dynasty ever existed. That






430 RETURN of THE BonAPARTEs to PARIs.
it would ever be restored few believed, even in moments of
inspired hope. Its founder, his brothers and sisters, their
wives and husbands, were dead. The brows of so many
beautiful women which had been encircled with diadems
had mouldered; and the bright eyes which had flashed
in the radiance of imperial splendour had lost their light
in the tomb. The hands which had wielded the blade in
battle, and swayed the sceptres of kingdoms, had long
rested in the nerveless sleep of the dead,
One only of that family of kings and queens that had
worn a crown still remained. Jerome, the King of West-
phalia, the youngest of the brothers, heard the tocsin of
the Revolution of February, 1848, which ended the Bour-
bon dynasty, and once more he turned his face towards
France. The Bonapartes always go back to Paris; it is
now doubl sacred to them, for it is the sepulchre of the
Emperor. The flight of Louis Philippe proclaimed that
the long exile of the Bonapartes was ended.



ELISA.



*
,----ºw”xº~1:8...aw...”.6% **










431
MARIA-ANNA-ELIZA, GRAND DUCHEss
º OF TUSCANY.
. Born at Ajaccio, January s 1777; died at Trieste, August 9. 1820.
. I.
MARIA-ANNA-ELIZA, the eldest of Napoleon's three
sisters, was born January 8, 1777. At an early age she
was sent to the establishment of St. Cyr, which had been
founded by Louis XIV. under the patronage of Madame
de Maintenon. At this school she enjoyed every advan-
tage for intellectual culture and grace of manners; and
in her twentieth year, about the time of Napoleon's first
campaign in Italy, she married Felice Bacciochi, a noble-
man of Corsica, who held the rank of a captain of in-
fantry. Three years afterwards, while her husband was
with the army, on one of its campaigns, she went to
reside with her brother Lucien at Paris; he being at the
time Minister of the Interior. She was distinguished for
an extraordinary thirst for intelligence, appreciation of
art and literature, and delighted in the society of men of
learning and taste. Chateaubriand, La Harpe, and the
poet Fontanes, with many other men of genius and fame,
sought her society and appreciated her talents.
After the establishment of the Empire, Napoleon
(1805) consolidated the republics of Lucca and Piombino
into a principality, which he bestowed upon his sister
Eliza. At the same time her husband, Bacciochi, was
created a prince. He was a man of elegant manners and
considerable literary and artistic accomplishments. We
have been often amused to see British writers, some of
whom, doubtless, never passed beyond the Channel, speak
depreciatingly of the manners and refinement of these




432 MARIA-ANNA-ELIZA.
new-made princes and nobles of Napoleon's Empire.
Those who are familiar with the elegant manners of the
refined Italians read such slurs with a smile. Whatever
may be the crimes of the Italians, they have never been
accused by those who knew them of coarseness of manner,
or lack of refinement of mind and taste. .
II.
Having exhibited very superior qualities in her public
position as the Princess of Lucca, Eliza was in 1809
created Grand Duchess and Governess-General of Tus-
cany. Her disposition was more like Napoleon's than
either of his other sisters, or even his brothers. She had
an instinctive aptitude for public life, and conducted the
department of Foreign Affairs of her little State entirely
herself. She wrote her own letters to the French Mi-
nister; and in everything which concerned the honour or
the glory of her duchy she manifested the greatest
jealousy of French interference. The Minister of Foreign
Affairs of the Empire was often obliged by Napoleon to
yield to her demands; for she persisted so resolutely in
every requisition which she conceived the honour of her
State and the good of her subjects demanded that her
brother, who was often appealed to by his Minister, ended
by saying, “If she insists upon it, it must be done.”
She had the same taste for military parades and martial
display as distinguished Murat. She was often whole
days on horseback, organising battalions, disciplining her
army and cashiering her generals. Such a woman would
be likely to overshadow any gentleman whom fortune
made her husband. The Prince was a modest and un-
obtrusive man, but far from being effeminate. He was
destitute of none of those manly qualities which are
expected to distinguish the sterner sex; but Eliza was
masculine in her form, her habits, and her taste; and pre-


REIGN, CHARACTER, AND DEATH. 433
suming, doubtless, not a little on her relationship with the
Emperor, she conducted all the military reviews herself—
the Prince, her husband, acting in the humbler capacity
of aide-de-camp. But if in these respects she even affected
something of the brusquerie of her brother, she felt the
same earnest love for constructing public works. She had
thousands of men at work, building new roads, draining
marshes, cultivating deserted wastes, establishing semina-
ries for education—in fact, the most of her time was
spent in these noble pursuits or in the mimicry of battle
—martial fºtes and reviews. Williams, a young English
traveller, who was not very lavish of his compliments to
the Bonaparte family, says that she was greatly beloved
by her subjects, and during her reign Lucca became a
paradise.
. III.
When Murat made his entry into Rome (January,
1814), he sent forward his troops to march upon Parma.
The Grand T)uchess saw that resistance would be in vain
against the superior force of her brother-in-law ; and she
retired to Lucca, where she remained till the following
year, when the allied armies took possession of all Italy,
and she was sent to join her sister Caroline in Bohemia.
Some members of the Bonaparte family seemed to have
a great liking for Trieste, and, among them, Eliza re-
quested permission from the Austrian Government to
reside there. This request was granted, and she spent the
rest of her days there with all the luxury which wealth
and refinement could bestow She died on the 9th of
August, 1820, leaving an honoured name, and having dis-
played many of the elements of an exalted character.
Napoleon himself received the news not long before his
own death. When the intelligence reached him, he
retired into a room by himself, where he remained for
Several hours. No event during his long º had made
. F.
434 | MARIA-ANNA-ELIZA.
him so sad ; and when his attendants entered to awake
him from the stupor of his grief, he replied, “Yes, Eliza
has gone—she has shown us the way. I used to think that
death had forgotten our family; but now he has begun
to strike. He has taken Eliza, and I shall be the first to
follow her.” He was. Her husband took up his resi-
dence in Bologna after the death of his wife, where he
maintained a princely style of hospitality. They had two
children—Napoleonne Eliza, born June 3, 1806, and
Jerome Charles, Prince of Piombino, born July 3, 1810.
The daughter married Count Camerata; and by both
children, we believe, numerous descendants have been
born. x * º --
Madame Junot says—“The Grand Duchess of Tuscany
was ill-made; her bones were square and prominent, and
her limbs seemed tacked to her body just as it happened.”
The Prince of Canino (Lucien), who was much taller and
larger than his brothers, exhibited the same want of
harmony in his form as the Grand Duchess of Tuscany.
There is one point of general resemblance—the counte-
nance of Madame Mère-in which all her eight children
might be recognised not only in the features, but in the
peculiar expression of each. She entertained a great
admiration for Voltaire; and on one occasion, when the
Emperor had pronounced a certain drama of the time of
Louis XIV, to be good for nothing, she immediately com-
menced an attack on Corneille, the grounds of which
were taken from Voltaire's notes, which are certainly
neither impartial nor just in any point of view. The
Emperor probably felt a little irritated at an attempt to
refute him, particularly as he knew that his sister was,
wrong. The disquisition grew warm, and angry words
passed between them. At length Napoleon left the room,
exclaiming, “This is intolerable ! You are absolutely a
caricature of the Duchess du Maine!” º












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PAULINE BONAPARTE,

iv.
MARIA PAULINE, PRINCEss BORGHESE.
Born at Ajaccio, October 20, 1780; died at Florence, June 9, 1825. .
PAULINE was born twelve years after her brother Napo-
leon. When the family were compelled to fly from
Corsica, she was yet a little girl. From her childhood,
however, she was regarded as extremely beautiful. Napo-
leon loved her better than either of his sisters; and
although she was wayward, coquettish, frivolous, and vain, .
she was always fascinating in her manner, elegant in her
accomplishments, exquisite in her taste, and the world
has long known that Canova chose her as the most peer-
less model of beauty in face and form in all Europe,
After the exile of the family to Marseilles, she was very
much admired and caressed by the officers of the Go-
vernment and others who saw her, and she received the
most brilliant offers of marriage from persons of distinction,
although the family had at that time none of the means
of luxury, and were deprived even of many of the comforts
of life,
In 1801, Pauline married General Le Clerc. He was a
man of brilliant genius, and would, doubtless, have
adorned the most splendid period of Napoleon's Empire.
Immediately after the marriage he received the command
of the French army in Portugal, and was subsequently in-
trusted with the expedition to St. Domingo. His wife
accompanied him on the voyage. He was unfortunate in
the expedition, and fell a victim to the climate. Pauline
at once prepared to return to France; and having with a






436 MARIA PAULINE.
pardonable precaution deposited her treasures in the triple
coffin which carried her husband to his native country,
she sailed for France. She fortunately escaped the hazards
which attended almost every maritime expedition of her
Country at that time ; and the suddenness with which she
merged in the voluptuous pleasures of the capital, and the
gaiety she displayed, gave just reason for the remark which
has frequently been made, that the marriage was doubtless
one of convenience, and that she had never been much
attached to her husband.
-- - W. -
Two years later (Nov., 1803) she contracted an alliance
with Prince Borghese, a man of great elegance and wealth.
Descended from one of the proudest Italian families which,
had flourished for many centuries and held the highest
stations in the state, the proprietor of one of the most
magnificent villas in the neighbourhood of Rome, and the
possessor of perhaps the richest private gallery of art in
Europe, with an income of 250,000 dollars a-year from
his own estates and a dowry of 2,500,000 dollars with his
young wife, and the revenues of Guastalla and Piacenza,
it was regarded as not only a proper, but decidedly the
most brilliant matrimonial alliance that was formed during
the entire ascendency of Napoleon. The marriage took
place in Paris, with every circumstance of pomp and
splendour; and from the moment the wedding pair started
till their greeting in the halls of the ancestors of the
'Prince Borghese, every league of the journey was like a
triumphal progress. For a great distance Pauline was
attended by a guard of honour sent by her brother; and
as the sister of Napoleon, and the wife of the most dis-
tinguished prince in Italy, she received royal honours at
every town and village. - º
Pauline was the idol of the brilliant circle that now
gathered around her; and she must have been a woman of






CHARACTER AND ACCOMPLISHMENTs of PAULINE. 437
almost superhuman virtue, judgment, and discretion, to
have resisted with entire success the fascinations that
played around every step. With nothing left on earth to
sigh for that opulence, station, beauty, health, and accom-
plishments of every nature could command, warm-hearted
and generous, sensitive and vain, her heart, after all, con-
stituted the only field for adventure and the only scene
for conquest. . . .
Her husband was somewhat indolent in his disposition,
and, like indolent men, was jealous of the activity of
others. His wife was regarded as the most beautiful
woman in Europe; and although his jealousy was doubt-
less inflamed by many an Iago, and multitudes of writers
have re-echoed the scandals that were spread at the time,
no satisfactory evidence has ever been adduced, in any
quarter, that Pauline was not a virtuous woman. Those
who were mainly instrumental in originating and circu-
lating these slanders at the time about her were the very
persons who had endeavoured to load the name of Jose-
phine with obloquy. Still, Pauline's manners, like those
of other women who far excel the rest of their sex in per-
sonal charms, were more winning and fascinating than
ugliness ever learns to display. Those who saw her could
not withhold their admiration ; and when gallant and
handsome men extended this homage to adoration, she,
like many other beautiful women, could not escape it.
But the blood of Madame Mère was in her veins; and the
Bonapartes, especially the women of that family, have
always been too proud and haughty to degrade themselves.
Even had they lacked what is technically called “moral
character,” their virtue has been entrenched behind their
ancestry, and the achievements of their own family. Nor
was there at any time an Instant when any one of the
Bonapartes could have overstepped, by a hair's breadth,
the line of decency, without being fatally exposed. None





438 ...: MARIA PAULINE,
of them pursued the noiseless tenor of their way along the
vale of obscurity. They were walking in the clear sun-
shine, on the topmost summits of the earth, and millions
of enemies were watching every step they took. The
highest genius of historians, the bitterest satire of drama-
tists, the meanest and most malignant pens of the jour-
nalists, have assailed them for more than half a century;
and yet the republican who dares to lift the veil from the
domestic life of the families of the old dynasties of Europe
is branded as a slanderer. A recent instance in point—
vide the attacks upon Lord Holland for a few glimpses he
has afforded us of the morals of the European courts.
We have written these words because a republican is
the only man likely to speak well even of the good things
of the Bonaparte family. It was, and is, and will be the
dynasty of the people—standing there, from 1804, a
fearful antagonism against the feudal age, and its souvenirs
of oppression and crime. ; : . . . …} : : «
..- . VI. . . . . .: -
Pauline was doubtless imperious, and it would have
been a miracle if she had been always a gentle and sub-
missive wife. A separation was finally agreed on, and the
haughty and beautiful princess returned to Paris. She
divided her time between the Tuileries and the elegant
château of Neuilly. She sometimes presumed on the
favour and affection of her brother; and he indulged her
in all her caprices, and gave his homage even to her fasci-
nations; but whenever she laid her tapered finger upon
the lowest wheel of his imperial administration, he rebuked
her with the sternness and ferocity of a lion. The profli-
gate Fouché, who played the part of political scavenger to
kings, queens, reigns, and revolutions, till his grey locks.
went down in infamy to the grave, wrote a book called his
“Mémoires.” It is filled with lies which nobody ever be-
lieved, and it finally divested him of thereputation he had



PAULINE BANISHED FROM THE COURT. 439
long enjoyed of being the “cleverest” man in Europe.
Fouché wrote so many improbable lies in his book that even
his truths were rejected. Sir Walter Scott, who has
never been accused of eulogising Napoleon or any of the
Bonaparte family, in reply to an odious story started by
Fouché about Pauline and her brother, says, “The gross
and guilty enormities of the ancient Roman Emperors do
not belong to the character of Bonaparte, though foul
aspersions have been cast upon him by those who are
willing to represent him as in all respects a counterpart of
Tiberius and Caligula.” - .
. VII. . -
The marriage of Napoleon with Maria Louisa inter-
fered somewhat with the reign of Pauline in the world of
taste, fashion, and beauty. After the divorce of Josephine,
she had been the central star of the court. On the ar.
rival of the Archduchess of Austria, Pauline's light paled
before the imperial majesty of the new Empress. She
withdrew from the court ; and when she was presented to
Maria Louisa at Brussels, she impertinently made some
gesture behind the Empress's back in derision of the
Autrichienne. A tittering, which could not be suppressed,
went round the saloon. Napoleon himself had been look-
ing on Pauline, and thus detected her in the act The
next morning she received a peremptory order which
banished her from the court. She retired to Rome in
exile and disgrace, where she remained in one of the
palaces of her husband, still the centre of a brilliant circle,
till the retirement of her brother to Elba. We observe
one curious circumstance in the history of each of the
brothers and sisters of Napoleon—even those with whom
he had differed most, those who had injured him, and
whom he had insulted, all forgave and forgot their in-
juries and animosities when he was hurled from the sub-
limity of his throne to the depth of his exile. Pauline, too,






440 MARIA PAULINE,
flew to France, and saw her brother just before his retire-
ment to Elba; and in October, with three of her maids of
honour, she sailed for Elba in the Emperor's vessel of war,
sent for her to Naples. Napoleon received her with every
mark of affection; had a little boudoir built for her in the
garden, where she gave her balls and concerts. Pauline
was one of the principal confidants of the Emperor when
he was meditating his return to France. It is not a
Small compliment to her talents that he confided to her
one of the most important parts of that strange and dif-
ficult drama. She had placed most of her fortune and
nearly all her private jewels at his disposal; and so well
did she play her part that, even on the very night of the
escape from Elba, she entertained a large company at a
Soirée, with the same thoughtless gaiety and elegant non-
chalance which had characterised her lightest and most
thoughtless days. * . . . . .
VIII.
The Reign of the Hundred Days was ended—Napo-
leon had been long in exile on the rock of St. Helena.
In July, 1821, when Pauline had received intelligence
that the Emperor's life was drawing to a close, she wrote
an earnest appeal to the Earl of Liverpool, then Prime
Minister of the British Government, in which she says—
“The malady by which the Emperor is attacked will
prove mortal at St. Helena. In the name of all the
members of the family, I ask for a change of climate. If
so reasonable a request be denied, it will be a sentence of
death pronounced on him. In which case, I beg permis-
sion to depart for St. Helena, to join my brother, and
receive his parting breath. I know that the moments of
his life are numbered; and I should eternally reproach
myself if I did not use all the means in my power to
assuage the sufferings of his last hours, and prove my
devotion to him.” --- . ..º.º.


HER BEAUTY, 441
Lord Liverpool granted the request in a letter which
will always be cited to his honour. But the permission
arrived too late—Napoleon was dead. r .
After this period Pauline kept up her establishment at
Rome with great splendour in the Borghese Palace, her
husband choosing to reside at Florence. She spent a
portion of the year in the Villa Paolina, a beautiful
palace within the city of Rome. Her residences were
marked by an unprecedented degree of elegance, refine-
ment, and hospitality. Besides all the entertainments
she gave on a larger scale, for her circles of private friends
she held concerts and soirées every week. The latter were
attended by the chief personages of Rome; among others
there was always seen a large number of cardinals,
her uncle, Cardinal Fesch, being from the relationship as
much at home there as in his own palace. .”
IX.
Madame Junot, who knew her intimately, thus draws
her portrait “Many people have extolled her beauty;
this is known from even portraits and statues of her;
still it is impossible to form any idea of what this lady
then was, because she was not generally known till her
return from St. Domingo, when she was already faded, and
nothing but the shadow of that exquisitely beautiful
Pauline whom we sometimes admired as we do a fine
statue of Venus or Galatea.”
Pauline always dressed in more exquisite taste than any
woman in France, except Josephine ; and as we wish to
convey to our readers some exact idea of her classic beauty,
we will give a brief description of her appearance at a
ball in the house of Madame Permon, the mother of the
Duchess d'Albrantes, who says, “ Her head-dress consisted
of bandelettes (of a very soft kind of fur, of a tiger
pattern), surmounted by bunches of grapes in gold. She

442 MARIA PAULINE.
was a faithful copy of a Bacchante, such as are seen in
antique statues or cameos: the form of her head, and the
classic regularity of her features, emboldened her to
attempt an imitation which would have been hazardous
in most women. Her robe of exquisitely fine India
muslin had a deep bordering of gold—the pattern was of
grapes and vine-leaves. With this she wore a tunic of
º the purest Greek form, with a bordering similar to her
dress, which displayed her fine figure to admirable ad-
vantage. This tunic was confined on the shoulders by
cameos of great value. The sleeves, which were very
short, were lightly gathered on small bands, which were
also fastened with cameos. Her girdle, which was
placed below the bosom, as is seen in the Greek statues,
consisted of a gold band, the clasp of which was a su-
perbly cut antique stone. Her entrance seemed abso-
lutely to illumine the room.” .” .”



:* --- - “s.
ºutſ
§
MARIE CAROLINE LOUISE.
/3 NZX



4 43
- X. 4; -
CAROLINE-MARIA ANNONCIADA, quEEN
OF NAPLES.
Born at Ajºie, March 26, 1782; died at Florence, May 18, 1839.
CAROLINE, Napoleon's youngest sister, was still a child
when her brother became Chief of the French nation.
Her sisters had known adversity; she found herself in
the midst of luxury and splendour the first moment she
entered society. Madame Junot says of her at this time,
“Caroline Bonaparte was a very pretty girl, fresh as a
rose—not to be compared, for the regular beauty of her
features, to Pauline, though more pleasing, perhaps, by the ::::::::::
expression of her countenance and the brilliancy of her
complexion, but by no means possessing the perfection of
figure which distinguished her elder sister. Her head
was disproportionately large, her bust was too short, her
shoulders were too round; but her hands and her arms were
models, and her skin resembled white satin seen through
pink glass, her teeth were fine, as were those of all the
Bonapartes; her hair was light. As a young girl, Caro-
line was charming. When her mother brought her to
Paris, in 1798, her beauty was in all its rosy freshness.
1Magnificence did not become hel ; brocade did not hang
well on her figure, and one feared to see her delicate com-
plexion fade under the weight of diamonds and rubies.”
She was a companion of Hortense at Madame Campan's,
where sh
XI.
On the return of the First Consul from Egypt, he in-
tended to marry his sister Caroline to Moreau, and at one
acquired every elegant accomplishment.





444 CAROLINA-MARIA-ANNONCIADA.
*
time he had designed her hand for Augereau. But she
was passionately in love with Murat, who being also
enamoured of her, their mutual request was immediately
granted by Napoleon, and their marriage took place in
January, 1800. It was in the month of October of the
same year that the plot of the infernal machine was
carried into execution. On this occasion Caroline nearly
lost her life. She was on her way to the opera, near the
carriage of Napoleon and Josephine. Every glass in her
carriage was shattered, and the shock she suffered was so
great that her child, who was born soon after, suffered
for a long time with epileptic attacks and a feeble con-
stitution. Five years later, Caroline was created Grand
Duchess of Berg, and two years afterwards she became
Queen of Naples. - - .
During the eight years she sat on that throne, she
managed to win the affections of her people; and as she
was fond of magnificence and display, and distinguished
for great generosity, she was one of the most popular
princesses in Europe. She made frequent journeys to
Paris, where she lived in a style of splendour worthy of
the most brilliant queens. In the sketch of Murat we
shall speak of her Neapolitan life more in detail. As
might very naturally be supposed, Caroline took sides
with her brother in his differences with Murat; and things
went so far that at last a separation seemed likely to take
place. It would probably have been effected at a later
period, had not a melancholy fate deprived her beforehand
of her husband; but they seemed to have been after all sin-
cerely attached to one another, and even as late as the
Battle of Dresden we find Caroline addressing to her hus-
band the following letter. - - .
SIRE,-Your letters respecting the brilliant Battle of Dresden, in
which you took so glorious a part, reached me just as I was going to


DRIVEN FROM NAPLES. '445
take the little voyage I had projected in the gulf; and it was amid the
thunder of the cannon which you directed to be fired that I went on
board, rejoicing in your success, and still more rejoicing at finding my-
self free from all uneasiness respecting your health. . r
According to your instructions, I have ordered Te Deum to be per-
formed. I send your Majesty the proceedings of administration,
together with the ordinary statements and reports, and some particular
demands, on which it will be for you to determine. I annex to these
three reports of the Intendant-General. . . . . . The Prince Royal
set off the day before yesterday to make the circuit of the Bay, on the
same vessel; he returned quite enchanted. The Princesses are to go
to-morrow, with Lucien for their beau. ... 3 ...: *:
I don’t know whether you receive my letters; but I write to you very
often. Everything is perfectly calm and tranquil, and I hope you will
be so too. I have ordered Camponelle to send you everything you may
stand in need of, and told him to get some woollen hosiery, which will
be very comfortable to you in travelling. I send you a box of liquorice
for the Emperor. Present my respects to him. Adieu, my friend;
take care of yourself, I beg you, and think of us. I embrace you as I
love you. - . r CAROLINE.
XIII.
In the month of March, 1815, when the reverses of
Napoleon's arms and the advance of the Austrian army
into the kingdom of Naples drove Murat from his king-
dom, Caroline displayed great decision of character; and
her conduct at the trying period when she lost her crown
and went into exile has elicited the praises of all con-
temporaneous historians. Naples was filled with alarm,
Dressing herself in the uniform of the National Guard,
and mounting a spirited horse, she reviewed the troops,
and addressed them in a style which would have done no
discredit to a conqueror on the eve of battle. She was
on horseback more than six hours during the last day of
her reign; and it was only at the final moment, when all
hope was gone, that she gave herself up to the English
naval commander, and went on board his vessel with her
children. She had been assured a free passage to France,
with her suite, by the English commodore; but this pledge
446. CAROLINA-MARIA-ANNONCIADA,
was also broken, of course, under the specious pretext
that the commander had exceeded his instructions.
Disgusted at the outrage, she abandoned the protection of
the English flag, and threw herself into the hands of the
Austrians. º ;:::... :::... . . . .”
Assuming the title of Countess of Lipano, she took up
her residence in the dominions of the Austrian Emperor,
with an engagement not to return to France or Italy
without express permission. She obtained leave in 1830,
when her venerable mother was supposed to be near her
death, to proceed to Rome on a visit for a month. When
the time was up, she returned again to her Austrian
residence, but soon took up her abode in Florence, where
she died in 1839. ‘. . . . . . . . . .
A single word on the character of Caroline. She was,
perhaps, more imperious and petulant than any of her
sisters, not even excepting Pauline. When the imperial
crown was put upon the head of Napoleon, his sisters all
wanted to be made queens. Joseph being the first of the
brothers raised to a throne, his sisters found it very hard
to address his wife as “Your Majesty;” and they com-
plained to him that he had treated the wife of his brother
with more favour than he had even his own sisters. “To
hear your complaints,” said Napoleon, “one would sup-
. pose that I had robbed you of your succession to the late
king, your father.” But Caroline was an estimable
woman, a good wife, a kind mother, a generous sister,
and a noble queen, . . . ... --





IET GENE BEA.I. H.A.RNAIS,


EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS.
Born in Brittany, September 3, 1780; Died at Munich, January 21, 1824.
AMONG the shining names in the galaxy of the Beau-
harnais family stands conspicuous the name of Eugene,
son of Viscount Alexander and Josephine Beauharnais.
In all the vicissitudes of his eventful life, as a son and
brother, dutiful and affectionate; as an adopted son and
recipient of favour, grateful and true; as a soldier, valiant
and skilful, as a husband and father, fulfilling every
duty in the social relations; as a commander and viceroy,
remarkable for bravery, honour, integrity, humanity, and
love of order and justice; as a friend, faithful and sin-
cere; in short, as a man in every vocation of life to which
he was called, acting well his part, and leaving behind .
him an unblemished reputation. We may add that,
under a simple exterior, he concealed a noble character
and great talents. Wise in council, undaunted in the
field, he was moderate in the exercise of power; and he
never appeared greater than in the midst of the reverses
of fortune and the peculiar trials he was called upon to
endure. Such was Eugene Beauharnais,
Eugene was born in the province of Brittany (Septem-
ber 3, 1780), and received his early education at the
college of St. Germain-en-Laye. Being destined for a
military life, at the age of twelve he is said to have been
with Hoche in La Vendée , and he was with his father
on the Rhine, his mother and sister being at Martinique.
During the Reign of Terror the father of Eugene


4.48 EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS.
perished on the scaffold, and his mother was thrown into
prison. On her release, after the fall of Robespierre,
Eugene was bound an apprentice to a joiner, which trade
he actually learned, while his sister was placed with a
mantua-maker. In the life of Josephine we have related
that it was through Eugene she became acquainted with
Napoleon. It was on the occasion of his calling on General
Bonaparte to request that his father's sword might be
restored to him.
On the marriage of his mother with Napoleon, Eugene
was placed on the staff of the General, but he continued
to live with his mother in Paris until the summer of 1797,
when he joined the army of Italy at Milan. On his
arrival he entered the service as aide-de-camp to Napoleon,
who felt for him an affection which was justified by his
good qualities. The following year he accompanied the
Commander-in-Chief on the expedition to Egypt. Having
participated in the first actions of the French army in
Egypt, on the entrance into Cairo he was sent by Napo-
leon to compliment Murad Bey's wife. She received him
on her grand divan, in the harem, to which he was
admitted by special exception as the envoy of “Sultan
Keebir,” the name given by the Arabs to Napoleon. All
the wo to see the handsome young Frenchman.
The wife of Murad Bey, although not less than fifty, was
still distinguished for beauty and grace. When coffee
and sherbet had been served, she took from her finger a
valuable ring and presented it to the young officer, and
Sent I requests to the General, who always pro-
tected her. . º
Eugene co-operated with Croissier, a fellow aide-de-camp,
in the Sanguinary affairs at Cairo and Jaffa. He endea-
voured to save the lives of the prisoners taken at Jaffa,
but his humane efforts were in vain. We may well sup-
* ... I *g

EUGENE's PRIVATE AND PUBLIC CHARACTER. 449
pose that Eugene was not sorry to leave the scenes of
suffering and horror which he was compelled to witness
in Egypt and Syria, and to return to France with Napo-
leon. He arrived in Paris in October, 1799.
It was owing to Eugene and Hortense that a recon-
ciliation was brought about betw Napoleon and
Josephine on the return from Egypt. wº
Eugene was with his mother, in Paris, on the revolution
of the 18th Brumaire. On the establishment of the court
of the First Consul at the Tuileries, he formed one of
its brilliant circle. He is described by the Duchess
d'Albrantes “as a most charming and amiable young man,
attractive and elegant in his person. Frankness and
hilarity pervaded all his actions; he was good-natured,
gracious, polite without being obsequious, and a mimic
without being impertinent—a rare talent. He performed
well in comedy, sang a good song, and danced, as his father
(who was called the beau dansewn in his time) had done
before him.” . . . . . . . . . . . . .'; ...?
The First Consul appointed Eugene chef d'escadron in
the Consular Guards, in which capacity he accompanied
the army to Italy, and distinguished himself at the Battle
of Marengo. In 1804 he was made colonel-general of the
Consular Guards. He was created a Prince of the Em-
ire, and also Chancellor of State. In June, 1805, at the
tion at Milan, Eugene was made viceroy of the
m of Italy, which comprised Lombardy and the
northern Papal provinces; and he immediately entered
upon the duties of his office, his residence being fixed at
Milan. .
Early in 1806 he was declared the adopted son of Napo-
leon ; and, by the influence of the Emperor, he solicited
and obtained the hand of Augusta-Amelia, the eldest
daughter of the King of Bavaria. They were married at






. 2 G
450, EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS.
Munich, January 13, 1806. In the same year, the
Venetian States being annexed to the Italian kingdom,
Eugene was created Prince of Venice, and declared suc-
cessor to the iron crown of Lombardy. jºš.
- As Viceroy of Italy, Eugene was popular with the
citizens as well as the army. His frank bearing and
affable temper, with his humane disposition, made him
many friends. He displayed activity and system in the
details of his administration; his viceregal court was
splendid, but he was frugal in his own expenditure. He
embellished Milan with public walks and buildings, and
encouraged manufactures and the arts. His gallery of
paintings was one of the most magnificent in Europe.
Entirely devoted to the Emperor, he implicitly obeyed and
enforced his decrees, though he occasionally endeavoured to
obtain some mitigation of them when harsh or oppressive.
In the war of 1809, between France and Austria,
Eugene took the command of the French and Italian
army on the frontiers towards Carinthia, but he was
obliged to retire before the superior forces of the Arch-
duke John; and, after sustaining considerable loss, he
withdrew to the Adige, where he received reinforcements,
Upon the defeat of the main Austrian army in Germany,
the Archduke marched back towards Vienna, and was
closely followed by Eugene. A battle took place near
the river Piave, in which the Austrians were defeated,
Eugene followed them on their retreat, and made his
junction with Napoleon's grand army at Ebersdorf, near
Vienna. He was thence sent into Hungary. On the
14th June he defeated the Archduke John at Raab, and
subsequently distinguished himself at the Battle of
Wagram, which put an end to the war,
He visited Paris, to be present at the declaration of
the divorce of his mother. On that painful occasion he




CLOSE OF EUGENE's cAREER. 451
made a speech to the Senate, in which he dwelt on the
duty of obedience to the Emperor, to whom he and his
family acknowledged themselves under great obligations.
On the 3rd of March, 1810, Napoleon appointed
Eugene successor of the Prince Primate of the Confedera-
tion of the Rhine, who had been created Grand Duke of
Frankfort. In 1812 he joined Napoleon in the Russian
campaign, with part of the Italian army, taking command
of the fourth corps of the Grand Army, and was engaged
at the battles of Mohilow and Moscow. In the disastrous
retreat he succeeded in keeping together the remnants of
his own troops, and maintaining some order and disci-
pline. After Napoleon and Murat had left the army, he
took the chief command. At Majedbourg he collected
the relics of the various corps; and at the Battle of Lutzen,
May 2, 1813, he commanded the left wing of the new
army which Napoleon had raised. Soon after he returned
to Milan to raise new conscriptions to replace the soldiers
who had perished in Russia, and to provide for the de-
fence of Italy against Austria. Three levies of 15,000
conscripts each were ordered in the course of the year, in
the kingdom of Italy alone; but the people were tired of
war, and it was difficult to collect the required numbers
for the army. The news of the Battle of Leipsic added
to the general discontent; and in October, 1813, Eugene
fell back on the Adige, the Austrians having entered
Italy. In March, 1814, being attacked by the Austrians
on one side, and the Neapolitans on the other, Eugene
withdrew to the Mincio, and removed his family and pro-
perty from Milan to the fortress of Mantua. On the 16th
of April Eugene and Marshal Belligarde, the Austrian
commander, signed a convention, by which hostilities
Were suspended, the French troops sent away from Italy,
and Venice and other fortified places delivered up to
Austria. The kingdom of Italy had ceased to exist, and
Napoleon had abdicated,


452 EUGENE BEAUHARNAIs.
. W, ... --..... -------------
An unsuccessful attempt was made by the friends of
Eugene to obtain his nomination as King of Lombardy.
He gave up Mantua to the Austrians, and fled with his
family to Munich, where he was kindly received by his
father-in-law, the King of Bavaria. He had been at his
father-in-law's court but a few days before he was sum-
moned to France by the death of his mother. He was
courteously received by Louis XVIII., who addressed
him not as General, but Prince. By the Treaty of Paris
a suitable establishment was to be assigned him; and he
repaired to Vienna to solicit the favour of the congress of
allied sovereigns. While there the Emperor Alexander
honoured him with special marks of regard, and proposed
that he should be made the sovereign of a small princi-
pality. But the return of Napoleon from Elba changed
the views of the Emperor of Russia. It was suspected
that Eugene had informed Napoleon of the supposed
intention of the allied sovereigns to transfer him to St.
Helena; and the suspicion was strengthened when a decree
of Napoleon enrolled Eugene among the new peers of
France. The King of Bavaria prevented the arrest of
Eugene by the Austrian Government, as he had gone to
Vienna under his protection. Being no longer an object
of favour with the allied sovereigns, Eugene retired to
Munich, assuming the titles of Duke of Leuchtenberg and
Prince of Eichstadt. The Bavarian principality of Eich-
stadt was bestowed upon him, and his posterity declared
capable of inheriting, in case of the failure of the Bava-
rian line. .
With the consent of the Pope, Eugene retained some
estates in the northern part of the Papal dominions. The
restored Bourbon King of Naples also agreed to pay him
five millions of francs. These grants were intended as a



DEATH of Eugene. - 453
compensation for the loss of the yearly income of a million
of francs assigned to him by Napoleon from the national
domain of Italy, ... : *:::::: .
§ *::: ; VI, . -
In 1817, on the marriage of the Emperor of Austria
with a Bavarian princess, Eugene, who then resided with
his father-in-law, considered himself disrespectfully treated.
He and his family, therefore, took up their abode for a
time with his sister Hortense, near the Lake of Constance,
in Switzerland. He afterwards returned to Munich,
where he died of an organic disorder of the brain, on the
21st of January, 1824, in the forty-fourth year of his age.
Eugene left six children—two sons and four daughters.
His eldest daughter, Josephine Maximilienne, was married
in 1823 to Oscar Bernadotte, now King of Sweden; the
second, Hortense Eugenia, was the wife of the Prince of
Hohenzollern Heichingen; the third daughter, Amelia
Eugenia, in 1829, was married to the late Don Pedro,
Emperor of Brazil; the fourth married a Count of Wur-
temberg. His eldest son, the Duke Augustus, married,
in 1845, Donna Maria, Queen of Portugal, but died soon
after the nuptials; the youngest son, Maximilian, Duke
of Leuchtenberg, married, in 1839, the Grand Duchess
Maria, daughter of Nicholas, Emperor of Russia,


454.
NAPOLEON FRANCIS JOSEPH, DUKE OF
REICHSTADT.
Born in Paris, March 20, 1811; Died at Vienna, July 22, 1831.
WHEN Napoleon first abdicated at Fontainbleau (April,
1814), the King of Rome was taken by his mother to
Vienna, at the wish of Francis of Austria, who for the
first time then saw the child. In 1815, after his father's
Second abdication (which the allied sovereigns would not
accept in favour of his son), young Napoleon was placed
under the guardianship of his grandfather, the Emperor
of Austria, by whose directions he was educated as a
German Prince. His title of “King of Rome” was
changed to that of “Duke of Reichstadt.” z
He early evinced a taste for a military life, and was
educated in that profession. In the prosecution of this
design, and to divert his mind from another model, the
example of Prince Eugene of Savoy was proposed for his
imitation. To cut off all intercourse with the agitators
and adventurers of France, he was carefully secluded
from communication with any persons except his atten-
dants or instructors. This precaution, although it was
accompanied with the amplest indulgences in all other
respects, was felt as an irksome restraint, to which a re-
collection of earlier years gave a keener edge ; and ideas
of his father's fame and grandeur perpetually haunted his
imagination. To the study of the German language he
at first evinced a decided repugnance, which, however, he
afterwards overcame ; but he had little inclination for
literature. He had an early and radical dislike for fiction.


§
EDUCATION of NAPOLEON's SON. 455
Turing his education at Schoenbrunn, his tutors were
much perplexed by his extreme curiosity with regard to
his father, and the circumstances and causes of his fall,
It was evident that the restless spirit of Napoleon pos-
sessed the mind of his son. His instructors were directed
by the Austrian court to acquaint him with the whole
truth, means of allaying the alarming and feverish
anxiety of his mind. This plan had the desired effect;
but he was thoughtful and reserved upon the subject of
his life and fortunes, . ; : : . . . .
When the news of his father's death was communi-
cated to him by M. Foresti, he was deeply affected. He
was taught the learned languages; but to these studies
he paid little attention, Caesar's Commentaries being the
only Latin book he seriously read. He devoted himself
with ardour to military studies. He also left some proofs
of literary industry. Among the papers of the Prince,
in Italian, is a sketch of the life of Prince Schwartzenberg.
From his fifteenth year he was permitted to read any
book on the history of Napoleon and the French Revolu-
tion. At length he was initiated into the policy of the
Austrian Cabinet. Accordingly, Prince Metternich, under
the form of lectures on history, gave him the whole theory
of imperial government. These lectures produced the
effect desired; and he was thoroughly imbued with the
doctrines of absolutism.
The Revolution of 1830 produced a startling effect on
the young Prince. He was not informed of the perti-
nacity with which his uncle Joseph urged his claims to
the crown of France; least of all could the prince
have been aware of the effect which would have been
produced at that time in France, had he suddenly made
his appearance there, while the people were hesitating
about accepting Lafayette's nomination of the Duke of
Orleans, * - º



456 NAPOLEON FRANCIS. JOSEPH.
He first appeared in society on the 25th of January,
1831, at a grand party, held at the house of the British
Ambassador, Lord Cowley, when he became acquainted
with Marmont, one of his father's marshals. In June,
1831, he was appointed Lieutenant-Colonel, and assumed
the command of a battalion of Hungarian infantry. He
was beginning to exhibit symptoms of consumption; and
his exertions in the discharge of his new duties hastened
the progress of the disease. Much against his own wishes,
he was taken from his favourite military pursuits; but
his impetuous disposition hastened his dissolution. The
first return of vigour excited the Prince to renewed exer-
tion; he commenced hunting in all weathers, which,
together with exposure in visiting a neighbouring mili-
tary station, soon occasioned a recurrence of the most
dangerous symptoms, and, after a short period of painful
suffering, he died at the Palace of Schoenbrunn, on the
22nd of July, 1831, in the twenty-first year of his age.
Under the guidance of Metternich, the grandson of
Francis became an Austrian subject, instead of a French
prince, and forbade his ever cherishing any aspirations to
The intelligence of his death was received with pro-
found sensation in France, but at that time the people
had quietly acquiesced in the elevation of the House of
Orleans; and the event which caused so much sorrow in
the hearts of the survivors of the Bonaparte family soon
ceased to excite attention or feeling elsewhere. In the
other nations of Europe there was but little regret that
an individual, however blameless in private life, who from
ºci tances might have disturbed the general peace,
had been providentially removed by death before the
opportunity had offered for awakening in his bosom the
ambition which distinguished his father.










MURA.T.



BOOK IX.
JoAcHIM MURAT,
KING OF NAPLEs.
#
Born at Bastide. 'ontoniere, France, March 25, 1767 ; Died at Pizzo
(Italy), October 13, 1815.
THIS illustrious soldier, who was the Chevalier Bayard
of Napoleon's Empire, would have deserved in this work
Something more than a passing notice, even had he not,
by marriage with one of Napoleon's sisters, become allied
with the Bonaparte family. He was born (March 25th,
1767) two years before Napoleon, in a smallvillage near
Cahors, in France. He was the son of the keeper of the
little inn of the village, an honest and industrious man.
He had been a steward in the Talleyrand family; and his
son Joachim was, through their favour, admitted to the
College of Cahors, with the view of being prepared for
the Church. But he made little progress in his studies,
and was incorrigible and extravagant. All his tastes
were military, and the tap of a drum made him un-
governable; but he managed to remain at Cahors until
his course, such as it was, was complete, when he was
sent to the College of Toulouse. He was, however, soon
expelled, when he enlisted in a regiment of Chasseurs;
and soon after the Great Revolution opened a new age to
France and Europe. ; : ...: - º
Young Murat, having obtained a place in the Consti- .
tutional Guard of Louis XVI, he joined his corps, where


458 JoACHIM MURAT.
his fine form, handsome face, and martial bearing, at-
tracted universal attention. He went through the Reign
of Terror with the deepest enthusiasm, and took no care
whatever to conceal his earnest sympathy with the cause
of republicanism. He passed from grade to grade, till the
stable-boy became a major in the army of the Republic.
Many interesting incidents are related of him at this
period ; but we must pass them all by, without stopping
even to glance at those passages of his life in which his
character shines out with all its brilliancy. When Napo-
leon was confided by the Government with the quelling of
the Sections, he intrusted to Murat a most important
commission; and it was chiefly through his efficiency and
despatch that the park of artillery which decided the
fortunes of the day was seized and brought to Paris only
a few moments before a superior detachment of the Na-
tional Guard arrived for the same purpose. Having at
that trying crisis displayed, not only the highest daring,
but the most marked military tact and ability, Napoleon
chose him as one of his staff in the army of Italy.
III. . . . . . . .
He achieved such distinction during the first campaign
of Napoleon in every trial of his bravery and skill, that
he laid the foundation of the reputation he subsequently
acquired of being the ablest of all the French marshals.
After the conquest of Italy, he was chosen by the Com-
mander-in-Chief to bear the captured standards to the
Directory of Paris, by whom he was promoted to the rank
of General of Brigade. He occupied one of the first
positions in the army of Egypt, and during that trying
expedition won still more brilliant laurels. He was the
only officer of the French army who could manage cavalry
with success in an encounter with the Mamelukes. At
the Battle of Aboukir he was intrusted by Napoleon with




MURAT's EARLY MILITARY CAREER. 459
the hazardous task of breaking the centre of the Turkish
lines. Before the onset of his squadrons column after
column of the Turks was driven into the sea. As the
smoke of battle rolled off from a corps of the Turkish
army, he saw the commander, Mustapha Pacha, surrounded
by two hundred Janizaries, all of them fighting with the
energy of despair. The Pacha drew a pistol, and fired at
his head. The ball grazed Murat's cheek; but the next
moment the Frenchman's sword glittered in the air, and,
by a trenchant stroke, severed two of the Pacha's fingers,
and brought his Arabian steed to the ground. He seized
the uplifted hand of the Turk, and sent him a prisoner to
Napoleon. .
Murat was one of those gallant spirits to whom Napo-
leon made known his intention of returning to France,
and whom he resolved to retain near his person. They
held many intimate conversations during the long voyage,
and its tedious hours were relieved by the communion of
their kindred minds. Before Napoleon decided on the
seizure of the government of France, he had calculated
well his forces; and to Murat was intrusted the most
important part, after his own, in the decisive days of the
18th and 19th Brumaire. When those cries of “Death
to Bonaparte” were ringing through the hall of the Council
of Five Hundred, and Napoleon himself had just escaped
from the dagger lifted against him, it was Murat who
marched into the assembly and ended their sessions.
Although Moreau, who was then the second military
man in France, had sued for the hand of Caroline, Napo-
leon's youngest sister, yet, either owing to the superior
fascination of Murat's person or manner, or to the well-
known affection entertained for him by the First Consul,
she became his wife, and it was now more than ever an
object of desire as well as of interest on the part of
Napoleon to promote his fortunes. These were periods

460 JoACHIM MURAT.
when marriages were contracted with as little premedi-
tation as battles were fought ; and the convulsions of
Europe allowed but brief honeymoons to its soldiers. A
few days after the marriage, the army of Italy was again
in motion; they were soon defiling along the glaciers of
the Great St. Bernard; they descended into the garden
of Italy, and unfurled their standards at Marengo. If
this were a book in which we had scope for the descrip-
tion of the movements of armies, we should have to glance
at some of the fields where Murat led the cavalry of
France. At Marengo Napoleon grasped his hand when
he returned from his last charge, and sent him to Paris
to bear the standards of the enemy, when the Consular
Government presented him with a magnificent sword,
heavily mounted with diamonds.
3. . IV. . §
We cannot go with him to Austerlitz or Jena, to Eylau
or Friedland; nor contemplate his career in Spain, where
he placed the crown of the Peninsula in the hands of
Napoleon; we cannot follow him in his struggles with
the Bedouins of the Desert, nor under the shadows of
the Sacred Mountains; his charges against the Cossacks
on the frozen steppes of Russia we cannot record. We
must forego the pleasure of tracing the career of this
great soldier. But we need not record his achievements;
they are already written in the history of Europe. Of
the hundred victories that stand emblazoned on the
column of the Place Vendome, there are few battles in
which the majestic form of Murat on his battle-steed,
charging the enemy at the head of his cavalry, is not
traced. Time and again the fortunes of Europe hung on
his sword. More than six feet high, finely proportioned,
eminently handsome, with the most brilliant expression
of countenance, hair which waved in natural curls all



NAPOLEON's ADMIRATION OF MURAT. 461
over his head, fond of riding, and acquainted with horses
from his boyhood, riding none but the best horses in
Europe—extravagant and superb in dress, fond of adorn-
ment, and captivated with 'splendour—he was altogether
the most brilliant soldier on foot or on horseback that
has been seen in modern Europe. Hundreds of thousands
of men that were with him on his battle-fields have seen
his gorgeous plumes wreathed in the smoke of battle;
and so terrible did his name at last become, that the
bravest soldiers he fought against recoiled when they
knew that he was on the field. Probably no man has
lived in recent times who has performed so many deeds
of daring, the very relation of which makes the blood run
cold. From his birth to his death, he seems never to
have known the passion of fear. Often during the march
to Russia, and the retreat from Moscow, he rode unharmed
through Squadrons of the Cossacks sweeping around him,
terrified and half charmed at the magnificence and daring
of his adventure. He bore a charmed life. But his fate
at last was sad enough to atone for the splendour of his
career. * . . . . . . &iº... º.
Napoleon never admired the military genius of any
other man as he did Murat's, and he showered upon him
all the magnificence of his Empire. He may have been
more tenderly attached to Eugene; sometimes he may
have felt a warmer sentiment for Duroc ; he caught
Dessaix as he fell on the field of Marengo, and he held
Lannes to his bosom when he died; but no man ever
lifted his arm for Napoleon whose blow, when it came
shattered the forces of the enemy so dreadfully as Murat's.
Side by side with him he travelled from the bombardment
of Toulon till the fall of his Empire. From a General of
Brigade he became General of Division, Commander-in-
Chief of the National Guard, Marshal of France, and ,
Grand Admiral, and Prince of the Empire, Grand Eagle



462 JoACHIM MURAT.
of the Legion of Honour, Grand Duke of Berg and of
Cleves, until the last honour which the French Empire
could crown him with was given—the diadem of Naples,
We shall bestow upon him, in this latter capacity, the few
remarks we find room for in this volume. §
An imperial decree of Napoleon, dated, “Bayonne,
July 15, 1808,” placed Murat upon the throne of Naples.
Colletta, who held high civic and military offices under
his government, who was long his Minister of War and
Councillor of State, has left in his posthumous work so
many valuable and philosophical records that we could find
no safer guide to follow, in tracing the policy and political
fortunes of the new king. His work has never been pub-
lished in English. To his history in Italian we are chiefly
indebted for what remains to say of Murat. .
V.
When the new king was proclaimed, the Neapolitans
were full of inquiries about his birth, his life, and achieve-
ments; but the fame of his valour overshadowed every-
thing else: hence those who were not attracted by military
glory feared to encounter in their Sovereign inflexibility,
hard-heartedness, fondness for war, and no capacity for
government. But, as the news came of his approach,
festivals and rejoicings were seen throughout the kingdom.
On the 6th of September (1808), he made his public
entry into Naples, on horseback, superbly attired, but not
with the royal mantle or any other sign of sovereignty
—he was dressed only in the uniform he wore in battle.
He was received at the gate by the homage of the magis-
trates, the keys of the city, and every sign of allegiance.
Magnificent in his person, cheerful and even gay with
those around him, powerful, fortunate, and a hero, he had
everything to inflame the enthusiasm of a people. In the



RECEPTION AT NAPLES, 463
church of Spirito Santo he received from Cardinal Fiaro
the sacred benediction, with every sign of veneration,
except that he stood with his feet on the throne. When
he entered the royal palace, he went through the etiquette
of the court with the grace of a king who had been born
in the midst of grandeur. The city was brilliantly illu-
minated, and festivities and gaiety were prolonged
throughout the night. - … . -
The first acts of his reign were a proclamation of pardon
for all those who had deserted the army, and a convo-
cation of counsellors of citizens in the provinces, the
curtailment of the expenditures of the army, particularly
the French troops, garrisoned in the kingdom—all of
which gave universal gratification. The festivities which
celebrated his arrival were hardly over, when the people
abandoned themselves to other fêtes to demonstrate their
joy on the arrival of the Queen. Caroline entered Naples
the 25th of September; and although the public cere-
monies were less imposing than those which greeted the
coming of the King, they were marked by a greater degree
of elegance and splendour, as might be expected to dis-
tinguish the reception of a young and beautiful sovereign,
who was the sister of the most powerful monarch that
had ever held a sceptre in Europe. Something more than
this gave heartiness and enthusiasm to the occasion; for
in the same carriage with the Queen were four very young
and beautiful children, to whom the Neapolitans looked
forward for the majesty and the glory of the kingdom,
v1.
But the splendours of the palace, and the gaieties of
the court, were not so strong for Murat as the allurements
preparing the expedition to Capri. That island was then



464 JoACHIM MURAT.
held by the English, and had become, as Colletta says, a
forge of conspirators and brigands under the command of
Colonel Lowe, who was afterwards to be the jailer of
Napoleon. But Murat was determined to wrest it from
their grasp, and he did it with complete success. This
achievement, which was one of the most brilliant ever
performed in the history of Europe, was achieved by two
hundred men; and it made the name of Muratring through
the kingdom of the Two Sicilies tº . .
This brilliant act was a l lous pledge to hold out to
eight millions of subjects; but Murat was the man to
redeem it. The éclat had scarcely resounded to the borders
of his kingdom, before he undertook a still more difficult
enterprise—that of civil change and amelioration. Exiles
were recalled, state criminals were liberated, spies were
dismissed, and all the barbarities of the police abandoned;
and Murat displayed a great deal of discretion in the
means he chose to remove these obstacles which old habits
and customs opposed to the working of the new Napoleon
Code. The registry of deaths, births, and marriages was
confided to civil magistrates; and matrimony could not be
celebrated in the church as a sacrament till it had been
ratified before a magistrate as a social contract. The
registry of mortgages on real estate was opened for public
inspection. This vast innovation met with opposition,
for it tore away one of the last props of the feudal system.
But its results were beneficial. Estates were cleared up
and credit established; and afterwards there were wit-
nessed no deceptive bankruptcies, few estates squandered,
and frauds upon property were far less frequent than in
former times. The magistracy of the city of Naples was
regulated by wise and enlightened ordinances. A corps
of engineers of bridges and roads was named; and this
part of the administration was made an instrument of
civilisation and wealth, although it had been neglected



PUBLIC WORKS, - 465
since the time of Charles Bourbon, in the early portion of
the last century. Colletta, who was himself the chief of
the corps of Engineers, under Murat, gives a long, minute,
and interesting account of the progress they made in
public works during the reign. One of the chief character-
istics of the Napoleonic policy has been from the begin-
ning the development of the resources of nations and the
extension of public works. . ſ
Joseph had established in Aversa an institution for the
education of the daughters of nobles. Murat transferred
it to Naples ; and as its management was confided to the
Queen, it was called “Casa Carolina.” The nobility of
the young ladies was not sought in titles and the recol-
lections of ancestors, but in the respectability of their
position; hence the institution embraced names the most
illustrious for ancient lineage, and most distinguished in
the achievements of modern times. This seminary flou-
rished for several years; and although its founders were
overwhelmed by the counter revolution of 1815, it was
still preserved with its original regulations, and is at this
day a powerful instrument in improving the manners of
families, in educating virtuous wives, and in providing
affectionate mothers for the charities of home.
VII.
On the 25th of March, the birthday of Murat and of
his Queen, he presented to the new regiments he had
organised, and to the National Guards, their colours. He
had called from the provinces the choicest of the legions,
and raised a magnificent throne in the Grand Piazza of
Naples, and made all his preparations for a splendid fete,
with his Oriental genius for display. The National Guard,
which had been organised throughout the kingdom, had
been summoned to witness the grand celebration; and

2 H.

466 - JOACHIM MURAT,
wherever they passed cities and villages on their march
to the capital, they were provided with the means of
enjoyment and luxury. When their battalions reached
Naples, they were not lodged in the rude quarters of
soldiers; but commodiously, in the palaces of nobles and
the rich, of the King and his Ministers. Although a
violent rain was falling, it did not interrupt the cere-
monies. Cardinal Fiaro, at the signal of the artillery
from the forts and the ships, with a clear and harmonious
voice blessed the standards, and as they hung drooping to
their staffs they were carried to the King, who planted
them around his throne; and as company after company
approached to receive them, and swear allegiance, the
rain ceased, the clouds broke away, and a full tide of
Sunshine flooded the martial scene. The multitude re-
garded it as an augury of a happy future. The fête went
on—banquets, plays, theatrical spectacles, were given to
the soldiers; and, to commemorate the occasion, a silver
medal was struck, which bore on one side the image of
the King, and, on the other, fourteen banners, the number
of the provinces, with the motto, “Domestic Security”—
and around it, “To the Legions, 26th of March, 1809.”
This scene doubtless had no little influence in consolidating
the reign of Murat ; and when the troops returned to the
provinces, where they were stationed, every village and
hamlet flashed with illuminations.

VIII.
Soon after, from the port of Messina two expeditions
started—one of which landed in the Gulf of Gioja four
hundred brigands and soldiers; and the other on the
coast between Reggio and Palma. The brigands dispersed
throughtheforests, killing, robbing, and destroying, where-
ever they came within contact of civilisation. In the
meantime, the innumerable ships of England were scouring


HARASSED BY THE ENGLISH. 4.67
the coast of Italy, and landing brigands and desperadoes
wherever it was judged they could inflict the most damage
and distress upon the population. It is humiliating to
human nature to contemplate the conduct of the British
Ministry at this period; for thousands of innocent persons
were sacrificed to the brutality of these desperate gangs
of robbers, with whom the highest personages in the
British navy were not ashamed to consort. It was re-
garded as legitimate revenge upon Napoleon himself to
receive these villains when they fled from the pursuit of
authority—protect them, load them with money, and send
them ashore, to Scour, ravage, violate, and lay waste the
devoted homes and plains of Italy. … &
IX.
Murat understood thoroughly the policy of the Eng-
lish, and he determined to drive them from the Penin-
sula. With the energy and heroism of his spirit, he at
once began the work. He gave despatch to orders,
provisions, and counsels. He gathered his soldiers—
visited the camps, the barracks, and coasts—organised
the militia as a guard of the city. Tranquillity reigned
throughout the kingdom among his own subjects; but
Naples turned pale with terror, Queen Caroline dis-
played the greatest confidence in the security of the
capital, by appearing every morning and evening in the
public parks and promenades, and at the theatres with
her children. Her example was imitated by all the
upper classes, and Naples soon bore the appearance of
luxury and repose. The brigands landed from the
English vessels were obliged to get their food by incur-
sions on farm-houses and villages. In a hostile soil, they
could calculate on neither safety nor life but in victory.
But their object was neither bread nor peace. Being
distributed throughout the kingdom along the line of

468 JoACHIM MURAT.
the Appenines, they descended on the same night into a
hundred villages; and the kingdom of Naples must have
seemed to the eye of Heaven to have been lit by a
general conflagration. Rapine, violence, death, and fire
attended their steps. The old, the sick, and the young
were either massacred or burned. Hundreds of those
whose misfortunes or condition should have rendered
them objects of sacred regard were subjected to the
most ignominious and disgraceful deaths. A thousand
instances are recorded, many of them authenticated by
the impartial and honest pen of Colletta, in which traits
of human nature are developed in such a light as is
seldom cast even by the pen of romance.
X.
England had furnished ships to land the brigands,
and she rewarded them munificently for their barbarity
—not unlike the policy she pursued in the war of our
Revolution, and in that of 1812, when she summoned
to her aid, by the agency of whiskey, blankets, and
gold, the terrible machinery of the tomahawk and
Scalping-knife, for the mothers and infants of our own
people. The Declaration of American Independence,
long before these outrages were perpetrated, found in
our own history justification enough for that memorable
accusation against the King of England, “He has
brought on the inhabitants of our frontiers the merciless
Indian Savages, whose known rule of warfare is the
undistinguised destruction of all ages, sexes, and con-
ditions.” But the ostensible instruments in her hands,
during this crusade of blood in the Italian Peninsula,
were the Duke d'Ascoli, the Prince of Canosa, the
Marquis of Sciava, and other distinguished courtiers of
the King of Sicily. There were, in the court of that
King, even priests and bishops who pronounced their

BOMBARDMENT OF NAPLES. 469
benedictions upon the heads of the most motorious
villains of Europe, and absolved them from all the sins
they ever had committed or ever would, and promised
them a free passport to the gates of Paradise, if they
would only return to the horrid work of the butchery
of helpless men, the violation of innocent maidens, and
the slaughter of mothers with their unborn children.
Nſany of the most distinguished officers of the British
army and navy witnessed and justified all this.
xi.
When Murat, whose humanity—seared as it may
have been by the carnage of his battle-fields—recoiled
in disgust from this infernal brutality, had exhausted in
vain every means in his power to secure at least a
decent warfare, he resolved to put an end to these
barbarities, and drive the brigands from the soil of his
kingdom. It was the mightiest effort of his life, and it
was attended with complete success. -
On the birthday of Napoleon (August 19th, 1809),
while the city was transported with the festivities of a
great celebration, the English fleet sailed into the Bay
of Naples, and began to bombard the town. The little
Squadron of Murat, all of whose masts and sails were
decked out for the festival, unfurled its mimic power
against the enemy, under the command of Murat, who
on that day showed that he was worthy of the title of
Admiral of the French Empire. On that day, the first
and last occasion when he wore the uniform of Grand
Admiral, he stood upon the deck of a vessel, and began
the action. His army had been drawn up for a dis-
play to grace the festival, on the beautiful shore of
Chiaja, and their martial music mingled with the roar
of the fortresses of Naples, until the signals from the
Admiral's vessel gave a new direction, with something
.



470 - JOACHIM MURAT.
more than the fire of blank-cartridges, to their military
evolutions. Near and around the enemy's fleets, in a
single minute, the shells of the guns of the Neapolitan
forts fell on the gulf ; while Murat sailed with his little
fleet down on the enemy as fearlessly as though he had
been on the deck of the Victory, with the confidence of
Nelson. Says Colletta, “I never saw, in the midst of
the prosperity of his reign, and the gaiety of his palace,
Murat so much delighted as he was on that day. Fortune
seemed to be gratifying all his desires. He stood in the
midst of war, pomp, and glory, the object of admiration
to an immense people.” .
* . . . XII. .
Having repelled foreign invasion, and made the most
energetic arrangements for the gradual expulsion of
brigandage from his realm, he began the construction
of several large vessels of war, and devoted himself
with the greatest zeal and application to the internal
improvement of his kingdom. Public instruction was
taken care of, and many public schools were established.
Colletta says that the credit of institutions for popular
education in the kingdom of Naples is due to Murat
more than to any other king. Bishops were prohibited
from printing or publishing edicts or pastorals without
permission of the Government—a humiliating but just
dependence for those who, having been free themselves
till then, had imposed fetters upon the liberties of others.
Two hundred convents of monks or nuns, which held
real estate and were considered a curse to the entire
community, were suppressed, and every vestige of priestly
rule was for the time almost obliterated from the
kingdom of Naples. . . *... -- .”





. XIII.
Murat and Caroline now left Naples on a journey to
Paris, where they had been summoned by Napoleon, to


HIS CIVIL GOVERNMENT. 471
assist at a family congress in which the divorce of Jo-
sephine was to be decided. Colletta says that he alone
of all the family and council gave a dissenting vote to
this measure. ‘. .
His queen remained in France, but Murat returned to
devote himself to the affairs of his State. He founded in
every province a society of agriculture, assigned to them
lands for experiments, and had a conservatory erected for
useful plants. He opened agricultural schools, gave
premiums for superiority, and offered still more brilliant
inducements to inventors of machines or processes useful
to agriculture; while he connected the agricultural
societies of the provinces with the garden of plants at
Naples, to which noble institution he presented a fine
tract of land, with the condition that a spacious and
beautiful edifice should be erected for the preservation in
the capital of the plants for botanical experiments and
for agricultural literature. In many ways, also, he
endeavoured to promote floral and useful agriculture as
the basis of national wealth, uttering in one of his
proclamations the noble sentiment that, as the earth in
some portions of Europe had been so long abandoned to
the wasting course of time, recourse must be had to
human skill, which makes the most meagre soils fertile
even under the most inclement skies,


XIV.
Colletta finely says of the nuptials with Maria Louisa,
in 1810, that they were like a malignant comet speeding
across the track of Napoleon. --
Murat was summoned from Naples to witness th
marriage; but he hastened back to attend to the affairs of
his kingdom. The brigands had become so bold that
they advanced to the limits of the camp, and often
assaulted and killed the soldiers in the neighbourhood,
Murat himself often went distances from the camp; and

472 ºſ() ACHIM MURAT,
on a certain occasion, meeting a brigand whom the gens
d'armes were carrying, bound hand and foot, to the Camp,
he said to him, “Sire, I am a brigand, but worthy of
pardon; for, but yesterday, whilst your Majesty was
passing over the mountains of Sicily, and I was in wait
behind a rock, I could have killed you. Such was my
design, and I had prepared my arms, but your grand and
royal aspect disarmed me ; I could not fire on such a
man. You are a king that I could respect. But if I had
killed the King yesterday, I should not to-day be a
prisoner so near death.” Murat, who was open to any
generous appeal, gave him his pardon—the brigand kissed
the knee of Murat's horse, embraced the King's foot, and
went free and happy. Colletta says that from that day
he lived honestly in his native place.
Society seemed to be broken up ; relations and friends
were renounced, pursued, and killed by friends and
relations, and men became as they become in an earth-
quake, in a shipwreck, in a plague: solicitous only for
themselves, and reckless for the rest of humanity. In
the beginning of November the lists of brigands num-
bered three thousand; before two months were over,
they were numbered only by hundreds. There are
probably to be found among the records of the destruc-
tion of brigandage in the time of Murat, in the kingdom
of Naples, more instances of barbarity, of hardihood, and
of heroism, than any other country at any period has
furnished. . - * . . . . . . . . . . ;
~ XV.
The enginery of destruction which Murat had set in
motion with his unrelenting hand was steadily pressed,
till the last brigand was driven from the kingdom of
Naples. Colletta Says it was the first time in the life of
the restless and factious Neapolitan people that neither


HIS CIVIL GOVERNMENT, 473
brigands, nor partisans, nor robbers infested the public
roads of the open country. The court of Sicily and
their English allies, lacking material for other domestic
incendiarisms, launched no longer upon them their accus-
tomed brands of discord and conflagration. Justice
having vindicated her cause, the military commissions
were dissolved; the flying squad recalled; the
military commandants in the pi • were divested of
all control in the civil administration; enterprises of
industry resumed their wonted vigour; traffic again rose
into activity ; markets and fairs were crowded with
people, and the kingdom wore the aspect of civilisation
and public security. The beneficent institutions of
Joseph and Murat, which had hitherto been prevented
from putting forth their power, now became known to
the people, and were joyfully accepted. … . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .” -- . . .
Thus, during the same year (1810), the last trace of
feudalism was swept from the kingdom. The effect of it
was not so immediate as the suppression of brigandage,
but it was of far greater importance. The feudal lands
were divided among the communes and citizens; the
vast estates of the Crown, which had produced little or no
revenue, and had remained for ages without cultivation,
were cut up into small farms and given as premiums to
those who displayed the greatest science and industry in
agriculture. On the 1st of January, 1811, in the midst
of the usual festivities of the palace, the King conferred
upon the most distinguished officers of his army titles of
mobility with estates (with none of the rights or usages
of feudalism, however), and thus created a new armed
and powerful nobility, devoted to progress and the
future; and although Joseph and Murat were both
generous in the titles and estates they conferred upon
their favourites, still Colletta says that the history of
Naples shows no new dynasty established in that country,

474 JOACHIM MURA.T.
where so little avarice or prodigality was displayed. Nor
had any preceding sovereign bestowed his favours upon
men who had deserved better of the State. .
XVI.
On the birth of the King of Rome, Murat hastened to
Paris to offer his homage; and on his return he disbanded
the French army in Naples, and issued a decree that no
foreigner who had not first been declared a Neapolitan
citizen could any longer enjoy under his reign civil or
military stipends. This decree enraged Napoleon, who
protested against it. Murat hurled back the insult of
interference on the part of the Emperor; and a hopeless
estrangement would doubtless have taken place between
them, had not Queen Caroline calmed their excited
passions. At length a compromise was effected, and a
spirit of moderation signalised the actions both of
Napoleon and Murat. . .
But there was not a complete reconciliation between
the two Sovereigns; for Napoleon never could forget that
he was an emperor and had made Murat a king, while
Murat never could forget that he, above all other men,
had made Napoleon an emperor. In the estimation of
Murat, as well as many other men, the empire of Napo-
leon was approaching its fall; and influ l somewhat,
doubtless, by chagrin, and inspired also by the highest
sentiments of honour and chivalry, Murat began to change
his policy of government in some respects, and look more
to the consolidation of his own dynasty than to the
promotion of the views of Napoleon. He founded new
colleges and Schools, issued new ordinances for public
instruction, and inaugurated with solemn ceremonies the
university of studies. He also began and nearly com-
pleted many great public works, designed either to be of
general utility or to contribute to the arts which adorn,


SERVES IN THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN. 475
and embellish civilised life. He built theatres in the
chief towns of the provinces, and roads, bridges, and
aqueducts, and began an extensive system of draining for
marshes. Among other great roads, he built the Strada
di Posilipo and Campo di Marte. Many of these public
works were paid for by Murat with his own money. On
the hill of Meradois he founded an astronomical obser-
vatory, after the design of Baron Zach, and it was
mounted with the instruments of Reichembachs, who, at
the invitation of the King, visited Naples to superintend
the work, where they were greeted by learned men and
1ſurat with more than regal honours.
.” XVII. .
In April, 1812, Murat obeyed once more the call of his
old commander; and, leaving Queen Caroline regent of
his kingdom, he started for the campaign of Russia. For
the moment all their mutual animosities were laid aside—
Napoleon forgetting them in the glorious chivalry of the
greatest leader of cavalry in modern Europe; and Murat
giving away again to the fiery instinct of war. We shall
not again recount any of the scenes of that terrible ex-
pedition. In one of the last bulletins of the campaign,
Napoleon, who was moderate in his praises, and none too
kindly disposed towards Murat, wrote, “The King of
Naples in this battle has accomplished all that could be
done by prudence, valour, and a knowledge of war.
Throughout the campaign of Russia, he has shown himself
worthy of the supreme rank of king.” When the French
army had reached the banks of the Niemen, Napoleon
hastened on to Paris, leaving as his lieutenant the King
of Naples. Murat nobly discharged his duty till the last ;
but when the remains of the French army had reached
Secure and commodious quarters, and the war of 1842
terminated, he resigned into the hands of the Viceroy of

476 ~. 3: ...:”.’’:::3 JoACHIM MURAT,
Italy the chief command, and returned with all speed to
Naples. But Colletta censures, with terms of great severity,
his abandonment of the French army; “for,” he says, “his
kingdom was in repose—England was busy with the wars
of Germany and Spain—his Regent Queen, whose courage
and judgment were superior to her sex, was adminis-
trating every providence necessary for the wants of the
State. On the banks of the Oder he was not king, but
captain—not a citizen of Naples, but a Frenchman. There
his country was wounded, and there, surrounded by dan-
ger, was struggling the army that had given him his
fortune and his throne. When Napoleon heard of the
departure of Murat from the camp, he caused the fact to
be published in the Moniteur, accompanied with censures
on him and encomiums on the Viceroy, which wounded
Murat still more deeply, from the fact that these two
princes, one of whom was the favourite of fortune and the
other of the Emperor, had long felt mutual jealousy and
animosity. But this public censure did not appease the
anger of Napoleon, for he wrote to his sister, the Queen
of Naples, insulting words against her husband; calling
him unfaithful, ungrateful, a bungler in statesmanship,
unworthy of an alliance with his family, and deserving by
his machinations a severe and public castigation.” r
The King replied directly to the letter, and, among
other things, said, “The wound to my honour has been
made, and it is not now in the power of your Majesty to
heal it. You have injured an old companion in arms,
faithful to you in your dangers, no insignificant means of
your victories, a prop to your power, and the reanimator
of your lost courage on the 18th Brumaire. When one
has the honour, as you say, to belong to your illustrious
family, nothing should be done by him to peril its
interests or dim its splendour. But I tell you, Sire, that
your family has received from me as much honour as it



QUARREL WITH NAPOLEON. , 477
gave, on my marriage with Caroline. A thousand times,
although king, I sigh for the days when I was simply a
soldier. Then I had superiors and no master. When I
became king, in that supreme rank I was tyrannised over
by your Majesty, domineered over in my family, and it
was then that I felt more than ever the necessity of inde-
pendence and an unquenchable thirst for liberty. Thus
you torture—thus you sacrifice to your suspicion men
faithful to you, and who have served you nobly on the
stupendous march of your fortune. Thus, Fouché was
immolated to Savary, Talleyrand to Chagny, Chagny to
Bassano, and Murat to Beauharnais—to Beauharnais, who
has, to you, the merit of mute obedience, and of having
cheerfully announced to the Senate of France the repu-
diation of his own mother! I can no longer deny to my
people some relief from the severe damages their com-
merce has suffered through maritime war. From what I
have said of your Majesty and yourself, you will infer
that our former mutual confidence is changed. You will,
therefore, do what best pleases you. But whatever may
be your errors, I am still your brother and faithful
brother-in-law. “JoACHIM.”
This letter, being despatched in the effervescence of
anger, could not be recalled. Murat, supposing the indig-
nation of Napoleon would burst forth in a hostile explo-
sion, prepared himself for defence. But Caroline, who
understood the disposition of her husband and the tenor
of the letter, from words which escaped his easily-impas-
Sioned lips, interposed, and softened his animosity. This
prevented an open rupture at the time,
...-- XVIII, . -
King Murat now attempted the organisation of a poli-
tical union of all the States of Italy into a great confe-
%

&
#
478 JOACHIM MURAT,
deration—the dream of Italian patriots for centuries,
He was judicious in all that he did to attempt this grand
result ; and the whole subject is worthy of a volume which
would unfold the policy that actuated him and the diffi-
culties that attended the result. Napoleon once more
went to meet his enemies; and Murat, who could not
resist the allurements of a victorious campaign, was
again attracted to the banners of Austerlitz, and once
more he joined the army of Napoleon. He presented
himself with restraint and embarrassment, but he was
joyfully received; and Napoleon pressed him to his
bosom, for their old affection and the souvenirs of so
many victories, with a common danger, overcame their
mutual disdain and the memory of recent discords. He
was by the side of Napoleon in the battles of Silesia and
Bohemia, “waiting,” says Colletta, “impatiently to break
through the orders of the commander; and, if an image
may be permitted to the severe style of history, was the
thunderbolt in the hand of Jove.” º -
Eie fought in the great Battle of Leipsic ; and it was
on the banks of the Elbe that he saved the Empire of
Napoleon. “That Leipsic was preserved, and the army
afterwards enabled to retire by the shortest route to the
Rhine, was due,” says Colletta, “to Murat.” After the
dangerous retreat from Erfurth, Murat took leave of the
Emperor with mutual fraternal embraces—their last sepa-
ration and their last signs of friendship and affection.
Murat arrived at Naples at the close of the year 1813.
The reforming genius of the eighteenth century had
swept over the nations of Europe. The liberty of France
had been welcomed by tumult, and men parted with it
reluctantly. But political equality had struck its roots
deep, and among men and governments a new tendency
had begun. The reaction was to follow; but it was only
a step in another cycle of revolutions, g


ENDEAVOURS TO SAVE HIS CROWN. 479
XIX,
It had now become evident that the colossal structure
of the French Empire was hastening to its fall, Murat
felt that his tenure on regal power was too dependent on
the duration of Napoleon's reign; and he therefore re-
ceived proposals of amity, which were made to him by the
Emperor of Austria in the names of the sovereigns of
Europe. He negotiated treaties with Austria and with
England, which, had those nations observed with common
faith, would have kept him upon the throne. But the
moment Napoleon himself had been overwhelmed by the
great coalition, the allied powers trampled every treaty
they had made in the dust ; and Murat, whose great fault
was that he believed their word, was brought to ruin.
He foresaw his doom, and whatever a brave man could
do to save his throne or his fortunes was done ; but it
was all in vain. He was driven from his kingdom by the
very powers that had pledged him their protection, and
nothing remains for us but the brief record of his last
days. His kingdom had fallen to ruins, and the return of
the Bourbon was imminent and certain. He had fought
his last battle; he had been betrayed by his friends, and
abandoned by his people. The spies of Austria had been
lurking on his track, and the brigands and assassins of
Italy had been ready for years to take his life, England
had expended many millions in slaughtering his people,
hoping by these means to sap the foundations of his
power. He was at last disheartened; and, abandoming
the cares of captain and king, he thought only of saving
himself and his family. He delegated the command of
his army to one of his generals, and privately entered
Naples at evening; but he was recognised by the people
When he returned to his capital, and welcomed back as
their sovereign as though nothing had happened. He




480 JoACHIM MURAT.
went to the palace, and, rushing to the apartments of the
Queen, embraced her, and said, “Fortune has betrayed
us—all is lost " “But not all,” she replied, “for we pre-
serve our honour and constancy.” Together and in secret
they prepared for their departure. A small circle of
courtiers and friends, faithful and beloved, were admitted
and dismissed, after a brief conversation. The King
made provision with his Ministers for many of the affairs
of the kingdom ; and he was serene, discreet, and generous,
When he parted with those who had been faithful to him,
unlike other kings, he was as munificent as a prince when
he is mounting a throne. .
XX,
In the fall of his fortunes he made no provision for
himself; but he instructed his negotiators to take care of
the state and the army, to insist on the confirmation of
Sales and donations, and protect in good faith all the
interests of his subjects, and ratify his acts, so far as they
concerned the fortunes of his people; “thus leaving,” says
Colletta, “the fame of a good king, and many affectionate
and touching souvenirs in the recollections of the Neapo-
litans.” When Colletta, his Minister of War, asked him
what he should concede to the enemy, he answered,
“Everything but the honour of the army and the tran-
quillity of the people. I wish to bear all the burdens of
the misfortune myself.” These conditions were stipulated
in the treaty with the Allies, and at the bottom of it were
written these words, “The Emperor of Austria gives to
this treaty his formal guarantee.” Every condition of it
was violated, and a reign of terror began the very moment
the tyrant Ferdinand once more set his foot in Naples,
On the evening of the same day, when the King had
learned of the ratification of the treaty, and he had done
all that honour, affection, or good faith could do, he set


FLIES FROM NAPLEs. 481
out privately for the sea-shore, where he took a small
vessel and sailed over to Tschia. On this island he was
venerated as king for a day, and then, in a larger vessel,
with a small suite of courtiers and servants, without
pomp or luxury, or even the comforts of life, he sailed for
the coast of France, Queen Caroline had remained in
the royal palace at Naples, regent of the kingdom ; but
when the Bourbons were again entering the city, accord-
ing to previous arrangements she embarked on an Eng-
lish line-of-battle ship, with some of her court and former
Ministers, and a large number of other persons who could
not put any faith in the word of a Bourbon, although
signed, sealed, and ratified by treaty. On the 23rd of the
month the Austrian army entered Naples, attended with
every scene of triumph and martial display. The royal
prince, Don Leopold Bourbon, was on horseback, attended
by a numerous court, joyfully returning the popular salu-
tations; and, as the news had been spread during the last
two days by couriers, telegraphs, and common report, the
restored Government was everywhere recognised and
fêted. The reign of Murat disappeared—names, images,
emblems, and ensigns; the Queen alone, a prisoner on a
line-of-battle ship in the harbour, the spectacle and the
spectator of her miseries. .”


XXI.

Says Colletta, whose account we follow, Traversing the
Gulf of Gaeta, from whose towers he saw his flag waving,
and thinking that his children were within those walls,
his natural impulses and long familiarity with war urged
him to enter the fortress, and still struggle, like a despe-
rate man, without a hope of Saving his kingdom. But
Several ships closing the entrance of the port, he mourn-
fully turned his prow toward the west. ; :... ..... : :::..
He arrived at Fréjus the 28th of May, and landed on
. . 2 I


482 JOACHIM MURAT.
the same coast that the prisoner of Elba, two months
before, and with a better fate, had touched. On the soil
of France a thousand thoughts and recollections agitated
him—the first fruits of his valour, his hardships, his
fortunes, his diadem, his name ; on the other side, the
recent events of the war of Russia, the anger of Napoleon,
the intrigues with Austria and England, the alliance and
the war against France, abandonment and ingratitude,
Adversity had softened that proud spirit ; and fear pre-
vailing over hope, he did not dare to go on to Paris, but
stopped at Toulon. ... :::::::::::::::::
He wrote letters to the Minister Fouché, who had been
his friend in prosperity. Fouché presented the letters to
Napoleon, who asked what treaty of peace he had signed
with the King of Naples after the war of the year 1814;
thus recalling his injuries in vindication of himself.
Murat remained in Toulon, respected by the people, or,
perhaps, commiserated for his misfortunes, and from
recollections of his former greatness or expectations of
new events. .
That troubled repose was soon after disturbed by the
news of the Battle of Waterloo. Murat kept himself
concealed, and sent letters to Fouché, who, a little before
Minister of Napoleon, and now. Minister of Louis, had
preserved entire his authority and power with hostile
kings, amid the ruin of kingdoms. Murat prayed him for
a passport for England, promising to live as a private
man, Subject to the laws. But Fouché made no reply.
The lot of the unhappy Murat was every day becoming
worse. He wrote a letter to the King of France, neither
haughty nor abject, but worthy of an unfortunate and
fugitive monarch, and inclosed it to Fouché, begging him
to consign it to the royal hands. The letter bore no date,
for he would neither discover his retreat nor lie; he dated
his note to the Minister, “From the dark abyss of my
prison;” but he said nothing else to excite compassion,


TAKES REFUGE IN CORSICA. 483
He gained nothing by these supplications; the cunning
Minister made no reply, and the King was silent. Miserable
and desperate, he determined to find his way to Paris, and
confide his fortune to the allied sovereigns. Recalling
the diadem that once pressed his brow, the splendours of
war, his familiar conversations with those kings, the
hands so often extended in pledge of friendship and of
fidelity, he hoped for safety and a noble reception. He
did not undertake the journey by land, in order to avoid
the roads, still wet with the blood of Marshal Brune;
but he chartered a vessel to take him to Havre de Grace,
whence without danger he could get to Paris.
He chose for the embarkation a secluded part of the
coast at the dead of night ; but by some mistake or
chance the vessel landed at another place. After waiting
and searching for it a long time, he saw the day was
breaking, and he went wandering through woods and
vineyards. He fortunately found another asylum ; he
eluded the snares of his enemies, and at last on a small
boat fled from France to Corsica, that hospitable island,
the birth-place of so many who had in other days been
his followers in wars and on fields of glory. After a
voyage of two days a tempest arose, and for thirty hours
his vessel was abandoned to the fortunes of the sea.
When the storm subsided, they fell in with the mail-
packet, which plies regularly between Marseilles and Bas-
tia. Murat, with a bold countenance, revealed his name
to the pilots, and added, “I am a Frenchman, and I
speak to my countrymen; I am near shipwreck, and I
ask help from those who are sailing without danger.”
He was received and honoured as a king.





XXII,

On the following day he was landed at Bastia. Corsica
Was at that time agitated by civil discords between the
Bourbonists, Bonapartists, and Independents. The first

484 JOACHIM MURA.T. º
of these parties was small and weak, but the other two
were strong, and confided in Murat for some new political
movement. Hence the authorities of the island were
suspicious of him ; and from motives of security and
prudence he passed to Vescondo, and thence to Ajaccio,
closely pursued by the magistrates of the island, and con-
tinually defended by the islanders, who had risen in arms.
These popular recognitions made him feel once more like
a king; and, with a false image of fortune glittering on
his eye, he frequently said, “If strangers fight for me,
what will not the Neapolitans do? I accept the augury.”
Eſe then formed the design, which he revealed to none
but his most intimate confidants, of landing at Salerno,
where three thousand of his old army were stationed, idle
and discontented with the Bourbon Government; to
march with them to Avellino, swelling his ranks on the
way with soldiers and partisans. With these plans he
assembled a company of two hundred and fifty Corsicans
who were faithful to him and ready for battle, and freighted
six barques. He fixed the day of his departure; but,
shortly before the time, letters of Macerani from Calvi
announced that he was on his way from Ajaccio, bearing
good news, Murat waited for him, and he arrived the
next day, narrated briefly what he had done, and put into
his hands a paper written in French which said—

His Majesty the Emperor of Austria grants an asylum to King Murat
on the following conditions :-
1st. The King will assume a private name ; the Queen having taken
that of Lipáno, the same is proposed to the King. .
2nd, The King can reside in a city of Bohemia, or Moravia, or Austria
Proper; or, if he wishes, in any country town of the provinces.
3rd. He will give a guarantee on his honour not to abandon the
Austrian States without express permission of the Emperor, and to
live as a private man, subject to the Austrian monarchy.
Given at Paris the 1st of September, 1815.
By command of S. M. F. R. A.,
jº PRINCE METTERNIGII.


EMBARKS FOR NAPLES. 485
“A prison, then,” said Murat, “is my asylum. A prison
is a tomb; and to a king who has fallen from a throne,
there remains nothing but to die like a soldier. You arrive
late, Macerami; I have already fixed my destiny. I
waited three months the decision of the allied sovereigns;
those same men who were once rivals in courting my
friendship, afterward abandoned me to the sword of my
enemies. I go with happy hopes of reconquering my
States. The unfortunate war of Italy has robbed me of
none of my rights; kingdoms are lost and acquired by
arms; a right to a crown is immutable; and fallen kings
raise themselves to their thrones, if it be the will of fortune,
which is the instrument of God. If I fail in my under-
taking, my imprisonment will find an excuse in necessity;
but I never will preserve, as a voluntary slave, under
barbarous laws, the miserable remains of my life. But,
be assured, that Naples shall be my St. Helena.”


XXIII,
On the same night, the 28th of September, the little
fleet weighed anchor, and left the harbour of Ajaccio.
The heavens were serene, the sea was placid, the wind
propitious, the band was in high spirits, and the King was
gay, Fallacious appearances !
The Government of Naples was thoroughly informed of
Murat's movements. As soon as they heard that he was
in Corsica, a spy followed his track. For six days the
fleet sailed prosperously, when it was dispersed by a
tempest which lasted three days—two of the vessels, one
of which bore Murat, wandered into the Gulf of Santa
Eufemia; two others within sight of Policastro; a fifth
upon the coast of Sicily, and the sixth was drifting on the
Sea. Murat hesitated, but afterwards became daring and
desperate; he resolved to land at Pizzo, and move with
twenty-eight followers to the conquest of a kingdom
It was the 8th of October,and a holiday; the Civic Guard

486 JOACHIM MURAT.
were drawn up for exercise in the square, when Murat
landing, with his colours flying, he and his followers cried,
“Viva King Murat " At this shout, the bystanders, who
perceived what must be the unhappy end of so rash an
undertaking, stood mute. Murat, at this cool reception,
hastened his steps toward Monteleone, a populous city,
the capital of the province which he hoped was friendly
to him; for he could not believe it ungrateful. But in
Pizzo, a Captain Trentacapelli, and an agent of the Duke
of Infantado, devoted to the Bourbons, the first by ancient
and atrocious services, and the latter by disposition, hastily
manoeuvered their adherents and partisans, and advanced
upon him with a discharge of muskets. He stopped and
answered them, not by arms, but by salutations. Impunity
increased the courage of the profligate villains; they fired
other shots, killing Captain Moltedo and wounding Lieu-
tenant Pernice. The others then prepared to fight; but
Murat, by a word and motion of his arm, prohibited it.
The enemy crowded round him, and shut up the road,
and there was no escape except to the sea, which was
bordered by overhanging masses of rock, Murat precipi-
tated himself down the steep, and, reaching the shore, saw
his bark moving out to sea. With a loud voice he called
Barbara (the name of its captain), who, hearing him,
pressed his sails still harder, to make gain out of his rich
spoil. It was the act of a villain; for while Murat was
on the throne, he had enticed this man from the life of a
corsair, and, although a Maltese, had admitted him into
his navy, and in a brief space raised him to the command
of a frigate, and made him a cavalier and a baron. Des-
pairing of help from that quarter, Murat tried to launch
from the beach a small vessel—but his force was insuf-
ficient ; and while he was struggling, Trentacapelli, with
his corps, came up. They surrounded him, they seized him,
they stripped from him the jewels he wore on his head


SEIZED AND TRIED. 487
and breast, then wounded him in the face, and with a
thousand insults and injuries outraged his person. This
was the moment of the infamy of his fortune, for the
violence of a villain mob is more bitter than death.
Thus defaced, they dragged him to prison, in the little
castle, together with his companions, whom they had also
seized and maltreated. .
-- XXIV
The Government received intelligence, by telegraph
and courier, of what had happened at Pizzo. But while
messages of death were flying on the wings of telegraphs,
Murat was passing his time serenely in prison. The fatal
order, however, arrived on the night of the 12th. Seven
judges were elected, three of whom, with the procurator
of the law, were among the multitude whom Murat, as a
Sovereign, had raised from nothing, and upon whom he
had heaped gifts and honours. In a room of the castle
this infamous council assembled. .
In another apartment Murat was sleeping the last sleep
of life. Nunziante entered, after broad daylight—com-
miseration would not suffer him to awake the prisoner.
When satisfied with sleep, he opened his eyes. The
General, moved with grief, told him that the Government
had prescribed that he should be judged by a military
tribunal. >
“Alas,” he answered, “I am lost The order for trial is
an order for death.” 2 . . .
He covered his eyes and wept ; but, ashamed of his
tears, he controlled himself, and asked if he should be
allowed to write to his wife. The General replied with an
affirmative sign, for his heart was full and his voice suffo-
cated. Murat, with a steady hand, wrote in French—
My DEAR CARonne,—My last hour has sounded. In a few
moments I shall have ceased to live, and you to have a husband. Do
not forget me! I die innocent—my life is stained with no injustice.
488 JoACHIM MURAT.
Farewell, my Achilles' farewell, my Letizia farewell, my Lucient
farewell, my Louisa Show yourselves to the worldworthy of me. I
leave you without kingdoms, without fortune, among many enemies.
Be united and superior to misfortune. Remember what you are—not
what you have been, and God will bless your discretion. Do not
reproach my memory. Believe that my greatest suffering in the last
moment of life is in the thought of dying far away from my children.
Receive a father's blessing; receive my embraces and my tears. Pre-
serve always in your memory the recollection of your unhappy father.
Pizzo, 13th October, 1815. JoACHIM.
He cut several locks of his hair, and inclosed them in
the letter, which he consigned and recommended to the
General. - & . . .
Captain Starace was chosen his defender, and he pre-
sented himself to the unfortunate man to announce to
him the painful office he had to perform in the presence
of his judges, Murat answered—
“They are not my judges, but my subjects; private
men do not judge kings, nor can they be judged by another
king, for he has no authority over his equals. Kings have
no judges but God and the people; and if I am regarded
as a marshal of France, a council of marshals may judge
me; and if as a general, a council of generals. Before I
descend to the baseness of these appointed judges, many
pages must be torn from the history of Europe. That
tribunal is incompetent—I blush at it.”
Starace implored him to consent to be defended; but he
replied, with the firmest resolution, “No, sir! You can-
not save my life; let me preserve the decorum befitting
a king. This is not to be a trial, but a condemnation;
and those who call themselves my judges are my execu-
tioners. You will not speak in my defence; I prohibit
you.” . .” gº º
The advocate left in sadness. The judge who was
making up the process entered, and, according to custom,
demanded his name, and was going on to say something


HIS LAST HOURS. 489
else, but the prisoner cut off his troubl discourse by
saying, “I am Joachim Murat, King of the Two Sicilies,
and yours. Depart ; take yourself away from my prison "º
When he was left alone, he bowed his head towards the
earth, with his arms crossed over his breast and his eyes
fixed on the portraits of his family; his rapid sighs, his
profound affliction, showed how bitter were the thoughts
that pressed on his heart. Finding him in that attitude,
Captain Stratti, his benevolent keeper, did not dare to
address him ; but Murat spoke, and said— -
“In Pizzo there is joy over my calamity (he supposed,
or knew it), but what have I done to make them enemies?
I have spent for their advantage all the fruits of my long
hardships in war, and I leave my family poor. I gave
fame to the army, and rank to the nation, among the
most powerful of Europe. For love of you I forgot every
other affection; I was ungrateful to the French, who
would have judged me on the throne, from which I
descend without fear or remorse. In the tragedy of the
Duke d'Enghien, which King Ferdinand now vindicates
by another, I had no part ; and I swear it to that God
before whose face I shall soon appear.” . .
He was silent for a moment, and then continued—
“Captain Stratti, I feel the need of being alone. I render
you thanks for the love shown to me in my adversity, nor
have I any other way to prove my gratitude but by con-
fessing it. May you be happy " : . . …. :::::::::::
Here Murat ceased; and Stratti, weeping, left him alone.
Soon after, before the sentence was published, the priest
Masdea entered and said— .
“Sire, this is the second time that I address you.
When your Majesty came to Pizzo, five years ago, I asked
your help to complete our church, and you granted more
than we hoped. My voice then not having been unheeded
by you, to-day I have faith that you will listen to my





490 JoACHIM MURAT.
prayers, which are turned only to the eternal repose of
your soul.” - . º
Murat perf l the duties of a Christian with philo-
sophical resignation, and, at the request of Masdea, wrote
in French the following words, “I declare that I die as a
true Christian.—J. M.” . .
. XXV.
While these pious offices were being performed in one
room of the castle, far different scenes were being enacted
in another. “That Murat, who had been brought by
the fortune of arms to the private rank to which he was
born, had come on a rash enterprise, with twenty-eight
companions, confiding not in war, but tumults; that he
had stirred up the people to rebellion; that he had warred
against legitimate sovereignty; that he had attempted the
revolution of the kingdom and of Italy; and that therefore,
as a public enemy, he was, by the force of the law of the
Decennio, still maintained in vigour, condemned to die.”
That law dictated by Murat seven years before, and
benignly suspended by him in many cases of government,
was the instrument of his death. º .
The sentence was heard by the prisoner with coldness
and disdain. A company of soldiers that had been sta-
tioned in a small inclosure of the castle was drawn up in
two lines. Murat would not have his eyes bandaged. He
gazed serenely on the preparations of arms, and, taking
the place where he was to be shot, said to the soldiers—
“Save my face—aim at my heart ſ” . r
A volley of musketry answered his words, and the once
King of the Two Sicilies was no more He fell, grasping
in his hands the miniatures of his family, which, together
with his unhappy remains, were buried in the same temple
which his piety had erected, a


Book x.
Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
Emperor of the French. Born at the Palace of the Tuileries, April 20,
A CONSUMMATED era or a completed life presents a fair
and safe field for the labours of an annalist. In each
case the facts are accomplished, and all that can be known
it is in the power of industry to reveal. Standing far
back from the point of view, each object, each event,
assumes its true proportions in relation to the whole;
while many a tangled maze of intention and effect, of
“sum-m-jective and om-m-jective” influences, impossible
to be understood on the scene and at the time of action
even by the actors, grows plain to an intelligent mind re-
volving the finished game afar off. He, however, who
attempts to judge current history attempts a hard thing.
He has few results to confirm judgment ; and of the mul-
titude of causes which seethe around him in one cauldron
with himself, some are to be understood only in their
results, others appear with exaggerated importance or are
altogether unsuspected, while many are tools in the fingers
of that over-ruling God who takes no man into his coun-
sels. “History, when we look at it in small portions,”
says Macaulay, “may be so construed as to mean any-
thing.” . .
Not that we are altogether without chart or compass
in the cauldron. There are certain broad, universal and
immutable laws, applicable at once to solar systems and

492 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
the economy of an ant-hill—to the growth and progress,
the health and disease of races and nations, as well as of
every member of mankind. Neither races nor men are
born equally hardy or equally foolish. Each has a cha-
racter distinct from all others—each fills a position,
important or unimportant, which no other could fill;
each lives its own life, and dies its own death, and esta-
blishes its own monument, whether for warning or
encouragement. But (unless, of course, they die young,
from incipient disorder, outward accident or outward
tyranny) all nations and all men have an identical course
to pursue, from childhood to youth, from youth to man-
hood, old age, and death; and whether this course shall
be honourable and prosperous or dishonourable and dis-
astrous, whether or not their manhood be powerful and
prolonged, their decline glorious, their children (or colo-
nies) well established in the world, depends upon the same
conditions in the one case as in the other. Tepravity,
vacillation, turbulence, or weakness, whether moral or
political—luxuriousness, energy, venality, and all other
such qualities, whether they belong to individuals or to
societies—have ever been followed by the same conse-
quences; and so far as it is safe to predicate of them in
these circumstances, it is safe to do so in those also.
Beyond these laws, again, is the rule of right. Prophets
are no more sent from God, at intervals of centuries,
to rebuke wicked and blasphemous peoples; but most
unhappy would be the inference therefrom, either that
the world needs them less, or that in its need it is aban-
doned. For it is now the greater fortune, and at the same
time the greater peril of the world, that one wiser than
the prophets came once for all, to incorporate in the single
institution of Christianity more than could be taught by
all the prophets, in all the centuries of the earth's ex-
istence; and one must first forget history, put aside the

HIS PARENTAGE, 493
Christian name, and go back through eighteen centuries
of light into pagan darkness, before he can consistently
suppose that it is safer for us than for Nineveh to despise
the established will of Heaven, º
These, of course, are broad principles—too ponderous,
perhaps, to be absolutely applied to details, and, at best,
giving only distant results, in outline. Nevertheless,
they certainly shed light, fainter or brighter, upon every
item of daily life; and in such obscurity as surrounds
the relation of Louis Napoleon to France, and of Napo-
leonised France to history, offer the only safe guidance,
perhaps, - ‘........."
::::... . . . . . I, :
Charles Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, third and only
surviving son of Louis Bonaparte, and Hortense, daughter
of the Empress Josephine, was born at the Tuileries on
the 20th of April, 1808, seven months after the final
separation of his parents. Victor Hugo, in sketching the
life of this young man, says he is “the son of Hortense
de Beauharnais, married by the Emperor to Louis King
of Holland;’ an imputation more cleverly than candidly
conveyed. And, indeed, could the doubt of Louis Napo-
leon's legitimacy, so frequently insinuated, be ever so well
Sustained, we now live in too advanced an age to receive it
as personally disgraceful to him ; whatever discredit may be
reflected upon those who so offer it, from no surer ground
than the best they can claim to stand upon. The ideas
of society, even upon questions of honour, are not immu-
table; and it is now no more believed that an accident of
parentage is sufficient to contradict the honour of a life,
than that the same accident is capable of conferring that
“divine right” by which princes have claimed to be
despotic. Politically viewed, however, the question is of
real importance; and if more reasonable grounds for in-
quiry existed than such as scandal-mongers have been

494 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
pleased to furnish ever since the foundation of the world,
a Frenchman, at least, might well be excused pursuing it.
Pſe might very pardonably desire to 1 red that the
representative of the “Idée Napoléonienne,” th #.
of the “souvenirs de l'Empire,” is not the son of a Dutch
admiral, as a recent writer re-asserts; * or even, on the
other hand, that he derives his apostolic authority not
more immediately than through the brother of the
Emperor. But originating from nought pectabl
than the assertion of that unhappy Minister of Police,
Fouché, and sustained by nothing more confirmatory than
the disunion of Hortense and her husband, the scandal
cannot be entertained by any candid mind; more espe-
cially, perhaps, because Louis Napoleon, if “the deplorable
prestige of a name” did indeed confer upon him the honours
of a presidential chair, derives his present despotic autho-
rity from other and perfectly independent That
the coup d'état was struck, carrying down laws and men,
is the fact; whether it was necessary or justifiable is the
question; but whether Charles Louis Napoleon Bonaparte
* Ce déplorable prestige d’un nom a fait toute incroyable fortune de
M. Bonaparte, Eh, bien! ce nom ne lui appartient réellement pas, M.
Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte n'est pas “le néveu de l'Empereur,” comme
l'appelle toujours M. Persigny. . . . M. Louis-Napoléon Bonaparte
n’a pas une goutte du sang Napoléon dans ses veines. Il est le fils de
l'amiral hollandais Verhuel. Tie roi de Hollande, Louis Bonaparte, le
Sawait; et me voulait pas reconnaitre l’intrus. Il ne recula que devant
le scandale d’une déclaration publique. Cette naissance adultére n'était
un secret pour personne en Hollande. Elle fut célébrée par les sarcasmes
de la poésie populaire. Un vieillard qui se trouve en ce moment à
Bruxelles se rappelle 11ne chanson qui courtāt alors à Amsterd Nous
on avons retenu le refrain:
. “Le roi de Hollande
Fait la contrebande,
Ft sa femme
. . . . . . . . Fait de faux Louis,” -
So writes M. Schoelcher, an exiled representative; but whether at that
period the populace of Amsterdam commonly composed their street songs
in the French language is not stated. .


BIRTH AND BAPTISM, 495.
or M. Charles Verhuel is to be justified, is a matter of
the least importance, ‘. . . . . . . . . . .
It has been repeated often enough to be well known
that Louis Napoleon was “born upon the steps of a
throne.” He was the first prince of the dynasty, born
under the imperial régime, whose birth was announced
with public and military honours; indeed, the only one,
with the single exception of the Duke of Reichstadt, son
of the Emperor himself. Upon the death of this prince
in 1832, the grandson of the repudiated Josephine came
to be regarded as heir to an empire which then was not.
In 1810 Louis Napoleon was baptised at Fontainbleau,
with all the pomp of Church and Court combined, the Em-
peror and the Empress Marie Louise acting as sponsors.
In 1816, upon the restoration of the Bourbon dynasty
in the person of Louis XVIII., Hortense (now Duchess
of St. Leu) retired with her son to Bavaria. Here, how-
ever, they were not long permitted to remain ; and, after
brief refuge in Switzerland, they finally established them-
selves at Rome. The education of the young prince was
intrusted to a certain M. Lebas, son of an active partisan
of Robespierre, and who, in that magnificent spirit of
suicide which France alone has inherited from the classics,
shot himself to avoid the disgrace of outliving that
republican, .
During the few years that elapsed between the downfall
of Napoleon and the year 1830, Europe remained tranquil,
reposing in the blood of millions of men, beneath which
the ruins of revolution after revolution had all become
submerged. Before this blood had ceased crying from
the ground, audibly to the ears of men, the fury of
political discontent again broke out, and again the throne
of the Bourbons was shaken by revolution. Charles X.
driven into exile, the Bonapartes assembled at Rome in
family council (December, 1830), to consider the offers of
496. LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
fortune. Madame Mère, Cardinal Fesch, Jerome Bona-
parte, Hortense and her son Louis—then a young man of
twenty-two—were assembled upon this occasion. The
result of the conference is not known; but the Papal
Government, alarmed at the obvious vitality of the
Napoleonic “idea,” and especially at the presence of Louis
Napoleon, intimated to Cardinal Fesch the propriety of
his quitting the Ecclesiastical States. This intimation
being disregarded, measures were taken to enforce it; and
Louis Napoleon was escorted to the frontiers by a troop
of mounted carabinieri, . .
But in expelling the young prince, the Papal authorities
insured to themselves little less vexation than his presence
at Rome would have occasioned. The revolution of July
exerted influences beyond Paris. Poland once more en-
deavoured to recover her lost liberties, and be again a
nation; the free cities of Germany, Belgium, the Austrian
Empire, and the ancient republics of Italy, all became
agitated; and, early in 1831, Ferrara, Urbino, and other
Italian towns, broke into open and armed revolt. Here
Louis Napoleon and his elder brother at once threw in
their influence. They joined the insurgents, became con-
spicuous in camp and council, and, in concert with Gen-"
eral Sercognani, repulsed the forces of the Pope on several
occasions.
These successes were sufficiently important, not only
to inflate the hopes of the revolutionists, but seriously to
alarm the Vatican, Want of union, however, the prime
cause of failure in many a noble undertaking, and
paucity of military talent in the insurgent forces, soon
changed the complexion of affairs; and the prompt
intervention of an Austrian army and a French fleet
hurried the attempt into ruin. An edict of banish-
ment was issued against the brothers; but, meanwhile, a
decree superseding all others had gone out against the

sudden sickness at Faenza,
t. Leu, apprised of the proceedings of
I to fly from Rome; and, disguised
astic, Louis Napoleon escaped
mperor Napoleon had
wever, they were not more sec .
łome; in entering France they only
new danger; but, counting upon the ge
ing, whose obligations to Hortense were
ause indirectly conferred and accepted,
resolved to push on to Paris, and throw themselv
his hands. It was mainly through the influence of H
ense that the mother and aunt of Louis Philippe
to reside in France when that country was und
of Napoleon; and, more, that in this positi
f 600,000 francs was granted to ma
a king more effectually than armies, or laws, even §
“divine right” which has been held superior to law. It
he suppliants, Louis Philippe endeav
m. Louis Napoleon, as a little fav
ission to enter the army, even as ap
request (very reasonably, we think)
sº . 2 K














































498 Louis Napoleon Bonaparte.
º son were peremptorily commanded to quit the real
also denied ; and, finally, the Duchess of St. Leu and her
One sure retreat there was, and still is, for all the exiled
º and unfortunate ; and this retreat they sought. They
did not, however, remain long in England, but returned
to Switzerland (August 31), and established their residence
at Arenemberg. In April of the following year, Louis
Napoleon was elected by the canton of Thurgovia to the
rights of citizenship—an honour which, it was announced
in a letter signed by the authorities, was conferred “in
gratitude for the many favours bestowed upon the canton
by the Duchesse de St. Leu's family, since her residence at
Arenemberg,” and to mark “how highly it esteems the
generous character of the family, and appreciates the
preference they have given to the canton.” This honour,
so flatteringly conveyed, Louis Napoleon acknowledged in
corresponding terms, asserting that “in all the changes
of my future career, as a Frenchman and as a Bona-
parte, I shall be proud of being the citizen of a free
nation;” and further to show his appreciation of it, the
Prince presented the authorities with two six-pounder
guns, with carriages, &c., and founded a free-school in the ,
village of Sallenstein.
Louis Napoleon, at no time an idle man, generally
turned his exile to good account. At Arenemberg he
deeply engaged in the study of the history and political
principles of his great uncle, history and politics generally,
and military affairs. He entered the military school of
Thun as a volunteer, and, turning his attention particularly
to the history and application of artillery, at length pro-
duced the first volume of a work on the matter; which,






ts artillery regiment. On receiving the commission,
Prince addressed the following note to the Vice-
ent of the Govel ment, M. Tavel. .
Monsieur Le PRESIDENT, I have this moment received the warrant
informing me that the Executive Council of the city of Berne has ap-
pointed me to the office of captain of artillery. I hasten to return my
acknowledgments, for you have realised my utmost wishes. My own
country, or rather the Government of France, repulses me because I -
am the nephew of a greatman. You are more just to m
I am proud of being ranked among the defenders of a Stat .
sovereignty of the people is recognised as the base of the constit
and whose every citizen is ready to sacrifice his life for
independence of his country,
º Receive the assurance, &c.,
º Naporos-Louis Bonapart
T arly were liberty and independence glorified
the mouth of a man who now denies the excellence of th
principle except in application to himself. This mili
appointment was, however, simply honorary. There is
no standing army in Switzerland, and the principal effect
the young Prince's commission was m to afford
him increased advantages in the prosecution of his military


































*
That Prince—justifiably or not, as
ee—considered this report of suffici
cont adict it in ſuch terms as follo º
sº Arenemberg, Dec. 14, 1835.
Several journals have announced my departure for Portugal,
I pretended to the hand of Queen Donna Maria. ever pleasing might
be the idea of a union with a youthful, beautiful, and virtuou .
s
ent
widow of a cousin who was dear to me, it is nevertheless incumb
upon me to contradict such a rumour, being unaware of anyt
should have occasioned it.
To myself it is due to add that, notwithstanding the livel
which must attach to the destinies of a people who hav
cently acquired their liberties, I should decline the honour of
the throne of Portugal were attention directed to me with such a view.
The noble conduct of my father, who, in 1810, abdicated because he
could not reconcile the interests of France with those of Holland, I have
that the letter is a mere political manifesto, for which
this rumour afforded an opportune and happy disguise.





































hen in garrison at Strasbourg
ich the Emperor Na-
five spirit of burlesque. Louis.
ng letter addressed to his mot
lied a narrative of this rash attempt
take it.f Both appear to be state
dour; and in adopting this histo
we cannot, at any rate, be suspected o
ith consider
v of the affair.
# g;#
Bonaparte prejudices. First epitomising
e to New York, to whic §§§
he movement,



























§ lans being prepared, Louis Napoleon started
Arenemberg on the 26th, and arrived on the 27th of
October at Lahr, an inconsiderable town in the Grand
shy of Baden. Here, the axle of his carri ng
roken down, he remained till the following morning,
h.
hen he retraced his path through Fribourg, Neubrisach,
º Colmar, arriving in Strasbourg at eleven o'clock at
night; so far without accident or interruption. A small
apartment had been engaged for him in the Rue de la
Fontaine, and here he at once established himself.
On the following morning (the 29th) the Prince called
upon Colonel Vaudrey, and submitted to him in
the operations he proposed to follow. The nature of this
plan we are left to conjecture. For his part, the Colonel
seems to have objected to it that “it is not a question of
strife; your cause is too French, it is too pure, to
sullied in the blood of Frenchmen. One course alone is
worthy of you, because by it conflicts will be avoided.
When you are placed at the head of my regiment, we
will march together to the residence of General Voirol.
An old soldier, he will not be able to resist sight of you
and the imperial eagle, especially when he knows that
the garrison supports you.” “I approved his a gu ents,”
says Louis Napoleon, “and everything was arranged for
the following morning.” §.
Apartments in a house in the Rue des Orphelins, near
the quartier d’Austerlitz, had been engaged, where the
conspirators were to assemble before joining the soldiers
at the barracks. At eleven o'clock the same e §

































nition and joy. The officers wore their regi-
ind Louis Napoleon is careful to remark that
the artillery uniform, and had the hat
eral officer o his head.
d been arranged that they were to remain quietly
in this house until they should receive a message from
Colonel Vaudrey. Six o'clock of the following morning
was the appointed hour; the Prince passing the night
away in writing his proclamations, which had not been
ted through fear of disclosure. At five o'clock the
the uni-
ic
forms assembled below) were disturbed by the noi
sarily occasioned where so many meet. They were
ever,p oved to be groundless; the soldiers w
A few minutes after, it was announced to the Prince
that the Colonel awaited him, “Full of hope,” says Louis
Napoleon, “I rushed into the street. On each side of me
&: Parquin, wearing the uniform of a general of
nd a commander of battalion (M. de Quérelles)
In this order, and in the grey of morning,
ut for the barracks, which were close at han
standing alone in its centre, with his
ms, and a body of horse-artillery drawn
Louis Napoleon advanced towar

































Emperor
»pene
O march with me against he beir
country, to the cry of ‘Vi

to his room followed by
d two officers; the General
oduced no effect upon
*

Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
But, proceeding on its march, the little army no
quitted the high street, and entered the barrack of Fin-
latt by a narrow lane. This barrack—or, on the present
occasion, trap—was built at the end of an alley which had
no thoroughfare; while the space before the building was
too confined to allow of the evolutions of a regiment.
Louis Napoleon thus suddenly found himself hemme
“between the rampart and the soldiers' quarters.”
induced the greater number to return into the barrack
for their arms and join his men. Suddenly, however,
amongst the soldiery—caused, says Louis Napoleon, by
doubts of his identity promulgated by the officers. He
remembered, too, that instead of hastening to join those
regiments who were expecting them, they were consuming
valuable time in a dangerous position; and he suggested
to Colonel Vaudrey that they should abandon the place,
The Colonel, however, urged the policy of remaining:
in a few minutes after, they found themselves deprived of
all choice in the matter.
Some infantry-officers now arrived on the scene,
ordered the gates to be closed, and reprimanded their
men. Perceiving that these still wavered, Louis Napo-
leon attempted to arrest the newly-arrived officers. They
were rescued, and then ensued disunion and confusion.
There being insufficient space for any combined action,
Bonapartes and Orleanists jostled in one mad mélée.
Stones were thrown, and though the artillerymen evinced
some disposition to dignify the character of the enterprise
by a demonstration with their guns, it nevertheless fell
to pieces, and went out in an ignominious fracas. Colonel
Vaudrey, now and then arrested, was as often hust
back into the ranks of his men. After figur
Upon approaching the building, the soldiery came out
and crowded round the Prince, who harangued them, and
new symptoms of hesitation began to manifest themselves


















his hand to him, “we shall be s
y.” “Yes” replied the Prince
in a grand and noble enterprise.”
sº irol visited the guard-room
d other officers; and, the insurre *-----'-
now quelled, they were all promptly con eye | in carriages
- w prison at Strasbourg. -
risoners were subjected to
poleon's case, he reports

e of which he was
seated, with a commandant of gendarmerie and Lieutenant
Thiboulet. These gentlemen had served under the Empire,
were personal friends of the Prince's associate, M. Parquin,
and treated their prisoner with great politeness
attention. The other carriage was occ
officers.
On the 11th they arrived i Pari
Police, where Louis Napoleon's f
formed him that the King's clem
for him, that in two hours he w
Lorient, and that, ultimately, he was to
a French frigate to the United States.
which contains this infor


















rate, that she had hurried to
al clemency. In such case
constantly asserted, that º
o remain in America,
o be brought to trial
St. Leu pledg
wever, no other or
the evidence of probabilitie
young Prince to America was towe
turn was not at all contemplat
tained at Paris, Louis Napoleon ad
Odillon Barrot (then an advocate), requ
dertake the defence ofhis friends, and “ espec
audrey.” In this letter, while acknowled
mency of the King, the Prince expressed H
spite of his remonstrances, he had not
appear at the bar with those who sup
proceeded to instruct M. Barrot i
hich he himself would have ad
their offence had the oppo
h
was destin
till the 29th,
M. Parquin, or any of the officers whom t
ssembled (in uniform), made acquainted
“I, who for a long time past ha
in, came suddenly amongst these me
n honourable position, and invo §
f a popular movement.” The good-
on . 29th October of the attempt *
head at dawn of the 30th ; and that not
nig .


















































Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
i prince further furnished M. Barrot with th
peech which persuaded the conspirators into their sudden
The facts of the case, as given by Napoleon himself in
the same narrative as contains these statements, are, how-
ever, totally opposed to them ; what is worse, those facts
are, and Louis Napoleon must then have known them to
be, so “obvious to the meanest capacity,” that it is hard
to suppose he could have entertained a hope of being
believed, or any idea that derelictions so apparent could
have served his friends. It is easy to perceive, on the
other hand, that such statements were eminently calcu-
lated to serve himself, in a quarter the most desirable
and necessary to his fortunes, i. e. the minds of the people:
an object so sufficient and satisfactory that we need seek
none other. In no country is the garb of generosity and
self-sacrifice paraded to better purpose than in France—
no matter how awkwardly, no matter the flourishing of
trumpets calling all people to see and honour, or the hollow-
ness of intention; and Louis Napoleon well knew that
the éclat of so trying to shield his compatriots would be
none the less if the endeavour was to be made without
risk to himself or benefit to them; and must fail of any
other effect whatever. The speech, indeed, is simply
another manifesto adroitly issued through the sacred
medium of the law, setting forth the glories of the Empire,
and its exclusive capability of uniting the interests of all
* Victor Hugo mentions this letter as having been read before the
Court of Assize by the Advocate Parquin, who, upon concluding,
exclaimed, “Among the numerous faults of Louis Napoleon, we must
not, at least, include the crime of ingratitude!” §










BANISHMENT.
are the details of the “insurrection of Stras.
as given (and, we believe, honestly) by Louis
Napoleon himself. The reasons, in the popular sense of
that word, which impelled him to an enterprise so wild
in itself and so crudely concerted, had better, perhaps,
be t in connexion also with another still more wild,
and still more unfortunate in detail; an enterprise which,
will be the gainer, mayhap, by having attached to it,
however distantly, any reasons at all; and towards which
The Prince arrived at New York early in the sprin
1837, and, it is said, “devoted himself with energy
zeal to the study of American politics, and investig .
the actual state of arts, sciences, and inventions;”
being particularly interested in the phenomena of elect
magnetism. That these studies were not simply virtu
assumptions we have authority to believe from the fact that,
almost immediately after the event of the 2nd of December,
had been levelled by a storm; and I said to myself our m
arriage 18,
to be broken off. What I vaguely guessed at is now realised; and n
in 1836, is all the happiness which was destined for me exhauste
e will leave Matilda and the fallen tree to group themselves in the
- ind, gracefully, with another incident which has a very
redeeming effect in the frigid panorama of an ambitious life, Speak-
ing to his mother he says, “This is New Year's Day. . . . I am 1500
agues from you, in another hemisphere; but happily, thought trave
II this space in less than a moment. At half-past four we dined.
As we were at that time in 17 degrees longitude west of Constance, it
was seven o’clock at Arenemberg. You were then at dinner also, pro-
bably; drank to your health, pleasing myself with the th
tyou were at the same time, perhaps, drinking to me.” Certai
e Bonapartes have been ever good brothers and sons.
markable, too, that a companion of Louis Bon parte on bo d









































any person who should discover a method of applying
e tricity to the practical arts. It argues great activity
and what would seem to be the utter annihilati all
of mind that within a few weeks from his transportation,
political hope the young Princeshould be capable of busy-
ing himself in the intricacies of science and the problems
------------- to
ocial life. It is at least true that he had pre
start on a tour of exploration into Central America only
three months after his arrival on that continent; but
on receiving a letter from his mother, dated the 3rd of
April, apprising him of the precarious condition of her
health, and that she was about to undergo an opera-
tion which might terminate fatally, it was of course aban-
doned,
Upon receipt of this letter Louis Napoleon set out at
once for Europe and for Switzerland, arriving in time to
wait at the death-bed of his mother, who died on the 5th
of October.
But, the obsequies concluded, and the object of his
journey to Europe fulfilled, Louis Napoleon did not return
to America; nor did he long remain in hospitable Switz-
erland ere he embarrassed its Government by inviti
. al Europe to observe his presence there. Not now b
, of the Stras-
reviewing that
ment either affected to be or really were ala
was arrested, brought to trial before the











AGAIN IN SWITZERLAND, 513
by Louis Napoleon shortly before the trial certainly
contributed. Sophistical and selfish, it runs thus,
& Arenemberg, July 2, 1838,
MY DEAR LAITY, -You are going, then, to appear before the Court of
Peers, because you h had the g levotion to reproduce the
details of my enterprise, to justify my intentions, and to repel the ac-
cusations to which I have been subjected. I do not understand what
importance the Government can attach to the publication of this brochure.
You know that, in authorising you to publish it, my only object was to
rebut the base calumnies with which the organs of the Ministry have
covered me during the five months I was in prison or at sea. It concerned
my honour and that of my friends to prove that it was not a foolish am-
bition which led me to Strasbourg in 1836. They say that your book is
evidence of a new conspiracy, while, on the contrary, it defends me from
the charge of having ever conspired ; and it is stated in its earlier pages
that we waited nearly two years before we published the details which
related to me, when men’s minds might be calmed, and capable of
judging the matter without animosity or prejudice. . .
If, as I fain believe, a spirit of justice animates the Court of Peers—
if it is as independent of the executive power as by the constitution it
should be—there is no possibility that it will condemn you; for, as I
cannot too often repeat, your pamphlet is not a new call for revolt, but
a true and simple explanation of a matter which has been misrepre-
sented. I have no dependence in the world but public opinion, nothing
to sustain me but the esteem of my fellow-countrymen. If I am not
allowed to defend myself, nor my friends allowed to defend me against
unjust calumnies, my fate must be most cruel. You know my friend-
ship for you well enough to feel how much I am pained at the idea that
you should become the victim of your devotedness ; but I also know
that, with your noble character, you suffer in a popular cause with re-
signation. You will be asked, as certain journals already ask, Where
is the Napoleonic party? The party is nowhere, but the cause every-
where. The party is nowhere, because my friends are nowhere
organised ; but the cause everywhere has partisans, from the workshop
of the artizan to the council-chambers of the King—from the barrack of
the soldier to the palace of the marshal of France. Republicans, juste-
milieu, Legitimists—all who wish for a strong Government, real liberty,
and dignity in the executive power—all these, I say, are Napoleonists,
Whether they avow it or not ; for the imperial system is not a bastard
imitation of the English or the American constitutions, but a formula of



- 2 L
514 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
government founded on the principles of the Revolution: it is a
hierarchy in democracy, it is equality in law, the recompense of merit;
it is, in fine, a colossal pyramid, with broad base and lofty head.
Say, then, that in authorising you to issue this publication, my object
was not now to disturb the tranquillity of France, nor to revive ill-
suppressed passions, but to show myself to my country uch as I
am, and not as interested enmity has pictured me. But if one day the
conflicts of parties should overturn the powers that be (the experience
of fifty years past allows of such a supposition), and if, accustomed as
for the last three-and-twenty years they have been to set all authority
at nought, they sap the foundations of the social edifice—then, perhaps,
the name of Napoleon may prove an anchor of safety for all that is
generous and truly patriotie in France. .
For this reason I hold, as you are aware, that the honour of the
eagle of the 30th of October should remain intact, notwithstanding
its defeat, and that people should not take the nephew of the Em-
peror for an ordinary adventurer. You will be asked, no doubt,
what authority you have for the assertions you will advance ; you may
reply that you derive them from me, and that I declare, upon my honour,
that they were guaranteed to me by credible men. º,
Adieu, my dear Laity. I would still hope in justice, if present
interest were not the exclusive morale of parties. .
Receive, &c., .
NAPOLEON-LOUIS.
Whatever could be necessary, whatever could be de-
sired to merge this young lieutenant in the fullest
implication, was thus furnished by Louis Napoleon; who
nevertheless was distressed at the idea that he should
become the victim of his devotion. But here, again, was
an excellent opportunity for promulgating the Napoleonist
idea, and it could not be lost.
With the condemnation of Laity, however, the Govern-
ment of Louis Philippe did not rest. The expulsion of
the young Bonaparte was formally demanded of the Hel-
vetic Government; but it is not the policy of that
Government, nor at all in accordance with the spirit of
the people, to yield an iota of the liberties so honourably
won and so long maintained, of which the right of asylum
is not the least. The request was steadily rejected ; and


REFUGE IN LONDON. . 515
when, to enforce it, a French army marched upon the
Swiss frontier, the Cantons prepared, not to succumb, but
to resist. Louis Napoleon, however, did not push the
embarrassment of the Diet to the extremity of war. In
a gracefully-written letter to President Landamann he
made known his purpose of quitting Switzerland, and
fulfilled the intention shortly after. It may have been
meritorious thus to decide, and avert calamity from his
friends; it might have been equally meritorious, how-
ever, had he come to that decision earlier, so saving the
anxiety caused by its near approach, and the expense of
preparation to meet it. Immediately upon the retire-
ment of the Prince, the French army was returned to
garrison. ‘. . . . . . . . . . ;
This occurred in September, 1838. Again the Prince
took refuge in England, “cette grande et généreuse terre
d'asile de l’Europe;” but he had not long enjoyed the
quiet of retirement—if retirement be quietude or at all
enjoyable to such spirits—before his name again became
common in the public mouth : this time in connexion
with apronunciamiento declared at Barbes—an insurrection
sufficiently serious to result in puddling the streets with
blood. It was said in France, and repeated in the English
journals, that this disturbance had been caused by Louis
Napoleon. This, however, he denied in a letter to the
Times, declaring that “the sanguinary scenes which had
just taken place” had “equally surprised and affected”
him; and adding that, “if I were the soul of a cons
spiracy, I should also be the leader of it in the day of
danger”—Hamlet would be omitted from the play else—
and “I should not deny it after a defeat.” This we be-
lieve; it is (as on occasion of the Strasbourg affair he
averred) his “róle;” but as it has never yet appeared to be
his rôle to be affected at a sanguinary scene, we cannot
accept any assurance to that effect. º


516 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
In this his second visit to England Napoleon spent
nearly two years. By common report, not only in
England but among his political opponents in France,
these months were passed in undignified and even un-
princely debaucheries. “His days and nights were passed
on the turf, in the betting-room, and in clubs, where high
play and desperate stakes roused the jaded energy of the
blasé gambler. His intimates were among the least cre-
ditable of the ‘gay' world.” It is even averred that he
frequently contributed his presence, his voice, and his
tobacco-cloud to the spouting-clubs of suburban taverns.
But a very conditional credence should be allowed to such
stories. Of all others, they most often, and most often
unjustifiably, fill the mouth of scandal. They are, besides,
of a character which it is always virtuous to enlarge upon
and condemn; and who would not be virtuous at the cost of
condemning vice At the same time, however, and with
every disposition not to do so, we cannot fail to desery a
considerable mole-hill of truth in the mountainous charges
of debauchery which are heaped upon Louis Napoleon;
for which, perhaps, his anomalous position in English
society may wholly account, and partially excuse. There
is, indeed, a strong savour of corroboration in the next
important event in the Prince's life—the invasion of
Boulogne. Viewed as an invasion, more reckless gambling
with future fortune was never offered at the hazard-table;
while as a political movement, in the graver acceptation
of the meaning, it may very well have been contemplated,
and warmly contemplated, within the walls of those sub-
urban taverns, though it may be doubted whether such a
project was ever before carried beyond their protection.
How Louis Napoleon escaped from the castle of Ham
has been minutely particularised : how he got into it has
never been treated in strict detail, except as scattered
through the evidence on the trial before the Court of


BOULOGNE. . 517
Peers, and the less reliable accounts of the public journals.
The following is an uncoloured, perhaps an uncolourable
statement of the facts. . . . . .
. : . . . . . Iv. 3.
In August, 1840, having hired the City of Edinburgh
steamer, Captain James Crow, the Prince embarked thereon
at Margate with General Montholon, General Voisin, MM.
Conneau, Mesonan, Bacciocchi, and others; in all, nearly
sixty persons, including cooks, but exclusive of a tame
eagle, 500,000 francs, and a variety of wines. It is said
by Victor Hugo that the larger portion of this company,
was “deceived into accompanying him by telling them he
was going to Hamburgh on a pleasure-excursion;” that he
“harangued them from the roof of one of his carriages
fastened on the deck, declared his project, threw to
them their disguise as soldiers, gave each a hundred francs,
and then set them to drinking.” Whatever may be the
truth of the former part of this statement, there is the
fullest evidence of the insobriety of the expedition, and
that its great reliance was in five-frame pieces. Captain
Crow, when interrogated before the Court of Peers
on these subjects, answered that “they drank enormously
(ónormément)—I never saw such a thing (‘C'est un Anglais
quiparleſ' wickedly interpolates M. Schoelcher); and of all
sorts of wines.” Another witness, Hobbs, a steward, stated
that “they passed the night in eating and drinking. I did
nothing else but uncork bottles and replenish the table.”
The former witness also stated that each “soldier,” on
stepping on board, received a hundred francs.
At dawn on the 6th of August, the expedition landed
at Wimereux, where they were met by the customs'
officers. The Prince, to open proceedings, offered an
annuity of twelve hundred francs to the lieutenant of the
guard, if he would join him with his men. This officer
ź

518 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTÉ.
refused ; but, unaffected by the repulse, the invaders
marched into Boulogne with shouts of “Vive l'Empereur !”
Some of its officers had tin cases suspended from their
necks, others bags in their hands, all containing money,
which was distributed to the peasants and fishermen. Pro-
clamations were scattered, announcing that the Bourbons
were dethroned, and the appointment of M. Thiers as Presi-
dent of the Council, and M. Clausel as Minister of War.
But the eagle, which it is said was “destined” to fly to the
top of the Colonne de Napoleon, neglected to fill its rôle,
and brought early discouragement upon its compatriots.
For the rest, the National Guard soon beat to arms and
mustered in considerable numbers; when Louis Napoleon
wheeled through the town to the height above Boulogne,
and succeeded in planting a flag surmounted by an eagle
near the Napoleon column. Closely followed, however, by
Captain-Colonel Puygellier and Captain Laroche, with a
body of the 42nd regiment, the invasion precipitately
retreated to the beach, and attempted to reach its steamer;
but in vain. Louis Napoleon and the whole of his fol-
lowers were captured, with no more resistance than was
offered by the Prince himself, who drew a pistol and fired
on the captain—the shot missing the mark, but striking
a grenadier who stood nigh. Several of the unfortunate
men who accompanied the Prince were wounded, and one
was killed while struggling in the surf. -
So, in two hours or less, this second enterprise was con-
cluded, even more disastrously than the former.*
* The reporter in the “Annual Register” says, “We must not forget
to mention that the tame eagle on board the Edinburgh had been intended
to create stage effect, by being let loose from the vessel and flying straight
to the Colonne de Napoleon, where it was to alight, and thus be an omen
of success to the revolution. For this purpose, we believe, the bird had
been trained to take its food from Prince Louis Napoleon. But we cer-
tainly cannot explain how these mad visionaries hoped to make it play its
part in the tragi-comedy they were acting.”
In like manner, n tator has failed to seize upon this episode to


TRIAL AND DEFENCE, & 519
Late in September Louis Napoleon and his accomplices
were brought to trial before the Court of Peers. On the
28th the Prince defended himself in the following bold
speech, which should be attentively read, and held in con-
nexion with his whole career. .”
“For the first time in my life, I am permitted to raise
my voice in France, and to speak freely to Frenchmen.
“Spite of the presence of the Guards who surround
me, notwithstanding the accusations which I have just
heard, filled with the recollections of my earliest child-
hood—on finding myself within the walls of the Senate, in
the midst of you, gentlemen, whom I know, I can hardly
believe that I have here to justify myself, or that you
can be my judges. An opportunity, however, is afforded
me of explaining to my fellow-countrymen my past con-
duct, my intention, my projects—all that I think, all that
I desire.
“Without pride, but equally without weakness, if I
recal the rights deposited by the nations in the hands of
my family, it is only to expound the duties which these
rights have imposed upon us. --- 3. 3. . ,
“Since when, fifty years ago, the principle of the sove-
reignty of the people was consecrated in France by the
mightiest revolution which ever occurred in the history
of the world, never was the national will so solemnly
convey his severest ridicule upon the whole expedition. But wereally are
unaware of any feature in it which can claim so near relationship to reason.
Ridiculously disingenuous as that episode may be, its ingenuity is almost
perfect; for familiarly certain as it is that an escaped mouse will imme-
diately make for the crevice whence it came, it is not more certain than that
an escaped eagle will make for the highest and most isolated pinnacle
at hand. In the present case, this was the Napoleon column on the
heights of Boulogne; and had not the invaders so carefully destroyed the
savage instinct through which alone they could reasonably hope to realise
their purpose, by “training” a bird already enervated by civilisation,
there is every reason to suppose that it would really have occupied that
position. & .


520 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
proclaimed, never was it asserted by suffrages so nume-
rous and so free, as on the adoption of the constitutions of
the Empire. • . . - -- º
“The nation has never revoked that grand act of its
sovereignty; and the Emperor declared, “Whatever
has been done without that authority is illegal.” At the
same time, do not allow yourselves to believe that, led
away by the impulses of personal ambition, I may have
wished to attempt a restoration of the Empire. Too lofty
were the lessons by which I have been trained—too noble
the examples I have had before me.
“I am the son of one who descended without regret
from a throne when he believed that it was no longer
possible to reconcile the interests of France with those
of the people whom he had been called to govern. The
Emperor, my uncle, preferred to abdicate the Empire
rather than accept by treaty the restricted frontiers
which would expose France to the insults and the menaces
in which foreign nations to this day indulge. I have not
lived a single day forgetful of such lessons. The unmerited
and cruel act of proscription which for twenty years has
dragged upon my existence, from the steps of the throne,
where I was born, to the dungeon whence I have just
come, has been powerless alike to irritate or to fatigue
my heart; it has not been able for a single day to estrange
me from the glory, the rights, and the interests of France.
My conduct and my convictions explain the fact.
“When, in 1830, the people reconquered their sove-
reignty, I believed that that conquest would prove as loyal
in its sequences as in itself, and that the destinies of
France were established for ever. Instead of this, the
country has undergone the melancholy experiences of the
last ten years. . -
“I considered, then, that the vote of 4,000,000 citizens
which exalted my family imposed upon us at least the



TRIAL AND DEFENCE, 521
duty of making an appeal to the nation and to seek its
will. I thought also that if in the midst of that national
congress which I intended to convene, certain pretensions
should have made themselves heard, I should have had
the right to re-awaken the glorious - irs of the Empire, -
to speak of the elder brother of the Emperor—of that
virtuous man who, before me, is deservedly his heir ; and
to contrast, face to face, France as she now is, enfeebled and
passed over in silence in the congress of kings, and that
France of a past time, so strong at home, so powerful and
respected abroad. The nation would then have replied
to the question—Republic or Monarchy, Empire or King-
dom? And upon its uncoerced decision depends the
termination of our sorrows and dissensions. º
“As to my enterprise, I repeat it, I had no accomplice.
I alone determined everything ; nobody knew beforehand
my plans, nor my resources, nor my hopes. If I am
guilty towards any, it is toward my friends alone. They
alone, however, do not accuse me of having wantonly
trifled with courage and devotion such as theirs; and they
will understand those motives of honour and prudence
which prevent me from revealing, even to them, how
broad and how powerful were my reasons for hoping for
SūCCéSS. -
“One word in conclusion, gentlemen. I represent before
you a principle, a cause, and a defeat. The principle—it
is the sovereignty of the people ; the cause—it is that of
the Empire; the defeat, Waterloo ! You have recognised
the principle—you have served the cause—you would
avenge the defeat No, there is no disaccord between
you and me, and I will not believe that I can be destined
to be grieved by the defection of others. §
“Representing a political cause, I cannot accept as the
judge of my intentions and of my acts a political tribunal.
Your formalities deceive no one. In the struggle which



522 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
now commences there is only one conqueror and one
conquered. If you are in the ranks of the victor I can-
not expect justice at your hands, and I will not accept of
your generosity.” . º .
This remarkable speech was seconded by an harangue
equally bold, but not more calculated to win upon the
sympathies of the court, from M. Berryer; who was
employed in the defence of the Prince and General Mon-
tholon. Something more than the hired advocate speaks
in the sarcasm of the following language, which no au-
dience, perhaps, deserved so well to hear, or knew so
little how to appropriate and profit by. “I do not
believe,” cried M. Berryer, as reported by Guéronnière,
- “that the right in the name of which this project was
attempted can succumb to the disdain of the Attorney-
General. You allude to the deficient means, the poverty
of the enterprise, to the ridiculous hope of success.
Well, if success is everything, to you who are men, you
who are the first subjects of the realm, members of the
great political body—to you I say, there is an inevitable
Arbiter between every judge and every prisoner. Before
you decide in the face of this Arbiter, and of the country,
who will hear your verdict, can you say to yourselves,
without regard to the deficient means, the right, the
laws, the constitution, “Had this man succeeded, had he
triumphed, I would have refused all participation in his
power—I would have disavowed, I would have repudiated
it 7” As for me, I accept this awful arbitration; and
whoever among you, before God, before his country, shall
say to me, “If he had succeeded I would have denied
this right,’ that man do I acknowledge as my judge.”
But by such arbitration few causes are decided; and
* In this and almost all other instances where the language of Napoleon
the Third is quoted, the text of M. Temblaire (“OEuvres de Louis
Napoléon Bonaparte”) has been closely followed, Guéronnière is quoted
from the authorised translation,
PRISONER OF HAM. 523
however well-meant this appeal, it had little effect we
may assume upon the Court of Peers; nor should it be
supposed that an offence against existing law can ever be
at all palliated by the venality of its judges. That
venality may have constituted the Prince's best defence,
but, if so, his best defence was lack of argument. .
On the 6th of October, the judgment of the court was
pronounced, convicting all the prisoners, and condemning
them to various terms of imprisonment. The punishment
of Lieutenant Aladenise, the only servant of the King
who deserted to the eagle, was exceptional : he was trans-
ported for life. Louis Napoleon was condemned to im-
prisonment for the same term, “At any rate, I shall
have the happiness of dying in France " he is said to
have exclaimed upon the announcement of this sentence.
V.
The gloomy and solitary fortress of Ham was “des-
timed” (to use a consonant phrase) to receive the imperial
prisoner, with his friends Montholon and Conneau. The
treatment he here at first experienced seems to have been
ungenerous; that is to say, he was treated, not as a
prince, but as a prisoner. Of this, nine months after his
incarceration, he bitterly complained in a letter to the
Government; and as in endeavouring to comprehend not
only the character, but the career of Napoleon the Third,
the consideration of his language is of the first import-
ance, we continue to quote whatever may seem most
significant. - -
“Policy,” he admits, “has rights which I do not dispute.
Let Government act towards me as towards its enemy,
and deprive me of the means of doing any harm. So far
it would be right; but, on the other hand, its behaviour
will be inconsequent and dastardly if it treats me, the
son of a king, the nephew of an emperor, and allied to



524 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
all the sovereigns of Europe, as an ordinary prisoner. . . .
Accustomed from my youth to a strict rule of life,
I do not complain of the inconvenient simplicity of my
dwelling; but that of which I do complain is being made
the victim of vexatious measures by no means necessary
to my safe-keeping. . . . .
“All the provisions for the supply of my daily wants
are subjected to the most rigid scrutiny. ------. . . . . * >
“The attentions of my single faithful servant who has
been permitted to follow me, are embarrassed by obstacles
of every kind. Such a system of terror has been esta-
blished in the garrison and among the officials in the
castle, that no individual dares to raise his eyes towards
me; and it even requires extraordinary boldness to be
ordinarily polite. How can it be otherwise when the
simplest civility of a look is regarded as a crime, and
when those who would wish to soften the rigours of my
position without failing in their duty are threatened
with denouncement to the authorities, and the loss of
their situations ! . . . … × º
“This insulting inquisition, which pursues me into my
very chamber, which follows my footsteps when I breathe
the fresh air in a retired corner of the fort, is not limited
to my person alone, but is extended to my very thoughts.
My letters to my family, the effusions of my heart, are
submitted to the strictest scrutiny; and if a letter should
contain any expressions of too lively a sympathy, the
letter is sequestrated, and its writer denounced to the
Government. By an infinity of details too long to enu-
merate, it appears that pains are taken at every moment
of the day to make me sensible of my captivity, and
cry incessantly into my ears, Wae victis / .
“It is important to call to mind that none of the
measures which I have pointed out [they are all re-
tained in these passages] were put in force against the

~ PRISONER of HAM. $’ 3: 525
Ministers of Charles X., whose dilapidated chambers I
now occupy. - . -
“And yet these Ministers were not born on the steps
of a throne l’ . . . . . .”
Such were the indignities to which Louis Napoleon
had to submit ; such the severities inflicted upon a pri-
soner who was born upon the steps of a throne. “I do
not complain of the inconvenient simplicity of my dwel-
ling,” but “the provisions for the supply of my daily
wants are subjected to the most rigid scrutiny. The
attention of my single faithful servant, who has been
permitted to accompany me, are embarrassed by obstacles
of every kind.” - . . . . .
The inviolability of law is so universally and practically
acknowledged by Englishmen, that it is unnecessary here
to defend the right of any Government, legally esta-
blished, to imprison a convicted offender against its au-
thority; it is equally unnecessary to point out, perhaps,
that the right to imprison involves the propriety of taking
precaution against escape out of prison. But, more than
this, it is due to the memory of Louis Philippe to show
that he treated his prisoner with greater consideration
than he had any right to expect at the hands of a
monarch whose right to the throne of France was at
least equal to that of any living Bonaparte—if only for
this reason, the legality of which the Emperor Napoleon
the Third must himself acknowledge: that he had been
elected thereto by the people, who had not yet recalled
his authority. But the complaints of the young Prince
were not deemed too unreasonable to be regarded. All
unnecessary restrictions “to my safe keeping,” and some
the necessity of which eventually appeared, were removed.
His valet Thélin, a man who deserved all the praise his
master could bestow, was allowed to visit the neighbour-
ing town upon any little commission. A garden-plot


526 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
within the walls of the fortress was allotted to the pri-
soner for amusement, a horse was given him for exercise,
and, further to beguile the tedium of captivity, every
facility was allowed for study and the pursuits of literary
life. A lengthy and laborious “Analysis of the Sugar
Question,” an essay on “The Extinction of Pauperism,” the
“Historical Fragments,” and severalcontributionsto a news-
paper, the Progrès du Pas de Calais, were written and pub-
lished during his imprisonment ; besides which, he corre-
sponded freely and frequently with his friends, of whom
Madame Dudevant was at this time not the least.*
In fact, Louis Napoleon seems to have enjoyed in the
Castle of Ham that desire of many men, literary ease;
and it may be said without levity that his position, on the
whole, was equally satisfactory in a political point of view;
as we believe he felt it to be. A little martyrdom is a
desirable thing, sometimes; and instances where it has
been courted with intent and aforethought are notorious,
No great cause, perhaps—by which we mean no important
cause—ever succeeded without it ; it is usually the first
assurance of success, and as such may be safely regarded.
The nearest approach to the triumph of opinions is suffer-
ing for them ; and it follows as a fact more than geo-
graphical, that, a prisoner in the fortress of Ham, Louis
Napoleon was nearer those steps to which reference is so
often made than freedom and seclusion in the cantons, or
freedom and Society in London, could have brought him,
* Of all human attributes, humour or playfulness is the last that the
idiosyncrasies of Louis Napoleon would suggest. Amidst masses of essay
and correspondence of the strictest Napoleonic tone, one stumbles upon
a passage like the following with so much surprise that, to gain confidence
in his apprehension, he has to go over it again: “I am, however, more
happy than the hero of “Picciola; they respect my flowers very care-
fully. I might, indeed, already gather a bouquet worthy of Lady —'s
garden. Perhaps I boast a little in saying this; but then I look upon
my onions with paternal eyes!” ; w . &


PRISONER of HAM. 327
La Guéronnière, indeed, covers the whole ground of his
defence with this fact ; and, excusing himself from demy-
ing the absurdity of the Strasbourg and Boulogne adven-
tures by casting them on Providence, asserts that they
were the direct means of the Prince's after-fortune.
“Strasbourg and Boulogne | Two names which make
the hand tremble and the conscience shudder . . . .
True, 'tis strange—strange ’tis true : Strasbourg and
Boulogne were the causes of the election of the 10th
December. -
“Had not Louis Napoleon Bonaparte put himself for-
ward as Pretender for the Empire, he would probably
never have become President of the French Republic.
Is it a matter of doubt Here is a fact which will
dissipate all uncertainty on that head. The Bonaparte
family did not await a signal from the prisoner of
Ham to appear in France, upon the stage of the new
Republic. The very day after the revolution two young
men of this family hastened to take their part in the
victory.* One, the son of Lucien, a republican like his
father, uniting the Corsican intrepidity to a patriotism
almost Roman : the other, the son of Jerome—active,
young, intelligent, clever, reminding one of his uncle in
his features—the living image of that historical coun-
tenance which is engraven on more hearts than medals.
Who, then, cared to recognise these representatives—these
heirs of an heroic epoch'ſ What recollection went back
to them : What hopes were founded on their names?
What promise was imprinted on their brows | They
passed by, unknown and unnoticed by the people, from
whom nothing escapes, and who see everything. . .
* This passage suggests a vivid picture of these young eagles hastening
to take their part in a victory already won, and slaughter made. Let it
be suppressed! There follows a passage beautiful enough to compensate
the self-denial. . &


528 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
They had not appeared either at Boulogne or Strasbourg
Let Reason humiliate herself before such a result "
Amen . The Almighty God was by law deposed in
your favour, O Reason / Sit in dust, then, be grateful and
expound ! How do you make out this kind of provi-
dential government –Or has that Almighty One risen
up and broken your god in pieces, Frenchmen so that
there is reason no more in France of a political kind, and
your ideas on political subjects get into concatenations
accordingly Such things have been ; and if your
selection of a ruler, of one from several Bonapartes,
is governed by the prestige of adventures which make the
hand tremble and the conscience shudder, and which
Reason must humiliate herself to consider—what con-
dition of things does that import' *:::::::::..
In this place, however, we shall not seek to answer
the question, which rather concerns the history of France
than the history of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte. But
whatever influences, happy or unhappy, it may have
exerted upon the nation, we exactly coincide with
Guéronnière that Louis Napoleon found capital in his
captivity. It was fortunate for himself, at any rate,
that he became a State prisoner, with all the éclat which
always attends such a position, in the midst of a
people who can never forget the glories of “the little
corporal” till the songs of Béranger are forgotten: and
especially when, through rashness, he had given up his
fate into the hands of those whose interest was plainly
to extinguish his fortunes altogether. That the Prince,
contrary to the use of prisoners, himself believed in this
advantage, and congratulated himself upon his captivity
rather than otherwise, we have already suggested; and
were it not that the gravest charge which can be preferred
against a prince and ruler—insincerity of profession—
may more distinctly be substantiated against Napoleon


SENTIMENTs. 529
the Third than any subject capable of substantiation at
all now before the attention of Europe, we should offer
the subsequent letter as proof. As it is, it can only be
offered as evidence. . º
In 1843, rumours of an amnesty were set afloat, and in
reference thereto Louis Napoleon wrote as follows. The
letter (here abridged of irrelative matter) appeared in
the Progrès du Pas de Calais, then edited by M. Frederic
Degeorge, who afterwards became a busy représentant
du peuple and one of the secretaries to the National
Assembly. º º
Fortress of Ham, 18th April, 1843.
You tell me that they talk a good deal in Paris about an amnesty,
and you inquire what are the impressions produced upon me by the
the news. I reply frankly to your question.
If to-morrow the door of my prison were to be opened to me, and
I were told, “You are free come and seat yourself as a citizen at
the hearth of the nation—France no longer repudiates any of her
children P' then, indeed, a lively feeling of joy would seize my soul.
But if, on the contrary, they were to come and offer the alternative of
exile or my present position, I should reject such a proposition; for
in my eyes it would be an aggravation of punishment. I prefer cap-
tivity upon the soil of France to freedom in a foreign land. Moreover, I
know the value of an amnesty granted by the existing authorities. . . .
In banishment for twenty-five years, twice betrayed by Fate, I
have experienced all the vicissitudes and sorrows of this life; and
having got the better of the illusions of youth, I find in the native air
Ibreathe, in study, in the quietude of my prison, a charm which I
never experienced when I participated in the pleasures of a strange
people, when, the conquered, I had to drink out of the same cup
with the conqueror of Waterloo. . . - º
In a word, I should repeat, if the necessity presented itself, that
which I declared before the Court of Peers: “I will not accept your
generosity, because I know what it costs.”
That the satisfaction of being a captive upon the soil of
France was not strictly derived from that patriotic view of
the fact to which pretension is here made, was afterwards
proved when, preferring to remain a captive upon her
» . 2 M




530 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
soil no longer than the éclat attending State captivity
continued, he escaped from France altogether.” -
An epistle written from Ham at an earlier period more
clearly defines the case. This “curious and beautiful
letter,” “this precious document,” as Guéronnière calls it,
was addressed to the Countess of Blessington, and con-
municated to the author of the “Portraits Politiques”
by Count d'Orsay. We print it entire, for since its first
publication it has become additionally curious. The
chief signification is, of course, political ; but it should
be read with this remembrance, that Count d'Orsay, who
was not only the “friend of the exile,” but a talented
and useful man, died placeless, penniless, and almost
friendless; and that he communicated this letter “to
convince me of the exalted sentiments of the nephew of
Napoleon.” - - -
- Ham, 13th Jan., 1841.
My LADY,-I have only this day received your letter, dated 1st of
January, because, being written in English, it was sent to the Ministry
at Paris that it might be read there. I am very sensible of your kind
remembrance of me, and it grieves me to think that no letters from you
previously have ever reached me. I received from Gore House but one
letter from Count d'Orsay, which I hastened to reply to when in the
Concièrgerie. I regret deeply that it was intercepted, for I therein
expressed all the gratitude I felt for the interest he took in my
misfortunes. I will not repeat to you all I have suffered. Your
poetic and noble heart will have anticipated all the cruelty of a
position where my defence is bounded by insurmountable barriers,
and my justification restrained by necessary reserve. In this case,
the only consolation for every calumny, and for the hardships of my
fate, is to feel at the bottom of my heart a voice which absolves me ;
to receive marks of sympathy from superior minds, which, like yours,
Madam, are separated from the common herd by the elevation of their
. ." In the preface to the “Analysis of the Sugar Question,” published
in 1842, the same sentiment is even more forcibly expressed. “I thank
Heaven if it has allowed me, even in captivity, to be useful to my country,
as I ever thank it for permitting me to remain on the soil of France,
object of all my love, and which I would not quit at any price—not even
for liberty.” º. -- ::.….: .





SENTIMENTS, 531
sentiments, by the independence of their character, and whose affections
, and opinions are not made subservient to the caprices of fortune or
the fatality of destiny. -r º . .
I have been some three months in the Castle of Ham, with General
Montholon and Dr. Conneau, but all external communication is for-
bidden. No one, as yet, has been able to obtain permission to see
me. One of these days I will send you a sketch of the citadel which
I copied from a little print: for you may imagine that I know nothing
of the fortress from the outside. I often think of the spot you inhabit,
and I recal with pleasure the moments passed in your amiable society,
which the Count d'Orsay rendered still more delightful by his witty
and natural gaiety. 3.
However, I have no wish to leave my present abode, for here I am
in my place. With the name I bear, I must have either the obscurity
of a dungeon, or the light of power. º
If you condescend, Madam, to write to me sometimes, and to give
me some details of London life, and of a country where I have been
too happy not to loveit, you will confer on me a great pleasure. &c., &c,
NAPOLEON-LOUIS.
Excepting that knowledge which intimate study alone
confers, the “sentiments” of a man are better seen,
perhaps, and better seen through, in his correspondence,
than by any other medium. Cautious men write as few
letters as possible; for, somehow, it is in the nature of a
letter to contradict pretence; and if any such thing be
attempted, it is invariably declared in the laboriousness
and care which is imposed by the attempt. It is no longer
a letter; its props and pretensions reveal themselves, and
with them is revealed the “reason why.” For these
considerations every letter of Napoleon has an interest and
special meaning. That above printed furnishes a key of
interpretation to his whole life and conduct, to his weak-
ness and strength, his failures and successes, to which
we shall afterwards advert ; others—varying in tone from
the bathos of what Macaulay terms “those trashy rants
which proceeded from the proconsuls of France,” up to
straightforward manliness and decision when policy and


532 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
sincerity needed no divorce—are equally important as evi-
dence of character, as tests of the amount and tendency of
his aims and scruples; while, in comparison with the past,
they stand as guarantees of the future. Here, however, we
have little space for discussion of so detailed a character
as these letters involve ; nor is it necessary, perhaps, so
to pile proof on proof. Once more, however, we must
quote the imperial language, with the circumstances that
evoked it. . *:::::::::::::::::::
About the period when the amnesty previously referred
to occupied political gossips, an article appeared in
the Progrès du Pas de Calais, on the “profession de foi
democratique de Prince Napoleon-Louis Bonaparte,”
noticing the fact that the Conseil Général of Corsica had
expressed an unanimous desire that the Bonaparte family
should be recalled from exile, and the grandson of
Josephine restored to the rights of a French citizen.
This article, in connexion with the letter of the Prince on
the subject previously given, and published in the same
journal, excited considerable attention, and was reprinted
in several newspapers. One of these, the Journal du
Loiret, took occasion to inquire (“et il fit bien”) by
what title and with what pretensions the young prince
was prepared to re-enter “the great French family?”. To
this inquiry he thus replied:
. Fortress of Ham, October 21st, 1843.
SIR,--I reply without hesitation to the friendly question which you
address me in your number of the 18th instant.
I have never believed, and I never can believe, that France is the
appanage of any man or of any family. I have never pretended to any
rights but those of a French citizen, and never shall have any other
desire than to see the whole people, legally convened, choosing freely
that form of government which they deem best. # * .
A member of a family which owes its elevation to the suffrages of the
nation, I should belie my origin, my nature, and, what is more, should
violate common-sense, if I did not admit the sovereignty of the people


SENTIMENTs. 533.
as the foundation of all political organisation. My past actions and
declarations accord with this opinion. If I have been misunderstood, it
is because the world does not explain defeats—it only condemns them.
I claimed, it is true, a foremost place—that is, to stand in the breach.
I had a high ambition, but one which might boldly be avowed: an
ambition to gather round my plebeian name all the friends of national
sovereignty, all those who longed for glory and liberty. If I have been
mistaken, is it for those of democratic opinions to blame me—is it
for France to punish me ! .
Believe, sir, that whatever the fate which the future may have in
store for me, it shall never be said that, in exile or in captivity, I have
“learned nothing and forgotten nothing.” Receive the assurance, &c.
NAPOLEoN-Louis BonAPARTE.
“Here,” said the Journal du Loiret on publishing this
letter, “is an evidence of the all-powerful force of the
democratic principle ! It is an example of high-minded-
ness that a man of royal blood, the heir to a throne, a
young, intelligent, and lofty Prince, popular for the name
he bears and for the glorious memories it recals, should
thus rid himself of monarchical prejudices, renounce the
privileges of his birth, and render Solemn homage to the
sovereignty of the people! We much congratulate the
Prince on the g ºus sentiments expressed in this letter.
They are those of a man of heart and exalted spirit.”
In turn, we congratulate this journal on its innocence;
and, leaving the reader to draw comparisons and abridge
his faith in princes, pass on, .
. . . . VI. x. *:::::::::::::::::::::::::::.
In study and contemplation five years wore over the
prisoner, but never wore away his hope—never abated
his confidence that these barren years would be followed
by seasons fruitful of good fortune, “’Years roll on with
disheartening monotony, . . . but the hope of a brighter
future never wholly abandons me.” At the expiration of
this term, however, circumstances arrived to divert the



534 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
cares of the Prince, without distracting his hopes of
Towards the close of the year 1845, the Comte de St.
Leu, now arrived at the verge, begged permission to bid
his son farewell ere he absolutely entered upon the
Valley of the Shadow of Death. The Prince, apprised of
this, joined his father in appealing to the clemency of the
French Government ; and, in a letter to the Minister of
the Interior, pledged his honour, if he were allowed to go
to Florence, where the Comte de St. Leu resided, to return
and place himself at the disposal of the Government
whenever he should be desired to do so. The Ministry
declared itself incompetent to entertain this request, on
the ground that its consideration, in the prerogative of
mercy, belonged to the King alone. Louis Napoleon
then addressed himself to Louis Philippe in a letter
modest and dignified, and in no sense unworthy of a
prince. I lusion, “Your Majesty will, I am con-
vinced, appreciate a step which, beforehand, engages my
gratitude, and, moved at the solitary condition in a
strange land of one who, upon a throne, gained the
esteem of Europe, will accede to the wishes of my father
and of myself.” ºf . . . . . . . - º
It cannot be a matter of surprise, however, that such
a request should be shily met, if even the circumstances
of his return from America, in performance of a similar
duty, furnished no precedents of insincerity. Not only,
however, was the petition of the Prince favourably con-
sidered, but there is much reason to believe that the
French Government sought means in the occasion to rid
itself handsomely of one whose offence savoured more of
madness than of treason. This intention oozes out in
the draft of a letter which was submitted for the signa-
ture of Louis Napoleon, as the only guarantee upon which
he could be released. The chief clauses seem to have






SENTIMENTS, 535,
been, a renunciation of all pretension to the throne, a
penitential acknowledgment of his offence, and a promise
not to interfere with the succession to the crown, .
This proposition, offered through M. Odillon Barrot,
was rejected in such a manner as the world is always
prepared to applaud—consistently, firmly, and modestly ;
and, indeed, the entire correspondence of Louis Napoleon
on this subject presents his character at a more favour-
able point of view than any other along the full course of
his career. In replying to M. Odillon Barrot he says,
“I will now tell you why I do not consider it my duty
to sign the letter of which you have sent me a draft.
The brave man who finds himself face to face with
adversity, alone in the presence of enemies interested in
disgracing him, ought to avoid all subterfuge, all equivo-
cation, and to proceed with the greatest clearness and
precision. Like Caesar's wife, he ought not to be sus-
pected. If I signed the letter, as you and many other
deputies would induce me to do, I should, in fact, ask for
pardon without daring openly to avow the petition, I
should take shelter behind the request of my father, like
the coward who covers himself with a tree to escape the
enemy's shot. I consider such a course unworthy of me.
If I thought it honourable and becoming simply to
invoke the royal elemency, I should write thus to the
King: “Sire, I ask pardon.' Such, however, is not my
intention. . . . I should not have sought to disturb the
calm of my conscience or the repose of my life, had not
my father signified an earnest desire of having me near
him again in his declining days. My filial duty roused
me from resignation. . . . I wrote to the head of the
State—to him who alone had the legal right to alter my
position. I asked to be allowed to visit my father, and
spoke to the King of favours, humanity, gratitude,
because I am not afraid of calling things by their right.

536 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
names. The King appeared to be satisfied with my
letter, and said to the worthy son of Marshal Ney, who
was good enough to charge himself with its delivery, that
the guarantee which I offered was sufficient; but he has
not yet made known his decision. His Ministers, on the
contrary, have transmitted to me an answer which is
merely an insult to misfortune. . .
“Under the blow of such a refusal, and still unac-
quainted with the decision of the King, my duty is to
abstain from all proceedings, and, above all, not to sub-
scribe a request for pardon under the disguise of filial
piety. I still maintain all that I said in my letter to
the King, because the sentiments I there expressed were
deeply felt, and were such as app l to me becoming,
But I will not advance a line further. The path of honour
is narrow and slippery, and there is but a handbreadth
between the firm ground and the abyss.” º
- But even here the “sentiments” of the Prince must not
be too closely timised, or t pulously compared
with the facts to which they belong, however much to be
approved the consistency of the decision they are evoked
to support.
These negotiations ultimately fell dead. The French
Government, unwilling to release its prisoner except
upon such conditions as would paralyse the uses of liberty
to such a man, and render his return a matter of small
political moment either to himself or others, refused the
request ; excusing th lves in the disturbed condition
of Switzerland and Italy. But while they refused to
liberate him, they took no extra measure of precaution
to meet the determination which would most probably
follow upon that refusal. To seize what could not be
given, to endeavour to win by fair stratagem what he could
not effect by honourable treaty, was, of course, the natural
alternative ; and thus it was won, on the 25th of May,




EscAPE FROM HAM. 537
1846, three months after the decision of the Government
was communicated to the Prince by M. Barrot. The
details of this adventure Louis Napoleon himself com-
municated to M. Degeorge, at this time editor of the
Journal de la Somme. . .
“My desire to see my father once more in this world
made me attempt the boldest enterprise I ever engaged
in. It required more resolution and courage on my part
than at Strasbourg and Boulogne, for I was determined
not to submit to the ridicule that attaches to those who
are arrested escaping in disguise, and a failure I could
not have endured. The following are the particulars of
my escape. - . -- - - - --> sº
“You know that the fort was garrisoned by four hundred
men, who furnished daily sixty soldiers, placed as sentries
outside the walls. Moreover, the principal gate of the
prison was guarded by three jailers, two of whom were
constantly on duty. It was necessary that I should first
elude their vigilance, afterwards traverse the inner court
before the windows of the commandant's residence; and,
arriving there, I should be obliged to pass through a gate
guarded by soldiers. :
“Not wishing to make known my design to anyone, it
was necessary to disguse myself. As several rooms in
the part of the building I occupied were undergoing
repairs, it was not difficult to assume the dress of a work-
man. My good and faithful valet, Charles Thélin, pro-
cured a blouse and a pair of sabots; and, after shaving
off my moustaches, I took a plank upon my shoulders.
“On Monday morning [25th May, 1846], at half-past
eight o'clock, I saw the workmen enter. Charles took them
some drink, in order that I might not meet any of them on
my passage. He was also to call one of the jailers, while Dr.
Conneau conversed with the others. Nevertheless, I had
scarcely left my room before I was accosted by a workman

538 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
who took me for one of his fellows, and at the bottom of the
stairs I found myself face to face with the keeper. Fortu-
mately, I placed the plank I was carrying before my face,
and succeeded in reaching the yard. Whenever I passed a
sentinel or any other person I always kept the plank before
my face. - . .
“Passing before the first sentinel, I let my pipe fall, and
stopped to pick up the pieces. Here I met the officer on
duty; but as he was reading a letter, he paid no attention
to me. The soldiers at the guard-house appeared surprised
at my dress, and a drummer turned round several times
to look at me. I next met some workmen, who looked
very attentively at me. I placed the plank before my
face, but they appeared to be so curious that I thought I
should never escape them, until I heard them. cry, “Oh, it
is Bernard " ‘.... º.º.º. º
“Once outside, I walked quickly towards the road of St.
Quentin. Charles, who the day before had engaged a car-
riage, shortly overtook me, and we arrived at St. Quentin.
I passed through the town on foot, having thrown off my
blouse. Charles procured a post-chaise under pretence of
going to Cambrai. We arrived without detention of
any kind at Valenciennes, where I took the railway. I
had procured a Belgian passport, but it was nowhere
demanded. *... . . . . . . . .
“During my escape, Dr. Conneau, always so devoted to
me, remained in prison, and caused them to believe that I
was ill, in order to give me time to reach the frontier. It
was necessary to be convinced that the Government would
never set meat liberty before I could be persuaded to quit
France, and I would not consent to dishonour myself. It
was also a matter of duty that I should exert all my
powers to be able to console my father in his old age.
“Adieu, my dear M. Degeorge. Although free, I
feel myself to be most unhappy. Receive the assurance



ESCAPE FROM HAM. 539
of my sincere friendship, and endeavour to be useful to
my kind Conneau, if you can.” - -
The other chapters of the story were frankly supplied
by Dr. Conneau, in his examination before the Correctional
Tribunal at Peronne, and amount to the highest eulogium
on the Doctor's character. He had been condemned to
five years' imprisonment; and though this term was now
expired, he did not hesitate to throw himself again into
the hands of the law, not only by assisting in the Prince's
escape, but by so recklessly covering it, as it were, with his
own liberty, as to reserve no difficulty in conviction and
no delay in punishment. So much disinterestedness and
ingenuity is not often offered to our applause, as will
presently appear.
Assured that the Prince had passed the walls, Dr. Con-
neau endeavoured to conceal his departure, in order to
protract his chance of escape. To gain at least twenty-
four hours was the Doctor's object ; and first of all, he
says (we use nearly his own words), he closed the door lead-
ing from the Prince's chamber to the Saloon, and kindled
a good fire, though the weather was extremely hot, to
countenance the supposition that the Prince was ill. With
the same purpose, he placed a coffee-pot on the fire, and
remarked to the man-of-all-work that the Prince was indis-
posed. About eight o'clock, some violet-plants arrived by
diligence. Dr. Conneau told the prison-keeper to fill some
garden-pots with earth, but did not allow him to enter the
saloon. About half an hour after, the man-of-all-work
came to inquire where breakfast should be laid. “In my
room,” answered the Doctor. “Then I shall bring the
large table.” But the Doctor objected that it was
unnecessary, as the General was ill and would not break-
fast with them. * . º
In this manner, and by a succession of little manoeuvres,
Dr. Conneau hoped to preserve the secret of the Prince's


540 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
absence till the next day. It had been mentioned that he
had taken medicine; and as it was absolutely necessary
that it should be taken, the obliging Dr. Conneau took
it himself. He even tried to produce the consequences
of an emetic ; but failing in this, he mingled some
coffee and bread-crumbs in a pot of water, and added
nitric acid; which exciting a very disagreeable effluvium,
persuaded the man-servant that the Prince was really
ill. Every time the Doctor came out of the chamber
where Louis Napoleon was supposed to be stretched on a
sofa, he made some remark, or pretended to conclude a
conversation. & ºš.
These shifts wore the day away very satisfactorily ; but
when, about seven o’clock, the Commandant paid a third
visit to the apartments of the Prince, the countenance
of that officer wore an ominous sternness. “The Prince
is a little better, Commandant,” remarked Dr. Conneau.
“If he were still ill, I must speak with him : Imust speak
with the Prince.” Dr. Conneau had prepared a large
stuffed figure to represent the imperial invalid, and laid
it on the bed in his chamber, into which the Com-
mandant could catch a glimpse through the open door.
Addressing this figure, he called upon it to awake; but
“naturally enough,” says the Doctor, “it made no reply.”
He then returned to the officer, signifying that the Prince
was fast asleep; but this did not satisfy him. He sat
down, remarking that the Prince would not sleep for
ever, and that he would wait. He also expressed his
surprise that the diligence had passed without bringing
Thélin, Louis Napoleon's valet. Dr. Conneau explained
that Thélin had hired a cabriolet. .
The drum beat ; and the Commandant rose and said,
“The Prince has moved in his bed : he is waking up.”
The Commandant listened eagerly, but did not hear him
breathe, Dr. Conneau listened also, and said, “Let him



ESCAPE FROM HAM, -- 541
sleep.” But the patience and the politeness of the
officer exhaled together. He approached the bed, and
discovered the deceit. Turning upon Dr. Conneau,
whose part was now played out, he exclaimed, “The
Prince has escaped At what hour !” “At seven in
the morning.” “Who were on guard 7" “I know
nothing!” No more was said, the Commandant imme-
diately quitting the room. . g
So virtually ended this adventure. Dr. Conneau, whose
schemes involved his own arrest, was sentenced to three
months' imprisonment, Thélin to six months. The Com-
mandant was also arrested, but upon trial acquitted.
London again received an imperial refugee. Immedi-
ately upon his arrival, Louis Napoleon wrote to the French
Ambassador to assure him of his peaceable intentions—
explaining that in escaping from confinement he had not
been actuated by any design of renewing his attempts
against the French Government, but solely from the
desire of ministering at the death-bed of his father. He
also addressed letters to Sir Robert Peel (then Prime
Minister), and to the Foreign Secretary, Lord Aberdeen,
who intimated in reply that the Prince was quite at
liberty to reside in England. Residence in England, how-
ever, was, at best, but a secondary object ; and the more
important one was defeated. The Austrian Ambassador
at London, Count Dietrichstein, refused to sign his pass-
port to the Italian States; and the Comte de St. Leu
died in July of the same year, uncheered by the presence
of his son. The ingenuity which found means to escape
from a garrisoned prison to liberty, and the boldness
which carried those means into effect, failed either to
discover or to pursue a path through a free country to
the blessings of a father's death-bed. º


542 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
VII.
We now close upon one epoch of an extraordinary
career, to enter upon another so contradictory to it in all
its aspects as to compel one to look back with wonder
and onward with misgiving, . :
A history such as the present is usually the develop-
ment of personal qualities identical in their nature and
similar in their effects—a hill on which to ascend, for
instance, from those snow-forts at the foot which the
great Napoleon is said to have reduced in his boyhood, to
Toulon, Italy, and Egypt, till all Europe is spread out as
a camp, as a field wherein we may view him exercise
the talent to fight. A progressive story like that it is
easy to pursue, either upon the broad path which all the
blind may tread, or into the tortuous byeways which a
half-open eye detects lurking into it and out of it. Such
a career has its necessities, and they are not hard to calcu-
late. But it is another thing when adventures like those
of Strasbourg and Boulogne are precedent to empire—to
an empire so thorough, and so thoroughly held in hand,
that the Prisoner of Ham has good title to call himself
Napoleon the Third. .
The confusion which these definite and closely-contrasted
eras of his life—past and present—impose upon the mind,
is something more than curious, for it will be found, we
believe, as long as it shall exist, so effectually to subserve
the power of the Emperor in France as to render that
power politically omnipotent. He appeared rash, absurd
and impotent ; he appears cool, calculating and Sagacious,
with all the power and more than the disposition to hold
whatever he may deem to be his own; and so decisive
are the evidences on either hand, that the many who are
convinced of the absurdity of Boulogne find it impossible
to doubt the shrewd dexterity and foresight of the coup



THE REASON WHY. 543
d'état. Even on the eve of that event, men of the State
—not unblinded, perhaps, by ambition and self-impor-
tance—believed him to be little wiser than a fool, nor
more to be regarded than as an obstinate Bonaparte who
once invaded Boulogne and now would be an emperor.
Surprise overtook judgment here, and disarmed it ; a help-
less “What next ſº succeeded in the public mind, and to
this day remains. No course, however despicable and
disastrous—no course, however skilful and successful—
would now excite surprise. Sagacity may be sagacity, or
folly may be folly, or sagacity may be folly, or folly
Sagacity; or sagacity and folly may lie down together in
perfect compatibility, as the lion shall one day lie down
with the lamb : the secret is still in the Emperor's keep-
ing. After an existence of twenty years passed full in
the ken of Europe, an existence distinctly marked at every
foot-fall, and every print of which, impressed by Pretender,
Prisoner, President, and Emperor, is only too legible—
he is still an unknown man. Journalists pronounce him
inscrutable. The incompatibilities both of his character
and career have shrouded him in doubts which the world
can by no means make up its mind from. There is no
Emperor but the Emperor, and he has no prophet.
The effects of all this—the value to Louis Napoleon of
the stupefaction, the vague indecision, the strained and
monster-conceiving expectation which this uncertainty
concerning the character of its ruler imposes upon France,
it is unnecessary to dwell upon. An army could not
better serve him ; for an army could not produce upon
the mass of opinion anything so paralytic, º
So having arrived at that portion of the history
whence contradiction dates, it were well, perhaps, now to
return upon the ground we have passed, and endeavour
so far to be sure of the man, rather than have to recur to
it again and again, as new points of inconsistency break




544 . LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
out in the following pages. The bare details and adven-
tures which brought upon him, with all apparent reason,
the contempt of Europe, we have passed; the motives
and impulses, the idea by which these adventures were
governed, we have not digested; and it may be important,
on more accounts than one, if in these we find means to
reconcile all points of his career, and merge in one the
incompatibility of his character. x .
Motives are, of course, to be accounted properly by him
only in whose mind they originate ; the only doubt being
how often such an account can be honestly rendered.
First, as to the insurrection of Strasbourg, the letter
written to Hortense by her son, from which we adopted
the particulars of that undertaking, explains also the
motives, or rather impulses, which urged him to it; and
this explanation, we conceive, evinces nothing so remark-
able or nearly so suggestive as its extreme candour. La
Guéronnière, panegyrist, has also expounded the riddle
of motive, and, like a Frenchman, has dipped his pen too
deep in the attempt. He says, speaking of the situation
of the dynasty of July at this time, “Public feeling sup-
ported it no longer. The various parties contended with
each other; factions were conspiring; assassins were pre-
paring, in the gloom of their ferocious vengeance, those
infernal machines which were to send forth their slaughter
amidst parades and official ceremonies. Alibaud had just
succeeded Fieschi in the abominable family of regicides.
It was one of those periods,” et cetera. “The nephew of
the Emperor observed with attentive anxiety the various
appearances of the situation of things. He felt the pulse
of public opinion; he listened eagerly to catch every
rumour that was wafted to him on the winds of his
country. He endeavoured to communicate with men
eminent by their talents. He sought a secret intelligence
with the army. . . . In short, he prepared himself for

THE REASON WHY. 545
the part he believed himself called upon by Fate to play,
only waiting for circumstances to fix the hour for the
accomplishment of his destinies.” -
All-excellent premises are these, and quite what might
be presupposed in such a case; but the consistency of
advancing them in the van of contradictory conclusions
does not clearly appear. Louis Napoleon may have exer-
cised all the observation, and instituted all the precaution,
here imputed to him ; it is certain, however, that his
results were arrived at quite independently of either. If
he did indeed watch with attentive anxiety the symp-
toms of the times, if he did indeed feel the pulse of
popular opinion, and listen eagerly to every rumour, he
read their lessons ill; and as for waiting for circumstances
to fix the hour for the accomplishment of his destinies,
above all things that is what he did not. It is useful to
notice with what placidity the most poetical irrelevancies
and insanities go current and unquestioned in modern
French literature, especially the extreme political. Years
before, Louis Napoleon had made that candid statement
of his motives in the Strasbourg undertaking of which
we have spoken, and therein led no one to infer the
existence of that elaborated self-preparation of which his
panegyrist so confidently assures us. The Prince himself
was aware of no more than this: that, “strong in the
convictions which brought me to regard the cause of Na-
poleonism as the only national one in France, and the
only civilising agency in Europe, proud of the nobility
and purity of my intentions, I resolved to elevate the
imperial eagle once again, or to fall the victim of my po-
litical faith. . . . I may be asked what induced me to
abandon a happy existence to run all the risks of an enter-
prise so hazardous ! I reply, A secret voice led me on ; and
for no earthly consideration would I have delayed an at-
tempt which seemed to offer so many chances of success.”
- -- 2 N


546 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Whatever caution or calculation, then, whatever of the
cunning of statesmanship in this matter his friends may
insist upon and expound, Louis Napoleon pretended to
none. Napoleonism and a secret voice, he avows—a
phantom and an echo, seen and known of himself alone—
supplied all motive; and faith in them saw consequences
without calculation. Guéronnière himself, in another
place, adopts this view, and enlarges upon it so satis-
factorily as to leave one nothing to say. “In pene-
trating the motives which urged on Louis Napoleon
to anticipate, as it were, his destiny, I meet with two
which it is necessary to specify. He was convinced, in
the first place, that Bonapartism existed in France in
a latent state, and that a spark would be sufficient to
cause an explosion. He thought, besides, that his birth
and his name did not permit him to remain in a re-
signed and indolent exile; and he conceived that he
had but to choose (as he wrote) between ‘the obscurity
of a dungeon and the light of power.” . . . He imagined
sincerely that he had but to show himself on the fron-
tiers to raise up and lead the whole of France. He
calculated on a second return from Elba; he could not
dream for a moment that the army would hesitate between
its sworn fidelity and its glorious reminiscences.”
That is as much as need be said ; less would have been
enough to have explained what Louis Napoleon's resources
and expectations were not. Cased in natural mail against
opprobrium, quilted in self-confidence against the shafts
of ridicule, he claims the guidance of reason, or observa-
tion, or inference not at all—barely recognises the neces-
sity of a patriotic purpose even. For writing from New
York six months after the “defeat” at Strasbourg, he
remarks, “I had, it is true, two lines of conduct to
follow—one in some sort depending on myself, the other
on events. In choosing the first, I became, as you truly


THE REASON, WHY. . 547
say, a means; in waiting for the other, I should have
been only a resource. According to my ideas and con-
victions, the first rôle appeared preferable to the second.
The success of my enterprise offered these advantages:
I should accomplish, by a coup de main, and in one day,
the work of ten years, perhaps, and spare France the con-
flicts, troubles, and disorders of an outburst which must,
T believe, sooner or later occur.” .
This concluding sentence has, indeed, been quoted not
only as patriotic, but prophetic ; and so in fact it is, with
this abatement, that for fifty years past revolution has
afforded as hazardless a subject for prophecy as the spring
crops; but for the patriotism, since it has been so often
practically asserted, even by the most selfish demagogues,
that devotion to a huge public object is necessary to gain
the popular will, we can only thank his frankness that
the political object of the Prince should here be quoted
in connexion with a “besides” and as an attendant advan-
tage to his enterprise. Patriotism is secondary in the
matter, which is treated as purely personal—as a question
involving some dim portent called Napoleonism, and not
as involving France. To save his country from the
troubles and disorders of an impending national boule-
versement is well; but, above all things, let a Bonaparte
fill the dignified rôle. * r
If, however, the invader of Boulogne claims neither
reason, nor observation, nor inference to absolve his at-
tempt, what is it that he does claim! What had his
five-and-twenty years of experience discovered so much
greater than these, which have been the guides of the
wisest for more than five-and-twenty centuries What
so much more powerful than these are usually found to
be, in chaining faith and conquering the will! Experience
has nothing to do with it; it has no connexion with
experience, we have seen. It is an inheritance. Men
548 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
inherit diseases, often the most virulent if in the parent
they were gentle and in the germ. This is an inheritance:
of inspiration, says Louis Napoleon. It is the inspiration
of a principle, or rather of an idea, which is “the
only civilising cause in Europe,” which “rests its
system on the principles of eternal justice,” “disciplines
democracy,” “levels mountains, crosses seas,” “obliges all
nations to be at peace;” of an idea “which has burst from
the tomb of St. Helena as the moral of the Evangelium
has risen triumphantly, spite of all the torments of
Calvary—which, springing out of the French revolution
with a helmet on its head, . . . fell to rise again, imi-
tating the Divine example !” When Guéronnière says of
the Prince that he imagined sincerely that he had only to
present himself at the frontiers to raise up and lead the
whole of France—that he calculated on a second return
from Elba—his apologist reveals the tendency and possible
results of such an idea; when, presupposing the question,
What forced you to abandon a life of happiness to en-
counter the risks of so hazardous an enterprise, Louis
Napoleon has no other answer (apparently needs no better
one) than that he was so urged on by a “secret voice”
that “for no earthly consideration would I have post-
poned the attempt,” he bravely asserts his subjugation to
that idea—and the subjugation to it of every other.
What the “Idée Napoléonienne” is to the world or to
France particularly, the world and France particularly
have now some chance of knowing by demonstration; what
it is in abstraction, what constitutes it, not, indeed, the only
civilising cause in Europe, but any civilising cause at all,
or, better, what it is at all, the carefullest inquiry has not
shown. Louis Napoleon has written many pages about
it, but not “with a man's pen,” not with an intelligible
man's pen. From them we gather nothing: though a
* “I’Idée Napoléonienne.” by Louis-Napoleon Bonaparte.


THE REASON WHY. 549
Scotch reviewer, more fortunate, states that he succeeded
in precipitating from the confusion of words with which
they are filled “a little brass eagle.” What it is to
Louis Napoleon, however, is the same thing, since the
power of enforcing it is now in his hands; and it is plain
enough that to him the Napoleonic idea is a serious and
huge reality. Recal that declaration that it is based on
the principles of eternal justice, crosses seas, levels moun-
tains, and compels all nations to be at peace; that it is
strangely allied to the Evangelium, was crucified like the
Crucified, and has burst from the tomb of St. Helena as
the Divine Example “rose again from the dead!” If the
reader trembles as he reads here what the writer dreadfully
transcribes, he must nevertheless believe in the earnestness
and perfect faith in which the declaration is made; nor
should he forget, for considerations elsewhere set forth,
that it is made in the most blasphemous nation whose
language now remains known, and that such a ruler is so
wonderfully given to such a people, Nor is this the only
instance in which comparison is broadly drawn between
Christianity and Napoleonism, while everywhere it is
held superior to human law, to oaths and the honour of
men: “He could not dream for an instant,” says the
painter of a portrait which the Emperor acknowledges,
“he could not dream for an instant that the army would
hesitate between its sworn fidelity and its glorious remi-
miscences.” ... -- .
So much is advanced to show how high, how paramount
a thing is this Napoleonic idea in the eyes of Louis-
Napoleon — paramount over law, paramount over mo-
rality; because, as he in effect tells us, a source of both.
Then remember that the great clauses of this creed were
ever unfailing faith in the restoration of the Bonaparte
dynasty, and his own destiny to represent it ; remember
also that the fires of youth burn not without smoke; and

550 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
the nature of that “secret voice” which for no earthly
consideration could be withstood is made plain, and its
results, the insurrection of Strasbourg and the invasion
of Boulogne, become the most natural things in the
world. .”
In the latter attempt lies reflective proof. Planned by
means so utterly hopeless and ridiculous, and in the teeth
of such warning experience as his former and not irrational
attempt should not and could not fail to bring, the Boulogne
expedition of itself proves, we conceive, the existence of
some influence stronger than personal ambition ; and the
existence of so over-riding a power as the “secret voice”
accounts for the unaccountable absurdity of that expedi-
tion. Each proves the other. “With the name I bear”—
with the burden of this destiny lying upon my heart, and
its voice calling for ever upon my spirit, with the over-
powering convictions I entertain—“I must either be in
the brightness of power or the obscurity of a dungeon.”
It is a necessity of fanaticism, which almost all fana-
ticism has proved—which Mahomet as well as Louis
Napoleon might have experienced ; and as easy to be
understood, we think, as the necessity of the extreme
poles. &
Thus we have endeavoured to comprehend the one dis-
tinct and apparently contradictory epoch in the Prince's
character and career; and by keeping in sight the con-
clusions we have come to, by keeping in view what he
has ever kept in view, not only the history which
remains here to write, but history that cannot yet be
written, may lose much of that problematical seeming
which so admirably cloaks the figure of Napoleon the
Third.
VIII.
The guilt, the drunkenness of too much blood lies upon
Liberty in France ; it does not thrive or grow strong
REVOLUTION OF FEBRUARY. 551
there. Rising up from generations of abasement and op-
pression, she lay too willingly and too long in the kennels,
drinking with indiscriminative greed not only the blood
of those who oppressed her, but of many who did not
and could not ; all the while blaspheming God with
reeking lips—in those days of Terror. The dignity and
strength that then she lost has never been regained. It
would really seem as if retribution had been adjudged to
fall upon that bloody Liberty, since she has in turn so
often to bleed and fall—deceived, abused, betrayed, in-
sulted ; so that whether stability ever shall befal her is
doubtful still. . .
Seventeen years had Louis Philippe and tranquillity
reigned not in but over France, when again was seen the
Ominous spectacle of a people contending against its
rulers. The foreign policy of the Government had be-
come so obnoxious to the country that an impeachment
for having betrayed the honour and interests of France
was actually proposed; but a more formidable cause of
discontent existed in the corruption of the public offices
and in electoral abuses.* A numerous and popular Oppo-
sition made demands for Reform similar in effect to those
which shook the less excitable English people years be-
fore ; but, versed as he was in all the examples of revo-
lutionary history, these demands were steadily refused by
the implacable Guizot. Reform agitation and Reform
banquets were the consequence. At these latter the
health of the King was significantly omitted in the
toasts; and they were made occasion for speeches of so
decided and inflammatory a character that the Govern-
ment determined to suppress them. Concession alone
* Early in May, 1847, the Procureur-General instituted legal pro-
ceedings against M. Teste, ex-Minister of Public Works and President of
the Court of Cassation, General Cabières, ex-Minister of War, and M.
Parmentier, director-in-chief of a salt-mine company, for the sale and
purchase of Government influence.
552 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
could properly have effected this object ; the Government
proposed to effect it by a decree. But so sensible were
they of the risk of opposing themselves so decidedly to a
movement not less legal than universal, that before they
dared to issue this decree a hundred thousand soldiers
were concentrated round Paris, the forts stored with
ammunition, and every disposition made to meet a
popular outbreak. . - .
But all to no avail. Tuesday, the 22nd of February,
1848, having been appointed by members of the Oppo-
sition for the celebration of a grand Reform banquet in
Paris, on the preceding evening a proclamation was
issued by the Prefect of Police forbidding it. The Re-
formers succumbed. Notices were issued postponing the
banquet; and a Revolution was celebrated instead. Bar-
ricades were thrown up, the National Guard, fraternising
with the people, decided the event as a question of force,
and in three days the King had fled and France was a
Republic. A Provisional Government was established
on the 23rd, and the new order of government formally
declared in the Place de la Bastille on the 27th of
February. --> - º,
To the Bonaparte family these events were, of course,
of the utmost importance. Their proscription was now
virtually abrogated, and several members of the family
returned immediately to Paris to do homage to the Re-
public. Of these Louis Napoleon was not the last nor
the least loyal. On the 28th he addressed a very patriotic
letter to the Provisional Government, announcing his
return from exile, “to range myself under the flag of the
republic you have just proclaimed. Without any ambi-
tion but that of serving my country, I come to announce
my arrival to the members of the Provisional Govern-
ment, and to assure them of my devotion to the cause
they represent, and of my personal sympathy.”

THE NEW REPUBLIC, 553
But upon these protestations the Government looked
with suspicion. Fearful that his presence in Paris would
disturb the elections, by representations more or less
urgent they persuaded the Prince to quit France—at least,
until the constitution had been voted and the law esta-
blished. Nor was this all : justifiably or not, their pre-
cautions did not end here. It was proposed in the
Assembly a few weeks after the elections to exclude Louis
Napoleon alone, of all the family of the Emperor, from
the rights of citizenship. Thus pointedly singled out, the
Prince lost no time in addressing the following protest to
the members of the National Assembly—sufficiently re-
markable as the first of that train of documents by
which, from time to time, he imposed upon too many of
his political opponents the belief that self-abnegation was
his rule in life, and republicanism its end.
London, 23rd May, 1848.
CITIZEN REPRESENTATIVES,--I learn by the newspapers of the 22nd
instant that it has been proposed in the bureaux of the Assembly to retain
against me alone the law of exile which has been in force against my
family since 1816; I now demand of the representatives of the people
wherefore I have merited this penalty. Can it be for having always
. publicly declared my opinion that France was not the appanage either of
an individual, or a family, or a party? Can it be because, desiring to
effect the triumph, without anarchy or licence, of the principles of national
sovereignty which alone can put an end to our dissensions, I have been
twice the victim of my hostility to the Government you have over-
thrown Can it be for having consented, in deference of the Provisional
Government, to return to a strange land, after having hastened to
Paris upon the first rumour of the revolution ? Can it be, to conclude,
because I disinterestedly refused to become a candidate for the Assembly
whenever it was proposed to me—resolved not to return to France till
the new constitution should be established and the Republic consolidated
The same reasons which made me take up arms against the Govern-
ment of Louis Philippe would lead me, if my services were demanded,
to devote myself to the defence of the Assembly, the result of universal
suffrage. In presence of a king elected by two hundred deputies, I
should have remembered that I was heir to an Empire founded by the


554 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
consent of four millions of Frenchmen . In the presence of the national
sovereignty, I cannot nor will I claim more than my right as a free
citizen; but those I will unceasingly demand, with that energy which
a man of honest heart derives from the feeling of never having done
anything to merit ill of his country. Receive, &c., * ...
. Your fellow-citizen, ...::::::::::::
. . NAPOLEoN-LOUIS BonAPARTE.
The Deputies, refused to listen to this communication
though letters from two princes of the Orleans family,
their more recent enemy, had previously enjoyed the in-
dulgence of the Chamber. . g
IMeanwhile, however, constituted from the more brilliant
memories of the Empire—memories of devastation and
blood gloriously carried to the hearths of other lands, but
none of the miseries heaped round those of France, even
before in the streets of its capital were lit the fires of a
Cossack camp—an under-current of opinion now flowed
manifest, and soon floated the nephew of the Emperor
into a position beyond the reach of the Assembly. Bona-
partism had long been the cherished creed of large masses
of the people; it is a creed well engrafted upon the
popular character, which could take no graft, perhaps—
certainly no bud from the “tree of liberty”—so kindly;
for early in June following the Revolution of February,
when the republic yet rocked in its cradle, with all its
graces round about it, unmistakeable evidences of the
popular predilection blazed out. Unsolicited, and though
in more than one instance he declined to be nominated
at the previous elections, Louis Napoleon was chosen
by very large majorities to represent the several depart-
ments of the Seine (Paris), the Yonne, and Charente
Inférieure. : . tº
But, significant enough as they were from the im-
portance and number of the departments ambitious to
be represented by the Prince, the fact of these elections
was less significant than their manner. In each case the
RESUSCITATION OF BONAPARTISM. 555
proceedings v impanied by demonstrations not only
of electoral, but of insurrectionary zeal. Cries of “Vive
l'Empéreur ! a bas la République " resounded at the
polling-places; while in some of the rural districts the
electors actually inscribed these sentiments upon their
polling-papers, and bore them in front of their hats. A
cleverly-written newspaper of avowedly Bonapartist views,
the Napoléonien, was issued, and followed within a week by
five or six others with such significant titles as Le Pétit,
Caporal, Le Bonapartiste, Wapoléon Républicain, La Con-
stitution Bonapartienne, La Redingote Grise, &c.; though
these latter appeared after the Assembly had been coerced
into acknowledging the right of Louis Napoleon to take
his seat as a deputy. -
On Monday the 12th of June, as early as twelve o'clock,
crowds collected in all the approaches to the National
Assembly, expecting that Louis Napoleon would that
evening take his seat. The générale and the rappel were
beaten, troops of the line and the National Guard were
called out, and all the symptoms of disorder as it is in
Paris threatened to break forth. The Government, warned
by the throngs which for several evenings past had brawled
upon the Boulevards, were not unprepared for an event of
this kind. A decree against attrouſ S had been passed,
by virtue of which, on the Saturday evening previous,
several hundred people were swept off to the Prefecture in
a razzia made upon the crowds there assembled. Paris
and the surrounding villages were occupied by troops,
cavalry and infantry; while the fort and castle of
Vincennes were crowded with artillery, ammunition, and
soldiers of the line. These devices, however, were insuffi-
cient to deter the people from mobbing the very walls of
the senate ; and although it was repeatedly proclaimed
by the friends of the Prince that he was not in Paris,
they showed no disposition to disperse, but, broken into



556 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
groups, vehemently debated the admission of the new
deputy to the Assembly. .
At length the Government determined to oppose strong
measures against the mob. A large force, comprised of
troops of the line, National Guards, and the Garde
IMobile, with several pieces of artillery, were already
stationed round the Chamber; and about five o'clock,
regiments of cavalry and infantry crossed the bridge
opposite the Palace of the Assembly, formed a junction.
with the National Guards already on the Place de la
Bévolution, and in five minut ept off the huge assem-
blage that occupied it at the point of the bayonet.
Having cleared the Place, a troop of dragoons advanced
upon the Rue Royal towards the Boulevards, driving the
people before them, while a large body of the Gardes
Mobiles, beating the pas de charge, moved rapidly along
the rues de Rivoli, Castiglione, and la Paix to the same
point. A few shots were fired, but the people offered no
resistance, shouting, however, as they ran, “Vive l'Em-
péreur ! Vive Louis Napoléon P with great determina-
tion and vigour. ‘. . . . . . . ::::::::::::::::::::
Neanwhile, the Chamber held it l sitting, which,
though opened by some remarks by Jerome Bonaparte
affirming that the name of his nephew had been unwar-
rantably traded on by rebellious men, passed quietly into
the discussion of the expenses of the Executive Govern-
ment. But towards evening news was brought to the
Chamber that the soldiers were charging the people in all
directions, the effect of which was t pend the sitting
for a time. It was virtually re-opened by M. de Lamar-
tine, who, rushing into the tribune, cried, “Blood has
been shed, shots have been fired here at hand, and the
cry is raised, ‘Vive l'Empéreur Napoléon | A law should
at once be passed to put a stop to this ſ” The proposition
was met by acclamation; and M. de Lamartine then read

THE TROUBLEs of JUNE. 557
the following decree, which had been providently prepared
beforehand by the Cabinet.
“The Executive Committee— . .
“Looking at Article 4 of the law of June 12, 1816;
Considering that Louis Napoleon Bonaparte is com-
prised in the law of 1832, which banishes the family of
Napoleon: That if that law has been departed from by
the vote of the National Assembly in favour of three
members of that family, who were admitted to take their
seats as representatives of the people, such departure from
the law is quite personal, and by no means applies to the
said Louis Napoleon Bonaparte: That Louis Napoleon
Bonaparte has twice come forward as a pretender, and
that his pretensions might compromise the republic : That
the Government cannot accept the responsibility of such
acts, and that it would fail in the first of its duties if it
did not take measures to prevent the recurrence of them;
“Declares that it will cause the law of 1832 to be
executed against Louis Napoleon Bonaparte until such
time as the National Assembly shall decree otherwise.”
M.M. Pierre and Napoleon Bonaparte exclaimed against
the “connexion which appeared to be made between the
crime and the name of their relative;” the latter exclaim-
ing in the course of his argument, “The Empireſ who
wishes for it ! It is a chimera; it will stand as a grea
epoch in history, but it can never be revived P
Though great acclamation ensued upon the reading of
the decree, it does not appear to have been regularly
voted before the members returned to business more
personal in a measure of non-confidence against the
Ministry. . . .
The events of the following day, however, showed the
importance of decision of some sort. In the morning, a
similar display of military force was found necessary to

558 Louis NApolfoN BONAPARTE.
meet the populace again congregated about the National -
Assembly. Sixteen guns were planted round the walls;
and the cavalry several times charged upon the people,
and, for the nonce, dispersed them. Some attempts to
erect barricades failed; but so decided were the chances
of general tumult, that, upon the meeting of the Chamber,
one of the Questeurs proposed that the project of law
relative to Louis Napoleon should have immediate prece-
dence; urging that, whether the Prince were innocent or
not of all that was passing in his name, such a state of
things existed as should not be allowed.
Various bureaux of the Assembly had been appointed
to consider the elections of the Prince; that to which had
been referred the election for Paris now reported to
oppose the admission of the Prince into the Chamber;
on the other hand, the 6th and 17th bureaux, for the
Yonne and Charente Inférieure, supported his return ;
and after considerable discussion, the Chamber concluded
to stultify itself by voting the admission of the Prince,
which was accomplished by a large majority: not, how-
ever, without a feeble, perhaps spiteful proviso—“that
he prove himself a French citizenſ"
And now Louis Napoleon Bonaparte first exhibited
that tact, that talent for biding his time which seemed
to be his greatest need, in the “day of small things.”
The electors of three important departments having un-
solicitedly chosen him, the people having risen to support
his right to accept office, and the Assembly compelled
by popular will to concede the right–Louis Napoleon
declined the triumph. All the hands upon the dial were
pointed to Bonapartist ascendancy. Republic, dictator-
ship, and empire had passed away; Bourbon, Orleanist,
and republican principles had succeeded; and now, again,
it was the turn of protectorate and Empire. If men did
not see or comprehend this, it was because they were

ºf NTRIGUE. §:... . . 559
unwilling to believe it possible that principles represented
by a man who had afforded mirth for Europe, a moun-
tebank pretender and tamer of imperial eagles, could ever
endure in the minds of any but weak men who could be
persuaded, or designing men who could be coerced. Louis
Napoleon must have known this; and though, whether
these events were really important or not, he must have
seen in them the verification of his political belief–of
that unwearied faith in the ultimate ascendancy of Bona-
partism which had ever governed his life—he was yet in
no haste to disabuse the minds of those who sneered away
the portents of the time. %.º.º.
He may have learned it in the fortress of Ham, or it
may be, spite of apparent contradictions, a fixed element
of his nature ; but certain it is, he now proved that he
could wait. The tide of popular will ran high enough to
bear him on towards fortune, given good pilotage. The
authorities forbade it ; arrayed bayonets against it ; swept
it with cavalry from the Boulevards, as some good house-
wife is related to have swept the insurgent Atlantic from
her door. Listening, however, to the recurrent roar, the
authorities would have withdrawn their bayonets from
opposition, and left the Atlantic of opinion, or fanaticism,
or whatever dire thing it may prove to be, to its own
strong will. Then Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, though
not many years before he would have risked his life
to place his feet in that flood, gracefully, coyly, modestly
withdrew. -- ; : -z
His reasons for so doing are not inscrutable to those
who can draw affinities, and have pondered a certain fable
wherein a lion and bear are excited by an inferior animal
to exhaust themselves in contention for a benefit which
then he carries off. In a similar spirit, with a similar
object, but with much better grace, Louis Napoleon thus
placed the Government in helpless opposition to the


560 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
electors, and the large portion of the people who sided
with them. º
This coup was effected in two letters addressed respec-
tively to the President of the Assembly and the electors
of the various departments for which the Prince had been
returned. These were received after the Chamber had
decided to admit him ; but not, as from them it appeared,
before, by the calumnious opposition its members had
indulged against him, they had rendered it a point of
honour with the Prince to sacrifice the wishes of those
who elected him, and refuse a seat in the Assembly.
These letters, taken in comparison, are very significant :
that to the President runs thus:
MonstEUR LE PRESIDENT, I had set out to place myself at my post
when I heard that my election had been made the pretext for some
deplorable disturbances and grave errors. .
I have not sought the honour of being a representative of the people,
because conscious of the injurious suspicions of which I was the object.
Still less should I seek for power. If the people were to impose duties
upon me, I should know how to fulfil them. But I disavow all those
who attribute to me intentions which I do not hold, My name is a
symbol of order, of nationality, of glory, and it would be with the
deepest grief that I should see it made use of to augment the troubles
and dissensions of my country. To avoid such a misfortune, I shall
prefer always to remain in exile. I am ready to make every sacrifice
for the happiness of France. . . jº
Have the goodness, M. le President, to make known to the Assembly
the contents of this letter. I send you a copy of my letter of thanks to
the electors. . ...: . .
z Receive, &c., .
. § . . . . ; , Louis NApolfoN BONAPARTE.
That sentence, “If the people were to impose duties,”
&c., chimes in remarkable discord with the resigned
and sorrowful self-abnegation of the rest of the letter,
which comes out with still more striking effect when
compared with the tone of that addressed to the electors.
“Your suffrages,” he wrote, “penetrate me with gratitude.

more flattering because I
moment when I should §
Inct my country needs the
ren in order to pass out of
she is now placed. Your confi-
me duties I shall know how to fulfil.
interests, our aspirations, our sentiments are the
e. A native of Paris, and now a representative of the
; all join my efforts to those of my colleagues
in re-establishing order, public credit, and industry; to
sure peaceful relations abroad ; to consolidate demo-
institutions, and to conciliate interests which now
erse to one another, because they suspect each
and clash instead of marching towards a single
—the prosperity and greatness of the country.
le people have been free since the 24th of February.
may obtain everything without recourse to brute force.
hen, rally ourselves round the altars of the
ry, under the flag of the Republic, and let us
it to the world the grand spectacle of a people
erating itself without violence, without civil war or
difference in the tone of these lette
ime, and despatched under one seal, ::::::::
marked. In one the Prince explicitly declines to accept
office of representative, in the other he is only to
d to bow his imperial head to the honour.
, for the sake of the republic, for th
in the other “Yes,” for precisely the
t questioning the virtues appertaining to pat
comprehensive and tractable a nature, with
that it may be sufficient to account for many
istencies, there is something too studiously false,
y contradictory in this proceeding, for even
account for. The patriotism may remain,



















































º 2 o
562 T.OUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
but it will not satisfy all minds; another explanation
must be sought ; and the contradiction to be explained is
of so impudent a character (“I send you a copy of my
letter of thanks to the electors”) that we are compelled to
seek its solution at one of two sources only ; madness, or
that cunning which mines beneath common honesty and
common sense. Of madness Louis Napoleon Bonaparte
has been acquitted; of cunning (not altogether in an
opprobrious sense) he has been very satisfactorily con-
victed ; and the proceeding under question is one of the
proofs.
For what should be the natural effect (and from the
natural effect may most fairly be inferred the intention)
of those two letters, written in one day and with one pen,
upon the opposed parties concerned Upon the Chamber,
to confirm its objections against remitting the exile of
the Prince. That was the intention of that apparently
accidental and inadvertent sentence in the letter addressed
to it—“If the people were to impose duties upon me, I
should know how to fulfil them.” That sentence, indeed,
is the letter. All the other words, all those declarations
of submission and self-abnegation, were not addressed to
the Assembly or offered for its belief; and were intended
to have only a legal significance. They could not, he well
knew, be heeded in the face of such a declaration ; but
they were nevertheless broad enough to establish proof
of his loyalty and docility should occasion require. For
the same reason that falsifying letter to his electors was
sent for the perusal of the deputies. Such a proceeding
could have no other effect than to exasperate the sus-
picions and the animosity of the Assembly ; and Louis
Napoleon could not possibly have intended any other, and
still retain his senses.
To aggravate, then, the opposition of the Assembly to
the wishes of three powerful departments, while appearing
INTRIGUE. Ö63
to succumb to it, was one point. The other was to excite
in those departments a greater respect for their choice, and
greater determination to enforce it ; and how well calcu-
lated was the letter to the electors to effect this object
no terms are so qualified express as its own : “Our
sentiments, our interests, our wishes are the same. We
understand each other; and whatever duties you impose
upon me I shall know how to fulfil. Speak out loud, and
leave the rest to me. You have been free—you have been
subjected to no legitimate authority, or any authority at
all worth mentioning, since February ; and you can obtain
anything—without having recourse to violence ſ” This
is the meaning, those almost the exact words, of the mani-
festo; and addressed to the thousands who already besieged
the walls of the Assembly with discontent, hurling their
shouts of “Vive Napoléon I Vive l'Empéreur !” in the
faces of the republican soldiery sent to quell them, that
manifesto, if it urged them only one step further forward,
urged them into revolution.
It detracts nothing from the credit of the schemer that
these schemes, so well-favoured and so promising of
success, were frustrated; and the agitation in favour of
Napoleonism (the reality of which cannot be doubted,
unless cavalry and infantry, men, horses, and guns, are
ever in France pitted against unrealities) became merged
in an agitation more personal to the people—a food-
insurrection. Within ten days after these letters were
written, one of the cruellest and most immitigating
conflicts that ever degraded the morals of a people, washed
the stones of every path in Paris with blood. Those
miserable atéliers nationawa, established by cowardice and
folly, had, of course, failed. It had been decided to
disband the army of men retained in them at large public
expense, often in idleness, always without adding to the
public advantage, or increasing by one iota the wealth
564 * LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
which society should derive from industry. Nor were the
Workmen themselves benefited. It was a system eminently
degrading in its effects upon the independence, the whole
general character of the homester portion of them, if only
for the reason that they were associated in it with thou-
Sands of idle and worthless men, and men who were only
too happy to plunder society, no longer in offence, but
under favour of the law. -
The effect of suddenly disbanding these men and throw-
ing them again upon their natural resources, at a time
when trade was in an extremely lax condition, could not
fail to be disastrous; and disastrous enough it proved, we
hope, to enforce the fact, that ever so near an approach to 2.
infringing the rights of property, or interference with the
natural course of industry, is certainly productive of ruin.
A hundred thousand workmen rose in rebellion, carrying
on day after day, with skill, coolness, and precision, nothing
less than a war with all the forces the Government could
command, headed by experienced and unbending leaders.
On the first outbreak, cries of “Vive l'Empéreur !” were
pretty numerous; but it was not now a party strife :
every man fought for himself alone. The bloodiest
atrocities on the part of the insurgents were met with a
corresponding spirit from the soldiery. The former cut
off the feet of a dragoon, and sent him back, mounted, to
his fellows; women among them hacked the bodies of the
dead soldiery, and put poison in the drink of the living.
The latter, for their part, spared neither shot nor shell;
artillery was planted across the streets, and served with
military coolness until there were no more insurgents to
mow down. All the enmity of race could not have pro-
duced greater horrors, and not many pitched battles have
been concluded with more slaughter. Ten general officers
Were reported killed ; the loss of life on either side, inde-
pendent of the wounded, amounted to thousands; and so
INSURRECTION of JUNE. 565
revolting to humanity were all the features of the fray,
that if the existence of despotism in any one country were
not an injury to the whole world, one might be tempted
to say that its severest inflictions upon the people of
France were not too heavy an expiation of the aimless
carnage of those four days.
During the insurrection General Cavaignac was invested
with unrestricted powers; and when, at its conclusion, he
formally deposed them upon the Assembly, the members
thanked him by acclamation, and affirmed a decree con-
fiding in him the Executive authority, under the title of
President of the Council, with power to appoint his
Ministers.
. IX.
If these events were disappointing in their first course
to Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, neither they nor the
sudden ascendancy of Cavaignac were found to affect
the progress of his fortunes. The electors of Corsica
had now almost unanimously chosen him, and on the 8th
July he addressed another letter to the new President of
the Assembly (the third of the same character within a
month), declaring that he was prepared again to sacrifice
himself to the safety of the republic. “Without renounc-
ing prospectively the honour of becoming a representative
of the people, I conceive it to be my duty to delay my
return to the bosom of my country till my presence in
France may no longer serve as a pretext for the enemies
of the republic. I desire that my disinterestedness should
prove the sincerity of my patriotism ; I wish that those
who charge me with ambition should be convinced of
their error.” -
Louis Napoleon Bonaparte may be glad to know, how-
ever, even at this distance of time, that there were other
excellent reasons for declining the representation of Cor-
sica—reasons of themselves sufficient, though probably
566. , LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
overlooked by one who sought only to walk by the
brighter light of patriotism. If his letters to the As-
sembly contained truth, and he really declined the repre-
sentation of Paris or one of the other departments, it
would have been too graceless and too undignified to have
accepted the less important trust of Corsica only three
weeks afterwards. If, on the other hand, his letter to
the electors was honest, and he intended to advantage
himself by taking his seat for Paris, it is obvious at once
that he could not at the same time sit for Corsica, however
much he might desire, in the sincerity of his patriotism,
to benefit as large a portion of his countrymen as possible.
Again, the new elections were now approaching, and
one could not say what might be evolved in their course
which might render his acceptance of Corsica premature.
They were fixed by the National Assembly to take place
the 17th of September; and on the 28th of August the
Prince addressed the following communication to General
Piat.
London, August 28th, 1848.
GENERAL,~You ask me if I would accept the post of representative
of the people, if I were re-elected. I reply without hesitation, Yes.
Now that it has been demonstrated beyond gainsaying that my election
in four departments was not the result of intrigue, and that I have kept
aloof from all manifestations and political manoeuvres, I should deem
myself wanting in duty did I not respond to the call of my fellow-
citizens. -
My name can now no longer be made a pretext for commotions. I
am anxious, therefore, to re-enter France, and take my seat with the
representatives of the people who desire to re-organise the Republic
upon a broad and solid basis. To render the re-imposition of Govern-
ments that have passed away impossible there is but one means—that is,
to do better than they ; for you know, General, that we do not really
destroy what we do not replace.—Receive, &c.,
LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Exhausted by the murderous conflict of June, there
was hope no longer that the people could be excited to
REPRESENTANT IDU PEUPLE, 567
renew their clamours in favour of the Emperor's nephew;
and he became as “anxious to take his seat with the
representatives,” if only soberly elected, as he was resolute
before in declining the honour. 'Tis good to wait, but
not to wait too long. Whether, however, it had become
necessary to assure the electors that the Prince would
now insist upon his right of entrée into the Assembly, we
do not discover ; in any case, the result was certainly
most triumphant to him. He was returned for Paris
(department of the Seine) by 110,752 votes; for the
Yonne, by 42,686 votes; and for the Moselle, the Cha-
rente Inférieure, and Corsica, by large majorities.
Consequently, at the opening of the sitting of the 25th
October, the Prince appeared in the Assembly, amidst
much agitation, and took his seat on the benches of the
Left. The reporters of the various departments for which
he had been chosen then mounted the tribune, and Louis
Napoleon was proclaimed Representative.
He was now fairly embarked upon public office; and
though he had not yet declared which department he
intended to serve, he lost no time in impressing upon his
confrères the quality of his sentiments.” At the moment
of proclamation he rose and said:—
“Citizen Representatives, I cannot remain silent upon
the calumnies of which I have been the object, I feel it
incumbent upon me to declare openly, on the first day I
am permitted to sit among you, the real sentiments which
animate and have always animated me. -
“After thirty-three years of proscription and exile, I
have again found a country and the rights of a citizen.
The republic has conferred upon me that happiness—let
it receive my vows of gratitude and devotion ; and those
generous compatriots who have borne me to these walls
* He afterwards elected to sit for Paris, as his birth-place.

568 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
may be assured that I shall endeavour to deserve their
suffrages, by labouring with you to maintain tranquillity,
the first need of the country, and to develop those demo-
cratical institutions which the people have the right to
claim. . &
“For a long time, I could only devote to France the
meditations of exile and captivity—to-day the career on
which you march is opened to me. Receive me into your
ranks, my dear colleagues, with such sentiments of affec-
tionate confidence as those by which I am animated.
“Always inspired by duty, always animated by respect
to the law, my conduct shall prove, to the conviction of
those who have sought to defame my character and pro-
long my exile, that mone here is more resolved to devote.
himself to the defence of order and the consolidation of the
Tepublic.” .. .
This outburst of injured feeling was received by loud
tokens of applause ; and so earnest does it seem to be, so
wholly prompted from the heart of a sincere man, that none
but those who held weakest faith in human truth could
dare to doubt. Henceforth be it remarked of this man,
that in affirming any sentiment, in making any oath, it is
always done in such terms as to enforce credence, whatever
circumstances stand in contradiction. Nor is it too early,
perhaps, here to remark, since it is so important to ob-
serve and remember, that there is an eloquence in his
falsehood beyond anything of the kind ever attempted.
Seriously we say it, Napoleon the Third has created a
new era in this department of statesmanship as important
as Napoleon the First created in the art of war. The
thorough, clean-limbed tactics of the latter astounded
and overthrew the equivocal manoeuvering of a former
period, when every movement was made under protest and
with reservation. The former has in like manner
abolished the equivocation of words by which that
THE NEW ERA. 569
favourite scheme of statecraft called the Machiavellian has
long been conducted, and which, in providing an outlet for
escape to truth, provided also an inlet for suspicion. That
is a weak and cowardly species of falsehood, which the
new era abjures. In future it is to be thorough: without
insisting upon outlet to the good opinion of the world,
but certainly without inlet to its suspicions, “They order
these things better in France.”
At this period, too, commenced a new era in Louis
Napoleon's own particular policy : the era of silence.
Hitherto he had taken every opportunity, in season and
out of season, to declare his sentiments—by letters, by
speeches, by books; but from his entrance into the
National Assembly of France, where more than in any
other similar convention it is the peculiar business to
talk, he studiously held his peace. On two occasions
only after his induction did he address the House, and
each on personal matters. In course of the discussion of
the articles of the constitution relating to the Presidency,
it was proposed to insert a provision to the effect that no
member of a family which had ever reigned in France
should be admitted to the office of President or Vice-
President. The amendmerit was opposed by several
members, on the good ground, first, that it would con-
stitute a law of proscription unworthy of a great people;
and, for the second reason (which is only indifferent
good, perhaps) “that the head of the imperial family,
against whom the provision was particularly directed,
had from the tribune protested his devotion to the
republic.” The Prince then rose and said that he was
“too grateful to the nation for having restored to him his
rights as a citizen to indulge any other ambition”—than
to be a citizen; and that “it was not in his own name, but
in the name of 300,000 electors, that he protested against
the appellation ‘Pretender, which was continually flung
570 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
in his face.” The journals, in reporting this debate, state
that the amendment was then withdrawn by the pro-
poser, “in consequence of what had been said by M. Louis
Bonaparte.”
A few days after this succès, the Prince had occasion
to address the Assembly on a question of the utmost
importance to himself, and at a delicate period. It had
become known that he had offered himself as a candidate
for the Presidency; and a violent scene ensued in the
Chamber upon the impeachment of a certain M. Clement
Thomas, who demanded by what right the Prince pre-
sented himself for office, and why, to obtain that object,
he had covered the country with his emissaries. He also
roundly declared that it was not the labours of a Pre-
sident that Louis Napoleon desired, but imperial dignity.
The excitement grew so violent that the sitting was sus-
pended. # .
The following day Louis Napoleon ascended the tri-
bune, and spoke these melancholy words:–
“Citizen Representatives, The deplorable incident
which yesterday occurred does not permit me to remain
silent. -
“I deeply regret being obliged to speak again of my-
self, because it is repugnant to me to see the Assembly
constantly engaged with questions of a personal nature,
when we have not a moment to lose for the discussion of
the grave interests of the country. .
“I will speak neither of my sentiments nor of my
opinions—I have already declared them; and no one has
$yet dowbted my word. *
“As to my parliamentary conduct, in the same way
that I should never permit myself to call any of my col-
leagues to account for whatever they may conceive to be
their duty, so I will recognise the right of no man to
CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENCY. 571
question me of mine. This is an account which I owe
to none but my constituents.
“Of what am I accused ? Of having accepted, by
the popular wish, a candidature which I did not seek.
Well, yes! I accept that candidature by which I am
honoured ; I accept it because three successive elections,
and the unanimous decree of the National Assembly
reversing the proscription of my family, authorise me to
believe that France regards the name I bear as able to
assist in establishing society, which has been shaken to
its foundations, and the stability and prosperity of the
Republic. How little do those who charge me with an-
bition know of my heart / If an imperative duty did not
retain me here—if the sympathy of ‘my fellow-citizens
did not console me for the animosity of the attacks of
some, and even for the impetuosity of the defence of
others, I should long ago have wished myself back in
exile. -
“I am reproached for my silence. It is not given to
every one to bring to this place the eloquence of speech
necessary to expound just and wholesome ideas. But are
there no other means of serving one's country What it
is most in need of are deeds; a Government—firm, intel-
ligent, and wise—which thinks more of healing the
wounds of society than avenging them ; a Government
which shall put itself frankly in the van of sound ideas,
in order thus to repel, a thousand times more effectually
than could be done by bayonets, theories which are not
founded on experience and reason. ~
“I know there are some who would beset my path with
snares; but I shall not fall into them. I shall always
follow, as hitherto, the line of conduct which I have
traced out, without disquieting myself, and without
pausing. Nothing will disturb my calmness—nothing
make me forget my duties. I have but one aim, and
572 LOUIS NAPOLEON BON A.P.A.R.T.E.
that is to merit the esteem of the Assembly—and, with
their esteem, that of all honest men—and the confidence
of that magnanimous people which was yesterday treated
so lightly. X-
“I declare, then, to those who would organise against
me a system of provocation, that from henceforward I
shall not reply to any questionings, nor to anything that
may be done to excite me to speak when I would
remain silent ; and, strong in the approval of my con-
science, I shall remain unshaken by all attacks, impas-
sible to all calumny.”
So sorrowfully die away the last words of Louis
Napoleon Bonaparte, Representative of the People; we
next hear him, in a different tone, hopefully rehearsing a
new rôle—Ruler of the People. At the sitting of the
Assembly during which the above speech was delivered,
the 10th of December was fixed for the Presidential
election ; and Louis Napoleon immediately after issued
an elaborated address to the people—an address which
created considerable excitement at the time, and on
which, there is reason to believe, the Prince very much
prided himself. Significant still in relation both to pre-
cedent and subsequent events, it opened as follows.
“In order to recal me from exile, you elected me a
representative of the people. On the eve of electing the
chief magistrate of the republic, my name presents itself
to you as the symbol of order and security.
“These testimonies of a confidence so honourable are
conferred, I well know, much more upon the name I bear
than to myself, who have done nothing yet for my country;
but the more the memory of the Emperor favours me
and inspires your suffrages, the more I feel myself called
upon to make known to you my sentiments and principles.
There must be no equivocation between us. s

CAN DIDATE FOR PRESIDENCY. 573
“I am not an ambitious man, dreaming now of the
Empire and war, at another time of the application of
subversive theories.* Educated in free countries, at the
school of misfortune, I shall ever remain faithful to the
duties imposed upon me by your suffrages and the will
of the Assembly. If I am elected President, I should
shrink from no danger, from no sacrifice, to defend society
if audaciously attacked. Ishould devote myself wholly and
without reserve to the confirmation of a republic wise in
its laws, honest in its intentions, great and powerful in
its acts. .
“I pledge my honour to leave to my successor, at the end
of four years, the executive powers strengthened, liberty
intact, and a real progress established / .
“Whatever may be the result of the election, I shall
bow to the will of the people, and give my concurrence
in support of any firm and honest Government which
shall re-establish order in principles as well as of things ;
which shall efficiently protect our religion, our families,
and our property, the eternal basis of every social com-
munity ; which shall attempt all practicable reforms,
assuage animosities, reconcile parties, and thus permit the
troubled country to count upon the morrow.
“To re-establish order is to restore confidence, to pro-
vide by credit for temporary embarrassment of resources,
to restore health to finance, and revive commerce. To
protect religion and the rights of families is to insure free-
dom of worship and of education. To protect property
is to maintain the inviolability of the fruits of labour :
it is to guarantee the independence and the security of
possession—an indipensable foundation of civil liberty.
“As to the reforms which are possible, the following
are those which appear to me the most urgent.”
* “I am no orator, as Brutus is,
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man ſ"—Julius Caesar.

574 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
Then follow a lengthy series of proposed reforms,
founded upon the commonest principles, not only of
political liberty but of political safety, such as “to intro-
duce into industrial laws” (if industry should ever be
bound by any laws but those which its own natural
operation impose) “modifications which may not tend
to ruin the rich for the gain of the poor ;” and “to avoid
that deplorable tendency which leads the State to do what
individuals may do as well, or better, for themselves;”
reforms which, however, collectively, are too Utopian for
France yet to expect, or ever, perhaps, until the esta-
blishment of that amiable impossibility the Government
which the Prince declares he would alone serve—“a
Government which shall re-establish order in principles
as well as in things, which shall attempt all practicable
reform, assuage animosities, reconcile parties"—and con-
ciliate lions with lambs.
The elections took place in due course on the 10th of
December ; and if any doubt existed hitherto, and con-
siderable doubt did exist, as to the popularity of Bona-
partist views, the results of that election were sufficient
to dispel them for ever. It is vain, and serves no good
purpose since it does not serve the truth, to speak of hired
emissaries and propagandists. No machinery of that
kind ever yet perverted, or ever can pervert, an unwilling
people into voting a ruler into power by a majority so
immense as declared in favour of Louis Napoleon. By
the free will of the people he was undoubtedly elected;
and with so strong a feeling, too, that while less than two
million votes were distributed among men so powerful
and popular as Ledru Rollin, Raspail, Lamartine, and
Changarnier, including even that General Cavaignac who
first redeemed Paris out of the hands of the most power-
ful, the most determined, and at every point of view the
most dangerous mob that ever made murder on the
GOD PROTECTS FRANCE. 575
Boulevards, and then, like an honest man, unconditionally
returned the Supreme command which had been only too
gladly delegated to him, into the hands of those who
were too enfeebled to seize it from him—a man, too, who
had afterwards impartially wielded an almost dictatorial
power for eight eventful months, and again was found
willing to render up his authority as a good servant
should—while such men, including such a man, divided
amongst them the suffrages of two millions of voters, nearly
five millions and a half were showered upon Louis Napo-
leon Bonaparte alone. Nor is the consideration of so
much weight as at first it seems, that Cavaignac had ren-
dered himself obnoxious to the class owvrier by his
unrelenting conduct against the insurgent workmen of
June ; for though it may be true that he did so offend,
Touis Napoleon, on the other hand, made no advances
toward them in his manifesto, which was evidently drawn
up for the inspiration of the bourgeoisie. .
X.
On Thursday, the 20th of December, the Constituent
Assembly received through M. Rousseau the report of the
committee appointed to scrutinise the votes of the
electors, which declared M. Bonaparte to have been
duly returned to fill the office of President. In calling
upon the Assembly to confirm the choice of the people,
M. Rousseau is said to have exclaimed, “Have confidence
—God protects France " What did M. Rousseau mean?
Is this satire'ſ “Don’t be down-hearted—trust in Provi-
dence; it may not be so bad after all !” We do hope
so. M. Waldeck Rousseau had better die a wag than
blaspheme.
Upon the conclusion of the report, General Cavaignac,
as an act necessary to the proclamation of the President,
ascended the tribune, and in a few words surrendered the
...’ ith which he had been investe
‘hich he in turn had devolved upon
dent of the Constituent Assembl
en rose and said—
the name of the French people:
Thereas the citizen Charles Louis Napoleon
reas, in the ballot opened throughout the ext
e republic for the election of President, he has ga.
an absolute majority of suffrages;
“By virtue of the powers conferred upon th
by the Articles 47 and 48 of the Constitution, it
claims him President of the French Republic from th
present day until the second Sunday of May, 185
3.
invite the citizen President of the Republic to ascend t
tribune and take the oath.”
“It was about four in the afternoon,” says Victor
Hugo. “It was growing dark; and the immense hall of
the Assembly having become involved in gloom .
chandeliers were lowered from the ceiling, and candles
were placed upon the tribune. The President mad a
sign, a door on the right opened, and there was seen to
enter the hall and rapidly ascend the tribune a man still
young, attired in black, having on his breast
and riband of the Legion of Honour.”
The man still young and attired in black being
session of the tribune, the President of the Assembly
aloud the oath of allegiance to the republic, as follo







































SWORN. -r 577
lifting up his right hand, responded, “I swear!” And
went farther than that. Carrying out those principles of
statecraft which we have already announced as creating a
new era in the science, the President of the Republic
begged permission to address the Assembly, and added
affirmation which he was not required to make, to the oath
which he was. Spontaneously he declared, with all the
earnestness of sincerity, “The suffrages of the people and
the oath I have taken command my future conduct, and
impose upon me duties which I will fulfill as a man of
honour. I shall regard as the enemies of the country all
who may seek to subvert the constitution which has been
established by the whole of France.” -
The effect of these declarations, so candid and honest,
was deep. At its conclusion, the assembled deputies,
nine hundred in number, rose and shouted, “Wive la
République” in a spirit indicative of the confidence with
which they were inspired. Upon descending from the
tribune, the Prince gave his hand to Cavaignac, whose
conduct he had highly eulogised in the course of his
speech; and the play was dome.
XI.
Nought but the letters and speeches of the nephew of
the Emperor can adequately prove how completely his
hopes were now established—how, in his case, even all
those secret aspirations which steal away into the inmost
recesses of every heart, ashamed of their presumption,
were now realised to the full. Exiled for many weary
years though born upon the steps of a throne, not long
since his dearest wish was to be allowed the right of the
lowest freeman in France; or even as a prisoner to breathe
so much French air as his jailer might permit him. This
was his chief desire as a man; but beyond it he cherished
another, as a Frenchman and a patriot, for the sake of his
- . . . - - . . 2 P






$78 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
country alone;” and long and sore he sighed, in words
that sigh upon his pages still, for the downfall of monar-
chical and the advent of democratic institutions.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, and at one blow, both these
desires were fulfilled. The sovereignty of the people
triumphed, a constitution was founded on its basis, and
three hundred thousand republican electors beckoned him
across the British Channel to “take his seat at the hearth
of the nation” and assist in building up its liberties. No
more was needed (cast a retrospective glance upon his
emphatically-repeated declarations) to consummate the
Prince's dearest hopes; and every drop which henceforth
might fall into the chalice could only overflow the brim
and be lost, without adding another gratification to his
satisfied soul. But Fortune is sometimes most lavish to
whom she has been most unkind; and still drop by drop
her favours fell, like rich anointing—anointing him to be
chief and ruler in that country whose simplest citizen he
had erstwhile pined to be, and over such a democratical
republic as he had only dared to dream of while the
prisoner of a king. . . . . . . . " -
Not only, then, by duty, pride, and honour—incentives
found strong enough to guarantee integrity in every
counting-house and every workshop—but also by convic-
tion and principle, the path of the President was made
plain and pleasant. The constitution by which he had
sworn to govern, or rather by which he was sworn to be
governed, was framed by a Republican Government so
consonant to his political belief that he had implicitly
declared he would remain in exile for ever rather than
disturb it. That constitution, too, the form of govern-
ment of which he was called to be the head, was not alto-
gether untried. It had gone safely through its baptism
* “In the pressnce of the national sovereignty, I cannot nor will I
claim more than my rights as a French citizen.”—Ante, p. 554. ,

PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 579
of fire; it had been tempered in troughs of blood ; what-
ever flaws it contained, in its fire-new innocence, had
been severely tested under the hands of Cavaignac, who
handed it down to the President proved; while the duties
it imposed were few, and clear, and restricted within a
period which rendered them more distinct in the present,
because untrammelled by over-much anxiety for the
future. ~ - - - - -
The task of the Citizen President Bonaparte, then, if
we extend to him the common credence which guides the
commonest affairs, was not only honourable but delight-
ful ; and not only honourable and delightful, but, taken
by comparison and considering its nature, secure. Upheld
by senate, army, and the goodwill of six million of voters,
with trade recovering from the paralysis induced by the
atéliers nationaua, and the discontents consequent upon
their abandonment quelled to his hand—with the public
finances already in an healthy train compared with the
disbursements of Louis Philippe—the Prince had now
only to go straight through with the magisterial duties
of a republic which he believed to be “wise in its laws,
honest in its intentions, great and powerful in its acts *
and then, like Washington, retire. ::..
And yet it is true that the President soon found him-
self vexed by difficulties and beset by factions and in-
trigues of so militant a character, that not only partisans
but impartial men and lovers of justice have adduced
them to excuse whatever derelictions from duty he pre-
sently was found to indulge. But on the relation between
the Presidential difficulties and the Presidential conduct,
we are constrained to suspect, much confusion has oc-
curred: here, however, we only premise the remark (which,
if it does not point to the Prince's inculpation, is included
in the process necessary to complete his exculpation), that
it does not follow because a magistrate is threatened by



380 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
political difficulties that they are therefore directed
against the exercise of his duties or the fulfilment of his
oath. . . . . . . . . -
We have seen that as a representative of the people,
Louis Napoleon's career was marked by this fact : that he
never lifted his voice except on subjects immediately
personal. As ruler of the people, the first act that brought
him before public animadversion was also of a personal
character. A few days after his installation into office, he
applied to M. de Malleville, Minister of the Interior, for
all the documents relative to the affairs of Strasbourg
and Boulogne—contained in sixteen boxes, and preserved
in the archives of the nation. The Minister refused “to
purloin the public documents,” as he explained to the
Assembly; and resigned his office.
There is something hopeful in a sense of shame; and
had the motive for obtaining these documents been to
destroy the record of adventures which could add so little
dignity to his memory, it might well have been hailed
as an indication of a more wholesome growth of mind.
And that the President was at first actuated by such a
motive may really be true; but if so, it must have been in
contemplation of far distant effects and a far distant fame,
for he could not reasonably expect, by destroying the
public records of such accidents, to exercise any imme-
diate influence in impairing the memory of them. And,
secondly, the manner in which he sought to insure that
object, by insisting on the dishonesty or the resignation
of a Minister whose week of office could have furnished
no other objection to his usefulness, is a much clearer
evidence of shamelessness than of shame. Other indica-
tions, too, are to be observed in the manner of this pro-
ceeding, of which these are the chief: a bold spirit of
indifference to the opinions of the more observant of his
countrymen, and to the feelings or honour of others, and


PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC, 581
that a Minister honest enough to refer the measure of
his obedience to the rules of morality or the dignity of
the nation, was not considered a desirable acquisition to
the Cabinet. The inference is direct and incontrovertible.
And here, indeed, is indicated one of the President's
chief difficulties, if we may infer anything from the con-
stant effort he was under to overcome it : i. e., to change
his Ministers. During the few years (months might be
the better computation) of Louis Napoleon's administra-
tion as chief of the State, Ministers three-score and ten,
and even more, were called to his councils; and either
resigned, or, oftener, were dismissed. Nothing can be
more significant than such a state of things. It is easy
to suppose that from among the men who had so recently
established the Constitution, or whose allegiance to it con-
stituted their political existence, even so many as eighty
could be found anxious to protect that Constitution
against encroachment : it is not easy to suppose that out
of eighty so chosen, no man, nor no combination of men,
could be found willing to aid their superior in carrying
on its administration, or in redeeming the oath they
had required of him. But apart from any other injury
to the State, which will be resolved much as a matter of
opinion, with what degree of efficiency the business of
the nation could be carried on with such interruptions as
these constant ministerial changes involved, or how much
the spirit of the representatives of the people was thereby
harassed and weakened, we need not dilate upon. .
As for the objects of the Prince-President, and his in-
difference to the business of the nation so that they were
served, they seem evident enough ; even his panegyrists
are so lost to political shame as to quote them to the
praise of the Prince—to the praise of his capacity, M.
la Guéronnière remarks: “The lines of the tactician are
ruled in his (Louis Napoleon's) head. He arranges or






582 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
alters them according to circumstances. He takes up and
lets down men at the hour appointed for the conjuncture.
He knows whither his steps wend, and he marches with
inflexible firmness towards his aim—with a dull eye, but
an open and resolute mind. . . . Louis Napoleon elevated
to the presidential chair by the immense majority of the
nation, the Constituent Assembly fell immediately into a
minority. What was the elect of the people to do?
The Assembly was the sovereign, even in the seale with
him, and could impeach him. Would he, on his part, try
to humble and oppress the Assembly Would he send
to the ministerial benches men of opposite principles to
his, not to gain them, but to push them to extreme
measures? The rock was perilous. Touis Napoleon was
able to hold on without slipping. He was able to triumph
without struggling. The Constituent Assembly abdicated
of its own accord; and this it did after having voted the
expedition to Rome. To obtain this result the President
had employed a masterly contrivance. He availed himself
of the services of a Minister who was liberal, moderate,
and almost republican, and whom the public could neither
Suspect without insult nor repulse without injustice.
M. Odillon Barrot satisfied the public mind and
the moderate republicans. His talent and his probity
rendered resistance possible against the exclusive repub-
licans of the Constituent Assembly. The majority had
the look of an impregnable citadel. Louis Napoleon took
good care not to break down its gates—he did better: he
obliged the garrison to deliver up the keys to him, and
retreat with all haste into the electoral passes, where it
was certain to be crushed. And so it fell out. . . . The
Prince had gained his object : he had reduced his enemies
to a minority in the national representation.” 3.
By such means. The Minister whose respectability
was here acknowledgedly made the covert from whence to


PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 583
attack the Constituent Assembly with safety, was less
embarrassed in its functions than any other subsequent
one. But on the 31st of October (1849) came a message
to the Assembly (which, it appears, “astonished most
minds”), announcing its dismissal : and henceforth the
President cannot be said to have had any Ministry at all.
Then followed a long ministerial crisis, with other elements
mingling in and deepening it ominously. The expedition
to Rome was the immediate cause of the dismissal of the
Cabinet. That expedition was very unpopular, and the
policy that dictated it was scarcely more favoured by the
Chamber or the Cabinet than by the people; but already
the “will of the elect of December,” to which the Presi-
dent boastfully refers in this message as the only safeguard
to France, began to make itself felt. The Ministry was
expelled; the Assembly allowed itself to be intimidated
by the imposing attitude of the President,” the occupation
of Rome was continued, and, if it served no other political
end, conferred a claim upon the gratitude of the Church.
It is useless, if not impossible, to reproduce in detail
the squabbles and dissensions that henceforth marked the
* In the message of the 31st October the Prince boldly makes the
declaration. “A whole system triumphed on the 10th December, for the
name Napoleon is a complete programme of itself.” Anything more
frank than this avowal can scarcely be conceived. It means, “Not a
President only, you will observe, triumphed on the 10th of December, but
his system: not Bonaparte, but Bonaparte-ism. The name Bonaparte is a
complete programme of itself; in accepting that name, you accept the
whole of the scheme: there can be no Bonaparte without Bonapartism.”
Whether or not the following passage, which occurs in a collection of
what are called the Political Thoughts of Napoleon the Third, was
spoken in reference to the occupation of Rome, we do not undertake to
decide: “Whenever I can, indeed, I endeavour to diffuse religious ideas,
the most sublime of all, since they guide us in prosperity and console us
in adversity. My Government, I say it with pride, is one of the few
that have supported religion for herself alone; it supports it, not as a
political organ, not to flatter a party, but solely from inward belief, from
the love of good which it inspires, as well as of the truths it communi-
eates.”. . º
LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
course of Louis Napoleon's relations with the legislative
power. But it must be remarked that relations with
such a body could only end in opposition to it, in any
man not unworthy of respect : they could only be pro-
ductive in a powerful man of pity, of a proud man of
disdain, of a sensible man of disgust. No such spectacle
of vulgarity, of unprincipled intrigue, of yelling imbecility
has ever been presented before the face of the world,
civilised or uncivilised. With every disposition, sincerely,
to use the most moderate terms, we are obliged to say so
much, not to speak the whole truth, but to convey some
idea of it ; for it would be necessary to reprint the records
of the debates of the French Assembly themselves during
the years 1850 and 1851, to acquaint the reader with the
depths to which partisanship, under favourable circum-
stances, may bring the legislative authority of a nation.
Even on the one single point upon which the Assembly
was ever united, opposition to the executive authority, it
was highly culpable—granting to-day, in violence of the
Constitution, the means of accomplishing what to-morrow
was impotently clamoured of on constitutional grounds.
We refer to the enormous additions to the Presidential
income, which, if Louis Napoleon culpably applied, the
Assembly as culpably granted. The boldness of the
President on the one hand, and the weakness of the
Assembly on the other, is well exemplified in this mo-
netary fact. The Constitution provided that the Presi-
dent should be lodged at the public expense, and should
receive a salary of 600,000 francs (£24,000) a-year. The
very spirit of republican institutions, apart from oaths,
and constitutions, and common prudence, should have
forbidden the increase of an income ample for all the
purposes of the Presidential office—if insufficient for
the establishment of a higher and more irresponsible
authority. However unimpeachable the character, how-


PRESIDENT of THE REPUBLIC. 585
ever irreproachable the conduct of such an officer, it is
manifestly false policy to extend in the least degree the
means of his personal aggrandisement ; it is wise in any
State, but sheer duty in a republican State, to restrict
those means within the closest limits; nevertheless, the
National Assembly, upon demand, increased the resources
of a man whom they professed to suspect, from 600,000
francs a-year to more than a million and a-half. Nor
was this all. In June, 1850, the Prince made applica-
tion for a supplementary allowance of 1,400,000 francs,
which the Assembly voted; and only hesitated in a
course so fatal to the interests they were bound to
watch when, in February of the following year, ano-
ther demand upon the national purse was made—a de-
mand increased on this occasion to 1,800,000 francs.
It was refused; the committee observing in their report
that the Presidency was not royalty; that the Presi-
dent was only the chief citizen, and head of the executive
authority : further intimating the opinion that this do-
tation was applied for for the purpose of prosecuting
political purposes of an illegal nature. This occurred in
February, 1851.* . . .
But the views of the President had been sufficiently
subsidised. While the Assembly was occupied in the
squabbles that should have been debates, Louis Napoleon,
relieved by it of any respect he might have been disposed
to entertain for the legislative power, and, consequently
for the law, steadily and boldly pursued the intention he
held from the first hour of his accession to authority—
never to relinquish it. His schemes were from the first
%. In anticipation of the rejection of the Dotation Bill, subscriptions
had been largely entered into in Paris, on behalf of the President. The
day following its rejection, the Moniteur announced that the Prince
gratefully declined such extraordinary means of pecuniary support.


When it is remembered how many are the Government employés in
Paris, the marvel of such a subscription does not appear so great. .

586 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
planned on an imperial scale. He established an état-
Trajor, he surrounded himself with officiers d'ordonnance
and by aides de camp (though it was expressly provided
by the Constitution that the President should have abso-
lutely no command in the army), instituted the etiquette
of a Court, held reviews, formally conferred honours, and
by all available means, small and great, endeavoured to
recall the souvenirs de l'Empire, upon which all his strength
depended. How the parti prêtre having been propitiated
by the expedition to Rome, Louis Napoleon propitiated
the army upon the “plains of Satory” and St. Maur will
Inot soon be forgotten. “Soldiers, a thousand centuries
look down upon you,” cried Napoleon at the Pyramids;
“Soldiers, I placemy crown in your keeping,” he exclaimed
on another eventful field—Waterloo; and by so appeal-
ing to the enthusiasm, to the sentiment of his men, insured
their love, and infused strength to meet strong men into
bodies weakened and wasted by more than the toils of
war. It is true that there are many distinctions to be
drawn between the plains of Waterloo and the plains of
Satory; the latter afforded no such opportunity of appeal-
ing to the glories of an old army; but in each case the
personal feelings of the soldiers were to be aroused, and it
will be remembered for many days that the Nephew's
appeal was through the stomachs of the soldiery, and his
trust in chickens and champagne. No political exigency
of which we can conceive is powerful enough to justify
a proceeding so subversive of the military spirit of an
army, or, what is of much more importance, of that spirit
of subordination which is the only assurance of civil inde-
pendence wherever a large standing army is maintained.
And as it would be absurd, as it would be unjust to the
Sound intelligence on such points which the Prince un-
doubtedly possesses, to suppose that he was not cog-
misant of the responsibility and danger of so tampering

§

PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 587
with the discipline of the soldiery, so it is impossible to
imagine that he would have used means so subversive
and politically immoral for any purposes but such as
were exaggerated by personal feeling into peculiar
exigency. .
But, even in political France, the Dark Ages have not
altogether returned ; in these days, if a nation will go
to ruin, it must do so in the open light and without
excuse; and even an army so accustomed as the French to
enforcing unrelentingly the will of whoever for the nonce
may be its favourite, is not sufficiently powerful to elevate
that person upon the necks of the people against their
will. Consequently, though assured of the support of
the military power, it was necessary also to revive the
prestige which the very name Napoleon imposes upon
the popular imagination ; and hence those imperial pro-
gresses through the provinces which, undertaken while
the Assembly was in vacation, so greatly excited the
indignation of its members. That these progresses,
with their feastings and harangues, in which the
enthusiasm of the people was inflamed by unceasing
references to the “great name of my uncle the Emperor,”
caused the surprise of the Assembly, we are unwilling
to imagine, since it had so readily furnished the Pre-
sident with the means to pursue them. Vain, and
worse than vain—ridiculous were the protests and de-
nunciations so impotently aimed at the conduct of
the President upon its re-assembling. The thing was
done; not in spite of the legislative authority, but by
its kind, if blind connivance; and all the answer it
received in reply to demands for an explanation of such
extraordinary conduct on the part of its officer was
such as, if it reflected no credit upon him, was by it well
deserved : an insolent intimation to attend to its own
affairs.

TIOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
5
8
S
XII.
So Louis Napoleon Bonaparte conducted what may
be termed his private business, and so the majority of
the Assembly seemed each to follow his private affairs,
his Monarchy, his Socialism, his Red Republicanism of
deeper or of paler dye ; with fatal indifference in some,
and frantic opposition in others, to everything that did
not trend in the direction of his own ideas or apart
from those of his neighbour. But while the Presi-
dent assiduously impelled his under-current designs, his
messages and addresses, almost up to the last, were full
of peace to the republic and good will to all parties. So
late as November 1850, upon the opening of the session
of the Assembly, he sent down a message which, it has

been remarked, was considered so frank and explicit as
to dispel all pretence for alarm or uneasiness. He him-
self recalled the fact that he was bound by his oath to
confine himself to a strict executive interpretation of
the Constitution, and added, “Everyone ought to sacrifice
his individual wishes, and occupy himself only with
what may conduce to the happiness of the country. If
you decide that the Constitution ought to be revised, a
Constituent Assembly would occupy itself with the funda-
mental laws of the country, and define the duties of the
executive power. If not, the people will again declare
its will in 1852. What I am now concerned with is, not
to know who is to govern France in 1852, but so to employ
the time which now remains as that the transition ma
be passed without disturbance.”
The year 1851 was inaugurated by the deepening infa-
tuation of political parties, and, more ominous yet, the dis-
missal of General Changarnier from the command of the
army of Paris. The attitude of this man had long been
remarkable. There was a steady, dumb defiance in it,


COMING EVENTS. 589
which it was well known Louis Napoleon was conscious
of ; and for a time the movements of these two men were
watched with an intense expectation. It was upon Chan-
garnier that the whole dependence of the Assembly was
pitched for the conservation of the military authority
which properly belonged to it, and for its exercise in cases
of emergency : as if its existence were threatened. For his
part, Changarnier seems to have taken up the trust (to
whatever use we may believe he would ultimately have
directed it) with a personal verve, a concentrated idea of
a “mission” and his own exclusive fitness to perform it,
highly unbecoming and dangerous in a soldier. He was, in
fact, the only man whom Louis Napoleon had to fear; but
at the same time he was one whom the nation had not the
less reason to mistrust. To break him down was to break
down a formidable barrier ; the attempt would at least
afford a good test of the strength of the Assembly ; and
break him down Louis Napoleon resolutely did, upon a
question concerning certain unconstitutional standing
orders for the guidance of the army in case of insurrection,
with which Changarnier was implicated. He was dismissed
from the command of the army, and with no worse result
than a ministerial crisis; though it appears from Guéron-
nière that “the day after the dismissal of General Chan-
garnier was announced to the National Assembly, the
leaders of the majority held a hasty meeting and determined
to make one last effort with the President. M.M. Thiers,
De Broglie, Berryer, and Montalembert set out for the
Elysée. They were received with that affable and digni-
fied politeness which inspires confidence without permit-
ting familiarity. Louis Napoleon had to cope with men
of influence; he had to sustain the shock of the greatest
eloquence and most undoubted experience of our times.
He listened to all with the most perfect calmness. The elo-
quent men who were addressing him took up the subject


590 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
one after another in this important interview. They ex-
pended all their power to shake and convince him. They
offered peace, they declared war; they pointed to the
lessons of the past, the difficulties of the present, the
perils of the future, and alternately made trial of supplica-
tions and threats. These torrents of words only fell from
their lips to glide along steel. All was useless. Nothing
was changed.”
The history now resolved itself to a point: Revise
the Constitution, repeal the law of the 31st of May
restricting the suffrage, or see what you will see. The
revision of the Constitution was universally understood
to mean the prolongation—perhaps, also, the extension—
of the President's powers; that, in fact, was the question.
To this point all the measures of Louis Bonaparte tended :
his convivial reviews, his progresses, his speeches, all paved
the way to that event, and provided a path beyond it:
if necessary, over it. But other factions were equally
desirous of the revision. Legitimists and Orleanists che-
rished a vague hope of some vaguer benefit possibly
contingent upon it ; but the party known as the Left,
consisting of the Republican, Socialist, and Red Repub-
lican members, were jealously and violently opposed to the
measure. Petitions poured in from all quarters praying
for the revision, most of them in favour of Louis Napo-
leon; and, encouraged by these symptoms of popular
support, he now sought no longer as diligently as hitherto
to ameliorate his relations—outwardly, at least—with the
Assembly, but boldly hinted his pretensions in opposi-
tion to it. It was plain that the wretched plots and dis-
putes which had long been the disgrace of both Legisla-
ture and Administration were converging into tempest :
even the deputies held their breath awhile, and—at
intervals—forgot to vociferate. *}.
On Monday, July 14th, the discussion opened, and was

g

COMING EVENTS. ; 59].
continued with a great degree of order and an extra-
ordinary degree of power. It is to be remembered that
the Assembly was not without statesmen and the learned,
dissipated as were their talents in such an atmosphere.
Montalembert, Larochejaquelin, Thiers, Molé, and Berryer
were men as eminently fitted to discuss constitutional
questions as any men in Europe; and if they did not all
take that prominent part in the question of revision
which their position elsewhere would have forced upon
them, we may reconcile our wonder with the supposition
that they foresaw that the vote of the Assembly could
not terminate the question. M. Odillon Barrot, M. de
Falloux, General Cavaignac, MM. Berryer, Dufaure, and
Victor Hugo were the principal speakers. .
The revision was ultimately answered in the negative,
The votes of 446 of 724 members were, indeed, given
affirmatively, leaving a minority of 278 ; but, by Article
XI. of the Constitution, a majority of three-fourths of
the members was necessary to carry such a proposition ;
it was therefore lost, in fact, by a minority of ninety-
Seven. .
Thus the first hope of prolonged power by legitimate
means was overcome : another yet remained—the re-
storation of universal suffrage, by which means the
Prince might become re-eligible. The threatening front
which Socialism of a deep character had opposed to pro-
perty and life—a danger at that time more firm-seated
and imminent, we believe, than is usually supposed—
had rendered the abolition of universal suffrage neces-
sary, perhaps, for the conservation of society. No people
in Europe, it is to be feared, are so advanced as to render
universal suffrage a desirable, or, indeed, other than a
baneful thing. In England, where we have closely and
successfully pursued Freedom for her gifts on a bloodless
path, where the rights of property are more Sacred than

592 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
anywhere else in the world, and unquestioning obedience
to whatever may be law has passed into a national charac-
teristic, it is a liberty which no sensible man desires, and
which not a few of those whom it is proposed to benefit
would refuse. Without experiment, that is the conclu-
sion of the wisest in England. In France, however,
it has been tried, constantly with disastrous effects;
but she has not yet profited by the lessons for which
she has paid so dearly in blood and treasure. It has
been remarked that whenever there is most political
freedom in that nation, then there is the greatest civil
danger; and the diseased condition of popular feeling
during the existence of universal suffrage under the
Presidency, is not more significant of the fact than the
order which has since existed under despotism and an
Empire. Socialism the maddest and the direst permeated
from end to end of France during the former period; and
though doubtless it is true that certain people at certain
times found it convenient to present the dangers of the
principle in flame-colour, yet that they often exceeded
the truth it would be hard to show. .
It was to avoid these dangers, then, that the law re-
stricting the suffrage was passed; but there was another
reason which had much influence in the decision of the
Chamber : to cripple the popularity of the Prince, and
prevent his seeking support from the prestige of his
imperial name ; in fact, to abrogate the influence by
which he had attained his original elevation. There can
be no doubt that the majority of his opponents in the
Assembly congratulated themselves upon having prostrated
together, at one blow, anarchy and the power of the Presi-
dent : he knew, however, that they were only avoiding
one contest in the present by insuring another in the
future ; unless they should in time succumb.
The revision of the Constitution, then, being not yielded,

COMING EVENTS. ... -- 593
on the opening of the last session of the Assembly (No-
vember 4), Napoleon met its constituents with a lengthy
address, the gist of which was the restoration of universal
- suffrage.* “If" (so ran a portion of the message) “If I at
present ask to have the law of May 31 withdrawn; I do
not mean to deny the approbation I formerly gave to the
initiative of that Ministry which asked the majority to sup-
port the law it presented. I admit, even, that to a certain
extent its effects have been salutary. In calling to mind
the circumstances under which it was presented, it must
be allowed that it was a political act rather than an
electoral law : that it was a real measure of public safety.
And whenever the Assembly proposes to me vigorous
measures to Save the country, it may count on my disin-
terested and firm co-operation. But measures of safety
are only passed for a limited time.”
The message was received with derision: five times
this little paragraph was interrupted by laughter, mingled
with murmurings and shouts of denial. The measure was
lost ; and with it fell all disguise between the opposed
authorities. .
On Sunday previous to this decision, but not before
the strong shadow of its coming had been cast at the
President's feet, he held a kind of military levée, at which
were assembled the officers of all the regiments then in
garrison at Paris. The President addressed them thus:
“Gentlemen,_Receiving the officers of the various
regiments of the army which succeed each other in the
* It was necessary to reconstruct the Ministry in order to introduce
this Bill. M. Léon Faucher, who was the “reporter” of the law limiting
the suffrage, was in power at the time when its abrogation was proposed
in the Cabinet, impliedly as the only alternative of a coup d'état. M.
Faucher, it seems “could neither comprehend nor accept the necessities
of this solution;” so he is accused, at any rate; and declined to propose
the abrogation of a law he had been instrumental in imposing. M.
Billault was consequently sent for, and accepted place for the occasion.
Q


(594 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
garrison of Paris, I congratulate myself on seeing them
animated by that military spirit which constituted our
glory, and which renders us now secure. I shall not,
therefore, speak to you either of duties or of discipline.
As for your duties, you have always fulfilled them with
honour, whether on the soil of France or in Africa, and
your discipline has been perfectly maintained through
the most arduous trials. I trust that these trials will not
return ; but should grave events bring them back, and
oblige me to appeal to your fidelity, I am sure it will not
desert me; because you know I would ask nothing but
what consists with my right as acknowledged by the Con-
stitution, with military honour, and with the interests of
our country; because I placed at your head men who
enjoyed my confidence, and deserved yours; and because
if ever the day of peril should come, I will not act like
the Governments which have preceded me: I would not
say, ‘March, and I will follow you ! but ‘I will march,
follow me!” . ºr $3.3%
The diplomatic ingenuity of this speech has not often
been surpassed; and its effect upon the legislative au-
thority was not to soothe its alarm. That article of the
Constitution providing that “the National Assembly
fixes the amount of military force necessary for its own
security, and disposes of it” was brought especially before
its notice; and being considered equivocal, the questewrs
proposed to strengthen its meaning by a distinct enact-
ment;” but as well qualified to legislate for its own safety
as for the honour and dignity of the nation, the propo-
sition was rejected: its only effect being to enable the
President to retaliate upon the Assembly that it sought
to place the executive authority under military coercion.
* The questeurs were four members, who acted as a sort of commission
of Police for the Assembly. .



coup D’ETAT. . 595
XIII. rº
So affairs stood on Monday, the 1st of December.
But— . t
IN THE NAME of THE FRENCH PEOPLE'ſ
The President of the Republic decrees:
Art. 1. The National Assembly is dissolved. .
Art. 2. Universal Suffrage is restored. The law of the 31st May is
annulled. x- . - ... --> -
Art. 3. The French people are to assemble in their comitia from the
14th December to the 21st of the same month. - . . . . . . . . .
Art. 4. Martial law is proclaimed within the limits of the first
military division. - . .
Art. 5. The Council of State is dissolved. ‘. .
Art. 6. The Minister of the Interior is charged with the execution
of the present decree.
And—
FRENCHMEN,--The present state of things can no longer continue.
Every succeeding day aggravates the dangers of the country. The
Assembly, which ought to be the most strenuous support of order, is
become a focus of conspiracies. Three hundred patriotic members
have not been able to stop its destructive career. Instead of making
laws for the common good, it forges arms for civil war; it molests the
power which I hold directly of the people ; it encourages every bad
passion; it endangers the peace of France. I have dissolved it; and I
make the whole people a judge between it and myself. .
The Constitution, you are aware, had been framed with the design,
of weakening beforehand the power you have intrusted to me. Six
millions of votes were a splendid protest against it, and yet I conformed
to it faithfully. I was provoked, I was calumniated, I was insulted,
without complaining. But now that the fundamental compact is no
longer respected, even by those who continually appeal to it; and that
the men who have already ruined two monarchies would bind my hands
in order to destroy the Republic, it becomes my duty to baffle their
perfidious projects, to support the Republic, and to rescue the country,
by invoking the solemn judgment of the only sovereign which I acknow-
ledge in France—the People. . - %.
Itherefore appeal frankly to the whole nation, and I say to you, If
you wish to continue in the unsettled state which now degrades us, and
is prejudicial to the future, elect another in my room, for I scorn to
hold a power which is impotent to do good, which renders me respon-


596 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
sible for acts which I cannot prevent, and chains me to the helm whilst
I see the ship drifting towards the rocks. If, on the contrary, you still
feel confidence in me, give, me the means of accomplishing the great
mission with which you have intrusted me. The object of this mission
is to close the era of revolutions, by satisfying the legitimate wants of
the people, and by protecting them from corrupt and subversive pas-
sions. Its principal duty is to create institutions that will outlive us,
and which at last will become the foundations whereon something en-
during may be erected. - º
Convinced that an unstable Government, and the preponderance of a
single Assembly, are permanent causes of discord and confusion, I
submit to your votes the following fundamental principles of a Consti-
tution, which the Assemblies may hereafter develope : º
1st. A responsible Chief, appointed for ten years.
2nd. Ministers solely dependent on the Executive Power. -
3rd. A Council of State, composed of the ablest men, to devise laws
and discuss them before the Legislative Body. º
4th. A Legislative Body, to discuss the laws and vote upon them,
to be elected by Universal Suffrage, without the list of votes being
examined to annul the election. ſº º gº
5th. A second Assembly, composed from the most eminent men in
the country : an equiponderant power to guard the fundamental com-
pact, and the liberties of the people. - . . . . .
This system, conceived by the First Consul at the opening of the
century, has already given peace and prosperity to France ; it woul
Secure them once more. . . . . :- - - - - 3:3: : º,
Such is my deep conviction. If you think as I do, let it appear in
your votes. If, on the other hand, you prefer a Government without
strength, monarchical or republican, borrowed from some visionary
past, or some chimerical future, answer by a negative vote. §.
Thus, then, for the first time since 1804, you will vote with full
intelligence of the matter, well knowing for whom and for what.
If I do not obtain a majority of your votes, I shall summon a new
Assembly to meet, and deliver to that body the mandate I have
received from you. : . . -
But if you think that the cause which my name represents—that is
to say, France regenerated by the Revolution of ’89, and organised by
the Emperor—is still yours, you will declare it by confirming the
powers I ask of you. - º, --
Then will France and Europe be preserved from anarchy, obstacles
will be removed, party contests will disappear, for all men will respect
the verdict of the people as the decree of Providence.






Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.


COUP D’ETAT, 597
These proclamations, posted on every wall by dawn of
morning on the 2nd of December, evinced that affairs
had changed. Troops filled the city before its inha-
bitants were well awake; Generals Changarnier, Ca-
vaignac, Lamoricière, Lefló, and Bédeau, with Colonel
Charras, MM. Thiers, Lagrange, and other less influential
persons, but numerous enough to be counted by the score,
were arrested; and the proclamations were posted, the
troops were disposed, and every arrest was made, in less
than two dark hours of a winter morning. Stupid asto-
mishment fell upon the people, not unmixed with terror,
which the suddenness of the coup was even better calcu-
lated to inspire than its completeness or its force. Groups
warm from their beds gathered about the proclamations,
read them, and slowly dispersed, all with the air of half-
waked men. There hung upon the city a perceptible
cloud, which yet had light in it, and was awakening, like
those lurid, unnatural clouds which fall upon the streets
sometimes in the evenings of autumn, suggesting earth-
quakes to the mind. The public gardens were closed,
batteries were stationed at the bridges, cavalry filled the
Place dela Concorde, and dense masses of troops in fighting
order filled every avenue leading to the palace of the Pre-
sident. More than 50,000 Frenchmen, it is computed,
that day awaited with charged gun, and fixed bayonet, and -
drawn Sabre, the waking of Paris—stole, as it were, to its
chamber-door and to its bedside, ready to cut the throat
of Paris or to fetter it, according as it turned upon the
right side or the left. Such a sight, at once so terrible
and pitiful, it is almost impossible to conceive. There
was reason enough for the stupor of the populace, and
the reasonablest apprehensions in the world of an earth-
quake. .
It soon seemed, however, to pass over. The appear-
ance of fifty thousand men armed against their fellows in ,
a cause of which they had not, most of them, the slightest




598. LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
comprehension—ready to shed the blood of their country-
men, in any street in Paris, at the bidding of men whose
authority they never cared to know—proved not to be one
of those resurrectionary portents we are taught to expect.
The people, become broad awake, declared the coup of the
JPresident to be very clever, and returned to their busi-
ness—for that evening, at least; many of the troops, too,
were returned to their barracks. ... " -
The day did not pass over, however, without protest.
A large body of the members of the Assembly hurried
to take their seats upon the first rumour of the coup
'état, but found the doors guarded by Chasseurs de Vin-
cennes, a corps recently returned from Savage contests
with savages in Algeria; and who (it has been repeatedly
asserted, and never satisfactorily contradicted) had been
stimulated to their duty by a present to each man of a
five-franc piece. The members demanded admission, the
soldiery refused it at the points of their bayonets. The
representatives then retired to the mairie of the tenth
arrondissement, where, first reciting the sixty-eighth
article of the Constitution, pertinent to the question, they
decreed Louis Napoleon to be deprived of all authority,
enjoined the citizens to withhold their obedience, and
called upon the High Court of Judicature to proceed
against the President and his accomplices. This decree
was signed by nearly 250 representatives. But the attempt
proved futile; for scarcely were the signatures all summed
when a body of troops appeared at the door, and the re-
presentatives were called upon to disperse. They refused
to do so, but allowed themselves all to be taken to prison;
and in a few days were conveyed, some to the fortress of
Mont Valerien, some to Mazas, and the remainder to
Vincennes. Thus ended the Assemblée Nationale ; and,
unhappily, we are denied the consolation of adding that
it departed public life at all lamented. The High Court





coup D’ETAT. 599
of Justice endeavoured to perform the office enjoined
upon it by the Assembly; but after instituting certain
forms, which they had no power to fulfil, went quietly
into oblivion. That social power, too, which is only
second in importance to the law, the press, was this day
carefully destroyed. With one or two necessary excep-
tions, all the offices of the journals were occupied by
soldiery, and seals set upon the presses. .
On the following morning, the 3rd, symptoms of strong
excitement became manifest. The Red Republicans and
other less fierce opponents of the President had now re-
covered from the first shock of surprise, and were busy
among the populace. Addresses were promulgated, mem-
bers of the late Assembly harangued the people in the
streets; and before nightfall it became certain that re-
sistance was determined on. A Committee of Resistance
had been organised on the evening of the 2nd by members
of the party called the Left. This committee—composed
of the representatives Carnot, de Flotte, Jules Favre, de
Montjau, Michel (de Bourges), Schoelcher, and Victor
Hugo—had set itself in motion, and its influence began to
be seen. Later as it grew, the multitudes assembled upon
the quays and the boulevards swelled greater; and still
louder became that most terrible of all sounds—far
more awful than wind, and sea, and heavenly thunder—
the low-surging, melancholy roar of an excited multitude.
The Ministers of Louis Napoleon heard it, and were pre-
pared. Stringent proclamations were issued, notifying
that any persons found in the act of erecting or defend-
ing a barricade, or bearing arms, would be subjected to
death; the circulation of carriages was forbidden; and
authority was given to the police and to the soldiery for-
cibly to disperse groups of people without previous notice.
Various unimportant collisions had taken place in the
course of this day (the 3rd); but it was richest in

600 Louis NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
the promise of mischief, which was amply redeemed on
the morrow. It is needless to describe the details of
the carnage of this day—the sickening repetition of a
sickening tale. Barricades were erected at an early hour
in every available or advantageous position throughout
Paris; and against these and those who defended them
(many of them, as usual, boys), full 30,000 men were
employed for hours, with all the exasperation of street
warfare. No mercy was shown by the soldiery, for the
soldiery were assassinated at every opportunity; and,
indeed, the cruelties attributed to them, though variously
repeated, are almost too savage for belief. A pistol-shot
fired from one of the houses in a street occupied by the
military was answered by an attack so simultaneous and
extensive as really to countenance the assertion that that
pistol-shot was a signal preconcerted by the officers of the
army. Without a word of warning, fire blazed along
the whole line of soldiery, the muzzles of their pieces, in
some cases, actually touching their victims. Men and
women indiscriminately, wherever they were seen, were
shot down by the musketry, and well-delivered volleys of
grape now and then summarised the carnage of a street.
In the case of one brigade, the men had at length to be
restrained from their indiscriminate, and therefore, per-
haps, to a large extent ineffectual fusilade, out of economy
for powder.” Corpses in little heaps, blood in great pud-
dles, were everywhere to be seen; and when all was over,
the dead, women and men, were buried in Montmartre

* M. Mauduit, who apologises for the coup d’état, writes: “Les
soldats du Général Cotte, électrisés par la fusillade qui les entoure,
ouvrent aussi le feu, mais & l’aventure, et le continuent pendant huit
ou dix minutes, naalgré les efforts du général et de ses aides-de-camp,
pour arrêter une consommation aussi inutile de munitions, et qui
ne pouvait faire que des victimes innocentes;” car, certes, aucun
combattant, ne dut €tre tenté de se montrer aux fenêtres pendant
cet effroyable ouragan.” ... :::::::::"...?


coup D’ETAT. 601
with their heads above ground, that their relatives might
recognise them.*
All this occurred on the 4th, and on the 4th the con-
test virtually ended. As to the barbarous determination
with which it was carried on on the part of the forces,
the report of the Commander-in-Chief, Magnan, affords a
clearer idea than any of those high-wrought denunciations
which have since appeared can pretend to. He reports,
“Seeing that the day had passed off in slight and insig-
nificant skirmishes, and without any decisive result, and
expecting that the object of the ringleaders was to harass
the troops by successively exciting commotion in all
quarters of Paris, I resolved to leave the insurrection to
itself for some time, to allow it an opportunity of taking
up its ground, to establish itself upon it, and finally form
a compact mass which I could come up and fight with.
With this view, I ordered off every small post, sent the
troops to the barracks, and waited " General Magman
then proceeds to congratulate the President upon the
success of this plan, and the perfect and workmanlike
butchery it enabled him to accomplish. Had ever
master such a man? Or what graver charge can be
brought against the character of the master, than that
he received such a report and its felicitations, or that
either could be offered him at all? . x-. . . . . ~~
With the expatriation of at least 4000 men, the
labours of Louis Napoleon were now finished; and with
the termination of this contest terminated all opposi-
tion to his will ; from that day to this his will has been
the will of France. On the 3rd December a decree" was
issued, convoking the people in their various electoral
districts to accept or reject the following “plebescité:”
“The French people wills the maintenance of Louis Na-
poleon Bonaparte's authority, and delegates to him the
* Morny (interior), St. Arnaud (war), de Maupas (police), and Per-
signy, were the Ministers who assisted to strike the coup d'état.
602 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE,
powers necessary to frame a Constitution on the basis of
his proclamation of the 2nd December.” At the first
promulgation of this “plebescité,” all Frenchmen who had
attained the age of twenty-seven years, and in possession
of their civil rights, were called upon to vote; but after-
wards it was decreed that the franchise should be ex-
tended to all freemen of twenty-one years of age. The
ballot took place on the 20th and 21st of December, and,
the result, as officially announced, stood thus: Affirmative
votes, 7,439,219; negative, 640,737. The suffrages of
the army were separately computed, and were, of course,
decidedly affirmative : not so of the votes of Algeria,
which were unfavourable to the President's pretensions.
The personal history of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte is
now summed up in few words. Restored to more than
his original authority, it soon became apparent to all the
world that it was only a means to the further aim—an
aim kept constantly in sight from the beginning—the
restoration of the Empire. For a long time Louis Na-
poleon played coyly about the subject. Apart from motives
of internal policy, the Empire was a delicate subject to
introduce into his foreign relations; it long remained
doubtful whether he could have been acknowledged under
such an assumption by the other continental powers.
But by patience, and prudence, and good fortune, all
obstacles to his ambition were removed in the course of a
single year; and, ratified by eight millions of voters, the
Empire was proclaimed, and exists.
& XIV.
It now remains to say a few words—necessarily few
in a memoir so limited as the present—on a subject
which will hereafter engage the serious consideration of
history: the conduct of Louis Napoleon Bonaparte. We
paused upon the Strasbourg and Boulogne adventures,
upon the conclusion of that period which had only proved



CONCLUSION. .” 603
him to be a rash and weak man, to consider how that
should be; since the nature of no man changes in four or
five years, and Louis Napoleon had afterwards proved
beyond question that, whatever else may be alleged against
him, he is neither rash nor weak. The solution of his
conduct up to that time, with all its folly, we endeavoured
to charge upon a fanatical idea—the Idée Napoléonienne
—which, with its secret voice and voice of destiny, urged
him on to its consecration either in the “light of power
or the obscurity of a dungeon.” And we concluded that
in this fanaticism, or faith, lies reconciliation between
the characteristics which have marked these two periods
of his career—that which was spent in the obscurity of
exile and of prisons, and that which is at length passed
in the brightness of power. The very strength of this
faith was his weakness at one time, and his strength at
another. It was his weakness when, unresting and in-
tolerant under restraint, it beat itself wildly against the
limits that to all but Louis Napoleon appeared so hope-
lessly to confine it, and urged him to exalt himself, mani-
festly too soon, against powers manifestly too strong. It
was his strength when, purged and calmed in the stone
walls of the fortress of Ham, and concentrated by the
assurance of future triumph which those extraordinary
elections in 1848 promoted, Louis Napoleon found him-
self in a field wide enough for its exercise. .
But paramount to common sense as we then saw
the influence of this unswerving faith to be, we now
behold it making a vassal of truth. Hitherto it had
hoped to advance over reason; now it resolved to advance
over conscience. We have read some of his letters, and
heard some of his speeches: and we have seen the
elaboration of sentiment with which he falsely imposed
upon men a belief in the ardour of his patriotism or (for
it then meant the same thing) his republicanism. We have
seen how deceitfully he wiled the arms out of his oppo-
604 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
ments' hands before he dared to show his own. Believe
him, as we have before said—grant him the common
credence which guarantees the common business of life,
such credence as he so plaintively pleaded for, and Louis
Napoleon entered upon his presidential duties bound by
principle and affection more than by his oath to the
Support of republican institutions. And so, indeed, it
proved : bound by principle and affection very little, as
for his oath, though ratified over and over again by
voluntary declarations, it never was binding upon him at
all, and never could have been so assumed. º
We know that this is denied. The good faith of the
President at the time of his election is insisted upon by
many of his admirers, though others of more Imperialist
views are not too eager for its demonstration ; but the
factious conduct of the Assembly, its absurdities and con-
spiracies, is advanced as forcing the alternative—false-
hood to his oath or falsehood to the interests of his
country. “Society was sick at heart ; ideas of right and
wrong were dimmed; immorality knew no bounds; parties
were ready to tear each other in pieces; and anarchy,
emerging from this horrible chaos, was about to stalk
abroad.” Louis Napoleon broke his oath, and saved
society. So he defends himself—so his friends defend
him ; and very far they may go unchecked by denial.
For it is undeniable, we conceive, that the safety of
society was imminently threatened by the violence of
parties; that the Assembly was perfectly unequal to
meet such emergencies as any day might evolve ; more,
that by the very violence of the coup d'état, and by the
completeness of the despotism which succeeded it, society
was really redeemed out of anarchy and restored to order,
the history of France since that period leaves no excuse
for doubt. It may be an unwelcome and an ominous
truth, but it is true ; and one which it would be well for



CONCLUSION. 605
the future of France, perhaps, if the democrats, who have
not destroyed but only hidden their red caps there, were
to remember is referable not to any prince who may be
compelled to enforce at least some degree of despotism,
but to the people who make it a necessity. .
But granted every clause of this defence, and neither
morally nor politically is Louis Napoleon exculpated from
responsibility, or, as we conceive, from guilt. Is it neces-
sary to point, in the first place, to those small but sure
evidences, the imperial banquetings, the bestowal of orders,
the aides, officiers, and other such outrages upon the
simplicity that should studiously mark the life of a
republican president, in proof of the imperialist tendency
of his thoughts, if not of his aims? These are things
which the factions of a legislative body could not provoke,
though they might well provoke a legislative body to
faction. But putting them aside, and starting from the
fullest acknowledgment of the plots and conspiracies of
the Assembly, its harassing conduct towards himself, its
demoralising influence upon the country, and the necessity
for breaking it up and instituting some authority which
could make itself felt and respected—granting all this,
how far does it go to absolve the means which Louis
Napoleon used to effect those objects? We have before
suggested—what needed little suggestion, indeed—that
because a magistrate is threatened with political difficul-
ties, it does not logically follow that they are directed
against the exercise of his duties or the fulfilment of his
oath. Now, we nowhere remember it to have been said
or written that the factious opposition which the President
alleges to have been systematically employed against him
by the Assembly, was ever directed in contravention either
of his oath or of his duties. And if not so—as it needs
no proof that it was not, notwithstanding the declarations
so impudently false in his appeal to the country—how


606 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
much more effrontery than justice does that complaint
of factious conduct towards himself display!
And again, supported by six millions of voters, sup-
ported by the Constitution, and by an army which had
so lately, under Cavaignac, displayed the most emergetic dis-
position to uphold the laws and the officers of the republic
—it is reasonable to suppose that in these the President of
the Republic would have sought the means of quelling
the machinations of legislative partisans, whenever it
became necessary to do so for the safety of the State,
the redemption of his oath, and the consecration, not of
his power, but of his honour. These were the legitimate
means provided to his hand; and we must argue an
illegitimate purpose when these are forsaken, and new
ones, sopped in champagne, carefully gathered in imperial
progresses—such means as had to be earned by debauch-
ing the spirit of the soldiery on Satory plains and the
plains of St. Maur. Great public benefits are cheap at
individual loss; and terrible as were the scenes of the
2nd of December, they fade into comparative insigni-
ficance at the remembrance of what dire disorganisation
was thereby, in all human probability, nay almost to
certainty, prevented. But again their terror returns,
again the cry of blood from the ground becomes audible,
at the reflection that it was shed more to the baptism
of one faction than to the destruction of such anarchy as
would have resulted from the rest. Lawfully and with
dignity they might have been quelled by any man of so
powerful a will, of so cool a judgment, with a name
which in the eyes of its people would have gained new
lustre from its firm attachment to republican institu-
tions, and starting upon his duties with the acclamation
of 6,000,000 electors, and the support, if necesary, of
40,000 soldiers—if only he had been also a single-
minded and honest man. The object would then have
ConCLUSION. 607
been effected, we believe, with less slaughter—if even
there had been need of slaughter at all—certainly with
more honour. But he had not been in power a month
before his plans were drawn out, his course decided
upon and begun, and not easily to be turned aside. He
who denounced the conspiracies of the Assembly con-
spired: fostered his faction to the full, “returned it to
the barracks,” after the policy of Magnan on the 2nd of
December, and calmly awaited the surrender of the
other opposed and contending parties, or until it should
“finally form a compact mass which I could come up to
and fight with.” And, like Magnan, made merit of it.
That it was better that Magnan should defeat the
people than that the people should conquer Magnan,
(better for the people themselves, that is) we believe ;
that it was also preferable for Louis Napoleon to over-
throw the parties which threatened society rather than
that his despotic attempt should have been turned upon
him, we as firmly believe ; but that it was necessary
from the outset to conquer by such methods is charged
upon the conscience of Napoleon the Third, which should
be more disquieted by the dishonourable and bloody
means than consoled by the desirable ends, to which they
were only ostensibly though happily directed. .
There is something so fateful in the life of this man,
events have fallen in upon him so suddenly, so phenome-
mally, and of such vast consequence to France and all
Europe, that he is everywhere regarded with not un-
mingled curiosity. A real though latent and unacknow-
ledged anxiety attends all his movements, the nature of
which, in their silence, in the self-reliance with which they
are made, is eminently calculated to foster the feeling.
Looking back upon the past, the rapidity with which he
advances from an almost forgotten exile into the surprise
of the world as a rash man, into the laughter of the


608 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
world as an imbecile, into the scrutiny of the world as a
cunning man, into the astonishment of the world as a
bold, powerful, and sagacious man, with mysteries and
reserves which even his Ministers fail to penetrate—all
this produces upon the mind at first just such an impression
as the morning of the 2nd of December cast over Paris.
All the more remarkable is that spectacle, and mainly im-
pressive, from the aspect he wears through all the changes
of his fortune: colder and denser at every step, still with
some distant and unattained end brooding under his
heavy eyelids—impassive the moment before his arm is
raised, impassive the moment after. &
From the past of such a man we are compelled to turn
at once to the future, which must always look ominous
enough. From wonder wonder is to be gathered, from
uncertainty doubt, from phenomena expectation ; and
through these lenses not the politically timid alone search
the futurity of the Empire. “The Empire is peace " was
proclaimed by Napoleon the Third ; and again and again
his words have been taken up and repeated by his ad-
mirers, evidently with wonder at the discovery. “The
Empire is peace,” he proclaims; but for years and years he
has been proclaiming this also : that if the Divine Example
cannot lie, the representative of that Napoleonic Idea
whose fate is so nearly allied to His, can / He has been
proclaiming for years and years that his right hand knows
no tool so well as deceit, but with that works elaborately.
The Empire, however, may be peace, because the Emperor
may be wise : and eminently sagacious he has proved to
be, except in one point alone. ~.
For we must ever remember what, all through the
course of his life, has animated, or rather condensed, the
mind of the Emperor : condensed it against the reception
of any feeling which might militate against its despotism
—even against such a sense of honour as would discourage
* CONCLUSION. 609
falsehood. *It is, sincere and immitigable faith in his
destiny to re-awaken the glories of the Empire. Clear
through the whole course of his life runs this faith,
merging into itself all considerations: and we may rely
upon it, that if in exile and in prison, when none but
himself dared to hope for its consummation—if when
sunk in the depths of contempt, and with the sneers of
all Europe ringing past his ears, he still steadily clung to
it, and trusted in it almost affectionately—now that it has
So far been realised it will not be abandoned. It is this
conviction of his “destiny” to re-impose the spirit of a
defunct era which gives him that cold, phenomenal aspect
we have noticed in the past ; it is this which invests him
with so much conscious power in the present, and by this,
we believe, the future is to be read—whatever can possibly
be read at all. The “secret voice” which, ignoring reason,
urged the young Prince to the adventures of Strasbourg
and Boulogne, speaks yet : there it spoke despairingly,
and urged him to the best, to any effort. Strasbourg and
Boulogne were the best. Again, in the revolution of
empires and the instability of the French people, it may
be evoked desparingly ; all experience declares the proba-
bility; and the best effort then will terminate in a very
different affair to that which was wrecked at a breath on
the sands at Boulogne. It is from the promptings of
necessity, or from what he may conceive to be necessity
(and all know how necessities grow with the very growth
of prosperity), that Peace has most to fear. Nor would
there be anything unnatural in the fact, if the present
Emperor should be jealous of the power of which Europe
succeeded in depriving the past Emperor, and be resolved
to restore it by any opportunity. Such a feeling may be
deplored, and its results foreknown to be disastrous, but
it is one which could cause no astonishment or s
be condemned. That this feeling lives and reigns in the


. 2 R
how far it may be controlled there are none, C
is, however, we conceive, that he will go unwilli
death if he does not achieve such aggrandisement for
France, and such renown for the name of Napoleon, as
will cover the defeat of the Idea under “my uncle t
Emperor.” º
With two sentences worth remembrance we conclude a
ch which the necessarily brief limits of this book
we restricted. These sentences were spoken in the
Court of Peers, and are spoken in connexion wit
bject to which alone the Emperor has proved faith
signally faithful. º
“The Emperor, my uncle, preferred to abdicate the
Empire rather than accept the restricted frontiers which
would expose France to the insults and menaces in which
foreign nations to this day indulge. I have not lived a
single day forgetful of such lessons.”
“I represent before you a principle, a cause, and a
defeat. The principle, it is the sovereignty of the people;
the cause, it is that of the Empire; the defeat, Waterloo,
No, there is no disaccord between us!”
The former we regard as especially significan
herein, perhaps, is prophesied the field to which,
the torch of war be lighted, the armies of Fran gº
ultimately led, and the fate of the new Empire be set at
ºišštº . º º
2.
The marriage of the Emperor, the latest event in his
life of any importance, must not be omitted from this
chronicle. j .” §
to the S
2nd of January, 1853, the Emperor announced .
his intention of taking to himself the Coun-







































MPRESS EUGENIE.
THE E






concLUSION. 611
tess Téba, a Spanish lady of noble but not of royal
descent. The speech in which the announcement was
made was on many accounts remarkable, chiefly for the
* independence and self-reliance of its tone, for the per-
feet comprehension of the peculiar circumstances of his
position, and the policy of such an alliance under those
circumstances.
“The alliance which I contract is not in accordance with
the traditions of ancient policy, and therein is its advan-
tage. . . . The example of the past has left in the mind
of the people superstitious feelings. It has not forgotten
that for seventy years foreign princesses have mounted the
throne only to behold their race dispossessed and proscribed
by war or by revolution. One woman alone seemed to .
bring happiness and to live more than the others in the
memory of the people—and that woman, the modest and
good wife of General Bonaparte, was not the issue of royal
blood. It must, however, be admitted, that in 1810 the
marriage of Napoleon I, with Marie Louise was a great
event. It was a pledge for the future, a real satisfaction
to the national pride; as the ancient and illustrious branch
of the house of Austria, who had been so long at war with
us, was seen to intrigue for the alliance of the elected chief
of a new empire. . . .
“When in presence of old Europe one is borne on by
the force of a new principle to the height of ancient
dynasties, it is not by giving an ancient character to
one's escutcheon (envieillissant son blason), and by seeking
to introduce oneself at all costs into a family, that one is
accepted. It is rather by ever remembering one's origin,
by preserving one's own character, and by adopting
frankly in presence of Europe the position of parvenu:
a glorious title when one obtains it by the free suffrages
of a great people. Thus obliged to depart from prece-
dents followed to the present day, my marriage became a






















612 LOUIS NAPOLEON BONAPARTE.
private affair, and there remained only the choice of the
person, & : …
“She who has been the object of my preference is of
distinguished birth. French in heart, by education, by
the recollection of the blood shed by her father in the
cause of the Empire, she has, as a Spaniard, the advantage
of not having in France a family to whom it might be
necessary to give honours and fortune. Endowed with
all the qualities of the mind, she will be the ornament of
the throne; in the day of danger she would be one of its
courageous supporters. A Catholic, she will address to
Heaven the same prayers with me for the happiness of
France. In fine, by her grace and her goodness she will,
I have the firm hope, endeavour to revive in the same
position the virtues of the Empress Josephine.” .
Whether, however, the soundness of these conclusions
were not forced upon the Emperor is doubtful. Previous
to his engagement with Mdlle. Eugénie Montijo (Countess
Téba), matrimonial advances were made to more than one
royal family without success. * * *... . . . . . ;
The civil ceremony was performed at the Tuileries on
the evening of Saturday, the 29th of January, and rati-
fied by the Church on the following day with great
pomp. As yet the name alone of the Empress is inscribed
in history: by public opinion she is known as an imperial
and generous woman.

HISTORIC ILLUSTRATIONS.
TOMBS OF THE BONAPARTES.
THE ancient place of burial of the Bonaparte family, before their emigration
to Corsica, was Treviso, afterwards at Florence, the metropolis of Tuscany.
The following table shows the places of interment and time of death of Carlo
and Letitia, the parents of Napoleon, and most of their descendants. We
have made it as complete as possible:— - .
Name. Time of death. Burial-place.
1. CARLO Bon APARTE . . . . 1785 . St. Leu, near Paris.
2. TETITIA & %, . 1836 . Rome,
SONS,
3. Joseph * e * . 1844 . º -
. s: ( İHotel des Inva-
4. NAPOLEON & & 3. . 1821 . lides, Paris.
5. LUCIEN $ $ & . 1840 . Witerbo.
6. Louis . & * & . 1846 . St. Leu.
DAUGHTERS,
7. ELIZA . & & * . 1820 . Trieste.
8. PAULINE •. * g . 1825 , Florence.
9. CAROLINE . . . . 1839 . Florence.
GRANDCHILDREN.
10. NAPoiroN FRANCIs (King of Rome). 1832 . Vienna.
ll. NAPOLEON CHARLEs (son of Louis) . 1807 . St. Leu.
12. NAPOLEoN TOUIs (son of Louis) . 1831 , St. Leu.
13. CHARLOTTE (daughter of Joseph) . 1839 . Florence.
14. CHARLEs JEROME (son of Eliza) . 1833 . Rome.
15. ACHILLE MURAT (son of Caroline) . 1846 . Florida.
16. JEROME NAPOLEON (son of Jerome) . 1846 . Florence.
Josephine (first wife of Napoleon) died in 1814, and was buried in the
church of Ruel, Malmaison. Maria Louisa (his second wife) died at
Tarma in 1847, and was there buried. We have not heard that her
remains have been removed to the royal tomb of the Hapsburghs at
Vienna. Christine (first wife of Lucien) died 1801, and was interred at
Du Plessis, near Paris. Catharine of Wurtemberg (second wife of
Jerome) died at Florence in 1835. Julie (wife of Joseph) died at
Florence in 1845. Murat (ex-King of Naples) died in 1815, and was
interred at Pizzo, in Calabria. Cardinal Fesch died in 1839, and was
interred at Rome.


614 HISTORIC, ILLUSTRATIONS.
TOMBS OF THE BEAUHARNAIS FAMILY.
Name. Year of Death. Place of Burial.
FRANCOIS MARQUIs DE BEAUHARNAIs . 1819 . Paris,
ALEXANDER WIscount DE BEAUHARNAIs. 1794, . Paris.
JOSEPHINE, his wife, afterwards 1814 Church of Ruel,
married to Napoleon - * Malmaison.
EUGENE (son of Josephine) 4. . 1824 . Munich.
Horrºsse (daughter of Josephine) . 1837 . Cººl,
AUGUSTUs (son of Eugene,
married to Donna Maria, * . 1835 . Lisbon.
Queen of Portugal) -
CoMTE DE BEAUHARNAIs (uncle Pari
of Alexander and Francis) } . . . . . . failS.
COMTESSE FANNY DE BEAUHARNAIs
(wife of the above, and celebrated . 1813 Paris.
in the annals of Literature)
DUKE OF LEUGHTENBERG (son of Eugene,
married to Marie-Nicolaiwena, º 1852 . St. Petersburgh.
of Nicholas I. of Russia) - -
THE COUNTESS FANNY I) E BEAUHARNAIS.
The Countess Fanny de Beauharnais (daughter of Mouchard, Receiver-
General of the Finances in Champaigne), born in 1738, and died in 1813,
was a woman celebrated for her wit, her munificence, and her association
with literary contemporaries. Her taste for literature was displayed at an
early age, and when ten years old she composed verses; married at fifteen
years of age to the Comte de Beauharnais, an uncle of the husband of
Josephine. She found her sole amusement in the cultivation of literature;
and enjoying a considerable fortune, she wished, following the example of
Madame Geoffrin, to form a society of men who should owe to her their
reputation as literary men and great wits. She received into her society
the Abbé Mably, Bitaube, Dussauix, and others of high reputation. She
was arrested and confined during the Revolution. Being aunt to Josephine
and god-mother to Hortense, she found in the friendship of these ladies
ample compensation for the losses which she experienced during the Revo-
lution. She was the author of numerous poems, romances and plays. Her
latter days were dedicated to the pursuit of letters, and she died at Paris
regretted by all who had known her, and beloved for her benevolence and
sweetness of temper. Among her correspondents and friends were Woltaire,
Buffon, and Le Brun. . -

THE COUNTESS TXE LAWALETTE–EMILIE DE BEAUHARNAIS.
This lady, daughter of the Marquis François de Beauharnais, and niece of
Josephine, was educated at the school of Madame Campan, and at an early
age married Marie Chamans de Lavalette (afterwards Count), aide to Napo-
leon, with whom he served in the campaign of Italy, and afterwards
accompanied him to Egypt. After the establishment of the Consular
Government and of the Empire, Lavalette was made Count and a Com-
mander of the Legion of Honour, and for a time he had the administration
of the Post-office at Paris. On the second restoration of the Bourbons, he

HISTORIC ILLUSTRATIONS. 615
was condemned to death as an accomplice in the treason of Napoleon
against the royal authority. He escaped from prison, however, at the sug-
gestion and by the stratagem of his wife, being disguised in the dress of the
Countes, who had been permitted to visit him. He retired for a time to
Bavaria, residing with Eugene Beauharnais, and received a pardon from
Louis in 1822, and died in 1830. His devoted wife lost her reason soon
after his escape from prison, and we believe she has been deceased several
years.
NAPOLEON FRANCIS JOSEPH, DUKE OF REICHSTADT,
The following description of him was published in 1827, in a work entitled
“Austria as it is.” “The young Napoleon is an interesting youth, beauti-
fully formed, with the countenance and fine-cutlips of his father and the blue
eyes of his mother. He has not that marked, plain, and familiar ease of the
Austrian princes, who seem to be everywhere at home; but his demeanour is
more dignified, and noble in the extreme. He has an Arabian steed, which he
rides with a nobleness that gives the promise of as good horsemanship as that
for which his father was so celebrated. His escadron almost adore him; and
he commands with decision and a military eye, which prognosticates a future
ſy" 2 .
c $
The Duke left no will; in consequence of which his mother inherited his
property, the yearly income of which was nearly a million of florins impe-
rial. His funeral was attended with the same forms and honours as that
of an Archduke of Austria, and took place two days after his death; his
body having lain in state in the chapel of the Palace at Wiemma.
The following is the English of the Latin epitaph placed on his monument
by order of the Emperor of Austria.
“To the Eternal Memory of
Jose.P.H CHARLES FRANCIS, DUKE OF REICHSTADT,
Son of Napoleon, Emperor of the French, and Maria Louisa, Archduchess of
Austria. Born at Paris, March 20, 1811. Already in his cradle, he
was hailed by the title of King of Rome. He was endowed with
every faculty, both of body and mind. His stature was tall;
his countenance adorned with the charms of youth, and
his conversation full of affability. He displayed an
astonishing capacity for study, and the exercises
of the military art. Attacked by a pulmo-
nary disease, he died at Schoenbrunn,
near Vienna, July 22, 1832.”
SURVIVING MEMBERS OF THE BONAPARTE FAMILY, IN 1853.
[Joseph Bonaparte had no sons, but two daughters, one of whom married
Charles Lucien, survives.]

LINE OF LUCIEN-Residence, Rome.
CHARLES IUCIEN, Prince de Camino and Musignano (son of Lucien, by
Alexandrine)—born at Paris, May 24, 1803. Succeeded his father, as
Prince, June 30, 1840. He was President of the Constituent Assembly of
the Roman Republic, 1849, Married at Brussels, June 29, 1822, to his
COblSIII, -
616 HISTORIC ILLUSTRATIONS.
ZENAIDE CHARLOTTE JULIE, daughter of Joseph Bonaparte, and Julie-
Marie-Clary, born July 8, 1804.
CHILDREN OF THE ABOVE. -
º jºinincºme-N-ºwn. Prince de Musignano—born Feb. 18,
1
Lucien-Louis-Joseph-Napoleon—born November 15, 1828.
Julie-Charlotte-Zemaide-Pauline-Letitia-Désirée-Bartholomée—born June
6, 1830; married, August 30, 1847, to Alexandre del Gallo, Marquis de
Roccagiovine. -
Charlotte-Honorine-Josephine—born March 4, 1832; married October 4,
1848, to Comte Pierre Primolè. -
Marie-Désirée-Eugenia-Josephine-Philomene—born March 18, 1835.
Auguste-Amilié Maximilli Jacqueline—born November 9,
Napoleon-Gregoire-Jacques-Philippe—born February 9, 1839.
Bathilde-Aloise-Leonie—born November 26, 1842.
:
i
WIDOW OF L'UCIEN BONAPATRTE.
Alexandrine-Laurence de Bleschamp, Princess Dowager di Camino—born
at Calais, in 1778. She was the second wife of Luciem, and they were
married in 1803, when she was widow of M. de Jouberton.
ONLY SURVIVING CHILD OF LUCIEN BONAPARTE,
By his first wife, Christine Boyer, who died in 1801, viz.:-
Charlotte—born May 13, 1796; now the widow of Prince Gabrielli of Rome.
They were married in 1815.
CHILDREN OF LUCIEN,
By his second wife, Alexandrine-Laurence de Bleschamp :
Charles-Lucien, Prince of Camino—before mentioned.
Letitia—born December 1, 1804; married to Thomas Wyse of Waterford,
Ireland (Catholic), Member of the British Parliament.
Louis-Lucien—born January 4, 1813. .
Pierre-Napoleon—born September 12, 1815. He was member of the late
National Assembly of the French Republic. }
Antoine—born October 31, 1816. - -
. Maria—born October 12, 1818; married Wincent Valentine de Canino,
Deputy of the late Roman Republic, and Chargé du Portfeuille des
Finances, in May, 1849. - -
7. Constance—born January 30, 1823. Nun in the Convent of the Sacred
Heart at Rome. -
:
LINE OF LOUIS,
Charles-Louis-Napoleon, Emperor of the French (son of Louis, ex-King of
Holland, by Hortense Beauharnais, daughter of Josephine)-born at Paris,
April 20, 1808, Elected Deputy of the National Assembly from three
different Departments, 1848. Elected President of the French Republic,
December, 1848. Proclaimed Emperor, by the votes of the people,
December, 1852. - - * ... . .:

HISTORIC ILLUSTRATIONS. 617
LINE OF JEROME,
1. JEROME BONAPARTE, brother of the Emperor Napoleon—born in Cor-
sica, November 15, 1784. King of Westphalia from December 1, 1807,
to October 26, 1813. Duke of Montfort, in 1815. By decree of De-
cember 23, 1848, named General of Division and Governor of Hotel
des Invalides. President of the Senate of France, in 1852. Jerome
was married at Baltimore, Maryland, December 27, 1803, to Elizabeth
Patterson, daughter of a merchant.
Their son—JEROME NAPOLEON BONAPARTE–was born at Camberwell,
near London, in 1805, and now resides in Baltimore. He married a
Baltimore lady, by whom he has two sons; one a graduate at West Point.
Jerome (divorced by decree of the Emperor, in April, 1805), married
- Frederica-Catherine-Sophie, daughter of the King of Wurtemberg.
StJRVIVING CHILDREN }}Y THIS SECONT) M.A.R.R.I.A.G.E.
1. Mathilde-Letitia-Wilhelmine, Princess of Montfort—born at Trieste,
May 27, 1820; married in 1841 to Prince Anatole Demidoff, of Russia.
She now resides in Paris.
2. Napoleon-Joseph-Charles-Paul—born at Trieste, September 9, 1822. He
was a member of the late National Assembly of the French Republic.
|Jerome Napoleon, eldest son of Jerome, by this Wurtemberg marriage, was
born in 1814. He was remarkable for his resemblance to the Emperor,
and died in 1846.] .
LINE OF MURAT.
Surviving children of Joachim Murat, late King of Naples, by Caroline
onaparte—sister of Napoleon. They were married in January, 1800,
and left two sons and two daughters. Napoleon-Achille, the eldest
son, resided many years in Florida, and died in Europe, 1847. He
married a daughter of Byrd Willis, Esq., Navy Agent, Pensacola. She
was a grand-niece of General Washington.
1. Napoleon-Lucien-Charles—born May 16, 1803. He married Miss
Frazier of South Carolina, and, with his wife, now resides in Paris. ,
2. Letitia-Joseph—born April 25, 1802; married to Count Pepoli of
Bologna. -
3. Louisa-Julie-Caroline—born March 22, 1805; married to Count Rasponi
of Ravenna.
LINE OF ELIZA,
Grand Duchess of Tuscany (by Felix Bacchiochi, Duke of Lucca, &c.)
Eliza—born June 3, 1806; married to Count Camarata of Ancona.
(Her son Charles Jerome, born July 3, 1810, was killed by a fall from his
horse, at Rome, 1833.)
IINE OF EUGENE BEAUHARNAIS.
The following are the children of Maximillien-Joseph, Duke of Leuchtenberg,
son of Eugene by the Princess of Bavaria. (The Duke of Leuchtenberg
succeeded his brother, Duke Augustus, who married Donna Maria, Queen
of Portugal, and died March 28, 1835. The Duke of Leuchtenberg held
various important offices in the Russian Empire, and was married §§ 2,

618 HISTORIC ILLUSTRATIONs.
of Russia, who survives him. He died in
1. Princess Marie-Maximillianowna–born October 4, 1841.
2. Prince Nicholas-Maximillianowitch—born August 4, 1843.
3. Princess Eugenie-Maximillianowna–born April 1, 1845.
4. Prince Eugene-Maximillianowitch—born February 8, 1847.
1839, to the Grand-Duchess *Hºº daughter of Nicholas 1.
1852. . }
oTHER CHILDREN or Eugene BEAUHARNAIs,
1. Joseph INE–Queen of Sweden—wife of Oscar Bernadotte (Joseph-
Frangois OsgaR. T., King of Sweden and Norway.) She was born
March 14, 1807; married June 19, 1823. The children by this mar-
riage are— ---. . . . º --
I. Charles-Louis-Eugene, Prince Royal—born May 3, 1826.
2. Frangois-Gustave-Oscar—born June 18, 1827.
3. Oscar-Frederic—born Jan. 21, 1829. .
4. Charlotte-Eugene-Auguste-Amelie-Albertine—born April 24, 1830.
5. Nicholas-Auguste—born August 24, 1831. . §
The mother of King Oscar is a sister of the late wife of Joseph Bonaparte,
and daughter of M. de Clary, merchant of Marseilles. She married Jean
Bernadotte, then a French General, August 16, 1798, and elected Crown
Prince of Sweden in 1810. They were crowned at Stockholm, May 11,
1818, where she still resided in 1850, viz.:-
Eugenie-Bernardine-Désirée, Queen Dowager of Sweden—born November 8,
1781; became widow of Charles John (Bernadotte), March 8, 1844.
2. Amelie-Auguste-Eugenie-Napoleonne–Empress Dowager of Brazil, and
Tuchess of Braganza (Daughter of Prince Eugene Beauharnais)—born
July 31, 1812; married Don Pedro I, Emperor of Brazil, October 17,
1829. He died September 24, 1834. --- §
By this marriage there was one daughter, viz.:-Donna Marie-Amelie-
Auguste-Eugenie, &c.—born December 1, 1831.
3. Theodolinde-Louise-Eugenie-Napoleonne–born April 13, 1814; married
February 8, 1841, to Count William of Wurtemburg. §
Napoleon the Third is of the Beauharnais family, by his mother Hortense.
The Princess Stephanie de Beauharnais was a niece of Josephine; but her
maiden name was Tascher de la Pagerie. She took the name of Beau-
harnais, when adopted by Napoleon and Josephine. She was born 1789;
married the Grand Duke of Baden, April 8, 1806, and became his widow, :
December 8, 1818. She resides at Manheim, in Baden, and has three
daughters married into noble families.
FINIs.
§ . London: :- - - §
salisbury, BEEton, AND Co., PRINTERs, Bouvenie ST, FLERT ST.









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