CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FROM S.H.Burnhafli Cornell University Library DC 110.S35 1860 Memorable scenes in French history 924 028 18 752 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924028181752 MEMORABLE SCENES FEEICH HISTORY THE ERA OF CARDINAL RICHELIEU, TO THE PRESENT TI;ME. EMBKACINQ THE PROmXENI EVENTS OP THE LAST THEEE CENTURIES, WITH INCIDENTS IX THE LIVES OF CARDINAL RICllELIKU, LOUIS XV. LOUIS XVt. MARIA ANTIONETTi; LOUIS XVTL MIRAEEAU, ROBESPIERRE, NAPOLEON I. IIARIA LOUISA, NAPOLEON IL AND NAPOLEON IIL ETO. SAMUEL M. SMITCKER, /^X-^-. '.' AUTHOE OF "court AND REIGN OF OATHATIINR H." *' EMPEROR NICHOLAS L ' LIFK OF "alexander hamilton,*" ** auctic explorations and discoveries," "History of tue mop.mons," etc., etc. NEW YOEK: C. M. SAXTON, BARKER & CO., No. 2 5 PARK ROW 1860. ' i': ' (Wd'jl.io Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year one thousand eiglit hundred and fifty-sevnn, BY MILLER, OETON & CO., In the Clerk's Office of tlie District Court of the Nortliern District of Now York. PEEFACE. The career of conquest, suffering, and glory wliich France has run in modern times is without a parallel in history. She may never have deserved, and she may not now deserve, the title and dignity of being the great- est of nations. Other communities may have been more powerful, more populous, more opulent, and more worthy of admiration and esteem, than she. They may have made greater discoveries in science ; they may have effect- ed more important reforms in politics and religion ; they may have produced nobler achievements in the fine arts ; they may have given birth to bards who have sung in loftier strains of poetry, and to philosophers who have descended to profo under depths of speculation. But yet, if the career of France were blotted out from the history of our world, it would produce a greater chasm and a more sensible loss, than would be felt by the elimination of the records of any other nation. Hence it is, that the peculiar interest which French history possesses has led to the production of innumera- ble publications on the subject ; yet it is probable that no class of descriptive works command the same degree of general interest as those which refer to French history. There is a superior charm connected with the events which have occurred in France during the last two cen- turies, which seems to be inexhaustible, to be ever fresh IV PREFACE. and new. The great French nation groaning under the tyranny of an ancient, iUnstrious, but pernicious dynasty ; struggling desperate!}^ for the possession of political lib- erty — a thing then unknown in Europe ; overwhelmed by the bloody surges of a mighty revolution ; then passing in the vain search for peace and security from one tran- sient foi'm of government to another, till at length it lay unresistingly beneath the giant grasp of the triumphant Corsican ; then crushed by a hostile continent in arms, and cast adrift again on the wide and stormy sea of politi- cal adventure ; and once more, after many strange vicis- situdes, resting as it now does, in stately and resplendent repose beneath the heir to the name and fortunes of the " Child of Destiny ; " — such are the imposing scenes pre- sented m modern times by the checkered history of France. In the following pages I have endeavored to describe some of these Memorable Scenes. I have avoided as much as possible the beaten track generally pursued by writers on these subjects ; and by exploring the recesses of old and musty tomes, not always accessible to the reader, to reproduce some scenes and narrate some events which have long been buried from general observation by the literary rubbish which surrounded them, I have given prominence to such events and to such epochs in French history as seemed to me to possess the greatest interest and importance ; yet as to the propriety of the selections made, there must necessarily exist, among readers of different tastes, a great diversity of opinion. S. M. S. CONTENTS. INTEODTJCTION. BRIEF SURVEY OF FRENCH HISIORT. Page. Gaul'vanquishod by Julias CsBsar, 13 The R.ignof Clovis 14 France divided nt his Death, 14 Kise of tlie Carlnviniun Dynasty, 15 CIiarlerna2ne"s Empii'e, , 15 Husrh Capet a^c^nds the Throne, 16 Louis the Ninth, 16 Accession of Charles VII 17 Louis Xr IT Francis I IT Henry IV. tlie first Bourbon Prince IS CHAPTER I. FRANCK U.XDER THE ADMINISTRATION OF RICHELIEU. State of France nnder Henry IV 19 Influence of Uielielieu's Adtninistration, 20 Birth or liicheheu, 21 Mar.v De Medici 21 Deatli of Henvy IV 22 Mary de iMedici becomes Quei^n Regent, 22 Fir.^t public appearance of Kiclielieu, 23 His vigoi-ous Adtninistration, 25 Dul;e of Iiackiii;rhain 27 Sieire of La Koeholle, 28 Quarrel of Kiclielieu and Mary de Medici, 30 Character of Mary De Medici, 31 Siclinessof Louis XlII S3 Consjiiracy Against Kichelieu, 34 Inter\ iew between Mary de Medici and Riclielieu, 35 Perplexity of the King, 37 Richelieu triuinplis over the Cabal, 88 Bassompierre's Imprisonment, 39 VI CONTENTS. Page. Expulsion of Mary de Medici from France 40 Her Miserable Death, 42 Duke of Orleans, 43 The Filles de St. Marie, 46 Birth of Louis XIV 4T Father Joseph's Death, 49 Cinq-Mars, 50 His Conspiracy against Eichelieu, "^^ 61 Marion De I'Orme, El Execution of Cinq-Mars, 53 Death of Eichelieu, 54 His peculiar Mental Qualities, 55 His Dramatic Failures, 6T CHAPTER II. MORALS AND MANNERS BEFORE THE REVOLUTION. Louis XIV 60 De Choiseul's Ministry, 61 The Jesuits, 62 Their Suppression in 1762, 63 Court of Louis XV 64 Origin of Madame Pompadour, 65 Her Influence and Arts, 66 Her Vindictiveness, 67 Her Death 68 Origin of Madam Du Barry, 69 Condition of Louis XV 70 ■ Luxury of Madam Du Barry, '71 Death of Louis XV. 72 The state of France, 73 Morals in the Church, -74 Morals of the Nation, 75 Birth of Louis XVI 77 His Mental Qualities, 78 Youth of Louis XVI 79 His Amusements, SO His Eigorous Conduct, 81 Marriage vfith Maria Antoinette 83 Benevolence of Maria Antionette, 84 The Count de Provence, 85 The Count d'Artois 86 The Duke de Chartres, 87 His Excesses, 88 Consequences to Louis XVI 99 COIsTENTS. VU CHAPTER III. OPENING SCENES OF THE FIRST REVOLUTION. Paoe. Ministry of Turgiit 92 Ministry of Neci^er, 93 Ministry of Calonne, 94 Louis Summons tlie States-General 95 Else of Modern Demagogues, 96 The States-General Elected, 97 Its First Assemblai^e, 98 The Procession to Notre Dame, 99 Tlie Opening Sermon, 100 Demands of the Tiers Etat, 102 Tlie Title Adopted, 103 Misplaced Decision of tl)e King, 104 The New Constitution, 105 The Bastille, 106 The Attact on the Bastille, lOT The Garrison Capitulates IDS Recall of Necker 110 Acts Passed by the Assembly, Ill Bright Side of the Uevolution, 112 Faults of the Queen, 113 Joseph IL visits Paris, 114 Orgies of the Trianon, 115 Distinguislied Impostors, 118 Their Mysterious Tricks, 117 Cardinal De Rohan 118 The Diamond Necklace 119 Adroitness of Lamoth, 120 •Effect of the Intrigue, 121 Increasing DitBculties, 122 Triumph of Mirabcau 128 CHAPTER IV. TERRIBLE POWER OF ROBESPIERRE AND THE JACOBINS. Else of PLobespierre, 126 His Eesemblance to Demosthenes, l-i? The Emigrants and Priests, 129 Decrees of the Assembly, 130 Else of Doumonriez, 131 Insults offered to the Queen, 182 Banterre and his Mob, 133 Jacobin Pantomines, 134 The Rabble in the Palace, l^S vni CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. LOUIS XVI. AT THE BAR OF THE NATIONAL CONVENTION. Page. Scene in the Champ de Mar?, 137 Propcisal for tlie King's Escape, 188 The King Declines it, 139 TheGathei-ingof the Storm, 140 The Marseillais, 141 The Mob Approaches the Palace, 142 Kosiilution of the Queen, 143 Louis Repairs to the Assembly, 145 The Destruction of the Palace, 14T Decree of Dethronement Passed, 148 Tlie Court Abolislied 149 Tl)e New Government 150 The Koyal Family in the Temple, 151 ILabits of the Royal Prisoners, 162 Trial "f Louis Proposed 153 Trial of Lou is Decreed, 154 The Royal Family Separated, 165 Louis A[ipears before his Judges, 156 His Arraignment, 158 His Counsel, 109 CHAPTER VI. THE DOWNNALL OF THE -ANCIENT MONARCHY. Speech of Robespierre, 162 The Decree of Guilty, 168 Yote upon the King's Panisltmeat, 164 The Decree of Deatli, 166 Louis Learns his Fate, 16T Their Intense Grief, ITl Louis receives the Communion, 172 CHAPTER Vn. DEATH OF THE ROYAL MARTYRS, LOUIS XVL AND XVIL Louis Ascends the Scaffold, 174 His Death, 175 Will of Louis XVI 177 Charges ag."iinst the Queen, 179 Death of Maria Antoinette 180 The Dauphin of Kranco, 1 33 COJS'TEXTS. \X Page. fiiiiinn witliilraws from tlie TempK", 184 Di-:ith 01' tliu Princess Klizabeti 1S5 lliiniil C'onilttiiiB of Hie Dauphin 186 Tisit of Laurent, 18T Death of the Danpliin 190 Mysterious Music, 191 • CHAPTER VIII. THE FALL OF ROBESPIERRE AND THE MOUNTAIN. Growth of Eobespiorre's Power, 193 Awful State of France 194 Kevolutionarj Scenes, 195 Madam Tallien, 19T Conspiracy Against Kobespierre, 193 Speed) of Tallien, 199 F.iibespierre Arrested, 200 Terror in Paris, 202 Eohespierre Attempts Suicide, 203 His Execution, 204 Piesnlts of the PiCign of Terror, 205 State of France, 206 Establishment of the Directory, 208 CHAPTER IX. NAPOLEON'S EXPEDITION TO EGYPT. Napoleon's Brilliant Conceptions, 210 The Descent on Enjiland, 211 Capture of Alexandria, 214 The State of that City 215 The March in the Desert, 216 The Nile, 21T Battle of the Pyramids, 219 Napoleon's lieigu in Cairo 220 P,atlleof theNile 221 Kvplii>ion of the L'Orient, 223 P.iot in Cairo, 224 Tn^':i>ion of Syria, 225 Four 'I housand Prisoners Shot, 226 Mi-L'e of Acre, 227 Defeat of Napoleon 228 His Return to Franca, 229 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER X. MARIA LOUISA, AND THE COURT OF ST. 3L0UD. Page. Napoleon's Series of Victories, 232 Maria Louisa's Opinion of N.Tpoleon, 233 Napoleon's Divorce from Josephine, 2.34 Josepiiine's Appearance, 235 Midnight Scene in the Palace, 236 Napoleon's Second Marriage, 287 Novel Scheme of Berthier, 239 Bierthier's Keward, 241 The Splendor of Napoleon's Court, 242 Its Heroes and Beauties, 244 Its Artists and Savans, 245 Birth of the King of Pvome, 248 Madam De Montesqnioii, 251 Death of the King of Eoine, 253 CHAPTER XI. EXPEDITION OF NAPOLEON IN RUSSIA. Magnitude of the Enterprise, 2.^5 Splendid Scenes at Dresden, , 256 P.assaie of the N iemen 227 Napoleon at Vitepsk, 259 His Painful Suspense, 2C0 Napoleon at Smolensko, 262 Siege of Suiolensko, 263 Ketreat of tlie Paissians, 264 Borodino, 266 Coinnieno«n:ient of the Battle, 267 TheFury ofthe Conliict 2''S The Great Central Eedoubt, 269 The 'Victory of the French, 210 Immense loss of the Victory, 271 The Field of Battle 272 llesolutiou to Burn Moscow, 273 Nnpnicon's Euti'ance into Moscow, 275 Napoleon's First Night in Moscow, 277 Moscow in Flames, 278 Knpoleon's Efforti to Negotiate, 280 The Ketreat Begins 281 jlornirsof tlie Ketreat •2g4 Kapoleor nf Smolensko 2^5 Napoleon Deserts his .\.rmy, tiSH Results of the E::;icdition, 2S9 Napoleon Reaches Paris, 290 Napoleon at Elba, 291 CONTENTS. Xi CHAPTER XII. NAPOLEON DURING THE HUNDRED DATS. Page. The Congress of Vienna, 293 NH]ioleon finil Madam Walewski, 294 Madam Walewski', 295 Napoleiin Embarks for Franco, 296 The March to Grenoble, 29T Napoleon at Lyons, 299 His Reception at tlie TuiHei'ies, 301 First Prool's of Treachery, 802 European Conspiracy against Napoleon, 808 Sum Total of their Armies 804 Desperate Nature of the Conflict, 805 His Immense Activity, 807 New Constitution Proclaimed, 308 Napoleon joins his Army, ,., 811 His Address to the Troops 812 The Combataots Approach each other, 818 TheB.attle of Ligny 815 Last Victory of Napoleon, 317 The Battle of Quartre-Bras, 818 The Battle of Waterloo, 320 Desperate Heroism of the Combatants, 823 The Charge of the Old Guard, 824 The Imperial Guard Eecoil, 828 Total Defeat of Napoleon, 82T Napoleon Returns to Paris, 828 Movements of the Allies, 880, Napoleon at Malmaison, 881 Return of Louis XVIII. to Paris, 882 Final Disposal of Bonaparte 888 CHAPTER XIII. EXILE OF NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. Appearance of St. Helena, 884 bitufllion of Longwood, 886 X\api>leon's Protest 83T Apprehensions of Europe's Monarchs, 838 Xap'ileon's Fee'ings in E.^iJe, 339 Miiisnres of Sir Hudsim I. owe, 340 N;i'!ok-on's Hatred of his Jailor, 842 The Modern Mecca, 844 Proposals of Escape, 845 XU CONTENTS. Pagb. Napoleon's Sicknesa, 84(1 Napoleon's Will, 347 He Prepares for Death, ■. S43 He EeceJves Extreme Unction, 849 Jle Becomes Delirious, 850 Death of Napoleon, 851 His Eemains Kemoved to France, 852 Eeturn of Louis 5VIII 853 Louis Phillipe, 854 CHAPTER XIV. NAPOLEON III. EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH. Parentage of Napoleon III 856 Napoleon III. at Arenemterg, 887 He Conspires against Louis Phillipe, 8^8 Affair of Strasburg 859 His Sojourn in New York, 360 Hi.s Exile in England 861 The Prince Imprisoned at Ham, 363 He Eesolves to Escape, 864 He is elected a Eepresentative, 865 He is Elected President, 866 His Talents as a Euler 86T Causes of Coup d'Etat 868 Necessity of the Measure, 369 Incidents of -tlie Coup d'Etat, 370 Necessary Loss of Life, 871 Submission throughout France, 872 Louis Napoleon's Confederates, 873 Marshal St. Arnaud, 874 Louis Napoleon as Emperor, 377 The Imperial Marriage, 878 Qualities of the Empress, 379 Alliance between England and France, 8S0 Birth ofthe Imperial Prince 8S1 His Probable Destiny, 382 The Peace of Europe 8S3 Louis Napoleon's Policy, 884 Conclusion, 385 MEMORABLE SCENES. mTRODUCTION. A BRIEF SUKVEY OF FRENCH HISTORY. The triumphant arms of Julius Caesar vanquished the inhabitants of the beautiful and fertile clime of ancient Gaul, about fifty years before the birth of Christ ; and with their subjugation to the Roman yoke they also ac- quired a degree of civilization and historical importance which they never before possessed, but which, fi-om that remote period untU the present, have continued to increase with the progress of ages. In the year 420 the Franks, a free and warlike race who dwelt in the vicinity of the Rhine and the Weser, made an irruption into Gaul ; strove to subdue the still preva- lent power of Rome, and to wrest the scepter of the coim- try from her grasp. This first attempt proved unsuccess- ful; but in 451 the Franks finally conquered the inhabi- tants of Gaul, after defeating the formidable armies of Attila, the king of the Huns, at the bloody battle of Cha- lons. Meroveus, the leader of the victorious Franks, then established his capital on the spot now occupied by Paris. He fixed his power peiinanently in the land of the van- quished Gauls ; and he became the founder of an illustrious dynasty of princes, since known in history as that of the Merovinia* kings. 14 INTRODUCTION. Under Clovis the Great, the power of Imperial Rome was entirely and permanently banished from the Frank territory. He defeated the Roman general Syagrius, in 486, at the great battle of Soissons. That monarch also determined to enlarge his territory. His character was warlike and cruel ; but he was not undeserving of the praiee of a great conqueror. He subdued the inhabitants of Bretagne, the Alemanni on the Rhine, and the Visigoths who inhabited the fertile region which lay between the Pyrennees and the Garonne. Having been successful in all his ambitious aims, he rested from the anxious toils of war, and became a christian, in accordance with the fashion of those times ; and in fulfillment of the vow which he had made, to worship the God of his wife Clotilda, if in the end he was victorious over all his foes. He was baptized with great pomp and ceremony by St. Remi, at Rheims, in the year 496. He was there anointed with the miracu- lous oil, reputed to have been sent down from heaven by means of a dove. From the period of the conversion of Clovis the Great, France became numbered among the catalogue of christian nations. At the death of Clovis, his royal patrimony was divided between his four sons. Childebert, to whose share fell the kingdoms of Paris, Orleans and Soissons, is considered as the successor of Clovis. Clotaire II., an indolent and voluptuous prince, threw the whole burden of empire on the shoulders of his miaisters. To these Maires du Palais he intrusted absolute power. The consequence was- that, after possessing the substance of authority during several 'generations, these officers ambitiously aimed, also, at the acquisition of its name and titles. They made themselves INTUODUCTIOX. 15 independent of the sovereign ; and seized the kingdoms of Austrasia, of Neustria, and of Burgundy. In these prov- inces they ruled with the title and prerogatives of inde- pendent kings. The most eminent of this line of usurpers was Pepin. His son Charles Martel, increased by his warlike exploits the power and celebrity of his race. His son Pepin JLe Bref, founded the illustrious Carlovingian dynasty, in 751. Under the reign of his successor, the peerless Charlemagne, the empire of the Franks attained its meridian splendor. He was a great conqueror, a wise legislator, and a revered saint. His empire, obtained partly by inheritance, partly by conquest, and partly by treaty, extended from the Ebro to the Elbe and the Danube ; from the Northern sea to the Mediterranean and the Adriatic; including France, Germany, part of Spain, Hungary and Bohemia, some provinces of Dalmatia, and Italy, as far as the confines of Naples. Out of the dis- jointed wrecks of the falling emj^ire of ancient Rome Charlemagne constructed a consolidated cluster of do- minions, equal in magnitude and power to that possessed by Augustus himself. The vast monarchy of Charlemagne descended to his son, Louis le Debounaire ; but its unwieldy fabric fell to pieces, as soon as it passed into his feeble and trembling grasp. By the treaty of Verdun in 843, the crowns of France, Germany, and Italy were wisely separated from each other ; and the youngest son of Louis, Charles the Bald, became the first monarch of the separate and independent king- dom of France. This second^dynasty continued on the throne during a hundred years ; but this was an ignoble period of French 16 INTRODUCTION. history, and its most important incidents consisted in fierce and bitter struggles which took place between the kings, and their turbulent and refractory nobles. In 987 Hugh Capet ascended the throne, and became the founder of the third, or Capetian dynasty, which has in succeeding ages inherited the possession of an inse- cure crown. But the e\ils of the feudal system, which then existed in all their excess in France, distracted the nation for many generations with bloody and destructive wars. The power of some of these petty princes and feudal lords may be inferred from the fact that, in the, twelfth century, one of them possessed the sovereignty of sixteen of the present departments of France. Anoth- er possessed that of seven. A third held six. The whole south of France belonged to a number of feudal lords ; and throughout the kingdom the audacious power and in- dependence which they arrayed against the supremacy of the sovereign, indicated that the authority of the lat- ter was held by a very insecure tenure. The influence of the feudal nobihty was at length broken by the energetic measures adopted by Louis IX. The introduction of written laws and statutes by that mon- arch ; the use of letters of nobility by Philip 11. ; and the establishment of representatives of the people in a delib- erative assembly, by Philip IV., all tended to dimmish the supremacy of feudalism throughout the nation. In 1420 France was invaded by Henry V., king of Eno-. land. He mduced the imbecile Charles VI. to appoint him his heir, and to give him his daughter Catherine in marriage. But Charles himself survived the English as- pirant, and at his own death the crown descended to the INTRODUCTION. 17 infant son of Henry V., to the exclusion of the dauphin, who had assumed the title of Charles VII. A bloody civil war was the result of this ambitious rivalry ; but victory was at length won to the standards of the dau- phin; the English were banished from the territory of France, except in the fortified cities of Calais and Guienne ; and the name and services of Joan of Arc were rendered immortal in the annals of heroism, patriotism, and virtue. After the accession of Charles VII., all the institutions of France, and the measures of the government, tended toward the establishment of the regal power. He first among the monarchs of France, maintained a standing army. He adroitly increased, by purchase and by forfeit- ure, the extent of the crown lands, until they included a not inconsiderable portion of the French territory. He first undertook to impose taxes without the consent of the states-general, or the concurrence of the feudal lords. Under the stern scepter of Louis XI. despotism in France became more cruel and more absolute than it had ever been before. He became an eminent example of tyranny and deceit.* At the death of Charles VIII. the crown passed from the possession of the Valois branch of the house of Capet ; and by the accession of Louis XII. in 1498, the Orleans division of that illustrious family as- cended the throne. With Francis I., in 1515, \h& second house of the Valois Capetians resumed the sovereignty of France. During this period, one of the darkest in the annals of history, the nation was convulsed and scourged with endless wars, both poUtical and religious. France • His favorite maxim was : Dissimuler c'est regner. 2 18 INTRODUCTION. was deluged with human blood. The persecutions which the Protestants, or Huguenots, were compelled to endure, have forever stained the history of the nation, with inef- faceable infamy and disgrace. These cruelties at length culminated on the memorable and bloody eve of St. Bartholomew ; when thousands of the best and bravest citizens of France were massacred under the direction of Charles IX. and his sangmnary mother, Catherine de Medici. Henry IV.' was the first Bourbon prince who ascended the throne of the Capets. His auspicious reign began in 1589. He put an end to the religious wars which, for so many disastrous years, had desolated France. He pro- claimed the celebrated and beneficent edict of Nantes, which guaranteed to the Protestants the full exercise and enjoyment of their reUgion. The period of his reign in- troduces us to that more memorable era in French history, when greater men and more absorbing incidents appear upon the scene ; and demand a more minute survey of the remarkable qualities which they exhibited, and of the important and permanent results which they produced. CHAPTER I. FRANCE UNDEE THE ADMINISTEATION OF CAEDHfAL EICHELIEtJ. The illustrious name of Richelieu is intimately connect- ed with the power and glory of the French monarchy. Before his accession to his high place, France had been de- graded fi'om the honorable eminence which she occupied at the death of Henry IV., to poverty, imbecility, and con- tempt. The vast treasures which that monarch had ac- cumulated, and had left in his coffers at the period of his decease, had been lavishly squandered djiring the regency of his widow, Mary de Medici. The court and the nation had become impoverished. The fierce contests which raged between the princes of the royal family and the nobles ; the insatiable rapacity of the courtiers ; and the ambitious and jealous caprices of the queen-regent, had thrown France into a lamentable state of prostration and misery. The monarchy possessecfno firm basis of power. Endless dissensions distracted the councils of the minis- ters, unprincipled aspirants after power and wealth crowd- ed all the avenues to the throne, and harassed those who held the feeble reins of government, with plots, intrigues, and, cabals. The favorites of the court, and even nobles of high and honorable birth, exhibited the most grasjDing and unblushing cupidity. They created new oflices and franchises. They levied toUs on the public highways and on private edifices. They devised new taxes and imposts. 20 INFLUENCE OF RICHELIEU'S ADMINISTRATION. All France, indeed, seemed to have been given up to pil- lage and plunder; while the multitude of the offenders ap23eared to secure the immunity of each. The strong mmd of Richelieu discerned the intricate and inveterate nature of those evils. His powerful arm at length fell with a crushing blow on the tottering fabric of the feudal system in France, and swept it away. On the ruins of that system, and interwoven with the ascending and magnificent proportions of the structure of kingly power which he reared, he also created the leading feat- ures and outlines of the gorgeous edifice of modern French civihzation. In truth, his intellectual character was as great as his influence was powerful. He was as inflexi- ble as he was sagacious. He was as persevering as he was daring. He was .-is vindictive and revenge- ful as he was ambitious. He was as unscrupulous and unprincipled as he was fertile in resources. He remained as undismayed in the midst ox* dangerous conspiracies and deadly plots against his life and power, as he Avas com- prehensive in his plans of conquest, and zealous for the aggrandizement of his own glory, and the glory of his king, which he cherished with a love second only to that which he entertained for himself. ] lis remarkable career forms a great epoch in French history. It stands forth promi- nently, as one of the collossal beacon-lights which remain towering and glittering through the gloom of the past ; and in the wide waste of by-gone ages, no period can be named which looms up with more solemn and impressive grandeur to our view, than his. It was he who made France the most important coimtry in Europe, during the period of his ministry. He rendered the court of Louis BIRTH AND YOUTH OF RICHELIEU. 21 XIII. the great focus of political power and interest throughout that continent. And when he died, he had prepared the way for the gorgeous reign of Louis XIV. which succeeded ; during which, the splendor of the French monarchy attained its unsurpassed, and even its unequaled, zenith. Aemand du Plessis Richelieu, was born of a noble family, at Paris, in 1585. At an early period his atten- tion was directed toward the army, but afterward to the church, as the most propitious theater of his future career. In pursuance of this latter expectation, he became a stu- dent of the Sorbonne, in 1607, where he completed the usual course of ecclesiastical study. He then entered the priesthood. During this early period of his life he was remarkable for his intelligence, his wit, and his gallantry. Neither his prudence nor his religious profession prevented him from indulging in licentious adventures, to the ex- cessive and shameful degree fashionable at that period, among all classes in France. But these excesses did not prevent his rapid promotion in the church, for partly through the influence of his family, and partly through his own successful and skUlful intrigues, he was consecrated bishop of Lu9on, at the earliest period of his age permit- ted by the requirements of the- canon law; and he thus took his place among the ecclesiastical, as well as among the secular princes of the realm. Henry IV. had married Mary de Medici, the daughter of Francis II., grand-duke of Tuscany. This princess was destined to experience the most singular and unparalleled extremes of fortune. She was possessed of great personal beauty, and strong talents for political intrigue. But 22 DEATH OF HENRY IV. neither her beauty nor her talents could bind to her the fickle heart of her husband. She became the mother of two princes, one of whom afterward ascended the throne imder the name of Louis XIII. Fearful of her aspiring nature, her husband had never allowed the ceremony of her coronation to take place. At length, however, during an LQterval of confidence and good feeling between them, Henry IV. consented to the celebration of that event, Accordiagly, on the 13 th of May, 1610, Mary de Medici was solemnly crowned queen of France; and on the 14th, Henry fell a victim to the dagger of the assassin Ravaillac ! His death was very naturally attributed, by those best acquainted with the court secrets of that dismal and dan- gerous period, to the vindictive, ambitious and revenge- ful spirit of the Italian queen. This prmcess immediately became regent of France, and her power, despotic, whimsical, and pernicious as it was, continued undiminished during the minority of her son. The court and the administration were constantly split up into desperate and dangerous factions, and France seemed rapidly to be approaching to the verge of ruin. The eyes of the queen-regent were at length opened to the perilous state of the kingdom ; and she ordered and proclaimed the assembling of the states-general, for the purpose of aiding the sovereign in the correction and re- moval of the existiag evils. This was the last time that this body was convoked in France, until it was summoned to meet by the unfortunate Louis XVI,, amid the roUmg of the thunder which presaged the approaching storms of the first great revolution. It was in this convocation of the states-general, thus summoned by Mary de Medici, that FIRST PUBLIC APPEARA^CE OF RICHELIEU. o:"! the illustrious Richelieu first appears upon the public po- litical stage of France. On this occasion Richelieu acted as speaker for the ec- clesiastical order. In the assembly, the three orders con- tended fiercely for their respective interests ; and their jealous conflicts rendered their deliberations utterly use- less to the state. The tiers etat contended, among other things, that a decree should be passed, to the effect that kings could in no case be deposed for heresy. They de- sired that the sovereign should be declared entirely free from the spiritual power. This proposition Richelieu op- posed with great eloquence and subtlety. At that period of his career, he was on terms of amity with Mary de Medici, who was a bigoted Catholic. She ruled her son, the dauphin. The priests ruled her. And Richelieu, be- ing still identified with the ecclesiastical order, ruled the priests. Hence his interests dictated his policy on this, as on all other occasions. The dissensions, however, which divided the three orders, soon became so fierce that Mary de Medici dissolved their assemblage, before their delib- erations had produced any results, either favorable or un- favorable to her power. In 1616 Louis XIII, was married to the Spanish In- fanta. This princess is better known in history under the name of Anne of Austria. On the occurrence of this event, the old ministry of the regency, consisting of the president, Jeannon Villeroi, and the chancellor, Silleri, were dismissed. A new administration was formed in place of the barbons, or dotards, who had been removed ; at the head of which was placed the prince de Conde. Into that ministry Richelieu was also admitted; and thus. 24 RICHKLIEU ADMITTED TO THE CABINET. for the first time, he came directly in contact with the machinery of state. Nor was it long before he made his powerful mind felt in the deliberations of the ministers, and in the measures adopted by the government. It was Conde's purpose to retain the suj^reme power by weaken- ing that of Mary de Medici with her son. A long and bitter conflict ensued ; during which Richelieu ajiparently took the part of the queen-mother. At first the influence of the latter was triumphant ; Conde was dismissed from his post and imprisoned in the Bastille. Concini, the Italian confidant and favorite of the queen-mother, as- sumed his place and his power. But soon, with the va- cillation so usual in the history of ministers, and of gov- ernments, the tide of regal favor turned, Concini was de- graded and assassinated ; and the old ministry, with Vil- leroi at their head, returned to the possession of power. The queen-mother was then, for the first time, exiled from the court by the command of her son. She fixed her residence at Blois ; and Richelieu, who had adopted the I'esolution to conciliate both parties, and thus, at length, to rise upon the strength of both, accompanied her. His object was, that while he seemed to share with Mary de ■Medici in the ignominy of her banishment, he might act as a sjDy upon her movements, worm himself into her coun- cils, and then betray them to the king. He found a favora- ble field for the execution of this purpose, iu the restless and insatiable spirit of intrigue, which was the great char- acteristic, the bane, and the disgrace of Mary de Medici. It was the shrewd purpose of Richelieu, after hostilities between the royal combatants had reached a certain point, to step in as conciliator between them; render HIS VIGOROUS ADMINISTRATIOIf. 25 important services to both ; and be rewarded by them with the highest post of influence and honor in"the state. The event fulfilled the expectations thus entertained by the crafty courtier. Mary de Medici escaped from Blois, through the agency of the duke d'E2:)ernon, the governor of Metz ; and by him and his attendants she was con- ducted to Angouleme. The king, Louis XIII., on hear- ing of her escape from the place assigned her for her resi- dence, was at first disposed to take severe and vindictive measures. But Richelieu found means of suggesting gen- tler purposes to the royal son of so willful and determined a mother ; and as soon as it was resolved to take the lat- ter alternative, Richelieu oifered his services as negotia- tor. The king ceded to Mary de Medici the government of Anjou ; and three cities were also given up to her as hostages for the future conduct of the king, Conde was restored to his former confidence and honor in the minis- try. The queen-mother returned to Paris, and was rec- onciled to her son. All the grounds of hostihty and jeal- ousy which had distracted the royal family for five years, were apparently buried in oblivion ; and Richelieu re- ceived the reward of his exertions, in the confidence and esteem of both parties. It was after effecting this memo- rable reconciliation between the king and his mother, that RicheUeu was elevated to the post of prime minister of France. It was then, also, that he received the promise of the cardinal's hat, which was soon obtained for him at Rome, through the joint influence and agency of the sov- ereign and his mother. At length, then, we behold the crafty, ambitious, and sagacious churchman, elevated to the dizzy and danger- B 26 HIS ARROCJANT MOTTO. ous eminence to which he had boldly aspired ; and from this moment commenced one of the most extraordinary administrations which has ever illustrated the history of nations. This event occurred in the year 1624. During the space of eighteen years afterward, Richelieu continued to be the leading, the most imposing, and the central fig- ure in the history of Europe ; the arbiter of the fate of millions of men, and the absolute governor of the hearts and fortunes of mighty kings and princes. Previous to the elevation of Richelieu to the post of prime minister, Louis XIII. had governed France with a feeble and trembling hand. The secret deliberations of the royal councils were usually well known, almost before the termination of the sittings at which they had taken place. Richelieu at once seized the reins of government with a firm and powerful grasp, and rendered himself, until the day of his death, absolutely indispensable to his feeble master, whom he inspired with a sentiment of fear and respect, not unmingled with jealous, yet impotent hatred. So absolute did the crafty cardinal soon become, that it was with very considerable trath that, in speaking of the direction of the government, he declared that the proper form for him to use in reference to it, was Ego^ el JRex mens. Such successful ambition, it might readily be supposed, would soon raise around the minister iadignant and pow- erful rivals, who would attempt by every possible means to diminish his influence, to precipitate him from his high eminence, and to compass his ruin. Not the least convinc- ing evidence of the consummate abilities of Richelieu, is to be found in the success with which he discovered, dis- DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. 27 comfited, crushed, and punished the most skillful combi- nations which were ever formed against him. At the head of one of the most dangerous of these, was Gaston, the duke of Orleans, and brother of the king. During the visit of the duke of Buckingham to France, to nego- tiate a marriage between the future king of England, then prince of Wales, and Henrietta, the king's sister, the in- sufferable arrogance of the English embassador had of- fended and disgusted the French minister. A deadly hostility between these able men was the consequence ; nor was that hostility diminished when Richelieu saw that Buckingham even dared to intrigue with Anne of Aus- tria, his master's queen, for whom he himself indulged an improper fondness. The object of the conspiracy against Richeheu, which followed, was intended to dethrone Louis Xni., to place his brother, the duke of Orleans, on the throne, to remove Richelieu from power, and to inflict retribtltive punishment on him and his adherents, for all the indignities which they had haughtily imposed on their rivals. Richelieu detected this conspii-acy, and commu- nicated it to the king, and to the queen-mother. Imme- diately Colonel Ornam, one of the conspirators, the gov- ernor and confidant of the duke of Orleans, was arrested by the orders of the minister, and thrown into the Bas- tille. He languished there in the deepest and darkest dun- geon of that fortress until his death. Count Chalais, an- other of the conspirators, together with the count de Soissons, the duke de Vendome, his brother the grand prior Vendome, Barabas, the able ScagUa, his associates and confederates, each severely felt the dreadful effects of the triumphant vengeance of RicheUeu. Even the 28 SIEGE OF LA ROCHELLE. duke of Orleans himself, who had proposed to marry the ■wife of Louis XIII., in the event of liis deposition and death, was compelled to purchase his immunity by mar- rying Mademoiselle do Montpensier ; and by abandoning all his friends to his powerful and vindictive foe. At the instance of the latter, even the queen herself was summoned before the council and severely reprimanded by the sovereign, for the acquiescence which she was sup- posed to have given to the projects of the conspirators. Scores of noblemen of distinguished birth and powerful connections, were buried beneath the turrets of the Bas- tille, as the penalty for having been implicated in this first plot against the minister, and a guard of musketeers was thenceforth assigned him, for the future preservation of his personal security. The city and fortress of La Rochelle had long been the strong-hold of Protestant or Huguenot discontent in France. It had successfully resisted, either by force of arms or by bribery, every attempt which had been made by the predecessors of Louis XIII. to capture it. Rich- elieu resolved to accomplish what had surpassed the abili- ties of kings and ministers before him. The princess de Rohan, a person eminent for her high birth, her heroism, and her devotion to the Protestant cause, commanded the city and its defenders. Richelieu sent a numerous army, under the orders of Marshal Schomberg, to besiege the works. The duke of Buckingham, who, after his return to Eogland, never forgot nor forgave the indignities which were inflicted on him by the cardinal during his late so- journ in France, prepared to assist the Rochellois with an English fleet. The latter were themselves extremely de- ITS CAPTURE. 29 termined and enthusiastic in their resistance to the at- tacks of the army of the king of France. They chose a new burgess at this crisis, and when he was inducted into office, he presented a poniard to the magistrates and said : "I accept the office of burgess, only on condition that this poinard shall be plunged into the heart of the first traitor who shall dare to speak of surrender ; and against myself, if I ever propose capitulation ! " Richelieu but laughed at the vaunting fortitude of the heroes of Rochelle. He built a gigantic mole into the sea, fourteen hundred feet in length, which effisctually pre- vented the approach of the besieging ships, and of the suc- cors from England. Louis XIII. sojourned in person in the French camp ; and just as the duke of Buckingham wns about to embark on the last squadron of the fleet which left England, he was assassinated by an emmissary of the cardinal, named Felton, an Englishman. At length, after one of the most memorable sieges on record, which continued with fluctuating fortunes during a whole year, Rochelle capitulated. The city was stripped of all its privileges ; the works were manned with the victorious troops of the king ; and the triumph of the cardinal in this uncertain and difficult enterprise, was absolute and complete. His exultation and the growth of his power were in proportion augmented. Previous to this period in the history of this remarka- ble man, he had uniformly acted on the sagacious princi- ple of courting the good Tvill of Mary de Medici, the queen-mother. His sagacity had readily taught him that his master, the king, possessing by nature a soft and pli- ant disposition, would, until he arrived at a certain age, 30 RICHELIEU AND MART DE MEDICI. remain in a great measure subject to the influence of his mother. Therefore, untU Louis XIII. arrived at that age, Richelieu flattered and courted his mother, and through her, he ruled her son the more absolutely. But after the king had reached the period of which we now speak, the maternal influence over him became weakened, and he was taught by the crafty cardinal that he was at length old enough to throw off those leading-strings which once had controlled him, and to think and act for himself. The object of the prelate iu giving this advice, was to dimin- ish the number of his own royal masters, and servants ; so that, instead of being compelled to serve and govern two, he might only serve and govern one. This was the origin of that most remarkable and malignant conflict, which about the year 1628, began between Richeheu and Mary de Medici, a conflict which lasted during the remain- der of their lives with unabated intensity ; which involved the royal family in constant broils and disgraceful tem- pests ; which finally drove the unfortunate queen-mother from home and country ; which imbittered her days with the keenest suffering and mortification ; and which at last compelled her to die in a foreign country, in sohtude, pov- erty, and misery, such as finds no parallel in the chequered page of human vicissitude. Mary de Medici was a remarkable woman ; and one every way difficult to govern or control. Partly from long habit, and partly from her natural disposition, she felt an irresistible temptation to interfere in affairs of state, and to influence her son, the king. During the mi- nority of the latter, she exercised that influence over him by right, as queen-regent. After the majority of the CIIAUACTER OF ilARV DE MEDICI. 31 king, she claimed to exercise the same supremacy by courtesy, as queen-mother. In either case, her assump- tions would have been repugnant to the insatiable ambi- tion of Richelieu ; and hence arose the deadly and life- long struggle between them. Nor had Richelieu an easy task to perform in crushing the spii'it, and destroying the influence of Maiy. She was a woman of warm and often generous impulses. She possessed great resolution of pur- pose, and determination of mil. She was free from the vices of hypocrisy and deceit. She neither possessed, nor pretended to the possession of, any skill in the subtle arts of deception and diplomacy ; and it is certainly very high praise for her that, though she was a woman of warm temperament, though she was a native of ardent Italy, and though she Uved in the most hcentious and dissolute court in Europe, no breath of scandal has ever dared to impeach her stainless virtue. She was also constant in her friendships. But on the contrary, the character of Mary de Medici was tarnished by many great and glaring blemishes. She was so obstinate that reason rarely effect- ed any change in her first-formed purposes. She was vin- dictive and revengeful in the extreme. She could not endure either reproof or opposition, with the least show of seemly grace ; and when her rivals or opponents had once incurred her hatred, she rarely or never forgave. Hence her whole life, after the rise of the stern and unre- lenting Richelieu to power, was one continual scene of mortification, of indignant conflict, and of impotent re- sistance to his supremacy. And while her qualities were admirably adapted to call forth the hostile powers of the cardinal, they were also such as to lay her open to his in- 32 MARRIAGE OF OASTOX.' sidious and wily nature, and to give him every advan- tage over her movements, and over her destiny. The first notorious outburst of passion and jealousy be- t^veen these celebrated rivals, was in reference to the sec- ond marriage of Gaston, the duke of Orleans, the brother of Louis XIII, This marriage had become a matter of great importance, inasmuch as Anne of Austria, the wife of the king, had for many years remained childless, and because the health of Louis XIII. was precarious. In case of his death Avithout issue, Gaston would ascend the vacant throne. The duke of Mantua desired that his daughter should become the future queen. But Mary de Medici had entered with all the unconquerable ardor and resolution of her nature, into the project of obtaining for her son an alliance with one of her own relatives, Anne de Medici. The duke of Orleans really felt an attach- ment for the daughter of the duke of Mantua. The in- triguing mind of Richelieu could not, of course, remain idle during the progress of this important rivalry. The duke of Orleans applied for advice to the king. The king applied for counsel to Richelieu. And Richelieu, to pre- vent the further growth of the power and influence of Mary de Medici, advised the king to permit his brother to marry the princess of Mantua. Meanwhile, the queen- mother expressed her hostile and contemptuous feelings toward the protege of the cardinal, in the most public an insulting manner ; and the consequence was, the ex- istence of the most bitter and implacable enmity between all the parties concerned in the conflict. And it was ap- parent that, to whomsoever the unlucky duke would eventually be married, a deadly hatred would be enter SICKNESS OK LOUIS XIII. 33 tained by the disappointed faction toward the successful aspirant, and toward all those who had contributed to her triumph. During the hostilities carried onin 1630, by Louis XIII. against the duke of Savoy, the king remained with his army in the field, attended by the cardinal. Peace being concluded — ^the terms of which being greatly in favor of France — the king and cardinal resumed their journey to- ward Paris, in August of that year. At Lyons the king became ill, and serious apprehensions were entertained that his end approached. The wife and mother of the king were also present with hini ; and while the apparent danger of the monarch continued, they plotted with in- tense and malignant activity, to accomplish the ruin of the cardinal the moment the king should expire. But Louis, contrary to their wishes, recovered. His disease was nothing more than an imposthume in the stomach, which eventually broke, and the matter being discharged, the king recovered more than his usual health. But during this interval of suspense, the two queens, the two MarU- lacs, the one the keeper of the seals, and the other the mar- shal, Vautier, the first physician to the queen, the princess de Conti, the duchess d'Elbouef, the countess de Fargis, and somg others, had formed a powerful cabal against the cardinal, which the unexpected recovery of the king for the present baffled. The king and his suite returned to Paris, but the sup- pressed volcano still burned with intense, though hidden fury. The cardmal had been informed, by his secret agents, of all that had transpired. While the king lay sick at Lyons, his apprehensions had been aroused, and B* 3 Si BASSOMPIERRE. he began to take measures for his safety, in the event of the king's death. Among other things, he requested Mar- shal Bassompierre to grant him the use of the Swiss guards as an escort, until he should have arrived in Langeudoc, at a retreat which he had there chosen. The marshal re- fused ; and in the sequel, was made a memorable victim of the cardinal's insatiable revenge. On their arrival in Paris the hostility of the cardinal and Mary de Medici broke out afresh. Louis repaired in person to the palace of the Luxembourg, in which the queen-mother resided, for the purpose of effecting a rec- onciliation. He ordered the cardinal to be in attendance, in an adjoining apartment. Mary de Medici broke forth in transports of rage and abuse against her powerful and wily enemy, as soon as the interview began. The king in vain attempted to appease her. Hoping that the pres- ence of the cardinal might, perhaps, have that effect, he ordered him to enter the room. As soon as he appeared, she poured a torrent of abuse upon him. She stigmatized him as a villain, an ungrateful, malignant wretch. She called him the disturber of the public peace. She de- clared that he had usurped the power of the king, and that he made the whole court and nation subservient to his selfish and unprincipled ambition. Rising from her seat, she approached the cardinal, who remained standing in an humble attitude during this extraordinary scene and pointing her finger at him, she exclaimed to the king, in a transport of rage — " There is the man who would willingly deprive you of your crown, to place it on the head of the count de Soissons, who is to marry his niece LaCombalet!" RAGE OF MARY DE MEDICI. 86 Overcome by the intensity of her emotions, the unljappy queen-mother sank into her chair, and burst into tears. The wily cardinal, who knew best how to act under these extraordinary circumstances, remained silent. The king spoke for him, as he intended that he should. He de- clared that the cardinal had been a faithfiil and able ser- vant to him ; but at the same time, he ordered him to re- tire. The king was left alone with his mother. The latter then resumed her endeavors to effect the ruin of her foe. She appealed to every possible consideration which ought to influence the monarch. She was his mother ; she had borne him imder her bosom ; she had brought him into the world ; he carried in his veins her blood ; she loved him only as a mother could love ; and yet " that cursed caitiff, the cardinal," had treated her with every in- dignity ; had destroyed her influence over his mind, and her credit in the court ; he had ruined her happiness ; and the sight of his daily triumph over her imbittered her whole existence. At the same time, he was nothing but a selfish adventurer. He cared not a straw for the king, save as the instrument of his ambition, and his re- venge. He oppressed the people, the nobility, and the court. He united all riches, honors, dignities, in himself. Could a dutiful son hesitate a moment how to choose be- tween his own mother, and such a wretch ? The voice of reason and of religion dictated but one course, and that course was, to put an end at once and forever to the dis- graceful and malignant tyranny of the cardinal. The violence of the conduct of the queen-mother defeat- ed its own purposes. The king was disgusted, rather than won. He retired, determined upon the very opposite 36 HER TEMPORARY TRIUMPH. course demanded by his mother. In truth, LouisXIII. was a weak and unj)rincipled creature, over whose feeble mind Richeheu had acquired an absolute dominion. All he cared for was his own security and ease ; and to the pos- session of these, the talents and services of the cardinal were indispensably necessary. The king had but little discernment ; yet that little was just enough to enable him to sue that there was no one who could fill the place of Richelieu ; and hence he determined that nothing should displace or degrade him. But at that moment, these purposes of the king were un- known to both of the hostile parties. When he left the pres- ence of the king and queen-mothei', Richelieu himself ex- pected his disgrace. He hastened to his palace, and com- menced immmediately to pack up his papers, to burn the most dangerous of them, and to secure his plate and jewels. He intended to retire to Brouage, of which place he was the governor, in order to escape the vengeance of his numer- ous and powerful enemies. During this short interval, a singular scene was presented at the palace of the Luxembourg, the residence of the queen-mother. Mary de Medici seemed certain of her triumph. Her exultation was beyond all boimds. Soon the welcome news flew throiigh the whole court circle, that the powerful, the feared, the hated cardinal was about to fall from his dizzy eminence, and to meet that ruin which he liad inflicted on so many others. The drawing-rooms of the queen-mother were'crowded with the happy and exulting multitude of her fiiends. Plans of vengeance and humilia- tion were devised, to render the fall of the cardinal more mortifying and complete ; and congratulations were of- PERPLEXITY OF THE KING. 37 fered to the queen-molher, and to all lier favorites, that now, at last, the era of their triumph had arrived. While this gay and premature scene was passing at the Luxembourg, on November 11th, 1630 ; and while Riche- lieu was hastily preparing to escape from the impending ruin, the king repaired to Versailles. There he threw himself on his bed, and declared to his favorite, St. Simon, that he felt as if he were inwardly on fire ; and that the violence of his mother had so disconcerted him that he could find rest nowhere. After a short interval his feeble mind reverted to its usual prop, the cardinal, and he sent for him to come immediately to his presence. Richelieu instantly complied with this welcome order. He threw himself at the king's feet, and thanked him as the best, the most constant, the most indulgent master that ever the sun had shone upon. The monarch assured him of his continued favor, and told him to dismiss his fears. Richelieu at the same time adroitly said, that he could not accept the honor of remaining near the person of the king, for fear of being the cause of a scandalous separation be- tween a mother and her son. He would seek some soli- tude where he could weep over the fact, that he had been compelled to seem an ingrate to his benefactress, the queen-mother, in consequence of his paramount devotion to the more important interests of her son. He kissed the king's feet and then rose. Louis then again com- manded him to remain in his office of prime minister, and even divulged the names of those who, in addition to his mother, had been most active in making unfavorable rep- resentations to him against the cardinal. The triumph of Richelieu over this powerful cabal soon 38 RICHELIEU TRIUMPHS OVER THE CABAL. became known ; aud in a day, the saloons of the Lux- embourg became a perfect solitude. Of aU the crowds of courtiers who, a few hours before had congratulated Mary de Medici upon her supposed triumph, not one was there to be seen ! The queen-mother discovered, when too late, how impregnable the power of Richelieu had become ; and from that moment he determined to effect her ruin, and the ruin of all who in any way had taken sides with her against him. This transitory triumph of the queen-mother and her friends, has been justly termed in all succeeding time la journee des Dupes — the day of the dupes ! The vengeance of the cardinal was terrible, and the gratification of it became one of the great aims of his sub- sequent life. The Marillacs, Moutmorenci, the princess de Conti,' Marshal Bassompierre, and many others, were ruiaed as victims to his iasatiable revenge. Some expired upon the wheel of torture, or on the scaffold. Others were imprisoned in the Bastille, and spent many years in sohta- ry and cheerless confinement. Among the latter was the case of Marshal Bassompierre. This man was one of the most accomplished, distinguished, and fascinating cour- tiers and generals of that period. He had become cele- brated for his victories, when commanding the French ar- mies ; and he had acquitted himself with high honor ia several embassies of great importance which had been in- trusted to him. Nor was he less celebrated in the gentler arts of love. It is a circumstance which serves to illus- trate the state of morals prevalent in the court of which a prelate and a chui-chman was the acknowledged head, that Bassompierre, immediately before his arrest, and in BASSOMPIERUE'S IMPRISONMENT. 39 apprehension of that event, on the 24th of February, 1631, burnt more than six thousand love-letters which he had received from different ladies, and which would have com- promised the honor of the most distinguished families in the kingdom ! Bassompierre was confined in the Bastille for twelve years ; nor was he released until the strong hand of death had put an end to the vengeance, together with the life, of the implacable cardinal.* But his fiercest persecutions were reserved for the un- fortunate Mary de Medici. RicheUeu now determined on nothing less than her entire banishment from France, her degradation, impoverishment, and ruin. He first induced the king to visit the city of Compeigne, accompanied by his mother. The object of this trick will soon be appar- ent. After a short residence there, the king and his suite suddenly returned to Paris, without informing Mary de Medici of his purpose. When she prepared to follow him, she found the gates of the city shut upon her. She was a prisoner within its walls ! Her mental sufferings, at the infliction of this indignity to a princess of her temper, may be imagined, but they cannot be described. After a few weeks of detention there, she succeeded in mak- ing her escape ; and after some vicissitudes, she fled to Flanders, feeling that she should never be secure from the deadly hatred and violence of the cardinal, as long aa she remained within the French territory. The subsequent vicissitudes of the life of Mary de Medi- ci, her sufferings, and her fate, almost exceed the exag- * jSee Memoires du Marechal de Bassompierre, contenans I'Histoire du sa vie, et de ee qui s'est fait de plus remarquable a la oour de France pendant quelques annees. Amsterdam, 4 vols, 1723. 40 EXPULSION OF MARY FROM FRANCE. gerations of romance. She successively visited Holland and England. Hex* own daughter Henrietta sat upon the throne of the Stuarts, and yet she was powerless to secure the return of her mother to France. The omnij^otent cardinal sternly forbade it. She herself wrote to her son Louis Xin., but Richelieu himself dictated a cold, and al- most an insulting refusal. Even her property in France was confiscated by the orders of Rioheheu ; and Mary de Medici became dependent upon the charity of her friends for her subsistence. Louis XHI. in one of his letters to her declared, "that he had every wish to serve his mother, but that he could not send her any money, because he had no doubt her evil councillors would make a bad use of it." At length, in the year 1637, Mary de Medici was even driven from England, through the intrigues of the cardi- nal ; and she took her last refuge in the ancient city of Cologne. There, in a small house in which, sixty years before, the immortal Rubens had been born, an old shoe- maker and his wife then resided. They occupied the rooms on the first floor. The second and third stories were let to lodgers. And in the garret of that house dwelt Mary de Medici, and her single remaining atten- dant, her serving man, Mascali. The apartment was poorly furnished, and the utmost poverty was exhibited by every- thing around them. On the 10th day of January, 1641 the ex-queen was sick ; and that once noble form, which had formerly graced the most brilliant throne in Europe, by the side of the chivalrous Henry IV., lay shiverino- from cold and hunger, on a hard and humble bed. Mascali went out to procure, if possible, some food, to give sus- MARY DE MEDICI IN COLOGNE. 41 tenance to the famished woman. At length, after a short absence, he returned to the garret, with a bowl of gruel obtained from the shoemaker on the first floor. The ex- queen greedily received it ; and the next day she felt bet- ter. She thought, as she looked out from the window of the garret, over the wide and uneven waste of snowy roofs around her, that as the sun shone so brightly, she would venture to take a short walk. By Mascali's help, she descended safely the steep and narrow stair-case, and passed out into the street. She had not gone far before she was suddenly accosted by a nobleman, in courtly dress. It was her ancient friend, the duke of Guise, who had also been banished from France by Richelieu ; and who detected the features of his former sovereign and friend, amid the humble and faded weeds in which she was then arrayed. He bowed mstantly very low ; and taking oil" his hat, he addressed her in terms of the profoundest sym- pathy and respect. The next day he sent a note to her humble lodgmgs. It declared that, out of the wreck of all his former fortunes, he had only two hundred loicis d'ors remaining ; and that he enclosed one hundred of them for the use of her majesty. This sum of money supported Mary de Medici for two years, in that garret m Cologne. At length even these were exhausted, and no alleviation had come to the mis- fortunes of the exile. On the 12th of February, 1642, a low, moaning sound of pain issued from that hard and humble couch. The faithful Mascah entered the garret, exclaiming " Nothing ! nothing ! " He had gone forth to procure food, and had obtained none. The moaning sound continued. It was then again winter ; and the 42 DEATH OF MARY DE MEDICI. apartment was cold and cheerless. Mascali collected the rags together which the apartment contained, and en- deavored to warm the dyiag queen. At this moment the rumbling sound of carriage wheels was heard stopping at the door of that humble house. A heavy man is heard toiling up the steep stair-case. At length a knock re- sounds at the door, Mascali opens it. Fabro Chigi, who afterward became pope under the name of Alexander VII., entered the apartment, to impart to the sufferer the last succors of rehgion. He had just discovered the presence of the ex-queen of France in Cologne, and had hastened to her bedside. It was too late to afford physical relief; and he endeavored to impart to her spiritual comfort. Among other things, he is said to have urged her to for- give her enemies, as she was soon to appear before God in judgment. She feebly acquiesced. He then uttered the name of Richelieu, and said that even he must also be for- given. The frame of the dying queen seemed to be in- stantly convulsed with a pang of anguish. She turned her dark eyes reproachfully toward the priest ; moved away from him convulsively in the bed ; exclaimed, in the long-disused language of her sunny and happy youth : '■'■ E troppo I ^'' that is too much ! and then expu-ed. Chigi is said to have afterward confessed, that he had indeed required too much for human nature to perform. There, in poverty and from actual starvation, in a gar- ret in Cologne, Mary de Medici, the most illustrious vic- tim of the implacable and unscrupulous Richelieu, ended her memorable and unfortunate career. Such was the fate of one who was the wife of Henry IV., the mother of the then reigning sovereign of France, the mother of THE DUKR OF ORLEANS. 43 Isabella, queen of Spain, of Henrietta, queen of England, of Christina, duchess of Savoy, of Gaston, duke of Or- leans, and a direct descendant of that immortal house of Florence, which had produced Lorenzo the Magnificent, Pope Leo X., Pope Clement VIL, and many other illus- trious princes. Having banished the mother of the king from France, Richelieu found it necessary to commence hostilities against his next most powerful enemy, the king's brother, the duke of Orleans. After much persecution the latter, who was a frivolous and vindictive prince, determined to invade France with a hostile army, and punish the cardi- nal and all his enemies. He ravaged Burgundy and Au- vergne, and burnt Dijon. Richelieu sent an army against the duke, under the command of Marshals Schomberg and La Force. The duke of Montmorenci, a patriotic and distinguished nobleman, who hated the cardinal in conse- quence of his unscrupulous ambition and cruelty, joined the duke of Orleans. He was the highest noble in the reahn, next to the royal family. At Castelnaudary, a bat- tle was fought between the rival factions and their troops, which resulted in the defeat of the rebel troops, in con- sequence of the baseness and cowardice of the duke of Orleans himself. This defeat placed the duke of Mont- morenci in the power of the triumphant cardinal. The captive duke was tried and condemned to death on the charge of treason. Great efforts were made by some of the most distiaguished princes of the realm, to induce the king to pardon him. The most urgent intercessions and affecting appeals were used in his behalf. He was execu- ted in spite of them all. The omnipotent Richelieu had 44 RICHELIEU'S FOREIGN^ ALLIES. determined that Montmorenci should perish ! Through the agency of the cardinal, the duke of Orleans was again reconciled to his brother, the king ; a reconciliation which lasted until all the money which the duke obtained was sj^ent upon his mistresses, and in gaming. When the stirring events of the Thirty Years' War began to convulse Europe, Richelieu adopted the policy of fortifying France by treaties with foreign states, but resolved not to take any active j^art in the conflict. Ac- cordingly, he formed alliances with Sweden, with Hol- land, with the prince of the Netherlands, with the duke of Saxe-Weimar, with the Swiss, and with the dukes of Sa- voy and Parma. It never had been the policy of tliis able minister to encourage the carrying on of foreign and aggressive wars by the armies and generals of France, He either did not beheve the character of Louis XHI, possessed of suflicient strength to induce him to follow out such a policy, or else he found his own power and su- premacy in the state more easily secured and preserved, by confining the attention of the king to internal events, and to the contests, mtrigues, and factions of the court. Even the successor of St. Peter at Rome, Pius V., hav- ing had the misfortune to offend the cardinal, did not es- cape his all-powerful vengeance. Richelieu sent the Mar- shal d'Etrees, whom the pope most cordially hated, as his ambassador to Rome ; and gave him peremptory orders to treat the sovereign pontiff with such marked mdignities as to give him extreme mortification. The ambassador executed his mission so effectually that his rudeness and insults so deeply wounded the pope, that it hastened, and even occasioned his death. THE PALAIS ROYAL. 45 It was at this period of triumph that the cardinal be- sought Louis XIII. to permit him to bestow a gift upon him, in some humble measure indicative of his profound sense of the obligations under which he considered him- self to his royal master. The king consented, and Rich- elieu i^resented to him the magnificent assemblage of buildings then called Le Palais Cardinal, afterward known to an infamous celebrity under the name of the Pal- ais Royal. To this munificent gift Richelieu added his Chapelle de Diamants, his chased silver buffet, and his great diamond. Gifts Uke these serve to show the vast amount of wealth which Richelieu had secured during his career of successful ambition ; and they prove the in- satiable rapacity with which he had improved his oppor- tunities of acquisition. It was a portion of the crafty scheme ol Richelieu, to retain his vast influence over the king, by diminishing the credit not only of the queen-mother, and of his brother, the duke of Orleans, but also that of his wife, Anne of Austria. Hence he endeavored to keep up in the mind of Louis, a dislike for his queen, and as she had remained so long childless, it was a matter of importance to him to continue, and if possible to increase, the alienation which existed between the royal pair ; for as soon as it would become known that Anne of Austria was about to pre- sent an heir to the throne, her influence over her husband, and her consideration in the state, would have been vastly augmented. But in this particular case, the purposes of the wily and selfish prelate were foiled in a most singular and un- expected manner. 46 THE FILLES DE ST. MARIE. The temperament of Louis XHI. was particularly cold ; and the only attachments which he ever seemed to have formed for the female sex, were of a purely Platonic character. Among the circle of the female acquaintances of the king, there was no one more attractive and pleas- ing in her person and intellect, than the virtuous, amiable, and accomplished Mademoiselle Lafayette. The king, in passing through Paiis on his way from Versailles to St. Maur, stopped at the convent of the Filles de St. Marie, in order to spend several hours in the society of this lady, who had taken refuge in that retreat from the persecu- tions of Richelieu, who was jealous of the king's regard for her. During his conversation with her, a furious storm arose, which rendered it impossible for the king either to proceed to St. Maur, or to return to Versailles. The tempest continued with unabated violence imtU night approached. It became a question of importance then, where the king should lodge during the night. It would be unseemly for him to remain in the convent. It would be unsafe for him to repair, without his usual guards, to any public or private residence. He had for many years never slept in the apartment or dwelling of the queen, who resided in the palace of the Louvre, in Paris. The king was greatly agitated. This was one of the most desperate emergencies of his life, and he, without the aid of the cardinal, was utterly confounded. At length Mad- emoiselle Lafayette benevolently suggested, that it would be best for the king, under these circumstances, to repair to the residence of the queen, where he would be not only secure, but also would be waited upon in such a manner as to render him comfortable. Overborne by the necessities BIRTH OF LOUIS XIV. 47 of the case, rather than induced by any regard for his wife, the king at length consented. Word was instantly sent to the Louvre, that Louis would lodge at that palace during the night ; supper was ordered to suit his taste ; the neglected queen received him kindly; and nine months after that stormy night Louis XIV., who reigned over France for more than seventy years, was born ! A relative of Mademoiselle Lafayette was a person of too much importance in himself, and too intimately connected with the career of Richeheu, to be passed by without notice. This person was the celebrated Father Joseph. In some respects the character of this man was superior to that of Richelieu, in others, it was inferior. He possessed a degree of firmness, and stoical indifference to the vicissitudes of fortune, of which Richelieu was destitute ; for the latter was ever suspicious and fearful of impending danger and disgrace. Joseph did not possess the profound, far-reaching craftiness of Richelieu. He was confounded by the long and tangled details of a great intrigue, in the imravelment and direction of which his master found his greatest glory and delight. But the craft of Father Joseph was that petty, superficial cunning, which characterizes feeble, though supple and hypocritical or treacherous minds. Joseph was, in a word,, the imp, the inferior devil of the great Be.elzebub who so absolutely ruled him, the king, and France. Possessing the utmost respect for the talents of his master, admiring his principles, and applauding his projects, as far as he comprehended their nature and their intended effects, he was in every sense a servant and assistant to Richelieu of inestimable value. 48 FATHEE JOSEPH. And yet, the cardinal entertained no more real or sin- cere regard for Father Joseph, than he did for any one else. After some years of devoted service to his master, Joseph thought that it was high time for himto receive some splendid and substantial remuneration. His ambition did not aUow him to be satisfied with anything less than a car- dinal's hat, or at least, with the archbishopric of Rheims. The absurdity of such aspirations might have been apparent to any one from the fact, that an elevation so high would have rendered Joseph a rival of his master, and would have put an end forever to his dependence and subser- viency. Richelieu readily found abundant pretexts for delaying the accomplishment of these wishes of his most trusted servant. He indeed offered him the bishopric of Mans, as a commencement of his elevation. But Joseph refused ; and redoubled his importunities for a cardinal's hat. Richelieu, to appease his eagerness, instructed his ambassador at the papal court to commence negotiations on the subject ; but at the same time he took such secret measures as effectually thwarted the furtherance of the project. There are not wanting persons who contend that Father Joseph Avas a man of great capacity. Grotius, for instance, declares that he sketched all the outlines of Richelieu's measures, and that the latter put the finishing touch to them. It is certain, that the monk was admit- ted to all the great state secrets of his master ; that he was deputed to negotiate with kings, princes, and the highest potentates of Europe. One of his greatest merits in the estimation of Richelieu was his utter and daring unscrupulousness, which never hesitated at the perpetra FATHER JOSEPH'S DEATH. 49 tion of the most desperate and outrageous measures. Thus he once sent an officer with an important message into Germany, the particulars of which, however, were so severe and cruel, that the officer supposed that there must have been an error in his instructions. He returned for more explicit du-ections, and found Father Joseph celebrating mass. Being pressed for time, he approached the priest and whispered, " Suppose these people defend themselves, what must I do ? " Suspending for a moment his sacred functions, Joseph turned aside, and whispered to the officer, " Qu'on tuetouV — Kill them all! and then pro- ceeded to finish the mass. At length, when the importunities of Father Joseph for the cardinal's hat became so urgent as to be inconvenient, he was seized with a mortal disease, and opportunely died. Some have asserted that he was poisqned by the orders of Richelieu. There is no evidence of the truth of this charge, except that the unscrupulous ambition of the cardi- nal would have led him thus to rid himself of a man who was becoming a dangerous and an aspiring rival. But such evidence can hardly be regarded as satisfactory and conclu- sive. Whatever may have been the real fact in the case, Richelieu kept up the utmost show of tender friendship to- ward him to the last, and even had him removed, shortly previous to his death, to his own palace at Ruel. While Father Joseph was lying on his death-bed, RicheHeu entered his apartment, and wishing to give him the geatest encouragement in his power, in harmony with the character of his servant, he exclaimed, " Courage ! Father Joseph, courage ! Our troops have taken Brisach ! " The monk died in December, 1638, and Richelieu ex- C 4 50 CINQ-MARS. claimed, when he was informed of his death, " I have lost my right arm." He pretended to shed tears over his grave ; which display of sensibility induced the simple Louis XIII. to say : " I have lost one of my best sub- jects, and Monsieur le Cardinal his confidant and inti- mate friend." The last conspii'acy against the authority of the cardi- nal, which he was called upon to confront, and which he eventually crushed, was that of the king's favorite Cinq- Mars. This person had been introduced to the favor of the king by Richeheu himself, who readily discovered that Louis yearned for the society of some agreeable and harmless person, as a relief from the serious and solemn intricacies of state and of council which occupied the larger portion of his time. Cinq-Mars was a handsome young man, of amiable and pleasing temper, of very mod- erate abUities, and admirably suited to the purpose for which he was intended. He at once rose high in the confidence and friendship of the shallow king, and remained at the same time, the subservient tool of Richelieu. At this period the young courtier was secretly attached to a beautiful and fascinating mistress at Paris, named Marion de I'Orme. It was the habit of Cinq-Mars to hasten to her residence, the instant the king retired to bed, and to retui'n thence in the morning early enough to await the monarch at his rising. Sometimes, however, ha was too late for this purpose, and in those instances as soon as Louis inquired for the favorite, he was informed that he had not yet risen. Marion de I'Orme belonged to that celebrated class of women, whose character and career form some of the MARIOK DE L'ORME. 61 most interesting yet mournful pages of history. She was the intimate friend of the notorious Nmon de I'Enclos ; and like her, she was extremely beautiful, accomplished, and perfidious. She possessed a large share of refined wit and intelligence ; was luxurious and expensive in her habits of living; and regarded the indulgence of her voluptuous tastes as the highest end and blessing of ex- istence. Her fascinations enslaved the minds, as well as the passions, of her admii-ers ; and so potent were her charms that they had even subjugated the crafty Riche- lieu himself. At one period the illustrious churchman had been an ardent and humble suppliant for her favors. It is not singular, therefore, that the peerless beauty, the fascinating wit, and the attractive grace of this modern Aspasia, were able to detain in the soft dalliance of her gilded boudoir, this handsome but feeble-minded favorite of the king, long after the sterner dictates of policy and of interest would have admonished him to be gone. And when, to her own attractions, there were added, as was sometimes the case, those of the equally fascinating Ni- non ; when, during the late hours of the night these two remarkable women, and their lovers, banqueted in the splendid apartments of Marion, beguiling the time with the piquant scandals of the court ; while Ninon pensively sang her softest, sweetest love-ditty, and Marion gayly narrated her most pleasing anecdote ; while the choicest viands of the earth combined with charming wit, brilliant repartee, and winning flattery, satiated their physical and intellectual appetites ; when such mingled banquets as these, at which a Pericles, an Apicius, even a Napoleon, would not have disdained to assist, regaled the senses of 62 CONSPIRACY OF CINQ-MARS. the fortunate favorites, it is not strange that the considera- tions of prudence often gave way before syren voices of such seductive, though fatal melody. When kings and ministers elevate men of moderate foi> tunes to such high eminence, they naturally expect them to be obedient, and subservient to their wishes. The un- timely absences of Oinq-Mars excited the indignation of Louis ; and when the real cause of them became known, that cause aroused the mdignation of the jealous Riche- lieu. Yet, after a little petting and scolding, the dispute was adjusted ; but only to break out afterward again with intenser and more fatal fury. The king in his free and confidential conversations with his favorite, disclosed all that occupied his thoughts, but at the same time, he forbade Oinq-Mars to divulge certain things to the cardinal. The latter had been in the habit of learning many things through the subserviency of Cinq-Mars ; and he soon discovered that, for some reason, his protege not only became less communicative, but that, in proportion as he became the depositary of the king's secrets, in that proportion he became arrogant toward the minister. At length, he even went so far as to conspire for the assassination of the cardinal. He endeavored to attach the duke of Orleans and the duke de Bouillon to his conspiracy. Meanwhile, his own arrogance even to- ward the king, became almost insufferable. He asserted publicly, that he did not spend as much of his time as he did formerly in the cabinet of the king, because his breath was so offensive that he reaUy could not endure to go near him ! Just at this period, Richelieu became sick atNorbonne, and Oinq-Mars delayed the assassination, EXECUTION OF CINQ-MARS. 53 in the confident expectation that the minister would die, without the necessity of his intervention. This fatal error, and the delay to which it led, was the cause of his own ruin. The cardinal unexpectedly recovered. He employed the first moments of his convalescence, in devising the means whereby to destroy Cinq-Mars. Accident oppor- tunely came to his aid, and he obtained from an unknown hand, a packet contauiing a copy of the secret treaty which the duke of Orleans and Cinq-Mars had entered into with the king of Spain ; a treaty in which important rights of France were ceded to that country, without the knowledge and consent of the king, or his minister. Riche- lieu immediately sent this document to the king, as proof of the treason of Cinq-Mars; and the former favorite was immediately arrested at Norbonne. The king appoiated a commission to try the conspirators — Cinq-Mars, De Thou, and the duke de BouiUon. The two former were condemned to death for treason ; and Richelieu, fearful lest the imbecile sovereign shoidd relent and pardon them before the completion of their sentence, ordered them to be executed on the same day. During the trial, Cinq-Mars maintained an obstinate and contemptuous si- lence ; but when the soft and ambitious voluptuary was being led to the torture-room, his fortitude gave way, and he freely and openly confessed everything. On the scat- fold he acted with more intrepidity, and one of the last acts of this iU-fated young courtier was, to send with his jeweled portrait, a message of tenderness to the fair Marion de I'Orme, Three months after the accomplishment of this great 64 DEATH OF RICHELIEU. triumph, the mighty cardinal expired. He had reached the height of human glory ; he had trampled aU his foes beneath his feet ; he had governed France'' for nearly twenty years with unparalleled splendor and success ; he had heaped up vast treasures which no man scarcely could number ; he had filled all Europe with the renown and the terror of his name ; and now he was about to fall be- neath the invincible power of the common enemy and conqueror of all. His disease was a dangerous and pain- ful abscess on the breast. The imbecile king whom he had so long ruled with such absolute sway, attended him during his last sickness, and even administered his medi- cines with his own hand. He at length confessed to M. de Lescot, bishop of Chartres, and received absolution. On the 4th of December, 1642, he became much worse, and his end was evidently approacliing. Being then asked whether he forgave all his enemies, he replied with his customary craft, " that he never had any, except the enemies of France ; and that he acted toward them as he implored Divine Justice to act toward him ! " He also added, "that he embraced the articles of the Catholic creed with a perfect faith ; and that if he had a hundred thou- sand hves to give, he would sacrifice them aU for the faith and for the church ? " With such monstrous lies on his dying lips, did this great hypocrite, tyrant, and assassin quit the scene of his Innumerable crimes, and approach the presence of his impartial Judge ! Richeheu expired in the fifty-eighth year of his age, and in the eighteenth of his ministry. When Louis XIII., the imbecUe wretch over whom he had ruled, was informed of his death, he exclaimed coldly, there is a great politician RICHELIEU'S MENTAL QUALITIES. 55 dead ; and in this single speech, he embodied more wis- dom than all the utterances of his whole life before. As to the personal character of this celebrated man, we are convinced that there can be but one honest opinion entertained by those who have carefully examined his history. It will be admitted by every one, that his tal- ents as a statesman, his sagacity, his penetration, the fer- tility of his resources, his firmness, and the consistency of the pohcy which he pursued, were aU unrivaled and unques- tioned. That he introduced order, vigor, and regularity into the administration is equally clear. That he rendered France, her armies, her court, and her king, respected and even feared throughout Europe, is indisputable. That he was one of those great, commanding, towering geniuses which visit the world at rare and long intervals, and leave behind them indelible and eternal foot-marks on the shores of time, for after ages to wonder at and to admire, wUl be admitted. But on the contrary, it is equally clear, that he was one of the most selfish, one of the most unscrupu- lous, one of the most cruel and unprincipled of mankind. His only god was himself. He despised his king, and only used him as the phable instrument of his own aggran- dizement. And to his insane worship of that god, he sacrificed the noblest and best blood of France. His re- venge for supposed hostility or insults, was more impla- cable and insatiable than that of any other great man, vphose deeds adorn and disgrace the page of history. It was with great truth that the illustrious Grotius wrote of him, after his death, an epitaph in which he declared among other things, that " in this was he wretched, that 56 JOY AT HIS DEATH. he made all men so ; being as well the toi'ment, as the or nament of his times."* The announcement of his death was the sudden signal for exultations in various quarters of the habitable globe. At that moment the dark and chilly dungeons of the Bastille resounded with the fi-antic screams of joy, which were uttered by his many victims ; from the illustrious Bassompeirre down to the obscure Dassault, who wrote a letter to the cardinal, when on his death-bed, fuU of scathing, and not unjust or undeserved invective. The innumerable fugitives in foreign climes, who had fled their country to escape his wrath, congratulated each other ; and exulted over his death as if Satan himself had at last been crushed by the omnipotent and retributive arm of God. The French court whom he had so long overawed, and the French people whom he had so cruelly oppressed, rejoiced with one common joy that the great curse of mankind had at last, after so many years of patient endu- rance and suffering on their part, and of pernicious su- premacy on his, descended to the eternal silence and dark- ness of the grave. It is said, that not a human being in France mourned the cardinal's death, except his king, and his own favor- ites. To these he bequeathed munificent legacies. He gave the king, in addition to the presents made him du- ring his lifetime, the sum of fifteen hundred thousand livi'es. He bequeathed his splendid library to the uni- * "Hoc tamen uno miser, quod omnes fecit, Tarn saeculi sui tormentum, quam ornamentum." And he adds afterward, very appropriately : "Quo raigravit sacramentum est ! " HIS DRAMATIC FAILURES. 57 versity of the Sorbonne, which he had established. But all his untold wealth he had, during the latter years of his administration, crueUy extorted from the people ; and he had several times almost driven them to despair by the extent and rigor of his exactions. In a word, this great and gifted man was the most complete embodiment of selfish and unscrupulous mental power, Avhich the world has even seen ; and while his whole life was spent in ele- vating himself, by depressing the power of the French nobles, under the plea of strengthening the prerogatives and supremacy of the king, he degraded, depressed, and ruined the people, whose interests and whose rights he treated vidth contempt, and habitually trampled under foot. And yet, the crafty cardinal, during his triumphant career, met with many mortifications. He attempted the composition of tragedy, and produced an impotent and un- fortunate play, named Mirame ; on the representation of which he expended three hundred thousand crowns. He was irritated beyond measure at the failure of this perform- ance ; and some of those who indulged their wit upon its absurdities, expiated their offense by many long years of captivity in the Bastille. Richelieu himself confessed that the six feet of earth, as he termed the king's cabinet, gave him more trouble than all the rest of Europe combined. He was tormented Avith endless suspicions of conspiracies and plots against his life and supremacy. He was even harassed with jealousy against those who excelled him in the only thing in which he failed, the dramatic art ; and the great OorneiUe himself suflered under the penalties of his hatred. And it is unquestionably true, that had not C* 5« CAUSE OF HIS SUPiiEMACY. Louis XIII. been one of the most imbecile and coulemp- tible of kings ; had he not been devoid of all mental dig- nity, energy, and penetration, it w^ould have been imiDoo sible for even the crafty Richelieu to have retained so long, the splendid and gorgeous, but baleful eminence, from whose heights he so greatly astonished the world, and so deeply cursed his country. CHAPTER 11. MOEALS AND MANNERS OP THE COURT OP VERSAILLES BEFORE THE FIRST FRENCH REVOLUTION. The regency of Anne of Austria, the supremacy of Mazarin, and the reign of Louis XIV., ensued upon the death of the impotent royal "puppet who had been so adroitly governed by Richelieu. The long reign of Louis XIV., glittering with a false, delusive splendor, which emanated from a colossal throne erected upon the ruins of the nation's liberty and prosperity, dragged the French court and people nearer than before to the yawning abyss of ruin. At length Louis XV. assumed the scepter ; and if France, heaving with the tremendous struggles of her great revolutions, presents a striking and impressive sub- ject of reflection, the character of her court, and the con- dition of her people immediately previous to those memo- rable sc«nes, are not less monstrous, nor less pregnant with interest. During the protracted reign of Louis XLV., France had been the worst governed kingdom in Europe, even in that dark age of princely corruption, tyranny, and oppression. To be a noble, or a member of the court, seemed to have given an immunity in almost every vicious excess. It was during the unparalleled darkness of that period that the greatest outrages were perpetrated by a voluptuous and pampered nobility, upon the most valuable and pre? ao LOUIS XIV. cious rights of a frivolous and complacent nation. The eyes of the French people seem to have been strangely blinded, and their resentment disaimed by having be- held the false and delusive splendors of the reign of Louis XIV. ; than whom a more sensual, voluptuous, though mag- nificent sovereign, never adorned or disgraced a throne. During this period, both the person and the preroga- tives of the king were regarded with a sacred and super- stitious' awe, as being elevated far above the reach of popular scrutiny, censure, or indignation. While the French people admired the grandeur of their monarch, and the brilliancy of his court ; while they cherished the renown conferred upon the nation, by the celebrity of French nobles, statesmen, generals, and titled and mitred debauchees ; they forgot, in a great measure, the outrages constantly perpetrated by those persons upon their own most valuable privileges, under the color of the royal pre- rogative, and the immemorial rights and immunities of princes. At that period, the French nation were still dis- posed to believe that all the tyrannical acts of their sov- ereign were committed under the influence of evil coun- sel ; and in the same loyal and charitable spirit, they con- tinued to hope and believe that whatever he did which was virtuous and commendable, was the result of the in- herent benevolence and excellence of his own character. This delusion continued, in a great degree, to exert its protective and conservative influence during the reign of Louis XV. ; and postponed for a time that dreadful catas- trophe which, during the reign of his successor, swept away king, throne, and sovereignty into one terrible and universal ruin. DE CHOISEUL'3 MIIS^ISTRY. 61 The fruitfiil source of countless evils to France durinsr the reign of Louis XV., was the influence and adminis- tration of the duke of Choiseul, minister of foreign af- fairs. This talented but unprincipled statesman was an Austrian by education and feeling. He had been French minister at the court of Vienna ; had there become the favorite and confidant of Maria Theresa; and was secretly attached to Austrian interests and policy. On his return to France, he obtained in conjunction with Madame Pompadour, the king's mistress, complete control over the weak and pliant mind of the sovereign. Choiseul was strong in the protection of Madame Pom- padour, whom Maria Theresa had permanently attached to her own interests, by flattering her vanity with com- pliments and presents. Choiseid supported the authority of the par^iment, whose protector he styled himself. He became rne declared enemy of the Jesuits, and suc- ceeded eventually in suppressing the order throughout the French dominions. His character, was bold, thought- ful, cunning, and sagacious. He possessed much firm- ness and resolution. He was steadfast and consistent in his plans. In a word, though his name and administra- tion have become almost oblivious to posterity, being ecUpsed by the greater brilliancy and magnitude of suc- ceeding events ; yet he was in no respects inferior in abil- ity to statesmen of more enduring fame — to Mazarin, to De Ritz, or to Richelieu. It was through the influence of this man, united with that of Madame Pompadour, that in 1Y58 Louis entered into a treaty with Austria, which greatly aggravated the already existing evils in France ; which, in fact, made the 62 THE JESUITS. latter country a mere province and dependency of Aus- tria ; and which, by binding the French king to furnish money and troops to Austria whenever called upon, ren- dered Louis XV, the tool and subject of Joseph II. It had always been the wise policy of the preceding sovereigns and statesmen of France, to weaken the su- premacy of Austria as far as possible. For this end had Henry IV., Richelieu, Mazarin, Louis XIV., and Belle-Isle, labored and negotiated. All the results of their labors had been lost by the baneful influence which the duke of Ohoiseul exercised over the weak and timid mind of his sovereign. Among the various measures projected and accom- plished by this minister, was the suppression of the Jesu- its in France. This wonderful order of men, whose lives, whose talents, and whose energies are aU d^oted to the defense and propagation of absolutism both m church and in state, have ever been from the hour of their establish- ment, the most powerful supporters of despotic thrones and empires. In all lands and in every quarter of the globe, their efficiency has been found to be immense, and their attachment imwavering, to the interests of the throne and the altar. It matters not to them how tyran- nical a sovereign may be, or how absolute his authority ; it is enough for him to be an enemy to human freedom and a friend of their faith ; and he will find the secret an(iifche pub- lic support of the disciples of Loyola of infinitely more value than a powerful army ; than an extensive and vigilarTt police ; than a fuU and inexhaustible treasury. To them all crimes, aU expedients, and aU measures, are alike in their merit, or in their enormity, provided they are favor- THEIR SUPPRESSIOX IN HUi. C3 able to the great and unchangeable end of all their exer- tions, and of their very being — the retarding of human progress, the suppression of human liberty, and the estab- lishment of despotisms. They have, on many important and critical occasions, secretly, but successfully, rolled back the advancing tide of revolution, which threatened to submerge beneath its ■svaves the trembling thrones of affrighted monarchs. Men wondered at the sudden and mysterious change which took place in the current of events ; and whUe they beheld the clear proofs of the ex- istence of some hidden and powerful agent ; so perfect and consummate was the concealment, that they Avere ut- terly unable to designate lohat that influence was, whose wondrous effects they clearly beheld. That concealed, insidious, and powerful agency was often the unrivaled and stupendbus order of the Jesuits. Yet, strange to say, this was the very body of men whom the infatuated minister of Louis XV. so unwisely, for the interests of his master, suppressed. This event took place in 1762. No sooner had the energy and pro- tection of this society been withdrawn ; no sooner had the Jesuits ceased to support the throne by tbe influence which they exerted ; by their secret instructions in the confessional ; by their powerful discourses from the pul- pit ; by their learned prelections in the university, and lecture-room; and by the profovmd works which they elaborated from the press ; than the foundations of the French monarchy began to loosen and give way. To- gether with the sujjport of the Jesuits, the attachment of the clerical orders, in a great measure, was lost to the throne. For it was the policy of the duke of Ohoiseul, 64 COURT OF LOUIS XV. while lie was abasing the Jesuits, to elevate the new phi- losophy of Voltaire and Rousseau, to the high dignity and influence which had been previously enjoyed by the churchmen. The suppression of the Jesuits was in a great measure regarded as the triumph of the philosophers ; as an attack upon the priesthood ; as a disgrace intended for religion and the church. While this blow was directed by the ministers of Louis XV. against the great representative of morality, order, and religion in the nation, those unfortunate results followed which might naturally have been expected. France became one wide land of revelry, irreligion, and profligacy. The court became the scene of the most ex- cessive and infamous debaucheries. The French people ever prone to imitate those above them in rank and pow- er, copied the fashionable improprieties of the court, with- out possessing that elegant refinement which, ia the vices of the great, takes away half their off'ensiveness. Then commenced that scene of corruption so memorable in the history of nations. Mankind have read with horror, or at least with astonishment, the records of the voluptuous excesses and splendid pleasures of ancient Corinth — a city beautifully situated on the isthmus of that name, where a vast temple of Venus had been erected in a style of magnificence unsurpassed, even in the countries of Xerxes or the Parthenon, whose towering form glittered invi- tingly from afar, beneath the azure sky of that fair land of genius and of song. But Corinth, filled as she Avas with the most beautiful and voluptuous courtesans of aU climes, and crowded with the most opulent and lavish de- bauchees of all countries ; Corinth, in whose great teniae ORIGIN OF MADAM POMPADUUK. 65 the countless priestesses of the impure goddess celebrated tier rites without any censure of law or public opinion to restrain them ; — the deeds of Corinth were purity and inno- cence, compared with the excesses which then character- ized the brilUant and cultivated capital of France. Men have thought that Rome under Nero or Caligula, had feached the worst extremes of himian corruption. But in the age and reigns of Louis XIV. and XV., the world was taught to believe that the race of Poppeas and Mes- saliaas, of ancient date and celebrity, had not yet passed away ; but that the lapse of centuries had even added bo the intensity of their passions, and to the refinement of their vices. Not all the instances of ancient or mod- ern immorality which have excited the wonder and dis- gust of mankind, have presented so vast and so astound- ing an instance of mdividual and national corruption, as that displayed by the com-t and people of France, at the period under consideration. The court itself was under the absolute dominion of women ; at the head of whom in influence, in beauty, and in infamy, was the king's mistress, Madame de Pompa- iour ; a name as badly celebrated in modern, as Avas As- pasia or Thais in ancient times. This lady, whose real name was Poissan, first attracted ;he attention of Louis, when hunting in the forest of Se- lart. She was of humble birth ; but her amazing beauty md grace at once fixed the admiration of the amorous nonarch. In 1 744, at a masked ball, he declared to her lis passion, and she immediately became the king's ac- cnowledged mistress. Her complexion was very fail'. 3er figure, arms, and hands were remarkably beautiful 00 lli:il INTLCE^'UE AND AUTS. Loiiis first 2)rovided apartments for her at Versailles. He presented her at different times with six estates, be- sides so vast a quantity of furniture and valuables that, after her death, the sale of them occupied twelve months. She was introduced at court with great eclat, and was soon created marchioness de Pompadour. Knowing the kmg's aversion to business, she resolved to relieve him of that burthen, and to assume the reins of government herself. She appointed some of the ministers, and dis- missed others. Her talents for administration were re- spectable ; though her chief hold upon the affections of the monarch was her beauty, and her ability to amuse and divert an indolent king, whose time hung heavily upon his hands. She sometimes received the monarch in the garb of a milk-maid ; and the mighty sovereign of a great nation was charmed and ruled, more by the frivolities of this giddy, though fascinating woman, than by all the sages and statesmen of France combined. In all the royal residences she erected theaters, in Avhich she her- self performed ; and she liberally rewarded Voltaire and Rousseau, for literary productions which they wrote at her request, and for her amusement. The superior talents of Madame Pompadour are ad- mitted by all who are impartial in their estimate of her character. Maria Theresa herself complimented her judgment, and did not disdain to ask her advice. She even corresponded with the favorite, and honored her with the epithet of aime et honne cousine. She brought about the treaty, in a great measure, in connection with the duke of Choiseul, which united France to Austria, and proved the most powerful blow to the authority and HER YIN'DICTIVEiNKSS. 1)7 influence of Frederick the Great, during the seven years' war. Amiable and complacent as was this remarkable wo- man to those who flattered and fa^vned upon her, she was terrible in her vengeance upon those who indulged their ■\s-it or sarcasm at her expense. The gloomy cells of the Bastille, with all their horrid scenes of siiffering and of despair, were generally the life-long portion of those ■who were so unfortunate as to incur her displeasure. A few flattering verses addressed to her by the Abbe Ber- nis, made him a cardinal. Some years afterward, hearing that he had spoken of her with disrespect, her resentment Avas furious, and he was disgraced, impoverished, and ex- iled. Latude, a young French ofiicer, wounded her vani- ty, perhaps even unintentionally. The consequence was, that the miseries of the Bastille were his reward for the long and hopeless period of thirty-five years. It was to her corrupt ingenuity that France was in- debted for the invention of the infamous and renowned Para-awxn Cerfs. This establishment was situated near the forest of Satory, at Versailles ; and in it she assem- bled a number of young ladies, remarkable for their beauty and their immorahty, to divert the transient affections of the indolent and imbecUe king. By means of this vo- luptuous establishment, conruption was introduced into many of the first famihes of the kmgdom ; and Louis XV. became the Sardanapalus of modern times ; the most de- bauched man of his age. He spent a hundred milhons of francs on the beauties of this estabUshment ; and that, too, at a time when the revenues of his kingdom were greatly embarassed and oppressed. It became the cen- o8 HER DEATH. ter and hot-bed of vice, where its refinements were stud- ied, and its worse excesses were boldly practiced and approved. While these things were going on at court, public dis- orders were increasing throughout the kingdom. There were troubles in the church ; troubles among the magis- tracy ; and troubles among the people. In 1757 an ab- ortive attempt was made by Damiens to assassinate the king. When Madame Pompadour heard of this catas- trophe, she was compelled to leave the palace ; and re- mained an exile from it, as long as the danger of the king threatened to be fatal. Upon his recovery she returned again, and reasserted her former influence with redoubled power. At length, in 1764, she expired, at the palace at Versailles. For several years her health had been decli- ning, and her end was not unexpected. She died at the age of forty-two. For twenty years she had exercised an unbounded and baneful influence, over the mimd of the imbecile monarch, as well as over the destinies of France. She was to blame, in a great degree, for the many evils in church and in state, which gradually brought on the final catastrophe of the revolution, and overturned all in one common ruin. Her influence was probably more ab- solute and complete, than that of any mistress who ever ruled a king. While a few of her favorites enjoyed the benefits of her successful love and triumphant ambition, there were thousands who writhed under the fury of her capricious resentment ; and all France was made to mourn the evils entailed upon the nation, by her infamous lust, and her extravagant licentiousness. Upon the death of Madame Pompadour, the queen en- ORIGIN OF MADAM DU BARRY. 59 deavored to win back Louis XV. to a course of virtue, and of attention to his famUy, and his subjects. For a very short time she seemed likely to succeed. But her attempt was vain. The king soon relapsed again into his usual habits of indolence and lust ; and by coming under the influence of another mistress not less dissolute or fas- cinating than her predecessor, he rendered the evils which already afflicted France, still more ruinous and intolera- ble. This woman was the celebrated Madame Du Barry. Of her, a French writer truly says : " She was a child as beautiful as Love, but had served an apprenticeship to debauchery in all the brothels of the Rue St. MonoreP This young woman was the daughter of a farmer in Vau- couliers, and was born in IHG. Her parents died shortly after her birth ; and she was thus thrown upon the world. She came to push her fortune at Paris, and entered the employment of a dressmaker. In that brilliant capital, she soon fell a victim to the countless temptations which beset the path of the young and the beautiful. She grad- ually descended from one degree of vice to another, until her splendid and unrivaled charms were paraded for pub- lic prostitution, in the most celebrated brothels of the capital. Madame Du Barry is reported to have commenced her vicious career at the early age of twelve. After having been regularly thro-RTi upon the town as we have said, she met the Count Du Barry, a licentious young man from Thoulouse, a frequenter of the houses of ill-fame in the capital, and already distiuguished by the unen- viable name of le toxic. He procured her favors for the young noblemen nf the court, and particularly for 70 COJfDITIOIS OF LOUIS XV. Lebel, the principal clerk of the department of foreign affairs, with whom she at last lived publicly as his mis- tress. He at length placed her at the head of a gaming establishment in Paris, which, in consequence of her noto- rious beauty soon became celebrated. It was from this position that she was transferred to the royal bed. It is said that Lebel had been the principal agent of Madame Pompadour, in establishing the parc-aux-eerfs. When he had determined to introduce Madam Du Bar- ry to the king, it became necessary to prowde her with a respectable name, as her own was ignoble and unknown. Marshal Richelieu, who was also concerned in the in- trigue, persuaded the Count Du Barry to consent to a formal marriage with the complaisant yomig lady; and thus to stain the honorable name of his ancestors with the infamy of this connection. She was then introduced to the monarch as the Countess Du Barry ; and so satisfac- tory to the king were his first interviews with this prac- ticed and fascinating courtesan, that he immediately ac- knowledged her as his mistress, and proceeded to sur- round her with more than the usual splendors and luxuries which were attendant i;ipon that disgraceful dignity. The imagination of Louis, as well as his body, was worn out by a long and excessive career of debauchery. The elegant and refined blandishments of Mesdames Tour- nelle and Pompadour, could no longer have gratified him ; and he found a new excitement and fascination in the shameless embraces and abandoned excesses of this younc^ girl. She treated him as the accomplished prostitutes of the Palais Royal usually treated the old and worn-out rakes of the metropolis. This was something novel and LUXURY OF DU BARRY. 71 iotei'esting to Louis ; and hence the violent infatuation ^Yhich seized him in reference to his new mistress ; A?hich continued with unabated vehemence, till the hour of his death. The prodigality of ]Madame Du Barry was ruinous to France. She always used gold plate, and possessed a cup of that metal of enormous size and value, presented her by the doting king. Her carriage cost fifty-two thousand fi-ancs. On the day of her/ete, Louis gave her a bouquet of diamonds, valued at three hundred thousand fi-ancs ; and a dressing table of massive gold, sui-mounted by two golden cupids, holding a crown enriched with diamonds, and so ingeniously arranged, that she could not look on the mirror without seeing herself crowned. When she lost immense sums at play, she gave drafts at sight upon the court banker, Beaujon ; which he paid with greater regularity than the expenses of the government. During the life of Louis XV., it is ascertained that she drew in this and in other ways, eighteen millions of francs from the royal treasury. This was the manner in which the exhausted revenues of the kingdom were expended, im- mediately previous to the outbreak of that revolution Avhich wreaked such tei'rible vengeance on the innocent in- heritor of the name, the crown, and the obloquy of the Capets ; and while these abuses do not wholly excuse the infamous excesses of that revolution, they cei'tainly go a great way to paUiate their enormity. And yet, Madam Du Barry was a pattern of amiability, of generosity, and of benevolence. All confessed their admiration of her great beauty, charity, and good nature. To divert the ennui of the aged monarch, Madam 72 DEATH OF LOUIS XV. Du Barry imitated the expedient of Madam Pompadour; and allowed, iu the recesses of the palace, disgraceful scenes of licentiousness to occur between the young cour- tiers and then- mistresses, whom they were permitted to introduce for that purpose. The king conducted her in turn to all the royal palaces ; and at each of them, he gave splendid and expensive entertainments in her honor. Had it not been for the opposition of the duke de Choi- seul, and his sister, the duchess de Grammont, it is prob- able that Louis XV. would have married his mistress, in the excess of his attachment, and of his imbecility. Though she failed in accomphshing this ambitious pur- pose, yet her unfading and peerless beauty retained its potent influence over the monarch, till the day of his death. When attacked by the small pox he sent for her; affectionately embraced her ; covered her with kisses ; and vehemently declared that his greatest grief in dying, was the loss of such unrivaled and angelic charms ! Such were the pursuits and the attachments of the sov- ereign of France, whose reign immediately preceded that of the outbreak of the first revolution. After perusing this short description of the character of the French king and court, the reader will not be sur- prised to learn the consequences which naturally resulted from such prolific and powerful causes. They are, indeed, without a parallel in the chequered history of nations. As was the sovereign, so were all the officers of the kingdom, appointed by him, and by his ministers. In the administration of justice throughout the whole realm, there was no longer even the semblance of impartiality or honesty. A liberal bribe, the favors of a beautiful THE STATE OF FRANCE. "73 wife, or the caresses of a fascinating mistress, could al- ways sway the decision of a judge. Personal freedom ■was universally insecure, for lettres-de-cachet^ without ac- cusation or trial, were issued without even the authority of the king, to gratify the mahce and caprice of his cour- tiers. The servants of the crown, and the officers of the army, drew immense salaries, such as would scarcely now be credited. These exjienses exhausted the resources of the treasury. The most important deUberations and measures of the government were decided in the arms of mistresses ; and the whims of thoughtless courtesans de- termined the fate, and ruined the interests, of thousands of citizens. The most important interests of agriculture were destroyed by the outrageous game-laws which ex- isted. Wild boars and deer were allowed to run at large through the most richly cultivated districts, and to de- stroy the most valuable crops. It was forbidden to hoe and weed, lest the young partridges should be disturbed. It was forbidden to mow hay, lest their eggs should be destroyed. When these infamous laws were broken, and the culprits were arraigned for trial, the most outrageous corruption and oppression were practiced, which were sure in the end to ruin the defendants, and cast them pen- niless upon the world. People were compelled to have their grain ground at the landlord's mill, and to make their wine at his press. The feudal services required by the landed gentry were outrageous and incredible. The taxes were immense, and burdensome beyond endur- ance. The aristocracy, in connection with the clergy, possessed three-fourths of the soil of France. Yet they, for the most part, refused to reside upon theu* estates ; D 74 MORALS IN THE CIIUUCII but spent their revenues amid the dissipations of Paris ; while their agents increased the evil by the perpetration of additional outrages, to promote their own separate in- terests. The condition of the peasantry of France at this pei-iod, was miserable beyond all description. Their houses were unfurnished and cheerless. Their apparel was ragged and filthy. Their toil was endless and un- profitable. They saw no possible alleviation of their pres- ent sufferings ; no reasonable hope of future deUverance. In the church, the corruption was two-fold. First, it was impossible for talent and virtue, if of inferior rank, to rise to the higher dignities of the profession. These were all appropriated by the titled and profligate mem- bers of aristocratic families. The state of morals was cor- rupt in the extreme, among both the higher and the lower orders of the clergy. To be an archbishop, or an abbe, was equivalent to being suspected as a person of licentious and dissolute habits. Religion and its ministers passed into universal contempt ; nor could the eminent virtues of a few, redeem the profession from the degradation produced by the notorious vices of the many. The disrespect into which religion and its representa- tives had fallen, wap augmented by another powerful cause. The period had dawned upon France which was to witness the triumph of infideUty^ These were the hal- cyon days of unbelief and ridicule ; the hour of triumph to Voltaire, to Rousseau, and the Encyclopedists. As soon as a nation becomes devoid of all reUgious rev- erence and feeling, the hour of its ruin is not far off. Some religion of some sort, is necessary to the well-being of every social compact — of every organized community, MORALS IN THE IN'ATIO^'. 75 This fact is illustrated by the history of nations. Tlio ab- sence of all religion has ruined many of them. The presence and power of even a heathen faith, which taught the exist- ence and the supremacy of the gods and man's accountabil- ity to them, has preserved others in permanent prosperity. This was the true secret of the power and duration of the Grecian and Roman republics. The ancient Greek, being of imaginative and cultivated mind, in the absence of all revealed iustruction on the subject of religion invoked the aid of his powerful intellect, and of his brilliant im- agination ; and the result was that gorgeous, beautiful, and imposing array of deities, who inhabited the golden pal- aces of Olympus, and reveled amid the voluptuous scenes of Elysium. To the Greek, or the Roman, every peal of thunder was the voice of angry Jove. On the battle- field, he thought he beheld the powerful achievements of some favorite and propitious god, scattering death among his foes. His splendid temples were adorned with exqui- site sculptures and paintings, of those beautiful and heav- enly forms with which his refined and glowing fancy had peopled the immortal seats of paradise. With such an array of gods before them, the Greeks and Romans felt or acknowledged their superior existence, their suprema^ cj, and man's moral accountability to them. The conse- quence was, that they never commenced a battle without invoking the divine a^stance ; and they Avere hberal in their services and their sacrifices to what they believed to be the requirements of the true religion. But so soon as France became, in effect, a nation of in- fidelfi, denying the existence of the Deity, his control over the affairs of men, and man's accountability to him, 76 STATE OF THE FINANCES. both here and hereafter — the nation became one vast and countless assemblage of debauchees, of adventurers, of unprincipled and reckless scoffers of religion, and even of decency. The few believers in the order of things which had just passed away, were stigmatized as super- stitious ; and every hcense in morals, in opinions, in church, and in state, began to be commended and praised under the specious title of Freedom ; nor was there any conservative or corrective power, either in the existing church or state, capable of resisting the disorganizing ef- fect of these widely-spread and radical evUs. In addition to all this, the finances of the kingdom, which had been much embarrassed during the reign of Louis XIV., became hopelessly deranged under the feeble and perverted administration of his successor. The an- nual deficit during the last years of this sovereign, amounted to seven millions of pounds sterling. This ruined state of things could not long continue. The na- tion was on the verge of total wreck. The tiers-etat were becoming desperate. The volcano under the throne was accumulating its pent-up fires. The superincumbent mass could not much longer suppress it, and a terrible and destructive explosion was about to break forth, dashing that throne and its appendages to atoms. Louis XV. at length died, having taken the small pox from one of the girls of the Pam-aux- Cerfs, who had been infected with the disease only a few hours before, and was ignorant of her condition. He gave her in re- turn the half-cured distemper under which he himself labored. His ignoble reign continued from its com- mencement in 1715, till his death in 1774, during the BIRTH OF LOUIS XV'I. (77 immense period of fifty-nine years. Before he expired, the two diseases had changed his hodj into a rotten carcass. He received the last sacraments from a poor and blind old priest, who alone Avonld venture to un- dertake the task. He was then buried secretly by the night-men of Versailles. Such was the ignominious end of the last king of the elder Bourbon race who died in his bed ! Louis XVI. was born on the 22d of August, 1754. He was the grandson of Louis XV., and second son of the dauphin by his second wife, Maria Josephine, daughter of the elector of Saxony. During his youth, his education was entrusted to the Countess Marsan, whose rare mental and moral qualifica- tions, well fitted her for the important trust. This lady was governess in the royal family. In his younger years, and whilst surrounded by the most fashionable and disso- lute court in the world. Lords was always remarkable for the seriousness of his deportment, for the propriety of his conduct, for the morality and purity of his actions. He seemed to be strangely indifferent to all the brilliant seductions which encompassed him. The attractive dis- sipations, the beautiful women, the luxurious banquets, and the gay festivities which laid their seductive splen- dors at his feet, all appeared alike indifferent to him. Three prominent features marked his youthful charac- ter ; his integrity, his indecision, and his weakness. He seems to have had but little vigor or energy of mind ; and was unable to think and determine for himself. And yet, he was not devoid of mental qualities. His memory was extraordinary, and he retaiued with great accuracy, 78 HIS MENTAL QUALITIES the information which he had acquired with great facility. His knowledge of languages was extensive ; and he was successful in mastering all those branches of learning to which he applied himself. He even possessed considera^ ble literary taste ; and republished and edited an edition of Fenelon's Telemachus. He also executed translations of portions of Gibbon's great M^ork on the Dechne and Fall of the Roman Emjaire. It may be said of him that he was a moral, and even a religious prince ; nor was the in- tense spirit of scandal which characterized his age and country, able to discover any breach of vu-tue, or even of modesty, which could be laid to his charge. There was one peculiar eccentricity with which he indulged himself, as harmless as it was peculiar. He was fond of the labors of a locksmith. He caused an apartment in the palace to be fitted up with the apparatus of a smith ; and thither he often retired, to indulge himself with his favorite exer- cise. The melodious music of the dance, in sweet cadence and harmony with which so many graceful feet moved in the gilded halls of Versailles, was often interrupted by the alternating echo of the anvil and the furnace, resound- ing beneath the sturdy hand of the laborious monarch. The only vice ever laid to the charge of this prince, was the use of wine, which he sometimes carried to a more than reasonable extent. It was in this unobtrusive and harmless manner, that the youth of Louis XVI. passed away ; furnishing no presage of that stormy and disas- trous destiny, which was so soon to be his portion. The diauphin, father of Louis XVL, was so partial to his son, that he excited the jealousy of his brothers, the count of Provence and the count d'Artois. This preference was T UUTH OF LOUIS XVI. 79 the result of the peculiarly amiable and serious disposition of Louis, who at that time was known by the name of the duke de Berry. Madam Adelaide, who was particularly attached to him, endeavored to correct his excessive timidity, and said to him, " Speak at your ease. Berry ; exclaim, bawl out, make a noise like your brother Artois. Dash and break to pieces my china; make yourself talked about." But all these chiding reproofs were of no avail. The duke de Berry became every day more silent and thoughtful. While the prince repulsed flatterers, and did not dis- guise his contempt for them, he took an interest in the miseries of the unfortunate. He took great pleasure in observing the labors of workmen employed at the palace and the gardens. He would frequently assist them'dn raising a heavy stone or beam. He became very expert in making locks ; and obtained the title of the " Good Vulcan" from the royal family, on account of the blackness of his hands when working at this favorite amusement. At the death of Louis XV. the French nation were so weary of his long and almost endless reign, that Louia XVI. was universally hailed by the remarkable epithet of "Louis the Desired." He had himself declared, previous to the death of his predecessor, and as a reproof of the depravity of the old court, that he desired to be called after his accession, by the name of " Louis the Severe.^'' He discovered no taste at any time for violent or noisy pleasures. He hated balls, gaming, shows, and pageants of aU sorts. He detested hbertinism. He was indeed a Lot, lonely and unheeded, amid the corruptions of the mighty Sodom by which he was surrounded. One only 80 HIS AMUSEMENTS. pride he seemed to have entertained, ia connection with the exalted station of which he was the unwilling heir. This was the attachment which he felt to the glory of his house ; and he dreaded everything which might tarnish its luster. When Louis ascended the throne, in 1Y74, he was in his twentieth year, and had already been married four years. Though he had ever been exemplary in regard to women, and was strictly faithful to his wife, the French could not imagine it possible that a Bourbon and a king could long retain his virtue ; and they prophesied that he would show the family trait, as all the rest had done, at the age of forty, when he became tired of the queen. His only amuse- ment was the chase. His principal mental diversion was hi^geograpMcal studies, and the examination of his charts, globes, and spheres. He was unusually dexterous in the art of washing these. His memory in geographical knowledge was prodigious. He possessed a good select library for his own use ; containing rare and expensive works, which he frequently and carefully perused. Di- rectly over this library, was the singular apartment ap- propriated to his amusements as a locksmith. Here he spent much time under the tuition of Oamin, a common mechanic of the day, who afterward betrayed him to the convention, and aided in accomjDlishing his destruction. He declares, that in their intercourse he treated Louis with the rudeness of a common apprentice ; that the lat- ter was fond of inspecting and making curious and in- genious locks ; that he worked hard at the anvil, and the forge, and seemed to take delight in the vigor of his exer- cise ; and that he would frequently conceal himself from HIS RIGOROUS CONDUCT. gl the queen and court, and pass stolen hours with this lock- smith, just as other men steal interviews with their mis- tresses ! Over this mechanical apartment, was a lofty platform covered with lead, on which the king, seated in an easy chair, and mth an immense telescope, surveyed for hours the coui'ts of Versailles, the roads to Paris, and the gar- dens and vUlas in the neighborhood. He had contracted an attachment to Duret, who waited on him in his private apartments ; who sharpened his tools, wiped his anvil, pasted together his charts, and adapted his telescopes to the king's eyes. As sovereign of France, Louis was excessively severe in the punishment of any improprieties in his courtiers, when he became convinced of their thorough depravity. These acts of rigor seemed to be momentary fits of resentment, ex- cited by the turpitude of the criminal. The strong and de- termined will which devises and executes great measures of national policy, he never possessed. His memory was prodigious, as wUl appear from the following incident. He was one day presented with a long financial account for his examination, in which an item was erroneously intro- duced, which had been ins.erted in a similar account of the preceding year, " Here is a double entry," said he. " Bring me the account of last year, and I wiU show it to you." His recollection of the matter was accurate, and the error was corrected. But it was his misfortune, not his fault, that he did not possess the great administrative talents of a Richelieu, or a Cromwell. He was good^ and that was nobler than to have been great. When Louis XVI. ascended the throne his resolu- D* 6 82 HIS GOOD INTENTIONS. tions were admirable. He resolved to become a reformer and revolutionist; and he determined to remedy and correct every abuse under which the nation groaned, and the pampered court and aristocracy flourished. Had he been allowed to prosecute his plans, his crown and life might have been preserved ; and the horrors of the revo- hition might have been rendered unnecessary. But it was not to be his happy destiny to accompUsh this honorable purpose. He was thwarted and prevented by so many causes, that his efibrts were rendered utterly imbecile. These obstacles arose from his parliaments ; from his ministers ; and from his unfortunate connection with Maria Antoinette. This princess, who exerted so impor- tatit an influence in reference to the destiny of Louis, and of France, now requires our more particu'iir attention. She was the daughter of Francis I. emperor of Germa- ny, and Maria Theresa, the celebrated queen of Hungary. She inherited her mother's talents, her beauty, and her ambition. In 1770, at the tender age of fifteen, she was conducted to France as the affianced bride of Louis XVI., at that time the Dauphin. The marriage was celebrated at Versailles with great pomp and sjilen.lor. During the festivities which attended this impo; tant event, a calamity occurred, which threw a check on the general joy, and furnished a sad and terrible omen of the future disasters which attended that inauspicious; marriage. A tempora- ry scafiblding took fire, and amid the terror and confusion which ensued among the multitudes crowded into the tem- porary saloons, three hundred persons were either suffo- cated or burned to death. During the first four years of the married life of these MARRIAGE WITH MARIA ANTOINETTE. 83 princes, they seemed to be perfectly happy. Three years of this period passed away before the accession of Lonis to the throne. Their mutual affection seemed intense ; and as yet none of those pohtical storms had burst forth which afterward raged so furiously around thom. At this liappy period, Maria Antoinette is described as pos- sessing an angelic figure, a remarkably clear complexion, a brilliant color, regular features, and beautifully expres- sive eyes. She had the Austrian under lip. Her dispo- sition was cheerful, happy, and confiding. She was in- deed the subject of general adulation. The pulpit, the academy, the press, the almanacs, according to the chiv- alrous custom of that age, were filled with flattery of her charms, and of her virtues. The old spirit of the pre- ceding reigns, which was accustomed to treat exalted rank and birth with chivalrous respect and "delicacy, had not yet become extinct. The insane vulgarity of Jaco- binism had not yet ventured to degrade and debase eve- ry person, and everything, which time and virtue had surrounded with the just reverence of mankind. The well-known rhapsody of Burke, in reference to Maria Antoinette at this period, deserves to be re-quoted, as necessary to give a fair idea of the happy position which she enjoyed at this propitious period, " It is now sixteen or seventeen years," says this eloquent writer, " since I saw the queen of France, then the dauphiness, at Ver- sailles, and surely, never lighted on this orb, which she hardly seemed to touch, a more dehghtful vision. I saw her just above the horizon, decorating and cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in, glittering like the morning star, full of life, and splendor, and joy ! I 84 BENEVOLENCE OF MARIA ANTOINETTE. thought ten thousand swords would have leaped from their scabbards, to avenge even a Icfok that threatened her with insult. But the age of chivalry is gone. That of sophis- ters, economists, and calculators has succeeded, and the glory of Europe is extinguished forever." The kindness and generosity of her nature, which often induced her gracefully to stoop from her exalted station, to do acts of charity and condescension to the poor, won for her then, the enthusiastic applause of all gallant and chivalrous men, and of a respectful and generous people. Let us cite an instance, A stag which had been wounded in the chase, when the king was present, struck a poor peasant with his horns. The queen, on hearing of the incident, flew to bis assistance, took his wife into her carriage, loaded her with kindness, and granted her a pension. This was but one of many similar incidents which occurred at this period. The first mortification which Maria Antoinette was com- pelled to endure, at the court of Versailes, was the dis- missal and disgrace of the duke of Choiseul, the minister of foreign affairs, and the unchangeable friend and parti- san of Austrian interests. It was he who had brought about the marriage of Louis with Maria Antionette, It was he, who sought by every means to oppose the faction -of Richelieu, and the mistress of Louis XV., Madam Du Barry, but that faction now proved too powerful for him, and caused his disgrace. Louis XVT, ever afterward mistrusted his wife, whenever the interests of Austria came in question, Maria Antionette hated Madam Du Barry, and was jealous of her ; and the first act of severity of which she was guilty in France, after her accession to THE COUNT DE PROVENCE. 86 the throne, was the rude and unceremonious banishment of this favorite, the moment the old king was dead. Such was the character of the queen at the period when she iirst shared the throne with Louis. The other mem- bers of the royal family occupied so important a position, and exerted so decided an influence on succeeding events and on the fate of Louis, that it is proper to dwell, at some length, upon their peculiarities and character. The king had two brothers, the count of Provence, called, according to etiquette, Monsieu7\ and the count d'Artois ; men as diametrically different from the king in dispositions, as two persons could possibly be. The count of Provence was an absolutist in principle ; and was op- posed to all measures of reform that could be proposed. He entertained Ihe idea, that all the nations of Europe grew out of royalty as existing in the reigning monarch- ies ; and that the house of Bourbon was the first and great- est of all the families on the earth. Yet he was vacOla- ting and incoherent in his political ideas. He was opposed to the house of Austria, and to the intrigues of Maria An- toinette in its favor. He considered her as the scourge and the calamity of France. He possessed a deeply medi- tative cast of mind ; was remarkable for the indepen- dence and originality of his ideas on the subject of gov- ernment ; and was, in a large degree, the most talented of the grandsons of Louis XV. The count d'Artois, the second brother of the king, had inherited from nature a very different disposition. He was strongly inclined to pleasure ; and his irregular and premature inclinati( as rendered the excesses of his youth outrageous. His licentiousness was unbounded, 86 THE COUNT D'ARTOIS. and universaJy censured, even by the least scrupulous of men on that subject — by the French nobility themselves. In the same degree that the king was virtuous, chaste, and moderate, he was impure, extravagant, and outrageous. He was also an inveterate gambler, and on one occasion he desked to entice the king to join him in this indulgence. " Will you stake a thousand double louis-d'ors," said the count to him one day, " I will play with you with all my heart," said the latter, " but I will stake no more than a crown. You are too rich to play with me." At another time, while Louis was making a journey, some repairs were ordered in the apartments he was to occupy. Hear- ing that these repairs cost thirty thousand francs, he was very indignant. Said he, " I might have made thirty families happy with that sum." Yet this was the man whom the revolutionists guillotined, as the representative of every vice! But Louis XVI. seemed to be the only eminent exam- ple of virtue in his family. The duke of Orleans, the father of JEgalite, had been married to Louisa Henrietta de Conti. The duchess of Orleans, during two years of her married life, was attached to her husband ; too much so, indeed, if the reports are true, concerning the singular behavior of this couple at court, upon the beds of their friends when visiting, and even in the gardens. But the duchess soon became scandalous in her life. She prosti- tuted herself without shame, or even selection, to the men of the court, and to persons of all ranks, from a prince of the blood, to her coachman Lefranc. Tired of sharing the pleasures of love with men whom she knew, she in- dulged her insatiable appetite by soliciting the embraces THE DUKE DE CHARTRES. 87 of strangers, in the old garden of the Palais Royal, in the evening. She gloried in the fact that she deserved the epithet of the modern Messalina. After the deatli of this shameless womaii, the duke of Orleans married Madam Moutesson, a lady of rare beauty, intelligence, and virtue. This person he seems to have sincerely loved ; and she was worthy of his affection. She reestablished good order and decorum in his house ; while a taste for the arts, and refined wit, took the place of the coarse licentiousness with which the duchess of Orleans had degraded it. But the corruption and infamy of this remarkable family seem to have reached their climax in the person of the duke de Chartres, afterward termed Egalite. This jjrince was handsome in countenance and figure, and possessed a fair share of natural intelligence and talent. But his disposi- tion was excessively depraved and corrupt. He is said to have entered upon a career of vice at the early age of sixteen years. Some of the persons employed in his education then initiated him into habits of prostitution. An abandoned though beautiful woman by the name of Deschamps, was introduced to him, who first corrupted his mind and morals, and led him into his first breaches of virtue. From the seductive arms of this Avoman, he soon passed into those of the most celebrated courtesans of the time — to those of Md'Ile Michelon, and of Md'Ue Duthe. Having himself become thoroughly corrupt, he next seduced the young prince of Lamballe, by means of the infamous women with whom he had become connect- ed. It is said that he afterward poisoned this prince, in order that he might inherit the whole estate of the duke 88 HIS EXCESSES. of Penthievre, whose only daughter he subsequently mar- ried. He was indeed monstrum a vitiis nulla virtute redemptum. The ordinary excesses and refinements of lust were far from satisfying the depraved disposition of this remarka- ble man. Even after his marriage with the amiable and virtuous princess whom we have just named, he continued to lead the life of a libertine ; to ramble through all the houses of debauchery in the capital, and to order the most extravagant an d licentious suppers. The most abominable orgies alone were his deUght. He erected in the neigh- borhood of Paris, a sumptuous temple of prostitution, where his favorites indulged themselves in the most abandoned profligacy. To this obscene temple were con- ducted, under the shades of night, the most celebrated, and the most fascinating prostitutes of the capital, some- times to the number of one hundred and fifty. On their arrival, they found a splendid banquet prepared with hot wines and high seasoned food, of which the company were obliged to partake, quite naked. After his guests had reached the state of the Bacchanalians of antiquity, they fell down drunk into the arms of the friends and lacqueys of the duke. " One day," says a writer who was often a partner in these infamous revels, " I was in one of these parties of the duke of Chartres, "We were all stark Aa- ked, as was our chief. We did full justice to the banquet ; and when that was ended, the prince gave the well-known and desired signal. Instantly every one took his own pleasure, in his own way, and the prince, walkmg up and down amid this motley scene, laughed at the weaknesses, and ridiculed the passions of humanity." At other times. HIS SriAilELESSNESS. 89 at this same cyprian temple, the prince took Jiis diversions in a not less infamous way, by calliog in the aid of the mechanical arts, and using the inventive faculties of the ablest mechanics. He had an apartment appropriated to, and fiUed.with, various machines, which were devoted to the sports of love, in all their various attitudes. Even invisible machines, and naked figures in relief, were made obedient to the command of the abandoned revel- ers; inflamed their passions; and contributed, uncon- sciously, to their gratification. The most astounding part of all this was, that the duke of Chartres was not anxious to conceal these enormities from the light of day, or fi-om the knowledge and censure of mankind. He rather aided in their circulation. He laid a wager, at Ver- sailles, that he would return to the Palais Royal, quite naked, on horseback, at full gaUop. The companions of his debaucheries were the first to blush at this horrid propo- sition, and they besought him at least to set out, not from Versailles, but from his stables. He refused even the lat- •jj^r amendment, and won the original bet. It was he who introduced among the French the passion of retain- Lug in their service handsome jockeys, whom they picked up among the dregs of the Parisian population, to aid as obsequious instruments of their pleasures. He established an association of profligates, whose sole employment was to consult together for the purpose of devising some new abomination. Such was the character of the principal representatives of the royal family of France, at the period of the out- break of the revolution.. The mighty and turbulent wa- ters of that flood, were now beginning slowly to move to 90 COA'SEQUEXCES TO LOaiS XVI. and fro. The agitation was, as yet, but gentle and insig- nificant. But erelong it became terrible and destruc- tive. The unfavorable impression produced upon the French nation, by the unbridled licentiousness of some of the members of the house of Bourbon, produced a pow- erful effect in hastening on the revolution. The excited minds of the tiers etat did not distinguish between the vices of the many, and the redeeming virtues of the few. They supposed that as the royal family had been for gen- erations the most corrupt race in Europe, so now also, they were aU stiU possessed of the same character. With the undistinguishing and stupid fury which characterzies the rabble in all ages, they were about to harass, to tor- ment, and to destroy the only innocent person whom, of all the royal family, they should most carefully and anx- iously have protected. Louis XVI. should have been al- lowed to escape unhurt, from the ravages of a revolution which swept away the whole royal family. But on him they expended the bitterest vials of their wrath, and de- prived him of throne, of happiness, and even of life itself for no other imaginable reason, except that he unfortu- nately was born a Bourbon, and had been crowned a king! CHAPTER III. OPBNIjSTG scenes of the first FEENCH EEVOLtTTIOW. Let us contemplate Louis XVI. as he ascends the throne, and addresses himself to the difficult task of con- ducting the operations of a worn-out, embarrassed, and imbecile government. It may with truth be said, that his troubles had begun the very day on which he assumed his ill-fated scepter. One of his first acts was to appoint M. Mauripas his prime minister. This old courtier had obtained the con- fidence of the king, by seeming never to contradict him. Whenever he wished to gain the monarch's signature con- trary to his inclination, he never proposed the matter di- rectly. He said something of interest respecting Eng- land, or Spain, or the emperor of Germany. He an- nounced some particular success or disaster; and then, under pretense that the paper to be signed related to the subject of their conversation, he stole the signature of the confiding monarch. Mauripas occupied an apartment in the palace near those of the sovereign ; and thither the latter would fre- quently repair, to spend his time in the cheerful and di- verting society of his minister. The salary, the style of living, and expenditure of Mauripas, were indeed suffi- ciently unostentatious. He possessed both sagacity and prudence ; he was laborious in the performance of his du- 92 MINISTRY OF TURGOT. ties ; and as for the rest, he let the troubled -world take •whatever course it pleased. Such was not the man to guide the ship of state securely, in those troublous and tempestuous times. The voice of the nation demanded that M. Turgot, an honest man, and a profound genius, should be called to the post held by Mauripas. Louis obeyed the popular will. Mauripas was dismissed, and Turgot was appointed. He had been a priest, a prior of the Sorbonne, and was at one time enthusiastic enough to say, that " all the blesB- ings of the people were derived from the christian re- ligion." He afterward asserted that Christianity " was a work of useless superstition." Of him Malesherbes de- clared that he had the head of Bacon, with the heart of a L'Hospital ; and that he labored to effect the results which the revolution afterward accomplished by more vi- olent means. Louis XVI. at this period declared that "the only true friends of the people were himself and Turgot." But the minister was soon dismissed, in conse- quence of the opposition of the nobiHty, whose excesses he absurdly attempted to reform. The lower orders, de- lighted at the display of disinterestedness which he ex- hibited in distributing three hundred thousand livres among the poor of Paris, thought that prime ministers no longer lived, and intrigued, only for the gratification of tlieir own avarice. They called Turgot by a name which certainly does infinite honor to his memory — " the virtuous minister?'' He was succeeded by M. Necker, a Genevan, whom pubUc opinion once more designated to the king, as a suit- able and popular ijiinister. This man was the architect MINISTRY OF NECKER. 93 of his own fortune, and had amassed vast wealth by his abihties as a financier. He was a disciple of the school of Colbert. He had published several financial works, which contributed to the popular idea that he jDOSsessed talents eminently adapted to retrieve the falling fortunes of the king, and of the state. N"or were these expectations disappointed. By his first measures Necker reestablished order in the finances. He paid ofi" the heavy debts contracted by the American war. He discovered unexpected financial resources. He re- vived public credit. But he could not remove the im- mense mountains of disabilities and sufferings which crushed the French people, without introducing exten- sive reforms, which touched the interests and the abuses of the higher orders. This he at length attempted to do, and the consequence was, that they obtained his removal, as they had done that of Turgot and Mauripas before him. Louis next chose for his prime minister M. Calonne. This man was clever, fertile in resources, confident in his genius, and in his measures, making great promises, en- couraging brilliant hopes, cheering the desponding, and laughing at the difficulties which surrounded the state. His vigorous measures for a time seemed likely to remove the most dangerous of the impending evils, and threw a brighter gleam of hope over the dark and clouded okj which then lowered on every side. To all the demands of the queen, he said : " If what your majesty asks is possi- ble, it is done ; if it is impossible, it shall be done." But nothing of real value could be accomplished without the consent of the privileged orders. The only way to re- 94 MINISTRY OF CALONNE. move the financial embarrassment of the nation was — not to impose new taxes on the people, for they would not endure it ; nor to enlarge in any way the expenses of the government, for the treasury could not afford it ; but to extend the taxes to a greater number of persons, that is, to the nobility and clergy, who, possessing one-half of the whole wealth of the kingdom, were stUl exempt from all taxation. The year 1788 commenced with open hostilities be- tween the misguided king, and his parhament. The par- liament passed a decree, abolishing the lettres-de-cachet / and demanding the recall of exiled persons. The king canceled this decree. The parliament reestablished it. The king then determined to attempt, in effect, the aboli- tion of the parhaments, by taking away their power of judging without an appeal; by withdrawing their right to register laws and edicts ; and thus to annihilate their po- litical influence and importance. The king next resolved upon a measure, which, while it shows his good intentions, also clearly illustrates how poorly men can foresee the end from the beginning, and how often the very measures which they adopt for their own advantage and protection, result in their ultimate in- jury and ruin. To conquer the opposition of the court to every wise measure of reform, Louis determined to appeal to the tiers etat, (the third estate,) and to summon a convocation of the " states-general." The consequence thus conferred by the king himself upon the popular voice, afterward became the engine of his destruction, when the people became perverted by the influence of their corrupt and frantic leaders. LOUIS SUMMONS THE STATES-GENERAL. * 95 The king ordained that the states-general should con- sist of one thoiisand members ; that the repres6ntation should be in proportion to the population, and to the taxes paid in each haillage; and that the number of the deputies of the tiers etat, should be equal to that of the other two orders of the state combined. This decree of the king at once threw France into an intense state of political commotion. Then arose that spirit of popular declamation and discussion, which soon became the general order of the day, and the disgrace of the nation. Immediately assemblies were collected every- where throughout France, in which the most intemperate and excited minds raved on the subject of the existing abuses ; on the outrages of the court and the nobility ; and on the immortal blessings of Hberty. Then arose that spirit of Jacobinism, so disgraceful in its character, and so ruinous in its effects to France. Nothing now be- gan to be heard, but the bowlings of insane demagogues, who, under pretense of inquiries into the state of the country, the necessary provisions of a new constitution, and the reforms which were to be effected, began to threaten the oveithrow of all the existing institutions of society. They traduced the church. They cursed the priesthood. They denounced the aristocracy. They re- viled the court. They threatened the popular vengeance on all dignities, civil, ecclesiastical, and even military. France must be disenthralled and redeemed. All the lib- eral professions must be abandoned. All the nobler arts of life, and the pursuits of literature and philosophy, must be renounced. All pensions must be abolished. All the prerogatives and appointments formerly appendant to 9« RISE OF MODERN DEMAGOGUES. the crown, must be suppressed. The most necessary taxes liiust be reduced. The minister of the king was burned in effigj. The masses were inflamed by the ha- rangues at the popular cUibs, and in the dens of the dem- agogues, by those desperate and ruined men, who, having nothing to lose by any change, however unfortimate, might perhaps gain by any event, however disastrous. The affrighted king already saw the arms which he had unwisely placed in the hands of the people turned to his own destruction, and that of his throne. Even nature seemed to conspire, at this most unpropi- tious moment, to increase the general discontent, and re- double the unpopularity of the unhappy sovereign. On the 15th of July, 1789, a furious hail-storm, such as had never before visited the vine-clad hills of France, de- stroyed the produce of the earth. The consequence was, that the inhabitants of Paris were threatened with star- vation, from the scarcity and the high prices of provisions. Riots occurred everywhere. Vast multitudes of vaga- bonds without any resources, or any regular pursuit, ranged abroad throughout France, and excited the popu- lar frenzy. Some unfortunate speculations of the nobility in grain, by which they monopolized a large amount of it, increased the evil, and drove these wretches to mad- ness. They threatened the palace of the king at Ver- sailles. They convulsed Paris with their commotions. The bakers' shops were pillaged* A desperate and aban- doned woman brought some damaged flour to the pal- ace, forced herself into the presence of Maria Antoinette, exhibited the most insane fury, and even threatened vio- lence to her person. THE STATES-GENERAL ELECTED. 97 Such was everywhei-e the state of the nation, when the elections for the states-general took place. It may easily be imagined what scenes of violence, extravagance, and in- sanity would be presented by an excited populace, and especially by an excited French populace, under such pe- culiar circumstances. The elections everywhere were active, and in most places noisy and tumultuous. The states-general were now about to assemble. It may be supposed that the newly chosen representa- tives of the people woidd be pledged by their previous career, and by their principles, to oppose the court, to de- nounce the king and the nobihty, and to labor for the establishment of universal liberty and equahty. Who composed this memorable assemblage? Provincial law- yers of no practice ; literary men who had long starved on the humble pittance which men of letters generally receive in retiu-n for the produce of their brains ; trades- men who had failed in business, and who had no connec- tions to retain them at home ; play-actors, gamblers, and debauchees of every class and grade, for the first time found themselves incorporated into a deliberative assem- bly, by a great nation, invested with important powers and prerogatives, without any moral power to overawe or to moderate them. They resembled an assemblage of children placed in an apartment filled with the most deli- cate and valuable machinery, which they had the privilege of handling and altering ; but which they were soon ut- terly to ruin and destroy. The most important circumstance connected with these initiatory events, was the election of the count de Mira- beau. He had been already rejected by the nobility, the E 7 98 ITS FIRST ASSEMBLAGE. order to which he belonged. He was then supported by the tiers etat. He canvassed Provence, his native coun- try ; succeeded in being elected, as the fruit of infinite la- bors ; and was enrolled among the immortal representa- tives of the people. At length therhoment of the assem- bling of this extraordinary body had arrived. The open- ing scene of this most memorable epoch in modern histo- ry is about to take place. France is now to speak to all ages and to all countries, through her assembled repre- sentatives. The curtain is about to rise, and a drama to begin, the incidents of which present a strange mixture of subhmity and of terror. It cannot be disguised that France and even Europe, looked on this assembly of the states-general \vith solemn awe and interest. The external forms which were ob- served were not unworthy of the occasion, and were cal- culated to heighten the effect produced. The opening ses- sion occurred on the 4th of May, 1*789. A solemn pro- cession took place to the ancient and majestic cathedral of Notre-Dame. There have been few spectacles more imposing to the eye, or more impressive to the senses, than that which then occurred. The place itself in which this august scene was enacted, was appropriate to the oc- casion, and inspired the mind with emotions of reverence and sublimity. It was the most ancient and the most il- lustrious temple in France. It was a Gothic cathedral, in which the majesty of human genius sat enthroned in its lofty aisles, its stupendous arches, and in the brilliant splendors of the high altar. It was the venerable edifice in which twenty kings, of generations long since passed away, had been crowned. It was the church which had THE PROCESSION TO NOTRE DAME. 99 echoed with the eloquent voice of Bossuet ; whose lofty arches had resounded with the subhnie pathos of Massillon. Those silent walls had witnessed the imposing ceremonies which attended the baptisms, the coronations, and the funerals of mighty sovereigns, long since crumbled to their kindred dust, of Henry IV., of Louis X., of Francis I., and of Louis XIV. The imj^osiiag procession was headed by the king and queen, immediately followed by the court. Next came the two higher orders, the nobility, splendidly dressed, glittering with gold and diamonds ; and the superior clergy, attired in their magnificent vestments. Princes, peers, and generals were clothed in purple, and wore hats adorned with nodding plumes. The re^presen- , tatives of the people came next. They wore the plain black suits of genteel citizens ; and it was observed by the keen eye of a contemporary, that though unassuming in their dress, their countenances seemed resolute, deter- mined, and indicated the consciousness of untried power. It was remarked too, that the duke of Orleans, {Egalite,) though walking in the rear of the nobility, chose to loiter so far behind as to become mixed with the foremost depu- ties of the tiers etat. The streets were himg with tapes- try belonging to the cro^vn. The regiments of the French and Swiss guards formed aline from St. Louis to Notre-Dame. An immense concourse of citizens looked on in respectful silence. The windows were filled with spectators of all ages, and adorned by the presence of beautiful women. Bands of music placed at intervals, filled the ah- with martial and melodious sounds. On the arrival of the procession at Notre-Dame, the three orders seated themselves on benches placed in the 100 THE OPENI^G SERMON. nave. The king and queen took their places beneath a canopy of purple, spangled with golden fleurs-de-Us. The royal family, and the great officers of the crown, occupied seats near the throne. Impressive and solemn music re- verberated through the lofty arches of the ancient pile in which they were assembled, filling the countless multi- tude, which crowded every nook and avenue, with rever- ence and awe. The ceremonies began by a sermon from the bishop of Nantz. His discourse was appropriate to the memora- ble occasion. "Religion," said he, "constitutes the greal^j est strength of empires. It alone confers stability upon thrones. It alone secures the pi-osperity of nations." Next followed a written address from the king. He re- commended disinterestedness and prudence to the as- sembly ; and declared the purity and benevolence of his own intentions. Barentin, the keeper of the great seal, then spoke. He was followed by Necker, the minister ; who read a memorial on the state of the kingdom and the disorder of the finances. He declared that there was a deficiency in the treasury of fifty-sLx: millions. Had any observer who possessed the eye of oranis- cience, then surveyed that vast assembly, and been able to foresee the portentous future, what indescribable sensa- tions would he not have experienced ! He would have Been that king and queen, then radiant with splendor and majesty, cruelly executed on the scaffold, and covered with blood. He would have numbered out, among the deputies there assembled, the hundreds who, after passing thi-ough immense struggles, would end their days in de- spair and ignominy by the knife of the guillotine. He THE AUDIEIS'CE. 101 would there have seen amid that crowd a man, small in stat- ure, nervous, and insigniticant ; who afterward obtained possession of a terrible power, and wielded it to the de- struction and ruin of his native land and of his race — the restless, furious, and bloody Robespierre. Perhaps, too, among that mighty throng he might have discerned an- other looker-on, then equally insignificant in his person, and still more obscure in his position ; but whose genius and grandeur in after years, overshadowed the world; who afterward himself secured and wore the very crown which on that imposing day adorned the head of the heir of the haughty Bourbons ; and who at length, after being the hero of a hundred battles, died in solitude on a remote and rock-bound island of the ocean. He might there have seen the diminutive figure, the pale face, and the eagle eye of Napolton BonaxKirte^ then poor and friendless ; but indulging in high, dauntless, and aspiring hopes. And among the many fair women, Avho graced that scene with their fascinating smiles, he might have noted Madam Beauharnais, who was also reserved for a remarkable and memorable fate, exceeding in romance and interest that of any other woman of modern times ; whose chaste and seductive charms afterward won the affections of the man of iron will, and stupendous genius, with whom she shared that throne. Such were the inci- dents connected with the first meeting of the states-gen- eral of France, under Louis XVI. Storms were lowering in the political heavens. But as yet there had been no violent outbreaks, no demonstrations of popular fury, which indicated the horrible extremes which were soon to ensue. So far, all had been decorous and dignified, 102 DEMANDS OF THE TIERS ETAT. such as became the sovereign and the representatives of a great and cultivated people, assembled under ancient forms, and with irauosing ceremonies, to deliberate on measures promotive of the common good. But difficulties and disturbances soon began to exist, between the tiers etat, who now arrogated to themselves the title of Commons — a name unheard of till then, in French history — and the other two orders, Avho constitu- ted the states-general. The commons assembled with a determination that the nobility and clergy should sit with them, in the same body ; that they should proceed together to examine the credentials of the representatives of each order ; and thus, in conjunction, should perform the task of legislation and reform. The object of this arrangement was to give the com- mons the advantage of their superior numbers, in the votes to be cast. The other two orders discovered the trick, and refused to acquiesce in the arrangement. The latter remained in their own hall, determined not to yield. The commons sent frequent messages to the clergy and nobility, urging their acquiescence. They asked the clergy in the " nam^e of the Ood of Peace,'''' to submit to a measure which they thought necessary to the welfare and prosperity of the country. Bailly, the president of the commons, waited on the long to urge his interjjosi- tion. The king declined interfering in the struggle be- tween the several orders. Neither party seemed dis- posed to give way. Mirabeau, for the first time, then addressed the assembly, and displayed that impressive and powerful eloquence which on many subsequent and THE TITLE ADOPTED. 103 memorable occasions startled and aroused the nation, and eventually shook the throne to its center. He rose and said "that any plan of conciliation rejected by one party, could no longer be examined by another. A month was now passed and nothing had been done." The as- sembly then proceeded to a separate verification of creden- tials, and thus forever separated itself, in feeling, in inter- est, and in action, from the other great orders of the state. The next question to be decided by the assembly was, the name to be used by the representatives of the people. Mounier suggested that of the " deliberative majority in the absence of the minority." A better cognomen still was that proposed by.Mirabeau: "The representatives of the French people." The proposition of Legrand, was the one at last agreed upon, that of the National Assembly. The nobility and clergy were now alarmed at the bold- ness and resolution exhibited by the tiers etat. They had not expected such a display on the part of j^eople, who never before, in the history of the French nation, pos- sessed the least right to exercise legislative and politi- cal authority. Necker, the minister, alone of those about the king was attached to the popular cause. But the court succeeded in resisting the plans of reconciliation which he laid before the monarch. At length the latter determined to hold a royal sitting, in which the depu- ties of the thi-ee orders were to assemble together, in the presence of the king. The meeting was held ; but the freedom of speech was overawed by the presence of soldiery. The sitting had none of the dignity and 104 MISPLACED DECISION OF THE KING. grandeur of the preceding one, which had been held on the fourth of May. The king made an address, in which he used violent expressions, offensive to the commons. He delared the inviolabihty of all feudal rights, both the useful and the honorary. He even indulged in reproaches against the tiers etat. He commanded the separate sit- tings of the orders; thus aiming a blow at the favorite measure of the commons. He ordered their obedience and their acquiescence to such measures as he, his minis- ters, and his court should ordain. In this instance, Louis XVI. exhibited the peculiar weakness of his character. He had nothing in view but the interests of his subjects. This he had clearly shown on various occasions. He was himself not a luxurious, not a tyrannical, not an extravagant, nor a lavish prince. He had not a single vice of his own. But he was unhap- pily the tool of the worst vices of other men. In this in- stance he was persuaded, by his selfish and unprincipled court, that the most determined and resolute measures alone were desirable at this crisis; and he accordingly used them. The effect was just what might have been expected. The commons were deeply incensed. The breach was made wider than before ; the evil was only aggravated. The nobility and clergy withdrew from the hall after the conclusion of the king's address. The com- mons remained. Mirabeau made a rude and offensive al- lusion to the address of the king, whose suggestions were considered by the assembly as tyrannical and impertinent. A subsequent offer by the higher orders to unite mth the commons, coming as it did with very bad grace, and pro- duced by the effect of necessity and of apprehension on THE NEW CONSTITUTION. 105 their part, was not calculated to allay the existing bad feeling. This was the first measiire of open hostility and contradiction, between the national assembly and the king and court, which had occurred ; and it was but a prelude to greater ones. The next great question which was presented for the consideration of the assembly, was the establishment of a new constitution for the French people. The constitu- tion agreed upon by that sage assemblage, after protracted and violent deliberations, comprised among others the following principles: That the nation makes all laws, with the royal sanction; that the national consent is necessary for loans and taxes ; that taxes can be granted only for the period from one convocation of the states- general till another ; that property and individual liberty shall be sacred ; and that the person of the king shall be sacred and inviolable. While the deliberations of the assembly were progress- ing, the king, listening to the slanders of the court, dis- missed Necker from the ministry. This measure was in- judicious, and filled the raving multitude with fhry. For the first time in the history of this memorable revolution, the streets of Paris resounded with the cry " to arms ! " and the enraged rabble poured like a flood though the thoroughfares of the capital. The citizens of the higher class assembled, to protect themselves against the attacks both of the populace, and of the royal troops. This was the primary of igin of the National Guards. After vari- ous conflicts in the streets between the rioters and the defenders of order, a temporary quiet was obtained. The fury of the rabble, or the present, had spent itsel£ E* 106 THE BASTILLE. The troojjs which the king had stationed in the Champs des 3Iars, ^ere withdrawn. And yet, the pervading quiet was but a kill m the storm, which was only accumu- lating, by rejjose, intenser elements of exjjlosion. It was now evident to every one who observed the state of feeling in Paris, the great center of excitement and of action thoughout France, that the disaffected multitudes who crowded the purlieus and the dens of the capital, having tasted once the sweets of excitement and license, like the beast of prey which has caught the scent of blood, would not henceforth relapse into their accus- tomed quiet and apathy. For some days idle and noisy crowds had thronged about the Bastille. This was a memorable edifice, and calculated from its remarkable his- tory and the exciting scenes connected with it, to attract around it the growing vengeance of the new masters of France — the rabble. Gradually the noA'el shout, " To the Bastille ! to the Bastille ! " resounded through Paris. The destruction of this ancient fortress of despotism had been alluded to already in some of the deliberations of ' the national assembly. The populace yielding to tlie hereditary vengeance with which they roj^^irded that worst adjunct and most offensive appendage of past and present despotism, determined on its immediate destruction. But arms were entirely wanting to accomf)lish this de- sirable end. The Bastille was a fortress of vast strength, whose origin was traced back to the eighth century, and which had been carefully fortified by the fears and the jealousy of many succeeding sovereigns. It was no easy task to scale its stupendous and lofty battlements ; to dis- mantle its strong towers ; to demolish its thick and mas- THE ATTACK ON THE BASTILLE. 107 sive walls ; within which the cells were built, where the unhappy victims of despotism during so many ages had worn away in sohtude, in gloom, and in despair, the cheerless years of their existence. But the populace were determined on its destruction. It was rumored that arms were to be had at the Hotel de Ville. The ci'OM'ds rushed thither and carried oif the cannon, and a great quantity of muskets. An immense concourse of people then crowded around the Bastille. The commandant of the fortress, Delaunay, had determined on a vigorous and desperate defense. But the number of men who manned it were few and feeble. It contained but thirty-two Swiss, and eighty-three Invalides. A fresh mob arrived to the assistance of those already assembled around the building. The garrison summoned the assailants to retire. They refused, and began to press onward to the attack. Two men mounted the roof of the guard-house, and broke with axes the chains which suspended the draw-bridge. It fell down and the crowd rushed upon it. They were met and arrested by a discharge of musketry. The crowd for a moment halted, returned the fire, and then rushed onward. A deputation at this moment arrived from the king, ordering the commandant to admit a de- tachment of the Paris militia within the fortress. This did not satisfy the insurgents. The mob rushed forward to set fire to the building. The garrison discharged one of the cannon which were mounted on the battle- ments, and this fire was returned by the crowd with the pieces which they had brought with them. Meanwhile the excitement became intense throughout Paris. The tocsin pealed solemnly and continually. The 108 THE GARRISON CAPITULATES. di'ums beat the generate. The mcreasing multitude flowed on through every street, screammg, roaring, and raging. The faubourg St. Antoine, with its countless masses of ragged and desperate wretches, seemed march- ing on the BastiUe as one man. The infinite hum of an- gry voices swelled upon the breeze as they advanced. It was a subUme though terrible spectacle. Never be- fore had such a scene been presented in the history or man. The attack was beginning at length to make an im- pression on the small and feeble garrison. But Delaunay was a man of heroic and determined courage. He was re- solved that this ancient fortress should never yield to the attack of an irregular and ragged mob. He seized a lighted match, with the intention of setting fire to the magazine and blowing up the fortress. But the rest of the garrison were not quite as heroic as himself, and were not willing to share the desperate fate of the commandant. They prevented his purpose ; obliged him to capitulate ; and the signal of surrender was made. The crowds rushed in and took tumultuous possession of all the courts ; threw open the cells and let in the cheering light of day, upon many a gloomy abode of hopeless sorrow and despair. Then were thrown open and exposed to the unutterable horror of men, the instruments of tor- ture and vengeance which had long been the scourge of France, and the execration of mankind. Within those walls nine feet thick, those torture-chambers, and those dark and damp cells, what terrible cruelties had been perpe- trated, during many generations ! Let us pause for a mo- ment and consider this matter. There, within those cells, THE DEMOLITION OF THE BASTILLE. 109 youth and beauty in the prime of their splendor, had often been immolated to jealousy and hatred. There had noble manhood pined away an existence, far worse than death itself, without any hope for the future, or any joy in the present. There had perished the countless vic- tims of the cruelty, lust, and jealousy of Richelieu,' of Mar zarin, of De Ritz, of Pompadour, of Catherine de Med- ici, of Louis XIV., and of the many other besotted and infamous tyrants, who at different times had swayed the destinies of France ; had expended her treasures in Ucen- tious luxury ; and had made the ruin of others subservi- ent to their own ends. All this was now to be no more. The victims of absolute power were no longer to pine away beneath its destructive blight. The prisoners who then inhabited those cells came forth — horrid specunens of blasted humanity, frantic with joy, and as terrible in their present exultation, as in their former woe. The mob struck off the head of Delaunay, the commandant, and rushed with it and with the keys of the Bastille, to the Hotel de Ville, where the electors were assembled. The latter sent a deputation to the king at Versailles, informing hkn of the events which had just taken place. The king immediately resolved to go the next morning to the nar tional assembly, to consult with them on the perilous sit- uation of affairs. When the king entered the hall, it rang with applause. He came without guards and without attendants. His two brothers alone accompanied him. He made a simple and touching address, which excited the enthusiasm of the • assembly. For the first time he called it by the title it had arrogated to itself— the national assembly. The 110 RECALL OF NECKER. deputies, when the address was ended, ascorted him on foot to the palace. The queen beheld the approaching crowd from a balcony, holding her son, the dauphin, in her arms. She was cheered with enthusiasm. It seemed, indeed, as if a reconciliation had at length been made between the alienated powers of the state ; be- tween the heir of royalty, and the zealous representa- tives of the French people. It was but a passing gleam of sunshine, which illumined for a moment a vast hemis- phere of lowering storms and destructive tempests. General La Fayette, but recently returned from his American expedition, was appointed governor of Paris ; and the king himself resolved to go thither, and take up his residence in the capital, as a safer and more ap- propriate asylum amid the existing troubles. He was honorably received on his approach by Bailly, at the head of the municipal authorities, at the gates of Paris ; who presented him the keys. He passed on to the Hotel de Ville. He there made another simple and touching ad- dress to the multitude. His words were received with applause. The monarch seemed again to have secured a reconciliation with Paris, just as he had already done with the national assembly. He heightened the popular enthusiasm in his favor, at this moment, by announcing his determination to recall Necker to the ministry. An express was immediately sent by the king to Basle, to an- nounce to the exiled minister, at once his recall to power, and the disgrace and banishment of his opponents, the Polignac faction. Necker immediately set out for Paris ; and his journey through this land of his adoption was one • constant series of triumphs and congratulations. ACTS PASSED BY THE ASSEMBLY. m Meanwhile the national assembly proceeded with its discussions on the provisions of the new constitution. The first great object of their hostility Avas the feudal privileges, which had, for so many ages, been the curse and bane of France. After long deliberation, the assem- bly resolved upon the following fundamental principles as the future basis of French government, and French liberty : That the quality of serf should be forever abol- ished ; that all seignorial distinctions should be removed ; that exclusive rights to keep game, to hunt, to have dove- cotes and warrens, and aU tithes should be abohshed; that ah taxes should be equaUzed ; that all citizens should be admitted to civil and military employments ; that the sale of offices and pensions without claims should also be abohshed. These important and wise decrees were presented to the king, in the new constitution, for his ac- ceptance and ratification. His answer was a simple ac- ceptance, with a promise " to promulgate." He did not in form approve of them. He reserved his final judg- ment upon the points or decrees already submitted to him, until the whole constitution had been agreed upon by the assembly. This partial refusal of Louis to acquiesce in whatever the representatives of the people might require of him, filled that excitable assembly with rage. All the good and conciliatory impression produced by the passages of friendship which had just occurred between the sovereign and his subjects were lost, and their influence wholly ef- faced by the irritating effect of his hesitation to yield an impHcit and prompt obedience to their demands. i J 2 BRIGHT SIDE, OF THE REVOLUTION. So far, the objects and the results of the French revo- lution may be approved of by every rational observer, as commendable. The abohtion of old abuses which had been decreed by the assembly, was a good measure. The destruction of the Bastille was a desirable one. And whatever else the revolution had effected, until this crisis, was on the whole, an improvement upon the past, and held forth portents of hope and prosperity for the future. But from this hour the darker side of the revolutionary picture begins to appear. From this hour Louis be- comes a persecuted, injured, outraged martyr to the in- sensate fory of an excited and misled assembly and na- tion. From this hour nothing but evil can be discerned in the principles asserted, in the measures adopted, and in the crimes committed by the revolution, its leaders, and its agents. We see from this period, a disposition displayed on the part of those who had risen unexpect- edly to the guidance of public affairs, to run into the worst excesses ; to overturn whatever was an appendage or a product of the past ; and to revel in the blood and ruin first of their sovereigns, then of their associates, and lastly of their country itself The hopes which all wise and good men had entertained, and which many of them had expressed at the beguming of the revolution, now began to be disappointed. They no longer praised and com- mended this great moving of the popular mind. They saw in it henceforth nothing but injury, and that continu- ally, to aU the political, social, and religious interests of the nation. The representatives of the people were now completely alienated from Louis XVL and they sought evciy-.vhero FAULTS OF THE QUEEN. 113 for grounds to justify the hostility which they had com- menced, and were determined to pursue. Unfortunately, the members of his own family furnished causes of offense to these captious observers. The con- duct and character of Maria Antohiette were by no means as unobjectionable as that of her husband. As is generally the case, the few acts of indiscretion, perhaps of vice, which she committed were immensely magnified and per- verted ; so that she soon lost all hold upon the popular reverence and respect. In the first place, she discarded all the ancient forms of etiquette, observed in the French court, whenever a whim led her so to do. She even vio- lated decorum, and afterward failed to conceal it. She frequently left the palace at all hours of the evening ; she would walk alone in the park ; she would carefully elude her husband's search after her, by sleeping out of her own chamber, in contempt of the established usages of the court. An ecclesiastic, respectable for his virtues, and his distinction as a physician, being sent for by her, he found her stretched out naked at full length, in her bath. The ecclesiastic modestly drew back ; but she summoned him to her side ; compelled him there to converse with her ; and to admire the beautiful sjonmetry of her person. It was in this attitude that she had her picture drawn, and exhibited even in a public display of works of ai't. Madame de Noailles reproved her for these indiscretions ; and in return the queen named her Madam, d'' Etiquette. The French people had learned to regard the queen as an Austrian, not as a French woman. The visit of her brother Joseph II., emperor of Germany, to Paris, in- creased the popular aversion to the house of Hapsburg. 114 JOSEPH II. VISITS PARIS. . He penetrated into the manufactories, dock-yards, and ports. He made requests at Havre -whicli were directly promotive of his own maritime interests, to the prejudice of those of France. The merchants' and artists thought that he visited France rather as a jealous spy than as an admiring guest. He traveled with his brother, the arch- duke MaximiUan. When on a visit to BufFon, the nat- uralist, the author as a matter of courtesy offered him an expensive copy of hie Natural History. The arch- duke very properly declined to deprive the author of it ; but Joseph II. immediately requested the work for him- self in so direct a manner, that courtesy forbade a refusal. On the whole, the visit of the brothers of the queen to her adopted country, produced an unfavorable impression upon a nation, whose suspicions and whose resentment were already aroused. After their departure, the position of Maria Antoinette became more friendless than before. Slanders more in- jurious and serious than the preceding ones, were circu- lated respecting her. She was directly accused, by popu- lar scandal, of admitting her lovers to her embraces. Of this number was Edward DUlon, termed the handsome ; M. De Cogni, and the Count d'Artois. " We made this discovery at cards," said a lady of the court, at the time it occurred ; " for the Count d'Artois trod on the toes, and pinched Madam de B. in a moment of thoughtlessness, thinking it was Maria Antoinette." So publicly was the queen accused of depraved morals, that Madam de Marsan made serious representastions on the subject to the king. She was accused of carrying on a secret connection with Madam Bertin, a famous procu. ORGIES OF THE TRIANON. 115 ress of the capital, and Iike\nse with M'dlles Guimond, Renaud, and Gentil. It was knawn, that after the king retired to rest, the queen in company Anth the Count d' Art ois mixed with the suspicious crowd who promenaded at that hour on the terrace. Many persons came there from the palace all disguised — the queen among the rest. The degree of liberty there taken by the maskers, degenerated into licentiousness. Many of the young lib- ertines of the court were present ; and on one occasion, a handsome guard clu corps dared to flatter himself with hopes of the queen. He accosted her, and in a decisive manner said, "Madam forgive my boldness ; but either gratify me or die ! " The queen immediately repUed, " Neither, sir." She however had him followed ; and af- terward promoted his advancement. The secret orgies at the small palace of the Trianon., excited the apprehension of the king. Within the closed doors of this building the queen and her intimate friends amused themselves with various games. Some of them were not of the most deUcate or innocent nature. On one occasion the party, after reading an account in BufFon of the loves of the stags, thought it would be very enter- taining to represent those animals, in dresses made of their skins. It is said that after the company had ranged about the recesses of the gardens in the singular costume of those animals, they thought it also entertaining to par- take of their pleasures ! The consequence of these indulgences may be easily conjectured. The queen was at length accused even of a love of variety. To the handsome Dillon, to Coigne, and to her other admirers, it was said M. de Fersen succeeded, 116 DISTINGUISHED IMPOSTORS. who was able more successftilly than they, to fix and hold her volatile affections. She spared no expense in h.>r jjleasures. For her private estabUshment she yearly spent four millions six hundred thousand livres. Trianon cost the nation seventy-two thousand livres ; and the palace of St. Cloud cost four hundred thousand. There were other disreputable transactions of the court which about this period increased the contempt and dis- satisfaction of the French nation, and helped among other causes, to produce the destruction of the government and the triumph of the revolutionary agitators. The period of which we speak was also the age of em- pirics and impostors. The names and exploits of Caglios- tro, of Mesmer, of St. Germain, and of Bleton, now occur j all celebrated masters in the arts of imposition, of solemn and mysterious humbug. We find in the records of that period, materials and events which prove that then it was, that the impostures of modern spiritual rappers and me- diums were first practiced, in precisely the same way, and for the same results, as they are in the present day. Unhappily for Louis XVI. some of his own family became the despised victims of the impostures of these wretches. Count Caghostro enabled Cardinal Rohan to sup with the deceased D'' Alembert., with the king of Prussia, and with Voltaire, all dead some years before. He con'vinced his eminence, that the worker of these wonders had liimself been present with Christ at the marriage in Cana of Gallilee. But still higher and nobler game was sought for by those shameless impostors, and the French nation were aston- ished and disgusted to hear that the duke of Orleans had THEIR MYSTERIOUS TRICKS. II7 become the dupe of one of the leading jugglers of the dJiy. One day, on entering his library, he there found a man awaiting him, of austere and remarkable countenance ; who told him that he could raise the prince of darkness, and learn from him the mysteries of futurity. The duke accepted the offer of the magician, who required however that he should have courage to trust himself with the lat- ter in a pathless plain, alone, and at the dead hour of midnight. The duke acquiesced in each of these propo- sals, and went with the impostor to the center of a vast heath unattended, in a dark and stormy night. He over- came the terror which at first arose in his breast, at the sight of the numerous specters which sm-rounded him. After various admonitions and prophecies he gave the duke a ring. " Keep this carefully, " said the infernal spirit ; " as long as it remains in your possession, it T\dll be a token of prosperity and happiness ; as soon as you lose it, your doom is sealed." The magician refused a purse of five hundred louis which the prince offered him on their safe return. When describing this incident to others the duke would open his breast, and exhibit the ring, carefully attached to his person. In these incidents we see the origin and the operation of the spiritual communications of the present day. In the triumphs of Cagliostro, of Mesmer, and of St. Germain, which at this period were at their greatest height, we behold another instance of the uprooting of the firm and stable foundations of society in an excessive desire for novelties, and a restless itching after things new, mysteri- ous, and wonderful. The French were in the eager pur- suit of such novelties both in philosophy, theoretical and 118 CARDINAL DE ROHAN. practical ; in religion, in moral opinions, in politics, and the organization of their government. WhUe Mesmer declared that, with the point of his finger, he could direct the mysterious magnetic fluid to any part of the body, which Avas the seat of disease, and thus cure dropsy, the gout, palsy, deafness, blindness, and every other evil inci- dent to the human fi-ame ; so in the same way, and with the same degree of truth, did Voltaire and Rosseau pre- tend to teach mankind the true principles of religion ; and Murat and Robespierre assume to assert the excel- lence of their doctrines in support of political equality, and of human freedom. ~ Other untoward events conspired about this period to increase the unpopularity of the royal family, and to con- centrate its misfortunes upon the head of Louis XVI. Among these one of the most important, most mysterious, and most injurious, was the memorable affair of the diar mond necklace. It is difficult to obtain a clear and satis- factory account of this mysterious event, which exerted so powerful an influence on the destiny of France. We will however state its origin and its results. When Cardinal de Rohan, who belonged to one of the oldest and most illustrious families of the French nobility, was sent as minister from Louis XV. to Vienna, he was requested to describe Maria Antoinette to one of his cor- respondents at Paris. He drew rather an offensive pic- ture of the then youthful arch-duchess. By some acci- dent this unfavorable representation of the cardinal be- came known to her, and at once filled her mind with im- placable hatred toward its author. Upon her arrival in France, Rohan attempted on various occasions, to regaui THE DIAMOND NECKLACE. 119 her good will. All his efforts were in vain. Previous to the death of Louis XV. Bohmer the croAvn jeweler, had prepared a magnificent diamond necklace of immense vahie, for Madam Du Barry, the kmg's favorite. That monarch's death diverted the expensive gift from its origi- nal destination, and left it upon the hands of the jeweler. Rohan heard of the jewel, and also heard that Bohmer had desired to sell it to the queen, who declined to pur- chase it on account of its great value and immense price. A prostitute of the Palais Royal, named Lamoth, being in ne- cessitous circumstances, and being acquainted both A\ath the cardinal and with his desire to secure the queen's favor, and even her embraces, conceived a plot whereby to obtain the jewel, and to ruin the priest. She went to Bohmer and told him that the queen had changed her mind, and desired to purchase the necklace, stipulating only that she should pay at intervals, and that the whole transaction should be kept secret from the king. Bohmer agreed to these terms. She added that in support of her assuran- ces, she would present him with a letter from the queen, and that one of the first men of the court would wait upon him, and conclude the bargain. The cunnmg courtesan next went to the cardinal. She 4old him that the queen would not only accord him her friendship, but even her more tender favors, on condition that he would present her with this diamond necklace. The cardinal consented to the bargain. He waited on Bohmer ; represented to him that the queen wished the jewel ; that she had commissioned him to purchase it for her, stipulating that the first payment should be made in August ensuing. The price was to be fourteen hundred 120 ADROITNESS OF LA-MOTH. thousand livres — three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The jewel was then delivered to M'Ue Lamoth, to deliver it to Maria Antoinette. In the meantime the cardinal ex- pected his promised interview with the queen. The cun- ning of the prostitute did not faU her in this part of the intrigue. She informed the cardinal that Maria Antoi- nette had appointed to meet him in a remote spot of the gardens at Versailles ; that she would be dressed in white ; and that she would make herself known by presenting him \vith a white rose. She then selected one of her aban- doned associates, whose person and gait somewhat re- sembled that of the queen, who, at the time and place ap- pointed, appeared in the partial darkness ; gave him the rose ; allowed him to kiss her hand ; and then, an alarm being purposely made, commanded him hastUy to retire. The day for payment at length arrived. The expected money did not come ; nor did the queen, the supposed debtor to Bohmer, make any apology or explanation for her neglect. Bohmer sent a message to the queen, desiring to know why the first payment had not been made. She was thunderstruck. It was the first intimation which she had received of the matter. Bohmer was sent for. Among other proofs, he produced a letter from the cardinal, sta- ting that the necklace had been duly delivered to the queen. After arranging all her information respecting the matter, she communicated it to the king. The cardinal, who was then at the palace as grand almoner, was sent for at midnight, into the king's cabinet, where the queen awaited him. The king demanded to know whether he had recently purchased any jewels of Bohmer. The car- dinal answered that he had, and he thought that they had EFFECT OF THE INTRIGUE. 121 been deliverecl to the queen. The king asked who em- ployed him in that commission ? He replied, a lady whom he believed to he connected with the court, named Lamoth. The cardinal then said, that he plainly per- ceived he had been imposed upon. He was so much over- come with terror, that he was compelled to lean upon the table for suppoit. The king then ordered him to with- draw ; and he was arrested on leaving the palace. Md'lle Lamoth was also imprisoned, hut she had sent the jewels comjDosiag the necklace already to England, and they were then beyond the reach of recovery. She at first de- nied all knowledge of the affair ; and directed the king to inquire of Cagliostro, the famous impostor. The car- dinal was afterward tried, and honorably acquitted. La- moth was executed, after being scourged. Cagliostro was at first arrested; and then banished from the French territory. Such was the end of this lamentable intrigue. But the impression produced at that time against the queen, and against Louis XVI., by its unfortunate occurrence, was very powerful. The French people thought that the vir- tue of Maria Antoinette must be very questionable indeed among those who knew her best, if a false appointment, or if even the pretense of a pretended assignation, could be made for her for such a purpose. But whether true or false, whether innocent oi* guilty, the perverse and ex- cited minds of the nation were determined to put the worst possible construction upon the conduct of the proba- bly innocent and unconscious queen. Nor was this inju- rious impression afterward removed, t r even weakened, F 122 INGUEASIXG DIFFICULTIES. by a decree of the national assembly exculpating her from all blame. It was at this period in the progress of the revolution, that the king said one day to M. Necker, who had been recalled to the ministry, " For several years I have only enjoyed a few moments of happiness^'' Necker replied, "Yet a Uttle while, sire, and you will feel differently; all will yet end well." Vain and delusive hope ! Ever since the refusal of Louis XVI. to apjDrove without re- serve aU those articles of the new constitution which had been determined upon by the national assembly, and sent to him for hLs acceptance, his fate seemed to be inevita- bly and unalterably sealed. The discussions which imme- diately ensued upon his refusal being reported to the assembly, first called out into prominence three men who afterward became notorious and infamous, on the bloody and tumultuous stage of the revolution — Robes- pierre, Mirabeau, and Danton. The first of these declared with a Adolence which, for the first time, attracted to him the attention of the whole assembly, that it was not the province or the prerogative of the king to criticise the decisions of the assembly. While the assembly was distracted from day to day, by the most violent discussions— the particulars of which are not pertinent to this history — the crowds of Paris were incensed against the court and ministry, in consequence of the scarcity of provisions. A deputation of incensed and frantic women forced their way into the presence of Louis, and laid before him their complaints and their grievances. He received them kindly, as it ever v as his custom to do ; and by the mildness and moderation of his TRIUMPH OF MIRABEAU. 123 manner disarmed their fury. Women, if properly ad- dressed, generally listen to reason, and feel the influence of softening emotions. They retired, appeased by the re- ception which they had received. He ordered the mu- nicipal authorities to distribute bread among this crowd, who seemed to be in absolute want of it. For some rea- son, however, his order was not complied with, and the odium of this neglect rested on the king alone. The royal family had now taken up their residence in Paris, in the palace of the Tuilleries, which had not been inhabited for a century. A guard of the Parisian militia was placed around it, commanded by Lafayette, who was thus made responsible for the person of the king. By this arrangement the Avhole appearance of the court was iramediately changed. There was in effect no longer any court at all. The aristocracy were excluded fi-om the royal presence by the restraint under which the king was placed. From that hour they considered him in reality a prisoner ; and then commenced that process of emigration which deprived France of some of its noblest blood, while it se- cured many of them from the horrors of the guillotine, which overtook so many of their associates. From this moment the popular party in France may be regarded as triumphant. It was then under the guidance and control of Mirabeau, Barnave, Lamoth, and the duke of Orleans. While great numbers of the nobles were es- caping to Turin, and to Coblentz, the royal family be- came more and more deserted ; the number and fury of its enemies increased ; the audacity of the demagogues was elevated ; and it seemed an easier task and a richer sport to these unprincipled wretches, to play with the 124 HE JOINS THE COURT PARTY. royal prerogatives, and to ruin the welfare and destroy the existence of the unhappy but illustrious family who were then at their mercy. It was at this period that Mirabeau, who, by his revo- lutionary eloquence had greatly contributed to sap the foundations of the trembling throne, seeing his ambition of popular supremacy thwarted and intercepted by other demagoges as aspiring, as violent, and as unprincipled as himself, bethought him of the project of standing as a mediator between the throne and the tribune, between the king and the assembly. The court first tampered with him by means of Malouet, an agent of Necker. He stipu- lated that his debts should be jjaid, and that he should have a place in the ministry. On these conditions he con- sented to espouse the cause of the king and the court ; to assert that the concessions in favor of hberty which were already gained were sufficient ; and that it was now time to arrest the advancing tide of revolution- and of change. CHAPTER IV. THE TEEEIBLE POWER OF R013ESPIEREE AND THE JACOBIN CLUB. When the period arrived for the dissolution of the na- tional assembly of France, in 1792, it had accomplished far greater results than had ever been expected of it. Not even the most sanguine Jacobins of the day had an- ticipated that the representatives of the people would, in so short a time, so completely have degraded and debased the throne and all its time-honored institutions, and that it would so thoroughly have established the reign of popu- lar prerogative and supremacy in their stead. The new assembly which was about to convene as their successors, included among its members men whose names were then wholly unknown to fame, but whose talents soon placed them on an equality in distinction, mth any who had already figured in the national assembly. These were the deputies of La Qhronde^ a department of France which produced many celebrated statesmen, of whom Con- dorcet was the most profound and Vergniaud was the most eloquent. In addition to this change in the legislative assembly of France, another alteration had taken place in the political machinery of the country. The democratic clubs had now become omnipotent. The most remarkable and danger- ous of these, was that of the Jacobins^ so called from hold- 126 J'-fiE OF ROBESBIERRE. ing their nicetings in the old suppressed monastery of the Jacobin monks. This building, whose form was that of an ampitheater, and was admirably adaj^tcd to the purposes of popular elo- quence, having been appropriated to their own use by the oldest and largest of the political clubs m all France, the' assemblage soon become the most violent, and the most terrible of its associates. It was at this period, (1792,) that the influence of Ro- bespierre first began to displaj'' its baleful supremacy in the French capital. He was excluded from the new legis- lative assembly, by a decree of the national convention to the passage of which, he had himself contributed ; which forbade any of the members of the first rejaresentative body to be rechosen as members of the second. But he was now the most distinguished and able member of the Jacobin club ; and it was through the proceedings of this club, that he first made his terrible power known and felt throughout France. After Mirabeau, Robespierre was the most extraordina- ry man produced by the revolution. It has long been the prevalent fashion to represent him as a person devoid of all talent, and as amass of moral deformities, without one sin gle redeeming trait. This estimate of the blood-stained Jacobin, bad as he really was, is absurd in the extreme. There never lived in any age, an adventurer who gave more unanswerable proofs of the possession of great abili- ties. He possessed t?ie very same order of talent for which Demosthenes himself is so justly celebrated : — that impetuous and powerful eloquence wliich could sway the turbulent passions of men ; which could control the feel- HIS RESEMBLANCE TO DEMOSTHENES. 127 liigs and direct the resolutions of vast assemblies ; which could arouse, excite, alann, and convince heterogeneous multitudes ; which could govern their stormy impulse;:, and make them subservient to the orator's purposes. Just as Demosthenes aroused the assembled Athenians against the aggressions of the crafty monarch of Macedon, by the clarion tones of his voice, as it reverberated around the JBema at Athens ; so did Robespierre excite the Parisians who Ustened to his impassioned words, against the an- cient throne of the Bourbons, and against the inoffensive king who sat upon it ; whom, with words as burning and as scathing as any which ever issued from the lips of Demosthenes, he denounced and stigmatized as a tyrant even worse than Philip of Macedon. Both of these ora- tor's arose to power from utter obscurity. Both of them aimed their fury against already existing institutions. Both operated only upon the popular will, and used the masses as the obsequious instruments of their purposes. Both passed through great intellectual conflicts. Both employed but one single 'reapon — the tongue. Both were successful in accomplishing the object of their ambition. And both perished at last by a violent death. Such are the singular coincidences between the lives of these two remarkable men. The only difference between their men- tal qualities is that, while Robespierre was the more un- bending, pertinacious, and penetrating genius of the two ; Demosthenes was the more massive, comprehensive, and immense. Robespierre was a suitable representative of the more attenuated intellectual and physical proportions of these latter ages. Demosthenes was a fit model of the larger intellectual and physical dimensions of those prime- 128 EXTENT OF HIS ABILITIES. val times when giants lived ; when the race possessed its primitive grandeur and greatness, and before the artificial luxuries and pernicious usages of succeeding generations had reduced the proportions of the race, though they may have conferred more refinement and more cultiva- tion by the process. Robespierre had been an obscure attorney at Arras, the place of his birth. But many other men have passed their youths in obscurity, from the want of circumstances favorable to the development of greatness. Such was the case with Robespierre. His first efibrts at eloquence like those of the great man with whom we have just compared him, were total failures. His delivery was awkward and heavy. But by dint of great perseverance and great reso- lution, he succeeded in acquiring such a mastery in this difficult and noble art, that he had no equal nor compet- itor even among the many talented men whom France at that time sent up to her national representation. If the great test of talent, or even of genius, is success in whatever men undertake, then was Robespierre gifted in- deed. His abihty is proved by the fact that, whilst he enjoyed no advantages of birth or influence ; while he possessed even no external gifts of nature to recommend him to admiration, or to facihtate his j^rogress toward power, he overcame every obstacle, and every deficiency ; and by the pure force of 7?iind and of thought alone ac- quired a supremacy and wielded a scepter as absolute al- most as that of Napoleon himself. This was the man, whose obnoxious name and influence were now frequently brought to the notice of Louis, and of the court ; and vrbo soon became their most unyielding and implacable en cm v. ' THE EMIORA TS AND PRIESTS. 129 The first question which engaged the attention of the new assembly, was that of the emigrants. " Monsieur," the king's brother, had ah-eady left the kingdom. The assembly demanded of Louis that he would request his return, on penalty of being deprived of the regency, should any event occur which would render the functions of a regent necessary. Loius XVI. addressed his brother a letter, requesting him earnestly to comply with the de- mands of the legislature. That body also proclaimed certain penalties, and imposed certain disabilities, upon all other French citizens, who had passed beyond the terri- tory of their country, and who then refused to return. The constituent assembly also required the jjriesthood to take the civic oath. Those who refused to comply with this demand lost their character as ministers of public worship, paid by the state ; though they retained their professional position, and the liberty of exercising their functions in private. The legislative assembly now went a step further. They required the oath to be taken anew, and deprived those priests who refused so to do of all emoluments whatever, and forbade them to exer- cise their professional functions even in private; just as if an assemblage of debauched secular adventurers, could by any human possibility, deprive men of a spiritual char- acter, derived from a source infinitely higher than any human origin, or dispossess them of a spiritual function which they could neither giye nor withdraw ! In conse- quence of the hostile feelings which had long existed be- t'.veen the French nation and Austria, and which had been hourly increasing, the legislative assembly determined to declare war against that country, and compelled Louis F* hom I leave behind ?ne, uncertain of their J-ute. . Hut v:e u-ill be reunited., at last, in Jleaven." Overcome by his emotions, he added no more. The convention had yet one more question to decide, in reference to their l)elpless victim. It Avas whetlier there should be any reprieve. It was determhied that each deputy should vote in his seat, either yes or no. Three hundred and ten voted for delay. Three liundred and eighty voted against it. It was thereupon decreed that Louis should die within twenty-four hours! This me;norable session of the convention hail occupied seventy-two hours. It might reasonably be suj:posed that on so solemn an occasion, suitable order and decorum 108 SCENES m THE ASSEMBLY. would have characterized the behavior of the assembly. The reverse was actually the case. The most disgraceful scenes occurred. The further extremity of the haU was converted into seats and private boxes. These were filled with notorious prostitutes, dressed in the immodest style which befitted their profession ; and there they re- ceived the compliments of their acquaintances among the m^embers, and were entertained with ices, oranges, and liquors. Several females particularly attracted the atten- tion of the whole assemblage, by the superior splendor of their dress, and by their majestic and voluptuous beauty. A particular box was appropriated to their use. They were two of the mistresses of the duke of Orleans, The galleries were also filled with women. Some of these were the insane female Jacobins, who had taken a prominent part in the insurrections of the capital. They were drinking brandy, laughing, and jesting. Bets were lightly made upon the issue of the trial. Impatience and disgust seemed to sit on every countenance. The figures of the deputies, passing silently to and fro, as they de- jjosited their votes, rendered more ghastly and ghost-like by the feeble and uncertain light of the wax tapers as the night advanced, augmented the horrid gloom of the scene. Some of the deputies had fallen asleep, and were only awakened to deposite their ballot of death against the king. As the hours of the night slowly advanced the confusion became more universal. When the duke of Orleans was' called on to vote, he proceeded toward the tribune with faltering step, and with a countenance paler than death DUKE OF ORLEANS VOTES FOR DEATH. ig9 He then read these words : " Influenced exclusively by my duty, and convinced tnat all those who resist the sov- ereignty of the people deserve to die, my vote is for death!'''' This unnatural decision given by the first prince of the blood, and evidently extorted by a craven fear of the popular power, called forth from every part of the hall groans and hisses of contempt. Even the fierce Jacobins failed to af)plaud the base tribute thus rendered to their terrible power, by this unworthy scion of a fallen but immortal race. The fate of Louis XVI. was now sealed forever. Well might the assembly pause and shudder at the act which it had just perpetrated. Well might all Paris be over- whelmed with gloom and sadness. A deed which filled the civilized world with horror, might readily have caused a few compunctious thoughts to its desperate perpetrators. The 'dreadful news was officially conveyed to the king, by a committee of the convention headed by Garat. The king received the news vnth calmness. His last request was for permission to see his family ; to have a confessor to assist him in his reUgious duties ; and liberty for his family to retire from France. He then ordered his dinner and ate as usual. He remarked the absence of knives on the table. He smiled and said, " Do not think me so weak as to lay violent hands on myself. I am innocent, and am not afraid to die." M. Edgeworth was the ecclesiastic whose assistance the king desired to have in his last moments. The most sad and painful duty of all yet remained for the prince to perform; and for this he summoned all his energy. It was to bid a last adieu to his family. Hia- lYO LOUIS' LAST INTERVIEW WITH HIS FAMILY. tory scarcely records among all its harrowing details, a scene more affecting and distressing than the parting in- terview between this unhappy and persecuted monarch, and his wife and children. The domestic affections of Louis were very strong. His attachment to his children was unusually intense. How great the contrast between the parting interview which Avas about to take place be- tween the members of that family, and the previous scenes of their history ! When Louis first embraced the beautiful and accomplished princess, his wife, whom he was now, for the last time, about to fold to his breast, how widely different had been their circumstances ! He was the youthful and happy heir-apparent to a splendid throne, with the prospect of a long and brilhant reign be- fore him. She was the most splendid and magnificent woman in Europe ; fall of bewitching grace and loveli- ness ; the proud daughter of an illustrious line of emper- ors ; her very presence was fascination ; and she was the perfection of a wife, a princess, and a queen. In the pos- session of her charms, and in the enjoyment of her love, Louis might have been regarded as the most fortunate and happy of men. That once blooming and brilliant form he was now about to press to his breast for the last time — a trembling, crushed, and shattered wreck of the blooming bride she once had been. The queen was apprised that the horn- for the final in- terview had arrived. She had been informed for some time of the fate which the assembly had decreed to her husband. At half past eight in the evening his door was opened, and his wife and children made their appearance. They all rushed into his arms. A sad silence prevailed THEIR INTEjS^SE GRIEF. l>fl for some minutes, broken only by sobs and groans. The king then sat down, his queen on one side, his sistei', Mad- am EUzabeth, on the other, his children between his knees. All were leaning on the king, and pressing Mm in their arms. The sad interview lasted two hours, during which time the unhappy family exchanged those tokens and ex- pressions of affection, which are always dear to hearts that are bursting with grief, and whose only consolation is then- mutual sympathy and their tears. At length the king rose, and moved toward the door. There he pressed each beloved one again for the last time affectionately to his breast. The tears and sobs of the heart-broken fami- ly were here renewed. Louis knew that it was for the last time that his eyes rested on those graceful forms he loved so well, though his family yet hoped for one more parting interview. " Farewell ! Farewell ! " said he, as he tore himself from their embraces, and rushed back into his chamber. The door then closed, and the king was left alone. Here for the first, and for the last time, his manly spii'it failed him, as weU it might ; and the faithful Clery, who waited at his door, overheard the* agonizing sighs and moans of his heart-broken master. In a few miuutes Louis recomposed himself, and sent for his confessor. During the night he slept well. The Abbe Edgeworth occupied Clery's bed hi the same apart- ment with the king. In the morning, the priest celebra- ted mass, at which impressive service the king assisted with proper reverence and devotion. He then confessed, and received the holy communion. The altar was con- structed of a chest of drawers, placed in the middle of the apartment. The priest's vestments were borrowed 172 LOUIS RECEIVES THE COMMUNION. from a church in the neighborhood of the Temple. Du- ring the service Louis was seated in an arm-chair, placed by Clery in front of the altar. He knelt upon a cushion which lay before him. It was thus that this last solemn and sacred rite was performed for the dying king. CHAPTER VJI. THE DEATH OF THE EOTAL MAKTTKS, LOUIS ZYl. AND XVII. The enormities of the French revolution would have remained incomplete, had they not been terminated by several additional acts of preeminent and unparalleled infamy. These acts were the execution of Louis XVI., the murder of his wife, the unfortunate and beautiful Maria Antoinette, and the ^slow but sure destruction of their son, the dauphin. When Louis was informed that the last hour of his ex- istence had arrived, he gave the signal to the few attend- ants who yet surrounded him, to advance. He and the Abbe Edgeworth occupied the back seat of the cai-riage. Several gen d^armes sat on the front. During the ride to the scene of this national murder, the king was engaged in devoutly reading in the breviary of the priest, the prayers appropriate to those about to die. It is said that the soldiers had express orders to destroy Louis should the carriage be attacked, and a rescue attempted by his partisans and friends. The scaffold had been erected in the Place de la Revo- lution. Around this immense area a large number of cannon had been planted, to suppress any movement which might be made in behalf of the victim. A vast multitude lined the whole route from the Temple to the place of execution. At precisely ten o'clock in the fore- noon the carriage, the progress of which had been very 1^4 LOUIS ASCENDS THE SC.IFFOLD. slow, halted, and Louis XVI. rising with energy, stepped forth into the area. Three executioners, eager for their infamous work, immediately seized his hands, in order to bind them behind him. The kmg was about to resist this tmnecessary insult, when, after a moment's reflection, he yielded, and submitted to this last indignity. He was thus conducted to the scaffold, accompanied by the priest. He ascended the steps with firmness, and having reached the summit of the platform, he looked around him with composure and dignity. There, the descendant of many illustrious kings had at length reached the last stage of his memorable and unfortunate career. From the height of that eminence he looked at the immense mul- titudes who had once proudly called him their sovereign, and who, but a few short years before, had hailed his ac- cession to the throne with loud and eager acclamations. He then gazed at that immense capital, which had been the brilliant home and seat of his long line of ancestors ; which had, for so many generations, been identified with their glory and their power ; and which they had so long delighted to adorn and beautify. Then turning from this spectacle, so pregnant mth affecting reminiscences of the past, and directing his eyes to the crowds immediately around the scaffold, he uttered in a voice loud, clear, and unwavering, these words : " Frenchmen, I die innocent of the crimes imputed to tne. J forgive the authors of my death. I pray that my blood may not fall upon FranceP He would have said more, but the command- ant, fearing perhaps tha't the words of the king might ex- cite a diversion in his favor, ordered the drums to beat. The loud and deafening clatter immediately drowned the HIS DEATH. 176 voice of the king, and he desisted. The executioners then took hold of him. They rudely dragged him be- neath the ax of the guillotine, and laid his head down upon the block. In a moment, the glittering blade fell heavily, and the head of Louis bounded with violence into the basket placed beneath the scafibld to receive it. In an instant, the earth and all its scenes faded from the con- sciousness of the murdered king; and as the ancient blood of the Bourbons crimsoned the soil over which they had so long swayed the scepter ; and as the freed spirit of Louis passed away forever from the earth ; the Abbe Edgeworth, overcome by the mournful grandeur of the scene, raised his hands, and exclaimed with impressive sublimity, " Son of St. Louis, ascend to heaven 1 " The execution occurred on the 21st of January, A. D. 1793. After a short time, the immense assembly gradually dis- persed. The body of the king was immediately conveyed, not to. the royal sepulchre of St. Denis, where the long line of French monarchs lay buried ; but his remains were hurried to the cemetery of the Madeleine, where the last sad burial rites were performed in sUence and sohtude, without the least circumstance of parade, by a few faith- ful and attached adherents of the royal family. The corpse was covered with quick-lime, which was intended to produce rapid decomposition, so that if the popular iury might, at any subsequent period, make an attempt to violate the sanctuary of the tomb, and commit any ad- ditional outrage upon these remains, the purpose might be prevented. The decomposition was so rapid and com- plete, that after the downfall of Napoleon in 1815, when 176 THE PLACE DE LA REVOLUTION. an effort was made by the restored family to recover the remains, not the least traces of them could be found. Louis was executed on the same spot, upon which af- terward Maria Antoinette, his sister, the princess Eliza- beth, and many of the noblest spirits in France terminated their existence in blood. It was also the very spot on which Danton and Robespierre subsequently expiated their innumerable crimes. It was the same spot on which the heroic Charlotte Corday met her fate, with a dignity worthy of immoi'tal honor, as one of the most resolute and devoted friends of true liberty. Years of mighty change and vicissitude to France rolled by ; and this same spot was again made memora- ble by the fact, that on it the assembled sovereigns and princes of Europe took their position, when the armies of the allied powers entered Paris in 1815, and once more restored the exiled Bourbons to their rightful throne. What affecting associations must cluster around the spot, which has been the scene of such amazing and such con- tradictory events ! The will of Louis XVI. which he prepared some time before his death, in anticipation of his fate, gives utter- ance to such sentiments as might be expected from so good a man, and so amiable a prince. What sublime re- signation and heroic courage are contained in the follow- ing words, which occur in it : " Abandoned by the whole universe, I now have none but God to whom I can ad- dress myself. Shut up with my family in the tower of the Temple at Paris, by those who- were once my subjects, and implicated in a process of which it is impossible for WILL OF LOmS XVL I77 me to foresee the issue, I thus declare my last wishes and sentiments : " I die in the bosom of our Holy Catholic, Apostolic, Roman church, I pray God to receive my deep repent- ance for having affixed my name, though it was done against my will, to any acts which were contrary' to the disciphne of the CathoUc faith, to which I have ever re- mained sincerely attached. I request those whom I may have madvertently offended — for I do not remember to have given offense to any intentionally — and those whom I may have unjustly charged with faults, to pardon the injury they may suppose me to have done them. " I forgive with all sincerity, those who may have been my enemies, without having received from me any injury ; , and I pray God to pardon them as well as all others who may have done me harm. " I commend to Almighty God my wife, my children, my aunts, my brothers, and all others who are connected with me by ties of blood. I pray God to look upon my family who suffer so much with me, with an eye of mercy, and to support them with his grace when I am dead. I commend my children to my wife. I have never doubted her maternal tenderness for them, I exhort her particu- larly to make them good christians and honest members of society ; to teach them to look upon the grandeurs of this world, if they should be so unfortunate as to possess them, as dangerous and perishable treasures, and to direct their attention to the only solid and durable glory of eternity. I entreat my sister to continue her tender- ness to my children, and to supply the place of a mother, should they ever have the misfortune to lose their own. H* 12 178 ITS CONTENTS. '•'I beseecli my wife to pardon all the miseries -which she endures on my account, and all the vexations I may have occasioned her, during the period of our union. And she may rest assured, that should she think that she has anything to reprove herself with respecting me, that I have ho such feeling or remembrance. " I recommend to my son, should he ever become un- fortunate enough to become a king, to reflect that he must devote himself to the happiness of his fellow-citizens ; that he ought to forget all hatred and resentment, espe- cially Avhat may relate to the suflferings I have endured ; that he may promote the happiness of his people by reign- ing according to the laws ; but at the same titne, that a king cannot cause the laws to berespected, unless he pos- sess a necessary degree of authority, and that otherwise confined in his operations and unable to inspire respect, he becomes more injurious than useful. " I recommend to my son, the dauphin, to take care of every person attached to me, as far as the circumstances in which he may find himself placed, may permit. There were some of those who were about me, that have not conducted themselves toward me as they ought to have done, and have been ungrateful. I forgive them, and I entreat my son only to think of their distresses. " I request the gentlemen of the commune to deliver to Clery my effects, my books, my watch, my purse, and the other little articies which were deposited at the coun- cil of the commune. I forgive the iU-treatmeut of those who have been my keepers during my captivity, and the harsh restrictions they thought themselves bound to prac- tice toward me. I have found some compassionate souls, CHARG-ES AGAINST THE QUEEN l^g May they enjoy that tranquillity in their hearts, which their reflections can bestow upon them. " I request M. M. Malesherbes, Tronchet and Desere, to accept my sincere thanks, and the wai-mest expressions of my sensibility, for the care and trouble they have given themselves on my account. " I conclude by declaring before God and the world, and as ready to appear in His presence, that I have not to reproach myself with any of the crimes which have been laid to my charge. " Written at the Temple, December 25th, A. D. 1792," But a few months after the judicial murder of Louis XVI., in October, 1793, his unfortunate wife and queen was compelled to undergo the same ignominious fate.* * The act of accusation against iier consisted of several charges, the substance of which was that she had contributed to the derangement of national finances, by remitting from time to time considerable sums to her brother, the Emperor Joseph ; that since the revolution she had continued to hold a. criminal correspondence with foreign powers ; that in every instance she had directed her views to a counter revolution, particularly in exciting the body guards and oth- ers of the military at Versailles, on the first of October, 1789 ; that in concert with Louis Capet she had distributed counter revolutionary papers and writings ; and even, to favor their purposes, some in which she was personally defamed ; that in the beginning of Octo- ber, 1789, by the agency of certain monopolists, she had created an artificial famine; that she was a principal agent and promoter of the flight of the royal family in June, 1791 ; that she instituted pri- vate councils in the palace, at which the massacres, as they were termed, in the Champ de Mars, and at Nancy, were planned; that in consequence of these councils, she had persuaded her husband to interpose his veto against the decrees concerning the emigrants and the refractory priests; and that she influenced him to form a guard composed of disaffected persons, and refractory priests. 180 ' DEATH OF MARIA ANTOINETTE. We know of no instance, in all the wide range of human vicissitude and misfortune, which furnishes so impressive and so affecting an illustration of the uncertainty and mutability of human greatness, as the case of this unhappy woman. We will not even except the sufferings of Mary, Queen of Scots; because her long imprisonment of eighteen years had gradually weaned her mind from earth, and had blunted her sensibility to pain. But the once fair daughter of Maria Theresa, born in the most brilhant court in Europe; the daughter, the sister, the wife, and the mother of kings ; descended from a long line of illustrious sovereigns, and allied by blood and marriage to every distinguished monarch in Europe ; she was not only executed as a common felon, but her body, in which coursed the proudest blood among a hundred royal dy- nasties, was buried with beggars in a common ditch. The bUl of the undertaker, who prepared the deal coffin for the fallen priacess, was worded thus : " JFbr the coffin of the widow Capet, seven francs ! " She, whose imperial an- cestors had for many generations been entombed with stately and imposing ceremonies, with solemn and seraphic melodies, in marble and gUded mausoleums, beneath the towering spire and Gothic dome of St. Stephen's ancient cathedral at Vienna ; upon whose exquisitely beautiful sarcophagi the most accompHshed talents of the sculptor had been expended; even she was consigned to the grave at last by brutal hands, amid savage and indecent jests, in a rude box, whose utmost cost to the state was seven francs ! And when twenty years afterward, the restored dynasty of the Bourbons endeavored to find, amid the mouldering and undistinguished dust of that common THE RECOVERY OF BEE REMAIIfS. 181 fosse, the remains of her who had once occupied so high a place, and had possessed such imperial state, only one poor mark or remnant of all her former glory could be found, rescued from the oblivion of the past. The crum- bling dust of the murdered queen, after a protracted search, "was recognized by the garter bearing upon it the royal arms of France, which still clasped the ghastly remains of those knees, before which chivalrous and gallant men of many nations had once been proud to bow in courtly admiration. By that garter alone, Maria Antoinette was then distinguished from the common herd of prostitutes, assassins, and vagabonds, which had so long surrounded her, and had commingled with her dust ! The great concern expressed by Louis XVI. in the destiny of his son and representative, the dauphin of France, and the Latrinsic interest of the subject itself, render it proper that the history of the one should be made complete by some detaUs respecting the life and fate of the other. Nor would we be able to form a correct idea of France and her people during the first revolution, were we to omit all statements respecting a theme so close- ly indentified with the subject of the preceding pages. Charles Louis, the dauphin of France, was the second son of Louis XVI. and Maria Antoinette ; and was born at Versailles, March 2'7th, 1Y85. The cardinal De Rohan administered to him the sacrament of baptism, imme- diately after his bii-th. At the period of his father's death he was in the eighth year of his age ; and was re- markable for several things : for the fairness of his com- plexion, the beauty of his person, and the vivacity, intelli- gence, and amiability of his disposition. In 1 789 his elder 182 THE DAUPHIN OF FRANCE. brother died, and thus it was that Charles Louis became, in regular succession, the dauphin of France, and heir-ap- parent to the throne of St. Louis. The earhest years of the chUd were passed in the amusements and exercises usual with persons of his rank and age ; and as he became older, the charms of his dis- position rendered him more and more an object of inter- est and attention. On the 28th of January, 1793, imme- diately after the murder of his father, his imcle, the Count de Provence, who was then residing at one of the minor German courts, proclaimed him the successor of Louis XVI. under the title of Louis XVII. He thus became a legitimate sovereign, and a suitable subject for the scrutiny of history. On the first day of July, 1793, it was decreed by the " committee of pubUc safety " that the dauphin should be separated from his mother in the Temple, and con- fined in another apartment. At ten o'clock at night, af- ter the dauphin had retired to rest, his mother was in- formed of the sad intelligence which was to separate her from her son. She was distracted at the thought, and besought the ofiicers by every moving and affecting ap- peal, which a mother's love could suggest, not to distress her with so heavy an affliction. Her efforts to move their pity were aU in vain, and the Uttle dauphin, over- come with astonishment and distress at this strange and sudden change, was torn from her embraces, and taken to that apartment in the tower of the Temple which had been occupied by his unfortunate father. By this transition the young prince was placed under the control of the famous Simon, an artist in shoe-leather. THE COBBLER SIMON. 183 This individual was a creature of Marat, who had pro- posed him for this trust, and had been approved and ap- pointed by Robespierre. He was a rude, ignorant, pas- sionate, and vulgar wretch ; just such an one as we might suppose would be a favorite and congenial associate of Marat, " the fi'iend of the people." It is matter of undisputed truth that the treatment be- stowed by his jailor upon the young dauphin, was most brutal and cruel. Whenever news arrived of some par- tial triumphs gained by the royaUst forces in La Vendee, Simon was sure to punish the prince for their successes by severe blows, and by the most unfeeling persecution. " It is your friends," said he, " you young villain, who are cutting our throats, and ruining the cause of liberty." The dauphin, scarcely knowing the meaning of the cob- bler's allusions, smothered his sobs, while the unbidden tears roUed down his cheeks. The day after he had been separated from his mother, she sent him his books, his writing materials, and his toys. Simon appropriated the former to the intellectual purpose of hghting his pipe, while the latter he would amuse him- self with breaking up, and defacing in the presence of the weeping prince, who in vain implored to have them spared. On the 2d of August, 1793, the national assem- bly added another to the long list of its outrages, by de- creeing that Maria Antoinette should be entirely re- moved from the Temple and confined in the prison of the Conciegerie. From' that hour the heart-broken queen never again beheld her unhappy son ! After this period the cruelty of Simon became more ex- cessive and severe. On one occasion when the child re- 184 SIMON WITHDRAWS FROM THE TEMPLE. fused to sing a revolutionary song, in which his mother was honored with the epithet of Austrian she-wolf. Si- mon threw an andiron at his head, which would inevitably have destroyed him, had he not, by a sudden movement, evaded it. The only regret of Maria Antoinette in leaving a world in which her destiny had been so sad and so singular, was solicitude for the fate of her two children. After her exe- cution theii' situation became sufficiently friefidless. The dauphin's sister was confined in the Temple, though her condition was somewhat more tolerable than that of her brother. The treatment of Simon was intended both to destroy the health of the child, and to demoralize his mind. The wretch succeeded in accomplishing both pur- poses previous to his removal from the Temple. The health of the latter amiable individual began to fail from the constant state of brutal intoxication in which he lived, together with the confinement of his situation ; and he obtained permission to retire. He took leave of his un- happy little victim with these words : " Oh, the young vUlain ! he is not yet quite crushed, but he never will es- cai^e now, even if all the priests in the world should come to his aid."* After Simon's departure, the dauphin was removed to another larger apartment, which was then bolted and fastened up, as if it was intended that the prince should never come forth again alive. His food was put in to him between the iron bars of the door. He had * It is a comfortable reflection, of which we would not, on any account, deprive the reader, that this despicable wretch Simon was afterward guillotined with his friend and patron Robespierre. Avenging justice, though slow, was sure, in this as it is in all other cases to measure out deserved punishment to the guilty. DEATH OF THE PRINCESS ELIZABETH. igS neither light nor fire. No human soul was ever allowed to enter the room. It remained unswept and uncleansed for some months, and amid its damp and heavy shades the lonely and friendless child was left to while away the tecSous hours of his existence, in solitary communion with his own thoughts. The little victim never even beheld the hand that gave him his bread and water. No friendly voice ever cheered him by its sympathy. The cold and massive walls of that ancient dungeon chiUed his tender frame through and through; and if a curious stranger ever was permitted to look through the grated door, he beheld the bent and shivering form of the unconscious and lonely child, somewhere amid the heavy glooms of his prison house, silent, cheerless, and almost unconscious of his sad being. He was thus cut off entirely from all in- tercourse with his relations, and with the external world. He was allowed no amusement, no occupation. On the 10th of May, 1794, his aunt, the princess EUzabeth was guillotined and added another to the royal victims of the revolution ; and the little prince and his captive sister, were left alone in the world. One more murder of help- less innocence and youth was yet wanted, to fill up the measure of the damnable infamy of the " Friends of Freedom." The treatment of the dauphin had now been such for some months, that it must inevitably end in idiotcy or in death. He became more and more reduced. He could at length hardly leave his bed, and crawl to the stone jug which contained his water. He lost all appetite, and his tasteless food was left scattered about the fioor of his prison, which became infested with rats, naice and the most 186 HORRID CONDITION OF THE DAUPHIN. offensive vermin. No cleansing had taken place for months, and the atmosphere became putrid and poisonous. As a necessary consequence, the health of the little sufferer became ruined, his frame became emaciated, his arms and knees were attacked with scrofulous swellings, his back became crooked ; and death, more merciful than the "Friends of Liberty," would soon have ended the woes of his existence. At this period, by some accident, it became noised abroad through Paris that the condition of the son of Louis XVI. was most pitifiil and miserable. The rumor at length reached the convention ; and curiosity induced that body to send Laurent, a member of the revolutionary committee, to examine into the state of the dauphin, and to assume the post of guardian over him. This person appears to have possessed an ordinary share of humanity, and to have been capable of feeling for the misfortunes of others. As soon as he was installed in his new post, he visited the cell of the dauphin and called hiTn by name. He received no answer, and immediately ordered work- men to remove the iron bars of the door. He entered, and a horrid sight indeed presented itself to view. On the filthy bed there appeared to be laying something in the shape of a chUd, half covered with rags ; offensive from the dirt with which it was covered ; unable to move from the position in which it then was ; and looking with mingled terror and astonishment at the visitor who thus disturbed his accustomed solitude. His head and neck were covered with sores ; his wrists and knees were swelled enormously ; the nails of his hands and feet had grown to long claws, and his whole appearance bore the VISIT OF LAURENT. 187 impress of mingled idiotcy and death. His mind seemed to be gone. To the various questions put to him he made no ansiver ; he only gazed with a vacant stare upon the intruders, and seemed striving to discern in the gloom and darkness of his horrid abode, their features and their forms. At length, being asked w^hether he wanted any- thing, he answered in feeble and almost inaudible ac- cents; '■'■ I want to die!'''' No time was to be lost if their unfortunate little suf- ferer was to be rescued from immediate death. His prison was cleaned. The barred windows were opened, so that the light and air might enter. A comfortable bed was prepared for him. His sores were dressed. His per- son was washed and clean linen provided for him. His hair was cut and combed ; and other necessary changes Avere made in his situation. The child could not suppress his surprise at these marks of unaccustomed kindness ; and expressed his gratitude to his benefactor in the most touching and affecting manner. Notwithstanding this favorable change in the condition of the dauphin, his health seems to have gradually de- clined. The fatal work had already been accomplished ; the seeds of death had been planted within him. In March, 1^95, Laurent obtained permission to leave his post in the Temple, and bade farewell to his young friend, who was filled with gloom at his departure. The suc- cessor of Laurent was named Lasne. This man had been a soldier, and had frequently been on guard at the Tuil- eries, where he had seen the dauphin, and had become familiar with his features and person. He immediately recognized the young prince, and contrasted his present 188 LASNE APPOINTED KEEPER. appearance and condition with the brighter and happier period of his existence. Though he treated his ward with the greatest kindness, three weeks elapsed before he could get a single word from him ; so completely had terror and abuse subdued the spirit of the child, and filled him with continual apprehension. At length Lasne recalled to the recollection of the dauphin the little regiment of boys of which he had been the commander, at the Tuile- ries, and the maneuvers which Lasne had himself wit- nessed when on duty at that palace. It was the first pleasing reminiscence of the past which had cheered his youthful spii'it for many months. After that incident the chUd became affectionately free and confidant to his keeper. But his health continued to decline. In May, 1795, the convention was informed that the dauphin was danger- ously ill. Dessault, a distinguished physician of Paris, v.'as appointed to visit him. He expressed the opinion, _that the child was gradually wasting away from the com- bined effect of scrofulous disease, and of confinement and ill-usage. He recommended that the invalid shoiild be sent to the country, and declared that nothing but the air of the country could revive and restore him. But this only remedy which could accomplish so desirable a result, was positively refused. M. Dessault paid but two visits to the prince, and died on the first of June. There were those living at the time, who said that he had poisoned the dauphin, and had then himself been taken off to pre- vent any disclosures. Others asserted that he had de- tected that the invalid in the Temple was not the true dauphin but a substituted child, and that to prevent this M. PELLETAN. 189 disclosure, he was poisoned by the authorities. The an- swer to all these conjectures is that M. Dassault, who had been the physician formerly to the royal children, and knew their persons well, never expressed to any one any doubt as to the identity of the dauphin ; nor did he leave any proof on record or in existence that he enter- tained such doubts. After the death of Dessault, M. Pelletan was appointed by the committee of pubhc safety to continue the medical treatment of the prince. He arrived after an interval of six days, and found his patient in a hopeless condition. AU that he could do was to order his removal to another apartment, which was better aired, and had a more cheer- ful appearance. For a day or two the cMld seemed to re- vive. But the improvement was only temporary. On the 8th of July he agaia became much worse. Lasne, who was the first to see and converse with him, imme- diately discovered the traces of the advancing disease. At length he remarked to him, " How unhappy I am to see you suffering so much." The answer which he re- ceived Avas one of singular interest and mystery. " Oh yes," he answered, " I am suffering ; but the music is so sweet ! " Lasne was surprised, as well he might be, at this remarkable fantasv. He knew that there was no music anywhere in the Temple, or in the neighborhood of it. He therefore asked the prince, " Where do you hear the music ? " " Above," said he. " How long since ? " " Since you have been praying. Don't you hear it ? Listen ! " Lasne had knelt by the side of the bed, and had devoutly repeated several prayers. After a pause of surprise and pleasure, the dying child added with ] 90 DEATH OF THE DAUPHIN. increased ecstacy, " In the midst of all the voices, I hear my mother's." After a further interval the child inquired, " Do you think my sister has heard the music ? — ^how hap- py it would have made her." Lasne, overcome with emotion, could make no reply. The child turned his large eyes toward the opened window, and gazed intently upon the blue sky beyond it. His soul seemed wrought up to a high degree of tension, in Ustening to the un- natural melody which was soothing his dying moments. While he appeared thus engaged his eye began to grow dim, his countenance to lose its vitality, his body gradu- ally sank into the arms of Lasne, and in a few moments, without a struggle, he ceased to breathe. The perse- cuted prince was free ; his spirit had taken its everlasting flight. It was the eighth of July, 1795, a httle more than two years after the execution of Louis XVI. It might be an interesting inquiry to the philosopher and the psychologist, to account for the singular phe- nomenon just narrated, respecting the death of the dau- phin ; whether the hearing of the music in question is a proof that the spirits of the departed are permitted to cheei-, with heavenly melody, the last moments of the dying ; or whether it is to be regarded as a mere delu- sion of the departing and exhausted spirit ; or whether its faculties can and do become so much strengthened, as its union with its clay tenement loosens, that it has power to hear in the spirit-land what is unheard by or- dinary mortals. It is not our purpose to enter into a philosophical or theological mquiry on this subject ; but it is worthy of remark that the historical truth of the mcident in question is undoubted, and rests upon the MYSTERIOUS MUSIO. 191 most satisfactory authority. Such cases are not without parallels in the history of minds; though we know of no satisfactory solution which has yet been given of them. CHAPTER VIII. THE FALL OF KOBESPIEERE AND THE MOTJNTAIN. Until the year 1794 the power of Robespierre contin- ued to increase with amazing rapidity, and to an unpar- alleled magnitude. In the preceding year he had bold- ly accused the most distinguished and able leaders of the Girondists, — Brissot, Vergniaud, Gaudet, and Gensonne, — as being secretly attached to Dumourier, and to the Royalist cause ; and he had followed up that daring blow with attacks of such intense fury and resolution, that he had at length dragged those eminent men to the guillo- tine, along with an immense number of their more ob- scure associates. In the next place, he had directed his power against the anointed and crowned head of Maria Antoinette — and that head, once so brilliant and beautiful, rolled beneath the ax of the executioner. Passing on to other members of the royal family, his insatiable ferocity found new victims in the Duke of Orleans and Madam Elizabeth, the amiable sister of Louis XVI. Then, not satisfied with the destruction of the highest of earthly powers and dignities, and of those who bore them, Robespierre even dared to confront the majesty of heaven, and impiously decreed the abolition of the Christian religion ; he denied the future immortality of the soul ; and elevating a half-naked prostitute of Paris on the high altar of the cathedral of Notre Dame, proclaimed in her person the universal reign of the Goddess of Reason. GROWTH OF ROBESPIERRE'S POWER. 193 And when other demagogues, as desperate and as un- principled, but not as able as himself, advanced to the pos- session of a degree of power which endangered his own supremacy, he boldly struck at their heads, and sacrificed them, after a prodigious conflict, to his insatiable ambition. The powerful Danton, Hebert, and Camille Desmoulins, once his associates in nameless crimes, but afterward his rivals in the exercise of an infamous power, all fell victims to his superior and jealous nature ; and expiated their career of blood and ambition on the scaflbld. Then followed the cruel and bloody war in La Vendee, all the excesses of which seemed to be instigated and pro- tected by the power of Robespierre. And indeed after the death of Danton and Hebert, the authority which Robespierre had obtained was absolute and uncontrolled ; and he exercised that power to the utter desolation of liis native land, and to the destruction of everything which promotes the happiness and well-being of society. Whole cities, such as Lyons and Nantes, were razed to the ground ; and thousands of their inhabitants were massa- cred in cold blood. The committee of pubUc safety com- posed of Robespierre, St. Just, and Couthon were the pos- sessors of absolute authority throughout France, and of that memorable committee, Robespierre was the heart and soul, and is personally responsible for all its atrocious deeds. He held under his control the National Guards, commanded by the brutal Henriot. He ruled the moun- tain in the convention; he was ihe divinity of the Jacobin club ; and through these he governed themunicipaUty and the departments of France. In June, 1794, Robespierre was more absolute in France, and far more terrible, than I 13 194 AWFUL STATE OF FRANCE. Louis XrV. had ever been before him, or than Napoleon ever was after him. A proof of this assertion may be seen in the fact, that at this time, by means of his emissaries and associates, he had thrown seven thousand persons into the various pris- ons of Pai'is ; and the number of those in confinement throughout France was two hundred thousand. Their condition was wretched beyond description; and the amount of misery endured may be inferred from the fact, that the most of these prisoners were persons of respecta- bility, who had been accustomed to the comforts of life, and were now deprived of everything adapted to make hfe endurable. The state of despair to which the com- munity was reduced, the suspicion, the fear, the perva- ding terror, which spread a pall of sadness and gloom throughout the land, it would be impossible to describe. Every man regarded his neighbor as his hidden foe ; and awaited with breathless apprehension the moment when his accusation would come from some unexpected, but inevitable source. The ties of relationship, the power of affection, the suggestions of honor, the impulses of grati- tude, seem all to have wasted away beneath the wither- ing effect of selfishness, suspicion, and hatred. The count- ing house of the merchant and the chateau of the noble- man were continually invaded by the insensate rabble un- der the pretext of searching for aristocrats ; and no age or rank or sex were secure from the fangs of these human harpies. The usual number of executions per day, during the height of Robespierre's supremacy was eighty. The carta which , conveyed the victims to the place of execution REVOLUTIONARY SCENES. 195 were frequently filled with the most accomplished and beautiful women ; and with the most distinguished and cultivated men. The princess of Monaco, in the prime of her blooming loveliness, was conveyed to the scaffold in the same wagon side by side with some of the most dis- tinguished members of the Academy of Sciences ; with Lavoisier, the illustrious chemist ; with Florian, the elo- quent novelist ; with the son of Buffon the naturaUst ; and ■with the daughter ^of Vernet the painter. And these, with thousands more of the victims of the insensate fe- rocity of the revolutionary leaders, were condemned to death, without any form of trial or impartial examina- tion whatever ; and for no possible crime, but that they were not as infamous and blood-stained as then- persecu- tors, but loved order, decency, and humanity. In the city of Arras, Le Bon, by Robespierre's orders, executed two thousand persons. Twenty thousand victims more fell beneath the relentless fury of Carrier at Nantes. In that city hundredf of children of both sexes, imder the age of fourteen years, were shot. The shortness of their stat- ure occasioned the bullets in many instances to pass over their heads. The terrified innocents rushed forward and clung around the knees of their executioners, praying for mercy. But no mercy was shown them. They were murdered at the point of the bayonet. From the 10th of June, 1794, to the 17th of July alone, the revolutionary tribunal at Paris condemned to death and executed twelve hundred and eighty-five persons. It will not be diflBcult to believe the truth of this enormous estimate, when we remember the process by which convictions were brought about. " Do you know of the conspiracy 196 JUDICIAL JEST;5. in the prison ? " " No." " I expected you would say so, but that will not save you. You are condemned." To another the question was put, "Are you not a noble?" " Yes." " Go — you are guilty." To a third, " Are you not a priest ? " " Yes." " Then follow him." Some- times jests and jokes were used to diversify the horrors of the tribunal of death. An aged man who had by paraly- sis lost the use of his tongue, was placed at the bar. Be- ing unable to make any answer when accused, the judge said jestingly, " Very well, we don't want his tongue, but his head ! " With such feeble hopes of justice before them when arraigned, and with such a dread atmosphere of suspicion and terror around them, it may readily be believed that the whole nation began to endure a living death, and tQ look around them for the means and the period of their de- liverance from such unspeakable thraldom. Happily, the day of release was not far distant. Robespierre, as is al- ways the case with tyrants, invited his own ruin by car- rying his atrocities to an extreme which no human power could endure. The enemies of his person and his power were first found among those who had been his associates in revolutionary violence, but whom he now determined to remove from his jaath and to destroy. It was to a woman, to Charlotte Corday, that the im- mortal honor belongs of having delivered France fi-omthe detested presence and diabolical influence of Marat. It was also to a A^oman far more beautiful but less virtuous than she, that the credit is due of having nerved t!u' arm of Tallien to strike the deadly blow, at the ver,- thought of which so many stout hearts trembled, bu; MADAM TALLIEJ7. 197 which was necessary to deliver France from the fatal des- potism of Robespierre. It was wlien on a political mission to Bordeaux, that Tal- lien first beheld the majestic beauty of the woman who afterv/ard exercised so potent an influence over his des- tiny. She was in feeling a royalist. She detected in the eloquence of Tallien a powerful instrument by which she might recall her countrymen back to reason and human- ity. She first obtained complete control over the mind and soul of Tallien, till at length the latter idolized her with an intensity of devotion never surpassed. Then it was that she stirred his spirit with a mighty spell, and in- voking the nobler elements of his nature, led him to the determination to attempt the dehvering of his country from the fell power of a bloody tyrant, or to perish nobly in the attempt. On the 26th of July, (8th Thermidor,) Robespierre de- livered a speech in the national convention, in which he made charges against the committee of general safety, and various members of the convention, as being hostile to Uberty and to the complete triumph of the revolution. He urged the abolition of the committee of general safety, and the concentration of all power into the hends of one person. He urged the convention to punish with death all its unworthy members. Here was a demand for greater power, and for more blood of the representatives of the people. Robespierre had drawn up a list of the represen- tatives v,rhom he proposed to immolate on his bloody al- tar. This list was headed by the name of Tallien, and contained the names .of Thurist, Guffroi, Bourdon de I'Oise, Legendre, Vadier, members of the committee of general 198 CONSPIRACY AGAINST ROBESPIERRE. safety, and many more. By some accident Tallien be- came aware of the purpose of Robespierre, and of his own mienviable promiaenoe on the fatal catalogue. He saw that it was now time to strike the decisive blow ; and he communicated to the others proscribed, the purposes of Robespierre concerning themselves. The period had now arrived for the occurrence of one of the most furi- ous and deadly conflicts ever displayed in a deliberative assembly. The 27th of July at length dawned, a mem- orable day in French history. During the preceding night the conspirators with Tallien at their head, had held a long and secret meeting, in which they had ma- tured their plans, and determined on the course to be pur- sued, to overturn the power of the tyrant. When the Assembly met the next day, an air of decision and desper- ate determination marked the demeanor of the represen- tatives, indicating their purpose to succeed or perish in the impending struggle. At one o'clock, St. Just ascended the tribune, and be- gan to speak upon the proposition contained in the ad- dress of Robespierre on the preceding day. " I belong," "said he, " to no party. I wOl oppose them all. This trib- une may become a Tarpeian rock to me, when I tell you that the members of the convention have wandered from the path of wisdom." Here TaUieu, determined no longer to delay, arose and interrupted St. Just, "Shall you," said he, " arrogate to yourself the right to denounce, ac- cuse, and proscribe the members of this assembly ? You are but the satellite of a tyrant, who yesterday began to raise the vail before our eyes, of the horrors he still pro- poses to perpetrate, I will tear that vail asunder, and SPEECH OF TALLIEN. 199 will exhibit the danger ia its full extent, and the tyrant in his true colors." Robespierre had taken his seat opposite the tribune, determmed to overawe the hostile speakers by the fierce- ness of his countenance. But when the clarion tones of Tallien's eloquence resounded throughout the hall, he be- gan to tremble, and his face became deadly pale. Ho would have risen to interrujjt Tallien, but the energy and resolution of the latter were indomitable. He tlieii proceeded to describe the plans of blood on which Robe;^- pierre had determined. " The massacre," said he, " was to have begun with the committees of public safety and general security, and other members of the convention. Let us take instant measures to prevent the purposes of the assassins, for they are more than one. I will name them. First, there is Dumas, the president of the infa- mous revolutionary tribunal. There is Henriot, the drunken commander of the National Guards. And there is Robespierre, the center of this blood-thirsty conspiracy, and his associates in the committee ol" public safety, St. Just and Couthon. Is there a voice among you, who will not declare that Robespierre Is a tyrant? Tremble! wretch, tremble ! " said he, pointing to the form of Robes- pierre which then shook with agitation and fury before him. ".We enjoy your agony; and I declare, that if the convention refuses to pass the decree of accusation against you, I will plunge this dagger into your heart ; " and lie drew forth the glittering blade, and brandished it before his foe, whUe the hall resounded with the acclamations of the deputies. Robespierre attempted in vain, during the loud tumult 200 ROBESPIERRE ARRESTED. which followed this outburst, to obtain a hearing from the convention. The president of that body was his personal foe ; and whenever the distracted deputy endeavored to speak, he rang his bell so loudly as to drown his shrieking voice. In vain Robesjjierre turned from one side of the hall to the other, imploring to be heard. " Pure and virtu- ous citizens," exclaimed he, "will you not permit me to speak?" Finding that the tumult of the assembly would not be calmed by the use of persuasive tones, and seeing their determined purpose to drown his utterance, he at length screamed at the top of his voice : " President of as- sassins ! for the last time I demand to speak ! " The tu- mult only increased ; and Robespierre at length sank down upon his seat exhausted, panting, and foaming at the mouth. His voice was gone, and he in vain attempted to recover his self-possession and his utterance. After a few moments, the eyes of the exulting assembly being stUl fixed upon the exasperated but enfeebled wretch, a voice exclaimed, "It is the blood of Danton which chokes him ! " And then the overthrown but unconquered despot uttered one of his sudden repartees, which, under the circumstances, is one of the finest and subhmest things recorded in his- tory: "Is it Danton whom you would avenge? Wretches, why then did you not dare to defend him ! " Immediately the act of accusation was proposed and carried. Robespierre, his younger brother, Le Bas, St. Just, Oouthon, Dumas, and Henriot, were put imder ar- rest, and sent to prison; and the assembly adjourned at five o'clock. The moral dignity and grandeur of this celebrated scene were certainly of a high character. In the con- HIS REMOVAL TO TIJE HOTEL DE VILLE. 201 v^ention Robespierre had yet many ardent adherents. The terror of his name was stUl overpowering ; he pos- sessed the prestige of his past immense success ; and be- fore that day, to have seriously opposed any measure which emanated from him, was the certain death-warrant of the bold adventurer. But on this occasion for the first time, the wlU of the blood-stained dictator was directly re- sisted ; and TaUien, with a degree of heroism deserving of immortal honor, dared not only to oppose but to stig- matize, to accuse, to condemn him. And then, the means employed to crush the wUl, and drown the eloquence of Robespierre, were peculiar. It was only a matter of strength of lungs between one feeble, agitated, scream- ing wretch, and five hundred vociferating deputies ; who, when the perilous pathway had once been opened by their heroic leader, all joined with hearty good-will in defeat- ing and baffling the attempts of the faUen tyrant to re- gain the power which he had so suddenly lost. Robes- pierre, it must be confessed, possessed but a small chance of success with five hundred deputies doing their best to cough, scream and roar him under ! No sooner however had the magistrates heard that Robespierre had been arrested, than they sent a force to Conciergerie prison to release him. He was immediately conducted to the Hotel de VUle, where he found his broth- er, and St. Just. They were received by the magistrates with acclamation. The assembly met again at eight o'clock the same eve- ning, and were infoimed of the release of the prisoners. TeiTor and irresolution for a few moments pervaded the stoutest hearts. In this emergency, Tallien again dis- I* 202 TERROR IK PARIS. played his indomitable heroism. Said he, " Everything conspires to secure the liberty of France. Robespierre, by resisting the decree of the assembly which declared him under arrest, has placed himself hors la loi." The as- sembly instantly decreed that Robespierre and his asso- ciates were opposing the government. The sections were convoked, and Barras placed in command of them. The generale beat. The sections were ordered to the defense of the convention. The municipality were summoned to their bar. A message was sent to the cannoniers in the Place de Carousal to attack the Hotel de Ville where Robespierre still remained. The rapid adoption of these measures saved the lives, and decided the fate of Tallien and his party. While their execution progressed, all Paris was in a state of the most fearful and anxious excitement. On every side the bewildered multitude hurried to and fro, uncertain what to do or what to believe. The solemn tones of the loud tocsin resounded through the heavy air of night, carrying terror over the whole capital, and far beyond the barriers, through the adjoining country. The hundreds of pro- scribed persons who had been long concealed in the hid- den recesses of Paris, hearing the r.-.iaor which men whis- pered with pale hps, that Robespierre had been arrested, cautiously crept forth from their sec-st dens, to be assured of the glorious tidings. Even into the prisons the deep sounds of agitation penetrated. The prisoners knew that some great crisis wa.j transpiring beyond their gloomy walls. Their relatives and friends approached their grated windows, and whispered the welcome news that their ROBESPIERRE ATTEMPTS SUICIDE. 203 great butcher was at length shorn of his power, and that they might yet escape his deadly fangs. Robespierre and his party still renaained at the Hotel de Ville, hoping that the arrival of the National Guards woiild soon put an end to the doubtful conflict ; for at their head he had determined to march to the hostile con- vention, disperse them, and then resume the reins of power which had fallen from his grasp. But the National Guards had been won over by the active agents of the convention, and did not advance to the protection and support of Robespierre. Henriot, descending the stairs of the hotel, and finding the square in front deserted, re- turned in despair to his associates. He informed them of the hojDeless posture of their affairs. Here was the turn- ing point of the revolution. At this moment had Robes- pierre possessed resolution sufficient to enable him to arouse the hesitating attachment of the National Guards, the cannoniers, and of the municipaUty, he might yet have succeeded in crushing the power of the convention, led on by Talhen, and still divided in its purpose. But this eloquent and pertinacious orator, Robespierre, was devoid of the energy and moral courage necessary to this great crisis. As soon as Henriot informed him that the National Guard had failed to march to the Hotel de Ville, he gave ]iimself ujd to despair. At this moment, determined not to fall into the hands of his enemies, he discharged his pistol at his head. He escaped immediate death, but inflicted a frightful wound on his lower jaw, Le Bas blew out his own brains. Couthon attempted to stab himself, but had not courage to accomplish the deed. 204 HIS EXECUTION. CofSnhal and the younger Robespierre endeavored to es- cape by the window. The bleeding body of Robespierre was soon dragged by the mob to the assembly. They refused to admit him ; he was then conveyed, together with Couthon, to the hall of the committee of general safety, where they lay for nine hours, their wounds still bleeding, stretched upon a table on which they had signed the death warrants of thousands of their victims. From this spot, on the next morning, they were conveyed to the revolutionary tribu- nal, where, with a rapidity of process which they had themselves so often used, they were immediately con- demned to death. Early m the morning of the 29th of July, aU Paris was in eager motion, to witness the righteous retribution about to be inflicted on the fallen tyrant. He was placed in a wagon between Henriot and Couthon, and com.- menced that dismal journey on which he had sent so many of his fellow creatures, in the prime of life and hope. Along the route the immense multitude gave utterance to theii" joy in loud shouts of exultation. He was con- ducted to the Place de la Revolution, the spot on which his illustrious victims, Louis XVI. and his unfortunate queen, had expired. When the bandage which confined his broken jaw broke, the blood overflowed his dress. Ere he reached the spot, frantic men and women, ap- proaching the wagon, hurled the bitterest curses against him. Said one, " Murderer of all my kindred, descend to heU, burdened with the execrations of every mother in France ! " When the executioner tore oflF the bandage which supported his jaw, it fell to the ground ; and he RESULTS OF THE REIGN OF TERROR. 205 uttered a yell, which filled the gazing multitude with hor- ror. As the ax descended which severed from its body the head which had been the greatest curse which ever afflicted Fraucf', the shouts and exultation of the vast multitude shook the earth, and resounded far and wide over the desolated city. The amount of misery which this great, bad man in- flicted on his unhappy country, during the several years of his fatal supremacy, can scarcely be computed. Some idea however may be formed from the actual number of executions which took place during this period of the revolution. It has been accurately computed by Prud- homme, that there were slain one thousand two hundred and seventy-eight noblemen, seven hundred and fifty no- ble women ; of wives of laborers and artisans one thou- sand four hundred and sixty-seven ; of nuns, three hundred and fifty; of priests, one thousand one himdred and thirty- five ; of common people, thirteen thousand six hundred and twenty-three. Of those guillotined by the revolu- tionary tribunals, there were eighteen thousand six hun- dred. Of men slain in La Vendee, there were nine hun- dred thousand. Of the victims of Can-ier at Nantes, there were thirty-two thousand. Of women killed ia La Yen- dee, there were fifteen thousand ; making a sum total, including a few other items, of one mOlion and twenty- two thousand persons, of all ranks and ages, immolated on the bloody altar of revolutionary fury and violence. Such were the terrr&c consequences of the perverted tal- ents of these revolutionary heroes. And yet it is related, that until a few years since two maiden sisters of Robespierre survived at Paris, living in 206 STATE OF FRANCE. genteel retirement, and that they always expressed as- tonishment at the censure and execrations -which were heaped upon the head of their brother throughout the civilized world ! They only remembered him as an affec- tionate relative, who had provided for their wants with fraternal sohcitude, and they could not comprehend how such a man as they knew their brother to have been, could ever display quaUties so savage and ferocious as those which were universally ascribed to him. It was indeed an impressive commentary on the undying strength of a sister's attachment, that the only lips which ever ut- tered words of esteem or regard for the fallen and mur- derous Jacobin throughout all the world, were those of the two persons to whom we have just referred ! "When the head of Robespierre and his associates fell beneath the avenging ax of the guillotine, they left France in a state of prostration, poverty, and ruin, of which the mind can scarcely form any conception. The monthly expenses of the revolutionary government had been three hundred millions of francs. The receipts of the treasury never exceeded one third of this sum. The only possible mode of supplying this deficiency, was by the issue of assignats, or paper-money ; which were intended to pass at par, but which soon fell to one-twentieth of its nominal value. The losses of those who held this worthless scrip may readily be imagined. The whole nation be- came afflicted with a grinding poverty. The nobles had all been despoiled of their wealth ; and the middle classes were oppressed by the issue and depreciation of the pa- per currency. Excitement, idleness, and debauchery had rendered the lower orders more impoverished than ever. PREVALENT POVERTY. 207 Hence the degree of wi'etchedness which existed ^vill scarce- ly be credited. Even the highest servants of the govern- ment subsisted on the most trifling pittances. JPichegru, at the head of an army of fifty thousand men, received only forty dollars per month. The gifted Soche^ com- mander of the army of La Vendee, composed of one hun- dred thousand men, wrote to the convention asking them to procure him a horse, as he was utterly without means, to obtain one. And if such was the state of destitution which aflSicted men of the highest eminence in rank and power, how much more desperate must have been the condition of the multitudes who occupied inferior stations, both in the public service and in private life. Then in addition to these pecuniary distresses, imagine a whole nation clad in the deepest mourning, for the mur- der of a miUion of its noblest and best citizens ! The country was covered far and near with chateaux sacked and burned ; with villages desolated ; with crops destroy- ed ; with all the implements of husbandry, and all the ma- terials for manufactures, lost and ruined. It must surely be admitted that if ever, in the blood-stained history of this earth, any nation presented a close resemblance to all the horrors of Pandemonium, France, once the land of gay revelry, of refinement, and of distinction in art, let- ters, and every form of elegance and magnificence, pre- sented that resemblance, when she lay agonizing beneath the deadly fangs of the demons of revolution, debauchery and infidehty. After the death of Robespierre and his most infamous accomplices, the convention received an infusion of the friends of order and constitutional government. After 208 ESTABLISHMENT OF THE DIRCCTOKY. a severe struggle a new constitution was prepared ; and on the 4th of October, 1795, the government took the form of two representative bodies called the councils, together with an executive branch consisting of five per- sons denominated the directory. The officers selected were Moulin, Gohier, Sieyes, Barraa, and Roger-Ducos. Wliile these men feebly guided the destinies of France, the meteor-star of Napoleon's glory suddenly arose on the rugged isle of Corsica ; and began from the ensanguined plains of Italy to cast abroad its bright effulgence OA'er the continent of Europe. CHAPTER IX. napoleon's expedition to EGYPT. Feom his earliest youth, the glowing imagination of Napoleon had been haunted by the brilliant idea of es- tablishing a new empire iu the east. There was to him a nameless grandeur and romance in the project, of leaving behind him the effete and worn out climes of Europe, aiid invading with a mighty and irresistible armament, those same countries which had witnessed, two thousand years before, the triumphant march of Alexander's legions ; and of establishing there an empire as magnificent but more durable than his. There was a novelty and glory in the idea of a bold and gifted adventurer from the west, such as himself, of advancing as a conqueror without an invita- tion or a warning through the remote and unique climes of the east ; and his mind glowed \nth a new rapture at the thought of erecting on the ruins of crumbling oriental dynasties, a throne of stupendous majesty and power, which would not only surpass those of all other esf^ern potentates, but also one which would extort the admira^ tion of the monarchs of Europe itself. Of all the countries of the east, Egypt was on many ac- counts the most important and suitable, as an incipient conquest. It was an immense country, possessed of vast resources. It was still a dependency on the feeble crumb- ling scepter of the sultan. It was the highway of Eng- 14 210 NAPOLEON'S BRILLIANT CONCEPTIONS. land, Holland, and other great commercial communities of Europe, to their rich possessions in the east. It was a central country from which, having made a triumphant beginning to Ms vast career of conquest, he could extend his power to Abyssinia, to Ai'abia, to Persia, and other neighboring countries. His majestic and j30werful fleets could ride securely on the Nile ; whose broad bosom would be covered, by his means, with the rich commerce of the world. The waters of the Mediterranean would waft to his dominions the luxuries and polished products of the west. The Red Sea would form a convenient chan- nel through which he could secure the rich and rare com- modities of the farther east — of China and the Indies. The Grand Cairo would form a capital whose magnifi- cence and extent, whose gorgeous palaces and luxuriant gardens would be worthy of so great and powerful an empire ; whUe Alexandi'ia, renovated by him from the crumbling decrepitude of ages, would regain her pristine splendor, and become a fit sea-port for an empire to which the commerce, the arts, refinement, and luxury of the world had, by so sudden, yet so potent a charm, been irresistibly attracted. Such were some of the brilliant phantasies which glowed in the ardent mind of Napoleon. After his suc- cessful career in Italy he returned to Paris, and was re- ceived by the directory in the Luxembourg palace, with great state and splendor. Tie colors taken from the Austrians in Italy were presented by him to the directory, together with a copy of the treaty of Carapo Formio, in which the most humiliating concessions had been made by Austria to France. After his return, however, Nar THE DESCENT ON ENGLAND. 211 poleon's mind was not unoccupied, though he was not engaged in any public trust. His brilliant victories in Italy had already won him an European reputation, and he was balancing in his restless and sagacious mind the course which it behooved him next to pursue. To remain long idle in Paris Avas not in the nature of Bonaparte. Besides, he had now become so powerful, that he was already an object of jealousy to the directory. If he aspired to a place with them in the government, they knew that he would soon become absolute ruler, and they absolute cyphers. If he did not obtain a seat in the directory, they feared, and with justice, that he would be- come the center of all the discontented intriguers and ad- venturers in the capital, and might soon ascend to the pos- session of power over their ruins. In either case, to per- mit Napoleon to remain long unoccupied at Paris was the presage of ruin to the directory. Hence it was that in January, 1798, at the suggestion of Barras he was ap- pouited to the command of the army of England. But after carefully examining the coasts of the British chan- nel on both sides, he came to the sagacious conclusion, that the time for the invasion of England had not yet arrived. Accordingly, he dechned the appointment which had been tendered him. His mind again reverted to his schemes of oriental conquest ; and after a short in- terval he persuaded the directory to appropriate the armament intended for the descent upon England to the expedition to the east. Th'e principal motive which in- duced Barras and the directory to acquiesce in a project which to their short-sighted vision appeared chimerical in the extreme, was the same prudent wish to get rid of- tho 212 NAPOLEON'S PREPARATIONS. insatiable ambition and the dangerous popularity of the conqueror of Italy. They indulged the secret hope that both of these would find an early and a nameless grave beneath the treacherous and shifting sands of Lybia. The preparations made by Napoleon for this memora- ble exi^edition, were on a large and magnificent scale. Ho obtained from the directorj^ the appropriation of forty thousand of the best troops of the army of Italy. The fleet of Admiral Bruyes, composed of thirteen ships of the line and fourteen frigates, was placed under his or- ders. Three millions of francs which had been seized by the directory at Berne — the ancient and long accumulated treasure of that republic, the product of Swiss industry and economy for two hundred years — was granted for the purpose of defraying the expenses of the expedition. To the possession of this cherished store of the Bernese republicans, the directory had no other claim, whatever, than the claim of the stronger over the weaker, of the triumphant over the defenseless. It was on the 19th of May, 1798, that the French fleet set sail from the port of Toulon. This magnificent arma- ment 'had been considerably augmented by the indefati- gable exertions of Napoleon. It now consisted of thir- teen ships of the line, sixteen frigates, seventy-two brigs, and four hundred transports. It carried thirty-six thou- sand soldiers of every description, and ten thousand sail- ors. Napoleon sailed first to Ajaccio, and Civita Cas- tellana, and there united with his fleet the squadrons then cruising in those ports. With his force thus increased, he set saU for Malta; and on the 10th of June he hove in sight' of the imposing and magnificent works of that THE KNIGHTS OF MALTA. 213 celebrated fortress which extended for several miles along the horizon, presenting a front of vast extent and mag- nitude. It was Napoleon's purpose to storm the fortifications ; Ijut the necessity for hostile measures was obviated by the successful intrigues which he had for some time past been carrying on with the grand master and the leading knights of the order of St. John. Baron Hompesch, the grand master, after considerable secret negotiation with Napoleon, had stipulated that he would surrender the fortress, on condition that he should receive six hundred ? . . . thousand francs, a principahty in Germany, or a pension for life of three hundred thousand francs; and that the French cavaliers should receive a pension of seven hun- dred francs a year each, for life. On these ignoble terms this ancient fortress, so ren owned in the history of clnis- tian warfare and chivalry, was surrendered ; with the pos- session of all its vast bulwarks, splendid churches, magnif- icent palaces, and the treasures of plate and munitions of war, which the noble knights of previous ages had secured and erected as the fruit of many memorable achievements of heroism and fortitude. Napoleon gazed with rai)ture on the innumerable forti- fications which he had so easily won. The luxury and splendor of the palaces which the successive grand mas- ters had erected, filled him and his oflScers with admira- tion and astonishment. So deep was the harbor, that the L'Orient, a vessel so immensely large that it had ground- ed on leaving the port of Toulon, sailed up without ob- Ktruction to the very quay ; and its extent was so great, that six himdred ships of the line could securely and con- 214 CAPTURE OF ALEXANDRIA. veniently ride within it. Napoleon strongly manned all the batteries with detachments of his own troops ; and on the 19th of June set sail for the coast of Egypt. On the 1st of July the French fleet came in sight of the low coast of that country. Napoleon narrowly es- caped the English fleet under Lord Nelson, which had been scouring the seas for some weeks, in eager search of him. The English fleet had only deserted the roads two days before the arrival of the French armament ; and it is certain, that if the hero of Trafalgar had then fallen in with the object of his pursuit, a furious battle would have ensued, which would materially have altered the fortunes of the world. The English commander would undoubted- ly have achieved a signal victory, because his force was superior to that of the French, and the latter were en- cumbered with the vast number of land troops which the fleet was conveying to Egypt. The sea would have been strewed with wrecks of the French fleet ; thousands would have found a watery grave ; and this bold and wonderful expedition would have had a premature and an inglorious termination. But a more brilliant fate was reserved for the adven- turous Corsican. Exulting in the narrow escape which he had just made, he ordered his troops instantly to dis- embark. Early the next day he advanced at the head of five thousand men and attacked the ramparts of the city of Alexandria, which were defended by an insuflicient number of Mamelukes. After a short conflict the latter were driven from their posts ; the gates were opened, and the French troops entered on their first conquest in Egypt. They found the city, which the mighty Alexander had THE STATE OF THAT CITY. 215 founded, a confused mass of magnificence and ruin. Yet as a presage of future triumph, its subjugation was an event of great importance. The invaders were quartered in the city, which they found ah'eady impoverished and reduced by misfortunes and grinding exactions, to a most lamentable degree. The harbor which was situated in one of the mouths of the Nile, was nearly choked up with sand. No ships could now approach the spot where once all the navies of the world could easily and securely ride at anchor. The city was ruled by the Mamelukes, a body of Turkish soldiers, who had been sent by the sultan to exercise civil and military authority over the abject and feeble Egyptians. The Mamelukes themselves were un- der the authority of their Beys, officers conferred directly by the sultan. Having garrisoned the works of Alexandria with as many of his own troops as were necessary for its defense, Naj3oleon determined immediately to advance into the interior of the country. The grand Cairo, the ancient capital of Egypt, was the next object of the invader's am- bition ; and he resolved instantly to commence the perilous march across the desert to reach it. From Alexandria to Cairo the pathway lay across the treacherous sands of a sterile waste, some three hundred miles in extent. This boundless plain of sand was cheered and relieved neither by shade nor water ; for no tree or bush could draw subsistence from the barren soil, and the few wells which existed had been filled up by the Bedow- ins, the untamed children of the desert. A tropical sun poured down its burning rays on the troops, and scorched and seared every Uving thing. The fine, light sands came 216 THE MARCH IN THE DESERT. floating along in clouds over the plain, and filled the eyea and mouths of the parched and thirsty travelers. The hostile Arabs hovered around the advancing columns, and harassed them with unceasing attacks. Every now and then, the exhausted troops wei'e cheered by a delicious vision in the far distance, of a calm and refreshing lake, reposing on the bosom of the wilderness. They shouted for joy, and rapidly advanced to plunge into its coohng and invigorating waters. They approached the spot, and found that they had been deceived by the mirage of the desert ; and disappointment and deep despair began to overwhelm the spirits of the most daring and intrepid. It would require at least a week for the French army to pass through the desert ; and already on the third day, the most horrible disasters had befallen them. Their sufferings from thirst had already become unendurable. Hundreds of men, horses, and camels had perished by the way, from want of water. Even the intrepid Lannes and Murat threw themselves on the ground, and rolled upon it in paroxysms of despair. The drifting sands destroyed the eyesight of hundreds of the soldiers. Their eyeballs rotted and fell out. Desaix, who commanded the van- guard, sent a courier to Napoleon in the rear, declaring that if the army did not hasten forward with the utmost rapidity, it would perish. " The whole desert," said he, " does not contain water enough for a thousand men, and we are thirty thousand. For heaven's sake do not leave us in this situation, but give the order either to retire rapidly" or to advance. I am in despair, at being com- pelled to write to you in the language of despondency ; THE NILE. 217 but when we have escaped our present horrible position, I hope my usual firmness will return." At length, after a march of a week marked by the most horrible sufferings, and by considerable losses, the parched and wearied army arrived in sight of the -vvished-for Nile, and beheld its bright, sUver stream rolling sluggishly along before them, glittering on the bosom of the desert. The ranks were immediately broken, and the tumultuous crowd rushed with rapture to the banks of the river, to quench their burning thirst. Many even threw them- selves into the cool and flowing flood, and all forgot, in the gratification of the present moment, the mortal ago- nies of the past. After resting for several days on the welcome banks of the river, the French army resumed its march along the stream toward Cairo. For seven days the journey continued. The troops passed through a deserted coun- try, from which all the inhabitants had fled in terror. At length, on the 21st of July, Napoleon, riding at the head of his colimins, first beheld with rapture the distant sum- mits of the mighty pyramids, and not far off, the gUtter- ing minarets of the capital of Egypt. To resist the approach of the invaders, Mourad Bey, at that time governor of Egypt under the Porte, had col- lected together all his best troops, consisting of eight thou- sand Mameluke cavalry — the most splendid and effective in the world — together with ten thousand Arabs, Copts, and Fellaks. - His camp on the bank of the NUe was de- fended by forty pieces of artillery. It was also protected by rude field-works ; and the force thus opposed to the French army was altogether the most formidable which 218 THE PYRAMIDS. had been mustered in Egypt for many years. His army was already drawn out on the plain in battle array, to oppose the further advance of the French. Napoleon immediately made his dispositions for the battle. He formed his columns into hollow squares, and advanced to the attack. It was an anxious moment. In a far distant cUme, a few adventurers were now about, for the first time, to meet a formidable foe. Defeat would be synonymous with destruction. Napoleon in a few words eloquently harangued his troops. Pointing to- ward the pyramids, whose vast summits loomed far up solemnly and sublimely into the clear, azure heavens be- fore them, he said, " Remember, that from the top of those pyramids forty centuries contemplate your conduct in this battle ! " Mourad Bey, perceiving that the French had formed in order of battle, and were slowly advancing, detached his eight thousand Mameluke cavalry from the rest, and ap- proached the hostile squares at the height of their speed. These troops presented an imposing and magnificent ap- pearance. They were sj)lendidly accoutred, and the har- ness of their powerful horses glittered with silver mount- ings. The beys were all around with cimeters and pis- tols ; and as their long line rapidly advanced over the plain, the earth shook beneath their heavy tread; and the shock which ensued, when they clashed with the ad- vancing columns of the French, was prodigious. At the first collision several of the squares of the latter were broken. But they were soon reformed again, and the rolling fire of their musketry did tremendous execution among the serried ranks of the Egyptian cavalry. The BATTLE OF THE PYRAMIDS. 219 latter, in their desperation, exerted, themselves to break the solid squares of the French ; but in vain. Slowlythey rode around them, and whenever they could perceive the slightest chasm, they attempted to dash in and penetrate. These few, more successful than the rest, soon were dis- patched, and the squares again closed over and around their prostrate bodies. Again and again they dashed their horses against those ramparts of steel, but could not break them ; and they gradually wasted away beneath the flamiL ^^ ^alls of unremitting fire, upon whose deadly and immovable front they could make no impression. After an hour's hard fighting, the Mamelukes began to discover the hopelessness of their endeavors to produce any effect Avhatever upon the squares of the French, and panic began to spread through their ranks. Several thou- sand were already slain, and at length the rest took to flight. They retreated toward the pyramids. The French, adroitly extending their squares like a fan, pursued them. They attacked the entrenched camp, and soon the works, together with all the ammunition and baggage of the Mamelukes, fell into the hands of the French. Seeing the total rout of his army, Mourad Bey fled with the remains of his once formidable cavalry across the desert into Up- per Egypt, and the proud conqueror of the "Battle of the Pyramids," entered Cairo, and quartered his troops m its sumptuous palaces without the least resistance. Plunged into the great vortex of oriental luxury in the capital of Egypt, the French army for a short time seemed to have realized their most romantic dreams ; wnUe Bona- parte, in swaying the scepter of the ancient Ptolemies, for a moment may have imagined that his ambitious projects 220 NAPOLEON REIGNS IN CAIRO. in the east were about to be accomplished. He endeav- ored to obtain the confidence of the inhabitants of Cairo, by joining with them in their religious ceremonies. He permitted the imans still to administer justice as before. He disturbed none of the municipal arrangements of the city. He only held with a firm hand the reins of politi- cal authority. The consequence was that the Egyptians, for the first time in their lives, enjoyed the advantages of a regular and impartial government ; and soon the evi- dent benefits which resulted from the presence and su- premacy of the invaders, made the vanquished hug and cherish the chains which bound them. But after a short time spent in the full enjoyment of the novel luxuries and pleasures of the Egyptian capital, the French troops began to Aveary of them. The monoto- ny of eastern life soon commenced to pall upon their senses, and they felt an irresistible inclination to return to their home in the west. Even the project of further conquest in the east had lost all its charms for them. They had secured and enjoyed the richest conquest which that whole hemisphere contained ; and of it they had al- ready become satiated and disgusted. At length the disatfection become so great, that Napoleon threatened to shoot any one, oiScer or private, who would dare to Bpeak to him in reference to the project of abandoning the expedition. On the first of August, 1798, was fought the celebrated battle of the Nile, between the fleets of France and Eng- land — a battle so disastrous to the power and supremacy of France in the east. The number of vessels in each fleet was about equal. Nelson commanded on board his BATTLE OF THE NILE. 221 vessels ten thousand men and ten hundred and twelve guns. The French admiral, Bruyes, had eleven thousand men and eleven hundred and ninety-six guns. The Brit- ish ships were all seventy-fours, while several of those of the French were much heavier, some carrying eighty gvms, some one hundred and one — the celebrated flag-ship, the L'Orient, one hundred and twenty guns. The French fleet lay at anchor in the bay of Aboukir, admirably dis- posed in line of battle, in front of the harbor of Alexan- di'ia, which they had been unable to enter in consequence of the shoals of sand which obstructed its mouth. Nel- son, having reconnoitred the position of his foe, deter- mined to force his way through his line, and thus double his whole fleet around a part of the line of the French ships. The advantage gained by this novel and sagacious device was evinced by the issue of the battle. This memorable conflict began at three o'clock in the afternoon. The shores of the bay were covered with thousands of Arabs and Egyptians, who beheld with awe and wonder the horrible havoc, and the prodigious skill and fortitude displayed by the two foremost nations of the world, in a great conflict which all felt would be deci- sive and memorable in the history of their own country, and in that of the powerful and bold invaders who had so suddenly appeared in their midst. The combatants them- selves were fuUy conscious of the vast importance of the occasion. Nelson had been scouring the seas in pursuit of the French fleet ever since the surrender of Malta. For days he had neither eaten nor slept. At length, when he saw the object of his search advantageously anchored in line of battle, his exultation was extreme, and he in- Q22 SUBLIMITY OF THE SCENE. stantl}' gave the signal for action. The French on their side were equally ready and eager for the conflict. They had waited long, in a state of inactivity, for the decisive moment to arrive ; and the vast size of their vessels, and their advantageous position, led them to indulge in the hojje of certain victory. Their admiral, Bruyes, was the most experienced and distinguished seaman of whom their country could boast, and every circumstance con- spired to give them confidence. As the English ships, the Leander, the CuUoden, the Alexander, and the Swiftsure, passed within the line of the French vessels, they suffered severely from the tre- mendous raking fire of the French ; but no sooner had they taken up their positions — one vessel on the outer bow, and another on the outer quarter of the French ships — than the tide of conquest began to turn. The con- flict was tremendous. The combatants fought with des- perate courage ; and seemed determined to end the con- flict only with victory or death. The scene was fearfully sublime. When the darkness of evening settled down over the contending fleets, the horizon was illuminated for many miles by the incessant discharge of two thousand pieces of artUlery, and the earth and ocean shook with the prodigious concussion. The vast sea of blazing fire appeared like some fierce volcano, whose mouth belched forth an ocean of flame in the midst of the watery waste. At length, by nine o'clock, the English had obtained a complete and unparalleled victory. About that time the L'Orient, a vast ship of one hundred and twenty guns, which carried the French admiral, was found to be on fire, and soon the flames extended beyond the possibility of EXPLOSION- OF THE L'ORIENT. 223 tlieir being subdued. As the fire approached the magazine, many of the sailors and ofBlcers fled from the ship ; but her commander determined to die the death oftlie heroic and imconquerable ; and remained on board. At lengtli, at ten o'clock the explosion took place. The concussion was terrific — without a parallel in ancient or modern war- fare. The earth and sea shook for miles around, and soon after, the burning fragments of the unfortunate vessel fell from the prodigious height to which they had been car- ried, far and wide over the fleets. The sea was now cov- ered with the floating, burning, and shattered wrecks of the French ships ; and when daylight dawned upon the horrid scene, a spectable was presented which has no par- allel in naval liistory. Not a single ship except two re- mained in the possession of the French, of all that vast and imposing armament, which on the day before had defied the world, and rode triumphantly upon the wave. The Guillaume Tell and the Generaux alone escaped, to carry back to France the dreadful story of this unequaled and memorable disaster. All the other ships of the French fleet fell iuto the possession of the English ; ex- cept the L'Orient and La Serieuse, which had sunk. Eight thousand of the French troops had been wounded or slain. Admiral Bruyes perished with his vessel. For twelve miles the shore was covered with fragments of the wrecks, and the surface of the sea was filled with the floating bod- ies of the dead. The commanders of all the French ves- sels had been either killed or wounded. The Enghsh had lost but nine hundred men in killed and wounded, in that dreadftil conflict. This battle was the death-blow to French conquest in 224; RIOT IN CARIO. the east. Napoleon heard the disastrous news at Cairo, and for a moment, even his daring and desperate courage was appalled and overpowered by the magnitude of the disaster. Despair .completely prostrated the minds of the French soldiers, and with the impulsive ardor of their nation, many blew out their brains, and others threw themselves into the Nile. The troops now saw that their only means of transport to their native land had been taken away from them ; and they felt as if doomed to die in a strange land, eternal exiles from the homes which they now loved the more intensely, as the prospect of re- turning to them became the more remote and uncertain. Disasters accumulated around the unfortunate invaders. Immediately on receiving intelligence of the battle of the Nile, the sultan formally declared war against France. At the same time, an insurrection against the French oc- curred in the streets of Cairo. The Turks took refuge in the mosques against the forces ordered out by Napoleon to suppress the riot ; and some of these sacred edifices were assaulted and battered to the ground. After five thousand of the inhabitants had been slain, order and peace was agaia restored. It was not difficult for a man of Napoleon's sagacity to discover, that the only means of counteracting the effect of all these disasters, of saving himself from disgrace, and his army from ruin, was to commence active operations on the offensive, and by some new and bold conquest again to overawe the vaciUatkig inhabitants of the east. Accordingly, he ordered Desaix to march with a strong detachment of troops into Upper Egypt, and there pursue and attack the broken remains of Mourad Bey's troops. INVASION OF SYRIA. 225 On the Yth of October Desaix with tTventy-five hundred men attacked the Turks at Sidiman, numbering four thou- sand Mamelukes and six thousand Fellahs, and again the hollow squares into which the French were formed, defied the fiercest assaults of the heavy cavalry, and at the same time mowed down, with their continuous rolling fire, the serried ranks of their assailants. The Egyptians and Turks were again defeated with great slaughter ; and the battle was decisive of the future fate of Upper Egypt. The French advanced through the rich country, untU at last they rested in triumph beneath the shade of the stupendous ruins of Luxor, and of the mighty sphinxes and sepulchral monuments of Thebes. In pursuance of his plan of continued conquest Napo- leon meanwhile determined to anticipate the attacks which he expected from the sultan's power, by an hostile inva- sion into Syria ; where the sultan was then assembling a formidable force. On the 11th of February, 1799, he commenced his march, over the desert which marks the confines of the two continents, Africa and Asia. In six days he reached El Arish, where he defeated the Mame- lukes, assaulted their camp, and stormed the fortress. Having continued his march toward Palestine, he at length entered that celebrated country on the 4th of March. The first town and fortress that lay in his way was Jaffa, the Joppa of sacred antiquity. The garrison resisted valiantly ; but after a fierce and continued con- flict of several days, the works were carried, and the town was given over to all the horrors of war. Four thousand trooj^s of the garrison became prisoners ; and in the hor- rible fate which soon awaited them, is found the blackest J* 15 ■Sl'Q FOUR THOUSAND PRISONERS SHOT. stigma of infamy, perfidy, and atrocious inhumanity which disgraces the whole career of Napoleon — a career not otherwise devoid of scenes of sanguinary ferocity. These prisoners were disarmed ; but it was a question of much more difficulty to detennine what was afterward to be done with four thousand prisoners, under the pecu- liar circumstances in which the triumphant invaders were then placed. During two days this difficult question was debated in a council of war. It was urged if these prisoners were released, though unarmed, they would at once unite with the hostile ranks of the Turks at Acre, or with the Arabs of the desert who continually harassed the rear and flanks of the army. If they were retained and guarded in cap- tivity by the French troops, it would'be impossible to find subsistence for them. The difficulty of procuring rations for the French soldiers was already very great. At the same time, the difficulty of guarding so large a body of prisoners was immense ; and would require the services of half the army. Napoleon resolved at last that they should be shot, as the only expedient wliich it was safe to adopt under the circumstances ! In jiarsuance of this bloody and inhuman purpose, these fo.ir thousand defense- less human beings were marchod handcuffed down to the sandy shore of the searcoast, were formed into small squares and there were deliberately shot down in cold blood by continued discharges of musketry ! Several hours were occupied in the execution of this terrible and diabolical decree ; and the horrors of the scene are said to have sur- passed all that has ever occurred, amid the heat and fury of conflicts on the battle field. SIEGE OF ACRE. 22Y After defiling his name and character with the eternal stigma of this massacre, Napoleon again resumed his march. After various conflicts with the Turkish forces, he was rapidly approaching the celebrated fortress of Acre. On the 16th of March the French army arrived under its walLs. The pacha of Syria had taken refuge within them, with all his artillery, his treasures, and his armes ; and had determined to defend them to the very last extremity. During the progress of this memorable siege the utmost heroism and desperate valor were dis- played on both sides. The Turks were incited to their greatest exertions by the horror produced by the massa- cre which had just taken place at Jaffa ; and they justly feared a similar fate, if they fell into the hands of the vic- torious and implacable French. The latter on their side saw before them the vast fortifications of a city, the pos- session of which was of the most vital importance to them. Should they faU before Acre their march of con- quest was forever ended in the east. They could not ad- vance a step farther, and leave so important a place be- hind them, in the hands of a powerful and desperate foe. As !^^apoleon remarked with his usual sagacity, pointing to the great tower of the fortress, " The fate of the east lies in yonder fort ; the fall of Acre alone will lead to the possession of Damascus, and to the submission of Aleppo ! " Both sides were fully conscious of the vast importance of the fortress, to their respective interests; and this consciousness gave a degree of desperation to the con- flicts which took place around and within its walls, which is not exceeded in the annals of warfare. We will not at- tempt to describe the prodigious exertions of the besieg- :j28 defeat of jSTAPOLEOK ers, led on by the vast genius of Napoleon himself; nor will we endeavor to depict the heroism and desperate resolution displayed by the besieged during the many as- saults made upon the works. The siege continued until the 20th of May, During its progress the French had several times forced an en- trance within the waUs, and had been as often repulsed with great losses by the Turks. The utmost efforts of valor and skill could not triumph over the immense strength of the fortress when defended by such heroism as then ac- tuated the enraged, desperate and implacable Ottomans. At length, the white sails of the English fleet, under Sir Philip Sydney, appeared in the distant horizon, bring- ing succor to the besieged fortress ; and Napoleon per- ceiving the hopelessness of further exertions, gave the order to commence the retreat. The fire of the Turks was kept up from the walls, until the retiring army passed forever out of the sight and beyond the vision of the sorely besieged, but invincible garrison. Napoleon had lost three thousand of his best troops beneath the walls of Acre. In his retreat he left all his artillery behind. His dream of oriental glory had passed away, and he awoke, at length, to a reality of horrors. "We wiU not follow the baffled invader of the east through all the incidents of his remaining stay in Egypt. From Acre he retreated through the desert to Cairo. From Cairo, he advanced to Aboukir Bay, to attack the large force of Turks which the sultan had sent to Egyptj to assist in crushing the power of the French. On the 25th of July the great battle of Aboukir Bay was fought ; and after a long and desperate struggle, victory once HIS RETURN TO FRANCE. 229 more was won back to the standard of Napoleon. Seven thousand slain Tui-ks attested the fury of the conflict, and the magnitude of the triumph on that memorable lield. Immediately after the occurrence of this battle, Napo- leon received information of the disasters which had be- fallen the directory in Italy and Switzerland; and he immediately formed the resolution of secretly leaving his army behind him, and of returning to Europe. Accord- ingly, on the 22d of August he set sail from Alexandria, having entrusted the command of the troops in Egypt to Kleber. He was accompanied only by Murat, Lannes, Bei'thier, Marmont, Bourrienne, and several more of his personal staflT. After a voyage of several months, during which the frigate which bore the then obscure party nar- rowly escaped capture by the English cruisers in the Mediterranean, he reached Ajaccio. He sailed thence, after a sojourn of eight days in his native place, for the coast of France. He arrived attended only by his suite, in the Bay of Frejus, on the 8th of October ; and im- mediately commenced a rapid journey to Paris. Thus terminated, without any decisive results, the most romantic and remarkable expedition of modern times. It resembled, in the brilliant prospects which attended its commencement, and in the disasters and disappointment which beclouded its termination, the more stupendous venture of the great Corsican against the empire of Rus- sia, which afterward occurred during his career. CHAPTER X. THE EMPRESS MAEIA LOUISA, XSD THE COUET OF ST. CLOUD. The splendor of Napoleon's military reputation after his return from Egypt, rendered him the most considera- ble personage in France ; and while the directory was rapidly crumbling on its throne, Napoleon was as rapidly rising upon its ruins. On the 9th of November, 1799, Napoleon dispersed the council of five hundred, while assembled in their haU, at the poiat of the bayonet. The directorial government was abolished, and the consulate was established, consisting of Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ro- ger-Ducos. The two latter were subsequently succeeded by Cambaceres and Le Brun ; but the strong arm and irresistible wiU of Napoleon already governed the desti- nies of France. Then came the consulate for life. At length, m 1804, Napoleon ascended the imperial throne. Meanwhile, his splendid triumphs on the field of battle, his profound wisdom in the council chamber, his energy and capacity as a ruler, had filled the world with his glo- ry. Mankind seemed after the lapse of many ages, to be- hold the revival of the immortal epoch of the conquerors of old ; and looked with mingled admiration and terror at the rising star and amazing conquests of the modern Alexander. But one additional title to glory Napoleon stUl wanted, and that title he determined to possess. The humble NAl'OLEON ENTERS VIENNA. 231 Corsican desired to luiite his low-bom race to one of the ancient reigning dynasties of Europe. This union would identify himself and his cause with the powerful legitimacy and conservatism of the past. The princess destined to realize for him this wish, was the grand-duchess Maria Louisa of Austria, the youthful heir of the most ancient, the most powerful, and the most illustrious race of kings, who had inherited the title of the Caesars. Let us narrate briefly some of the events which pre- ceded the union of this princess with Napoleon ; the state of the respective kingdoms which they represented ; and the strange events which blended their families and des- tinies into one. During the year 1809 occurred that celebrated cam- paign, which may be said to have laid the Germanic em- pire in the dust. On the 9th of April, Prince Charles, commanding the forces of Austria, took the field, and the Emperor Francis Joseph declared war against France. Napoleon immediately put himself at the head of his armies, then concentrated at Donauwerth. On the 23d of April he made himself master of Ratisbon. Imme- diately followed the decisive battle of Eckmtihl, and in one month from that period. Napoleon entered Vienna in triumph. That capital had been defended by the Arch- Duke Maximilian, and during the siege which preceded its fall, the well known incident occurred which for the £rst time connected the name of the future empress of France with that of the conqueror. The city was fiercely bombarded, and Napoleon was informed that the safety of the arch-duchess was endangered by his artillery, which was then throwing its iron hail-storm on the impe- 232 NAPOLEON'S SERIES OF VICTORIES. rial palace to which she was confined by a serious indis- position. Napoleon instantly ordered the direction of his jjieces to be changed. Vienna at length capitulated, and the victor took up his residence at the palace of Schonbrunn. During this short campaign of a few weeks, Napoleon had performed some of his most memorable achievements. The Austrian emperor had entered the field with an ar- my of nearly five hundred thousand men. Napoleon's forces under Massena and Davoust, were far inferior in number to their opponents. The battle of Landschut was the first of that remarkable series of victories which now crowned Napoleon's arms. In that battle the Austrians lost nine thousand men. At the victoiy of Eckmtihl the Austrians lost twenty thousand prisoners. Next follow the memorable conflicts of Asperne and Essling, and so im- mense were the struggles, and the losses on each side during these conflicts, that each of the combatants claimed the vic- tory. Immediately afterward was fought the decisive bat- tle of Wagram. The struggle was indeed long and bloody. The Arch-Duke Charles, generalissimo of the Austrian forces, had extended his line over too wide a space ; and Napoleon took advantage of this error to concentrate his strength upon the most exposed point of his enemy. The defeat of the Austrians was complete. Twenty thousand prisoners, beside all the artillery and baggage of the arch- duke, fell into the hands of the conqueror. An armistice was the result of this decisive victory. Napoleon re- turned again to Schonbrunn where the terms of the treaty were matured and completed. It was by this treaty of Schonbrunn, that Napoleon MARIA LOUISA'S OPINION OF NAPOLEON. 233 most effectually humbled and weakened the Austrian power. By it Francis 11. was compelled to descend from the high and ancient dignity of emperor of Germany, to that of emperor of Austria. He had been compelled by the treaty to make other heavy sacrifices. The immense territories known under the name of the lUgrean provin- ces were ceded to France. Napoleon thus added to his title of emperor of France, that of king of Italy. In Oc- tober he left Vienna and passing through Wtirtemberg, arrived in haste at Paris. The thunder, the carnage, and the horrors of Wagram, had effectually prepared the way by which the Austrian princess was conducted to the nuptial couch of the conqueror, who had so nearly laid the dominion of her revered father forever prostrate in the dust. She may be easily justified for the ideas which she is at this period represented as entertaining of Napo- leon ; that he was a monster in human shape ; that he was half-man, half-devil ; that he was the evil genius of her family ; that he was the scourge and curse of Europe ; and that he was the embodiment of everything hateful and detestable. She changed her sentiments on this point, in a remarkable degree, upon a more tender and intimate acquaintance with their subject. She became convinced that he was a man without any infernal compound; and one mdeed whom an affectionate and sentimental avo- man might most devotedly love. It was during Napo- leon's temporaiy sojourn at the palace of Schonbrunn, that he first conceived and expressed the singular pur- pose of demanding the youthful arch-duchess as his spouse. Immediately after his return from Vienna, Napoleon 234 NAPOLEON'S DIVORCE FROM JOSEPHINE. began seriously to contemplate tlie project of Ms divorce. Impelled by the irresistible power of his ambition, he de- termined that it should take place ; though by so doiag he did violence to his affections, and to aU the nobler sen- timents of his soul. A stupendous struggle took place •within him, beneath the mighty violence of which, even his master mind for a time staggered. But at length the splendor of his contemplated alliance, whereby his upstart fortunes would be allied to the most ancient and august dynasty in Europe, was too strong an allurement to be resisted. He determined that, cost what it would, of burning tears, of sad regrets, of breaking hearts, and of ruined and blasted hopes — Josephine, the beloved wife of his youth — his best, his most devoted fiiend, should de- scend from the high place to which he had elevated her, and that another should occupy it in her stead. It was on the 15th of December, 1809, that this divorce took place. Several affecting scenes previously occurred between Napoleon and his wife, respecting their separa- tion. Josephine, from the first, bore this reverse of for- tune with magnanimity. When Napoleon resolved to mention to her the necessity for a divorce that he might obtain an heir to his empire, he approached her ; he gazed affectionately ujDon her for a few moments ; and then with emotion pronounced these remarkable words : " Jose- phine, my excellent Josephine, thou knowest if I have loved thee ! To thee, and to thee alone, do I owe the only moments of happiness I have enjoyed in this world. But my destiny overmasters my will. My dearest affec- tions must be silent before the interests of France." — " Say no more," she replied, " I was prepared for this ; JOSEPHINE'S APPEARANCE. 235 but the blow is not the less terrible ! " She at length fainted, and was carried to her chamber. When the time arrived for publicly proclaiming the divorce, the grand saloon of the Tuileries was crowded. The whole Bonaparte family were present. All the courtiers were in full costume. Napoleon wore a splendid suit of ceremo- ny, with magnificent drooping plumes. He stood motion- less as a statue, with his arms crossed upon his breast. At length the door opened by which Josephine was to enter. She appeared ; her countenance was pale, but calm and self-possessed. She leaned upon the arm of her daughter Hortense, whose tears fell fast, and who could scarcely control her feelings. Josephine approached the center of the apartment, where an arm chair had been placed for her, before which was a small table, with writ- ing apparatus of gold. She wore a dress of white muslin, without a single ornament. She moved with her usual grace to the seat prepared for her, and there listened to the reading of the act of separation. Her children, Eu- gene and Hortense, stood behind her chair, and in vain attempted to suppress their sobs and tears. Josephine heard with calmness the words which there placed an eternal barrier between herself and the tenderly cherished object of her pride and her affections. The reading over, she arose ; pressed for a moment her handkerchief to her swimming eyes ; pronounced with a clear voice the oath of acceptance ; and taking the pen from the hand of Count St. Jean d'Angely, signed her name in full and bold characters to the instrument before her. Then, leaning on the arms of Eugene and Hortense, she retired from the saloon as she had entered it. 236 MIDNIGHT SCENE IN THE PALACE. But the interest of this sad day had not yet terminated Josephine remained shut up in her own apartment until her usual hour of retiring to rest. Napoleon then re- paired to a separate chamber from the one which he had long shared with his now dethroned empress. He came not that night to his usual resting-place. He sought not then the communion of that tender and faithful breast in which for many long and troubled years he had deposited his cares as into a holy sanctuary, and had ever found sympathy and affection. The contrast was too painful to Josephine's feelings, and her agony at length became in- supportable. She arose froni her couch. Napoleon had just placed himself in bed, when suddenly and silently the door of his apartment opened. Josephine appeared, her dress and hair in disorder, and her face swollen with weeping. She advanced slowly toward the bed, and with clasped hands gazed upon the covered form of him, who had so long been the god of her idolatry. Forgetting everything else, in the fullness of her grief, she threw her- self upon the bed, clasped the neck of her husband, and gave full vent to her grief Napoleon wept. He dis- missed the attendant who waited at the door of the apart- ment ; and after an interview of an hour, the emperor parted forever from the woman who had been the benig- nant angel of his checkered and turbulent destiny. The next morning she bade adieu to the Tuileries, which she never entered again. Such was the woman, and such her spirit, whose successor Maria Louisa was to become, upon the throne of France. It was indeed a singular fate which was about to unite the destinies of these tw6 beings. Napoleon had fought NAPOLEON'S SECOND MARRIAGE. 237 and gained twenty pitched battles over the armies of Austria. He had spread terror during ten yeai's through- out her dominions. He had twice entered her trembling capital as a conqueror. He had frequently brought his future father-in-law to the brink of destruction. And yet, he was now to be united in the tenderest and most endearing ties with the princess whose family and whose dominion he had so nearly ruined. There were men then living also, who remembered well the day when this haughty and all-conquering aspirant to the fairest and noblest hand in Christendom, had left his watch, his only possession, as security for a small sum of borrowed money. There were women then living who had disclaimed him as a suitor, and even as an associate, when he first appeared in Paris, a poor, meager, unknown, and undistinguished youth, Now, indeed, he might command the approving smiles, and the yielding heart of the most beautiful and most high-born of the daughters of the earth. Human destiny is indeed a wonderful enigma ! Truth is strange ; often far stranger than the most erratic flights of the dis- tempered imagination. The marriage having been duly determined upon by the plenipotentiaries of both monarchs, its announcement was received both at Paris and Vienna with every de- monstration of delight. Splendid fetes were given in honor of the imperial nuptials. Berthier, Prince deNeut- chatel, was sent to Vienna to conduct the empress to Paris. She was married by proxy to her uncle Prince Charles, with all the forms and ceremonies which are so scrupulously observed by the court of Vienna, on the 238 MARIA LOUISA'S ADIEU TO VIENNA. 1st of April, 1810; and the day of her departure from the palace, and from the city of her forefathers, was fixed. It is recorded that the young arch-duchess often shed tears of regret at her contemplated separation from her family, and her connection with a man who had been so long the object of her terror and her aversion. Her family have always been remarkable for the imusual affec- tion and attachment which has ever exiBted between its members. She shed bitter tears at the prospects of the future, which, while they seemed fi-aught with splendor and distinction, might nevertheless be pregnant with dan- ger, with mortification, and with indignity to herself and her family. When the day of departure arrived, Maria Louisa bade adieu to all the members of her famUy. Etiquette re- quired that she should then retire to her apartment, to wait till Berthier came to conduct her to her carriage. When the prince entered her apartment he was surprised to find her bathed in tears. She apologized gracefully for her weakness ; " but," said she, " see how I am sur- rounded here by so many objects which are dear to me, and which I must leave forever. These drawings were made by my sister ; that tapestry was wrought by my mother ; those paintings are by my uncle Charles." In fact, almost every ornament of her apartment was the cherished work of some beloved hand. She expressed her regret also at losing her singing birds, her parrot ; and above all, a separation which more than all the rest seemed to wring her heart with sorrow, was the loss of Fortune^ her lapdog. To lose all these, was a misfoi-- tune which at least excused the tears shed by the tender NOVEL SCHEME OF BERTHIER. 289 and affectionate princess. So mutual was the attachment between her and her little favorite, that they parted with an affecting adieu of regret and complaint. A thought at this moment entered the mind of Ber- thier, Avhich certainly did him great credit. "I have merely come," said he, "to acquaint your majesty, that you need not yet depart for two hours. I will therefore withdraw during that time." He immediately went to the emperor and acquainted him with his plan. Francis II. the most affectionate of fathers, gladly assented to his proposition. The requisite orders were given, and in two hours all was ready for their departure and the execution of his mysterious scheme. The young empress rapidly passed through the do- minions of her father, and reached the confines of the French territories. She was surrounded everywhere with festivities and rejoicings ; and her affection for her parrot and her dog, had almost faded from her memory. It was at Compiegue that she first beheld her future hus- band. The incidents connected with their first interview are well known ; how Napoleon had sent an escort to meet the cortege of his young empress, while he deter- mined to await her arrival ; how his impetuosity over- came his prudence and his decorum ; how he rode forth at a furious rate to meet her carriage ; how he himself opened the door and rushed into her arms ; how she was at first overcome with sudden terror, but being reassured by his tender embraces was about to kneel, when ]!^apoleon jjre- vented her, and overwhelmed her again with his impetii- oua caresses. The imperial couple spent the first night of their union 240 ITS FULFILLMENT. at Compeigne. The next day they proceeded directly to St. Cloud, and thence to Paris. The empress at this period was eighteen years of age. Her personal appearance was interesting. Her hair was of a light color, her eyes were blue and expressive, her carriage was graceful, and her figure was elegant and beautifully projjortioned. Her hands and feet were perfect, and might have served as models to the sculptor. She enjoyed good health; possessed a florid complexion; had an expressive and amiable countenance ; and might indeed have been regarded as handsome, though l?y no means as intel- lectual. Upon her arrival at the palace of the Tuilleries, Napo- leon took the first opportunity to give her the agreeable surprise, which the stratagem of Berthier had prepared for her. He led her into one of the narrow corridors ot the palace, lighted only by a single lamp. " Where are we going ? " said she. " Come, Louisa, are you afraid to follow me ? " replied the emperor, who pressed his young bride to his bosom with affectionate tenderness. Sud- denly they stopj)ed at a door, within which they heard the impatient barking of a dog which seemed dissatisfied with its prison. Napoleon opened the door, and desired Louisa to enter. Imagine her surprise and delight to find herself in a splendid apartment, greeted by her little favorite from Vienna ; while in glancing around her, she saw the room furnished with the same chairs, carpets, paintings, birds, drawings, and all the other cherished mementoes of her former happy home, placed in the same order and arrangement which they had formerly occupied, Maria Louisa, overcome by her delightful emotions, threw her BERTHIER'S REWARD. 241 self into her husband's arms, who embraced her with de- light, very much in defiance of all the established rules of court etiquette. To complete the interesting scene, Berthier now en- tered, when Napoleon said : " Louisa, it is to him that you owe this unexpected pleasure. I desire you to em- brace him' as a just reward." Berthier took the hand of the empress ; but the emperor added : " No, no, you must kiss my old and faithful friend." His agreeable order was obeyed ; and the marshal saluted with mingled confusion and pleasure the blooming 'and blushing bride of his master. Thus, at length, after so many storms and struggles, after the convulsions which had shaken a continent, and the mighty upheavings which had overturned thrones and dynasties, the loud clarion of battle had ceased to resound ; the drum no longer beat to arms ; and the imperial eagle having soared in the highest heaven of glory, had folded its wings and paused on its ambitious way. Universal peace prevailed. The harsh words of command had given place to the gentle and endearing accents of love. Mars was neglected and Hymen honored. The gates of the temple of Janus were closed ; while Concord and Cupid with their benignant scepters reigned over the rejoicing nations. "Grim viaa'ged war had smoothed his wrinkled front, And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute I " The Court of St. Cloud, to the magnificent portals of which the youthful cinpioss was conducted by her illus- K ' 16 242 THE SPLENDOR OF NAPOLEON'S COURT. trious spouse, and the empii-e which she was invited to share with him, exceeded in splendor, in renown, and in every element of human grandeur, all other courts which ever existed. The brilliancy of the alliance which now took place, excited the admiration of aU the world. Man- kind had never before witnessed a union by which so many glories, such imposiag historical associations, such re- nown and such splendor had been combined together. The union of Arragon and Castile by the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, had led to the establishment of the Spanish monarchy, wliich became the greatest in chivalrous power and heroism in its day, which van- quished the Moorish empire in one continent, and the Pe- ruvian in another. The union of Hungary and Bohemia with the hereditary states of Austria, by the marriage of Maria Theresa with Francis I, had produced a great monarchy. The consolidation of Scotland and England under James I. had greatly increased the magnitude and promoted the aggrandizement of the British realms. But these were insignificant combinations compared with the one which now had taken place. There on the one hand was the vast and ancient inheritance of the house of Hapsburg, of Charles V. and of Maria Theresa, combined with that of Charlemagne, of the long line of the Capets, and of the Bourbons. The former sovereignty had been the result of the steady and careful accumulation of ages, of long struggles and of numerous ^acissitudes. The lat- ter empire had been won by an untitled adventurer from a remote island of the sea ; by the victorious hero of an hundred battles ; by a man whose ambition had convulsed Europe, and whose god-Uke genius was the wonder and THE ELEMENTS OF ITS SPLENDOR. 243 the terror of his race. Napoleon had mounted a throne upon which fifty-five anointed sovereigns had sat in suc- cession, from the day that Childeric I. ascended it in the fifth century, down tUl that period. He was their successor, their heir, their representative. The court over which Maria Louisa was invited now to preside, was brilliant in proportion to the magnitude of the empire over which it ruled. Paris was then the me- tropohs of the civihzed world. Thither tended as to a mighty and all-devouring vortex, the luxurious expendi- tures of Europe's princes and nobility. Thither clus- tered, as around the great center of social refinement and splendor, the most beautiful, the most accomphshed, the most fascinating women, as well as the bravest, the no- blest, and the most illustrious men. js- There, as the acknowledged head and supreme sover- eign was the modern Achilles ; a hero as brave, as gifted, and as ambitious as Caesar or Alexander, and more pow- erful and fortunate than either. His first wife Josephiue, like the evening star, had retired in sweetness and in beauty from the scenes of her former grandeur which she had so weU adorned and dignified, to the shades of private life at Malmaison ; where she remained unseen by a world who remembered her only to^ admire her virtues and to regret her absence ; but where she was stiU adored by the few who were allowed to behold her sulSdued splen- dor. That court was now graced with the presence of Pauline Bonaparte, the most lovely and the most seductive of women ; the modern Venus, as beautiftil and as frail as the goddess whom she so aptly represented. There was Queen Hortense, the wife of Louis Bonaparte, who had 244 ITS HEROES AND BEAUTIES. inherited her mother's amiability and intelligence. There was Caroline Bonaparte, the queen of Naples, and the princess Eliza ; both of them worthy to be the sisters of an emperor ; whose accomplishments were the praise, but whose intrigues were the scandal of all Europe. There was Talleyrand, the most sagacious and far-seeing of states- men ; Fouche, the most cunning and intriguing of min- isters ; and Cambaceres, the most dignified of courtiers. There were clusters of renowned warriors who had van- quished the embattling foes of France on many a blood- stained field ; the heroic Ney, the impetuous Lannes, the dauntless Massena, the resolute Macdonald, and the pru- dent Soult. There the ambassadors of mighty kings and the representatives of distant and renowned republics were assembled ; %d added a brighter luster to scenes already sufficiently' resplendent. There, too, was the charm produced by the presence of dramatic genius — of Mile. Mars, the most brilliant of actresses, of Talma, the most consummate of tragedians. The ancient nobili- ty of France were represented by the Princess DeRohan, and by others of its most illustrious scions. Peerless beauty also illumined the gilded halls of St. Cloud by its fascinating presence ; for there was Madam Tallien, who still retained the undiminished splendor of her majestic beauty ; whose heroic love had inspired her husband in other days to strike the first death-blow to the terrible power of Robespierre. There too were Mesdames Janot, Grandt and Recamier, her equals in personal charms, though not in genius and in fame. Around the court and withia the capital of the, great Napoleon, were as- sembled the most eminent men of that day, in every art ITS ARTISTS AND SAVANS. 245 and science known to human genius ; Isabey the painter, Paer the composer, Champollion the antiquary, Corvisart the physician, the doctors of the Sorbonne, the savans of the institute, peers of ancient houses, and statesmen and soldiers of immortal name. All these governed from that spot, under the guidance of their great chief, the interests of many climes. Around the court of St. Cloud, the anxious curiosity and interest of mankind from Mos- cow to Madrid, and from the bleak hUls of Scotland to the balmy shores ofthcBosphorus were there concentrated, as toward the great center of affairs ; as the spot whence all absolute decrees proceeded, which controlled aliks the world of fashion, the republic of letters, the fortunes of war, and the destinies of nations. <;•.!- Such was the court over which the young and timid empress was suddenly called to preside. Shortly after the marriage, Maria Louisa accompanied Napoleon into Belgium. This journey was taken by him in consequence of various disputes which had taken place between the emperor and his brother Louis, the king of that country, which had terminated in a complete rupture. At Ant- werp, and indeed throughout the whole tour, the empress received the homage of the Dutch, and the imperial pair were everywhere greeted with public rejoicings, fetes, and manifestations of popular joy. Louis had been forced to abdicate ; and Belgium and Holland had, by an impe- rial decree, been annexed to the French empire. This journey was intended to afford an opportunity to inspect the actual wants of the countries, whose government he was thus constrained personally to assume. He returned 246 FESTIVITIES IN PARIS. by way of Ostend, Lille, and Normandy, to St. Cloud, where he ai-rived with his empress in June, 1810. The festivities which took place at Paris in honor of the imperial ruptials had not ceased before a most lament- able event took jslace, whose sad details will long be re- membered. This was the dreadful accident which occured at Prince Schwartzenberg's ball, in July of the same year. The prince occupied the Hotel Montesson, but its capa- cious proportions were not sufficient to accommodate the large and brilliant company which honored the ball with their presence. A temporary saloon had been constructed in the garden, which resembled a fairy palace, filled with flowers, perfumes, deUcious music, and the dazzling splen- dor of diamonds and jewels. The walls were covered, with gold and silverobrocade, while hundreds of crystal chandeliers shed their glittering luster over the gorgeous scene. Maria Louisa and Napoleon were present. The dan- cing had just commenced when the fire was discovered. The empress was then engaged in conversation with some ladies near the throne which adorned one end of the apart- ment. With great self-possession and courage she imme- diately ascended the steps of the throne, seated herself there, and waited till Napoleon came to conduct her from the scene of peril and disaster. This he immediately , his character be- came more interesting and remarkable. His intelligence and spirit were unusual, r.nd indicated a nature of more than ordinary talent ai.I power. He possessed, however, a very violent temper. His governess, Madame de Montesquieu, once corrected him for the excessive fury of his passion. On another similar occasion, she ordered all the shutters of the windows to be closed, though it was broad day light. The child, astonished to find the MADAM DE MONTESQUIOU. 251 light of day excluded, and the candles lighted, inquired the reason of the novel proceedure. "In order that no one may hear you, sii-e," she replied. "The French would never have you for their king, if they knew you were so violent." " Have I cried very loud ? " said he, " and did they hear me ? " "I fear they have," was the answer. He then fell to weeping, and throwing his arms around his governess' neck, said — " I will never do so again. Mamma Quiou ; pray forgive me ! " On another occasion, later in his history, the emperor took his son to a review in the Champ de Mars. " Was he frightened at the shouts of the veteran Guards ? " inqiured the empress. " Frightened ? no, surely," replied Napoleon; "he knew that he was among his father's friends." After the review Napoleon conversed for some time with the architect, Fontaine, respecting the palace to be buUt for the king of Rome on the elevated ground facing the military school. The word Home brought to the mind of the emperor the fact that he had never visit- ■ ed the eternal city, and was a personal stranger to its memorable scenes. " But," said he " I shall go there some day, for it is the city of my httle king." Alas ! the little king, for whom so rich an inheritance had been pre- pared, never entered upon its possession. His was a much smaller domain at the age of twenty-one — that of the grave. We will not dwell upon the succeeding events of Na-r poleon's career, during which time Maria Louisa remained his nominal wife. The short reign of the great hero iu his diminutive empire at Elba ; his retui'n to France in 1815, the bold and desperate daring of which, took the 252 MEANNESS OF MARIA LOUISA'S NATURE. whole world by surprise ; his wonderful struggles during the hundred days, by which the mastery of his genius over the combined diplomatists and soldiers of a conti- nent, was most signally apparent ; and the accidental though ruinous reverse to his aspiring fortunes at Water- loo ; these events are too familiar to aU men, to require a repetition here. But it wiU be sufficient to remark, that had Maria Louisa possessed the least spark of romance in her soul, or the least superiority of intellect, or the least affection for her immortal spouse, her efforts to spend with him the decline of life, and her endeavors to alleviate his sufferings, would have added to the history of both a charm and an attraction, far superior to any which is now associated with their names ! As soon as the influence of Napoleon's mind was re- moved from her's, and his elevated sentiments no longer inspired her conduct, Maria Louisa displayed the true meanness of her nature ; and that was done apparently in utter and innocent unconsciousness of her degradation and her debasement in the estimation of the world. By the treaty of Vienna in 1815, she became the sovereign of Parma and Modena, Through the mtrigues of her own family, an Austrian colonel was placed in connection with her, as prime minister, with the covert design of her seduction and disgrace as the wife of Napoleon. Count Niepberg soon accomplished this disgraceful purpose, and became her acknowledged paramour. She had two chil- dren by him ; and while the great Napoleon still lived and languished on the bleak height of Helena, his recre- ant wife reveled with the unprincipled seducer La shame- less excesses, amid the sumptuous palaces and retreats of DEATH OF THE KING OF ROME. 253 Parma. After a few years Niepberg died, and Maria Louisa became almost frantic at his loss. Yet after a short time her mind, incapable of stability and of exalted sentiment of any kind, solaced itself with other and suc- cessive attachments. Her son, the Duke of Reichstadt, died in Vienna, the victim of the state craft of his unnat- ural grandfather ; who surrounded him with various temptations to debauchery, which, through the adroitness of Prince Mettei'nich, were so skillfully appHed, that he soon became their unconscious victim, and died a prema- ture death. His mother, disgraced and despised by all the world, soon followed him to the tomb, having fur- nished in her life a memorable evidence of the fact, that ignoble minds, however much tbey may have been eleva- ted for a time above their kindred degradation, by con- nection with more exalted natures, when that better in- fluence is removed will relapse again to that condition, which possesses greater consonance with their own mborn and ineradicable baseness. And among the existing in- stances in which greatness has been thrust upon its pos- sessors, and persons of the most ordinary qualities have become the object of the curiosity, wonder and congratu- lation of the civilized world, the case of Maria Louisa is probably the most remarkable ; for without the aid of her exalted birth, and her stUl more exalted alliance in marriage, she would inevitably have passed down to the shades of the common obHvion, without having scarcely excited a remark, or generated an emotion ! CHAPTER XI. EXPEDITION OP NAPOLEON IN ETTSStA. Napoleon, having determined upon the invasion of Russia, immediately prepared to achieve that gigantic enterprise. Well might even his stupendous genius hesi- tate and reconsider its purpose, when contemplating an expedition more astounding and audacious than any e'fer before conceived by the human mind. Russia was at that time the most formidable opponent whom he could "con- fi-ont in Europe. The three hundred Spartans stemming the mighty tide of Persian invasion at the strait of Thermopylae ; or Caesar crossing the Rubicon with his legions, thus bidding defiance to the hostile power of Rome ; or Cortez with five hundred Spaniards, invading the vast empire of Mexico ; these and other renowned instances of desperate and intrepid adventure, were trifles in comparison with the vastness, grandeur, and heroism of Napoleon's invasion of Russia ; a country containing at that time fifty millions of inhabitants, an army of five hun- dred thousand men, with the howling tempests, the furi- ous snow storms, and the intense cold of a Russian win- ter, superadded to the infernal horrors of the scene. Yet all these obstacles did not for a moment daunt the fearless " child of destiny." The solemn and mysterious voice of fate, still seemed to say to him in audible tones : "Onward! to the city of the czars! All Europe will MAGNITUDE OF THE ENTERPRISK. 255 then be beneath your feet," and that voice he had swoni to obey, whether it whispered to him beneath tlie fair skies of Italy, amid the sandy waste of Egypt, on the fruitful plains of Spain, or amid the cheerless snows of Russia. Napoleon set off on this memorable expedition, from Paris, in the month of May, 1812, accompanied by Maria Louisa ; who had expressed a desire to see her father. Austria was at that time in alliance with France. Toward the Vistula, as to a common center, were then moving by the emperor's command, countless multitudes of troops, cavalry, artUlery, carriages, provisions and baggage of every description ; and the grand aimy composed of nearly six himdred thousand troops, well equipped, and experienced in war, commanded by Napoleon himself, assisted by his most celebrated marshals, was an arma- ment unequaled for effectiveness in the whole history of warfare. The millions of imbecile Persians who once deluged Greece, under the command of Xerxes ; the hostUe hosts which combatted at Cannae and Pharsaha ; the Ottoman force which beseiged Vienna, and which was scattered to the winds by John Sobieski ; all these were inferior to the stupendous and well aj^pointed armament which now marshaled under the orders of the modern Achilles, and boldly menaced the capital and the throne of the czars. Yet that immense host, and its re- nowned commander, were marching under the fatal spell of an evil genius ; and were allured by splendid chimeras, onward to the vortex of inevitable ruin. During the short residence of Napoleon at Dresden, a scene of magnificence and splendor was presented, to 266 SPLENDID SCENES AT DRESDEN. which no parallel can be found in modern history. The once humble Corsican was surrounded with a degree of glory and grandeur which had fallen to the lot of no hu- man being before or since, whether he was born the heir of kings, or of beggars. Napoleon occupied the palace of the ancient monarchs of Saxony, surrounded by his marshals, generals, and all the brilliant male and female members of his court. Day after day, and night after night, the most splendid J%tes were given him, while adulation and homage more profound than had ever be- fore been offered to a sovereign were lavished upon him. An innumerable crowd of courtiers, generals, ministers, princes, dukes, and even kings, swarmed assiduously around him, upon whom he, in return, not only bestowed benignant smiles, but lavished rich gifts, worthy of the munificence of so great a conqueror. It is related that on several occasions as many as four sovereigns of great states, were waiting patiently at the same time in his ante-chamber. Many queens were proud of the dignity of being maids of honor to Maria Louisa. The streets were thronged with splendid equipages, passing to and fro, from audiences asked and happily obtained from this king of kings ; while the rapid departure and arrival of messengers and couriers to every part of Europe, indica- ted the vast supervision exercised by him over the greater portion of the European kingdoms. Then indeed had the power of this wondrous adventurer reached a pinna^ cle, unequaled by that of any other mortal ; for his impe- rious will alone seemed to determine the conduct and the fate of five hundred miUions of the human race, who re- ceived with mingled curiosity and apprehension whatever A PASSAGE OF THE KIEMEN. 257 he might decree respecting their interests and their fate. On the 24th of June, 1812, the grand army passed the Niemen by three bridges, which had been erected by the orders of Napoleon ; and thus they set their foot for the first time upon the forbidden territory of their great foe. Two entire days were occupied with the passage of the troops. Two hundred and fifty thousand men at that single point marched under the order of Napoleon ; and never before had a more magnificent display of all the glorious yet delusive pomp and circumstance of war been made. The French army passed this fatal boundary fine in high, exulting hope, anticipating abrilliant and triumph- ant campaign, and the speedy subjugation of the power of Russia. In six months alas ! how sad and frightful a wreck of this once splendid armament, tottered back again to the banks of this same river, a few exhausted and stragghng thousands whom the sword of the aveng- ing foe, and the more relentless and deadly embrace of a Russian winter, had spared to teU the tale of the unex- pected ruin of this great and brave armament. It is said that the emperor Alexander of Russia was at a ball in the neighborhood of Wilna, when he first heard that the French army had at length crossed the Niomen, and invaded his territory. He immediately issued a proe- lamation, calling upon his faithful subjects to defend their country and their religion ; and concluded it by declaring that he himself would not sheathe his sword as long as an enemy remained within the Russian dommions. The policy which he had determined to adopt on this memora- ble occasion, was one which proves the sagacity and pr,- 17 258 THE POLICY OF ALEXANDER L found wisdom of Alexander, to which his own triumph and the ultimate defeat of his foe are alone attributable. Had Alexander determined to resist the mvader upon the field, he would have been vanquished ; for Napoleon's ability as a commander was unequaled ; his military force was in perfect discipline and effectiveness ; and defeat af- ter defeat Avould have been the inevitable result of a rash purpose to confront directly so great a general with so powerful an army. Alexander wisely resolved diffaj^ ently. His purpose was to retire slowly with his armies as the invader advanced ; never to risk the hazard of a general engagement ; thus to preserve his troops unim- paired, until the period for the summer campaign being ended, the terrible fury of a Russian winter would de- scend upon the presumptuous foe, and inflict that penalty which no mortal hand seemed to possess the ability to accomplish. The wisdom of this policy began immediately to dis- play itself After passing the Niemen, the first city of importance on the route of the French army was Wilna Napoleon entered it on the 28th of June ; and at the same moment Barclay de Tolly, the Russian general, deserted it by the opposite gate. But ere Napoleon reached Wilna, he was compelled to pass through a terri- tory which his foe had alreadj' desolated ; his horses perished by thousands from the want of wholesome prov- ender ; and twenty-five thousand sick and dying men already filled the hospitals of Wilna. It was not yet too late for him who was so boldly defiant of God and man to recede from the brink of ruin ; but the lesson was in vain. NAPOLEON AT VITEPSK. 259 After an imprudent delay of seventeen days at Wilna, Napoleon resumed his march toward Moscow. On the 26th of July he reached Vitepsk, and endeavored to draw the Russian commander, Barclay, into a general engage- ment. On the evening of the 27th, the latter seemed to be preparing to meet the invader in the large plain which surrounds tlie city. During the night the watch tires in the Russian camp continued to burn with their wonted brilliancy. On -the morning of the 28th, however, no trace of the Russian, army could be found in the camp. To the astonishment of Napoleon, during the night, Barclay had effected a retreat in such excellent order, that not the slightest sound had been heard, even by the watchful Murat who had bivouacked with the advanced post of the French army. The great conqueror had again been eluded by his intended victim, who had thus adroitly slipped once more from his deadly grasp. While Napoleon halted at Vitepsk, he received infor- mation which by no means served to increase his enthu- siasm. He there learned that the Russian emperor had concluded a treaty of peace with the Turks ; which at once rendered a large army of some fifty thousand men, then employed on the Danube, available against his French foe. The latter also learned, that the czar had concluded a treaty with Sweden, by which means Berna- dotte, the sovereign of that country, was detached from the interests of Napoleon, and rendered at least neutral in the present conflict. These were events of great importance to the French emperor ; and these, together with the immense losses of men and horses which he had already suffered, and 260 HIS PAINFUL SUSPENSE. the advanced stage of the season, induced some of Na- poleon's more prudent and experienced marshals to ad- vise him to advance no further into the Russian territory ; but to defer his invasion until the succeeding spring, and to agree to a temporary armistice with Alexander. The great mind of Napoleon was, on this occasion, strangely and painfully agitated by conflicting purposes. Many grave considerations proclaimed the propriety and justice of these more prudent counsels. He had already lost many thousands of men, by the .inevitable vicissitudes of the campaign. He had discovered' in the Russian commanders and troops, a degree of desperate heroism which he had not anticipated. He already found it ex- ceedingly difficult to obtain the necessary provisions for his immense host. He was surrounded by a hostile and treacherous population ; and above all, the indescribable horrors of a Russian winter would soon overwhelm his exhausted troops. On the other hand, it was then but the middle of sum- mer. Ought the hero of Austerlitz to take up his winter quarters, in the month of July ? Besides, by pressing for- ward he would soon arrive beneath the walls of Moscow ; and there, in a great and decisive battle, he would meet and vanquish his foe ; he would dethrone the hostile and humbled Czar ; he would enter Moscow in triumph ; he would then himself wield the scepter of the Russian em- pire, and would date his decrees to the four quarters of Europe from the Kremlin, the ancient palace and citadel of the Muscovite kings. Then, after a winter spent amid the frozen splendors of that northern capital, he HE RESOLVES TO ADVANCE. 261 would return vnih triumphant eagles to the sumptuous haUs of St. Cloud. It is said, that while Napoleon balanced in his mind the relative weight of the arguments on both sides of this great and momentous question, he was agitated as he never before had been. For several days his mind was in a terrific state of excitement. He slept neither by night nor by day. He could not rest for a moment. He could bear no clothing upon his bed ; but during the hours of darkness, rolled and tossed in ceaseless agitation, weighing in his mind the doubtful probabilities of the great venture before him. At length, after several days of painful uncertainty, he arrived at the determination to advance. " We must be in Moscow in a month," said he, " or we wUl never be there. Peace awaits us only under its walls." The die was then cast ; and his desti- ny must needs be fulfilled. Giving the general order to advance, his troops arrived under their respective leaders, on the 16th of August, before the ancient walls of Smolensko. The two most able generals of the czar, Barclay de Tolly and Prince Bagrathion, had succeeded, after some severe skinnishes with the enemy, in reaching this venerable fortress, and in throwing their troops within its walls. This city is situated on the banks of the Dnieper. Its fortifications were old, but were still able to resist the shock of artillery. The Russian generals appear at first to have resolved to defend the city to the laf5t extremity. An ancient wall thirty-five feet high, and eighteen feet thick, surrounded the whole city, which presented an appearance in the highest degree picturesque. The most prominent buUd 262 NAPOLEOK AT SMOLENSKO. ings, among the many which still remained as monu- ments of former Sarmatian splendor, were the citadel and the cathedral. The former was chiefly conspicuous for its size. The latter was a venerable and majestic edifice surmounted by vast gilded domes, and adorned with lofty spires which ghttered afar in the beams of the sim. From the spire of this cathedral the Russian generals be- held the hosts of the French hero as they successively arrived in immense masses, resplendent with steed and gold, and all the glittering trappings of war. As far as the eye could reach even with the aid of the telescope, the plain around Smolensko was covered with the martial hosts. From their high perch the Russian generals anxiously surveyed the scene ; and endeavored to com- pute the magnitude and poAver of the armament thus brought to bear against the beleaguered city. In silence and with the utmost precision, division after division wheeled into its appropriate place ; and two hundred thousand men were ready to advance to the attack of Smolensko, defended by a hundred thousand troops under the command of the Russian generals. The latter after a long and anxious survey of the French forces from the gilded spires of the cathedral, determined not to stand the hazard of a siege, but to with- draw from Smolensko, and continue the retreat toward Moscow. The Russian troops accordingly defiled out of the city on the only side which was uninvested by the French, the one which led to Moscow. Bagrathion com- manded the retreat; Barclay de Tolly defended the waUs. When ISj'apoleon discovered the intention of the Rus- SIEGE OF SMOLENSKO. 263 sians still to retreat, he was exasperated beyond measure ; and he determined at once to order a general assault. At two o'clock Marshal Ney attacked the great citadel. At the same time Davoust led his division against the ramparts. Poniatowsky brought sixty pieces of artillery to bear upon the bridges which connected both sides of the city over the Dneiper, The Russians were prepared to receive their assailants. In vain their batteries thun- dered against the ancient walls eighteen feet in thickness. In vain did Ney " the bravest of the brave," attack the citadel. The utmost exertions of the assailants availed nothing against the combined power of the fortress and the heroism of its defenders. At length night came, and Napoleon had not yet won victory to his standards. At seven in the evening he called off his troops from the hopeless attack. The Russians had successftdly resisted the seventy thousand men whom Napoleon had led for- ward to the assault, duiing which he had lost fifteen thousand men. At nine o'clock in the evening, total silence peiwaded both camps ; but soon an appalling spectacle was present- ed to the view of the besiegers. Their red-hot balls had set fire to some wooden buildings within the ramparts, and soon the lurid flames of a vast conflagration illumined the darkness of the whole horizon. The lire rapidly ex- tended toward a more central part of the city. High above the tumultuous ocean of flame and smoke, towered the glittering domes of the cathedral, which they seemed in vahi to assail. As the conflagration increased, its ex- tending flames threw a clearer light over the assembled hosts who peopled the plains around, and who gazed in 264 RETREAT OF THE RUSSIANS. sileni awe and wonder upon a scene of such terror and sublimity. But even this scene was but an humble pre- cursor of one of far greater magnitude and terror, which they were destined afterward to behold. The Russians retreated from Smolensko during the whole of this memorable night, along the Moscow road. When morning dawned Davoust j^enetrated without any resistance within the walls, and found a deserted city. The French troops however saw nothing but desolation and ruin on every side. The Russians had even destroy- ed the magazines, and left nothing to the possession of the invaders, but naked walls and mouldering masses of ruin. , On the 22d of August Napoleon left Smolensko, and advanced with his army on the road to Moscow. Al- ready that capital began to tremble with terror, as the dread conqueror approached nearer and nearer to her walls. No city, not even Rome with Hannibal thunder- ing at her gates, was ever agitated with so intense a dread, as was the ancient cajjital of Russia, when the news arrived that Napoleon Avith three hundred thou- sand troops had left Smolensko, and resumed his march for Moscow. At this crisis an aged and experienced gen- eral of Russian birth returned to that city fi-om his con- quests on the confines of Turkey ; and to him, the univer- sal voice of the nation requested the emperor Alexander to confide the supreme command. This veteran was Kutusoff. It was thought that his great talents, and his gresfter experience would afford a surer presage of victo- ry, under the imparalleled circumstance of peril and dis- aster which seemed to threaten the Russian throne and KUTUSOFF. 265 empire at that moment. Since the days of the dauntless Suwarrow, no Russian general had won so many great triumphs over the Turks, or had given so many proofs of unconquerable heroism, as he had done during a long life of vicissitude and warlike adventure. Since the entrance of Napoleon into Russia the em- peror Alexander had ordered his generals not to venture upon a general engagement. But as the French ap- proached Moscow — 'Uow only fifty leagues distant, the increasing panic of its inhabitants imperatively demanded that the invader should be met in the field ; and the ap- pointment of Kutusoff to the supreme command was a proof that a great battle was at length determined upon by the Russian monarch. The memorable field of Boro- dino lay in the pathway of Napoleon, ere he could place his eager hand on the crown of Russia, deposited in the treasure-chamber of the Kremlin ; and to that spot the forces of the czar were now concentrated, for the pur- pose of confronting the foe. On the 5th of September the head of Napoleon's col- umns came in sight of the humble village, whose name has since become immortal on one o^the bloodiest pages of history. When evening came, the watchfires of both armies shed a gloomy light over an immense plain, form- ing two vast opposing semi-circles, which closed in the whole horizon on both sides. The hostUe armies passed a sleepless night. They were on the eve of one of the great decisive battles of the world, which was to control the future fate of millions. Napoleon passed the night in his tent, alternately racked by anxious thoughts and fearful forebodings of the future ; and with emotions of 266 BORODINO. tenderness as he gazed with rapture on thfe portrait of his fair chOd, the king of Rome, which Isabey had com plated since his departure from Paris, and which had but a day or two before arrived in his camp. At length the long and tedious night passed away, and the morning sun shone brightly on the hostile hosts. It was the sun of Borodino, forever memorable in the annals of blood and aU the horrors of war ! Early in the morn- ing Napoleon rode along the far-reaching lines of his grim warriors, and encouraged them with v/ords of confi- dence which he did not himself feel ; for already the un- expected disasters of the campaign had much diminished his first assurance in its ultimate issue. He reminded them that they were the unconquered heroes of Austerlitz and Friedland ; that this was the last great battle to be fought by them, before Moscow opened her gorgeous gates to receive them ; and that a triumph now would insure the speedy end of their toils, and their quick re- turn to their native France. His words were received with shouts of rapture and exultation by the whole army. In the Russian eamp a somewhat similar scene was enacted on the morning of this great day. A large con- course of Russian priests, headed by a prelate of high rank, who carried in his arms an image reputed to pos- sess miraculous power, passed along the ranks, which knelt as they approached. The prelate blessed the prostrate warriors as they lay ; and as the procession returned along the lines, the s^velling sound of sacred melody chaunted by the strong voices of the priests, ascended upon the morning air, and floated sweetly over the plain COMMENCEMENT OF THE BATTLE. 267 BO soon to be deeply deluged mth hnman blood. Kutu- Boff himself rode along the lines, and by his dauntless yet solemn air, infused new courage and devotion into the hearts of his warriors. The impressive sounds of prayer and praise as uttered by the Russian priests and soldiers, were even wafted by the breeze to the French camp, and did not fail to call forth the ridicule and satire of the gay and in-everent children of the Seine. Thus fortified according to their respective tastes for the terrific scenes before them, the two annies prepared for battle. Their strength was nearly equal. The Rus- sian force consisted of one hundred and thirty thousand men, together with six hundred and fifty pieces of artil- lery. The French army was about equal to these in num- ber, with a similar quantity of artillery ; though thirty thousand of the French troops were cavalry, which gave them some advantage over their opponents. The Russians had fortified themselves in a strong po- sition in and around the village of Borodino. In the center they had erected a great redoubt which mounted a hundred guns. Around this work the most bloody and desperate conflicts of the day were destined to take place. By Napoleon's orders, the fierce Davoust commenced the battle by advancing against the Russian lines on the right. Slowly and steadily his columns approached the terrific line of flame which already marked the position of the Russian batteries. Before reaching them, Davoust had his horse shot under him, and Generals Rapp and Desaix were wounded. Confusion began to prevail among the advancing host, but they were reassured by the loud clarion voice of their dauntless leader, and were again led 268 THE FURY OF THE CONFLICT. forward to the attack. After a fierce struggle the re- doubts on the Russian left were taken, and Davoust estab- lished himself in the 2)osition wrested from the foe. The center of the French army was led on by Marshal Ney. He ordered three divisions to advance, supported by ten thousand cavalry under Murat ; and protected by seventy pieces of artillery. They were opposed by the flower of the Russian troops under Prince Bagrathion. Soon the French columns came within range of the terri- ble deluge of shot and shell which was belched forth from the Russian batteries. On the heights of Borodino, un- daunted by the fearful havoc made in their lines, which crumbled like frost-work beneath the Russian fire, they still advanced. Whole files and companies were swept down by the murderous flood ; but the cavities were in- stantly filled up, and still the tide of dauntless warriors roUed onward. On the heights of Borodino the most terrific conflict took place perhaps recorded in the history of warfare. After four hours of desperate fighting the Russians stiU maintamed their position ; and Marshal Ney anxiously demanded from Napoleon reinforcements to enable him to maintain his position. Napoleon ordered the Young Guard, all the cavalry yet in reserve, and four hundred pieces of cannon to advance, and to assail the great redoubt in the Russian center. Prince Eugene had already narrowly escaped being captured at the head of his column, which had saved themselves only by fonning into squares, and thus presenting an impenetrable barrier to the attacks of the Russian cuirassiers. The immense reinforcement ordered by Napoleon against the Russian center, after prodigious conflicts and THE GREAT CENTRAL REDOUBT. 269 immense losses from the artillery of the foe, succeeded in driving back the Russian line. At this crisis Pripce Ba- grathion perceiving the advantage gained by the French, ordered the whole left wing to advance to the attack. Then occurred one of those tremendous shocks of battle beneath which the very earth itself trembles. Eighty thousand men and seven hundred pieces of artUlery con- tended on the plain during the space of an hour for deadly mastery ; and prodigious feats of heroism, of desperate valor, of undying resolution, on both sides, to triumph or to perish, were exhibited. Blood flowed over the surface of the battle-field in. torrents. Thousands of the dying and the dead lay heaped in piles, before, around, and be- neath the surviving combatants ; and it- seemed that noth- ing could terminate the furious and deadly conflict, ex- cept the entire destruction of the contending hosts. At length Prince Bagrathion being severely wounded, the Russian ranks began to give way. They withdrew with all their artillery from their first position, and estab- lished themselves in its rear, in the ravine of Semenowsky. Still the great redoubt ia the center remained untaken. Napoleon with his eagle eye, readily discovered the im- portance of that point, and about the middle of the day, ho ordered Eugene, with two hundred cannon, to advance together with Monbran's division of culrasrsiers to peue- trttte the Russian line, and wheeluig round, to enter the entrenchment through its gorge. It was defended by the regiment of Osterman ; and soon the redoubt was envel- oped in a vast cloud of flame and smoke, through which the ghttering steel trappings of the cuirassiers were seen at inteiwals, gradually ascending its slopes, and approach- 2Y0 THE VICTORY OF THE FRENCH. ing its summit. After a prodigious conflict the redoubt ■was won ; but not until the regiment which defended it were entirely massacred by the savage onslaught of the French. They refused to give or to receive any quarter ; and the whole of the corps of Osterman were slain within the works, which they had so heroically defended. Driven to madness by the loss of their main fortress, the Russian lines which had taken up their position in its rear now again advanced, determined if possible, by un- heard-of efforts, to retrieve the fortunes of the day, Kutu- soff himself led on the attack. In adm.irable order they advanced toward the works which they had lost, which were now manned by the victorious French, whence eighty pieces of cannon thundered against their approach- ing ranks. They succeeded in taking some of the smaller redoubts ; but their heroism was in vain. Thousands fell upon the field, displaying a degree of resolution un- equaled in war, but without effect. Distressed at the fruitless and hopeless butchery resulting from his advance, Kutusoff at length gave the order to retire, and resumed his former position on the heights, in the rear of the works won by the French. Seeing no decisive advantage gained either on the Russian right or left, toward the close of the day, he ordered a general retrograde movement of the whole Hue to the works in the rear of those which had been occupied by the Russians at the beginning of the conflict ; and thus, when the shades of evening settled down over the ensanguined plain, the whole line of the first Russian positions had fallen iijto the hands of the French. Ojice during the progress of this memorable day, victo- IMMENSE COST OF THE VICTORY. 271 f y seemed about to perch upon the standards of the Rus- sians, and to desert the proud invader. KutusoiF seeing the weakness of Napoleon's left, ordered OuTaroff, with eight regiments of Cossacljis, to cross the Kolotza, a stream in front of the Russian lines, and attack the left of the French. The impetuous and savage fury of the Cossacks was irresistible, and the French hnes, then un- supported by the artillery whiph had been dispatched against the grand redoubts, wavered, broke, and retreated before their desperate assault. The whole French line began to give way. Napoleon, from the eminence on which he stood, saw by the aid of his spy-glass the great- ness of the disaster ; and his imperial cheek was paled with terror. The trembling phantoms of royalty and vic- tory appeared about to desert his standards ; and the wan finger of destiny seemed for a moment to point to- ward destruction as his doom. Then it was that he him- self rapidly rode to his wavering lines, accomi^anied by the cavalry and artillery of his guards; and by prodigious efforts redeemed the fortunes of the day, and drove the Russians back again to their first position. Night came and the battle ended. The victory re- mained with Napoleon, but such a victory and at such a sacrifice ! The triumph itself brought no benefit with it ; for the Russians merely withdrew the next day toward Moscow, leaving thousands of dead and wounded as ob- stacles in the pathway of the invaders. The sacrifices which this triumph cost Napoleon were indeed dreadful. Another such victory, and hke Pyrrhus of old he might exclaim that he was utterly ruined. For the space of six miles the plain was thickly covered with the dying and 272 THE FIELD OF BATTLE. the dead. Prince BagratMon and thirty generals, fifteen thousand killed and thirty thousand wounded, were the losses of the Russians; while Napoleon mourned the death of Generals Monbrun and Canlaincourt, and the loss of twelve thousand killed, and thirty-eight thousand wounded. Nearly ninety thousand human beings, either killed or wounded then lay weltering in their blood upon that memorable field ; while as far as the eye could reach there was visible nothing but a tumultuous heap of hu- man bodies, horses, broken guns, casques, cuirasses, hel- mets, and other faded and bloody trophies of the glory and magnificence of war. Wounded horses maddened with the pain, struggled among the piles of slain. The wounded soldiers filled the aii- with their shrieks of agony calling in vain for help and succor ; for the resources of the French surgeons Avere totally insufficient to meet a thousandth part of the demands made upon them. Na- poleon from the eminence on which he had watched the progress of the battle, gloomily surveyed the appalling spectacle after the conflict was ended. His triumph instead of filling his mind with exultation, savored more of the sadness of defeat. His losses had been terrible. His only advantage was that he remained possessor of the battle field, and this was no equivalent for the immense losses which ho had endured. In the resolution and for- titude displayed by the Russians, he saw an ominous pre- sage of future resistance and disaster which he had not anticipated. He rightly judged that the worst was yet to come. The condition of the French army after the battle of Borodino, was in the highest degree unfortunate and dis. RESOLUTION TO BURN MOSCOW. 273 coura^g. For miles on both sides along the road to Moscow, the retreating Russians had devastated the country, had burned the houses, destroyed the provisions, and rendered it almost impossible for the invaders to pro- cure means of subsistence. Thousands of horses perished from hunger. ISTor was the want of food the only disas- ter which befel them. The French army had nearly ex- hausted their amunition, and had barely enough remain- ing to suffice for one more battle. At Borodino they had expended ninety-one thousand cannon shot ; and not an equal quantity remained in the possession of the invaders. The soldiers were compelled to the necessity of subsisting almost entirely on the flesh of horses. So reduced indeed had they become after the battle of Borodino, and during the subsequent march toward Moscow, that had the Rus- sians been acquainted with the real condition of their foe, they would not have sacrificed that ancient capital, but would have hazarded another great battle, in which it is very probable they would have gained a decisive victory. But ignorant as they were of these facts, the Russian generals in a council of war, adopted the wisest, and at the same time, the most extraordinary resolution not to venture another great conflict, nor yet to attempt the de- fense of Moscow; but to abandon the capital to the French, set fire to its myriad houses, and thus, between the lurid flames of the immense conflagration, and the in- tensity of the approaching winter's cold, to vanquish a foe who seemed invincible by any ordinary resistance or resources. Count Rostopchin, who was then governor of Moscow, acquiesced in the stem purpose, and was the first to pro- L* 18 274 FIRST VIEW OF MOSCOW. claim and commend it to the astonished inhabitants. With a degree of self-sacrificing patriotism which has no parallel in the history of nations, the inhabitants of Mos- cow immediately obeyed the mandate ; and three hun- dred thousand people at once began to travel forth by the eastei'n gates leaving behind them theii- splendid pal- aces, their valuable merchandize, and the accumulated wealth and rare treasures of ages, to become the prey of the devouring element. In three days the city was en- tirely deserted except by a few hundreds of the lowest and most abandoned of the inhabitants. It was at eleven o'clock on the 14th of September, 1812, when the advanced guard of the French army, under Mu- rat, reached the heights on the Smolensko road, from which the first view of Moscow could be obtained. There, reposing with stately magnificence in the plain be- low them, appeared the celebrated city, whose gilded spires and temples of mingled Asiatic and European architecture, proudly pierced the heavens, and seemed to herald the entrance of the invaders \vithlii the precincts of another continent, and proclaim their sudden advent into the gorgeous portals of the east. As far ;i3 the eye could reach the plain was covered witli a lieterogeneous varie- ty of palaces, churches, gardens, rivers, public and private edifices, and the innumerable dwellings of the various classes, all basking in silent and stately loveliness, in the mellowed rays of an autumnal sun. As the different divisions of the French army reached the eminence from which this view first greeted their gaze, their enthusiasm burst forth in shouts of frenzied triumph ; and the words " Moscow ! Moscow ! " rever- NAPOLEON'S ENTRANCE INTO MOSCOW. 275 berated over the waste, as tlie sound was taken up and repeated by the enthusiastic French, fi-om rank to rank. The excitement even reached Napoleon himself. , He hastened forward to obtain a view of that gorgeous prize for which he had already risked and endured so much. He gazed for some moments in silence at the city, and then exclaimed : " Behold ! at last there is Moscow," and after a pause he added wdth a sigh — " It was high time ! " jSTapoleon delayed a day in the expectation that a depu- tation of the magistrates would wait upon him, and deliver the keys of the city into his hands. He waited in vain. Disgusted at their apparent ignorance or indifference, he gave the order to advance, and his legions approached and entered the gates of Moscow. As he rode along the streets the sight of the antique towers, and the Tartaric style of architecture which characterized the palaces and temples, charmed and delighted him ; and his admira- tion was raised to the highest pitch when he approached the Kremlin. This was a vast assemblage of palaces, a city within itself, partaking also somewhat of the charac- ter of a fortress ; for it was defended by walls and tow- ers, containing loop-holes and embrasures for the use of cannon. This stupendous and irregular pile of palaces and churches had for ages been the home and the burying place of Muscovite kings ; and Napoleon's imagination was powerfully impressed with the thought that he had at length added this vast trophy of barbaric pomp and oriental splendor, to the long list of his other conquests. He had dreamed in his youth of an expedition to the farther east, by which he would dethrone some Persian or Arabian monarch and assume his scepter. That dream 21Q APPEARANCE OF MOSCOW. had never been realized. His expedition to Egypt had been but a partial and feeble substitute for it. But now, as the peerless Moscow lay unresistmg at his feet, he seemed once more to approach nearer to the Uteral ful- fillment of his youthful hope. Napoleon had reached the Kremlin before he became aware of the appalling fact that he had entered a deserted city. No Hving creature appeared except his own soldiers, either to welcome or to oppose his entrance. At length he became fully aware of the real fact in the case, and he gave utterance to his astonishment and in- dignation in unmeasured terms of execration. No depu- tation of magistrates or nobles Waited on him, humbly tendering him the keys of the city. No joyous popula- tion greeted him as their deliverer from antiquated tyr- anny. No smiling princesses hailed him as- the modern Alexander, carrying his conquests toward the confines of the east ; or lavished such compliments on him as beauty alone can bestow on the heroic and the illustrious. He was surrounded by an unbroken silence, the suspicious silence and soUtude of a city of the dead. At length Napoleon entered the Kremlin, and established his head quarters in its gilded halls. During one night, the night of the 14th of September, Napoleon slept in peace in his newly found home. His officers and soldiers freely pillaged the unoccupied palaces which had been deserted by their owners. Tumultuous riot and revelry, such as only attend in the pathway of conquest, prevailed throughout the vast city, thus sud- denly deprived of its legitimate owners. In entering many of the palaces, the French soldiers found the richly NAPOLEON'S. FIRST NIGHT IN MOSCOW. 277 furnished apartments with all their valuable contents of art, and furniture, and plate, precisely as their proprietors usually disposed of them. No attempt had been made at concealment or protection. Napoleon slept that night at least in peace. The extraordinary exertions which he had recently undergone, at length overpowered his physical fi.-ame, and nature gave way beneath them. He dreamed, as he reposed under the gorgeous hangings of the royal couch of Alexander, the absent czar ; and his thoughts wandered far away over a thousand hills and vales, to the spot which contained his beloved wife, and idolized child, the king of Rome. His faithful attendants during the night saw a smile playing upon his lips, and heard the name of his fair son uttered in tones of deepest tenderness. It was a pleasing dream, a sweet illusion ; from the gentle spell of which the stern conqueror was soon to wake to behold scenes of horror and dismay, unparalleled even in his memorable career of peril, vicissitude, and suffering. On the 15th of September a fire first appeared in the Bazaar, which rapidly extended until a considerable por- tion of the surrounding city was in flames. A large part of the French army was at that moment so intoxicated by the wines and liquors which they found in the cellars of the deserted palaces, that they could afford no effectual resistance to the progress of the flames. The conflagra- tion continued to rage with terrific fury, and unseen hands carried the torch of destruction in a hundred secret places, thus adding -to its extent, and to the diflSculty of subject- ing it to control. Durmg the night of the 15th, and dur- ing the whole of the 16th, 17tb, and 18th of September, the fury < if the flames increased, until at length the whole 278 MOSCOW IN FLAMES. city seemed enveloped in one vast conflagration, -which filled the entire horizon, and gradually approached nearer and nearer to the Kremlin. At night the spectacle was terrific and sublime, far be- yond the power of language to depict. A brighter light chan that of the noonday sun banished darkness from the earth for many miles around. Immense palaces, temples, tapering and lofty spires, enveloped in flames, fell with a tremendous crash which shook the ground. Loud explo- sions of combustible materials continually occurred, which seemed like the report of an unseen battle. Float- ing fragments of burning material were wafted by the fitful winds through the midnight heavens, carrying de- struction where the hands of the secret incendiary could not reach. At length on the 19th, the KremUn itself took fire, and the mighty but humbled conqueror of a hundred battles, was compelled to evacuate a conquest in which he took so great a pride, and for the attainment of which he had made such immense sacrifices. So general had the conflagration by this time become, that it was with great difliculty, and amid imminent peril, that Nar poleon and his suite could pass through the burning streets on their way to the gates. He arrived however, at length, at Petrowsky, a palace situated several miles from Moscow, and from this retreat the bafiied invader liad leisure to contemplate the unparalleled circumstances of disappointment, disaster, and danger, which at that moment surrounded him. As he gazed from the hot win- dows of this palace at the tumultuous ocean of fire and flame which extended for miles along the horizon before him. Napoleon is said to have exclaimed : " This sad NAPOLEON IN THE KREMLIN. 279 event is the presage of a long train of disasters ! " Nor did his usual sagacity desert him in making this predic- tion, as the sequel abundantly proved. By the 20th of September the fire had exhausted itself. Moscow was in ruins. But by some strange good fortune the Kremlin had in a great measure escaped destruction ; and Napoleon after an absence of several days, returned to it again. The place seemed to have exercised a strange fascination over his mind. There was to him an inde- scribable rapture in dating decrees from the Kremlin, which were to be obeyed alike at Paris, at Naples, at Madrid, and at Vienna. This fascination he seemed al- most unable to resist. He therefore very unwisely spent four weeks in this romantic abod5 ; during which time the season advanced, and the horrors of winter rapidly approached. It seems that the policy which the Russian monarch had determined to adopt, consisted of two points. The first was to amuse and delay Napoleon by appearances of negotiation, though never actually to enter into any serious arrangements with him. By this means the retreat of the French would be delayed until winter set in. The other point was to satiate the deadly vengeance which the Russian army had sworn to execute on the ruthless invaders of their country, by collecting immense armies for the purpose of intercepting the French on their retreat, and destroying tliem by the combined force of the winter's fury, and the ceaseless and relentless attacks of the troops of the czar. By the treaties which Alexan- der had recently concluded with the Turks and the king of Sweden, two immense armies, each fifty thousand 280 NAPOLEON'S EFFORTS TO NEGOTIATE. strong, were I'eleased from their services on the northern and southern frontiers of the empire ; and were at liberty to march at once upon the line of the retreat of the French army. With these, Witgenstein was hastening from the north toward Polotsk ; and Tchichagoff was rapidly approaching Borissow from the south. Other armies, under Kutusoff and Barclay de [Tolly — the heroic veterans of Smolensko and Borodino — were passing by a rapid circuitous route in front of the French line of re- treat, preparing to intercept them. Meanwhile, at the Kremlin, Napoleon had made sev- eral overtures to the czar, for the purpose of inducing him to treat. They were all in vain. At length, driven to desperation, he dispatched a private letter to Alexan- der, couched in terms of personal friendship and regard ; in which he touchingly referred to their former intimacy, and urged him for the sake of their suffering armies and subjects to agree to negotiate. To this letter, also, he re- ceived no answer whatever. At length, on the 13th of October, the first snow fell; and the sleeping and imprisoned giant was suddenly aroused from his delusive dreams. At the same moment that he received this monition from the great voice of Na- ture, the news reached him of the fall of Madrid ; of the entry of the Englisn army into that capital ; and of the deposition and flight of his brother Joseph. Cursing the evil destiny which seemed to attend him. Napoleon at length gave orders to prepare for the retreat, and on the 15th of the month the veterans of Napoleon, who a short month before had first beheld the capital of the czars with such exulting and triumphant joy, now turned their THE RETREAT BEGJN& 281 backs in sullen gloom from the spot where Moscow once had stood te stately splendor ; and commenced that mem- orable retreat, surrounded by such unparalleled horrors, which so few of them were ever destined to terminate within the confines of their native land. The first moment of Napoleon's march was the signal for the commencement of active hostihties on the part of the alert generals and armies of the czar. The retreating troops were encumbered with the richest spoils of Mos- cow. They carried away with them an immense quantity of gold and silver plate, sumptuous and rich apparel, sUks, embroideries, valuable pictures, and other rare works of art of inestimable value. Common soldiers might be seen overloaded with articles of Asiatic luxury and barbaric splendor. Beasts of burden groaned beneath the weight of plrmdered treasures from a hundred magnificent pala- ces. Among the rest, by Napoleon's express orders, the great cross of St. Ivan was borne along as his own par- ticular trophy of conquest, together with the standards of eastern chmes — of Turkey, of Persia, and Chiaa, which had been won by Russian prowess in many a far-distant and bloody field. When the retreat began, the fair weather which soon returned, the rich spoils which the soldiers bore, and tlje gay revelry of the forty thousand camp-followers who at- tended them, among whom were many young Russian women, who had been seduced by the wiles of the pleas- ing invaders to embrace the opportunity to retui-n with them to Paris — gave the march the joyful air of a triumph- ant procession. But soon the whole aspect of affairs was changed, and sadly changed, for the worse. 282 PLANS OF THE RUSSIANS. Meanwhile, Kutusoff was hastening with one hundred thousand men, and seven hundred pieces of «annon, to- v»-ard the town of Wiazma, at which point the Russian commander determined to inflict the first great blow upon the army of the invader. A long journey of seven hundred miles lay before his retreating soldiers in the midst of a hostile and barren country ; and it was time to commence the terrific task of crushing and obhterating the host of wearied and overburdened soldiersirom whose standards victory had fled. On the second of November, Platoff, with ten thousand Cossacks, made a furious onslaught on the rear of the army. The whole body of Russian cavalry under Was- siltchikoff attacked the main line of the French retreat, and established themselves on both sides of the Smolensko road, along which the fine of retreat lay. The rear guard of Davoust fled before the desultory but furious attack of the Cossacks. The vanguard of the Russians under Ku- tusoff commenced a cannonade on the corps of Ney ; and the division of General Paskiewitz attacked the center of the French posted in the town of Wiazma, and drove them through the streets at the point ot the bayonet. During this engagement the French lost six thousand men. Before this battle the corps of Davoust alone had lost ten thousand men by fatigue and desertion ; and the whole French army had been reduced in proportion. Nor poleon had again been vanquished, and as a natural con- sequence, despondency and a growing disregard for dis- cipline and order pervaded the feelings and marked the conduct of the retreating troops. It was on the 6th of November that the snow began to THE WINTER COMMENCES. 283 fall, and the rigors of a Russian winter to commence ; and from this date commenced the real horrors and unpar- alleled disasters of the retreat. With the falling snow the wind began to be high and furious, and soon immense drifts obstructed the roads, and rendered it difficult for the wearied and burdened troops to advance. It was not until winter came, that the Russians displayed the real atrocities of the course of retribution which they had de- termined to inflict upon their invaders. Then it was that the fierce vengeance of the flying clouds of Cossacks be- gan to exhibit itself. Hanging on the outskirts of the wearied and straggling lines of French soldiers, by sud- den attacks they slew thousands singly and in small com- panies, as they struggled through the snow. At the same time hundreds fell upon the way exhausted by the labors of the march. The roads soon became impassable for the artillery, and hundreds of guns were left behind at the base of each rising hill. The soldiers soon became unable to transport their ammunition ; and frequent ex- plosions in the rear of their path, and on th« outskirts, in- dicated how frequently the ammunition wagons were sac- rificed rather than left to the possession of the pursuers.' And soon the road became strewed with the rich and stolen spoUs of Moscow, to which, till then, their captors had clung with the same tenacity as they clung to hfe ; even these, the immense toils and perils of the way com- pelled them to sacrifice. In one week's time after the commencement of the wintry weather, thirty thousand men had perished. The path of the retreating army was now marked by a long line of deserted cannon, of exploded wagons, andof fi-eex- 284 HORRORS OF THE RETREAT. ing and dying men and horses. So terrible had the des- titution already become, that many of the French soldiers rioted in horse flesh ; and even others, it is said, did not abstain from assuaging their horrid pangs by eating hu- man bodies. During the hours of darkness the.country became a howling wilderness. Far and wide over the snowy waste, no sign of human habitation, no sound of human sympathy was seen or heard. The driving snow- drifts threatened to bury the wearied soldiers beneath their cold embrace ; and when morning dawned, the frag- ments of the bivouack-fires were surrounded by circles of frozen bodies, which during the night had perished in si- lence as they lay, from the intensity of the cold. Napoleon who still remained with his fated army, con- centrated all his endeavors toward reaching Smolensko. At this place he had previously ordered immense stores of provisions to be collected, when on his forward march toward Moscow ; and he hoped that when his retreating troops reached this spot, he would be able to retrieve a large portion of the disasters of his defeat.- He therefore urged on his troops along the Smolensko road, sacrificing everything which impeded their advance. By this time nearly the whole of his baggage and artillery had been left behind ; and he now even ordered the great cross of St. Ivan, which had adorned the loftiest pinnacle of the Kremhn, and the Turkish and Persian standards, to be sunken in the waters of an adjoinuig lake. During all this time the attacks on his troops by the relentless Cos- sacks continued uninterrupted. Kutusoff with an im- mense army still hovered around his rear, waiting for a NAPOLEON AT SMOLENSK©. 285 propitious opportunity and favorable ground to bring the exhausted French to another general engagement. At length, on the 9th of November, Napoleon arrived at Smolensk©. The lofty towers and gUded domes of its cathedral, again greeted the eyes of his wearied and fam- ished troops, who, by this time, had been diminished by one half, from the mighty armament which, on the ad- vance toward Moscow, had beheld them. Here from the 9th to the 13th they reposed; and Napoleon put forth prodigious exertions to recruit his shattered forces. His cavalry, which numbered forty thousand men when they first crossed the Niemen, had now been reduced to the pitiful sum of eight hundred ; and of aU his vast arma- ment with which he entered Russia of five hundred thou- sand men, but seventy thousand now remained, of whom forty thousand alone were efiective troops. On the 14th of November the French army resumed its mournful retreat. The emperor, with the old and new guard, came first. Next came the division of the viceroy Eugene. Then followed Davoust with the main body of the army ; while Ney still continued to conduct the rear. On the I'Zth of November the Russian general Kutusoff was enabled to bring the French emperor to another gen- eral engagement at Krasnoi. His host of wearied sol- diers still continued to waste away by hundreds daily ; and a stronger hope of a complete triumph now encouraged the mind of Kutusoff, in making another combined attack upon his enemy. Piince Gahtzin, with the Russian center, furiously attacked the Young Guard, and succeeded in achieving a result which had never before been accom- plished. Sorely pressed on all sides, the guard had 286 DAVOUST AND THE COSSACKS. formed into squares, and one of these squares Galitzin broke, and absolutely destroyed. Davoust's division was enveloped by an immense cloud of Cossacks, who attacked his division with their accustomed fury, and threw it into confusion. The Russians carried by assault the village of Krasnoi where Napoleon was posted, and compelled him to retire. At the close of the conflict, the ha- rassed, exhausted, and perishing army of the invader had lost six thousand prisoners, forty-five pieces of cannon, two imperial standards, an immense quantity of baggage, and the private archives of Napoleon. There was a spectacle exhibited during this retreat, comically unique, and yet terrible in its character, which no other warlike movements have ever displayed. For many leagues the whole division of Davoust, now reduced to five thousandmen out of seventy thousand, pursued their slow and tedious march completely enveloped on all sides by clouds of flying Cossacks, who kept even pace with their march, and constantly harassed them with their ex- hausting and desultory attacks. At length, on the 23d of November, the French army reached the banks of the Beresina. The bridge which crossed this river had been destroyed by Tchichagofi", who had advanced from the south ; and this calamity compelled Napoleon to construct another for the passage of his troops. He immediately commanded his engineers to commence the task. A corps of sappers threw them- selves into the river up to their necks in the swelUng flood, and heroically labored to accomplish the herculean task. The cavalry were commanded to swim over the stream while the process of construction was advancing. PASSAGE OF THE BERESINA. 287 At length the bridge was sufficiently finished for the in- fantry to pass over. The passage began and continued during the 25th, and 26th, and amid attacks of the Rus- sians on both sides of the river, the French army suc- ceeded with immense difficulty in reaching the opposite bank, with the exception of the division of General Par- tonneaux, composed of seven thousand men, who were surrounded by the everlasting Cossacks under Platoff, and at length compelled to surrender themselves prison- ers of war. It was during the passage of the rear division of Mar- shal Victor over the bridge, that one of the most terri- ble scenes ever witnessed, was presented to view. The Russian artillery under Diebitch was brought to bear directly upon the bridge, ladened with the retreating multitude. A wide semi-circle of cannon swept the whole line of the bridge, with a deluge of fiery shot and sheU, carrying death and dismay into the tumultuous crowd, from whose ranks all discipline had long been banished. Terror seemed to fill every mind, and a maddened rush forward to escape impending ruin was seen on all sides. Hundreds were trampled to death beneath the feet of their comrades. The cannon of the Russians ploughed through and through the thick masses of living flesh. Heaps of the dead and dying were piled on the bridge, and began to impede the passage. At this crisis, the cannon balls broke the bridge in the center, and set the two extremities on fire. A scene of horror then ensued which beggars all language. The frantic crowd were com- pelled to plunge into the half-frozen flood below, and swim for their lives. Thousands of men, women, and 288 NAPOLEON DESERTS HIS ARMY horses perished, trampled to death by the struggling multitude, or drowned by the waters of the stream. When the ice dissolved in the ensuing spring, twelve thou- sand dead bodies were found — the victims of this horrid and memorable passage. At length, on the 5th of December, Napoleon arrived with the wrecks of his army at Smorgoni. Here he dic- tated his celebrated 29th bulletin, in which, for the first time, he proclaimed the real horrors of his condition and losses. He placed the supreme command in the hands of Murat, and set off with Oaulaincourt and Loban, at ten o'clock at night for, Paris. He had received news of Mal- let's conspiracy in the French capital, and he determined to leave his unfortunate army to their impending doom, and make good his own escape beyond the Russian terri- tory. He traveled in a small britschka, placed on low runners, made out of rude fir wood. He journeyed night and day with his two companions, closely wrapped up in heavy furs. Silently and gloomily the fallen monarch traversed, as rapidly as his wearied horses could draw him, the im- mense and cheerless plains of Poland. How singular must have been his reflections during this sad journey! His insatiable ambition had at length been foiled in its audacious attempt to grasp the scepter of universal sovereignty. He had been the cause of the ruin of a million of his fellow creatures, and the curses loud and deep of myriads of bereaved widows and orphans, over the whole continent, rang in his ears, as the just knell of future and inevitable retribution. Did he care for or feel the ponderous weight of all these curses ? It is RESULTS OF THE EXPEDITION. 289 doubtful ! Ambition, -vvlien it becomes insatiable, be- comes also lost to every dictate of reason, humanity, and justice ; and it is probable that in the dark breast of this great, bad man, the only prevalent feeling was chagrin at his own discomfiture, and apprehension as to the future evils which impended over him. Deserted by their emperor, the French army still con- tinued its retreat ; and finally arrived at the banks of the Niemen, the confines of the Russian territory, on the 12th of December. Out of that vast and imposing armament of five hundred thousand men, which in the preceding June had crossed that river, glittering in all the pride, pomp, and majesty of war, twenty thousand enfeebled and exhausted specters alone tottered over it on their return ! All the rest had perished, or had been captured during the progress of this memorable expedition — as sacrifices offered upon the altar of the insatiable ambition of one bold and unprincipled but gifted adventurer. In reflecting on this picture of ruin and unparalleled woe, it is difiicult to convey any adequate idea of the real im- portance and magnitude of the events involved in it. From the day the French army crossed the Niemen till that of its return to its shores, one hundred and twenty- five thousand men had been slain in battle ; one hundred and thirty-two thousand had perished of cold, famine, and fatigue ; one hundred and ninety thousand had been taken prisoners and subjected afterward to all the horrors of Siberian captivity. In addition to these it should be re- membered, that in the various battles fought with the Russians, the latter had also lost an immense number of men. It is computed that the killed and wounded in the M 19 290 NAPOLEON REACHES PARIS. Russian armies amounted at least to one hundred and fifty thousand men during the six months of Napoleon's mvasion. What a stupendous and incalculable amount of suifering had this one single darmg and prodigious ven- ture of Napoleon, inflicted on a mourning, weeping, and agonizing continent ! At length, on the 20th of December, 1812, Napoleon reached Paris. He arrived unheralded, at midnight. His first care was to convict and punish Mallet and his confederates, who had dared, in his absence, to menace the security of his throne. Soon the pitifUl remains of his once "grand army" began to arrive at the French capital ; and by their diminished numbers and frightful appearance of suflfering and miseiy, opened the eyes of the astonished Parisians to the full extent of the horrors and losses of the expedition. The mighty genius of Napoleon never recovered from the disastrous effects of this memorable campaign. An outraged continent soon assembled its armies on the con- fines of France, determined by one prodigious effort to destroy forever the power of the great curse of modern times. Closer and closer the lines were drawn around the hunted Hon, by his determined pursuers ; and his pro- digious bounds failed to extricate him from their gather- ing toils. At last, at Leii^sic, the memorable battle was fought — fitly called " the battle of the nations " — at which Europe concentrated her energies at one mighty blow to crush the coimnon foe, and the relentless oppressor of all. Yet, amid these continued disasters, the amazing genius of this extraordinary man remained undismayed. Yielding for the time being to the necessity laid upon him by the NAPOLEON AT ELBA. 291 voice of destiny, he accepted with a good grace the proft fered toy of Elba's diminutive diadem, and retired thither to rest for an interval from his labors ; and then once more to come forth and convulse the continent anew mth his restless energy and ambition — to enact the memorable drama of Waterloo, and the Hundred Days ! CHAPTER XII. NAPOLEON DCTRING THE HUNDEED DATS. The most brilliant assemblage of beauty, celebrity, and fashion, which ever graced a capital with theu* courtly presence, was the European congress which convened in Vienna in 1815. It was then ing under his orders, toward Belgium. Other grand divisions of the army under Souchet and Rapp, were posted in La Vendee, Marseilles and Bordeaux, to 312 HIS ADDRESS TO THE TROOPS. overawe the royalists. The fate of Europe depended solely on the great central army under the command of Napoleon himself. On the 13th of June, the great Corsican joined his camp for the last time. It was situated then at Avesnes, between the Sambre and Philipville, and the returns which were immediately brought him, reported one hun- dred and twenty-two thousand men then actually present under arms. The arrival of Napoleon filled this vast armament with the utmost enthusiasm; which was in- creased, if possible, by the proclamation which he issued to his troops. Said he : " Soldiers ! this is the anniver- sary of Marengo and Friedland, of Austerlitz and Wag- ram. If oar enemies dare to enter France they will find in it their tomb. Soldiers ! we have forced marches to make, battles to fight, perils to encounter. But with con- stancy, the victory wiU be ours. For every Frenchman who has a heart within him, now is the time to conquer or to die ! " Once more, and for the last time, the en- thusiastic courage, the haughty and confident resolution to triumph, which had characterized the veteran armies, both of the empire, and the consulate, and had rendered them the most formidable warriors that ever marched to battle and to victory ; that calm yet heroic spirit was again displayed and felt by those who were now about to con- tend in mortal- conflict for the future supremacy of Eu- rope, under the most able and illustrious of generals. But it was foi- the last time ; and never more was that same spirit destined to pervade a great army, or to cheer a mighty general on to certain triumph. On the 15th of June, the Prussian army under BlticheT THE COMBATANTS APPROACH EACH OTHER, 313 retired on the approach of the French from Charleroi to Fleurus. It was now the chief purpose of Napoleon ef- fectively to separate the British and Prussian forces, and to attack and vanquish them in detail. He sent Mar- shal Ney, with a detachment of forty-six thousand men to Quartre-Bras, situated on the road to Brussels. At the same time Napoleon marched with seventy-two thou- sand men toward Fleurus, for the purpose of falling on the Prussians. Blticher retreated from Fleurus to Ligny ; and at Ligny the Prussians and French heroes engaged in the first of the three great battles which marked the memorable era of the hundred days, The position taken by Bliicher at Ligny was strong and well chosen. Villages in front of him afforded ex- cellent shelter to his troops, while his artillery, arranged on the summit of a vast semi-circular hill, swept the whole line of the French. At that moment eighty thou- sand men, among whom were twelve thousand cavalry, marched under the black eagles of Prussia. The large detachment sent under Ney to check the English had weakened Napoleon considerably, and his troops then numbered but seventy-two thousand. The duke of Wel- lington, deceived by false intelligence which he had re- ceived from the traitor Fouche — a traitor to Bonaparte, and to WeUington, both to his country and to his coun- try's foes — was quite unconscious, even until the morn- ing of the 15th of June, that the French army was so near, or that the great struggle impended so soon. Wel- lington was then at Brussels. Having given orders that all the British troops should immediately assemble at Quartre-Bras, he gaily dressed himself and attended a ball N 314 THE BALL AT BRUSSELS. at the palace of the Duchess of Richmond. The assem- blage was brilliant in the extreme. The beauty, chivalry, and fashion of Belgium had congregated in those stately halls ; while the most distinguished soldiers and gener- als of the British and allied armies graced the scene with their courtly presence. That company of fair women and brave men presented a singular spectacle. The Ucense of continental manners, the stirring excitement of the tremendous crisis which then existed, the uncertainty of the future, all gave unusual romance to the occasion. Burning words of love and affection were uttered then, which were the more ardent and intense because the im- pending probabilities of the future rendered their realiza- tion so insecure. Many attachments had been formed between the young British officers who had been star tioned for some months in Belgium, and the blooming beauties of that land of gorgeous tulips ; and now the period had arrived when these proffered contracts of un- realized felicity were soon either to be forever broken by death, or to be happily consummated. Sweet, volup- tuous music floated on the midnight air ; and many grace- ful forms then moved in harmony with bewitching melo- dies, which were destined never again to be heard by theml "Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell." That brilliant and chivalrous company were uncon- sciously treading on a sleeping volcano. A sudden sound was heard which struck terror into every heart and blanched the rosiest cheek. It was the distant booming of the cannon which proclaimed the unexpected approach THE BATTLE OF LIGNT. 315 of the French, and the commencement of the great cor. flict. The lion Avhom all Europe dreaded, with one pro- digious bound had suddenly leaped among the gay and unsuspecting crowd, spreading the utmost terror and dis- may. How truly says the matchless poet : "Ah I then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness: And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated ; who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise ? "And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed, The mustering squadron, and the clattering car, "Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war ; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar ; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star ; While throng'd the citizens with terror dumb. Or whispering, with white lips — 'The foe! They come! they come ! ' "* The battle of Ligny began by a furious attack of Na- poleon on the Prussian right, which was soon driven back with immense slaughter. Blilcher quickly sent large detachments to the aid of the assailed point, and thereby sensibly weakened his center. This was pre- cisely what Napoleon had desired and anticipated. He commanded his own center, thirty thousand strong, to cross the stream! :t of Ligny, and attack the Prussians. * Childe Harold, Canto III., xxiv, xxv. 316 DOUBTFUL NATURE OF THE CONFLICT. Then the conflict became bloody and ftirious beyond de- scription, and prodigious exertions were naade on both sides. Three times the impetuous assaults of the French took the village of Ligny from the Prussians ; and three times were they driven back again by the desperate ex- ertions of the assailed. The Prussians returned to the charge again and again. The combatants fought fiercely hand to hand. Two hundred pieces of artillery thun- dered into the opposing masses. The houses and streets of the village were filled with multitudes of the dying and the dead ; and yet by seven o'clock, after three hours' conflict, the battle remained undecided and one half of the position continued in the possession of the Prussians, and the other half in the possession of the French, The final issue of the combat would have been doubt- ful ; but at that moment a large detachment from the army of Ney arrived on the field and rendered efiectual assistance to Napoleon. He then immediately ordered his old guard to advance to the attack. At the same mo- ment all his artOlery were arrayed in the front line. The dense columns of the imperial guard moved forward with steady tread ; and in concert with the artillery commenced a charge of prodigious fury upon the opposing masses. Twenty squadrons of cuirassiers, under the command of D'Erlon, also followed up the attack. The Prussian cen- ter after a short resistance v/as completely crushed under the tremendous weight and fury of this great onslaught ; and commenced to waver, to fall back, and eventually to retreat. Marshal Bliicher fought to the last with the fury of a lion. During the retreat he repeatedly charged the pursuing French, But his horse was shot under him ; he LAST VICTORY OF NAPOLEON. 317 feil, and both the Prussian and French cavahy passed over the prostrate body of the marshal, while he lay on the ground entangled beneath his dying horse. The vic- tory of Napoleon was at length complete. His loss was six thousand eight hundred men. That of the Prussians was fifteen thousand men and twenty-one pieces of artillery. It is worthy of remark that the battle of Ligny was the last in which the aspiring eagles of Napoleon were triumph- ant. This was the last victory which he was destined -ever to achieve, whose exploits in many lands, for so many years, had elicited such intense admiration through- out the whole world. On that day the inconstant god- dess forever deserted the standards of him whom man- kind had once not unaptly termed the favorite child of victory. While Napoleon was combatting the Prussians at Ligny, Marshal Ney was assailing the English army at Quartre-Bras. The French numbered forty-six thousand men, with a hundred and sixteen cannon. Only the half of this force however was engaged at Quartre-Bras, in consequence of the immense detachment sent by Ney, un- der General D'Erlon to the aid of Napoleon at Ligny. At the beginning of the conflict the Belgian troops were completely overthrown. But the divisions of Picton and the Duke of Brunswick arrived at that critical moment ; and the conflict than began in earnest. There were about twentj' thousand men engaged on each side. The French cuirassiers charged iipon the Enghsh infantry with the utmost ferocity. The artillery of the French ploughed through and through the dense squares into which the 818 THE BATTLE OF QUARTRE-BRAS. English had been formed. But the steadiness and hero- ism of the latter remained unshaken ; and thus the issue seemed again doubtful between such desperate fortitude on both sides, when the arrival of "Wellington on the field with a reinforcement often thousand men, at once changed the aspect of aifairs. The battle was still continued with increased fury, but the repeated and desj^erate charges of the French were as often effectively repulsed, and with immense losses. The day waned and night approached. In vain Marshal Ney put forth his utmost exertions. The greater numbers, the steadiness, and the resolution of the allies, were too much even for the " bravest of the brave." When night fell the battle ceased. The allies were tri- umphant, and the exhausted troops of the French mar- shal retired to Frasnes, a mile from the field of battle. The allies slept that night upon the ensanguined plain, and their victory was complete. The French lost four thousand men, the alUes lost five thousand ; but this un- usual disijroportion between the conquerors and the con- quered resulted from the immense number of French artillery. All these minor engagements were only preparatory to the greater conflict which was to occur, and which was to be decisive and final in its effects. During the l7th of June the English and French armies were busily converg- ing toward the memorable plain of Waterloo. The day was wet. The water fell in torrents, and the roads were almost impassable. Shivering and dripping with the rain, those vast multitudes silently took up their appointed positions on the field of battle ; and at night they laid down to rest in deep mud and large pools of water. IMPORTANCE OF THE CRISIS. 319 Few even of the bravest slept during the solemn hours of that night. The awtul grandeur and importance of the event which was to ensue on the succeeding day im- pressed even the most thoughtless. To that spot then were directed the hopes and fears of the whole of Europe. Never before, since the beginning of time, had men con- tended for stakes of such prodigious magjiitude. Upon the uncertain issue of the coming battle depended the fate of that mighty hero whose achievements had far transcended the achievements of all other men. A conflict was about to be fought more decisive and important than that of Marathon, of Pharsalia, of Cannae, or of Blenheim. The destiny of a greater conqueror than either Miltiades, Caesar, Hannibal, or Marlborough, then hung trembling in the doubtful balance. And now for the first time, the two ablest generals of that age were about to measure their swords together, and the future fate of each entirely depended on the issue. If the British were defeated, re- treat even from the battle-field would be impossible. The dense forest of Soignies in their rear would cut off every possibility of escape. If Napoleon was vanquished, his fortunes were ruined forever, and he would become thenceforth either a captive or a fugitive on the earth. And those who were about to engage in this great strug- gle were fully conscious of the supreme importance of the occasion. At length the heavy hours of night wore away. The busy sounds of hurried preparation, the confused and multitudinous hum which betokened the near presence of mighty armaments, and which had echoed from both camps during the night, gradually ceased. The morning 320 THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. of the eighteenth of June, 1815, dawned upon the world, and with the light there came that hour pregnant with the fate of so many mUlions of human beings ; the hour to which the events of preceding centuries had long converged ; the hour to which many ages yet to come will point as the great decisive epoch which moulded the fate of a continent, and even of mankind. The last grand act in the stupendous drama of Napoleon's career was now about to commence, ere the curtain fell upon it forever. When the day dawned a hundred and seventy-five thou- sand men sprang from their dripping beds, and arrayed themselves for the last time for the shock and the carnage of battle. Soon the various regiments of both armies be- gan to deploy into their assigned positions. The battle- field extended two miles in length from the chateau of Hugoumont on the extreme right, to that of La Haye Sainte on the left. Through the center of this line the great high road or ohaussee from Brussels to Charleroi passed, nearly a mile from the village of Waterloo. Both armies were arrayed on the crest of gentle eminences somewhat semi-circular in form, and parallel to each other, between which a natural slope or glacis intervened. The two armies presented a magnificent appearance. The French numbered eighty thousand, the English and Bel- gians seventy-two thousand. Like huge serpents the long, dark masses wound around the eminences to the thrilling somid of martial music, and gradually formed into line. Napoleon had two hundred and fifty cannon; the English a hundred and fifty-six. The French troops were formed in three lines, each flanked by dense masses ITS COMMEKCEMENT. 321 of cavalry. Their brilliant uniforms and dazzling arms presented a gorgeous and imposing spectacle. The Eng- lish troops were drawn up for the most part in solid squares, supported by cavalry in the rear. In front of their whole position their artillery were skilfully arrayed, directly facing the formidable number of guns displayed by the French. Appearances were certainly in favor of Napoleon before the battle began, both as to the number, the equipment, and the arrangement of his troops. On that great day, each of the opposing commanders had ex- erted his utmost skill, and had exhausted the whole mili- tary art, in the disposition of theii* respective armies, so as to increase their effectiveness to the fullest degree. Just as the village clock at NiveUes struck eleven, Na- poleon gave the order to commence the combat from the center of his lines. The column of Jerome, six thousand strong, first attacked the English posted in the chateau of Hugoumont. A vigorous contest here took place which resulted in the dislodgment of the English troops, and the conflagration of the edifice. This conflict how- ever was only intended by Napoleon to conceal the main point of attack, which was in the right center. The can- nonade had now become general along the whole line. Ney was ordered to attack the British stationed along the hedge, and in the chateau of La Haye Sainte. This was the strongest position held by Wellington. As soon as the latter perceived the large masses of troops which were marching against this portion of his line, he drew up the splendid and powerful regiment of the Scotch Greys, the Enniskillers, and the Queen's Bays in its support. The French columns steadily pressed up the slope till N* 21 322 INCIDENTS OF THE CONFLICT. within twenty yards of the British guns. Here a furious conflict ensued. The heroic Picton fell at the head of his regiment as he waved forward his troops with his sword. The Scotch Greys attacked their foes with pro- digious energy and effect. The French columns then wavered. The Scotch, shouting " Scotland forever," rushed on to the attack. They carried a battery of twenty guns ; charged the second line ; routed it ; and assailed the third. The third line of the French even be- gan to yield, when ISTapoleon, perceiving the greatness of the disaster, ordered MUhaud's cuirassiers to charge the advancing foe. In this collision the brave Ponsonby died a heroic death ; and so desperate was the conflict that the returning Scotch brought back with them scarcely a fifth part of their original number. As Napoleon gaZed from the eminence on which he stood while he surveyed the battle, at the splendid and effective charge of the brave Scotch cavalry he exclaimed : Ces terribles chevaux gris y comme Us travaillent! But before the Scotch had completed their charge, they had broken and dispersed a column of five thousand men; had taken two thousand prisoners; and had either captured or spiked eiprht}^ pieces of can- non, which comprised the whole of N ey's artillery. Undismayed by this disaster Napoleon ordered twenty thousand cuirassiers, under the command of Milhaud, to advance to the support of N; y in the center. Soon La Haye Sainte was taken. Au entire battalion of Hano- verian troops was almost destroyed by the French, but their liJe of conquest was terminated by Wellington or- dering up the Life Guards, the Royal Horse Guards, and the 1st Dragoon Guards to the defense. The advance of DESPERATE HEROISM OF THE COMBATANTS. 323 the French was then stopped ; but Napoleon being de termined to carry the important post of La Haye Sainte, brought up his whole body of light cavalry to the attack. Wellington still resisted these furious and repeated on- slaughts on his lines, by ordering up to their support his whole reserve, and the Belgian regiments which were stationed in the rear. Thus for three hours the uncertain conflict raged, throughout the whole length of the contending lines, with the most desperate fury. Prodigious acts of heroism were performed by many whose names have long since de- scended with them to their gory and forgotten graves, on that ensanguined field. The dead and dying lay piled in immense heaps, and the whole of the contending ar- mies were involved in the dense smoke and the thunder- ing uproar of battle. Neither appeared willing to yield. Both seemed determined to conquer or to perish. As evening approached Napoleon saw the necessity of com- bining his energies, and by one prodigious effort to carry the day. All along the line, two miles in length, the con- flict raged with terrific fury ; but it was now destined to become more furious, more deadly, more destructive still. Suddenly at half past four o'clock, a dark mass appeared in the distance, moving in the direction of Frischermont, It was a Prussian corps, sixteen thousand strong, who were hastening toward the scene of conflict. Napoleon immediately detached Lobun with seven thousand men to arrest their progress ; whUe he himself determined, at that critical moment to put into execution his last and great- est resource, the one which had rarely failed to win the victory to his standards, and to crush the most powerful, 324 THE CHARGE OF THE OLD GUARD. enthusiastic, and formidable foes. ' This was to bring for ward the grand attack of the Old Imperial Guard. It was this veteran corps which had decided the fate of Europe on many great battle fields. It was this corps which had made the best troops of Austria quail and flee at Friedland and Wagram ; which had broken the power of the Prussian columns at Jena and Lutzen ; which had overwhelmed the Russian lines at Borodino and Auster- litz. Napoleon himself now rode through the ranks of these grim and dauntless warriors, and harangued them with a few words of burning eloquence. He briefly told them that the fate of the day, his own fate, and the fate of France and Europe now depended upon themselves. Loud shouts of Vive PUJmpereur in reply echoed far and wide over the plain, and drowned for a moment, even the mighty thunder of the cannon. Napoleon accompanied his veteran heroes a considerable way down the slope on their advance ; and as each column defiled before him, he addressed them words of stirring eulogy and hope, which revived or increased their courage. They advanced to the final attack of the British center in two great mas- ses, one of which was led by Marshal Ney, the other by General Reille. Never before, in the memorable annals of wai-fare, had there been such a shock as that which took place when the Old Guards, having approached with solemn and steady tread within forty feet of the Enghsh lines, commenced with their ancient heroism and resolution the task of van- quishing their desperate and powerful foes. The very earth shook beneath that terrific shock. They were met by the English Foot Guards, and the 73d and 30th regi- THE IMPERIAL GUARD RECOIL. 326 ments, with a heroism equal to their own. , The eyes of all the combatants were turned toward the spot where that deadly conflict was taking place. Quicklj and -nith desperate energy all the most destructive evolutions of warfare were executed. The combatants seemed deter- mined each to conquer or to perish. Immortal deeds were then achieved, which find no superior in all the blood- stained annals of military glory and ambition. But Wel- lington had made admirable dispositions to meet this last grand attack of the Old Guard, which had also been an- ticipated. He had stationed his artillery so as completely to sweep theii- lines ; and as they approached near to his position, his batteries were immasked, and they poured into the advancing- host a prodigious storm of iron haU. The first lines of the Imperial Guards melted like frost- work as they came within range of the terrible guns ; and though those in the rear resolutely pressed on to the at- tack, they made no further advance. They stUl crumbled away. A dead mass of soldiers rose higher and higher above the earth ; but the head of the living column was nnable to approach nearer than before, to the object of their attack. At length the Imperial Guard recoiled. Napoleon who had intently watched their progress, turned deadly pale, when he witnessed their useless heroism and their slow and ignominious retreat. Soon the horrid cry was re- peated along the French lines : " Tout est pardue^ la Chiarde recuile!" and the enormous mass, broken and in confusion, fled in headlong retreat down the hill. At this instant the rest of the Prussian army under Bltlcher and Ziethen came within range of the field, and 326 ARRIVAL OF BLUCHER. opened a battery of a hundred guns upon the tumultu- ous masses of the French. It was now nearly eight o'clock. Soon the Prussians, thirty-six thousand in num- ber, reached the French lines, and commenced a furious attack upon the exhausted and disordered multitudes. At that moment the star of Napoleon's glory, after hav- ing for twenty years shone in unequaled splendor near the very zenith, trembled, flickered, and then descended in ominous gloom, never to rise again. In vain the des- perate and ruined adventurer strove to rally his discom- fited warriors. In vain he swept on his noble charger over the plain, recalling his faltering troops to return once more to the attack. Terror now pervaded every breast. The retreat became general ; and though Na- poleon exposed himself in the most dangerous positions, and seemed even to seek for death, in restoring courage and order, all were in vain ; and the ruin of his army, his fortunes, and his hopes, was complete and irremediable. At last exclaiming : " All is lost ! let us save ourselves ! " he turned his horse and fled from the field of battle. The Prussians pursued the helpless fugitives with a rancor which only the memory of the horrors of the battle of Jena, and the unequaled outrages then cooomitted by Napoleon on Prussia, could have excited. Multitudes of the retreating French were slain. The whole of Na- poleon's artillery fell into the hands of 'the pursuers. For miles the earth was completely covered with an innumer- able number of broken carriages, wagons, baggage, arms and wrecks of every kind. Forty thousand men only es- caped out of that vast and splendid armament of seventy- two thousand, who on the morning of that very day, full TOTAL DEFEAT OF NAPOLEON. 327 of martial pomp and pride, had marched under the French eagles. Nearly forty thousand had either fallen on the battle-field, were wounded, or were taken prisoners. The loss of the allies Avas sixteen thousand killed and ft'ounded. The loss of the Prussians in the battles on the 16th and 18th of June, amounted to thirty-three thousand. Thus ended in complete discomfiture all the prodigious vifforts of Napoleon, after his return from Elba, to regain Ms lost throne, and retrieve his fallen fortunes. He had exhausted the whole of France in making these prepara- tions, and now his case was hopeless. If previous to the battle of Waterloo, his heroism had been the heroism of desperation, mingled with hope ; it became now the hero- ism, if indeed it existed at all, of black and unmitigated despair. It remained to be seen whether, after such great reverses, the resolution even of Napoleon could undertake any other expedients to preserve his power, his freedom, or even his existence. The presence of Marshal Bltlcher at Waterloo, and the absence of Marshal Grouchy, were the decisive causes of the issue of that eventful day ; and the French marshal has been severely censured because of his supposed treachery or dereliction of duty. But these censures are AvhoUy imjust. In accordance with Napoleon'sown express orders, Grouchy went iu pursuit of the Prussian corps un- der Theilman at Wavres ; and although Grouchy dis- tinctly heard the cannonading at Waterloo from his own position, yet he did not dare to deviate in the least from the instructions which he had received from Napoleon himself. Even on the morning of the 18th Grouchy re- ceived a despatch from Soult ordering him still to con- 328 NAPOLEON'S RETURN TO PARIS. tinue the pursuit ; and this fact is clearly indicative of the confidence then entertained by Napoleon as to the certain issue of the impending conflict. Hence the exulting ex- clamation of Napoleon himself on the morning of the bat- tle of Waterloo, when he beheld the dense columns of the English thrown into squares, and posted in admirable array on those heights which were so soon to be dyed in blood and covered with mountains of the wounded and the slain — " I have these English before me at last. Nine chances out of ten are in our favor ! " When too late, Napoleon discovered his error, and the fallacy of his cal- culations. Then would he have given millions to have recalled his absent legions, and thus decide a moment so pregnant with his unalterable fate. But Grouchy was too far distant either to be reached by a messenger, or to be able to comply before the fate of the day had been determined. Napoleon was the first to arrive at Paris, and to con- vey thither the unwelcome news of his terrific disaster. It was soon ' ascertained throughout France that he had staked his destiny upon the issue of Waterloo ; and that he had lost. At four o'clock on the 21st, Napoleon sadly entered the palace of the Elyssee-Bourbons ; and his first measure was to propose that the chambers should declare him dictator, as the only means of saving France from impending ruin. But this measure was strongly opposed by Fouche, Lafayette, Dujsin, and the leaders of the popu- lar party in that assemblage. The chambers declared its sittings permanent. The prevalent feeling was that, in- stead of proclaiming Napoleon dictator, he should be re- quested, and even required, to abdicate, as the only pos OPPOSITION TO HIM IN THE ASSEMBLY. 329 eible means of preserving the country. With great truth Lafayette declared in the assembly that, " for more than ten years three millions of Frenchmen have perished for a man who wishes still to struggle against all Europe. We have done more than enough for him. It is now our duty to preserve our country ! " In truth Napoleon had for many years been the real curse not only of Eu- rope but even of France. It is true, he had rendered her name illustrious and preeminent in the annals of warfare. It is true, he had conducted her triumphant eagles into almost every capital in Europe. It is true, he had filled the French capital with the most rare and precious works of art, plundered from every gallery on the continent. It is true, he had made Paris the center of refinement, luxu- ry, and civilization. But these were all hollow and worth- less advantages, when compared with the infinite evils which he had inflicted upon his comitry in return. He had exhausted her finances in supporting his vast projects of ambition. Millions of her bravest and best children had perished on the battle-field in defense of his cause ; and their bones were then bleaching in almost every dis- tant chme, in the parched and desert sands of Africa, on the shady banks of the Tagus and the Gaudalquiver, amid the mighty abysmal gorges of the Alps, and on the frozen steppes of Russia. He had kept France for many years in a continual state of restlessness, exhaustion, and revolution, totally incompatible with all real and perma- nent national prosperity. Nor can we blame the leading statesmen of France that, after the battle and the defeat of Waterloo, they eagerly embraced the opportunity given them to humble and to crush the insatiable and de- 830 MOVEMENTS OF THE ALLIES. structive ambition of that desperate adventurer, who had been the messenger of ruin to so many millions of his fel- low creatures ; who had carried desolation and misery to so many nations ; who had even convidsed a whole con tinent by the prodigious throes of the most grasping and inordinate ambition which ever influenced the breast of any human being. As soon as the wishes of the chambers were communi- cated to Napoleon, he became extremely enraged. "De- throne me ! " said he, " they would not dare." " In an hour," answered Fouche, " on the motion of Lafayette, your dethronement will be irrevocably pronounced." Napoleon answered with a bitter smile : " Write to the chambers to keep themselves quiet ; that they shall be satisfied," Fouche ',\'rote immediately to the deputies that Napoleon was about to abdicate. Meanwhile the victorious armies of the alhes under Wellington and Bliicher were rapidly approaching Paris. The important fortress of Cambroy was surprised and taken on the night of the 24th of June ; as was also that of Peronne on the 26th. By the 29th the allied armies reached the forest of Bondy in the suburbs of Paris ; and established their right wing at Plcssis, their left at St, Cloud, and their reserve at Versailles. Wellington im- mediately opened communications with the commission- ers of the government for the purpose of obtaining the capitulation of the capital. As soon as Napoleon discov- ered the determination of the chambers to proclaim his dethronement, and being apparently sensible of the hope- lessness of his situation, he retired to the private domain NAPOLEON AT MALMAISON. 331 of Malmaison, the favorite retreat and the property of Josephine. This movement on the part of the fallen potentate seems to have been the most un-wise perpetrated by him during his whole career. It was a cardinal blunder that he did not remain in Paris ; surround himself with the fifty thousand veteran troops who were congregated in the capital ; and defend it to the last extremity. Not indeed that he could possibly have been successful in that defense ; but a desperate show of resistance at that criti- cal moment would undoubtedly have enabled him to make much better terms with the conquerors than he was ac- tually able to do. He would have probably escaped the ignominious fate which befel him when the allies, having determined not to recognize him as a sovereign, or even as a representative of a party or of a portion of the French nation ; and having resolved that he should not on any conditions remain in Europe ; they already treated him as an outcast and a wanderer, without the least consid- eration, influence, or power. After spending six days at Malmaison, Napoleon col- lected an immense quantity of valuables and set out for Rocbefort, with a large number of carriages ladened with his treasures. He traveled with the pomp of an emperor, and arrived at his destination on the third of July. It "was his determination then to sail for America ; but the close blockade of the port kept by the English cruisers, convinced him that it was impossible for him to escape their vigilance. Then it was that in an evil hour for him- self, but in an hour most propitious to the welfare and peace of Europe and the world, he concluded, as the only 332 RETURN OF LOUIS XVIIl. TO PARIS. resource left him, to throw himself on the hospitality of the British nation, as " the most poTverftil, the most con- stant, and the most generous of his enemies." On the 14th of July he embarked on board the Bellerophon, com- manded by Captain Maitland ; and from th.at moment he became a prisoner of war, in the keeping of the com- bined powers of Europe, whom his great talents and his restless ambition had so long filled with terror, appre- hension, and despair. Thus terminated the stirring scenes which so strangely animated and diversified the short but memorable epoch of the hundred days. On the 7th of July, 1815, the allied armies entered Paris. For the first time during four hun- dred years an EngUsh drum was heard reverberating within the walls of the French capital. It was indeed a joyful hour for those brave and war-beaten veterans who had, after so many prodigious struggles and vicissitudes, at length crushed the common enemy and oppressor of all, and restored a lasting peace to Europe. On the 8th of July Louis XYIII. again returned to his capital, escorted by the National Guards, again resumed the reins of gov- ernment, and ascended once more the brilliant throne of his ancestors. The most difficult problem which then engrossed the attention of the allied sovereigns and generals was the proper disposition which should be made of Napoleon. Their former misplaced generosity in assigning him the sovereignty of Elba, and the base use which he had made of that generosity, had taught them a valuable lesson of prudence. They were now unanimously resolved that Napoleon should be removed to some remote and lonely FINAL DISPOSAL OF BONAPARTE. 333 island of the ocean, and there, like a chained eagle, be compelled to pass the remainder of his existence. St. Helena was the spot immortalized as the last and abhorred abode of this memorable hero. He first set foot upon its bleak and barren rocks on the 16th of October, 1815, and to the obscure and cheerless heights of Longwood were his remaining days consigned who had filled so promi- nent a place in the world's history. There the mighty conqueror of a hundi-ed battles died in unwelcome obscurity and dependence ; and an humble and lonely grave, surrounded by the ocean's everlasting and mourn- ful lullaby, received the remains of him who had once played with scepters and diadems ; who had made and unmade kings at his pleasure ; who had in turn de- throned the hereditary monarchs of Spain, Naples, Swe- den, and Tuscany ; who had placed two crowns upon the head of Joseph Bonaparte ; who had made Louis king of Holland, Jerome sovereign of Westphalia, Murat king of Naples, Eliza grand-duchess of Tuscany ; who had laid low in the very dust the vigorous monarchy of Frederic the Great; who had spanned the AljJS with the magnifi- cent Simplon ; who had won in marriage the haughty de- scendant of an imperial race ; who had shaken every throne in Europe from Edinburg to Constantinople ; and who was conquered and chained at last, only by the com- bined energies of a whole continent arrayed against him in one final, implacable, and mortal conflict. CHAPTER XIII. EXILE OF NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA, As the origin of Napoleou's career, its progress, and its culmination of glory, were without a parallel in human history; so also was its melancholy termination. Na- poleon at St. Helena presents an unequaled spectacle ; for what can be a sublimer sight than that proud imperial eagle, after having soared in triumph over the length and breadth of a vast continent, having been at length van- quished and captured by combined millions in arms, at last being bound, like another Prometheus, with chains stronger than iron, to the lonely and frowning rock of St. Helena, to be preyed upon by the vultures of undy- ing mortification and regret ! It was on the 16th of October, 1815, that Napoleon first beheld, from on board the " Northumberland " man- of-war, the bleak heights which were destined to be his final and detested home, towering in gloomy solitude above the waves. St. Helena is distant six thousand mUes from the coast of France. It rises in lonely and repulsive grandeur in the midst of the Atlantic ocean ; and its highest peak is elevated three thousand feet above the level of the sea. It is a volcanic formation, having an uneven and rocky surface, and in no portion of it can sufficient fertility be found to serve the rudest and simplest purposes of hus- APPEARANCE OF ST. HELENA. 336 bandry. It is twenty-one miles in circumference. The prospect on every side is cheerless in the extreme — a waste of rude, bleak, and shapeless crags on the one hand, and on the other, an horizon bounded as far as the eye can reach only by the vast unchanging surface of the ocean. At the period of Napoleon's arrival, its inhabi- tants were five hundred in number, including also a gar- rison of one hundred and fifty men. The climate is un- healthy, being subject from its exposed position to vio- lent and excessive changes of temperature. Occasionally, tropical storms sweep over the rude surface of the island with sudden and terrific violence, destroying the few shelters which the hand of man may have erected to deco- rate the waste. James Town, its capital, situated at the base of its towering ridges, was a village of no preten- sion, chiefly inhabited by the various employees of the British government. Such was the spot selected by his triumphant foes, as the last residence of the once mighty Corsican, After spending some time at the Briars, a pleasant cottage near James Town, inhabited by an English family named Bal- come, his removal was ordered to Longwood on the 11th of December, 1815, and then the real impoi'tance and in- terest of Napoleon's exile in St. Helena commenced. The suite of Napoleon who accompanied him in his exile, was composed of the following persons : Coimt Las Cases, as his jsrivate secretary ; a person who twenty-four years before, had emigrated in the suite of the family of the murdered Louis XVI. disguised as a jockey. Count Montholon, Count Bertrand, General Gourgaud and Mar- chand, his valet dechambre — these long tried friends of Na 336 SITUATION OF LONG WOOD. poleon and their families alone were allowed or were will- ing to share the solitude of their illustrious benefactor. When Napoleon was about to pass from the Bellero- phon, on board the Northumberland, Admiral Keith ap- proached him with a profound bow, and said with sub- dued emotion holding out his hand : " England demands your sword as a prisoner of war ! " Napoleon was quite taken by surprise at this demand ; but instantly recover- ing himself, he placed his hand convulsively on his sword — the sword he had worn at Austerlitz — and a terrible and defiant glance of his eye Avas his only answer. The aged admiral was astounded. His tall head, white with the frost of years, sunk down, overawed by the fierce ex- pression of the captive ; and the latter retained his sword. Longwood was a small collection of inferior buildings, situated on a bleak and exposed plateau, eighteen hun- dreed feet above the level of the sea, and near the center of the island. This place was covered with gum trees, which exhibited only a stunted growth, and afforded neither shade nor beauty to the landscape. The main building was a structure of stone, some seventy feet in length, and thirty feet wide, with several additional build- ings of much less extent. These were all constructed in the simplest manner without the least pretensions to architectural beauty, and without any of the appliances of luxury, or even of comfort. To this spot was conducted, as to his last and only home on earth, that great potentate who had but recently revelled in the most luxuriant pala- ces of Europe, and had called^the matchless magnificence of Versailles and St. Cloud his own. A close line of sentries had been drawn around the plateau of Longwood NAPOLEON'S PROTEST. S31 by the Englisli governor from the day of the emperor's arrival there ; and through these, neither the emperor nor any of his suite could ever pass, except by the special permission of the then commandant of the island. To these, and -other indignities, the fallen conqueror submit- ted in silence. He indeed considered himself deeply out- raged by the British government who had placed him in that vile durance. Shortly after his arrival at St. Helena, he addressed a note to the British cabinet, in which he protested that he was not a prisoner of war ; that he had voluntarily placed himself under the protection of Eng- land, before going on board the Bellerophon ; that he could have placed himself under the protection of the Emperor Francis ; but that he had reposed fuU confidence in the honor and hospitahty of the British government ; that he had been deceived ; and that now odious restric- tions were imposed upon him, which curtailed his liberty, and were derogatory to his dignity. But these grievan- ces were but tiifles compared with those which he was compelled to endure after the arrival of Sir Hudson Lowe, as governor of the island, on the 14th of April, 1816. Then Napoleon began to feel the real ignominy and degradation of his condition. As this man of mighty wiU and insatiable ambition re- flected, amid the solitude of his ocean home, on his past prodigious career, how singular must have been his emo- tions ! At that very moment a distant continent still shook with the recent shock of his legions, on the ensan- guined plain of Waterloo. AU the statesmen and sover- eigns of that continent still exerted themselves with un- ceasing industry, to forge yet stronger the chains which O 22 338 APPREHENSIONS OF EUROPE'S MONARCHS. bound this formidable giant to his prison. All the in- habitants of that continent, from ocean to ocean, stiU trembled lest he should once more break loose with in- vincible power from that distant prison ; return again to the capital of his lost empire ; wrest his scepter from the hands of those who had just usurped it ; and calUng around him, as by the omnipotent wand of a magician, a hundred thousand armed followers, again resume his ca- reer of conquest ; again overturn thrones and dynasties ; and on^e more assume that irresistible supremacy over half a continent, of which he had so recently, and by the merest accident been deprived. And while all Europe thus trembled with apprehension and whispered with pale hps the possibility of the fulfill- ment of their fears, behold the exile himself in his distant prison. Surrounded by half a score of his most attached Mends, some of "whom had been near him when first his rising star began to ascend from obscurity, who had ac- coinpanied him ever since, during all the wonderful vicis- situdes of his career — he had ample leisure to reflect on the mighty revulsions of fortune and of fate which had overtaken him. Did he commiserate the milUons of men, whose bones then were crumbling beneath the earth on a hundred battle-fields, who had been led on to conflict and to death by his own insatiable ambition ? Did he then think of the millions of orphans and widows who at that moment fi-om Edinburgh to Cairo, from Madrid to Mos- cow, were shedding bitter tears over the loss of beloved husbands, brothei-s, and friends? Did his imagination pictm-e before him the countless hosts of ruined and wounded wretches, who, at that very moment were NAPOLEON'S FEELINGS IN EXILE. 339 crawling over the earth, almost from the rising to the set- ting sun, victims of the horrors of war which his own bomidless ambition had inflicted ; and who cursed him as the sole cause of their misfortimes ? "We doubt, indeed, whether he felt one single com- punctious emotion. His memoirs do not give iadication of a solitary circumstance which would seem to prove that he experienced any sensation whatever, as the long and cheerless years rolled by, except regret at the dis- comfiture of his prodigious ambition ; hatred and malig- nity against his cautious and jealous jailors ; curses against the mutability of fortune ; and defiance of his future fate, whatever the mysterious events of the time to come might develope before him. Napoleon Bonaparte such as he was through his life, amid all its ama2dng scenes of triumph and glory, of disaster and of wo, the same he remained until he breathed his last sigh of agony at Longwood, un- changed and unchangeable. And the various mortifica- tions, indignities, and insults — the deep despondency and despair — which he was compelled to endure during his captivity, the loss of all domestic ties and sympathies, the exulting joy of his triumphant and implacable foes, and the slow but conscious approach of a painful and prema- ture death — all these things were inflictions which taught his proud spirit to appreciate something of the misery which he had inflicted on millions of his race ; and ena- bled him, unwillingly, to estimate and feel the enormity of his own career, as the cause of infinite suffering on the earth. Sir Hudson Lowe seemed to have been chosen by the British government, as the jailor of Napoleon, because 840 MEASURES OF SIR HUDSON LOWE. he was known to possess qualities whicli would render his authority galling to liis captive to the last degree. Nor were their expectations disappointed. As soon as the new governor arrived on the island, he made different and much stricter regulations. The trade's-people were forbidden to sell the emperor's pai'ty anything, or to hold any communication with them whatever. All the paths and roads leading up to the heights of Longwood were continually guarded by patrols of soldiers. And when visitors who possessed passports from the governor visi- ted the captive, the guards were to report at what time the visits were made, and how long they continued. Spies were continually lurking around the retreat of the em- peror, who reported to Sir Hudson from day to day, everything even to the minutest event which occurred within the reach of their scrutiny. The expenses of Na^ poleon's household were made the subject of interference and dispute. The quantity and quality of his food and wines were inquired into and objected against. To these and various other annoyances, the fallen despot made but one reply to his persecutor: "You have full power over my body ; but my mind is, and will remain, beyond your reach. It is as proud and full of courage on this rock aa when I commanded Europe ! " We cannot but admire the energy and indomitable firmness of an intellect which remained unyielding and imcrushed by such great disas- ters, and by such a downfall from so Immense an elevation. In October, 1816, so great had become the terror which agitated the minds of the cabinets of Europe, lest their colossal captive might still escape them, that they imposed new and more stringent restrictions upon him. The ar- THE TREATY OF 1815. 341 tides of the treaty into which England, Austria, Prussia, and Russia had entered, in reference to Napoleon, on the 2d of Aug'ust, 1815, contained the following provisions : 1. Napoleon Bonaparte is regarded by these powers, as their prisoner of war. 2. His safe-keeping is entrusted to the British govern- ment. The choice of his abode and the means necessary to secure his safe retention are reserved to his Britannic majesty. 8. The courts of Austria, Russia, and Prussia shall ap- point commissioners to reside at the place of Napoleon's abode, who shall constantly assure themselves of his pres- ence there. 4. The king of JEngland binds himself to fulfill this ar- rangement with reference to the future secure confine- ment of Napoleon Bonaparte. It would seem as if with the progress of time the allied powers became more and more fearM of the escape of their captive. Accordingly in 1816, instructions were sent to Sir Hudson Lowe, that the order should be made known, "that henceforth General Bonaparte is required to abstain from entering any house, and from holding any conversation with the persons whom he may meet, unless in the presence of an Enghsh ofiicer." The former allow- anco made by the British government for the support of the captive's estabfishment was now also diminished ; and Napoleon was compelled to permit the sale of his plate, in order to make up the consequent deficiency. This was not because he did not possess any money for that purpose ; but because he wished, by this act, to proclaim to the world that he had been compelled to appropriate some 342 NAPOLEON'S HATRED OF HIS JAILOR. of his private means to the maintenance of one, wl the allied sovereigns had themselves proclaimed to their prisoner of war, and whom, according to the uss of civilized nations, they were bound adequately to f port. During the interviews between Napoleon and Hudson Lowe, the former had uttered sentiments of bitterest contempt and hostility toward his jailor. Said he, " You never let a day pass without your torturing me by your insults. Where have you ever commanded anything but bandits and deserters ? I know the names of all the EngUsh generals of distinction ; but I never heard of you." Language such as this, naturally filled the narrow mind of Sir Hudson Lowe with the most implaca- ble resentment against his captive ; >ind the various means adopted by him to display his enmity, reminds us of the fable of the prostrate and dying Hon assaulted by the audacious jackass. Napoleon at this period either was or pretended to be poor, and he sent letters to the members of his family in Europe, stating that he was in want of the most necessary comforts. They hastened to offer him the whole, or a large share of, their fortunes. King Joseph placed ten millions of francs subject to his order. Queen Hortense, the beautiful Pauline, and the avaricious mother of the ex-emperor, each offered him the whole of their fortunes; while Eliza wrote to him that she possessed but twenty thousand francs in the world, and the half of those were his. It was chiefly of the hberal offer of his brother Jo- seph that Napoleon subsequently made use. The mortifications of the emperor's condition still con- tinued to increase. In October orders were received that, I SIR HUDSON LOWK. 343 his personal suite should be diminished by the withdrawal of four persons. Soon afterward his private secretary, Las Cases, was arrested ; his papers sealed up and re- moved ; and he himself eventually compelled to leave St. Helena, and return to Europe. Sir Hudson occasionally took sudden fits of apprehension lest his prisoner had es- caped; and then he would rush up to Longwood, and force himself into the presence of the captive in defiance of aU etiquette or even decorum. On one of these occa- sions Napoleon became incensed beyond endurance. Be- ing informed by his attendant that Sir Hudson was about to enter his apartment thus unannounced, he said : " TeU my jailor that he may exchange his keys for the hatchet of the executioner, but that he shall not enter my apart- ment except over my corpse. Give me my jiistols ! " Sir Hudson overheard this threat ; and being satisfied that Napoleon had not escaped, he retired. The captive and the jailor never met again. But the latter gave orders to all the sentries that if General Bonaparte himself ever attempted to approach any of them, he should immediately be arrested and confined in the guard-house. An im- mense iron grating was at last sent for to England, which was placed around the circumference of the plateau of Longwood, several miles in extent. This grating firmly planted in the ground was so high, that it was impossible to scale it, and was guarded by one hundred and thirty sentinels both by day and night. Such were some of the precautions adopted by the British government to secure the detention of the most dangerous, as he was the most able man, m the world. Naj^oleon, as the crowning act of indignity heaped upon him, saw firom his window at 344 THE MODERN MECCA. W Longwood, the erection of this high railing around the outskirts of his abode ; he beheld in it another and clearer proof of the excessive vigilance with which his person and his captivity were watched. And he perceived in these various aimoyances and precautions clearer evidence that the possibility of his escape was daily diminishing, and that he was at last destined never more to behold the sunny plains of his beloved France, but to end his cheer- less exile, only by his death. It will readily be supposed that Napoleon's residence at St, Helena, rendered that barren rock the most inter- esting and observed locality of the whole earth ; and that pilgrims from every clime visited it, to gaze upon the fal- len conqueror in his low and humbled estate. Such in- deed was the fact. The bleak heights of St. Helena be- came another Mecca, toward which the feet of the curi- ous, the distinguished, and the fair from almost every clime, were continually tending. These offered at the crumbling shrine of the fallen deity, the tributes of their admiration and reverence ; and some made propositions to him for the purpose of procuring his release, which indi- cated that there were hearts which still beat with undy- ing devotion to his cause, and ',','ere animated with the belief that he would yet regain his lost empire, and trimnph over every foe. One of these propositions came from the captain of an English merchant vessel returning from the East Lidies ; who assured him that the whole Enghsh nation were out- raged at the course pursued toward him by their own cabinet. Another offer came to him from one of the offi- cers of the garrison at St. Helena ; who proposed that Na- PROPOSALS OF ESCAPE. 345 poleon should reach a certain point of the island on the shore, which was but an hour's walk from Longwood ; was very remote, obscure, and guarded only by a post of infantry ; and that thence row boats would convey him in a few minutes to a vessel which rode at anchor near the spot. A still different offer was made to Napoleon to effect his release by means of submarine vessels, which were to approach a point of the coast which the captive could easily reach, and then hiding himself in a ravine from six o'clock in the evening until the time of departure during the night. Five thousand louis were expended by a friend of Dr. O'Meara, in making experiments in reference to the practicability of this plan. For some reason or other, Napoleon refused to accept any of these successive propositions. He said to Mon- tholon : " I should not be six months in America without being assassinated by the Count d'Artois' creatures. He sent the Chouan Brulard to kill me at Elba. I see in America nothing but assassination or oblivion. I pre- fer St. Helena to these. 3Iy martyrdom here will restore the crown of France to my dynasty .'" Prophetic words which the progress of time has so truly and so wonderfully confirmed ! It may well be imagined that the monotonous life of the ex-emperor was sufficiently dreary. His only or chief solace was the exercise of dictating his memoirs to some member of his suite. All access to his residence was strictly forbidden, from six o'clock in the evening till six in the morning. This rule enforced a degree of solitude upon him which was in the highest degree irksome. His annoyances continued to increase; and in 1818 the em- O* 346 NAPOLEON'S SICKNESS. peror's physician Dr. O'Meara, received orders not to quit the enclosed grounds of Longwood ; three months af- terward, he was forcibly removed from aU intercourse with Napoleon, and soon was compelled to leave the isl- and altogether. During the same year, General Gour- gaud, one of his personal suite was induced to return to France, on account of his own sickness. The year 1819 found the exile still declining in health. In January of this year, he could not quit his bed-room. On the 16th and 1 7th he became much worse. He was at this time without the advice of any medical attendant, and he was compelled to request the services of a physician who happened then to be on board the " Conqueror," in the harbor of St. Helena. During the year 1820, the fatal disease which was secretly gnawing at his vitals — cancer in the stomach — made rapid progress. The illustrious patient was becoming much attenuated. His once ro- tund figure was rapidly shrinking to that of a skeleton. He could no longer take his customary rides around the limited domain allowed him. His nights were sleepless, and he received many clear prognostics of the mournful fact that his dissolution was not very far distant. The exUe of Napoleon at St. Helciia, is not so remarka- ble from the fact that he ever lived there, as because he died there. His life in that remote and obscure quarter of the globe was not particularly worthy of note. It was common-place. He could not display in that humble and circiunscribed sphere any of the mighty qualities which have rendered him the most wonderful of men. He would have acted very differently had he spent those years upon the brilliant throne of France. But Napoleon died at St. NAPOLEON'S WILL. 347 Helena, j^recisely as he would have expii'ed had he closed his career within the gilded chambers of St. Cloud. How that imperial spirit would confront the great King of Terrors anywhere, is an inquiry of intense interest ; and the mcideuts which attended that last fearful struggle were in substance the same, whether the conflict occurred on the pinnacle of his glory in France, or amid the glooms of obscurity at St. Helena. The first symptoms of his approaching dissolution were his vomiting of black matter, proving the presence of ulceration in the stomach, accompanied by an intense pain in his left side. Napoleon was attended during his last iUness by Dr. Arnott, an EngUsh physician of whose abilities he had received favorable statements. On the 21st of April, 1821, being himself convinced of the near- ness of his dissolution, he prepared his wiU with his own hand, and duly sealed and executed it. He began it by the declaration that " he died in the Apostolical Roman reUgion, in the bosom of which he had been born ! " He also desired that his ashes might repose on the banks of the Seine, among the French people whom he had loved so well. He added that he died prematurely, because he was assassinated by the Enghsh cabinet and theh* deputy. He then made various bequests to his relatives and most attached followers, amounting to more than a million of dollars. The EngUsh government had not confiscated his private property ; but had allowed him the full and jfree disposal of it. Napoleon's plea of poverty, therefore, made publicly during his captivity at St. Helena, was without foundation, and was used merely for the purpose of political effect. His wUI contained thirty-seven differ- 348 HE PREPARES FOR DEATH. ent legacies ; among which were many of a hundred thou- sand francs each to his most attached officers and soldiers, who had remaiaed in France. He made touching allu- sions in his will to his absent wife, Maria Louisa, and to his son, the Ul-fated king of Rome. He also spoke in terms of affection respectkig his mother, liis brothers, sis- ters, and the two adopted children of his once loved Josephine — Hortense and Eugene. He forgave his ene- mies ; and desired to leave that world in peace, which he had so long agitated and desolated by his insatiable ambition. He then prepared himself to die. Not indeed as or- dinary mortals would prepare to leave the world ; but by composkig his mind to a consciousness of the dignity of the occasion ; and by so demeaning himself in this last and solemn act of the memorable drama of his life, that it might be said, that the great Napoleon was not unworthy of himself — his genius and his fame — even in the hour which most fearfully tries men's souls. On the morning of the 26th of April, 1821, the emperor called Montholon to his bedside and said to him : " I have just seen my good Josephine, but she would not embrace me. She disappeared at the moment I was about to take her in my arms. She told me we were about to see each other again, never more to part. Did you see her ? " Was this a delusion of that mighty brain, or was it another proof, that denizens of the spirit-land may, and sometimes do, revisit the "glimpses of the moon," and hold inter- course with those they have left behind them ? During the night of the 29th of AprU, the dying em- peror suffered intense agony ; and perspired so profusely HE RECEIVES EXTREME UNCTION. 349 that his iinen was changed seven times. His person had become emaciated to the last degree ; but his indomita- ble mind retained its undiminished energy and power. At four o'clock m the morning, he dictated to Montholon two elaborate projects, which seem, under the circumstan- ces of the case, to be the most remarkable things recorded in history. The dying man, already struggling within the jaws of death, dictated one paper on the " future des- tination of Versailles," and the other on " the reorgani- zation of the National Guard of France." Five days be- fore he expired, this wonderful person still interested him- self deeply in the internal government and architectural improvement of a country six thousand miles distant from his bedside — a coimtry which he could never by any pos- sibility, again behold ! Conscious of his approaching end, Napoleon during the night of the 1st of May, sent for the Abbe Vignali, his almoner, to administer to him the last succors of religion. It is certainly an incident which serves to show the in- herent and divme power of truth, that the greatest intel- lect which the world has ever seen, did not discard the aid which Christianity is intended to afford, in his last mo- ments. It is worthy of note that he, who all his life, had either been an infidel, a Mahomedan, or a sensualist in the fullest sense of the term, should, when in extremis, aban- don all other supports, and rely solely on the aid af- forded by religion. He who had suppressed the inquisi- tion; who had imprisoned the Pope; who had, more than any other man, broken down the power of priestly arrogance and authority throughout the world ; was will- ing, when the solemn realities of an unknown world were 360 HE BECOMES DELIRIOUS. beginning to close around him, to imptere the help of a principle and an institution, which he had so fiercely op- posed. And yet it illustrates at the same time, the in- herent weakness even of the mightiest, that Napoleon de- sired the utmost secresy to be observed in reference to his acceptance of these last rites ; lest forsooth, his conduct might excite the derision of the gay and satiiical Parisians ! On the 2d of May, the expiring emperor again dictated to his private secretary two hours in succession During the night of the 3d of May, at two o'clock, he sat up with a convulsive movement ; and at length tried to arise from his bed. He was enduring the most intense agony. The deadly cancer in his stomach was gnawing at his vitals, having by a slow yet inevitable process, approached a vital part. "I am burning," said he, "as if my stomach was full of coals of fire." During the succeeding day, for the first time in the history of that mighty intellect, it wandered ; and reason for a short time deserted her ac- customed throne and became enshrouded in darkness. At length the 5th of May dawned — the day on which the greatest hero of modern times was destined to leave the world. Toward two o'clock he became deUrious. Amid the wild wanderings of that giant mind, an oc- casional phrase escaped him, which clearly indicated on what favorite themes his last thoughts dwelt : — France, armee — tete d^armie — Josephine. Then, at length, as the fatal disease grasped deeper hold of his vitals, and the last pang of agony pierced his frame, he sprang with a con- vulsive movement from his bed ; and though his faithful attendant, Martholon, attempted to resist his rising, so great was the spasmodic strength inspired by that awful DEATH OF NAPOLEON. 351 torture, that the attendant was thrown down upon the car- pet and Napoleon fell with him. By the assistance of Archambaud, he was soon replaced in liis bed ; and be- came again tranquil. His j^a-ngs of pain and suffering were intense, and yet he bore them with silent and heroic fortitude. At length, an ominous rattling in the throat gave the presage of immediate dissolution, and the last moment had arrived. It was late in the aftei-noon. A terrific storm had arisen, and the heavens were darkened with heavy and drifting clouds. The ocean had suddenly changed its eternal mellow lullaby to hoarser and louder tones of wrath ; and lashed the rock-bound coast with appalling fury. The tempest raged over the rude surface of the island ; and blackness and darkness seemed to por- tend some great calamity to nature. The rude dwelling of the dying hero shook to its foundations with the fury of the storm. But he heeded it not. Within that silent chamber his mighty spirit was dealing then with that dread conqueror who is stronger than the greatest of earthly kings. He who had sent so many myriads of his fellow creatures to a premature grave, was now him- - self about to descend to its dark and cheei-less shadows ; and his untamed spirit was soon to appear before the im- partial judge of all. At six o'clock in the evening of the 5th of May, 1821, the immortal hero of Friedland and of Austerlitz — the dauntless conqueror on a hundred battle- fields, once the sovereign and dictator of the half of Eu- rope — expired on the lone and barren heights of St. He- lena ; and left the Avorld to that repose, security, and peace, of which he had so long and so ambitiously de- prived it. 352 HIS REMAINS REMOVED TO FRANCE. Tlie great event was not unanticipated. The whole world awaited with breathless expectation the news which would announce the momentous event ; and when that information at length arrived, and spread rapidly from one end of Europe to another — that Napoleon was dead — a whole continent, nay even the civiUzed world, was con- vulsed by conflicting emotions — some with joy and ex- ultation that death had at last paralyzed that mighty arm, and some with sorrow, that so glorious a spirit had winged its way from earth, prematurely, in the midst of exUe, suffering and obscurity ; and that they should never more behold its prodigious feats of heroism and of power. On the 16th of December, 1840, a singular and impos- ing spectacle was presented in the ancient and brilliant capital of France. The -remains of the great emperor, transported from their lonely bed on the rude heights of St. Helena, had been won back again to France, from their stern janitors ; and now, his last ardent wish that his re- mains might repose on the sunny banks of the Seine, was about to be realized. A procession five miles in length, and funeral solemities unequalled in the memory of man for imposing grandeur and mournful magnificence, were about to commemmorate the event ; and to accompany their crumbling dust to its last gorgeous home beneath the dome of the Invalides. There his dust now reposes — ■ a shruie to which millions will repair, as to the most im- pressive and memorable spot on earth — until the end of time ; and till that dust, reanimated by omnific power at the last great day, shall arise again to the resurrection of the just or the unjust I RETURN OF LOUIS XVIII. 353 "Yet spirit immortal ! the tomb cannot bind thee , For like thine own eagle tliat soared to the sun, Thou spi'ingest from Bondage, and leavest behind thee, A name which, beside thee, no mortal hath won. Though nations may combat, and war's thunders rattle. No more on thy steed shalt thou sweep o'er the plain; Thou sle'pst thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle, No sound can awake thee to glory again !" In the spring of 1814, after twenty-three years of exile, Louis XVIII. ascended the throne of his ancestors, un- der the auspices of the armies of the confederate i)0wcrs of Europe. France underwent a complete transformation. Excepting the short interval of the hundred days, Louis retained possession of an uneasy and insecure throne, untU the period of his death in September, 182-i-. He was succeeded by Charles X. a man of very considerable abilities, and energy of character. This monarch was highly conservative in his principles, and vainly aimed to bring back again the absolute sway of throne and altar, over a people who had read Voltaire and Rousseau, and had heard the thrilling eloquence of Vergniaud and Robes- pierre. After many obstinate struggles with the spuit and the prejudices of the nation, a revolution broke out on the 27th of July, 1830, in which three thousand per- sons were killed, and Charles X, was compelled to abdi- cate. He fled from the country. To him succeeded Louis Phillipe, the repiesentative of the younger branch of the Bourbon dynasty. After eighteen years of dexter- ous but unprincipled goA'^ernment, Louis Pliillipe was also expelled from the throne by a sudden insurrection of the Parisian populace, and a Republic was estabhshed in the stead of the banished princes. These events opened the 23 354 LOUIS PHILLIPE. way for the remarkable career of the wise and sagacious statesman, who now governs France, and who has so won- derfully introduced the splendid and prosperous era of the Second Empire. CHAPTER XIV. THE CAKEEil OF LOUIS NAPOLEON EMPEEOE OF THE FKENCH. The elevation of Louis Napoleon to one of the most brilliant and powerful thrones in the world after so many years of exUe, persecution, and contempt, presents one of the most remarkable spectacles recorded in history. It was not very singular that, when the elder branch of the great house of Bourbon had proved itself utterly unfit to wield the destinies of France, the prudent and experienced Louis PhilUpe should have been substituted in their place, by a nation who were wearied of change, and who de- sired a permanent government, possessing some consid- erable elements of popular liberty. Louis PhiUipe had won the respect of the whole world, by his natural and acquired gifts, by his prudence and patience in misfortune, and by the talents for government which he had already displayed. But none of these favorable influences op- erated in behalf of the discomfited hero of Strasburg and Boulogne ; and yet, propitious fortune, and his own un- expected displays of genius, have placed in his vigorous hand, a scepter more powerful and despotic than that of Louis Phillipe. Louis ISTapoleon Bonaparte was bom at Paris on the 20th of April, 1808. He was the son of Louis Bonaparte, the brother of the emperor Napoleon I., and Hortense dc Beauharnais, the daughter of Josephine. His birth 366 PARENTAGE OF NAPOLEON III. was celebrated with somo enthusiasm, inasmuch as his near relationship to the emperor rendered it not impossi- ble that, at some future period in the absence of more direct heirs, the son of the amiable Hortense might in- herit the dominion of the great conqueror. He was bap- tised at Fontainbleau, and Napoleon and the empress Maria Louisa, officiated as sponsors at the ceremony. All this partiality was based on the supposition, that Louis Napoleon was legitimate; but there were not want- ing persons both then, and since, who positively asserted that the father of the present emperor of the French was not the king of Holland, but the Dutch Admiral Verhuel ; between whom and Hortense there was knowm to exist a most intimate and confidential attachment. It is also asserted that Louis Napoleon, the husband of Hortense, was fully aware of this circumstance ; that it was not unknown to the rest of the Bonaparte family ; that the son of ex-king Jerome used frequently to say, "Napoleon ni. is a stranger to our family ; he is a Dutchman ; " and that the widow of Lucien Bonaparte was accustomed to speak of the prisoner of Ham, only as the "person bear- ing the false name." Other members of this remarkable family have frequently used in reference to the successful .^dventurer, an epithet much less charitable or decorous than thi-^. Louis 2\'"apoleon was seven years old when the great disaster of Waterloo prostrated the empire of Napoleon I. in the dust. Immediately afterward his mother retired to Augsburg, in Bavaria, and her son accompanied her, After a considerable period they removed to Arenemberg, Switzerland ; and there the studies of Louis Napoleon NAPOLEON III. AT ARENEMBERG. 357 seriously began. He devoted himself particularly to the belles-lettres, and to the exact sciences, as well as to the study of the military art. To improve himself in this lat- ter branch of knowledge, he visited the camp at Thun, and actively engaged in every species of military service. It was while thus employed that the revolution of 1830 broke out at Paris, which placed Louis Phillipe upon the throne of France. The enmity of this ' disguised despot to the whole Bonaparte race is well known. Louis Na- poleon was in Italy when his elder brother, Charles Bona- parte expired ; and he thus became the legitimate heir and representative of the great emperor, inasmuch as the king of Rome was also removed, nearly at the same pe- riod, by the fatal artiiices and intrigues of Louis Phillipe. Louis Napoleon returned to his retreat in Switzerland, and devoted himself industriously to the pursuit of mili- tary knowledge, and of general information. It was at this period that he pubhshed a work which exhibits very considerable abilities as an author; his Considerations militaires sur la Suisse. This production won for its au- thor no mean rej)utation ; and procured for him from the Sfldss cantons, the honorable title and dignity of Citizen of the Mepitblic. During this period, not only Louis Napoleon, but also his mother were very much embarrassed in their circum- stances. Of all the vast wealth which the queen of Hol- land once possessed, nothing then remained to her but one valuable diamond necklace. Driven by necessity, she at length sent word to the Tuilleries, that she was reduced to the deepest misery, and had nothing remaining but that necklace, which she entreated the royal family to 358 HE CONSPIRES AGAINST LOUIS PHILLIPE. purchase from her. In reply she was asked, at what price she would dispose of it ? She answered, at four hundred thousand francs. They accepted the sale, and instead of sending her the amount demanded, they gave her the sum of seven hundred thousand. This opportune and gen- erous act on the part of the female portion of the family of Louis Phillipe, preserved the unfortunate Hortense from fature want and misery. But this display of generosity did not prevent Louis Napoleon from feeling it his duty to attempt the over- throw of the "king of the barricades." Feeling dissatis- fied with the state of France, and hoiaing by a revolution to reaKze his life-long aspiration, and even presentiment, that he should one day occupy the throne of his illustrious uncle, he commenced extensive intrigues with the army. His emmissaries were neither few nor inefficient. Among other officers of distinction, whom he gained over to his interest, was Vaudry, the commandant of the garrison of Strasburg, That officer was active in seducing the sold- iers under him ; and m holding communications with other commandants throughout France. At length, the conspirators thought that their schemes were ripe, and that the favorable moment for action had arrived. On the 29th of October, 1836, Louis Napoleon crossed the French frontier, and entered Strasburg, in order to meet a secret assemblage of the officers M^ho were disaffected toward the government of Louis Phillipe. The prince addressed them in an animated speech, and strove to ex- cite their enthusiasm. He partially succeeded ; the sol- diers who had been won over, paraded the streets of the city ; the revolution was proclaimed ; and an effort made AFFAIR OF STRASBURG. 359 to create a general and favorable excitement throughout the city. The whole movement was premature and abortive. It was easily suppressed, and its precipitate leader, together with his principal sui^porters, were made prisoners. Louis Napoleon was tried and condemned to death ; but on the urgent supplications of his mother, his life was spared, and he was banished to the United States. Little did the family of Louis Phillipe then im- agine, that the ruined adventurer whom their generosity had once saved from poverty and starvation, and after- ward from death itself, would at a later period, supplant them on their throne ; would take the extreme measure of compelKng them to dispose at a sacrifice of all their property in France ; and would so surround his scepter with every bulwark of power, of popular adulation, and of material defense, that their own return to empire has been made thereby, the most improbable, and the most difficult of all the eventualities which lie hidden in the deep and dark bosom of futurity ! The prince was conducted to Paris under a guard ; taken thence to L'Orient, and placed on board the An- dromede. He arrived safely in New York, and spent the first few weeks of his sojourn in the great repubhc of the west, in travelling through its most remarkable and interesting regions. At this period of his Ife, Louis Na- poleon was characterized no longer by his ardent love of science, nor by his ambitious longings and intrigues. He had become, partly by the force of circumstances, partly from disappointment and chagrin, and partly from the strong natural bias of his nature, which he no longer sup- pressed, a reckless debauchee and libertine. His acts of 360 HIS SOJOURN IN NEW YORK. immorality and vice rendered him even notorious. In New York, he became the habitue, of tlie most celebrated haunts of infamy and licentiousness. He was equally re- gardless of all pecuniary liabilities. He outraged public propriety and decency by his extreme excesses. He was even arrested and imprisoned in the common jail, and there herded with the lowest and basest of mankind. Not long prior to his leaving New York, he was arrested for a disgraceful misdemeanor, committed by him in the house of a woman, whose establishment he frequently visited. So notorious had he become at that time, that he received from the French residents of New York the Parisian epithet of JBadenguet / a term used to designate those debauchees and drunkards who, being hoj^elessly involved in debt, regularly waste Sundays and Mondays without the barriers, in places of amusement. At this period the prince was reduced to the lowest poverty; and subsisted entirely on the sums loaned and given him by his male and female friends. He was recalled from this life of degradation and de- pendence by the sad news of the dangerous illness of his mother. He immediately embarked at New York for Europe, and hastened to the bed-side of the ex-queen of Holland at Arenemberg. She expired ; and scarcely had she been interred, when Louis Phillipe demanded from the Swiss cantons, the expulsion of the hero of Strasburg from their territories. He was compelled once more to flee ; and on this occasion he took refuge in England. The life of the Prince Napoleon during his residence in England, very much resembled that which he led, while residing in the United States. His pecuniary ne- aiS EXILE IN ENGLAND. 361 cessities compelled him to descend to many ignoble ex- pedients from which doubtless his own sense of propriety would have revolted ; while his disappointed ambition and the death of his mother disposed him to indulge still more deeply in the licentiousness and dissipation which had marked his conduct at a previous period. Nor can any one who contemplates the career of this remarkable man, fail to be struck with the amazing extremes of fort- une exhibited with reference to his history in England ; how, in 1840 he was there an imijoverished exile, broken in hope, in fortune, and in character ; how, at that time, he was the known and despised fi'equenter of every haunt of fashionable, and even of ignoble vice ; how the smal- lest municipal office then contented his ambition, and im- proved his finances ; how his condition and his expecta- tions were then looked upon as so hopeless as to be even beneath derision and contempt; and how, in 1854, that same Louis Napoleon was received by the Queen of that vast empu-e in her stateliest array ; how he rode along the same streets which had once witnessed his poverty and abasement, surrounded by the greatest pomp and splendor, by the most brilliant equipages, and by all the grand and imposing display which an opulent and powerful court could throw around him ; and how he then retired to be feasted and feted with the utmost magnificence in the halls of that palace from whose very poi-tals he would formerly have been repulsed with ignominy ! In 1840 ambition once more gained the mastery over the prudence and the indifference of the prince, and he made his second ill-advised attempt to overthrow the throne of Louis Phillipe. Whatever might have been 362 THE AFFAIR OF BOULOGNE. the extent of the conspiracy which existed in France among the Bonapartists, whatever their resources may have been, it is apparent that they were at that period not sufficiently organized, nor impelled by a spirit prop- erly guided, to secure the remotest prospect of success. In August of 1840, Napoleon embarked on board the jEdinhurg Castle^ and landed at Boulogne, with a small number of associates as reckless, as desperate, and as drunken as himself Upon their arrival they attempted to create a ferment in favor of the prince ; but aU to no purpose.* During the excitement which ensued while Napoleon and his friends were attempting to seduce the garrison of Boulogne from their allegiance, he had an al- tercation with the commandant in which he discharged his pistol with the intention of shooting him, but missed his aim and killed a private soldier standing quietly in his ranks. This was the extent of his achievements on this occasion. In a very short time the prince was again ar- * "The captain of the steamer told us that the rebels had drunk sixteen dozen bottles of wiue during their passage from London to Witnereux, without counting brandy and liqueurs. The soldiers of the 42nd, who were present at the contest, and whom we have interrogated, have assured us that the rebels were almost all tipsy." [Proces de N. L. Bonaparte, &a., 1 vol. published by Pagnerre, 1840, p. 28.) At length the prefect of Boulogne, M. Launay-Le- prevot, says in addition, in his private report: — " L. Bonaparte and suite seem to have landed this morning at about three or four o'clock, at a distance of two miles and a half from the city of Boulogne. During their march towards the town, they stopped to drink." (Proces, itc, p. 7.) It must be owned that those are not very temperate emperor's nephews. Wine and gold — such constitute all the genius of the modern Augustus. We have not forgotten the libation in the plain of Satory, where the troops vere for the first time made to call out : Vive I'Empereur ! " THE PRINCE IMPRISONED AT HAM. 363 I'ested ; the live eagle which he had brought with him as an emblem of his anticipated success, was decapitated ; his companions still reeling with the effects of their de- bauch, were easily put in durance ; and this absurd ex- pedition ended in disappointment and disgrace. The prince though again guilty of treason, and though he did not even then suffer the penalty which treason de- serves, did not escape on such easy terms as before. He was conveyed as a prisoner to the fortress of Ham ; and his detention there continued for the period of six years. His sentence was that of imprisonment for life ; and it was doubtless the intention of Louis Phillipe to place the restless representative of the Napoleonic dy- nasty forever beyond the power of again disturbing the security and perpetuity of his throne. It is an evidence of the superiority of mind possessed by this remarkable man, that though a voluptuary when at liberty, when confined within a prison he was capable of, and disposed to, turn his thoughts to dignified subjects of inquiry, and to engage in continuous and careful investigations into the most important questions of political economy, and the wealth and prosperity of nations. In 1842 he pub- lished his work entitled. Analysis of the Questions of /Sugars / which evinced a deep acquaintance with the subject, and a great degree of facility as a writer. This, work was followed shortly afterward by another, his jR&- flections on Becniiting the Army ; which displayed an equal degree of research and reflection upon a widely different, but equally important department of the public welfare. In pursuits such as these, six years of captivity 364 HE RESOLVES TO ESCAPE. passed away. The prisoner of Ham neither forgot the former impulses of his ambition, nor was he forgotten by the great and powerful party in France of whom he was the representative. On the 2d of May, 1847, he deter- mined to execute his project of escape. The various events which were occurring under the government of Louis Phillipe, clearly indicated to the sagacious mind of Louis Napoleon, that a crisis was approaching, and that he should be prepared to take advantage of it. The plan of escape projected by the captive was ad- mirably adapted to succeed. Workmen were then pass- ing to and fro through the castle, completing some re- pairs which had been commenced near the apartment oc- cupied by Louis Napoleon. At the time appointed, he dressed himself in the garb of one of the workmen, throw- ing a common blouse over the rest of his attire. He shaved off his moustaches. A long pipe adorned his mouth, and a heavy board was laid ready to be elevated to his shoulder in order to complete the deception. There were two relics which the prince valued infinitely, which he was loth to leave behind him ; and yet their presence on his person, in case he should afterward be searched, would inevitably condemn him. These relics were so highly prized that for many years Louis Napoleon had uniformly carried them in his bosom. One of them was a letter of his mother filled with expressions of ten- derness ; and it was the last which he had received fi-om her previous to her death. The other was a letter from the Emperor Napoleon to Hortense, in which he spoke of her son ia the following terms : " I hope he will grow up and make himself worthy of the destiny which awaits HE IS ELECTKD A KEPRESENTATIVE. 365 him." At length, after pondering for some time what he shoukl do with these precious mementoes, he deter- mined to risk the danger of their retention. They are prized until the 23resent hour by theii' fortunate possessor, as his richest and most invaluable treasures. Fortune favored the prisoner, and under his strange disguise, he escaped the guards of the castle. He first fled to Brussels, thence to Ostend, and afterward to Eng- land. The discontent which existed in France against the government of Louis Phillipe increased, and finally ended in the sudden and mysterious revolution which precipitated him from the throne. Previous to this event, the friends of Louis Napoleon among the French had not been idle. Five departments voted to admit him to citizenship. He published a manifesto in which he in- genously acknowledged his attachment to France, and his honorable ambition to render himself in some promi- nent way useful to her interests. " My heart tells me," said he, " that I shall be worthy of the confidence of the nation." The dissatisfaction of the people with their rulers increased ; the pot-house pohticians had at that time assumed considerable importance ; and their vio- lence had rendered their influence in the state both de- cisive and dangerous. On the fall of Louis Philhpe, Louis Napoleon hastened to Paris ; but the provisional government, vrith the imbecile and visionary Lamartine at its head, informed the prince that his presence in the capital embarrassed the new government which then be- gan to rule in France, and requested him to withdraw. He did so ; but he was soon elected a deputy to the chambers, and returned to occupy the post thus assigned 366 HE IS ELECTED PRESIDENT. him by the people. In this position he was not indiffer- ent to the advancement of his personal interests, and to the accomplishment of those more ambitious hopes which had so long and so powerfully animated him. Lamartine retired from his position as head of the provisional government, after having won for himself the contempt and pity of every intelligent man in France. A new president was about to be elected. N'ow was the great turning point in the destiny of the lieir of the Bonaparte dynasty ; and his confederates and partisans, fuUy conscious of the importance of the crisis, were de- termined to improve it. Their exertions were unremit- ting throughout France, to secure the election of Louis Napoleon to the presidency. The utmost use was made of the immense and undying popularity of the great Na- poleon, among all classes of the French people, in order to excite their sympathy, and to win their votes for his representative. France was fiUed with innumerable busts, with countless portraits, and with every possible me- mento of the illustrious Corsican. These exertions and expedients succeeded. Louis Napoleon was elected president of France, by the voices of seven millions of voters. Louis Phillipe may with truth be said to have ensured his own ruin, and the elevation of the rival dy- nasty, by admitting the remains of the illustrious sleeper of St. Helena to a last resting place on the banks of the Seine which he loved so well, and where he had so ar- dently desired to rest. From the hour that the conqueror of Austerlitz entered beneath the sublime dome of the InAialides, the knell of the house of Orleans struck for- ever ; their future downfall became inevitable j and the HIS TALENTS AS A RULER., 367 accession of a Bonaparte to the throne was an irresistible necessity ! Having thus attained the first stejj of his ambitious as- cent, and having realized the apparently fabulous dream of his youth, and of his manhood, Louis Napoleon began to govern France with an unexpected degree of intelli- gence, sagacity, firmness, and popularity. All men were astounded at the sudden display of these "high andrare quaUties which he made. From the very day of his ac- cession to his supreme oifice, he commenced to win for himself the reputation of being the most able, the most wise, the most successful ruler among the whole herd of European sovereigns ; and it seemed almost like a fan- ciful dream of political romance, or a historical Utopia, that the once dissipated and debauched adventurer who had been the familiar inmate of every haunt of licentious- ness in New York and London, should so completely have disrobed himself of his former ignoble qualities, that he should have suddenly assumed the characteristics of the wisest and noblest of the race ; and that he should have commenced a life utterly at variance, and indeed incongruous, with all that had preceded. France began to flourish beneath his vigorous and beneficent sway, as she had never flourished before. Public confidence was restored. Commerce and manufactures prospered. In- ternal faction was broken or at least became impotent and silent. The nation very soon reached a degree of prosperity such as it had never experienced, even under the gigantic scepter of the elder Napoleon. There was but one impediment in the way of the un- limited progress o* France toward national triumph and 368 CAUSES OF THE COUP D'ETAT. success. This impediment was found in the legislative body, the Chambers, which still possessed very consid- erahle power, which enabled its members to embarrass the president, to impede his operations, and very essen- tially to mould the measures of the government. The French peoj^le soon discovered that while all the plans of Louis Napoleon was characterized by much wise sagacity and benevolent wisdom, he was sorely clogged by the jealousy and obstinacy of the Chambers. The French people began, while their admiration for, and confidence in, the president increased, to conceive a growing con- tempt for the Chambers. They themselves wondered why the president did not by some sudden coup of ne- cessary and salutary violence, rid himself of the useless, and even pernicious weight ^\■hich harrassed and impeded him. They thought tliat Louis Napoleon would be per- fectly justified in takhig some such step ; and they were prepared to acquiesce in case his opinion and determina- tion coincided with their own conviction. In truth, his own position was becoming quite untenable. He was frequently loaded with the odium of injurious measures, for the adoption of which he was not in justice responsi- ble ; which he even detested ; and which he had put forth his utmost endeavors to defeat. In fact affairs had at length come to such a crisis, that either the French Chambers must be sujjpressed, and the factionists over- awed ; or Louis Napoleon must descend in ignominy from the high place which he had already proved himself so eminently worthy to fill. Such was the train of circumstances which brouo-ht on the necessity of the celebrated, and sometimes execrated, NECESSITY OF THE MEASURE. 369 coup d'etat of Louis Napoleon. Under the circumstances of the case, it ^\as a useful, an excusable, even an indis- pensable, and an unavoidable expedient. It saved France already so often and so sadly torn by internal strife and faction, by the ruinous hostility of parties, and by the frequent change of its forms of government, from the deadly fangs of anarchists, and political desperadoes ;_ and gave it the inestimable blessings of a settled, perma- nent and vigorous administration of affairs. That some blood must needs be shed in accomplishing this very great and important result, was to be expected. That a very considerable number of raving and selfish fanatics, whose interests and influence were ruined by the triumph of the president, would become frantic in his denuncia- tion, was according to the natural course of things. That even a very few innocent persons might be made to suf- fer by the casualties incident to the revolution, might also be possible. But that these minor evils were as nothing compared to the vast amount of good which a coup d^etat would effect, was unquestionable. The desperate diseases of the state, had evidently rendered the use of the most desperate remedies quite indispensable ; and no wise man would blame Louis Napoleon, if he yielded to the existing necessity, and employed such remedies in case his subse- quent treatment of the patient was judicious, benevolent and beneficial. Yielding to considerations such as these, Louis Napo- leon determined to accomplish his celebrated coiqy d'etat^ which took place on the 2d of December, 1851. The army was first converted to the convictions and purjjoses of the president. Early on the morning of that day all P* 24 370 INCIDENTS OF THE COUP D'ETAT. the most eminent and distinguished opponents of the president were arrested while still in theu- beds. When the Chambers met, they were expelled from their haU. The streets of Paris were filled with thousands of soldiers, who maintained peace and dispersed the crowds which were disposed to be resistive and riotous. Many were shot down by the military. If there were any unjustifia- ble acts committed by the agents of Napoleon, it was in the severity with which his troops executed his order's to fire into houses which seemed to contain persons hostile to the success of the movement. No doubt, many per- sons were injured, and some slain, who were totally inno- cent of any intention to participate in the events of the day. But even this misfortune, and this injustice, were evils inseperably connected with the accomplishment of the useful and desirable purposes of the movement. A few days ot terror and iincertainty were the necessary prelude to the long era of national security, prosperity and happiness, which has since ensued, as the result of the establishment of the power of Louis Napoleon on a per- manent basis. Three days sufficed to accomplish the difficult task of establishing the throne of Louis Napoleon throughout France. When the agitation subsided, some incidents which had occurred called forth the regret of the nation. The imprudence of the militaiv in the execution of their orders was the principal cause of this feehng. Thus for instance, M. Jollevard, a distinguished landscape painter was shot dead while quietly pursuing his artistic labors in his lodgings ; and the windows of the houses near him were all broken by the fusillades of the troops.* M *See "LondonTimes."of December 13th, 1851. NECESSARY LOSS OF LIFE. sll Brandus, another distinguished Parisian, very narrowly escaped death; and a servant of his was shot dead at his side, while standing in the private apartment of his mas- ter. Multitudes of dwellings were penetrated by balls in every direction ; and for the time being, the hves of their inmates were insecure. One of the most active agents of Louis Napoleon on this occasion, himself admits, that "aU obstacles were removed by merely running through them, and those who defended them were passed to the sword."* The public organ of the prince itself ad- mitted that " his troops had not spared one single insur- gent."f And yet the inhabitants of Paris had be5n pub- licly forewarned of the necessity of thek avoiding the public streets during the progress of the movement ; and if they chose to incur the risk of the dangers which im- pended, they were themselves to blame. On the 2d of December, Maupas, the prefect of poUce published a proc- lamation in which the events which were about to occur were predicted ; and every one was forewarned to avoid them. Said he: "Do not go on the Boulevards, for any gathering together of the people will be dispersed by force of arms, and without previous summons."J If, therefore, in the face of premonition so pubUc and so clear as this, a portion of the population of Paris persisted in traversing the streets, and if another portion of them obstinately gratified their curiosity by crowding the windows of sua- * Report of General Magnare oa the aflfray of December, Moni- tear, December 9th, 1851. \ Patrie, of December 6, 1851. :|;See P. Mager, Histoire due 2 Decembre, page 155. Also Mand- uit, RevolutioD Militaire,