■Li 
 
 IB 
 
 11 
 
 im 
 
THE 
 
 ^CAMPAIGNS 
 
 OP 
 
 NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE, 
 
 EMBRACING 
 
 THE EVENTS OF HIS UNEXAMPLED 
 MILITARY CAREER, 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 SIEGE OF TOULON TO THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO 
 
 ALSO, 
 
 THJg PERIOD FROM HIS ABDICATION OF THE THRONE, 
 
 TO 
 
 HIS FINAL IMPRISONMENT AND DEATH, 
 
 ON THE 
 
 ROCK OF ST. HELENA. 
 
 PREVIOUS TO WHICH 
 
 AN ACCOUNT OF THE 
 
 FRENCH REVOLUTION. 
 
 COMPILED FROM DISTINGUISHED AUTHORS. 
 BY AN AMERICAN. * 
 
 EMBELLISHED WITH PINE ENGBAVINCW. <^ 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY CHARLES GAYLORD 
 
 1840. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1834, by 
 
 CHARLES GAYLORD, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 rb 
 
 y s 
 
• 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 This work advances no greater claim to pub- 
 lic consideration than that of a compilation. In 
 the prosecution of his task, the compiler has made 
 numerous extracts from the works of Scott, Lock- 
 hart, Clarke, and other English authors, yet he has 
 avoided those comments upon the political charac- 
 ter and acts of Napoleon which evidently partake 
 of the national feelings and prejudices of those 
 writers. The design of this work is to give to the 
 reader a faithful narrative of those great military 
 operations, which agitated Europe for a period of 
 twenty years. The materials have been drawn 
 from sources that may be relied upon, and the 
 compiler has endeavored to arrange them so as to 
 present a comprehensive narrative of Napoleon's 
 military career, together with the most important 
 incidents of his private and political life, — leaving 
 to the reader the privilege of making his own com- 
 ments, and to history the task of doing justice to 
 the character of Napoleon. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Causes of the French Revolution. Meeting of the States General, May, 1789. 
 Predominant influence of the Third Estate. Formation of the National Assem- 
 bly. Destruction of the Bastile. Sacrifices made by the privileged classes. 
 Horrors of the civil war waged betwixt the rich and poor. Plan of the Demo- 
 crats to bring the King and Assembly to Paris. Mob of women march to Ver- 
 sailles, and compel the King and Royal Family to return with them to Paris. 
 La Fayette resolves to enforce order. A Baker murdered by the rabble. Decree 
 imposing Martial Law, in case of insurrection. General view of the operations 
 of the Assembly. Enthusiasm of the people for their new privileges 11 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Escape of Louis — he is captured and brought back to Paris. Riot in the Champ de 
 Mars. Legislative assembly— its party divisions. Views and sentiments of 
 foreign nations. France declares war. First results of the war. Insurrection 
 of the 20th June. Armed mob intrude into the Assembly— thence into the Tuil- 
 leries. La Fayette repairs to Paris — remonstrates in favor of the King. Mar- 
 seillois appear in Paris. The day of the 10th of August. Tocsin sounded early 
 in the morning. Swiss Guards. Mandat Assassinated. Conflict at the Tuille- 
 ries. Massacre of the Swiss Guards. Royal Family spend the night in a neigh- 
 boring Convent 30 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 La Fayette escapes from France, and is made prisoner by the Prussians. Charac- 
 ters of Danton, Robespierre and Marat. Great Massacre of Prisoners in Paris. 
 Murder of the Princess de Lamballe. The National Convention. The King 
 brought to Trial — sentence of Death pronounced — beheaded on 21st Jan. 1793. 
 — Maria Antoinette, on the 16th October, same year. Fate of the rest of the 
 Royal Family , 50 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Civil War of La Vendee. Vendean's Method of Fighting. Siege of Lyons— its 
 Surrender, and Dreadful Punishment. Reign of Terror. Revolutionary Tribu- 
 nal. Horrors perpetrated at Nantes. Assassination of Marat by Charlotte Cor- 
 day. Danton Condemned and Executed. CecileRegnaud. Fall of Robespierre 
 and return of Tranquillity. Ball of the Victims 61 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Corsica. Napoleon born, 1769. Sent to the Royal Military School. Appointed 
 Captain of Artillery. Siege of Toulon. Anecdotes during the siege. Allied 
 Troops resolve to Evacuate Toulon. Dreadful particulars of the Evacuation. 
 Napoleon appointed Chief of Battalion in the Army of Italy. Returns to France 
 and obtains command of the Troops of Paris. Marries. Appointed Commander- 
 in-Chief of the Italian Armies. Battle of Monte Notte. Terrible passage of the 
 Bridge of Lodi 75 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Armistice with the Pope. Arch-duke Charles enters Italv. Beaulieu succeeded 
 byWurmser. Battle of Areola. Victory of Rivoli. The" Pope breaks the Treaty. 
 Buonaparte orders Gen. Victor to invade the Papal Territories. Pope sues for 
 Peace. Victories of Buonaparte over the Austrians. Peace concluded 87 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Project of invading England— Abandoned. Expedition to Egypt. Capture of Al- 
 exandria. Skirmishes with the Mamelukes. Battle of the Pyramids. Battle 
 
vin CONTENTS. 
 
 of the Nile, and destruction of the French Fleet. Massacre of the Prisoners at 
 Jaffa. Plague breaks out in the French army. Napoleon's courage and human- 
 ity. Siege of St. Jean d'Acre. 18,000 Turks occupy Aboukir. Attacked and 
 Defeated by Buonaparte. This victoiy terminates Napoleon's career in Egypt.. 97 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 General rejoicing on the Return of Buonaparte. Political Revolution. Napoleon 
 appointed to command the Military Force. He enters the Council of Five Hun- 
 dred. His perilous situation. Napoleon chosen First Consul. He resolves to 
 bring back victory to the French Standards. Passes the Alps at Mont. St. 
 Bernard. The Van-guard takes possession of Aosta. Town of Bard captured. 
 Great Battle of Marengo, and complete Victory of the French. Napoleon 
 returns to Paris. An Armistice takes place— followed by a Treaty of Peace. ... 114 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Plot to assassinate Napoleon at the Opera House. Another attempt on his life by 
 means of the Infernal Machine. External Relations of France. Preparations 
 for invading England. Affairs of Egypt resumed. Kleber assassinated. British 
 Army lands in Egypt. Defeats of the French. Treaty of Peace concluded 
 between Great Britain and France 139 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Insurrection in St. Domingo. Horrible system of Warfare between the French 
 and Negroes. Buonaparte proceeds to consolidate his power at home. Consular 
 Guard and Legion of Honor. Renewal of the War with England. Hanover and 
 other places occupied by the French. Scheme of invading England continued. 
 Napoleon finally abandons the project 146 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Conspiracy against Napoleon. General Moreau sent into exile. Napoleon crowned 
 Emperor of the French — Crowned King of Italy. Genoa united to the Empire.. 155 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Napoleon addresses a Letter to the King of England. Alliance of Russia, Austria, 
 England, and Sweden against France. Napoleon heads his army in Germany. 
 Skilful manoeuvres of the French Generals, and successive losses of the Austrians. 
 Neutrality of Prussia violated. Mack is cooped up in Ulm. Surrenders to the 
 French on the 16th October, by which upwards of 20,000 men become prisoners 
 of war. Napoleon advances towards Vienna. The Emperor Francis leaves his 
 capital, and the French take possession of it. Successes of Massena in Italy, and 
 Ney, in the Tyrol. Battle of Austerlitz, and the combined armies of Austria 
 and Russia completely defeated. Treaty of Presburg 159 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Battle of Trafalgar, and death of Nelson. War with Prussia. Napoleon again 
 heads his army in the field. Naumberg taken. Battle of Jena, and of Auer- 
 stadt. The French victorious, and Napoleon enters Berlin. All the strong for- 
 tresses of Prussia surrendered to the French. Death of the Duke of Brunswick, 
 and vow of revenge taken by his son 173 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Napoleon welcomed with enthusiasm by the Poles. Enters Warsaw, and Bennig- 
 sen retreats before him. Character of the Russian Soldiery. The Cossacks. 
 Battle of Pultdsk. French go into winter quarters. Battle of Preuss 
 Eylau. Surrender of Dantzic. Both armies recruited. Battle of Heilsberg. 
 Battle of Friedlakd, on the 13th June, 1807, and defeat of the Russians. 
 Treaty of Tilsit 185 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Relations of Napoleon with Spain. Treaty of Fontainbleau. Junot marches to 
 Portugal. Flight of the Royal Family to America. French proceed into Spain. 
 Murat occupies Madrid. Charles and Ferdinand abdicate at Bayonne. Jo- 
 seph Buonaparte crowned King of Spain 302 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 Alliance of England with Spain and Portugal against France. Battle of Rioseco. 
 Joseph enters Madrid. Battle of Baylen. Dupont surrenders. Joseph quits 
 
CONTENTS. ix 
 
 Madrid. First siege of Saragossa. British troops land in Portugal. Battle of 
 Rorica. Battle of Vimiero. Convention of Cintra, and the French evacuate 
 Portugal. Napoleon at Erfurt. Interview with Alexander. Arrives at Paris. 
 Sends an army of 200,000 men into Spain. Arrives at Vittoria. Successes of 
 Soult. Napoleon enters Madrid. Marches against the British under Sir John 
 Moore. Calamitous retreat of the British. Battle of Corunna, and death of 
 Moore. Napoleon leaves Spain 210 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Austria declares War. Napoleon heads his army in Germany. Battle of Land- 
 shut and Eckmuhl. Ratisbon taken. Napoleon enters Vienna. Hostilities in 
 Italy, Hungary, Poland, the North of Germany and the Tyrol. Great Conflict at 
 Asperne. Both armies reinforced. Decisive Battle of Wagram, in which the 
 Austrians are completely defeated. Armistice concluded 224 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Progress of the war in the Peninsula. Battle of Talavera. Battle of Ocana. At- 
 tempt to assassinate Napoleon. Treaty of Schoenbrunn. Napoleon divorces Jose- 
 phine. Marries the Archduchess Maria Louisa. Deposes Louis Buonaparte and 
 annexes Holland and the whole coast of Germany to France. Bernadotte elected 
 Crown Prince of Sweden. Birth of the king of Rome 234 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Rupture with Russia. Great preparations on both sides for the approaching con- 
 flict. Amount of Buonaparte's army. Resources of Alexander. Napoleon at 
 Dresden. Passage of the Niemen. Arrives at Wilna. Enthusiasm of the Rus- 
 sians. Their army largely reinforced. Napoleon leaves Wilna. Battle of 
 Smolensko. Russians burn the place and retreat. Great Battle of Boromno. 
 Napoleon continues his advance. Moscow abandoned by the Russian Army, 
 and the Inhabitants 238 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Napoleon enters Moscow, and takes up his quarters in the Kremlin. The "Holy 
 City" plundered by the French and burnt by the Russians. Napoleon proposes 
 Peace. Alexander refuses to negotiate. Napoleon quits Moscow. Battles of Vin- 
 cova and Malo-Yaraslovetz. Retreat of the French Grand Army. Repeated 
 Defeats and Sufferings of the French. Smolensko. Krasnoi. Heroism of Ney. 
 Passage of the Beresina. Napoleon quits the Army. His arrival at Warsaw — 
 at Dresden — at Paris. Loss of the French Army, 450,000 men 252 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Napoleon's reception at Paris. His Military preparations. Prussia declares War. 
 Bernadotte lands in Germany. The Russians advance into Silesia. Napoleon 
 heads his Army in Saxony. Battle of Lutzen. Battle of Bautzen. Congress of 
 Prague. Austria declares War. Napoleon contends single-handed against Rus- 
 sia, Austria, Prussia, Sweden, England, Spain, and Portugal. Battle of Dres- 
 den. Death of Moreau. Singular Conflict at Culm 274 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 Battles of Wahlstadt, Grossbeeren, and Dennewitz. Napoleon retires from the 
 Elbe. Great Battle of Leifsic fought on the 16th and 18th Oct. 1813. French 
 retreat. Battle of Hanau. Allies on the Rhine. Napoleon arrives in Paris.... 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Manifesto of the Allied Sovereigns. Liberation of the Pope and Ferdinand VII. 
 Military preparations. Allies invade France with 300,000 men. Napoleon 
 head3 the Army. Battles of Brienne and La Rothiere. Defeats Blucher on the 
 Marne. Battles of Nangis and Montereau. Austrians retreat. Napoleon again 
 marches against Blucher. Battles of Craonne and Laon. Napoleon at Rheims 297 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 Energies of Napoleon. Operations of the Allies. Sufferings of the Peasantry. 
 Napoleon marches to St. Dizier. The Allies approach Paris. Proclamation of 
 Joseph. The Empress retires to Blois. Heroic but unavailing defence of the 
 Capital. Marmont capitulates. The Allies enter Paris. Napoleon at Fontain- 
 bleau. His Abdication. His parting Interview with the Imperial Guard. 
 Death of Josephine. Napoleon commences his Journey to Elba 309 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Napoleon arrives at Elba. His conduct and occupations there. Discontents in 
 France. French prisoners of War return home. Napoleon escapes from Elba, 
 and lands in France. His progress towards the Capital. Enthusiasm of the 
 Soldiery. King Louis escapes to Ghent. Napoleon enters Paris. Declaration of 
 the Allied Powers. Napoleon prepares for War. Murat advances from Naples 
 — He is Defeated, and subsequently condemned and Shot 327 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 Napoleon heads his Army on the Belgian frontier — Passes the Sambre at Chavleroi. 
 Defeats Blucher at Ligny. Battle of duatrebras. The English retreat on Water- 
 loo. Positions of the two Armies. Detailed account of the Great Battle op 
 Waterloo, fought on the 18th June, 1815 341 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Continuation of the History of the Campaign. Disastrous retreat of the French 
 from Waterloo. Slaughter at Genappe. French repass the Sambre. Narrow 
 escape of Napoleon. Appearance of the field of battle. Loss of the French— of 
 the Allies S61 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Napoleon arrives at Paris. State of France after the Battle of Waterloo. Wei 
 hngton and Blucher cross the Frontiers. Agitation of the Chambers. Napoleon 
 abdicates in favor of his son. Departs for Rochfort and attempts to sail for 
 America. Surrenders himself on board the Bellerophon to the British Govern- 
 ment. Napoleon arrives in England. Sails for St. Helena 368 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 Napoleon at St. Helena. The Briars. Longwood, his residence. Precautions 
 taken for his safe custody. Sir Hudson Lowe. Napoleon's domestic habits — 
 amusements and exercises. Sir Pultney Malcom. Interview with Capt. Basil 
 Hall 385 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Napoleon's Illness — cancer in the stomach. Removal of Las Cases from St. Hel- 
 ena. Treatment of Napoleon brought forward in Parliament. Symptoms of his 
 illness increase. Removal of Dr. O'Meara. Two Catholic Priests sent to St. 
 Helena. Napoleon's opinions on the subject of Religion. Dr. Antommarchi 
 arrives to supply the place of O'Meara. Plans for effecting Napoleon's escape. 
 Scheme of Johnstone the Smuggler. Disturbed state of Italy occasions fresh 
 vigilance. Disease increases. Napoleon employs himself in making his Will, 
 and gives directions respecting his Decease. Extreme unction administered to 
 him. His Death, 5th May, 1821. Body Anatomized. His Funeral 398 
 
 Concludi no Remakes 411 
 
 Appendix. — His Will i 
 
 Anecdotes , iv 
 
CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 Causes of the French Revolution. Meeting of the States-General, May 
 1789. Predominant influence of the Third Estate. Formation of the 
 National Assembly. Destruction of the Bastile. Sacrifices made by 
 the privileged classes. Horrors of the civil war waged betwixt the 
 rich and poor. Plan of the Democrats to bring the King and Assem- 
 bly to Paris. Mob of women march to Versailles, and compel the 
 King and Royal Family to return with them to Paris. La Fayette re- 
 solves to enforce order. A baker murdered by the rabble. Decree im- 
 posing martial law, in case of insurrection. General view of the opera- 
 tions of the Assembly. Enthusiasm of the people for their new privi- 
 leges. 
 
 Before we proceed to narrate the brilliant achievements of 
 Napoleon, it is* necessary, in the first place, briefly to review 
 that great and hitherto unheard of course of events which pre- 
 pared, carried on, and matured the French Revolution: — a 
 period of history the most important, perhaps, which the an- 
 nals of mankind afford. 
 
 After the peace concluded at Versailles in 1783, the state 
 of Europe in general was either pacific, or disturbed by trou- 
 bles of no long duration. But it was in France that a thou- 
 sand circumstances, some arising out of the general history of 
 the world, some peculiar to that country herself, mingled like 
 the ingredients of the witches' cauldron, to produce in suc- 
 cession many a formidable but passing apparition. 
 
12 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. i. 
 
 The first cause of the Revolution in France was the great 
 change which had taken place in the feelings of the French 
 towards their government, and the monarch who was at its 
 head. The devoted loyalty of the people had been for sev- 
 eral ages the most marked characteristic of the nation. — 
 Every true Frenchman submitted without scruple, to that 
 abridgement of personal liberty which appeared necessary to 
 render the monarch great, and France victorious. The same 
 feeling was awakened, after all the changes of the Revolu- 
 tion, by the wonderful successes of the individual of whom 
 the future pages are to treat, and who transferred to his own 
 person, by deeds almost exceeding credibility, the devoted 
 attachment with which France formerly regarded the ancient 
 line of her kings. 
 
 The necessity of a great change in the principles of the 
 ancient French monarchy had its source in the usurpations of 
 preceding kings over the liberties of the subject, and the op- 
 portunity for this change was afforded by the weakness and 
 pecuniary distresses of the present government. The origi- 
 nal movements of the Revolution, so far as they went to se- 
 cure the people the restoration of their natural liberty and the 
 abolition of the usurpations of the crown, had become not 
 only desirable, through the change of times, and by the influ- 
 ence of public opinion, but peremptorily necessary and inevi- 
 table. 
 
 The immediate, and most effective cause of the Revolu- 
 tion must be referred to the distresses of the people, and the 
 embarrassments of the government, occasioned by the enor- 
 mous expenses of the war in which France supported the in- 
 dependence of the American colonies. The profligacy of the 
 Court; the dissentions of the clergy; the gradual progress 
 of general intelligence; the dissemination of revolutionary 
 principles, occasioned by the American contest, and the long 
 established oppressions to which the mass of the people were 
 subjected, all contributed to the same effect, but in a subordi- 
 nate degree. It was not till the Court and the ministers were 
 reduced to the most desperate expedients of finance, and com- 
 pelled to court the favor, while they insulted the distresses of 
 the nation, that the latent dissatisfaction of the people was ex- 
 cited to activity, and terminated in the fury of revolution- 
 ary enthusiasm. Exhausted by oppression, irritated by the 
 continual presence of insulting tyranny, and unblushing licen- 
 tiousness, excited to resentment of their wrongs, and instruct- 
 ed in the knowledge of their rights, the people of France 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 13 
 
 awakened to one universal spirit of complaint and resistance. 
 The cry of liberty resounded from the capital to the frontiers, 
 and was reverberated to the Alps, the Pyrennees, the shores 
 of the Meditteranean and the Atlantic. Like all sudden, and 
 violent alterations in corrupt states, the explosion was accom- 
 panied by evils and attrocities, before which the crimes and 
 the miseries of the ancient despotism faded into insignifi- 
 cance. 
 
 On the first of May, 1789, after an interval of 175 years, 
 the States General of France met for the first time. It was 
 soon discovered that the Assembly was divided into various 
 descriptions of delegates, marshalled under their respective 
 chiefs and ready to combat their antagonists on the field of 
 political warfare. It likewise appeared that the Third Estate, 
 which in 1614, the Nobles had refused to acknowledge even 
 as a younger brother of their order, was now, like the rod of 
 the prophet, to swallow up all those who affected to share its 
 power. Even amid the pageantry with which the ceremonial 
 of the first sitting abounded, it was clearly visible that the 
 wishes, hopes and interest of the public, were exclusively fix- 
 ed upon the representatives of the commons. The rich gar- 
 ments and floating plumes of the nobility, and reverend robes 
 of the clergy, had nothing to fix the public eye; their sound- 
 ing and emphatic titles had nothing to win the ear; the recol- 
 lection of the highs feat of the one, and long sanctified char- 
 acter of the other order, had nothing to influence the mind 
 of the spectators. All eyes were turned on the members of 
 the Third Estate, in a plebeian and humble costume, corres- 
 ponding to their lowly birth and occupation, as the only 
 portion of the assembly from whom they looked for the lights 
 and the counsels which the time demanded. 
 
 Five or six weeks elapsed in useless debates concerning the 
 form in which the Estates should vote; during which period 
 the Tiers Etat showed, by their boldness and decision, that 
 they knew the advantage which they held, and were sensible 
 that the other bodies, if they meant to retain the influence of 
 their situation in any shape, must unite with them, on the 
 principle according to which smaller drops of water are at- 
 tracted by the larger. This came to pass accordingly. The 
 Tiers Etat were joined by the whole body of inferior clergy 
 and by some of the nobles, and on 17th June, 1739, proceed- 
 ed to constitute themselves a legislative body, exclusively 
 competent in itself to the entire province of legislation; and, 
 renouncing the name of the Third Estate, which reminded 
 
14 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, i- 
 
 them they were only one out of three bodies, they adopted 
 that of the National Assembly, and avowed themselves, not 
 merely the third branch of the representative body, but the 
 sole representatives of the people of France, nay, the peo- 
 ple themselves, wielding in person the whole gigantic powers 
 of the realm. The members took, and attested by their re- 
 spective signatures, a solemn oath, to continue their sittings 
 until the constitution of the country should be fixed on a solid 
 
 basis. 
 
 But the National Assembly, though almost unanimous in 
 resisting the authority of the crown, and opposing the claims 
 of the privileged classes, was much divided respecting ulteri- 
 or views, and carried in its bosom the seeds of internal dis- 
 sention, and the jarring elements of at least four parties, 
 which had afterwards their successive entrance and exit on the 
 revolutionary stage ; or rather one followed the other like suc- 
 cessive billows, each obliterating and destroying the marks its 
 predecessor had left on the beach. 
 
 The measures adopted by the court to defeat the designs of 
 its adversaries, and accomplish its own, were planned without 
 judgment and enforced without energy. Eleven of the foot- 
 guards were prosecuted for disobedience to orders, and were 
 liberated by the populace without incurring the infliction of 
 punishment for so outrageous a violation of the peace. The 
 disorderly state of the metropolis and the unfitness of the 
 guards for re-establishing tranquility, were advanced as osten- 
 sible reasons for collecting in the neighborhood of the capital 
 a considerable body of troops from various parts of the king- 
 dom. The citizens, determined to co-operate with the Na- 
 tional Assembly in the establishment of a free government in 
 opposition to the military force brought against them, formed 
 themselves into a regular militia, classed according to their 
 several sections, and amounting to 48,000 men. They after- 
 wards took the name of the National Guard and appointed 
 La Fayette commander in chief. 
 
 Some unknown individual, on the morning of the 14th of 
 July, after attracting the attention of the citizens, exclaimed, 
 " Let us take the Bastile." The name of this fortress, which 
 recalled to the memory of the people every thing hateful and 
 oppressive in the ancient despotism, operated with immediate 
 and irresistible effect. The cry of " To the Bastile," re- 
 sounded from rank to rank, from street to street, and from the 
 Palais Royal to the suburbs of St. Antoine. An army com- 
 posed of citizens and soldiers provided with pikes forged dur- 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 15 
 
 ing the night, and with muskets procured at the Invalids, was 
 immediately formed. The French guards were prevailed up- 
 on to join this motley crew, and the close order of their march, 
 their shining firelocks, their military appearance and their 
 cannon, while they exhibited a striking contrast to their party 
 colored allies, afforded the only reasonable hope of reducing 
 a fortress hitherto terrible to the Parisians, and which since 
 the time of Louis XI, had been accustomed to receive the 
 victims of royal despotism. Deputations from the Hotel de 
 Ville, an astonishing crowd in motion from the vicinity, a 
 body of armed men in front, and forces marching to their sup- 
 port from all parts of an immense capital, equally intimidated 
 and perplexed de Launey the governor, who sometimes par- 
 leyed and sometimes fought with the assailants. To the as- 
 tonishment of all military men, the Bastile, defended by ditch- 
 es apparently impassable, and to the towers and battlements 
 of which there seemed no access, was carried by storm after 
 an assault of two hours. De Launey the governor, was con- 
 veyed to the place de Greve, and instantly massacred. M. 
 de Losme the mayor, a man of great humanity, unhappily 
 shared a similar fate. The marquis of Pelleport was so deep- 
 ly penetrated with the kindness which the mayor had shown 
 him while a prisoner in the Bastile, that ardently clasping 
 him in his arms, he implored the people, in the most pathetic 
 manner, to spare the life of a friend to whom he was so deep- 
 ly indebted. But his supplications were unavailing. The 
 mayor's head was inhumanly severed from his body, and it 
 was with great difficulty that the generous marquis, a young 
 nobleman of rank and merit, escaped the same unmerited 
 doom. Kiegnart, a subaltern officer, who had prevented the 
 governor from setting fire to the magazine, was also killed, 
 and the whole garrison would have been sacrificed by the 
 populace, had it not been for the generous interposition of 
 the French guards, who implored and obtained mercy. The 
 populace now proceeded to insult and mutilate the remains of 
 the dead, and exhibited their heads on pikes, to the gaze of in- 
 sulting multitudes. The victorious Parisians, exploring the 
 gloomy dungeons of oppression, in expectation of delivering 
 numbers of unfortunate victims, found only seven captives, 
 four of whom were confined for forgery; so little was this 
 engine of tyranny employed under the mild and humane sway 
 of the reigning monarch. 
 
 The insurrection of Paris being acquiesced in by the so- 
 vereign, was recognised by the nation as a legitimate con- 
 
16 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, i 
 
 quest, instead of a state crime; and the tameness of the 
 king in enduring its violence, was assumed as a proof that 
 the citizens had but anticipated his intended forcible measures 
 against the Assembly, and prevented the military occupation 
 of the city. In the debates of the Assembly itself, the insur- 
 rection was vindicated; the fears and suspicions alleged as 
 its motives were justified as well-founded; the passions of the 
 citizens were sympathized with, and their worst excesses pal- 
 liated and excused. When the horrors accompanying the 
 murder of Berthier and Foulon were dillated upon by Lally 
 Tolendahl in the Assembly, he was heard and answered as if 
 he had made mountains out of mole-hills. Mirabeau said, 
 that " it was a time to think, and not to feel." Barnave ask- 
 ed, with a sneer, u If the blood which had been shed was so 
 pure?" Robespierre, rising into animation with acts of cruel- 
 ty fitted to call forth the interest of such a mind, observed, 
 that " the people, oppressed for ages, had a right to the re- 
 venge of a day." 
 
 But how long did that day last, or what was the fate of 
 those who justified its enormites? From that hour the mob 
 of Paris, or rather the suborned agitators by whom the ac- 
 tions of that blind multitude were dictated, became masters 
 of the destiny of France. An insurrection was organized 
 whenever there was any purpose to be carried, and the As- 
 sembly might be said to work under the impulse of the popu- 
 lar current, as mechanically as the wheel of a water engine 
 is driven by the cascade. 
 
 The king came, or was conducted to the Hotel de Ville of 
 Paris, in what compared to the triumph of the minister, was a 
 sort of ovation, in which he appeared rather as a captive than 
 otherwise. He entered into the edifice under a vault of steel, 
 formed by the crossed sabres and pikes of those who had been 
 lately engaged in combating his soldiers, and murdering his. 
 subjects. He adopted the cockade of the insurrection; and 
 in doing so, ratified and approved of the acts done expressly 
 against his command, acquiesced in the victory obtained over 
 his own authority, and completed that conquest by laying 
 down his arms. 
 
 The conquest of the Bastile was the first, almost the only 
 appeal to arms during the earlier part of the Revolution; and 
 the popular success, afterwards sanctioned by the monarch, 
 showed that nothing remained save the name of the ancient 
 government. 
 
 The conviction that the ancient monarchy of France had 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 17 
 
 fallen forever, gave encouragement to the numerous parties 
 which united in desiring a new constitution, although they dif- 
 fered on the principles on which it was to be founded. But 
 all agreed that it was necessary, in the first place, to clear 
 away the remains of the ancient state of things. They re- 
 solved upon the abolition of all feudal rights, and managed the 
 matter with so much address that it was made to appear on 
 the part of those who held them a voluntary surrender. The 
 debate in the National Assembly was turned by the popular 
 leaders upon the odious character of the feudal rights and 
 privileges, as being the chief cause of the general depression 
 and discontent in which the kingdom was involved. The no- 
 bles understood the hint which was thus given them, and an- 
 swered it with the ready courage and generosity which had 
 been at all times the attribute of their order, though some- 
 times these noble qualities have been indiscreetly exercised. 
 a Is it from us personally that the nation expects sacrifices?" 
 said the Marquis de Foucault; "be assured that you shall 
 not appeal in vain to our generosity. We are desirous to de- 
 fend to the last the rights of the monarchy, but we can be 
 lavish of our peculiar and personal interests." 
 
 The same general sentiment pervaded at once the Clergy 
 and Nobles, who, sufficiently sensible, that what they resigned 
 could not operate essentially to the quiet of the state, were 
 yet too proud to have even the appearance of placing their 
 own selfish interests in competition with the public welfare. — 
 The whole privileged classes seemed at once seized with a 
 spirit of the most lavish generosity, and hastened to despoil 
 themselves of all their peculiar immunities and feudal rights. 
 Clergy and laymen vied with each other in the nature and ex- 
 tent of their sacrifices. Privileges, whether prejudicial or 
 harmless, rational or ridiculous, were renounced in the mass. 
 A sort of delirium pervaded the Assembly; each member 
 strove to distinguish the sacrifices of his personal claims by 
 something more remarkable than had yet attended any of the 
 previous renunciations. They who had no rights of their 
 own to resign, had the easier and more pleasant task of sur- 
 rendering those of their constituents; the privileges of corpo- 
 rations, the monopolies of crafts, the rights of cities, were 
 heaped on the national altar; and the members of the Nation- 
 al Assembly seemed to look about in ecstacy, to consider of 
 what else they could despoil themselves and others. 
 
 There was one order in the kingdom which, although it had 
 joined largely and readily in the sacrifices of the 'day of dupes,' 
 
18 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. i. 
 
 was still considered as indebted to the state, and was doomed 
 to undergo an act of total spoliation. The Clergy had 
 agreed, and the Assembly had decreed on the 4th of August, 
 that the tithes should be declared redeemable, at a moderate 
 price, by the proprietors subject to pay them. This regula- 
 tion ratified, at least, the legality of the Clergy's title. Nev- 
 ertheless in violation of the public faith thus pledged, the 
 Assembly, three days afterwards, pretended that the surrender 
 of tithes had been absolute, and that, in lieu of that supposed 
 revenue, the nation was only bound to provide decently for 
 the administration of divine worship. The complaints of the 
 Clergy were listened to in contemptuous silence, or replied to 
 with bitter irony, by those who were conscious how little sym- 
 pathy that body were likely to meet with from the nation in 
 general, and who therefore spoke " as having power to do 
 wrong." 
 
 We must now revert to the condition of the kingdom of 
 France at large, while her ancient institutions were crumbling 
 to pieces of themselves, or were forcibly pulled down by state 
 innovators. That fine country was ravaged by a civil war of 
 aggravated horrors, waged betwixt the rich and poor, and 
 marked by every species of brutal violence. The peasants, 
 their minds filled with a thousand wild suppositions, and in- 
 censed by the general scarcity of provisions, were every- 
 where in arms, and everywhere attacked the chateaux of their 
 Seigneurs, whom they were incited to look upon as enemies 
 of the Revolution, and particularly of the commons. In most 
 instances they were successful, and burnt the dwellings of the 
 nobility, practising all the circumstances of rage and cruelty 
 to which the minds of barbarians are influenced. Men were 
 murdered in presence of their wives; wives and daughters 
 violated before the eyes of their husbands and parents; some 
 were put to death by lingering tortures; others by sudden 
 and general massacre. Against some of these unhappy gen- 
 tlemen, doubtless, the peasants might have wrongs to remem- 
 ber and to avenge; many of them, however, had borne their 
 faculties so meekly that they did not even suspect the ill in- 
 tentions of these peasants, until their castles and country-seats 
 kindled with the general conflagration, and made part of the 
 devouring element which raged through the whole kingdom. 
 What were the National Assembly doing at this dreadful cri- 
 sis? They were discussing the abstract doctrines of the 
 rights of man, instead of exacting from the subject the re- 
 spect due to his social duties 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 19 
 
 Yet a large party in the Convention, and who had hitherto 
 led ihe way in the paths of the Revolution, now conceived 
 that the goal was attained, and that it was time to use the 
 curb and forbear the spur; such was the opinion of La Fay- 
 ette and his followers, who considered the victory over the 
 Royalists as complete, and were desirous to declare the Revo- 
 lution ended, and erect a substantial form of government on 
 the ruins of monarchy, which lay prostrate at their feet. 
 
 But the various factions, all of which tended to democracy, 
 were determined upon manoeuvres for abating the royal authori- 
 ty, more actively powerful than those which the Assembly 
 dared yet to venture upon. For this purpose, all those who 
 desired to carry the Revolution to extremity, became desirous 
 to bring the sittings of the National Assembly and the resi- 
 dence of the king within the precincts of Paris, and to place 
 them under the influence of that popular frenzy which they 
 had so many ways of exciting, and which might exercise the 
 authority of terror over the body of representatives, fill the 
 galleries with a wild and tumultuous band of partisans, sur- 
 round their gates with an infuriated populace, and thus dictate 
 the issue of each deliberation. What fate was reserved for 
 the king, after incidents will sufficiently show. To effect an 
 object so important, the republican party strained every effort, 
 and succeeded in raising the popular ferment to the highest 
 pitch. 
 
 Their first efforts were unsuccessful. A deputation, formi- 
 dable from their numbers and clamorous violence, was about 
 to sally from Paris to petition, as they called it, for the remov- 
 al of the royal family and National Assembly to Paris, but 
 was dispersed by the address of La Fayette and Bailli. 
 
 A dreadful scarcity, amounting nearly to a famine, render- 
 ed the populace even more accessible than usual to desperate 
 counsels. The feasts, amid which the aristocrats were repre- 
 sented as devising their plots, seemed an insult on the public 
 misery. When the minds of the lowe* orders were thus pre- 
 judiced, it was no difficult matter to produce an insurrection. 
 That of the 5th of October, 1789, was of a singular de- 
 scription, the insurgents being chiefly of the female sex. — 
 The market women, Dames aux Halles, as they are called, 
 half unsexed by the masculine nature of their employments, 
 and entirely so by the ferocity of their manners, had figured 
 early in the Revolution, With these were allied and associ- 
 ated most of the worthless and barbarous of their own sex, 
 such disgraceful specimens of humanity as serve but to show 
 
20 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. i. 
 
 in what a degraded state it may be found to exist. Females 
 of this description began to assemble early in the morning in 
 large groups, with the cries for 4 ' bread," which so easily 
 rouse a starving metropolis. There were observed amongst 
 them many men disguised as women, and they compelled all 
 the females they met to go along with them. They marched 
 to the Hotel de Ville, broke boldly through several squadrons 
 of the National Guard, who were drawn up in front of that 
 building for its defence, and were with difficulty dissuaded 
 from burning the records it contained. They next seized a 
 magazine of arms, with three or four pieces of cannon, and 
 were joined by a miscellaneous rabble, armed with pikes, 
 scytkes and similar instruments, who called themselves the 
 conquerors of the Bastile. The still increasing multitude 
 re-echoed the cry of " Bread, bread! to Versailles! to Ver- 
 sailles!" 
 
 The National Guard were now called out in force, but 
 speedily showed their officers that they too were infected with 
 the humour of the times, and as much indisposed to subordi- 
 nation as the mob, to disperse which they were summoned. — 
 La Fayette put himself at their head, not to give his own, but 
 to receive their orders. They refused to act against women, 
 who, they said, were starving, and in their turn demanded to 
 be led to Versailles, to dethrone, — such was their language, 
 u the king, who was a driveller, and place the crown on the head 
 of his son." La Fayette hesitated, implored and explained; 
 but he had as yet to learn the situation of a revolutionary 
 general. " Is it not strange," said one of his soldiers, who 
 seemed quite to understand the military relation of officer 
 and private on such an occasion, " Is it not strange that La 
 Fayette pretends to command the people, when it is his part 
 to receive orders from them?" 
 
 Soon afterwards an order arrived from the Assembly of the 
 Commune of Paris, enjoining the commandant's march, upon 
 his own report that it was impossible to withstand the will of 
 the people. He marched accordingly in good order, and at 
 the head of a large force of the National Guard, about four 
 or five hours after the departure of the mob, who were al- 
 ready far on their way to Versailles. 
 
 The female battalion, together with their masculine allies, 
 continued their march uninterruptedly, and entered Versailles 
 in the afternoon, singing patriotic airs, intermingled with 
 blasphemous obscenities, and the most furious threats against 
 the Queen. Their first visit was to the National Assembly, 
 
 ! 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 21 
 
 where the beating of drums, shouts, shrieks and a hundred 
 confused sounds, interrupted the deliberations. A man called 
 Malliard, brandishing a sword in his hand, and supported by a 
 woman holding a long pole, to which was attached a tambour 
 de basque, commenced a harangue in the name of the sove- 
 reign people. He announced that they wanted bread ; that they 
 were convinced the ministers were traitors; that the arm of 
 the people was uplifted, and about to strike; — with much to 
 the same purpose, in the exaggerated eloquence of the penod. 
 The same sentiments were echoed by his followers, mingled 
 vith the bitterest threats, against the Queen in particular, 
 that fury could contrive, expressed in language of the most 
 energetic brutality. 
 
 The Amazons then crowded into the Assembly, mixed them- 
 selves with the members, occupied the seat of the president, 
 of the secretaries, produced or procured victuals and wine, 
 drank, sung, swore, scolded, screamed, — abused some of the 
 members and loaded others with their loathsome caresses. 
 
 A deputation of these mad women was at length sent to St. 
 Priest, the minister, a determined royalist, who received them 
 sternly, and replied to their demand of bread, "When you 
 had but one king, you never wanted bread — you now have 
 twelve hundred — go ask it of them." They were introduced 
 to the king however, and were so much struck with the kind 
 interest which he took in the state of Paris, that their hearts 
 relented in his favor, and the deputies returned to their con- 
 stituents, shouting Vive le Roi! 
 
 Had the tempest depended on the more popular breeze, it 
 might now have been lulled to sleep; but there was a secret 
 groundswell, a heaving upwards of the bottom of the abyss, 
 which could not be conjured down by the awakened feelings 
 or convinced understandings of the deputation. A cry was 
 raised that the deputies had been bribed to represent the king 
 favourably; and in this humour of suspicion, the army of 
 Amazons stripped their garters for the purpose of strangling 
 their own delegates. They had by this time ascertained, that 
 neither the National Guard of Versailles, nor the regiment of 
 Flanders, would oppose them by force, and that they had only 
 to deal with the Gardes du Corps, who dared not to act with 
 vigour, lest they should provoke a general attack on the pal- 
 ace, while the most complete distraction and indecision reigned 
 within its precincts. Bold in consequence, the female mob 
 seized on the exteror avenues of the palace, and threatened 
 destruction to all within. 
 
22 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.i, 
 
 It was now night, and the armed rabble of both sexes show- 
 ed no intention of departing or breaking up. On the contra- 
 ry, they bivouacked after their own manner upon the parade 
 where the soldiers usually mustered. There they kindled 
 large fires, ate, drank, sung, caroused and occasionally dis- 
 charged their fire-arms. Scuffles arose from time to time 
 and one or two of the Gardes du Corps had been killed and 
 wounded in the quarrel, which the rioters had endeavored to 
 fasten on them; besides which, this devoted corps had sustain- 
 ed a volley from their late guests, the National Guard of Ver- 
 sailles. The horse of a Garde du Corps, which fell into the 
 hands of these female demons, was killed, torn in pieces and 
 eaten half raw and half roasted. Every thing seemed tend- 
 ing to a general engagement, when late at night the drums 
 announced the approach of La Fayette at the head of his civ- 
 ic army, which moved slowly, but in good order. 
 
 The presence of this great force seemed to restore a por- 
 tion of tranquility, though no one seemed to know with cer- 
 tainty how it was likely to act. La Fayette had an audience 
 of the king, explained the means he had adopted for the secu- 
 rity of the palace, recommended to the inhabitants to go to 
 rest; he also visited the Assembly, pledged himself for the 
 safety of the royal family and the tranquility of the night and 
 with some difficulty, prevailed on the President, Mounier to 
 adjourn the sitting, which had been voted permanent. 
 
 A band of the rioters found means to penetrate into the pal- 
 ace about three in the morning, through a g^ate which was left 
 unlocked and unguarded. They rushed to the queen's apart- 
 ment, and bore down the few Gardes du Corps who hastened 
 to her defence. The sentinel knocked at the door of her bed 
 chamber, called to her to escape, and then gallantly exposed 
 himself to the fury of the murderers. His single opposition 
 was almost instantly overcome, and he himself left for dead 
 Over his bleeding body they forced their way into the queen's 
 apartment; but their victim, reserved for further and worse 
 woes, had escaped by a secret passage into the chamber of 
 the king while the assassins, bursting in, stabbed the bed she 
 had just left, with pikes and swords. 
 
 The Gardes du Corps assembled in what was called the 
 Oeil de Bceuf, and endeavored there to defend themselves- 
 but several, unable to gain this place of refuge, were dragged 
 down into the court-yard, where a wretch, distinguished by a 
 long beard, a broad bloody axe, and a species of armour 
 which he wore on his person, had taken on himself, by taste 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 23 
 
 and choice, the office of executioner. The strangeness of 
 the villain's costume, the sanguinary relish with which he dis- 
 charged his office, and the hoarse roar with which from time 
 to- time he demanded new victims, made him resemble some 
 demon whom hell had vomited forth to augment the wicked- 
 ness and horror of the scene! 
 
 Two of the Gardes du Corps were already beheaded, and 
 the Man with the Beard was clamorous to do his office upon 
 the others who had been taken, when La Fayette arrived at 
 the head of a body of grenadiers of the old French guards, 
 who had been lately incorporated with the civic guard, and 
 were probably the most efficient part of his force. 
 
 They cleared, and with perfect ease, the court of the pal- 
 ace from these bands of murderous bacchantes and their 
 male associates. The outside of the palace was still besieg- 
 ed by the infuriated mob, who demanded with hideous cries, 
 and exclamations the most barbarous and obscene, to see the 
 Austrian, as they called the queen. The unfortunate Prin- 
 cess appeared on the balcony with one of her children in 
 each hand. A voice from the crowd called out, "No chil- 
 dren!" as if on purpose to deprive the mother of that appeal 
 to humanity, which might move the hardest heart. Marie An- 
 toinette, with a force of mind worthy of Maria Theresa, her 
 mother,pushed her children back into the room, and turning 
 her face to the tumultuous multitude, which tossed and roared 
 beneath, brandishing their pikes and guns with the wildest 
 attitudes of rage, the reviled, persecuted and denounced queen 
 stood before them, her arms folded on her bosom, with a no- 
 ble air of courageous resignation. The secret reason of this 
 summons— the real cause of repelling the children— could 
 only be to afford a chance of some desperate hand among the 
 crowd executing the threats which resounded on all sides.— 
 Accordingly, a gun was actually levelled, but one of the by- 
 standers struck it down; for the passions of the mob had ta- 
 ken an opposite turn, and astonished at Marie Antoinette's no- 
 ble presence, and graceful demeanour, there arose almost in 
 spite of themselves, a general shout of Vive la Reine! 
 
 But if the insurgents, or rather those who prompted them, 
 missed their first point, they did not also lose their second. — 
 A cry arose, " To Paris!" at first uttered by a solitary voice, 
 but gathering strength, until the whole multitude shouted, 
 "To Paris— To Paris!" The cry of these blood-thirsty 
 bacchanals, such as they had that night shown themselves, 
 was, it seems, considered as the voice of the people. 
 
24 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, i 
 
 The carriages of the royal family were placed in the middle 
 of an immeasurable column, consisting partly of La Fay- 
 ette's soldiers, partly of the revolutionary rabble whose march 
 had preceded his, amounting to several thousand men and wo- 
 men, of the lowest and most desperate description, interming- 
 ling in groups amongst the bands of French guaids and civic 
 soldiers, whose discipline could not enable them to preserve 
 even a semblance of order. Thus they rushed along, howl- 
 ing their songs of triumph. The harbingers of the march 
 bore the two bloody heads of the Gardes du Corps paraded 
 on pikes, at the head of the column, as the emblems of their 
 prowess and success. The rest of this body, worn down by 
 fatigue, most of them despoiled of their arms, and many with- 
 out hats, anxious for the fate of the royal family, and harrass- 
 ed with apprehensions for themselves, were dragged like cap- 
 tives in the midst of the mob, while the drunken females 
 around them bore aloft in triumph their arms, their belts and 
 their hats. These wretches, stained with the blood in which 
 they had bathed themselves, were now singing songs, of which 
 the burthen bore, — " We bring you the baker, his wife, and 
 the little apprentice;" as if the presence of the unhappy roy- 
 al family, with the little power they now possessed, had even 
 in itself a charm against scarcity. Some of these Amazons 
 rode upon the cannon, which made a formidable part of the 
 procession. Many of them were mounted on the horses of 
 the Gardes du Corps, some in masculine fashion, others en 
 croupe. All the muskets and pikes which attended this im- 
 mense cavalcade, were garnished, as if in triumph, with oak 
 boughs, and the women carried long poplar branches in their 
 hands, which gave the column, so grotesquely composed in 
 every respect, the appearance of a moving grove. Scarce a 
 circumstance was omitted which could render this entrance 
 into the capital more insulting to the king's feelings — more 
 degrading to the royal dignity. 
 
 After six hours of dishonor and agony, the unfortunate 
 Louis was brought to the Hotel de Ville, where Bailli, then 
 mayor, complimented him upon the " beau jour," the " splen- 
 did day," which restored the monarch of France to his capi- 
 tal; assured him that order, peace and all the gentler virtues, 
 were about to revive in the country under his royal eye. 
 
 His wounds salved with this lip-comfort, the unhappy and 
 degraded Prince was at length permitted to retire to the Pal- 
 ace of the Tuilleries, which, long uninhabited, and almost un- 
 furnished, yawned upon him lrke the tomb where alone he at 
 jength found repose. 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 25 
 
 All the serious parties found their account, more or less in 
 this state of the royal person, excepting the pure royalists whose 
 effective power was little, and their comparative numbers few. 
 There remained, indeed, attached to the person and cause of 
 Louis, a party of those members, who, being friends to free- 
 dom, were no less so to regulated monarchy, and who desired 
 to fix the throne on a firm and determined basis. But their 
 
 numbers were daily thinned, and their spirits were broken. 
 
 The excellent Mounier, and the eloquent Lally Tolendhal 
 emigrated after the 9th of October, unable to endure the re- 
 petition of such scenes as were then exhibited. The indig- 
 nant adieus of the latter to the National Assembly, were 
 thus forcibly expressed: — 
 
 " It is impossible for me, even my physical strength alone 
 considered, to discharge mv functions amidst the scenes we 
 have witnessed. Those heads borne in trophy; that Queen 
 half assassinated; that King dragged into Paris by troops of 
 robbers and assassins; the 'splendid day' of Monsieur Bailli; 
 the jests of Barnave, when blood was floating around us; 
 Mounier escaping, as if by miracle, from a thousand assas- 
 sins; these are the causes of my oath never to enter that den 
 of cannibals. A man may endure a single death; he may 
 brave it more than once, when the loss of life can be useful 
 but no power under Heaven shall induce me to suffer a thou- 
 sand tortures every passing minute— while I am witnessing 
 the progress of cruelty— the triumph of guilt— which I must 
 witness without interrupting it. They may proscribe my per- 
 swHHhey may confiscate my fortune— I will labour the earth 
 for my bread, and I will see them no more." 
 
 The Constitutional party, or those who desired a democrati- 
 cal government with a King at its head, had reason to hope 
 that Louis, being in Paris, must remain at their absolute dis- 
 posal, separated from those who might advise counter-revolu- 
 tionary steps, and guarded only by national troops, embodied 
 in the name, and through the powers of the Revolution.— 
 Every day, indeed, rendered Louis more dependent on La 
 Fayette and his friends, as the only force which remained to 
 preserve order; for he soon found it a necessary, though a 
 cruel measure to disband his faithful Gardes du Corps, and 
 that perhaps as much with a view to their safety as to his 
 own. J 
 
 The Constitutional party seemed strong both in numbers 
 and reputation. La Fayette was commandant of the Nation- 
 al Guards, and they looked up to him with that homage and 
 
26 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, i 
 
 veneration with which young troops, and especially of this 
 description, regard a leader of experience and bravery, who, 
 in accepting the command, seems to share his laurels with the 
 citizen. 
 
 La Fayette resolved to enforce order by some bold and suc- 
 cessful attacks upon the revolutionary right of insurrection, 
 through which the people of late had taken on themselves the 
 office of judges at once and executioners. This had hitherto 
 been thought one of the sacred privileges of the Revolution; 
 but determined to set bounds to its further progress, La Fay- 
 ette resolved to restore the dominion of the law over the will 
 of the rabble. 
 
 A large mob, in virtue of the approbation, the indulgence 
 at least, with which similar frolics had been hitherto treated, 
 had seized upon and hanged an unhappy baker, who fell un- 
 der their resentment as a public enemy, because he sold bread 
 dear when he could only purchase grain at an enormous price. 
 They varied the usual detail with some additional circumstan- 
 ces, causing many of his brethren in trade to salute the 
 bloody head, which they paraded according to their wont; and 
 finally, by pressing the dead lips to those of the widow, as 
 she lay fainting before them. This done, and in the full con- 
 fidence of impunity, they approached the hall of the Assem- 
 bly, in order to regale the representatives of the people with 
 the same edifying spectacle. 
 
 The baker being neither an aristocrat nor nobleman, the 
 authorities ventured upon punishing the murder, without fear- 
 ing the charge of incivisme. La Fayette at the head of a de- 
 tachment of the National Guards, attacked and dispersed the 
 assassins, and the active citizen who carried the head was 
 tried, condemned and hanged, just as if there had been no 
 revolution in the kingdom. There was much surprise at this, 
 as there had been no such instance of severity since the day 
 of the Bastile. This was not all. 
 
 La Fayette, who may now be considered as at the head of 
 affairs, had the influence and address to gain from the Assem- 
 bly a decree, empowering the magistracy, in case of any ri- 
 sing, to declare martial law by displaying a red flag; after 
 which signal, those who refused to disperse should be dealt 
 with as open rebels. This edict, much to the purpose of the 
 British Riot Act, did not pass without opposition, as it ob- , 
 viously tended to give the bayonets of the National Guard a 
 decided ascendancy over the pikes and clubs of the rabble of 
 the suburbs. The Jacobins, meaning the followers of Marat, 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. ^7 
 
 Robespierre and Danton, and even the Republicans, or Bris- 
 sotines, had hitherto considered these occasional insurrections 
 and murders like affairs of posts in a campaign, in which they 
 themselves had enjoyed uniformly the advantage;' but while 
 La Fayette was followed and obeyed by the National Guard, 
 men of substance, and interested in maintaining order, it was 
 clear that he had both power and will to stop in future, these 
 revolutionary excesses. 
 
 This important advantage in some degree balanced the pow- 
 er which the republican and revolutionary party had acquired. 
 These predominated, as has been already said, in the Club of 
 Jacobins, in which they reviewed the debates of the Assem- 
 bly, denouncing at their pleasure those who opposed them; 
 but they had besides a decided majority among the daily at- 
 tendants in the tribunes, who, regularly paid and supplied 
 with food and liquors, filled the Assembly with their clamours 
 of applause or disapprobation, according to the rules they 
 had previously received. It is true, the hired auditors gave 
 their voices and applause to those who paid them, but never- 
 theless they had party feelings of their own, which often dic- 
 tated unbought suffrages, in favor of those who used the most 
 exaggerated tone of revolutionary fury. They shouted with 
 sincere and voluntary zeal for such men as Marat, Robes- 
 pierre and Danton, who yelled out for t'he most bloody meas- 
 ures of terror and proscription, and proclaimed war against 
 the nobles with the same voice with which they flattered the 
 lowest vices of the multitude. 
 
 There was one order yet remained which was to be levell- 
 ed, — the destruction of the Church was still to be accomplish- 
 ed; and the Republican party proceeded in the work of de- 
 molition with infinite address, by including the great object 
 in a plan for restoring finance, and providing for the expenses 
 of the state, without imposing further burthens on the people. 
 They assumed for the benefit of the public the whole right of 
 property belonging to the Church of France. 
 
 As it was impossible to bring these immense subjects at 
 once to sale, the Assembly adopted a system of paper-money, 
 called Assignats, which were secured or hypothecated upon 
 thexhurch-lands. It must be admitted these supplies enabled 
 the National Assembly not only to avoid the gulf of general 
 1-ankruptcy, but to dispense with many territorial exactions 
 which pressed-faard upon the lower orders, and to give relief 
 and breath to that most useful portion of the community. 
 Victorious at«once over altar and throne, mitre and coronet, 
 
28 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap i 
 
 King, Nobles and Clergy, the National Assembly seemed in 
 fact to possess and to exert that omnipotence, which has been 
 imputed to the British Parliament. Never had any legisla- 
 ture made such extensive and sweeping changes, and never 
 were such changes so easily accomplished. The nation was 
 altered in all its relations; its flag and its emblems were chang- 
 ed — every thing of a public character was destroyed and re- 
 placed, down to the very title of the sovereign, who, no long- 
 er termed King of France and Navarre, was now called King 
 of the French. The names and divisions of the provinces, 
 which had existed for many years, were at once obliterated, 
 and were supplied by a geographical partition of the territory 
 into eighty-three departments, subdivided into six hundred 
 districts, and these again portioned out into forty-eight thou- 
 sand communities or municipalities. By thus recasting as it 
 were the whole geographical relations of the separate territo- 
 ries of which France consisted, the Abbe Sieyes designed to 
 obliterate former recollections and distinctions, and to bring 
 every thing down to the general level of liberty and equality. 
 The Parliaments of France, long the strong-holds of liber- 
 ty, now perished unnoticed, as men pull down old houses to 
 clear the ground for modern edifices. The sale of offices of 
 justice was formally abolished; the power of nominating the 
 judges was taken from the crown; the trial by jury, with in- 
 quests of accusation and conviction, corresponding to the 
 grand and petty juries of England, were sanctioned and estab- 
 lished. In thus clearing the channels of public justice, dread- 
 fully clogged as they had become during the decay of the 
 monarchy, the National Assembly rendered the greatest pos- 
 sible services to France, the good effects of which will long 
 be felt 
 
 The National Assembly also recognised the freedom of the 
 press; and in doing so, conferred on the nation a gift fraught 
 with much good and some evil, capable of stimulating the 
 worst passions, and circulating the most atrocious calumnies, 
 and occasioning frequently the most enormous deeds of cruel- 
 ty and injustice; but ever bearing along with it the means of 
 curing the evils caused by its abuses, and of transmitting to 
 futurity the sentiments of the good and the wise, so invalua- 
 ble when the passions are silenced, and the calm slow voice 
 of reason and reflection comes to obtain a hearing. The 
 press stimulated massacres and proscriptions during the fright- 
 ful period which we are approaching; but the press has also 
 held up to horror the memory of the perpetrators, and expos- 
 
Chap, i.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 29 
 
 ed the artifices by which the actors were instigated. It is a 
 rock on which a vessel may be, indeed, and is often wrecked; 
 but that same rock affords the foundation of the brightest and 
 noblest beacon. 
 
 Faithful to their plan of forming not a popular monarchy, 
 but a species of royal republic, and stimulated by the real re- 
 publicans, whose party was daily gaining ground among their 
 ranks, as well as by the howls and threats of* those violent 
 and outrageous demagogues, who, from the seats they had 
 adopted in the Assembly were now known by the name of 
 the Mountain, the framers of the Constitution had rendered 
 it democratical in every point, and abridged the royal authori- 
 ty, till its powers became so dim and obscure as to merit 
 Burke's happy illustration, when he exclaimed, speaking of 
 the new-modelled . rench government, - 
 
 " What seem'd its head, 
 
 The likeness of a kingly crown had on." 
 
 The crown was deprived of all appointments to civil offices, 
 which were filled up by popular elections, the Constitutional- 
 ists being in this respect faithful to their own principles, which 
 made the will of the people the source of all power. Never 
 was such an immense patronage vested in the body of any 
 nation at large, and the arrangement was politic in the imme- 
 diate sense, as well as in conformity with the principles of 
 those who adopted it; for it attached to the new Constitution 
 the mass of the people, who felt themselves elevated from 
 villanage into the exercise of sovereign power. 
 
 Called to the execution of these high duties, which hither- 
 to they had never dreamed of, the people at large became 
 enamoured of their own privileges, carried them into every 
 department of society, and were legislators and debaters in 
 season and out of season. The exercise even of the exten- 
 sive privilege committed to them, seemed too limited to these 
 active citizens. The Revolution appeared to have turned the 
 heads of the whole lower classes, and those who had hitherto 
 thought least of political rights, were now seized with the fu- 
 ry of deliberating, debating and legislating, in all possible 
 times and places. The soldiers on guard debated at the Ora- 
 toire — the journeyman tailors held a popular assembly at the 
 Colonnade — the peruke-makers met at the Champs-Elysees. 
 In spite of the opposition of the National Guard, three thou- 
 sand shoemakers deliberated on the price of shoes in the 
 Place Louis Quinze; every house of call was converted into 
 
30 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. ii. 
 
 the canvassing hall of a political body; and France for a time 
 presented the singular picture of a country, where every one 
 was so much involved in public business, that he had little 
 leisure to attend to* his own. 
 
 There was, besides, a general disposition to assume and 
 practise the military profession; for the right of insurrection 
 having been declared sacred, each citizen was to be prepared 
 to discharge effectually so holy a duty. The citizens procured 
 muskets to defend their property — the rabble obtained pikes 
 to invade that of others — the people of every class every- 
 where possessed themselves of arms, and the most peaceful 
 burgesses were desirous of the honors of the epaulette. The 
 children, with mimicry proper to their age, formed battalions 
 on the streets, and the spirit in which they were formed was 
 intimated by the heads of cats borne upon pikes in front of 
 the juvenile revolutionists. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 Escape of Louis — he is captured and brought back to Paris. Riot in the 
 Champ de Mars. Legislative Assembly — its party divisions. Viewa 
 and sentiments qf foreign nations. France declares war. First results 
 of the war. Insurrection of the 20th June. Armed mob intrude into 
 the Assembly — thence into the Tuilleries. La Fayette repairs to Paris 
 — remonstrates in favor of the King. Marseillois appear in Paris. — 
 The day of the 10th of August. Tocsin sounded early in the morning. 
 Swiss Guards. Mandat assassinated. Conflict at the Tuilleries. Mas- 
 sacre of the Swiss Guards. Royal Family spend the night in a neigh- 
 boring Convent. 
 
 Small as was the share of public power which the new 
 Constitution of France afforded to the Crown, Louis, in out- 
 ward semblance at least, appeared satisfied. He went, ap- 
 parently freely and voluntarily, down to the National Assem- 
 bly, and, in a dignified and touching speech, (could it have 
 been thought a sincere one,) accepted the Constitution, made 
 cemmon cause with the regenerated nation, and declared him- 
 self the head of the Revolution. Constrained as he was by 
 circumstances, anxious for his own safety, and that of his 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 31 
 
 family, the conduct of Louis must not be too severely criticis- 
 ed; but this step was unkingly as well as impolitic; and the 
 unfortunate monarch gained nothing by abasing himself to 
 the deceit which he practised at the urgency of his ministers, 
 excepting the degradation attending a deception, by which 
 none are deceived. No one, when the Tieat of the first enthu- 
 siasm was over, gave the King credit for sincerity in his ac- 
 ceptance of the Constitution; the Royalists were revolted, 
 and the Revolutionists could only regard the speech and ac- 
 cession as the acts of royal hypocrisy. Louis was openly 
 spoken of as a prisoner; and the public voice, in a thousand 
 different forms, announced that his life would be the penalty 
 of any attempt to his deliverance. 
 
 Meanwhile, the King endeavored to work out his escape 
 from Paris and the Revolution at once, by the means of two 
 separate agents in whom alone he confided. 
 
 The history of the unhappy journey to Varennes is well 
 known. On the night between the 19th and 20th of August, 
 Louis and his Queen, with their two children, attended by one 
 lady, and escorted by three gentlemen of the Gardes du 
 Corps, set out in disguise from Paris. The King left behind 
 him a long manifesto, inculpating the Assembly for various 
 political errors, and solemnly protesting against the acts of 
 government to which he had been compelled, as he stated, to 
 give his assent, during what he termed his captivity, which 
 he seemed to have dated from his compulsory residence in 
 the Tuilleries. 
 
 The very first person whom the Queen encountered in the 
 streets was La Fayette himself, as he crossed the Place du 
 Carousel. A hundred other dangers attended the route of 
 the unfortunate fugitives, and the hair-breadth escapes by 
 which they profited, seemed to intimate the favor of fortune, 
 while they only proved her mutability. 
 
 An escort placed for them at the Pont du Sommeville, had 
 been withdrawn, after their remaining at that place for a time 
 had excited popular suspicion. At Saint Menehould they met 
 a small detachment of dragoons, stationed there by Bouille 
 also for their escort. But while they halted to change horses, 
 the King, whose features were remarkable, was recognised by 
 Drouet, a son of the postmaster. The young man was a keen 
 Revolutionist, and resolving to prevent the escape of the sov- 
 ereign, he mounted a horse and pushed forward to Varennes 
 to prepare the municipality for the arrival of the King. 
 
 He reached Varennes, and found a ready disposition to 
 
32 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.ii. 
 
 stop the flight of the unhappy prince. The King was stopped 
 at Yarennes and arrested; the National Guards were called 
 out — the dragoons refused to fight in the King's defence — an 
 escort of hussars, who might have cut a passage, arrived too 
 
 late, acted with reluctance, and finally deserted the town. 
 
 The unfortunate Louis was brought back to Paris. He was 
 with his wife and children, covered with dust, dejected with 
 sorrow, and exhausted with fatigue. The faithful Gardes du 
 Corps who had accompanied their flight, sate bound like felons 
 on the driving seat of the carriage. His progress was at 
 first silent and unhonored. The guard did not present arms — 
 
 the people remained covered — no man said God bless him. 
 
 At another part of the route, a number of the rabble precipitat- 
 ed themselves on the carriage, and it was with the utmost dif- 
 ficulty that the National Guards, and some deputies, could as- 
 sure it a safe passage. Under such auspices were the royal 
 family committed once more to their old prison of the Tuil- 
 leries. 
 
 Meantime the crisis of the King's fate seemed to be ap- 
 proaching. It was not long ere the political parties had an 
 opportunity of trying their respective force. A meeting was 
 held upon the motion of the Republican and Jacobinical lead- 
 ers in the Champ de Mars, to subscribe a petition for the de- 
 thronement of the King, couched in the boldest and broadest 
 terms. There was in this plain a wooden edifice raised on 
 scaffolding, called the Altar of the Country, which had been 
 erected for the ceremony of the Federation of 14th July, 
 1790, when the assembled representatives of the various de- 
 partments of France took their oath to observe the Constitu- 
 tion. On this altar the petition was displayed for signature* 
 but each revolutionary act required a preliminary libation of 
 blood, and the victims on this occasion were two wretched 
 invalids, whom the rabble found at breakfast under the scaf- 
 folding which supported the revolutionary altar, and accused 
 of a design to blow up the patriots. To accuse was to con- 
 demn. They were murdered without mercy, and their heads, 
 paraded on pikes, became as usual the standards of the insur- 
 gent citizens. The municipal officers attempted to disperse 
 the assemblage, but to no purpose. Bailli, mayor of Paris, 
 together with La Fayette, resolved to repel force by force; 
 martial law was proclaimed, and its signal, the red flag, was 
 displayed from the Hotel de Ville. La Fayette, with a body 
 of grenadiers, arrived in the Champ % de Mars. He was re- 
 ceived with abuse and execrations of " Down with La Fay- 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 33 
 
 ette! Down with martial law!" followed by a volley of stones. 
 The commandant gave orders to fire, and was on this occa- 
 sion most promptly obeyed; for the grenadiers pouring their 
 shot directly into the crowd, more than a hundred men lay 
 dead at the first volley. The Champ de Mars was empty in 
 an instant, and the Constituted Authority, for the first time 
 since the Revolution commenced, remained master of a con- 
 tested field. 
 
 The work of the Constitution being accomplished, the Na- 
 tional, or as it is usually called, the Constituent Assembly, 
 dissolved itself, agreeably to the vow they had pronounced in 
 the Tennis-court at Versailles. 
 
 The adieus which they took of power were any thing but 
 prophetic. They pronounced the Revolution ended, and the 
 Constitution completed — the one was but commencing, and 
 the other was baseless as a morning dream. 
 
 The first, or Constituent Assembly, in destroying almost 
 all which existed as law in France, when they were summon- 
 ed together as States-general, had preserved, at least in form, 
 the name and power of a monarch. The legislative Assembly, 
 which succeeded them, seemed preparing to destroy the sym- 
 bol of royalty which their predecessors had left standing, 
 though surrounded by republican enactments. 
 
 There was no party remained which could be termed strict- 
 ly or properly Royalists. Those who were attached to the 
 old monarchy of France were now almost all exiles, and there 
 were left but few even of that second class of more moderate 
 and more reasonable Royalists, who desired to establish a free 
 constitution on the basis of an effective monarchy, strong 
 enough to protect the laws against licence, but not sufficiently 
 predominant to alter or overthrow. them. Cazales, whose chiv- 
 alrous defence of the nobility, — Maury, whose eloquent plead- 
 ings for the church — had so often made an honorable but vain 
 struggle against the advances of revolution, were now silent 
 and absent, and the few feeble remnants of their party had 
 ranged themselves with the Constitutionalists who were so 
 far favorers of monarchy as it made part of their favorite sys- 
 tem — and no further. La Fayette continued to be the organ 
 of that party, and had assembled under his banners Duport, 
 Barnave and Lameth, all of whom had striven to keep pace 
 with the headlong spirit of the Revolution, but, being out- 
 stripped by more active and forward champions of the popu- 
 lar cause, now shifted ground, and formed a union with those 
 who were disposed to maintain, that the present Constitution 
 
 2 # 
 
34 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. n. 
 
 was adapted to all the purposes of free and effectual govern- 
 ment, and that, by its creation, all further revolutionary meas- 
 ures were virtually superseded. 
 
 In stern opposition to those admirers of the Constitution, 
 stood two bodies of unequal numbers, strength and efficacy; 
 of which the first was determined that the Revolution should 
 never stop until the downfall of the monarchy, while the sec- 
 ond entertained the equally resolved purpose of urging these 
 changes still further onwards, to the total destruction of all 
 civil order and the establishment of a government in which 
 terror and violence should be the ruling principles, to be wield- 
 ed by the hands of demagogues who dared to nourish a scheme 
 so nefarious. The first of these parties took its most com- 
 mon denomination from the Gironde, a department which sent 
 most of its members to the Convention. 
 
 The Jacobins — the second of these parties — were allies of 
 the Girondists, with the anterior purpose of urging the revo- 
 lutionary force to the uttermost, but using as yet the shelter 
 of their republican mantle. Robespierre, who, by an affecta- 
 tion of a frugal and sequestered course of life, preserved 
 among the multitude the title of the Incorruptible, might be 
 considered as the head of the Jacobins, if they had indeed a 
 leader more than wolves have, which tune their united voices 
 to the cry of him who bays the loudest. Danton, inexorable 
 as Robespierre himself, but less prudent, because he loved 
 gold and pleasure as well as blood and power, was next in au- 
 thority. Marat, who loved to talk of murder as soldiers do 
 of battles; the wretched Collot d'Herbois, a broken-down 
 play-actor; Chabot, an excapuchin; with many other men of 
 desperate character, whose moderate talents were eked out 
 by the most profligate effrontery, formed the advanced guard 
 of this party, soiled with every species of crime, and accus- 
 tomed to act their parts in the management of those dreadful 
 insurrections, which had at once promoted and dishonored the 
 Revolution. It is needless to preserve from oblivion names 
 such as Santerre and Hebert, distinguished for cruelty and 
 villainy above the other subaltern villains. Such was the par- 
 ty who, at the side of the Brissotins, stood prompt to storm 
 the last bulwarks of the Monarchy, reserving to themselves 
 the secret determination, that the spoil should be all their 
 own. 
 
 The substantial and dreadful support of the Jacobins lay 
 in the Club so named, with the yet more violent association 
 of Cordeliers and their original affiliated societies, which 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 35 
 
 reigned paramount over those of the municipal bodies, which 
 in most departments were fain to crouch under their stern and 
 sanguinary dominion. 
 
 The leaders who were masters of this Club, had possession, 
 as we have often remarked, of the master-keys to the passions 
 of the populace, could raise a forest of pikes with one word, 
 and unsheathe a thousand daggers with another. They direct- 
 ly and openly recommended the bloodiest and most ruffian-like 
 actions, instead of those which, belonging to open and manly 
 warfare, present something that is generous even in the midst 
 of violence. lt Give me,'' said the atrocious Marat, when 
 instructing Barbaroux in his bloody science, — "Give me 
 two hundred Neapolitans — the knife in their right hand, in 
 their left a muff, to serve for a target — with these I will tra- 
 verse France, and complete the revolution." At the same lec- 
 ture he made an exact calculation, (for the monster was pos- 
 sessed of some science,) showing in what manner two hun- 
 dred and sixty thousand men might be put to death in one 
 day. 
 
 Hitherto France had acted alone in this dreadful tragedy, 
 while the other nations of Europe looked on in amazement, 
 which now began to give place to a desire of action. 
 
 England, the rival of France, might, from the example of 
 that country, have exercised the right of interfering with her 
 domestic concerns, in requital of the aid which she afforded 
 to the Americans; but besides that the publicity of the parlia- 
 mentary debates must compel the most ambitious British min- 
 ister to maintain at least an appearance of respect to the 
 rights of other countries. England herself was much divid- 
 ed on the subject of the French Revolution. 
 
 There was in other kingdoms and states upon the Conti- 
 nent, the same diyersity of feelings respecting the Revolution 
 which divided England. The favor of the lower and unprivi- 
 leged classes, in Germany especially, was the more fixed up- 
 on the progress of the French Revolution, because they lin- 
 gered under the same incapacities from which the changes 
 in France had delivered the Commons, or Third Estate, of 
 that country. Thus far their partiality was not only natural 
 and innocent, but praiseworthy. It is as natural for a man to 
 desire the natural liberty from which he is unjustly excluded, 
 as it is for those who are in an apartment where the air is pol- 
 luted, to wish for the wholesome atmosphere. 
 
 The princes at the head of despotic governments were, of 
 course, most interested in putting an end, if it were possible, 
 
36 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. ii. 
 
 to the present Revolution of France, and extinguishing a 
 flame which appeared so threatening to its neighbors. Yet 
 there was a long hesitation ere any thing to this purpose was 
 attempted. Austria, whom the matter concerned as so near 
 an ally of France, was slow ere she made any decisive step 
 towards hostility. 
 
 Prussia, justly proud of her noble army, her veteran com- 
 manders and the bequest of military fame left her by the 
 Great Frederick, was more eager than Austria, to adopt what 
 began to be called the cause of Kings and Nobles, though 
 the sovereign of the latter kingdom was so nearly connected 
 with the unfortunate Louis. Frederick William had been 
 taught to despise revolutionary movements by his cheap vic- 
 tory over the Dutch democracy, while the resistance of the 
 Low Countries had induced the Austrians to dread such ex- 
 plosions. 
 
 Rusia declared herself hostile to the French Revolution, 
 but hazarded no effective step against them. The King of 
 Sweden, animated by the adventurous character which made 
 Gustavus, and after him Charles, sally forth from their frozen 
 realms to influence the fates of Europe, showed the strongest 
 disposition to play the same part, though the limited state of 
 his resources rendered his valor almost nugatory. 
 
 Thus, while so many increasing discontents and suspicions 
 showed that a decision by arms became every day more inevi- 
 table, Europe seemed still reluctant to commence the fatal 
 encounter, as if the world had anticipated the long duration 
 of the dreadful struggle, and the millions of lives which it 
 must cost to bring it to a termination. 
 
 On the death of Leopold, and the succession of his brother 
 Francis to the imperial throne, the disposition of Austria be- 
 came much more turned towards war. It became the object 
 of Francis to overcome the revolutionists, and prevent if pos- 
 sible, the impending fate of the royal family. In adopting 
 these warlike counsels, the mind of the new Emperor was 
 much influenced by the desire of Prussia to take the field. — 
 Indeed, the condition of the royal family, which became eve- 
 ry day more precarious, seemed to both powers to indicate 
 and authorize hostile measures, and they were at no pains to 
 conceal their sentiments. It is not probable that peace would 
 have remained long unbroken, unless some change of an un- 
 expected or unhoped for character, in favor of royalty, had 
 taken place in France; but after all the menaces which had 
 been made by the foreign powers, it was France herself, who, 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 37 
 
 to the surprise of Europe, first resorted to arms. The osten- 
 sible reason was, that, in declaring war, she only anticipated, 
 as became a brave and generous nation, the commencement 
 of hostilities which Austria had menaced. 
 
 It is not our purpose here to enter into any detail of milita- 
 ry events. It is sufficient to say, that the first results of the 
 war were more disastrous than could have been expected, 
 even from the want of discipline and state of mutiny in which 
 this call to arms found the troops of France. If Austria, 
 never quick at improving an opportunity, had possessed more 
 forces on the Flemish frontier, or had even pressed her suc- 
 cess with the troops she had, events might have occurred to 
 influence, if not to altar, the fortunes of France and her 
 King. They were inactive, however, and La Fayette, who 
 was at the head of the army, exerted himself, not without ef- 
 fect, to rally the spirits of the French, and infuse discipline 
 and confidence into their ranks. But he was able to secure 
 no success of so marked a character as to correspond with 
 the reputation he had acquired in America; so that as the 
 Austrians were few in number, and not very decisive in their 
 movements, the war seemed to languish on both sides. 
 
 Louis was left to the pitiless storm of revolution, without 
 the assistance of any one who could in the least assist him in 
 piloting through the tempest. The few courtiers — or, much 
 better named — the few ancient and attached friends, who re- 
 mained around his person, possessed neither talents nor in- 
 fluence to aid him; they could but lament his misfortunes and 
 share his ruin. He himself expressed a deep conviction, that 
 his death was near at hand, yet the apprehension neither al- 
 tered his firmness upon points to which he esteemed his con- 
 science was party, nor changed the general quiet placidity of 
 his temper. He named his last ministry from the dispirited 
 remnants of the Constitutional party, which still made a fee- 
 ble and unsupported struggle against the Girondists and Jaco- 
 bins in the Assembly. They did not long enjoy their preca- 
 rious office. 
 
 The factions last named were now united in the purpose of 
 precipitating the King from his throne by actual and direct 
 force. The voice of the Girondist Vergniaud had already 
 proclaimed in the Assembly, " Terror," he said " must, in the 
 name of the people, burst its way into yonder palace, whence 
 she has so often sallied forth at the command of monarchs." 
 
 An insurrection was at length arranged, which had all the 
 character of that which brought the King a prisoner from Ver- 
 
38 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. n. 
 
 sailles. The community, or magistracy, of Paris, which was 
 entirely under the dominion of Robespierre, Danton and the 
 Jacobins, had been long providing for such an enterprise, and 
 under pretext that they were arming the lower classes against 
 invasion, had distributed pikes and other weapons to the rab- 
 ble, who were to be used on this occasion. 
 
 On the 20th of June the Sansculottes of the suburbs of St. 
 Marceau and St. Antoine assembled together, armed with 
 pikes, scythes, hay-forks and weapons of every description, 
 whether those actually forged for the destruction of mankind, 
 or those which, invented for peaceful purposes, are readily 
 converted by popular fury into offensive arms. They seemed, 
 notwithstanding their great numbers, to act under authority, 
 and amid their cries, their songs, their dances and the wild 
 intermixture of grotesque and fearful revel, appeared to move 
 by command, and to act with an unanimity that gave the ef- 
 fect of order to that which was in itself confusion. They were 
 divided into bodies, and had their leaders. Standards were 
 also displayed, carefully selected to express the character and 
 purpose of the wretches who were assembled under them. — 
 One ensign was a pair of tattered breeches, with the motto, 
 "Vivent les Sans Culottes.'' Another ensign-bearer, dress- 
 ed in black, carried on a long pole a hog's harslet, that is, 
 part of the entrails of that animal, still bloody, with the legend, 
 " La fressure d'un Aristocrat." This formidable assemblage 
 was speedily recruited by the mob of Paris, to an immense 
 multitude, whose language, gestures and appearance, all com- 
 bined to announce some violent catastrophe. 
 
 The terrified citizens, afraid of general pillage, concentra- 
 ted themselves, — not to defend the King, or protect the Na- 
 tional Assembly, but for the preservation of the Palais Roy- 
 ale, where the splendor of the shops was most likely to attract 
 the cupidity of the Sansculottes. A strong force of armed 
 citizens guarded all the avenues of this temple of Mammon, 
 and, by excluding the insurgents from its precincts, showed 
 what they could have done for the Hall of the Legislature, 
 or the Palace of the Monarch, had the cause of either found 
 favor in their eyes. 
 
 The insurrection rolled on to the Hall of the Assembly, 
 surrounded the alarmed deputies, and filled with armed men 
 every avenue of approach; talked of a petition which they 
 meant to present, and demanded to file through the Hall to 
 display the force by which it was supported. The terrified 
 members had nothing better to reply, than by a request that 
 
Cha*. h.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 39 
 
 the insurgents should only enter the Assembly by a represen- 
 tative deputation — at least that, coming in a body, they should 
 leave their arms behind. The formidable petitioners laughed 
 at both proposals, and poured through the Hall, shaking in tri- 
 umph their insurrectionary weapons. The Assembly, mean- 
 while, made rather an ignoble figure; and their attempts to 
 preserve an outward appearance of indifference, and even of 
 cordiality towards their foul and frightful visitants, have been 
 aptly compared to a band of wretched commedians, endeavor- 
 ing to mitigate the resentment of a brutal and incensed au- 
 dience. 
 
 From the Hall of the Assembly, the populace rushed to 
 the Tuilleries. Preparations had been made for defence, and 
 several bodies of troops were judiciously placed, who, with 
 the advantages afforded by the gates and walls, might have de- 
 fended their posts against the armed rabble which approached. 
 But there was neither union, loyalty nor energy, in those to 
 whom the defence was entrusted, nor did the King, by placing 
 himself at their head, attempt to give animation to their cour- 
 age. 
 
 The National Guards drew off at the command of the two 
 municipal officers, decked with their scarfs of office, who 
 charged them not to oppose the will of the people. The 
 grates were dashed to pieces with sledge hammers. The 
 gates of the palace itself were shut, but the rabble, turning 
 a cannon upon them, compelled entrance, and those apart- 
 ments of royal magnificence, so long the pride of France, 
 were laid open to the multitude, like those of Troy to her in- 
 vaders. 
 
 The august palace of the proud house of Bourbon lay thus 
 exposed to the rude gaze, and vulgar tread, of a brutal and 
 ferocious rabble. Who dared have prophesied such an event 
 to the royal founders of this stately pile, to the chivalrous 
 Henry of Navarre, or the magnificent Louis XIV! — The 
 door of the apartment entering into the vestibule was opened 
 by the hands of Louis himself, the ill-fated representative of 
 this lofty line. He escaped with difficulty the thrust of a bayo- 
 net, made as the door was in the act of expanding. There 
 were around him a handful of courtiers, and a few of the 
 grenadiers of the National Guard, belonging to the section of 
 Filles St. Thomas, which had always been distinguished for 
 fidelity. They hurried and almost forced the King into the 
 embrazure of a window, erected a sort of barricade in front 
 with tables, and stood beside him as his defenders. The 
 
40 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. ii. 
 
 crowd, at their first entrance, levelled their pikes at Madame 
 Elizabeth, whom they mistook for the Queen. " Why did 
 you undeceive them?" said the heroic princess to those 
 around her — "It might have saved the life of my sister." — 
 Even the insurgents were affected by this trait of heroism. 
 They had encountered none of those obstacles which chafe 
 such minds, and make them thirsty of blood, and it would 
 seem that their leaders had not received decided orders, or, 
 having received them, did not think the time served for their 
 execution. The insurgents defiled through the apartments, 
 and passed the King, now joined by the Queen with her chil- 
 dren. The former, though in the utmost personal danger, 
 would not be separated from her husband, exclaiming that her 
 post was by his side; the latter were weeping with terror at 
 a scene so horrible. 
 
 The people seemed moved, or rather their purpose was de- 
 prived of that energetic unanimity which had hitherto carried 
 them so far. One of them flung a red cap at the King, who 
 quietly drew it upon his head; another offered him a bottle, 
 and commanded him to drink to the Nation. No glass could 
 be had, and he was obliged to drink out of the bottle. These 
 incidents are grotesque and degrading, but they are redeemed 
 by one of much dignity. "Fear nothing, Sire," said one of 
 the faithful grenadiers of the National Guard who defended 
 him. The King took his hand and pressing it to his heart, re- 
 plied, " Judge yourself if I fear." 
 
 Various leaders of the Republicans were present at this ex- 
 traordinary scene, in the apartments, or in the garden, and ex- 
 pressed themselves according to their various sentiments. — 
 " What a figure they have made of him with the red night- 
 cap and the bottle!" said Manuel the Procureur of the Com- 
 mune of Paris. — "What a magnificent spectacle!" said the 
 artist David, looking out upon the tumultuary sea of pikes, 
 agitated by fifty thousand hands, as they rose and sunk, welk- 
 ed and waved; — " Tremble, tremble, tyrants!" — "They are 
 in a fair train," said the fierce Gorsas; "we shall soon see 
 their pikes garnished with several heads." The crowds who 
 thrust forward into the palace and the presence, were pressed 
 together till the heat increased almost to suffocation, nor did 
 there appear any end to the confusion. 
 
 Late and slow, the Legislative Assembly did at length send 
 a deputation of twenty-five members to the palace. Their 
 arrival put an end to the tumult; for Pethion, the mayor of 
 Paris, and the other authorities, who had hitherto been well 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 41 
 
 nigh passive, now exerted themselves to clear away the armed 
 populace from the palace and gardens, and were so readily 
 obeyed, that it was evident that similar efforts would have 
 entirely prevented the insurrection. The " poor and virtuous 
 people," as Robespierre used to call them, with an affected 
 unction of pronunciation, retired for once with their pikes 
 unbloodied, not a little marvelling why they had been called 
 together for such a harmless purpose. 
 
 On the 28th of the same month of June, all parties heard 
 with as much interest as anxiety, that General La Fayette 
 was in Paris. He came, indeed, only with a part of his staff. 
 Had he brought with him a moderate body of troops upon 
 whom he could have absolutely depended, his presence so 
 Supported, in addition to his influence in Paris, would have 
 settled the point at issue. But the General might hesitate to 
 diminish the French army then in front of the enemy, and by 
 doing so to take on himself the responsibility of what might 
 happen in his absence; or, as it appeared from subsequent 
 events, he may not have dared to repose the necessary confi- 
 dence in any corps of his army, so completely had they been 
 imbued with the revolutionary spirit. Still his arrival, thus 
 slightly attended, indicated a confidence in his own resources, 
 which was calculated to strike the opposite party with anxious 
 apprehension. 
 
 He appeared at the bar of the Assembly, and addressed the 
 members in a strain of decision which had not been lately 
 heard on the part of those who pleaded the royal cause in that 
 place. He denounced the authors of the violence committed 
 on the 20th of June, declared that several corps of his army 
 had addressed him, and that he came to express their horror 
 as well as his own at the rapid progress of faction; and to de- 
 mand that such measures should be taken as to ensure the 
 defenders of France, that while they were shedding their 
 blood on the frontiers, the Constitution, for which they com- 
 batted, should not be destroyed by traitors in the interior. — 
 This speech, delivered by a man of great courage and re- 
 doubted influence, had considerable effect. The Girondists, 
 indeed, proposed to inquire, whether La Fayette had permis- 
 sion from the Minister of War to leave the command of his 
 army; and sneeringly affirmed, that the Austrians must needs 
 have retreated from the frontier, since the General of the 
 French army had returned to Paris: but a considerable ma- 
 jority preferred the motion of the constitutionalist Ramond, 
 who, eulogising La Fayette as the eldest son of liberty, oro- 
 
42 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. ii. 
 
 posed an inquiry into the causes and object of those factious 
 proceedings of which he had complained. 
 
 The Girondists and Jacobins, closely united at this crisis, 
 dared not on their part venture to arrest the General. Mean- 
 time La Fayette saw no other means of saving the King than 
 to propose ane.w his attempting to escape from Paris, which 
 he offered to further by every means in his power. The plan 
 was discussed, but dismissed in consequence of the Queen's 
 prejudices against La Fayette, whom, not unnaturally, (though 
 as far as regarded intention certainly unjustly,) she regarded 
 as the original author of the King's misfortunes. After two 
 days lingering in Paris, La Fayette found it necessary to re- 
 turn to the army which he commanded, and leave the King to 
 his fate. *, 
 
 The King's acceptance of the Constitution was repeated 
 in the Champ de Mars before the Federates, or deputies sent 
 up to represent the various departments of France; and the 
 figure made by the King during that pageant, formed a strik- 
 ing and melancholy parallel with his actual condition in the 
 state. With hair powdered and dressed, with clothes em- 
 broidered in the ancient court-fashion, surrounded and crowd- 
 ed unceremoniously by men of the lowest rank, and in the 
 most wretched garbs, he seemed something belonging to a 
 former age, but which in the present has lost its fashion and 
 value. He was conducted to the Champ de Mars, under a 
 strong guard, and by a circuitous route, to avoid the insults 
 of the multitude, who dedicated their applauses to the Giron- 
 dist Mayor of Paris, exclaiming, u Pethion or Death!" — 
 When he ascended the altar to go through the ceremonial of 
 the day, all were struck with the resemblance to a victim led 
 to sacrifice, and the Queen so much so, that she exclaimed 
 and nearly fainted. A few children alone called Yive le Roi! 
 This was the last time Louis was seen in public until he 
 mounted the scaffold. 
 
 The departure of La Fayette renewed the courage of the 
 Girondists, and they proposed a decree of impeachment against 
 him in the Assembly; but the spirit which the General's pres- 
 ence had awakened was not yet extinguished, and his friends 
 in the Assembly undertook his defence with a degree of un- 
 expected courage, which alarmed their antagonists. Nor 
 could their fears be termed groundless. The Constitutional 
 General might march his army upon Paris, or he might make 
 some accommodation with the foreign invaders, and receive 
 assistance from them to accomplish such a purpose. It seem- 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 43 
 
 ed to the Girondists, that no time was to be lost. They de- 
 termined not to trust to the Jacobins, to whose want of* resolu- 
 tion they seem to ascribe the failure of the insurrection of 
 the 20th of June. They resolved upon occasion of the next 
 effort, to employ some part of that departmental force, which 
 was now approaching Paris in straggling bodies, under the 
 name of Federates. The affiliated clubs had faithfully obey- 
 ed the mandates of the parent society of the Jacobins, by pro- 
 curing that the most staunch and exalted Revolutionists should 
 be sent on this service. These men, or the greater part of 
 them, chose to visit Paris, rather than to pass straight to their 
 rendezvous at Soissons. As they believed themselves the 
 armed representatives of the country, they behaved with all 
 the insolence which the consciousness of bearing arms gives 
 to those who are unaccustomed to discipline. They walked 
 in large bodies in the Garden of the Tuilleries, and when any 
 persons of the royal family appeared, they insulted the ladies 
 with obscene language and indecent songs, the men with the 
 most hideous threats. The Girondists resolved to frame a 
 force, which might be called their own, out of such formida- 
 ble materials. 
 
 Barbaroux, one of the most enthusiastic admirers of the 
 Revolution, a youth like the Seid of Voltaire's tragedy, filled 
 with the most devoted enthusiasm for a cause of which he nev- 
 er suspected the truth, offered to bring up a battalion of Fed- 
 erates from his native city of Marseilles, men, as he describes 
 them, who knew how to die, and who, as it proved, understood 
 at least as well how to kill. In raking up the disgusting his- 
 tory of mean and bloody-minded demagogues, it is impossible 
 not to dwell on the contrast afforded by the generous and self- 
 devoted character of Barbaroux, who, young, handsome, gen- 
 erous, noble minded and disinterested, sacrificed his family 
 happiness, his fortune and finally his life, to an enthusiastic 
 though mistaken zeal for the liberty of his country. He had 
 become from the commencement of the Revolution one of its 
 greatest champions at Marseilles, where it had been forward- 
 ed and opposed by all the fervour of faction, influenced by the 
 southern sun. He had admired the extravagant writings of 
 Marat and Robespierre; but when he came to know them 
 personally, he was disgusted with their low sentiments and 
 savage dispositions, and went to worship Freedom amongst 
 the Girondists, where her shrine was served by the fair and 
 accomplished Madame Roland. 
 
 The Marseillois, besides the advantage of this enthusiastic 
 
44 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. n. 
 
 leader, marched to the air of the finest hymn to which liberty 
 or the Revolution had yet given birth. They appeared in 
 Paris, where it had been agreed between the Jacobins and 
 Girondists that the strangers should be welcomed by the fra- 
 ternity of the suburbs, and whatever other force the factions 
 could command. Thus united, they were to march to secure 
 the municipality, occupy the bridges and principal posts of 
 the city with detached parties, while the main body should 
 proceed to form an encampment in the Garden of the Tuil- 
 leries, where the conspiritors had no doubt they should find 
 themselves sufficiently powerful to exact the King's resigna- 
 tion, or declare his forfeiture. 
 
 This plan failed through the cowardice of Santerre, the 
 chief leader of the insurgents of the suburb, swho had en- 
 gaged to meet the Marseillois with forty thousand men. Very 
 few of the promised auxiliaries appeared; but the undismayed 
 Marseillois, though only five hundred in number, marched 
 through the city to the terror of the inhabitants, their keen black 
 eyes seeming to seek out aristocratic victims, and their songs 
 partaking of the wild Moorish character that lingers in the south 
 of France, denouncing vengeance on kings, priests and no- 
 bles. 
 
 Meanwhile, though their hands were strengthened by this 
 band of unscrupulous and devoted implements of their pur- 
 pose, the Girondists failed totally in their attempt against 
 La Fayette in the Assembly, the decree of accusation against 
 him being rejected by a victorious majority. They were 
 therefore induced to resort to measures of direct violence, 
 which unquestionably they would willingly have abstained from 
 since they could not attempt them without giving a perilous 
 superiority to the Jacobin faction. The manifesto of the 
 Duke of Brunswick, and his arrival on the French frontier 
 at the head of a powerful Prussian army, acted upon the oth- 
 er motives for insurrection, as a high pressure upon a steam 
 engine, producing explosion. 
 
 It was the misfortune of Louis to be as frequently injured 
 by the false measures of his friends as by the machinations 
 of his enemies; and this proclamation, issued by a monarch 
 who had taken arms in the King's cause, was couched in 
 language intolerable to the feelings even of such Frenchmen 
 as might still retain towards their King some sentiments of 
 loyalty. All towns or villages which should offer the slight- 
 est resistance to the allies, were in this ill-timed manifesto 
 menaced with fire and sword. Paris was declared responsi- 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 45 
 
 ble for the safety of Louis, and the most violent threats of 
 the total subversion of that great metropolis were denounced 
 as the penalty. 
 
 To animate the citizens to their defence, the Assembly de- 
 clared that the country was in danger; and in order that the 
 annunciation might be more impressive, cannon were hourly 
 discharged from the hospital des Invalids — bands of music 
 traversed the streets — bodies of men were hastily drawn to- 
 gether, as if the enemy were at the gates — and all the hurried 
 and hasty movements of the constituted authorities seemed to 
 announce, that the invaders were within a day's march of 
 Paris. 
 
 The King had, since the insurrection of the 20th of June, 
 which displayed how much he was at the mercy of his ene- 
 mies, renounced almost all thoughts of safety or escape. — 
 Henry IV, would have called for his arms — Louis XVI, de- 
 manded his confessor. " I have no longer any thing to do 
 with earth," he said; " I must turn all my thoughts on Heav- 
 en." Some vain efforts were made to bribe the leaders of 
 the Jacobins, who took the money, and pursued, as might 
 have been expected, their own course with equal rigour. 
 
 The King hazily recalled from their barracks at Courbe- 
 Voie about a thousand Swiss Guards, upon whose fidelity he 
 could depend. The formidable discipline and steady demean- 
 our of these gallant mountaineers, might have recalled the de- 
 scription given by historians of the entrance of their prede- 
 cessors into Paris under similar circumstances, the day be- 
 fore the affair of the Barricades, in the reign of Henry II. — 
 But the present moment was too anxious to admit of reflec- 
 tions upon past history. 
 
 Early on the morning of the 10th of August, the tocsin 
 rung out its alarm peal over the terrified city of Paris, and 
 announced that the long-menaced insurrection was at length 
 on foot. In many parishes the Constitutional party resisted 
 those who came to sound this awful signal; but the well pre- 
 pared Jacobins were found everywhere victorious, and the 
 prolonged mournful sound, was soon tolled out from every 
 steeple in the metropolis. 
 
 To this melancholy music the contending parties arranged 
 their forces for attack and defence, upon a day which was 
 doomed to be decisive. 
 
 The Swiss guards got 'under arms, and repaired to their 
 posts in and around the palace. About four hundred grena- 
 diers of the loyal section of Filles Saint Thomas, joined by 
 
46 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, ir 
 
 several from that of Les Petits Peres, in whom all confidence 
 could justly be reposed, were posted in the interior of the 
 palace, and associated with the Swiss for its defence. The 
 relics of the Royalist party, undismayed at the events of the 
 28th of February in the year preceding, had repaired to the 
 palace on the first signal given by the tocsin. Their arms 
 were as miscellaneous as their appearance. Rapiers, hang- 
 ers and pistols, were the weapons with which they were to en- 
 counter bands well provided with musketry and artillery. 
 Their courage, however, was unabated. It was in vain that 
 the Queen conjured, almost with tears, men aged fourscore 
 and upwards, to retire from a contest where their strength 
 could avail so little. The veterans felt that the fatal hour 
 was come, and, unable to fight, claimed the privilege of dying 
 in the discharge of their duty. 
 
 The distant shouts of the enemy were already heard, while 
 the Garden of the Tuilleries was filled by the successive le- 
 gions of the National Guard, with their cannon. Of this civ- 
 ic force, some, and especially the artillerymen, were as ill 
 disposed towards the King as was possible; others were well 
 inclined to him; and the greater part remained doubtful. — 
 Mandat, their commander, was entirely in thfi royal interests. 
 He had disposed the force he commanded to the best advan- 
 tage for discouraging the mutineers, and giving confidence to 
 the well disposed, when he received an order to repair to the 
 municipality for orders. He went thither accordingly, expect- 
 ing the support of such Constitutionalists as remained in that 
 magistracy, but he found it entirely in possession of the Jaco- 
 bin party. Mandat was arrested, and ordered a prisoner to 
 the Abbaye, which he never reached, being pistoled by an as- 
 sassin at the gate of the Hotel de Ville. His death was an 
 infinite loss to the King's party. 
 
 The motions of the assailants were far from being as prompt 
 and lively as on former occasions, when no great resistance 
 was anticipated. Santerre, an eminent brewer, who, from his 
 great capital, and his affectation of popular zeal, had raised 
 himself to the command of the suburb forces, was equally in- 
 active in mind and body, and by no means fitted for the des- 
 perate part which he was called on to play. Westerman, a 
 zealous Republican, and a soldier of skill and courage, came 
 to press Santerre's march, informijig him that the Marseillois 
 and Breton Federates were in arms in the Place du Carousel, 
 and expected the advance of the pikemen from the suburbs of 
 St. Antoine and St. Marceau. On Santerre's hesitating, 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 4T 
 
 Westerman placed his sword point at his throat, and the citi- 
 zen commandant, yielding to the nearer terror, put his bands 
 at length in motion. Their numbers were immense. But 
 the real strength of the assault was to lie on the Federates of 
 Marseillois and Bretagne, and other provinces, who had been 
 carefully provided with arms and ammunition. They were 
 also secure of the Gens d'arms, or soldiers of police, although 
 these were called out and arranged on the King's side. The 
 Marseillois and Bretons were placed at the head of the long 
 columns of the suburb pikemen, as the edge of an axe is arm- 
 ed with steel, while the back is of coarser metal to give weight 
 to the blow. The charge of the attack was committed to 
 Westerman. 
 
 The bridge adjacent to the Tuilleries, called the Point Roy- 
 ale, was occupied by the insurgents, and the Quai on the op- 
 posite side of the river was mounted with cannon, of which 
 the assailants had about fifty pieces, served by the most de- 
 termined Jacobins; for the artillerymen had from the begin- 
 ning embraced the popular cause with unusual energy. 
 
 There was now no alternative for Louis, but to fight at the 
 head of his guards, or submit himself to the pleasure of the 
 Assembly. He preferred the latter. His wife, his sister and 
 children, accompanied him on this occasion; and the utmost 
 efforts of an escort of three hundred Swiss and national grena- 
 diers were scarce able to protect them. They were, at every 
 moment of their progress, interrupted by the deadliest threats 
 and imprecations, and the weapons of more than one ruffian 
 were levelled against them. The Queen was robbed even of 
 her watch and purse — so near might the worst criminals ap- 
 proach the persons of the royal fugitives. 
 
 The King's entrance into the Assembly was not without 
 dignity. " My family and I are come among you," he said, 
 "to prevent the commission of a great crime." Vergniaud, 
 who was president at the time, answered with propriety, 
 though ambiguously. He assured the King that the Assem- 
 bly knew its duties, and was ready to perish in support of them. 
 A member of the mountain observed, with bitter irony, that 
 it was impossible for the Assembly to deliberate freely in pre- 
 sence of the monarch, and proposed that he should retreat in- 
 to one of the most remote committee rooms — a place whera 
 assassination must have been comparatively easy. The As- 
 sembly rejected this proposal, alike insulting and insiduous, 
 and assigned a box, or small apartment, called the Logographe, 
 used for the reporters of the debates, for the place of refuge 
 
48 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, n, 
 
 of this unhappy family. This arrangement was scarce made, 
 ere a heavy discharge of musketry and cannon announced 
 that the King's retreat had not prevented the bloodshed he so 
 greatly feared. 
 
 The insurgents with the Marseillois and Breton Federates 
 at their heads poured into the court-yard of the palace with- 
 out opposition, planted their cannon where some small build- 
 ings gave them advantage, and advanced without hesitation 
 to the outposts of the Swiss. They had already tasted blood 
 that day, having massacred a patrol of royalists, who, unable 
 to get into the Tuilleries, had attempted to assist the defence, 
 by interrupting, or at least watching and discovering, the 
 measures adopted by the insurgents. These men's heads 
 were, as usual, borne on pikes among their ranks. 
 
 They pushed forward, and it is said the Swiss at first offer- 
 ed demonstrations of truce. But the assailants thronged on- 
 ward, crowded on the barricade, and when the parties came 
 into such close collision, a struggle ensued, and a shot was 
 fired. It is doubtful from what side it came, nor is it of much 
 consequence, for on such an occasion that body must be held 
 the aggressors who approach the pickets of the other, armed 
 and prepared for assault; and although the first gun be fired 
 by those whose position is endangered, it is no less defensive 
 than if discharged in reply to a fire from the other side. 
 
 This unhappy shot seems to have dispelled some small 
 chance of a reconciliation between the parties. Hard firing 
 instantly commenced from the Federates and Marseillois, 
 whilst the palace blazed forth fire from every window, and 
 killed a great many of the assailants. The Swiss, whose 
 numbers were now only about seven hundred men, determin- 
 ed, notwithstanding, upon a sally, which, in the beginning,* 
 was completely successful. They drove the insurgents from 
 the court-yard, killed many of the Marseillois and Bretons, 
 took some of their guns, and turning them along the streets, 
 compelled the assailants to actual flight, so that word was car- 
 ried to the National Assembly that the Swiss were victorious. 
 The utmost confusion prevailed there; the deputies upbraided 
 each other with their share in bringing about the insurrection; 
 Brissot showed timidity; and several of the deputies thinking 
 the Guards were hastening to massacre them, attempted to 
 escape by the windows of the Hall. 
 
 If, indeed, the sally of the Swiss had been supported by a 
 sufficient body of faithful cavalry, the Revolution might have 
 been that day ended. But the Gens d'arms were devoted to 
 
Chap, ii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 49 
 
 the popular cause, and the Swiss, too few to secure their ad- 
 vantage, were obliged to return to the palace, where they 
 were of new invested. 
 
 Westerman posted his forces and artillery with much intelli- 
 gence, and continued a fire on the Tuilleries from all points. 
 It was now returned with less vivacity, for the ammunition of 
 the defenders began to fail. At this moment D'Hervilly ar- 
 rived from the Assembly, with the King's commands that the 
 Swiss should cease firing, evacuate the palace and repair to 
 the King's person. The faithful Guards obeyed at once, not 
 understanding that the object was submission, but conceiving 
 they were summoned elsewhere, to fight under the King's 
 eye. They had no sooner collected themselves into a body, 
 and attempted to cross the Garden of the Tuilleries, than, 
 exposed to a destructive fire on all sides, the remains of that 
 noble regiment, so faithful to the trust assigned to it, diminish- 
 ed at every step; until, charged repeatedly by the treacherous 
 Gens-d'arms, who ought to have supported them, they were 
 separated into platoons, which continued to defend themselves 
 with courage, even till the very last of them was overpowered 
 dispersed and destroyed by multitudes. A better defence 
 against such fearful odds scarce remains on historical record 
 a more useless one can hardly be imagined. 
 
 The rabble, with their leaders the Federates, now burst in- 
 to the palace, executing the most barbarous vengeance on the 
 few defenders who had not made their escape; and while 
 some massacred the living, others, and especially the unsexed 
 women, who were mingled in their ranks, committed the most 
 shameful butchery on the corpses of the slain. 
 
 An almost vain attempt was made to save the lives of that 
 remaining detachment of Swiss which had formed the King's 
 escort to the Assembly, and to whom several of the scattered 
 Royalists had again united themselves. Their officers pro- 
 posed, as a last effort of despair, to make themselves masters 
 of the Assembly, and declare the deputies hostages for the 
 King's safety. Considering the smallness of their numbers, 
 such an attempt could only have produced additional blood- 
 shed, which would have been ascribed doubtless to the King's 
 treachery. The King commanded them to resign their arms, 
 being the last order which he issued to any military force. — 
 He was obeyed; but, as they were instantly attacked by the 
 insurgents, few escaped slaughter, and submission preserved 
 but a handful. About seven hundred and fifty Ml in the de- 
 fence, and after the storm of the Tuilleries. Some few were 
 
 3 
 
50 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. hi. 
 
 saved by the generous exertions of individual deputies — oth- 
 ers were sent to prison where a bloody end awaited them — the 
 greater part were butchered by the rabble, so soon as they 
 saw them without arms. The mob sought for them the whole 
 night, and massacred many porters of private families, who, 
 at Paris, are generally termed Swiss, though often natives of 
 other countries. 
 
 The royal family were at length permitted to spend the 
 night, which, it may be presumed, was sleepless, in the cells 
 of the neighboring convent of the Feuillans. 
 
 Thus eu v ded, for the period of twenty years and upwards, 
 the reign of the Bourbons over their ancient realm of France. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 La Fayette escapes from France, and is made prisoner by the Prussians. 
 Characters of Danton, Robespierre and Marat. Great massacre of 
 Prisoners in Paris. Murder of the Princess de Lamballe. The Na- 
 tional Convention. The King brought to trial — sentence of Death 
 pronounced — beheaded on 21st Jan. 1793. Maria Antoinette on the 
 16th October, same year. Fate of the rest of the Royal Family. 
 
 The success of the 10th of August had sufficiently estab- 
 lished the democratic maxim, that the will of the people, ex- 
 pressed by their insurrections, was the supreme law; the ora- 
 tors of the clubs its interpreters; and the pikes of the suburbs 
 its executive power. 
 
 All the departments of France, without exception, paid the 
 most unreserved submission to the decrees of the Assembly, 
 or rather to those which the Community of Paris, and the in- 
 surgents, had dictated to that legislative body; so that the 
 hour seemed arrived when the magistracy of Paris, supported 
 by a democratic force, should, in the name and through the 
 influence of the Assembly, impose its own laws upon France. 
 
 La Fayette in vain endeavored to animate his soldiers 
 against this new species of despotism. The Jacobins had 
 their friends and representatives in the very trustiest of his 
 batallions. He made an effort, and a bold one. He seized 
 on the persons of three deputies, sent to him as commission- 
 
Chap, hi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 51 
 
 ers by the Assembly, to compel submission to their decrees, 
 and proposed to reserve them as hostages for the King's saf^ 
 ty. Several of his own general officers, the intrepid Dessais 
 amongst others seemed willing to support him, Dumouriez, 
 however, the personal enemy of La Fayette, and ambitious 
 of being his successor in the supreme command, recognized 
 the decrees of the Assembly in the separate army which he 
 commanded. His example drew over Luckner, who also 
 commanded an independent corps d'armee, and who at first 
 seemed disposed to join with La Fayette. 
 
 That unfortunate General was at length left unsupported by 
 any considerable part even of his own army; so that with 
 three friends, whose names were well known in the Revolu- 
 tion, he was fain to attempt an escape from France, and, in 
 crossing a part of the enemy's frontier, they were made pris- 
 oners by a party of Prussians and consigned as state prison- 
 ers to different fortresses. 
 
 Three men of terror, whose names will long remain, we 
 trust, unmatched in history by those of any similar miscreants, 
 had now the unrivalled leading of the Jacobins, and were 
 called the Triumvirate. Danton deserves to be named first, 
 as unrivalled by his colleagues in talent and audacity. He 
 was a man of gigantic size, and possessed a voice of thunder. 
 His countenance was that of an Ogre on the shoulders of a 
 Hercules. He was as fond of the pleasures of vice as of 
 the practice of cruelly; and it was said there were times when 
 he became humanized amidst his debauchery, laughed at the 
 terror 'which his furious declamations excited, and might be 
 approached with safety. 
 
 Robespierre possessed this advantage over Danton, that he 
 did not seem to seek for wealth, either for hoarding or ex- 
 pending, but lived in strict and economical retirement, to 
 justifiy the name of the 'Incorruptible', with which he was 
 honored by his partisans. He appears to have possessed lit- 
 tle talent, saving a deep fund of hypocrisy, considerable pow- 
 ers of sophistry, and a cold exaggerated strain of oratory, as 
 foreign to good taste, as the measures he recommended, were 
 to ordinary humanity. He never was known to pardon any 
 opposition, affront or even rivalry; and to be marked in his 
 tablets on such an account was a sure, though perhaps not an 
 immediate, sentence of death. Danton was a hero, compared 
 with this cold, calculating, creeping miscreant; for his pas- 
 sions, though exaggerated, had at least some touch of humani- 
 ty, and his brutal ferocity was supported by brutal courage. — * 
 
52 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap hi, 
 
 Robespierre was a coward, who signed death-warrants with a 
 hand that shook, though his heart was relentless. He possess- 
 ed no passions on which to charge his crimes; they were per- 
 petrated in cold blood, and upon mature deliberation. 
 
 Marat, the third of this infernal triumvirate, had attracted 
 the attention of the lower orders, by the violence of his senti- 
 ments in the journal which he conducted from the commence- 
 ment of the Revolution, upon such principles that it took the 
 1-ead in forwarding its successive changes. His political ex- 
 hortations began and ended like the howl of a blood-hound 
 for murder; or, if a wolf could have written a journal, the 
 gaunt and famished wretch could not have ravined more ea- 
 gerly for slaughter. It was blood which was Marat's constant 
 demand, not in drops from the breast of an individual, not in 
 puny streams from the slaughter of families, but blood in the 
 profusion of an ocean. His usual calculation of the heads 
 which he demanded amounted to two hundered and sixty thou- 
 sand; and though he sometimes raised it as high as three 
 hundred thousand, it never fell beneath the smaller number. 
 It may be hoped, and, for the honor of human nature, we are 
 inclined to believe, there was a touch of insanity in this un- 
 natural strain of ferocity; and the wild and squalid features 
 of the wretch appear to have intimated a degree of alienation 
 of mind. Marat was, like Robespierre, a coward. Repeat- 
 edly denounced in the Assembly, he skulked instead of de- 
 fending himself, and lay concealed in some obscure garret or 
 cellar among his cut-throats, until a storm appeared, when, 
 
 like a bird of ill omen, his death-screech was again heard. - 
 
 Such was the strange and fatal triumvirate, in which the same 
 degree of cannibal cruelty existed under different aspects. 
 Danton murdered to glut his rage; Robespierre, to avenge 
 his injured vanity, or to remove a rival whom he envied; 
 Marat, from the same instinctive love of blood, which indu- 
 ces a wolf to continue his ravage long after his hunger is ap- 
 peased. 
 
 The number of individuals accumulated in the various pris- 
 ons of Paris, had increased by arrests and domiciliary visits 
 subsequent to the 10th of August, to about eight thousand 
 persons. A force of armed banditti, Marsellois partly, and 
 partly chosen ruffians of the Fauxbourgs, proceeded to the 
 several prisons, into which they either forced their passage, 
 or were admitted by the jailors. A revolutionary tribunal was 
 formed from among the armed ruffians themselves, who ex- 
 amined the registers of the prisons, and summoned the cap- 
 
Chap, m.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 55 
 
 tives individually to undergo the form of a trial. If the 
 judges, as was almost always the case, declared for death, 
 their doom, to prevent the efforts of men in despair, was ex- 
 pressed in the words, "Give the prisoner freedom." The 
 victim was then thrust out into the street, or yard; he was 
 despatched by men and women, who, with sleeves-tucked up, 
 arms dyed elbow deep in blood, hands holding pikes, axes and 
 sabres, were executioners of the sentence; and by the man- 
 ner in which they did their office on the living, and mangled 
 the bodies of the dead, showed that they occupied their post 
 as much from pleasure as love of hire. 
 
 The captives were penned up in the dungeons like cattle 
 in a shambles, and in many instances might, from windows 
 which looked outwards, mark the fate of their comrades, hear 
 their cries, and behold their struggles, and learn from the 
 horrible scene, how they might best meet their own approach- 
 ing fate. 
 
 Many ladies, especially those belonging to the court, were 
 thus murdered. The Princess de Lamballe, whose only crime 
 seems to have been her friendship for Marie Antoinette, was 
 literally torn to pieces, and her head, and that of others, pa- 
 raded on pikes through the metropolis. It was carried to the 
 Temple on that accursed weapon, the features, yet beautiful 
 in death, and the long fair curls of the hair floating around 
 the spear. The murderers insisted that the King and Queen 
 should be compelled to come to the window to view this dread- 
 ful trophy. The municipal officers who were upon duty over 
 the royal prisoners, had difficulty, not merely in saving them 
 from this horrible inhumanity, but also in preventing the prison 
 from being forced. 
 
 In the brief intervals of this dreadful butchery, which lasted 
 for four days, the judges and executioners, ate, drank and 
 slept; and awoke from slumber, or rose from their meal with 
 fresh appetite for murder. There were places arranged for 
 the male, and for the female murderers, for the work had been 
 incomplete without the intervention of the latter. Prison af- 
 ter prison was invested, and under the same form of proceed- 
 ing, made the scene of the same inhuman butchery. 
 
 The bodies were interred in heaps, in immense trenches, 
 prepared beforehand by order of the Community of Paris; 
 but their bones have since been transferred to the subterra- 
 nean catacombs, which form the general charnel-house of the 
 city. In these melancholy regions, while other relics of mor- 
 tality lie exposed all around, the remains of those who perish- 
 
56 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. nr. 
 
 ed in the massacres of September are alone secluded from the 
 eye. The vault in which they repose is closed with a screen 
 of freestone, as if relating to crimes unfit to be thought of 
 even in the proper abode of death, and which France would 
 willingly hide in oblivion. 
 
 When the first accounts were read in the Constituent As- 
 sembly, of the massacres perpetrated at Avignon, the Presi- 
 dent fainted away, and the whole body manifested a horror as 
 well of the senses as of the mind; and now, that a far. more 
 cruel, more enduring, more extensive train of murders was 
 perpetrated under their own eye, the legislative Assembly 
 looked on in apathy. The utmost^ which the eloquence of 
 Vergniaud could extract from them was a decree, that in fu 
 ture the Community should be answerable with their own 
 lives for the security of the prisoners under their charge — 
 After passing this decree, the Legislative Assembly, being 
 the second Representative Body of the French nation dis- 
 solved itself according to the resolutions of the 10th of Au- 
 gust to give place to the National Convention. 
 
 The power of the Jacobins was irresistible in Paris where 
 Robespierre, Danton and Marat, who shared the high places 
 in their synagogue, were elected to the National Convention 
 by an immense majority; and of the twenty deputies who 
 represented Paris, there were not above five or six unconnect- 
 ed with the massacres. Nor were they any where unsuccess- 
 ful, whence there existed enough of their adherents to over- 
 awe by threats, clamour and violence, the impartial voice of 
 the public. 
 
 The Jacobins resolved to engage their adherents and all 
 whom they influenced, in proceeding to the death of Louis. 
 They had no reason to doubt that they might excite the popu- 
 lace to desire and demand that final sacrifice, and to consider 
 the moment of its being offered as a time of jubilee. Nor 
 were the better classes likely to take a warm or decisive in- 
 terest in the fate of their unhappy prince, so long the object of 
 unpopularity. 
 
 Meantime the King with the Queen, his sister and their 
 children, the Dauphin and the Princess Royal, remained in 
 the Tower of the Temple, more uncomfortably lodged, and 
 much more harshly treated, than state prisoners before the 
 Revolution had been in the execrable Bastile. The royal 
 prisoners were under the especial charge of the Community 
 of Pans, who, partly from their gross ignorance, partly from 
 their desire to display their furious Jacobinical zeal, did all in 
 their power to embitter their captivity. 
 
Chap, hi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. • b~ 
 
 On the 11th of December a formidable body of troops, with 
 artillery, drew up around the prison in which Louis was con- 
 fined. The mayor appeared and read to the King the Decree 
 of the Convention, that Louis Capet should be brought to 
 their bar. 
 
 The crowd pressed much on the King during the passage 
 from the Temple to the Tuilleries, where the Convention had 
 now established their sittings, as men who had slain and taken 
 possession. Loud cries were heard, demanding the life of 
 the tyrant; yet Louis preserved the most perfect composure, 
 even when he found himself standing as a criminal before an 
 assembly of his native subjects, born, most of them in a rank 
 which excluded them from judicial offices, till he himself had 
 granted the privilege. 
 
 u Louis," said the President, (the versatile, timorous, but 
 subtle Barrere,) " you may be seated." The King sat down 
 accordingly, and listened without apparent emotion, to a long 
 act of accusation, in which every accident that had arisen 
 out of the Revolution was gravely charged as a point of in- 
 dictment againt the King. He replied by short laconic an- 
 swers, which evinced great presence of mind and composure, 
 and alleged the decrees of the National Assembly as authori- 
 ty for the affair of Nancy, and the firing on the people in the 
 Champ de Mars, both of which were urged against him as 
 aggressions on the people. 
 
 The King was carried back to his prison amid threats and 
 abuse from the same banditti whose ranks he had before 
 traversed. 
 
 On the 26th of December he was again brought up, at- 
 tended by the three council who were allowed him, — Male- 
 sherbes, Tronchet and Deseze. His cause was ably and elo- 
 quently opened by the last of these. After descanting on 
 the several charges, he thus closed his address to the assem- 
 bly. " In this hall men have contended for the glory of the 
 10th of August. I come not to dispute that glory; but, since 
 it has been proved that that day was premeditated, how can it 
 be made a crime to Louis. And you accuse him! and you 
 would give judgment against him! against him who has nev- 
 er given a sanguinary order! against him who at Varennes, 
 preferred returning a captive, to exposing the life of a single 
 man! against him, who on the 20th, refused every kind of aid, 
 and preferred remaining alone in the midst of his people. — 
 Hear history speak. Louis mounted the throne at the age of 
 
58 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. hi. 
 
 twenty; he exhibited upon it an example of morals, of jus- 
 tice, of economy; he abolished servitude in his domains! the 
 people desired liberty, he gave it. We cannot deny to Louis 
 the glory of having always anticipated the wishes of his peo- 
 ple. I do not draw conclusions! I appeal to history! recol- 
 lect that history will judge your judgment. 
 
 Before Deseze ventured upon the performance of his task, 
 he had made every preparation necessary for his own death; 
 so sure was the fate, which seemed to await all those who 
 openly adhered to the interests of the throne. 
 
 Preparations, such as might have been expected, were made 
 for the day of trial. All the resources of art and violence 
 were employed to obtain a sentence of death and execution, 
 and to influence the populace against the King; sanguinary 
 petitions demanded his head, and a procession was made of 
 all the diseased and wounded people in the hospitals, who 
 were exhibted as patriots wounded on the 10th of August, 
 and came to the bar of the Convention, claiming vengeance 
 on the tyrant. 
 
 The number of suffrages was reduced by death, absence, 
 and refusals to vote, to seven hundred and twenty-one. Thir- 
 ty-four gave their opinions for death, with various restrictions; 
 two for imprisonment in chains, and three hundred and nine- 
 teen for confinement or banishment; total, th r ee hundred and 
 fifty-five. The number of votes for death absolutely was three 
 hundred and sixty-six. The President Vergniaud, after enu- 
 merating the suffrages, said, " The punishment pronounced 
 against Louis is DEATH." 
 
 During his passage to the place of execution, a profound 
 silence prevailed among the people. The escort amounted to 
 1200 men; the streets were crowded with national guards; 
 the doors of the houses were shut, and the police had strictly 
 forbidden any one to appear at the windows. The king con- 
 tinued reading his breviary with great devotion during the 
 slow and silent progress of the procession, till he arrived at 
 the foot of the guillotine erected between the pedestal which 
 had supported the statue of Louis XV, and the Champs Ely- 
 sees or Elysian Fields. 
 
 The king, having recommended his confessor to the care of 
 the national guards, threw off his coat, and was preparing to 
 ascend the scaffold, when they seized his hands to tie them 
 ijehind his back; his first movement was to repel the insult, 
 but Edgworth, his confessor, said, " Sire, this new humilia- 
 tion is another circumstance in which your majesty's suffer- 
 
Chap, in.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 59 
 
 ings, resemble those of our Saviour, who will soon be your 
 reward." The king's repugnance was instantly subdued, 
 and with a dignified air of resignation, he presented his hands. 
 The executioners drawing the cords with all their force, he 
 mildly said, " There is no need to pull so hard." While he 
 was ascending the steps, his confessor exclaimed, " Louis, 
 son of St. Louis, ascend to heaven." As soon as the king 
 came upon the scaffold, he surveyed for a few moments the 
 immense multitude. He then pronounced loud enough to be 
 heard at the garden of the Tuilleries, "Frenchmen! I die 
 innocent. I pardon all my enemies, and I wish that France" — 
 Here Santerre, fearing the effect of his address on the people, 
 interrupted him by giving a signal for the drums to beat and 
 the executioners to perform their office. They seized their 
 victim, and placed him under the axe of the guillotine. The 
 stroke was then given, and one of the executioners holding up 
 the head to be seen by the people, a few persons more cruel 
 or more mercenary than the rest, cried, Vive la Nation! Vive 
 la Republique! A troop of young men placed there for the 
 purpose, commenced a dance round the scaffold. Several 
 persons dipped the points of pikes, pieces of paper, and pock- 
 et-handkerchiefs, in the blood. 
 
 M. Le Due, an old servant of the king's father, prayed for 
 leave to inter him at Sens with the rest of his family; while 
 Legendre required permission to divide the corpse into eigh- 
 ty-four pieces, of which one should be sent to each of the 
 departments, and the heart to the Convention. At length it 
 was determined to bury him in a cemetary of that section of 
 Paris in which he had been imprisoned; and the body was 
 thrown, without any funeral ceremony, into a space in the 
 church-yard of St. Mary Magdalen, which was filled with 
 quicklime, carefully guarded, till the body was supposed to 
 be entirely consumed, and then levelled with the circumjacent 
 ground, that every trace of the spot where the monarch was 
 deposited might effectually be obliterated. 
 
 Not to mingle the fate of the illustrious victims of the royal 
 family with the general tale of the sufferers under the Reign 
 of Terror, we must here mention the deaths of the rest of that 
 illustrious house, which closed for a time a monarchy, that, 
 existing through three dynasties, had given sixty-six kings to 
 France. 
 
 It was not to be supposed, that the Queen was to be long 
 permitted to survive her husband. She had been even more 
 than he the object of revolutionary detestation; nay many were 
 
60 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, m, 
 
 disposed to throw on Marie Antoinette, almost exclusively 
 the blame of those measures, which they considered as coun- 
 ter revolutionary. She came to France a gay, young, and 
 beautiful Princess— she found in Louis, a faithful, affectionate 
 and almost uxorious husband. 
 
 The terms of her accusation were too basely depraved to 
 be even hinted at here. She scorned to reply to it, but ap- 
 pealed to all who had been mothers, against the very possibili- 
 ty of the horrors which were stated against her. The widow 
 of a King, the sister of an Emperor, was condemned to death, 
 dragged in an open tumbril to the place of execution, and 
 beheaded on the 16th of October, 1793. She suffered death 
 in her 39th year. 
 
 The Princess Elizabeth, sister of Louis, did not, by the 
 most harmless demeanour and inoffensive character, escape the 
 miserable fate in which the Jacobins had determined to in- 
 volve the whole family of Louis XVI. She was beheaded in 
 May 1794, and met her death as became the manner in which 
 her life had been spent. 
 
 The Dauphin was a promising child of seven years old, an 
 age at which no offence could have been given, and from 
 which no danger could have been apprehended. Neverthe- 
 less, it was resolved to destroy the innocent child, and by 
 means to which ordinary murders seem deeds of mercy. 
 
 The unhappy boy was put in charge of the most hard- 
 hearted villain whom the Community of Paris, well acquaint- 
 ed where such agents were to be found, were able to select 
 from their band of Jacobins. This wretch, a shoemaker, 
 called Simon, asked his employers, " what was to be done* 
 
 with the young wolf-whelp; was he to be slain?" — " No" 
 
 "What then?"— " He was to be got rid of." Accordingly, 
 by a continuance of the most severe treatment — by beating^ 
 cold, vigils, fasts and ill usage of every kind, so frail a blos- 
 som was soon blighted. He died on the 8th of June 1795. 
 
 After this last horrible crime, there was a relaxation in fa- 
 vor of the daughter, and now the sole child of this unhappy 
 house. The Princess Royal, whose qualities have since hon- 
 ored even her birth and blood, experienced from this period a 
 mitigated captivity. Finally, on the 19th of December 1795, 
 this last remaining relic of the family of Louis was permitted 
 to leave her prison and her country, in exchange for La Fay- 
 ette and others, whom, on that condition, Austria delivered 
 from captivity. 
 
Chap, jv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 61 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Civil war of La Vendee. Vendeans' method of fighting. Seige of Ly 
 ons, its surrender, and dreadful Punishment. Reign of Terror. Revo- 
 lutionary Tribunal. Horrors perpetrated at Nantes. Assassination of 
 Marat by Charlotte Corday. Danton condemned and executed. Ce- 
 cile Regnaud. Fall of Robespierre and return of tranquility. Ball of 
 the Victims. 
 
 The civil war of La Vendee was waged with various fate 
 for nearly two years, during which the insurgents or brigands 
 as they were termed, gained by far the greater number of ad- 
 vantages, though with means infinitely inferior to those of the 
 government, which detached against them one general after 
 another, at the head of numerous armies, with equally indif- 
 ferent success. Most of the Republicans entrusted with this 
 fatal command suffered by the guillotine, for not having done 
 that .which circumstances rendered impossible. 
 
 The tactics of the Vendeans were peculiar to themselves, 
 and of a kind so well suited to their country and their habits, 
 that it seems impossible to devise a better and more formida- 
 ble system. The Vendean took the field with the greatest 
 simplicity of military equipment. His scrip served as a 
 cartridge-box, his uniform was the country short jacket and 
 pantaloons, which he wore at his ordinary labor; a cloth 
 knapsack contained bread and some necessaries, and thus he 
 was ready for service. They were accustomed to move with 
 great secrecy and silence, among the thickets and enclosures 
 by which their country is intersected, and were thus enabled 
 to choose at pleasure the most favorable points of attack or 
 defence. Their army, unlike any other in the world, was not 
 divided into companies, or regiments, but followed in bands, 
 and at their pleasure, the chiefs to whom they were most at- 
 tached. Instead of drums or military music, they used, like 
 the ancient Swiss and Scottish soldiers, the horns of cattle for 
 giving signals to their troops. Their officers wore, for dis- 
 tinction, a sort of chequered red handkerchief knotted round 
 their head, with others of the same color tied round their 
 waist, by way of sash, in which they stuck their pistols. 
 
 The attack of the Vendeans was that of sharp-shooters.— 
 They dispersed themselves so as to surround their adversaries 
 with a semicircular fire, maintained by a body of formidable 
 marksmen accustomed to take aim with fatal precision, and 
 
62 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, iv 
 
 whoso skill was the more dreadful, because, being habituated 
 to take advantage of every tree, bush or point of shelter, 
 those who were dealing destruction amongst others, were them- 
 selves comparatively free from risk. This manoeuvre was 
 termed s'egailler; and the execution of it resembling the In- 
 dian bush-fighting, was, like the attack of the red warriors, 
 accompanied by whoops and shouts, which seemed, from 
 the extended space through which they resounded, to multiply 
 the number of the assailants. 
 
 When the Republicans, galled in this manner, pressed for- 
 ward to a close attack, they found no enemy on which to 
 wreak their vengeance; for the loose array of the Vendeans 
 gave immediate passage to the head of the charging column, 
 while its flanks, as it advanced, were still more exposed than 
 before to the murderous fire of their invisible enemies. In 
 this manner they were sometimes led on from point to point, 
 until the regulars meeting with a barricade, or an abbatis, or 
 a strong position in front, or becoming perhaps involved in a 
 defile, the Vendeans exchanged their fatal musketry for a close 
 and furious onset, throwing themselves with the most devoted 
 courage among the enemy's ranks, and slaughtering them in 
 great numbers. If, on the other hand, the insurgents were 
 compelled to give way, a pursuit was almost as dangerous to 
 the Republicans as an engagement. The Vendean, when 
 hard-pressed threw away his clogs, or wooden-shoes, of which 
 he could make himself a new pair at the next resting-place, 
 sprang over a fence or canal, loaded his fusee as he ran, and 
 discharged it at the pursuer with a fatal aim, whenever he 
 found an opportunity of pausing for that purpose. 
 
 This species of combat, which the ground rendered so ad- 
 vantageous to the Vendeans, was equally so in case of vic- 
 tory or defeat. If the Republicans were vanquished, their 
 army was nearly destroyed; for the preservation of order be- 
 came impossible, and without order their extermination was 
 inevitable, while baggage, ammunition, carriages, guns and 
 all the material part, as it is called, of the defeated army, feil 
 into possession of the conquerors. On the other hand, if the 
 Vendeans sustained a loss, the victors found nothing on the 
 field but the bodies of the slain, and the sabots or wooden- 
 shoes of the fugitives. The few prisoners whom they made 
 had generally thrown away or concealed their arms, and their 
 army having no baggage or carriages of any kind, could of 
 course lose none. Pursuit was very apt to convert an advan- 
 tage into a defeat; for the cavalry could not act, and the in- 
 
Chap, iv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 63 
 
 fantry dispersed in the chase, became frequent victims to those 
 whom they pursued. * 
 
 In the field, the Vendeans were courageous to rashness. — 
 They hesitated not to attack and carry artillery with no other 
 weapons than their staves; and most of their worst losses 
 proceeded from their attacking fortified towns and positions 
 with the purpose of carrying them by main force. After con- 
 quest they were generally humane and merciful. But this de- 
 pended on the character of their chiefs. At Machecoul, the 
 insurgents conducted themselves with great ferocity in the 
 very beginning of the civil war; and towards the end of it 
 mutual and reciprocal injuries had so exasperated the parties 
 against each other, that quarter was neither given nor ta- 
 ken on either side. Yet until provoked by the extreme cru- 
 elties of the revolutionary party, and unless when conducted 
 by some peculiarly ferocious chief, the character of the Ven- 
 deans united clemency with courage. They gave quarter 
 readily to the vanquished, but having no means of retaining pris- 
 oners, they usually shaved their heads before they set them at 
 liberty, that they might be distinguished, if found again in arms, 
 contrary to their parole. A no less striking feature, was the 
 severity of a discipline respecting property, which was taught 
 them only by their moral sense. No temptation could excite 
 them to pillage; and Madame La Roche-Jacquelein has pre- 
 served the following singular instance of their simple honesty: 
 
 After the peasants had taken the town of Bressuire by 
 
 storm, she overheard two or three of them complain of the 
 want of tobacco, to the use of which they were addicted, like 
 the natives of moist countries in general. " What," said the 
 lady, "is there no tobacco in the shops?"— "Tobacco enough,' 
 answered the simple-hearted and honest peasants, who had 
 not learned to make steel supply the want of gold,— " tobac- 
 co enough; but we have no money to pay for it." 
 
 Upwards of two hundred battles and skirmishes had been 
 fought in this devoted country. The revolutionary fever was 
 in its access; the shedding of blood seemed to have become 
 positive pleasure to the perpetrators of slaughter, and was 
 varied by each invention which cruelty could invent to give 
 it new zest. The habitations of the Vendeans were destroyed, 
 their families subjected to violation and massacre, their cattle 
 houghed and slaughtered, their crops burnt and wasted. One 
 Republican column assumed and merited the name of the In- 
 fernal, by the horrid attrocities which they committed. At 
 Pillau, they roasted the women and children in a heated oven 
 
64 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, i v. 
 
 Many similar horrors could be added, did not the heart and 
 hand recoil from the task. Without quoting any more special 
 instances of terror, we use the words of a Republican eye- 
 witness, to express the general spectacle presented by the 
 theatre of civil conflict. 
 
 " I did not see a single male being at the towns of Saint 
 Hermand, Chantonnay, or Herbiers. A few women alone 
 had escaped the sword. Country-seats, cottages, habitations 
 of whichever kind, were burnt. The herds and flocks were 
 wandering in terror around their usual places of shelter, now 
 smoking in ruins. I was surprised by night, but the waver- 
 ing and dismal blaze of conflagration afforded light over the 
 country. To the bleating of the disturbed flocks, and bellow- 
 ing of the terrified cattle, was joined the deep hoarse notes 
 of carrion crows, and the yells of wild animals coming from 
 the recesses of the woods to prey on the carcasses of the 
 slain. At length a distant column of fire, widening and in- 
 creasing as T approached, served me as a beacon. It was 
 the town of Mortagne in flames/ When I arrived there no 
 living creatures were to be seen, save a few wretched women 
 who were striving to save some remnants of their property 
 from the general conflagration. " 
 
 Bourdeaux, Marseilles, Toulon and Lyons, had declared 
 themselves against the Jacobin supremacy. Rich from com- 
 merce and their maritime situation, and, in the case of Lyons, 
 from their command of internal navigation, the wealthy mer- 
 chants and manufacturers of these cities foresaw the total in- 
 security of property, and in consequence their own ruin, in 
 the system of arbitrary spoliation and murder upon which the 
 government of the Jacobins was founded. 
 
 Lyons had expected to become the patroness and focus of 
 an Anti-Jacobin league, formed by the great commercial 
 towns against Paris and the predominant part of the Conven- 
 tion. She found herself isolated and unsupported, and left 
 to oppose her own proper forces and means of defence to 
 an army of sixty thousand men, and to the numerous Jaco- 
 bins contained within her own walls. About the end of July, 
 after a lapse of an interval of two months, a regular blockade 
 was formed around the city, and in the first week of August 
 hostilities took place. 
 
 General Precy, formerly an officer in the royal service, un- 
 dertook the almost hopeless task of defence, and by forming 
 redoubts on the most commanding situations around the town, 
 commenced a resistance against the immensely superior force 
 
Chap, iv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 65 
 
 of the besiegers, which was honorable, if it could have been 
 useful. The Lyonnois, at the same time, still endeavored to 
 make fair weather with the besieging army, by representing 
 themselves as firm Republicans. They celebrated a3 a public 
 festival the anniversary of the 10th of August, while Dubois 
 Crance, to show the credit he gave them for their republican 
 zeal, fixed the same day for commencing his fire on the place, 
 and caused the first gun to be discharged by his own concu- 
 bine, a female born in Lyons. Bombs and red-hot bullets 
 were next resorted to, against the second city of the French 
 empire; while the besieged sustained the attack with a con- 
 stancy, and on many parts repelled it with a courage, highly 
 honorable to their character. 
 
 But their fate was determined. The deputies announced 
 to the Convention their purpose of pouring their instruments 
 of havoc on every quarter of the town at once, and when it 
 was on fire in several places to attempt a general storm. — 
 " The city," they said, u must surrender, or there shall not 
 remain one stone upon another, and this we hope to accom- 
 plish in spite of the suggestions of false compassion. Do 
 not then be surprised when you shall hear that. Lyons exists 
 no longer." The fury of the attack threatened to make good 
 their promises. 
 
 The sufferings of the citizens became intolerable. Several 
 quarters of the city were on fire at the same time, immense 
 magazines were burnt to the ground, and a loss incurred dur- 
 ing two nights' bombardment, which was calculated at two 
 hundred millions of livres. A black flag was hoisted by the 
 besieged on the Great Hospital, as a sign that the fire of the 
 assailants should not be directed on that asylum of hopeless 
 misery. The signal seemed only to draw the Republican 
 bombs to the spot where they could create the most frightful 
 distress, and outrage in the higher degree the feelings of hu- 
 manity. The devastations of famine were soon added to 
 those of slaughter; and after two months of such horrors 
 had been sustained, it became obvious that further resistance 
 was impossible. 
 
 The military commandant of Lyons, Precy, resolved upon 
 a sally at the head of the active part of the garrison, hoping 
 that, by cutting his way through the besiegers, he might save 
 the lives of many of those who followed him in the desperate 
 attempt and gain the neutral territory of Switzerland, while 
 the absence of those who had been actual combatants during 
 the siege, might, in some degree, incline the Convention to 
 
66 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. iv. 
 
 lenient measures towards the more helpless part of the inhabi- 
 tants. A column of about two thousand men made this des- 
 perate attempt. But pursued by the Republicans, and attack- 
 ed on every side by the peasants, to whom they had been rep- 
 resented in the most odious colors by the Jacobin deputies, 
 and who were stimulated besides by the hope of plunder, 
 scarcely fifty of the devoted body reached, with their leader, 
 the protecting soil of Switzerland. Lyons reluctantly opened 
 her gates after the departure of her best and bravest. 
 
 The paralytic Couthon, with Collot D'Herbois, and other 
 deputies, were sent to Lyons by the Committee of Public 
 Safety, to execute the vengeance which the Jacobins demand- 
 ed. The principal streets and buildings were to be levelled 
 with the ground, and a monument, erected where they stood, 
 was to record the cause; — " Lyons rebelled against the Re- 
 public—Lyons is no more." The impotent Couthon was car- 
 ried from house to house devoting each to ruin, by striking 
 the door with a silver hammer, and pronouncing these words, 
 " House of a rebel, I condemn thee in the name of the 
 Law." Workmen followed in great multitudes, who executed 
 the sentence by pulling the house down to the foundations. — 
 This wanton demolition continued for six months, and is said 
 to have been carried on at an expense equal to that which the 
 superb military hospital, the Hotel des Invalides, cog its foun- 
 der, Louis XIV. But Republican vengeance did not waste 
 itself exclusively upon senseless lime and stone — it sought 
 out sentient victims. 
 
 The deserved death of Chalier had been atoned by an 
 apotheosis, executed after Lyons had surrendered; but Col- 
 lot D'Herbois declared that every drop of that patriotic blood 
 fell as if scalding his own heart, and that the murder demand- 
 ed atonement. All ordinary process, and every usual mode 
 of execution, was thought too tardy to avenge the death of a 
 Jacobin proconsul. The judges of the revolutionary com- 
 mission were worn out with fatigue — the arm of the execu- 
 tioner was weary— the very steel of the guillotine was blunt- 
 ed. Collot D'Herbois devised a more summary mode of 
 slaughter. A number of from two to three hundred victims 
 at once were dragged from prison to the Place de Brotteaux, 
 one of the largest squares in Lyons, and there subjected to a 
 fire of grape shot. Efficacious as this mode of execution may 
 seem, it was neither speedy nor merciful. The sufferers fell 
 to the ground like singed* flies, mutilated but not slain, and 
 imploring their executioners to despatch them speedily. This 
 
Chap, iv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 67 
 
 was done with sabres and bayonets, and with such haste and 
 zeal, that some of the jailors and assistants were slain along 
 with those whom they had assisted in dragging to death; and 
 the mistake was not discerned, until, upon counting the dead 
 bodies the military murderers found them amount to more 
 than the destined tale. The bodies of the dead were thrown 
 into the Rhone, to carry news of the Republican vengeance, 
 as Collot d'Herbois expressed himself, to Toulon, then also in 
 a state of revolt. But the sullen stream rejected the office 
 imposed on it, and heaved back the dead in heaps upon the 
 banks- and the Committee of Representatives was compelled 
 at length to allow the relics of their cruelty to be interred, to 
 prevent the risk of contagion. 
 
 The extraordinary criminal Court, better known by the 
 name of the Revolutionary Tribunal, was first instituted upon 
 the motion of Danton. Its object was to judge of state crimes, 
 plots and attempts against liberty, or in favor of royalty. 
 
 This frightful Court consisted of six judges or public accu- 
 sers, and two assistants. There were twelve jurymen; but 
 the appointment of these was mere mockery. It may be sure 
 the jurors and judges were selected for their Republican zeal 
 and steady qualities, and were capable of seeing no obstacle 
 either of law or humanity in the path of their duty. 
 
 The Revolutionary Tribunal was in a short time so over- 
 whelmed with work, that it became necessary to divide it into 
 four sections, all armed with similar powers. The quantity 
 of blood which it caused to be shed was something unheard 
 of even during the proscriptions of the Roman Empire; and 
 there were involved in its sentences crimes the most different, 
 personages the most opposed, and opinions the most dissimilar. 
 When Henry VIII, roused the fires of Smithfield both against 
 Protestant and Papist, burning at the same stake one wretch 
 for denying the King's supremacy, and another for disbeliev- 
 ing the divine presence in the Eucharist, the association was 
 consistency itself compared to the scenes presented at the 
 Revolutionary Tribunal, in which Royalist, Constitutionalist, 
 Girondist, Churchman, Theophilanthropist, Noble and Roturi- 
 er, Prince and Peasant, both sexes and all ages, were involv- 
 ed' in one general massacre, and sent to execution by scores 
 together, and on the same sledge. 
 
 We have mentioned the murders committed at Lyons; but 
 even these, though hundreds were swept away by vollies of 
 musket-shot, fell short of the horrors perpetrated by Carrier 
 at Nantes, one of the " Commissioners of Public Safety," 
 
68 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. iv. 
 
 who, m avenging the Republic on the obstinate resistance of 
 La Vendee, might have summoned hell to match his cruelty, 
 without a demon venturing to answer his challenge. Hun- 
 dreds, men, women and children, were forced on board of ves- 
 sels which were scuttled and sunk in the Loire, and this was 
 called republican baptism. Men and women were stripped, 
 bound together, and thus thrown into the river, and this was 
 called republican marriage. But we have said enough to 
 show that men's blood seems to have been converted into poi- 
 son, and their hearts into stone, by the practices in which 
 they were daily engaged. Many affected even a lust of cru- 
 elty, and the instrument of punishment was talked of with the 
 fondness and gaiety with which we speak of a beloved and 
 fondled object. It had its pet name of the little National 
 Window, and others equally expressive; and although saints 
 were not much in fashion, was, in some degree, canonized by 
 the name of the Holy Mother Guillotine. That active citizen, 
 the Executioner, had also his honors, as well as the senseless 
 machine which he directed. This official was addmitted to 
 the society of some of the more emphatic patriots, and shared 
 in their civic festivities. It may be questioned whether even 
 his company was not too good for the patrons who thus re- 
 galed him. 
 
 The reader need not be reminded, that the three distinguish- 
 ed champions who assumed the front in the Jacobin ranks, 
 were Marat, Danton and Robespierre. The first was poinard- 
 ed by Charlotte Corday, an enthusiastic young person, who 
 had nourished, in a feeling betwixt lunacy and heroism, the 
 ambition of ridding the world of a tyrant. Danton and Robes- 
 pierre, reduced to a Duumvirate, might have divided the pow- 
 er betwixt them. But Danton, far the more able and power- 
 ful minded man, could not resist temptations to plunder and 
 to revel; and Robespierre, who took care to preserve proof 
 of his rival's peculations, a crime of peculiarly unpopular 
 character, and from which he seemed to keep his own hands 
 pure, possessed thereby the power of ruining him whenever 
 he should find it convenient. Danton married a beautiful wo- 
 man, became a candidate for domestic happiness, withdrew 
 himself for some time from state affairs, and quitted the stern 
 and menacing attitude which he had presented to the public 
 during the earlier stages of the Revolution. Still his ascend- 
 ancy, especially in the Club of Cordeliers, was formidable 
 enough to command Robespierre's constant attention, and 
 keep awake his envy, which was like the worm that dieth not, 
 
Chap, iv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 69 
 
 though it did not draw down any indication of his immediate 
 and active vengeance. 
 
 On the morning of the 31st of March 1794, the Parisians 
 and the members of the Convention hardly dared whisper to 
 each other, that Danton, whose name had been as formidable 
 as the sound of the tocsin, had been arrested like any poor 
 ex-noble, and was in the hands of the fatal lictors. 
 
 There was no end of exclamation and wonder; for Danton 
 was the great apostle, the very Mahomet of Jacobinism. — 
 His gigantic stature, his huge and ferocious physiognomy, his 
 voice which struck terror in its notes of distant thunder, and 
 the energies of talent and vehemence mingled, which supplied 
 that voice with language worthy of its deep tones, were suchj 
 as became the prophet of that horrible and fearful sect. Man 
 rat was a madman, raised into consequence only by circum- 
 stances,— Robespierre, a cold, creeping, calculating hypocrite, 
 whose malignity resembled that of a paltry and second-rate 
 fiend, — but Danton was a character for Shakspeare or Schil- 
 ler to have drawn in all its broad lights and shades; or Bruce 
 could have sketched from him a yet grander Ras Michael than 
 he of Tigre. His passions were a hurricane, which, furious, 
 regardless and desolating in its course, had yet its intervals 
 of sunshine and repose. Neither good by nature, nor just by 
 principle or political calculation, men were often surprised at 
 finding he still possessed some feelings of generosity, and 
 some tendency even towards magnanimity. 
 
 Danton, before his fall, seemed to have lost much of his 
 sagacity as well as energy. He had full warning of his dan- 
 ger from La Croix, Westerman and others, yet took no steps 
 either for escape or defence, though either seemed in his pow- 
 er. Still his courage was in no degree abated, or his haughty 
 spirit tamed; although he seemed to submit passively to his 
 fate with the disheartening conviction, vhich often unmans 
 great criminals, that his hour was come. 
 
 Danton's process was, of course a short one. He and his 
 comrades, Camille Desmoulins, Westerman and La Croix, 
 were dragged before the Revolutionary Tribunal. As judges, 
 witnesses, accusers and guards, Danton was now surrounded 
 by those who had been too humble to aspire to be companions 
 of his attrocities, and held themselves sufficiently honored in 
 becoming his agents. They looked on his unstooping pride 
 and unshaken courage, as timid spectators upon a lion in a 
 cage, while they still doubt the security of the bars, and have 
 little confidence in their own personal safety. He answered 
 
70 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. iv. 
 
 to the formal interrogatories concerning his name and dwelling, 
 11 My dwelling will soon be with annihilation — my name will 
 live in the Pantheon of History." Camille Desmoulins, Her- 
 ault les Sechelles, Fabre d'Eglantine, men of considerable 
 literary talent, and amongst the few Jacobins who had any 
 real pretension to such accomplishments, shared his fate. — 
 Westermann was also numbered with them, the same officer 
 who directed the attack on the palace of the Tuilleries on the 
 10th of August, and who afterwards was distinguished by so 
 many victories and defeats in La Vendee, that he was called, 
 from his activity, the scourge of that district. 
 
 Had Danton been condemned for his real crimes, the doom 
 ought, in justice, to have involved judges, jurors, witnesses, 
 and most of the spectators in the court. The power of Robes- 
 pierre was still predominant with the Revolutionary Tribunal, 
 and after a gallant, and unusually long defence, (of which no 
 notice was permitted to appear in the Moniteur,) Danton and 
 his associates were condemned, and carried to instant execu- 
 tion. They maintained their firmness, or rather hardened- 
 ness of character, to the last; and when Danton observed 
 Fabre d'Eglantine beginning to look gloomy, he cheered him 
 with a play on words. u Courage, my friend," he said, in his 
 deep, sullen tone of voice, " we are all about to take up your 
 trade — Nous allons faire des vers,'* 
 
 Alluding to Robespierre's having been the instrument of 
 his destruction, Danton had himself exclaimed, "The cow- 
 ardly poltroon! I am the only person who could have com- 
 manded influence enough to save him." And the event show- 
 ed that he spoke with the spirit of prophecy which the ap- 
 proach of fate has been sometimes thought to confer. 
 
 Meanwhile the despot, whose looks made even the demo- 
 crats of The Mountain tremble, when directed upon them, 
 shrunk himself before the apprehended presence of a young 
 female. Cecile Regnaud, a girl, and, as it would seern, un- 
 armed, came to his house and demanded to see Robespierre. 
 Her manner exciting some suspicion, she was seized upon by 
 the body-guard of Jacobins, who day and night watched the 
 den of the tyrant, amidst riot and blasphemy, while he endeav- 
 ored to sleep under the security of their neighborhood. — 
 When the young woman was brought before the Revolution- 
 ary Tribunal, she would return no answers to the questions 
 respecting her purpose, excepting that she wished to see "what 
 a tyrant was like." She was condemned to the guillotine of 
 course; and about sixty persons were executed as associates 
 
Chap, iv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 71 
 
 • 
 
 of a conspiracy, which was never proved, by deed or word, 
 to have existed at all. The victims were drawn at hazard out 
 of the prisons, where most of them had been confined for 
 months previous to the arrest of Cecile Regnaud, on whose ac- 
 count they were represented as suffering. Many have thought 
 the crime entirely imaginary, and only invented by Robes- 
 pierre to represent his person as endangered by the plots of 
 the aristocracy, and attach to himself a part at least of the 
 consequences, which Marat had acquired by the act of Char- 
 lotte Corday. 
 
 The people themselves were now beginning to be less pas- 
 sive. They no longer saw the train of victims pass daily to 
 the guillotine, in the Place de la Revolution, with stupid won- 
 der, or overwhelming fear, but, on the contrary, with the sul- 
 lenness of manifest resentment, that waited but an opportuni- 
 ty to display itself. The citzens in the Rue St. Honore shut 
 up their shops at the hours when the fatal tumbrils passed to 
 the scene of death, and that whole quarter of the city was 
 covered with gloom. 
 
 These ominous feelings, were observed, and the fatal en- 
 gine was removed to a more obscure situation at the Barrier 
 de la Trone near the Fauxbourg St. Antoine, to the inhabi- 
 tants of which it was thought a daily spectacle of this nature 
 must be an interesting relief from labor. But even the peo- 
 ple of that turbulent suburb had lost some of their Republi- 
 can zeal — the men's feelings were altered. They saw, in- 
 deed, blood stream in such quantities, that it was necessary to 
 make an artificial conduit to carry it off; but they did not feel 
 that they, or those belonging to them, received any advan- 
 tages from the number of victims, daily immolated, as they 
 were assurred, in their behalf. The constant effusion of 
 blood, without plunder or license to give it zest, disgusted 
 them, as it would have disgusted all but literal cannibals, to 
 whose sustenance, indeed, the Revolutionary Tribunal would 
 have contributed plentifully. 
 
 Robespierre saw all this increasing unpopularity with much 
 anxiety. In vain did he endeavor to regain his ascendency 
 by his influence with the Jacobin club, and the support of 
 Henriot, commander of the national guards. He was accus- 
 ed of aspiring to the rank of dictator, and one of his prosecu- 
 tors concluded his speech by observing, "we must either fall 
 on him with our bodies, or suffer tyrants to triumph. He 
 would have mutilated the convention and murdered its repre- 
 sentatives." When Robespierre would have possessed him- 
 
M CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, iv 
 
 • 
 
 eelf of the triune, with an intention to harangue the au- 
 dience, he wa? forcibly prevented, and his voice was over- 
 powered by cnes of " Down with the tyrant! Down with the 
 tyrant!" Tallien displayed with vehement eloquence, all the 
 crimes which disgraced his character, comparing his proscrip- 
 tions to those of Sylla; and, drawing forth a dagger from his 
 girdle, while he turned to the bust of Brutus, whose genius 
 he invoked, he swore " that he would plunge it into the heart 
 of Robespierre, if the representatives of the people had not 
 courage to order his arrest and to break their chains." A de- 
 cree was immediately passed for the arrest of the two Robes- 
 pierres, St, Just, Couthon, Henriot and La Vallette. Robes- 
 pierre was seized, but released by a party of Jacobins, who 
 conducted him to the Hotel de Ville, where the commune of 
 Paris was assembled. The Jacobins and municipality of Pa- 
 ris were decidedly in favor of Robespierre, and Henriot, who 
 had made his escape from the guards, brought a strong body 
 of troops to his support. But the Parisians declared for the 
 convention, and many of Henriot's troops, when they heard 
 that their leader was outlawed, followed their example. The 
 resolute aspect assumed by the convention, and the want of 
 promptitude on the part of their antagonists, in availing them- 
 selves of the military force under their command, decided the 
 fortune of the day. When Paris was a scene of uproar and 
 confusion, Bourdon d'Oise, rushing with a band of soldiers 
 into the hall of the commune, ordered the outlawed members 
 to be arrested. The younger Robespierre leaped out of a 
 window, but was taken up miserably bruised and wounded. 
 St. Just, too pusillanimous to effect his own destruction, im- 
 plored Lebas to shoot him. "Coward," answered Lebas, 
 " I have something else to do," and immediately blew out his 
 own brains. Couthon lay beneath the table brandishing a 
 knife, with which he repeatedly wounded his bosom, without 
 daring to add force enough to reach his heart. Coffinhal in a 
 rage, threw Henriot out of the window; he crept into a com- 
 mon sewer, and was drawn forth covered with blood and filth, 
 by some soldiers who beat out one of his eyes; the remaining 
 adherents of Robespierre were captured without difficulty, 
 and he himself was found in one of the apartments of the 
 Hotel de Viile, sitting squat against the wall, with a knife in 
 his hand, apparently intended for the purpose of destruction, 
 but which he durst not use. A soldier who discovered him, 
 apprehending some resistance, fired two pistols at him, one 
 of which wounded him on the head, and the other broke his 
 
Chap, iv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 73 
 
 under jaw; he was taken and conducted before frie committee 
 of general security in an arm chair; his broken jaw bound up 
 with a cloth. As he was carried along in this condition, he 
 rested his chin on a handkerchief which he held in his right 
 hand, while the elbow was supported by his left. A message 
 was sent to the convention to know if he should be brought 
 to the bar, but the members unanimously exclaimed, that they 
 would no longer suffer their hall to be polluted by the pres- 
 ence of such a monster. He lay for some hours in an anti- 
 chamber of the committee of general security, stretched on a 
 table, motionless and apparently insensible of corporeal an- 
 guish, though the blood flowed from his eyes, mouth and 
 nostrils; but, torn by distracting recollections, and abandoned 
 to remorse, he pinched his thighs with convulsive agony, and 
 scowled gloomily around the room when he fancied himself 
 unobserved. After enduring, in this situation, the taunts of all 
 who beheld him, he was replaced in the arm chair, and carried 
 to the hospital named the Hotel Dieu, where his wounds were 
 dressed merely to prolong his existence, and from thence was 
 sent to the prison of the Conciergerie. He was brought on 
 the same day, before the Revolutionary Tribunal, where se.> 
 tence of death was demanded against him and twenty-one 
 others, by their former friend and creature Tonquier Tinville, 
 the public accuser. At five o'clock in the evening they were 
 conducted to the place of execution, amidst the acclamations 
 of the numerous spectators. Even the guards who escorted 
 them, partook of the general transport, and joined the cry of 
 Vive le Convention! A group of women stopped the carts 
 and danced round them to testify their joy. Robespierre, pale 
 and disfigured, held down his head on his breast, and looked 
 up but once, when a woman decently dressed approached 
 the cart, and uttered such heart-piercing exclamations and 
 deep-drawn maledictions, as proved to the observers that she 
 was a mother whom his cruelty had deprived of her son, or a 
 widow from whom he had snatched her husband. At hearing 
 her horrible denunciations, Robespierre turned his eyes lan- 
 guidly towards her, and shrugged up his shoulders. He suf- 
 fered the last but one. When he was about to be tied to the 
 fatal plank, the executioner snatched the dressing from his 
 broken jaw; which immediately fell, and a profusion.of blood 
 gushed out; the horrible chasm occasioned by this accident, 
 rendered his head, when severed from his body, and held up 
 to the public view, a hideous and disgusting spectacle. 
 
 On the ensuing day (July 29th,) the tyrant was followed to 
 
 4 
 
74 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, jv, 
 
 the scaffold by sixty-two other members of the Convention, 
 who also had been outlawed. Barrere, in the name of his as- 
 sociates, proposed the further proscription of those who had 
 been most deeply interested in the late system of policy; but 
 this proposition was over-ruled, and strict justice, tempered 
 with moderation, declared to be the order of the day. Many 
 thousands of those who had been imprisoned on the bare sus- 
 picion of disaffection to the ruling faction were liberated in 
 defiance of the opposition of the remaining terrorists. The 
 principal agents of that dreadful oppression and odious tyran- 
 ny which had been practised in the provinces to the generals 
 who commanded the troops and to the inhabitants themselves, 
 were brought to punishment; the Jacobin club was suppress- 
 ed. The powers of the two committees of general and pub- 
 lic safety, were circumscribed by a regulation that they 
 should be renewed monthly, and the scheme of a temporary 
 government, intended to correct the abuses practised by the 
 late administration, was proposed by Barrere, and adopted. — 
 Intelligence of these changes was dispersed through the dif- 
 ferent departments, and the French nation indulged a hope 
 of again enjoying the blessing of domestic tranquility. 
 
 At length society began to resume its ordinary course, and 
 the business and pleasures of life succeeded each other as 
 usual. But even social pleasures brought with them strange 
 and gloomy associations with that Yalley of the Shadow of 
 Death, through which the late pilgrimage of France appeared 
 to have lain. An assembly for dancing, very much frequent- 
 ed by the young of both sexes, and highly fashionable, was 
 called the "Ball of the Victims." The qualification for at- 
 tendance was the having lost some near and valued relation or 
 friend in the late reign of Terror. The hair and head-dress 
 were so arranged as to resemble the preparations made for 
 the guillotine, and the motto adopted was, " We dance amidst 
 tombs." In no country but France could the incidents have 
 taken place which gave rise to this association; and certainly 
 in no country but France would they have been used for 
 such a purpose. 
 
Chap, v.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 75 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Corsica. Napoleon born, 1769. Sent to the Royal Military School- 
 Appointed Captain of Artillery. Siege of Toulon. Anecdotes during 
 the siege. Allied troops resolve to Evacuate Toulon. Dreadful par- 
 ticulars of the Evacuation. Napoleon appointed Chief of Battalion in 
 the Army of Italy. Returns to France, and obtains command of the 
 troops of Paris. Marries. Appointed Commander-in-Chief of the 
 Italian armies. Battle of Monte Notte. Terrible passage of the 
 Bridge of Lodi. 
 
 The Island of Corsica was, in ancient times, remarkable 
 as the scene of Seneca's exile, and in the last century was 
 distinguished by the memorable stand which the natives made 
 in defence of their liberties against the Genoese and French, 
 during a war which tended to show the high and indomitable 
 spirit of the islanders, united as it is with the fiery and vin- 
 dictive feelings proper to their country and climate. In this 
 island, which was destined to derive its future importance 
 chiefly from the circumstance, Napoleon Buonaparte, had 
 his origin. He was born on the 15th day of August, 1769, 
 at his father's house in Ajaccio. We read with interest, that 
 his mother's good constitution and bold character of mind 
 having induced her to attend mass upon the day of his birt^ 
 (being the Festival of the Assumption,) she was oblige tO 
 return home immediately, and as there was no time to p.epare 
 a bed or bedroom, she was delivered of the future victor upon 
 a temporary couch prepared for her accommodation, and cov- 
 ered with an ancient piece of tapestry, representing the he- 
 roes of the Iliad. The young Napoleon had, of course, the 
 simple and hardy education proper to the natives of the moun- 
 tainous island of his birth, and in his infancy was not remark- 
 able for more than that animation of temper, and wilfulness 
 and impatience of inactivity, by which childre-n of quick parts 
 and lively sensibility are usually distinguished. 
 
 The Governor of Corsica, interested himself in the young 
 Napoleon, so much as to obtain him an appointment to the 
 Royal Military School at Brienne, which was maintained at the 
 royal expense, in order to bring up youths for the engineer 
 and artillery service. Nothing could be more suitable to the 
 nature of young Buonaparte's genius, than the line of study 
 which thus fortunately was opened before him. His ardor 
 for the abstract sciences amounted to a passion, and was com- 
 
76 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. v. 
 
 bined with a singular aptitude for applying them to the pur- 
 poses of war, while his attention to pursuits so interesting and 
 exhaustless in themselves, was stimulated by his natural am- 
 bition and desire of distinction. Almost all the scientific 
 teachers at Brienne, being accustomed to study the character 
 of their pupils, and obliged by their duty to make memoranda 
 and occasional reports on the subject, spoke of the talents of 
 Buonaparte, and the progress of his studies, with admiration. 
 
 In 1783, Napoleon Buonaparte, then only fourteen years 
 old, was, though under the usual age, selected by Monsieur 
 de Keralio, the inspector of the twelve military schools, to be 
 sent to have his education completed in the general school of 
 Paris. It was a compliment paid to the precocity of his ex- 
 traordinary mathematical talent, and the steadiness of his ap- 
 plication. 
 
 In his seventeenth year he received his first commission as 
 second lieutenant in a regiment of artillery, and was immedi- 
 ately afterwards promoted to the rank of first lieutenant in 
 the corps quartered at Valance. He mingled with society 
 when he joined his regiment, more than he had hitherto been 
 accustomed to do; mixed in public amusements, and exhibit- 
 ed the powers of pleasing which he possessed in an uncom- 
 mon degree, when he chose to exert them. His handsome 
 and intelligent features, with his active and neat, though 
 slight figure, gave him additional advantages. Early in the 
 year 1792, he became a captain in the artillery by seniority; 
 and in the same year, being at Paris, he witnessed the two in- 
 surrections of the 22d June and the 10th of August. He was 
 accustomed to speak of the insurgents as the most dispicable 
 banditti, and to express with what ease a determined officer 
 could have checked these apparently formidable, but dastard- 
 ly and unwieldly masses. But with what a different feeling 
 of interest would Napoleon have looked on that infuriated 
 populace, those still resisting though overpowered Swiss, and 
 that burning palace, had any seer whispered to him, " Em- 
 peror that shall be, all this blood and massacre is but to pre- 
 pare your future empire. v 
 
 The Siege of Toulon was the first incident of importance 
 which enabled Buonaparte to distinguish himself in the eyes 
 of the French government, and of the world at large. He 
 was promoted to the rank of a brigadier-general of artillery, 
 with the command of the artillery during the siege. At a 
 council of war, the instructions of the Committee of Public 
 Safety were read, directing that the siege of Toulon should 
 
Chap, v.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 77 
 
 be commenced according to the usual forms, by investing the 
 body of the place, in other words, the city itself. The orders 
 of the Committee of Public Safety were no safe subject of 
 discussion or criticism for those who were to act under them; 
 yet Buonaparte ventured to recommend their being departed 
 from on this important occasion. His comprehensive genius 
 had at once discovered a less direct, yet more certain manner, 
 of obtaining the surrender of the place. He advised, that 
 neglecting the body of the town, the attention of the besieg- 
 ers should be turned to attain possession of the promontory, 
 called Hauteur de Grasse, by driving the besieged from the 
 strong work of Fort Mulgrave, and the two redoubts of 
 L'Eguillette and Balagniere, by means of which the English 
 had established the line of defence necessary to protect the 
 fleet and harbor. The fortress of Mai bosquet, on the same 
 point, he also recommended as a principal object of attack. — 
 He argued, that if the besiegers succeeded in possessing 
 themselves of these fortifications, they must obtain a complete 
 command of the roads where the English fleet lay, and oblige 
 them to put to sea. They would, in the same manner, effec- 
 tually command the entrance of the bay, and prevent sup- 
 plies or provisions from being thrown into the city. If the 
 garrison were thus in danger of being totally cut off* from 
 supplies by their vessels being driven from their anchorage, 
 it was natural to suppose that the English troops would rather 
 evacuate Toulon than remain within the place, blockaded on 
 every side, until they might be compelled to surrender by 
 famine. 
 
 The plan was adopted by the council of war after much 
 hesitation, and the young officer by whom it was projected 
 received full powers to carry it on. He rallied round him a 
 number of excellent artillery officers and soldiers; assembled 
 against Toulon more than two hundred pieces of cannon, well 
 served; and stationed them so advantageously, that he annoy- 
 ed considerably the English vessels in the roads, even before 
 he had constructed those batteries on which he depended for 
 reducing Fort Mulgrave and Malbosquet, by which they were 
 in a great measure protected. 
 
 One of the dangers which he incurred was of a singular 
 character. An artilleryman being shot at the gun which he 
 was serving, while Napoleon was visiting a battery, he took 
 up the dead man's rammer, and to give encouragement to the 
 soldiers, charged the gun repeatedly with his own hands. — 
 Upon another occasion, while Napoleon was overlooking the 
 
78 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. v. 
 
 construction of a battery, which the enemy endeavored to in- 
 terrupt by their fire, he called for some person who could 
 write, that he might dictate an order. A young soldier step 
 ped out of the ranks, and resting the paper on the breast- 
 work, began to write accordingly. A shot from the enemy's 
 battery covered the letter with earth the instant it was finisk 
 ed. "Thank you — we shall have no occasion for sand this 
 bout," said the military secretary. The gaiety and courage 
 of the remark drew Buonaparte's attention on the young man, 
 who was the celebrated General Junot, afterwards created 
 Duke D'Abrantes. During this siege, also, he discovered 
 the talents of Duroc, afterwards one of his most faithful ad- 
 herents. In these and many other instances, Buonaparte 
 showed his extensive knowledge of mankind, by the deep sa- 
 gacity which enabled him to discover and attach to him those 
 whose talents were most distinguished, and most capable of 
 rendering him service. 
 
 Five batteries were opened on Fort Mulgrave, the posses- 
 sion of which Buonaparte considered as ensuring success. — 
 After a fire of twenty-four hours, Dugommier and Napoleon 
 resolved to try the fate of a general attack. The attacking 
 column advanced before day, during a heavy shower of rain. 
 They were at first driven back on every point by the most de- 
 termined opposition; and Dugommier, as he saw the troops 
 fly in confusion, exclaimed, well knowing the consequences 
 of bad success to a General of the Republic, " I am a lost 
 man!" Renewed efforts, however, at last prevailed; the 
 Spanish artillerymen giving way on one point, the fort fell in- 
 to the possession of the French, who showed no mercy to its 
 defenders. 
 
 The officers of the allied troops* after a hurried council of 
 war, resolved to evacuate Toulon/since the posts gained by 
 the French must drive the English ships from their anchorage, 
 and deprive them of a future opportunity of retreating, if 
 they neglected the passing moment. 
 
 The safety of the unfortunate citizens, who had invoked 
 the protection of the British was not neglected, even amid 
 the confusion of the retreat. The numerous merchant ves- 
 sels and other craft, offered means of transportation to all, 
 who, having to fear the resentment of the republicans, might 
 be desirous of quitting Toulon. Such was the dread of the 
 victors' cruelty, that upwards of fourteen thousand persons 
 accepted this melancholy refuge. Meantime there was other 
 work to do. 
 
Chap, v.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 79 
 
 It had been resolved, that the arsenal and naval stores, 
 with such of the French ships as were not ready for sea, 
 should be destroyed; and they were set on fire accordingly. — 
 The rising conflagration growing redder and redder, seemed 
 at length a great volcano, amid which were long distinctly 
 seen the masts and yards of the burning vessels, and which 
 rendered obscurely visible the advancing bodies of republican 
 troops, who attempted on different points to push their way in- 
 to the place. The Jacobins began to rise in the town upon 
 the flying Royalists; — horrid screams and yells of vengeance, 
 and revolutionary chorusses, were heard to mingle with the 
 cries and plaintive entreaties of the remaining fugitives, who 
 had not yet found means of embarkation. The guns from Mal- 
 bosquet, now possessed by the French, and turned on the 
 bulwarks of the town, increased the uproar. At once a shock 
 like that of an earthquake, occasioned by the explosion of 
 many hundred barrels of gunpowder, silenced all noise save 
 its own, and threw high into the midnight heaven a thousand 
 blazing fragments, which descended, threatening ruin wherev- 
 er they fell. A second explosion took place, as the other 
 magazine blew up, with the same dreadful effects. 
 
 It was upon this night of terror, conflagration, tears and 
 blood, that the star of Napoleon first ascended the horizon; 
 and though it gleamed over many a scene of horror ere it set, 
 it may be doubtful whether its light was ever blended with 
 those of one more dreadful. 
 
 The young General of artillery was now rapidly rising in 
 reputation. The praises which were suppressed by the rep- 
 resentatives of the people, were willingly conferred and pro- 
 mulgated by the frank old veteran Dugommier. Buonaparte's 
 name was placed on the list of those whom he recommended 
 for promotion, with the pointed addition, that if neglected, he 
 would be sure to force his own way. He was accordingly 
 confirmed in his provisional situation of Chief of Battalion, 
 and appointed to hold that rank in the army of Italy. 
 
 He proceeded to join the head quarters of the French ar- 
 my, then lying at Nice, straitened considerably and hemmed 
 in by the Sardinians and Austrians, who, after some vain at- 
 tempts of General Brunet to dislodge them, had remained 
 masters of the Col di Tende, and lower passes of the Alps, 
 together with the road leading from Turin to Nice by Saorgio. 
 
 Buonaparte had influence enough to recommend with suc- 
 cess to the general, Dumorbion, a plan for driving the enemy 
 out of this position, forcing them to retreat beyond the higher 
 
80 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON, [Chap. v. 
 
 Alps, and taking Saorgio; all which measures succeeded as 
 he had predicted. Saorgio surrendered, with much stores 
 and baggage, and the French army obtained possession of the 
 chain of higher Alps, which, being tenable by defending few 
 and difficult passes, placed a great part of the army of Italy, 
 (as it was already termed, though only upon the frontier,) at 
 disposal for actual service. While directing the means of at- 
 taining these successes, Buonaparte, at the same time, ac- 
 quired a complete acquaintance with that Alpine country, in 
 which he was shortly to obtain victories in his own name, not 
 in that of others, who obtained reputation by acting on his 
 suggestions. 
 
 After the establishment of the Directory as the Executive 
 department of the Government, Buonaparte obtained the com- 
 mand of the troops of Paris, a situation, which, if it did not 
 present a field for military activity and fame, tended to bring 
 him into notice, and make him acquainted with the leading 
 men of the different political parties. It afforded him howev- 
 er, one occasion which first displayed his extraordinary mili- 
 tary talents. 
 
 The convention having continued in session three years, 
 framed a new constitution of government, and transmitted it 
 to the people, in connection with a decree they had passed, 
 which required that the electorial bodies in organizing the 
 new government should choose two thirds of the Deputies 
 from the members of the Convention, and that in case they 
 did not, the Convention should itself appoint that number 
 from its own members. This decree was considered as vio- 
 lating the fundamental rights of the people, and the princi- 
 ples of the constitution which the Convention had formed, as 
 that purported to be an elective government. Great excite- 
 ment was produced, and the Parisians in defiance of the Con- 
 vention, met in their primary assemblies and elected their 
 deputies without regarding the decree. The Convention em- 
 ployed a military force to disperse them; the Parisians were 
 terrified at the time, but continued to inveigh against the ar- 
 bitrary conduct of the Convention, and persisted in their de- 
 signs of disregarding the obnoxious decree. The Parisians 
 having transformed the citizens intp soldiers, on the 4th of 
 October 1795, marched against the troops of the Convention, 
 at the head of whom, was the young general Buonaparte. — 
 A most desperate and sanguinary conflict ensued; the Pa- 
 risians fought with the greatest bravery and enthusiasm; but 
 the military skill and generalship of young Buonaparte decid- 
 
Chap, v.] CAMPA^JNS OF NAPOLEON. 81 
 
 ed the victory. Yast multitudes of citizens were collecting 
 from all quarters to reinforce the Parisian troops, but they 
 were overawed by the signal success of the Convention 
 troops, and the great slaughter that had been made. About 
 one thousand of the Parisians were killed; the insurgents 
 submitted, and the power of the Convention was established 
 over the Capital. 
 
 About this period Buonaparte married Madame Josephine 
 Beauharnois, widow of Yiscount de Beauharnois, who had 
 been a member of the National Assembly, and was president of 
 that body in 1791. They were married in March 1796, and the 
 dowry of the bride was the chief command of the Italian ar- 
 mies, a scene which opened a full career to the ambition of 
 the youthful general. Buonaparte remained with his wife only 
 three days after his marriage, and proceeded rapidly to com- 
 mence the career to which Fate called him, by placing himself 
 at the head of the Italian army. 
 
 It may be imagined with what delight the General, scarce 
 aged twenty-six, advanced to an independent field of glory 
 and conquest, confident in his own powers, and in the perfect 
 knowledge of the country which he had acquired. 
 
 No man ever possessed in a greater degree than Buonaparte, 
 the power of calculation and combination necessary for di- 
 recting decisive manoeuvres. It constituted indeed his secret, 
 as it was for some time called, and that secret consisted in an 
 imagination fertile in expedients which would never have oc- 
 curred to others; clearness and precision in forming his plans, 
 a mode of directing with certainty the separate moving col- 
 umns which were to execute them, by arranging so that each 
 division should arrive on the destined position at the exact 
 time when their service was necessary. 
 
 Great sacrifices were necessary to enable the French 
 troops to move with that degree of celerity which Buona- 
 parte's combinations required. He made no allowance for 
 impediments or unexpected obstacles; the time which he had 
 calculated for execution of manoeuvres prescribed, was on no 
 account to be exceeded — every sacrifice was to be made of 
 baggage, stragglers, and even artillery, rather than the col- 
 umn should arrive too late at the point of its destination. — 
 Hence, all that had hitherto been considered as essential not 
 only to the health, but to the very existence of an army, was 
 in a great measure dispensed with in the French service; and, 
 for the first time, troops were seen to take the field without 
 
 tents, without camp-equipage, without magazines of provis- 
 
 4# 
 
82 CAMPAIGNS OF NABlDLEON. [Chap v 
 
 ions and without military hospitals; — the soldiers eating as 
 they could, sleeping where they could, and dying where they 
 could; but still advancing, still combating and still victorious. 
 
 He arrived at the head quarters of the army early in the 
 spring, and only waited for the disappearance of the ice to 
 commence operations. The army had endured great hard- 
 ships and privations, were destitute of shoes, clothing and al- 
 most every thing which their comfort required. To silence 
 their complaints, and reconcile them to their situation, as well 
 as to endear himself to the soldiers, Buonaparte lived familiar- 
 ly with them, participated in their hardships and privations, 
 conciliated their esteem, and redressed their grievances. He 
 attempted to revive their spirits, arouse their courage and 
 raise their despondent hopes; "my brave fellows," said he, 
 " although you suffer great privations, you have no reason to 
 be dissatisfied; every thing yields to power; if we are vic- 
 torious, the provisions and the supplies of the enemy become 
 ours; but if we are vanquished we have already too much to 
 lose." 
 
 The allies were greatly superior in numbers as well as in 
 supplies, and they occupied all the heights and passes of the 
 Alps. Hostilities were commenced on the 9th of April, by 
 Beaulieu, the Austrian general, who with 10,000 men made a 
 spirited attack upon the French post at Voltri; the troops 
 stationed here retreated in good order to Savona. On the 
 following morning the Austrians renewed the attack, with 
 15,000 men, and having drove in all the out posts of the 
 French, appeared before the redoubt of Montenotte, the last 
 of their entrenchments. This redoubt was defended by 1500 
 men, commanded by Rampon, who made his soldiers, during 
 the heat of the attack, take an oath to defend it, or perish in 
 the entrenchments. The repeated charges of the Austrians 
 were unavailing; their advancement was checked, and they 
 were kept the whole night at the distance of pistol-shot. — 
 During the night, the right of the French army, under the 
 command of General Laharpe, took a position behind the re- 
 doubt; and Buonaparte, followed by Buthin and Massena, 
 brought up the troops of the centre and left, in the rear and 
 flank of the Imperialists. At day-break the following morn- 
 ing the action was commenced with great vigor, and with va- 
 rious success; the contest continued for some time, when 
 Massena appearing, commenced a furious attack upon the 
 rear and flank of the enemy, filled them with terror and con- 
 fusion, and decided the fate of the day. The fruit of this, 
 
Chap, v.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 83 
 
 the first victory obtained by Buonaparte in Italy, was 3,500 
 prisoners, of whom sixty were officers, several standards, 
 and 1500 killed. 
 
 Buonaparte, following up the advantage he had acquired, 
 removed his head quarters to Carcara the following day, and 
 pushed on Laharpe to Sozello, and from thence by rapid and 
 concealed marches to Cairo; while Massena was ordered to 
 gain the heights of Dego, and generals Manaud and Joubert 
 to occupy, one the heights Biestro, and the other the position 
 of St. Marguerite, by which movements the French army 
 was placed on the other side of the Alps. 
 
 Early on the next morning, the 13th of April, Augereau 
 attacked and forced the defiles of the Mellisimo, while Me- 
 naud and Joubert drove the enemy from all the neighboring 
 heights. The Austrian general Provera, with 1500 men, en- 
 trenched himself in the ruins of an old castle, on the summit 
 of the mountain of Cossaria, a very strong position. Buona- 
 parte, vexed at being checked in his march by a handful of 
 men, gave orders for him to be summoned to surrender. — 
 Provera not readily complying, and requesting to speak with 
 the commander in chief, Augereau formed his men in four 
 columns and advanced against him. Joubert, who led one of 
 the columns, being wounded after entering the enemy's en- 
 trenchment, and generals Banel and Quenin, who led two 
 others, being killed, the attempt did not succeed. At dawn 
 of day on the 14th, the hostile armies faced each other. — 
 Whilst Augereau confined general Provera to his position, 
 several regiments of the enemy attempted to penetrate the 
 centre of the French army, but were vigorously repulsed by 
 general Menaud. Massena, in the meantime, was extending 
 his line, strengthened by entrenchments and batteries; before 
 one o'clock, P. M. it reached beyond the enemy's left, which 
 occupied the village of Dego. A vigorous attack was made 
 upon the enemy by the division of general Laharpe, formed 
 in three columns; one headed by General Causse crossed the 
 Bormida with the water up to their middle, exposed to the 
 enemy's fire, and attacked the right of their left wing; the 
 second column passed the same stream, and fell upon the ene- 
 my, whilst the third turned a ravine to cut off their retreat. — 
 Being surrounded on all sides, the Austrians were exposed to 
 entire destruction; so rapid and furious was the attack of the 
 French columns, spreading death and terror around them, 
 that they had not even time to capitulate. At the same time 
 General Provera and his men, who had taken refuge in the 
 
 * 
 
84 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. v. 
 
 mountain's top, from an enemy, the vigor and activity of 
 whose operations were equally a matter of surprise and ter- 
 ror, surrendered as prisoners of war. This victory was not 
 more rapid in its achievement than decisive and complete in 
 its results. From seven to nine thousand prisoners were ta- 
 ken, and from 2000 to 2,500 of the enemy killed. 
 
 Before dawn of light, the succeeding day, Beaulieu with 
 7000 men, with great spirit and bravery attacked and carried 
 the village of Dego. A bold and vigorous attempt was made 
 to recover it by Massena, but he was repulsed in three suc- 
 cessive attacks; and General Causse, who led on the 99th 
 demi-brigade, as he was on the point of charging the enemy 
 with the bayonet, fell mortally wounded. Buonaparte coming 
 near him whilst in this situation, collecting what strength re- 
 mained, he asked if Dego was retaken. " The forts are ours," 
 said the commander in chief. — " Then" replied Causse, " Vive 
 la Republique! I die contented." The victorious French 
 soon possessed themselves of Dego, routed and pursued the 
 enemy, who left 600 dead, and 1400 prisoners. — To complete 
 the advantages of the French, Augereau dislodged the ene- 
 my from the redoubts of Montezemo, that opened a communi- 
 cation with the valley of the Tanaro, which General Serrur- 
 ier's division had already occupied. 
 
 On the 26th of April, Buonaparte published the following 
 address to the victorious army of Italy, dated head-quarters 
 at Cherasco. 
 
 " Soldiers! In the course of 14 days you have acquired 
 six victories, taken 21 stand of colors, 50 pieces of cannon, 
 several strong fortresses and conquered the richest portion of 
 Piedmont: you have taken 1,500 prisoners, and killed and 
 wounded more than 10,000 men: you have hitherto, however, 
 fought only for sterile rocks, rendered famous by your cour- 
 age, but useless to your country, and by your services, you 
 have emulated the conquering army of Holland and the Rhine. 
 Destitute of everything, you have supplied everything; with- 
 out cannon you have gained battles; without bridges you have 
 crossed rivers; without shoes you have performed forced march- 
 es; without brandy, and often without bread, you have spent the 
 night in arms. Republican phalanxes! the soldiers of liber- 
 ty are alone capable of suffering what you have experienced, 
 and your grateful country will owe to you a part of its pros- 
 perity. If the recovery of Toulon presaged the immortal 
 campaign of 1793, your present victories augur a campaign 
 still more glorious. The two armies that, but lately attacked 
 
Chap, v.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 85 
 
 you with audacity, now fly in terror before you; and the base 
 men, who ridiculed your misery, and inwardly rejoiced at the 
 triumph of the foe, are abashed and tremble." 
 
 The success of the French and the terror of the republican 
 arms, alarmed all Italy. The senate of Venice ordered Louis 
 XVIII to leave its territories; the grand duke of Tuscany 
 supplicated for favor; the king of Naples sent a minister to 
 Genoa to negociate for peace, and all the sea-ports of the 
 peninsula were shut against the English. 
 
 To secure the route to Milan, it was necessary to drive the 
 Austrians from the banks of the Adda, behind which they had 
 retired, and having collected an immense quantity of Artillery 
 at a bridge erected across this stream at the town of Lodi, 
 waited for the arrival of the French, feeling confidant of de- 
 fending the pass, and arresting their progress. Buonaparte, 
 determined that no obstacle should oppose his victorious ca- 
 reer, resolved to pass the bridge. Exposed to a shower of 
 grape shot from the enemy's batteries, he succeeded in plant- 
 ing two pieces of cannon at the head of the bridge, on the 
 side of the city; to prevent the enemy from destroying it, and 
 the troops coming up, a column was immediately formed, to 
 carry the pass. The French forming a battery of all their artil- 
 lery, a tremendous cannonade was kept up for several hours, 
 which filled the air with smoke and flame, and presented a 
 scene terribly grand and sublime. The effect of this, not be- 
 ing decisive, the troops were formed in close column, with the 
 second battalion of Carabineers at their head, followed by all 
 the grenadier battalion, when at a charge-step, amidst ten 
 thousand voices, of " Vive la Republique!" and with an enthu- 
 siasm which nothing but the highest animation of liberty could 
 inspire, they approached the bridge, the very supulchre of 
 death, and a burning furnace of destruction; the whole Aus- 
 trian army with 30 pieces of heavy cannon being posted on 
 the opposite side, and pouring upon it the most tremendous 
 fire. The French advanced, and were swept away like a forest 
 before a desolating tornado, and retreated; they were rallied, 
 but the slaughter was dreadful, and they retreated the second 
 time; when at the order of Buonaparte, Massena, Berthier, 
 Cervoni, Dallemagne and Lasnes, placed themselves at the 
 head of the column, and exclaiming " follow your generals, 
 my brave fellows," rushed forward, over the dead bodies of 
 the slain which covered the bridge, enveloped in smoke and 
 flame and exposed to the tremendous fire of the enemy's bat- 
 teries, all directed to this pass — which to many a poor fellow 
 
86 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. v. 
 
 became the isthmus connecting the two worlds, and time with 
 eternity. The column reached the opposite side and immedi- 
 ately charged the enemy's batteries; and at the same time, 
 generals Augereau, Rasca and Bayrand with their divisions 
 having crossed the Adda at a ford below Lodi, attacked the 
 Austrians suddenly in the rear. The contest was almost in- 
 stantly decided; the whole line of Austrian artillery was car- 
 ried, their order of battle broken, their troops routed, dispers- 
 ed, and the republican forces spreading terror and death in 
 every direction. 
 
 The fruits of this splendid victory were twenty pieces of 
 cannon, and between two and three thousand killed, wounded 
 and prisoners. The wreck of the Imperial army, and their 
 general, the unfortunate Beaulieu, abandoning Pizzighitone, 
 Cremona and Milan took refuge under the cannon of Man- 
 tua. 
 
 In his dispatches to the Directory after detailing the par- 
 ticulars of this memorable action, Buonaparte observes; " that 
 although since the commencement of the campaign the re- 
 publican troops had been engaged in many warm contests, 
 none approached to the terrible passage of the bridge of 
 Lodi." The French, following up their advantages, pursued 
 the Austrians with great celerity; they advanced to Piz- 
 zighitone which immediately surrendered; and from thence 
 pushed on to Cremona, which submitted to the same fate; and 
 the van guard having taken the route to Milan entered this 
 city on the 15th, having on their march received the submis- 
 sion of Pavia, where they found most of the magazines of the 
 Austrian army. 
 
 Such a rapid succession of victories was truly astonishing; 
 the whole of Lombardy was conquered; the tri-colored flag 
 waved in triumph from the extremity of the lake of Como, 
 and the frontiers of the country of the Grisons, to the gates 
 of Parma. 
 
 The Austrians having evacuated Milan, when the French 
 prepared to enter it, a deputation of the inhabitants laid the 
 keys of its gates at their feet. Overwhelmed with sorrow 
 and mortification, the archduke fled from his capital, and in 
 the streets and squares passed through crowds of people who 
 shewed neither joy or grief. A few days after, the people 
 collected in vast multitudes to witness the entry of the French, 
 whom they hailed as their deliverers, most of them put on the 
 national cockade. The Imperial arms was thrown down from 
 the public buildings, and at the ducal palaces, the following 
 
Chap, vi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 87 
 
 ludicrous and sarcastic advertisement was posted up; "A 
 house to let; inquire for the keys at citizen Salicatti's, the 
 French commissioner." 
 
 On the 14th of May, Massena entered the city with his 
 troops, and was welcomed by a numerous deputation of the 
 citizens, headed by the Archbishop. The same day, with 
 great ceremony, and amidst general rejoicing, the tree of lib- 
 erty was planted in the grand square. The entry of the " de- 
 liverer of Italy," was eminently brilliant; the splendid car- 
 riages of the nobility and aristocracy of the capital, went out 
 to meet and to salute the republican hero; and returned in 
 an immense cavalcade, amidst the shouts and acclamations of 
 an innumerable multitude, and accompanied by several bands 
 of musicians, playing patriotic marches; the procession stop- 
 ped at the palace of the archduke, where Buonaparte was to 
 lodge. The ceremonies of the day were concluded by a 
 splendid ball, at which the ladies vied with each other in ex- 
 pressions of patriotism and republican feeling, by wearing the 
 French national colors in every part of their dress. The 
 next day the u ready cash" of the archduke, excepting the 
 " pocket money" which he had taken with him, was emptied 
 into the French national purse, followed the succeeding day 
 by a splendid national fete, closed in the evening by a general 
 illumination. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Armistice with the Pope. Arch-duke Charles enters Italy. Beaulieu suc- 
 ceeded by Wurmser. Battle of Areola. Victory of Rivoli. The Pope 
 breaks the Treaty. Buonaparte orders Gen. Victor to invade the Pa- 
 pal Territories. Pope sues for Peace. Victories of Buonaparte over the 
 Austrians. Peace concluded. 
 
 The success of the French, and the terror of the arms of 
 the Republic, filled all the Italian States with consternation 
 and alarm. The duke of Modena purchased a truce, for it 
 could not be called a peace, at the enormous price of 10,000- 
 000 livres; 7,500,000 to be paid to the Republic, and 2,500- 
 000 in provisions and military stores for the army; he was al- 
 
88 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.vi. 
 
 se to deliver twenty paintings from his gallery, to be selected 
 by persons designated by the French. 
 
 Buonaparte having left Milan to go to Lodi, an attempt was 
 made by the nobles and the partizans of Austria, to arouse 
 the inhabitants to arms, to drive out their conquerors; the 
 tocsin was sounded, a report circulated that the Austrmns 
 were reinforced by 60,000 men, marching to Milan; that the 
 army of Conde had arrived on the confines of the Milanese; 
 and that the British had taken Nice. The tree of liberty was 
 cut down, hewn into pieces, and the tri-colored cockade tram- 
 pled under foot. 
 
 Buonaparte, informed of these proceedings, with 500 horse 
 and a battalion of grenadiers, hastened back to Milan, order- 
 ed the leaders who were found in arms to be seized and shot, 
 a number of distinguished persons to be arrested and held as 
 hostages; imposed a fine for the discharge of domestics who 
 had been induced to take up arms, and signified to the Arch- 
 bishop and the nobility that he should hold them responsible 
 for the public tranquility. He issued a proclamation, charg- 
 ing the disturbances to the agents of Austria and the priests; 
 declared those villages that had not complied with his order 
 of the 25th in a state of rebellion, and directed his generals 
 to march into them, with troops sufficient to suppress the in- 
 surgents, to set them on fire, and to shoot upon the spot all 
 who might be found with arms in their hands. All priests and 
 nobles in the rebellious communes were to be arrested and 
 sent to France as hostages; all villages where the tocsin was 
 sounded were to be instantly burnt, and those where a single 
 Frenchman was assassinated were to pay a triple contribution 
 of the sum annually paid to the government, until they should 
 deliver up the assassin. The execution of thes$ orders was 
 entrusted to the generals. The place where arms might be 
 found concealed, was subjected to a heavy fine, and every 
 house in which muskets were discovered, was to be burnt un- 
 less the proprietor would disclose to whom they belonged. 
 The severity of these measures restored tranquility, and 
 
 spread a general panic. 
 
 Buonaparte removed his head-quarters to Verona, leaving 
 a garrison. The enemy having fled into the Tyrol, he pro- 
 ceeded to invest Mantua, which required a formal siege, 
 which the French possessed little means of undertaking. In- 
 tending to penetrate into the Tyrolese, the general addressed 
 a proclamation to the warlike people of these lofty mountains, 
 telling them that he had occasion to pass through their tern- 
 
Chap, vi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 89 
 
 tory to compel the court of Austria to a peace, necessary to 
 all Europe; and that their persons, property, laws and relig- 
 ion should be respected, unless they suffered themselves by 
 the agents of Austria to be led into acts of hostility which 
 would call down upon their heads the terrible vengeance of 
 the French army. 
 
 Buonaparte proceeded from Torfona, to Modena, and from 
 thence to Bologna, having received the submission of Urbino, 
 the garrison of 300 men surrendering as 1 prisoners of war; and 
 fifty pieces of cannon, with a quantity of arms and provisions, 
 fell into the hands of the victors. At Bologna, the cardinal 
 legate with all the officers of the etat-major were made pris- 
 oners, and four standards, with 114 pieces of heavv cannon, 
 taken. 
 
 A division of the French army arrived at Leghorn just as 
 an English frigate was going out of the harbor, which was 
 fired at, birt without effect; and only a few hours before, for- 
 ty English vessels, fully laden, left Leghorn. 
 
 At Florence, while Buonaparte was at dinner with the 
 grand duke, a courier arrived with intelligence of the taking 
 of the castle of Milan, which held out when the town surren- 
 dered. 2,800 prisoners, 150 pieces of cannon, large quantities 
 of powder and military stores, were the fruits of the reduction 
 of the castle. This intelligence, which was announced- at the 
 close of the entertainment, was unwelcome tidings to the 
 grand duke; but if it was little calculated to increase the sat- 
 isfaction which he felt in entertaining his distinguished guest, 
 it confirmed the opinion that there was nothing left for him 
 but submission. 
 
 On the 23d of June, an armistice was concluded with the 
 Pope, which was to be followed by a definitive treaty of peace, 
 to be negociated at Paris, the terms of which were sufficient- 
 ly humiliating to the successor of St. Peter, and the head of 
 the church, once the most powerful sovereign in Europe.— 
 The pontiff, who once trod on the necks of kings, made and 
 unmade sovereigns, disposed of States and kingdoms, and as 
 the great high-priest and vicegerent of the Almighty on earth, 
 established an authority as " lord paramount,'' and reigned 
 over the heads of other sovereigns, was constrained to drink 
 to the very dregs of the cup of humiliation. If the draught 
 was bitter, it was one which his predecessors had liberally 
 dealt out to others. 
 
 He was compelled to open his ports to French vessels, and 
 exclude the flags of all nations at war with that Republic; 
 
90 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vi. 
 
 to Dermit the French army to continue in possession of the 
 legations of Bologna and Ferrara, to surrender the citadel 
 of Ancona; to give to the French republic 100 paintings, 
 busts, vases or statues, to be selected by commissioners to be 
 sent to Rome for that purpose, among which were to be in- 
 cluded a bust in bronze of Junius Brutus, and one of marble 
 of JVlarcus Brutus; also 500 manuscripts, to be selected in the 
 same way; and to sweeten the whole, his holiness was to pay 
 to the Republic 21,000,000 of French livres, most of which 
 was to be in specie or gold and silver ingots. 
 
 The numerous victories and the raj^d progress of the 
 French armies in the North, and the destruction of two ar- 
 mies in Italy, changed the confidence of the allies into fear 
 and alarm: the Court of Vienna was panic struck; the empire 
 was dismembered, and the very throne of Germany seemed 
 tottering to its base. The duke of Wirtemberg and the mar- 
 quis of Baden, entered into provisional treaties of peace with 
 general Moreau, that were ratified at Paris, in which they ce- 
 ded to the republic all their possessions on the left bank of 
 the Rhine, and paid immense contributions. The Elector of 
 Bavaria followed the example. 
 
 The pacification of the north, and the retreat of the armies, 
 brought the Arch-duke Charles into Italy, where Marshal 
 Wurmser had previously gone to succeed Beaulieu in the 
 command; and left the allies at liberty to direct all their ex- 
 ertions against the young champion of the republic, and the 
 conqueror of Italy. Buonaparte was less like Charles the 
 twelfth of Sweden, a mere " thunderbolt of war," than were 
 many of his private soldiers. He was not less a Statesman 
 than a General; the judicious arrangements which he made 
 to secure the states which he had conquered, and maintain 
 the influence of the Republic, afforded almost equal evidence 
 of his wonderful talents, as the many brilliant victories by 
 which they had been acquired. His policy as a Statesman 
 was only equalled by his wonderful talents and energy as a 
 General. 
 
 The retreat of Moreau's army from Germany, left Buona- 
 parte to contend alone with the united forces of the allies; but 
 if he had nothing to expect from a co-operation, he had noth- 
 ing to fear from a rival. It is not to be supposed therefore, 
 that he was displeased at a state of things, which left him at 
 the head of all the armies of the Republic that were engaged 
 in the tremendous struggle with its enemies. The eyes of 
 the Republic and of all Europe were fixed upon him; his situ- 
 
Chap, vi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 91 
 
 a^on was one of awful responsibility, but it both flattered and 
 simulated his ambition. It was probably at this period, that 
 he first a dreamt of kingdoms, crowns, and regal state. " 
 
 Buonaparte did not wait to receive the enemy, but marched 
 forth to meet him; he attacked the Austrians who had crossed 
 the Brenta, where, after a most obstinate and bloody action, 
 the enemy was obliged to repass the river, and leave the 
 French in possession of the field of battle. 
 
 At the village of Lonado, Buonaparte escaped very narrow- 
 ly from falling into the hands of the Austrians, and was saved 
 only by that wonderful presence of mind of which he was 
 master. In reconnoitering an advanced post, he found him- 
 self with only 1200 men, surrounded by a section of the Aus- 
 trian army consisting of 4000 men. In this critical and emi-. 
 nently perilous situation, he succeeded in impressing the Aus- 
 trian commander with the belief that his whole force was at 
 hand, which induced him to surrender himself, with his de- 
 tachment. 
 
 Anxious to bring on a general engagement, Buonaparte 
 had recourse to a stratagem, and he feigned to be desirous to 
 avoid a battle and to shun the enemy. Wurmser, the com- 
 mander of the Imperial forces, imputing his conduct to a con- 
 sciousness of his great numerical inferiority, exerted himself 
 to bring on an engagement; and on the 5th of August, confi- 
 dent of success, and deceived by the conduct of Buonaparte, 
 he advanced to engage the French army. The latter being 
 formed in two divisions, one of which received the enemy in 
 front, while the other, having, by a rapid and masterly move- 
 ment during the night, doubled the enemy's right wing, at- 
 tacked them furiously in the rear. Finding himself by this 
 unexpected and dextrous manoeuvre surrounded and hemmed 
 in, Wurmser made a most gallant and obstinate effort; but it 
 was in vain; nothing could withstand the impetuosity and val- 
 or of the French. The route of the Imperialists was com- 
 plete; they lost six thousand killed, twelve thousand prisoners, 
 seventy pieces of cannon and all the carriages belonging to 
 their army. 
 
 This battle was followed by an engagement on the 12th of 
 November, in which the French, consisting of the divisions 
 of Massena and Augereau, were completely succes&ful; but 
 this was but a trifling affair compared with the desperate and 
 protracted contest at the village of Areola, which followed. — 
 This place afforded a strong position, being surrounded by 
 marshes and canals; and field marshal Alvinzi having taken 
 
92 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vi. 
 
 up his head quarters at Coldero, dispatched several regiments 
 to occupy this village. The column of General Augereau, 
 having drove in the outposts of the enemy, was stopped in its 
 advance by the Imperial troops which occupied the village of 
 Areola. The French made several efforts to gain possession 
 of a small bridge upon which the enemy kept up a terrible 
 fire. From the importance of carrying the bridge, the troops 
 having been several times repulsed in the attempt, several of 
 the generals placed themselves at the head of the column, and 
 made a desperate effort to pass it. By this rash heroism, sev- 
 eral of the generals having been wounded and nothing effect- 
 ed, Augereau, seizing a standard, advanced to the extremity 
 of the bridge, where he remained several minutes without 
 producing any effect. Buonaparte perceiving the difficulty, 
 and that the whole operation would miscarry unless the bridge 
 was passed, hastening to the spot, asked the soldiers " if they 
 were the conquerors of Lodi." His presence enkindled the 
 liveliest enthusiasm amongst the troops, which induced him 
 to risk the passage; leaping from his horse, and seizing a 
 standard, he rushed forward at the head of the grenadiers to- 
 wards the bridge, exclaiming, lc follow your general." The 
 column instantly advanced, and had reached within thirty pa- 
 ces of the bridge, when such was the destructive fire of the 
 Austrians, that it recoiled at the very instant the enemy were 
 on the point of flying. Buonaparte, being thrown from his 
 horse into the marsh, mounted again, exposed to a dreadful 
 fire, succeeded in rallying the column. Generals Lasnes and 
 Yignole were wounded, and Muiron, the aid of Buonaparte, 
 was killed in this daring affair. On the arrival of General 
 Guieux, who had been dispatched by Buonaparte with a body 
 of 2000 men to cross the Adige, and to bear down and turn 
 the village of Areola, it surrendered, but was soon evacuated 
 by the French. The next day, before light, the Austrians at- 
 tacked the French in every direction. The columns of Mas- 
 sena and Augereau, after a sharp contest repulsed the enemy, 
 and the former pursued thern to the gates of Coldero, taking 
 1500 prisoners, six pieces of cannon and four standards; but 
 the latter failed of recovering the village of Areola, although 
 he made several desperate attempts. At night, Buonaparte, 
 at the head of a column carrying fascines, approached the ca- 
 nal on the side of the Adige, but such was the rapidity of the 
 current, that he found it impracticable to pass it. He then 
 ordered bridges to be thrown over the canal and marshes, and 
 planned an attack for the following day. The action was re- 
 
Chap, vi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 93 
 
 newed at an early hour, by a vigorous attack of the Austrians 
 upon the centre of the French, which was obliged to fall back. 
 Buonaparte, ready to take advantage even of his disasters, 
 perceiving this, ordered General Gardanne with the 32d to 
 form an ambush, and as the Imperialists pressed forward, 
 driving back the centre, to sally and fall furiously upon their 
 flank. The manoeuvre succeeded to admiration. He also 
 adopted another. The left of the Austrians being supported 
 by the marshes, was able to keep in check the French right. 
 Buonaparte ordered the commandant of the guides with 25 
 select men, to advance along the Adige, and turn all the 
 marshes which supported the enemy's left, and then at full 
 gallop with their trumpets sounding, fall furiously upon their 
 back. This stratagem was equally successful; the Austrian 
 infantry gave way, and were soon completely routed. At this 
 juncture Massena advanced to the village of Areola, which 
 he carried, and thence pursued the enemy a considerable dis- 
 tance. The results of this victory, were 5000 prisoners, 4000 
 killed and as many wounded; four stands of colors, 18 pieces 
 of cannon and a great number of loaded waggons, pontoons, 
 and scaling ladders. The loss of the French was considera- 
 ble, comprising several distinguished officers, killed and wound- 
 ed; of the latter were generals Robert and Gardanne, and of 
 the former Adjutant General Vaudelin, and Elliot and Muiron, 
 both aids of Bunaparte. 
 
 This victory was a most important one to the French; and 
 was not obtained without the most vigorous and persevering 
 efforts, the most skilful and active manceuvering and the most 
 obstinate and desperate fighting. The Austrians, being re- 
 lieved from the war in the north, had concentrated all tneir 
 disposable forces in Italy; they had received large reinforce- 
 ments from the interior of the Austrian states. But the rein- 
 forcements sent from France had not joined the army of 
 Buonaparte, which was reduced and weakened by its numer- 
 ous battles and victories. Its situation was in an eminent de- 
 gree critical; and nothing but the wonderful genius of its 
 leader, and the bravery and constancy of his brethren, of his 
 companions in arms, and the ardour and courage of his sol- 
 diers, could have overcame so many obstacles and triumphed 
 over an enemy possessing such superior advantages. 
 
 In his letter to Carnot, one of the Directors, Buonaparte 
 says, " Never was a field of battle so valorously disputed as 
 that of Areola; scarcely have I any generals left, their cour- 
 age and devotion to their country were without example."-— 
 
94 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.vi. 
 
 The general of brigade, Lasnes, appeared in the field of bat- 
 tle, although the wound he had received at Governole was not 
 yet cured; he was twice wounded en the first day of the en- 
 gagement, and laid on a bed in great agony, when, hearing 
 that Buonaparte, in person, was at the head of the column, 
 he threw himself out of bed, mounted his horse, and hasten- 
 ed to find the general.. As he could not walk, he was obliged 
 to remain on horseback; but at the head of the bridge of 
 Areola, he received a blow that extended him senseless. " I 
 assure you," concludes the general, "that it required every 
 effort to vanquish: the enemy, headed by their generals, were 
 numerous and obstinate; and several of the latter were 
 killed." 
 
 After the action, the Austrian general Alvinzi having re- 
 treated with his army into the mountains, it was the principal 
 object of Buonaparte to keep him in check, and to cut off all 
 communication between him and Wurmser, who with a strong 
 garrison still occupied Mantua. 
 
 The divisions of Massena and Vaubois came up with the 
 enemy on the heights of Campara, and surrounding a corps 
 of the rear guard took 1200 prisoners, and a body of three 
 or four hundred were drowned in attempting to cross the 
 Adige. 
 
 Buonaparte having set out for Mantua, to prosecute the 
 blockade of that fortress, arrived at Verona on the morning 
 of the 12th of January, 1797, at the very moment the Aus- 
 trians attacked the advanced guard of Massena's division at 
 St. Michael. After an obstinate contest the Austrians were 
 repulsed with the loss of 600 prisoners. At the same time 
 they made an attack upon the head of the French line, and 
 made themselves masters of a redoubt, which however, was 
 retaken by the French with 300 prisoners. After various 
 movements, the great battle at Rivoli on the 14th and 15th of 
 January ensued. The action was contested with the greatest 
 obstinacy, and the hostile parties displayed great skill in their 
 maneuvering and operations. During the heat of the en- 
 gagement, an Austrian column penetrating behind Rivoli, in 
 the rear of the French, succeeded in turning the French line, 
 and cutting off all communication with Verona and Peschie- 
 ra; when confident of success they exclaimed, " we have 
 them," and proceeding rapidly by the valley of the Adige ad- 
 vanced and attacked with great impetuosity the intrenchmei ts 
 of Rivoli. But their confidence and ardor did not avail them 
 against the steady bravery of the French; they were repuls. 
 
Chap, vi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 95 
 
 ed in three successive attacks. In the meantime, Buonaparte 
 having planted several pieces of artillery, commenced a de- 
 structive fire on the right of the Austrian line; when generals 
 Brune and Monnier advancing in three columns, made a vig- 
 orous attack upon the right wing of the Austrian line, which 
 occupied an advantageous height in the rear of the French; 
 in an instant the whole Austrian column of 4000 men were 
 made prisoners. This decided the action. 
 
 Buonaparte immediately hastened to St. Anthony to cut off 
 the column of the Austrian general Provera. So prompt and 
 judicious were his arrangements, that the Austrians finding 
 themselves surrounded on all sides, immediately surrendered. 
 Six thousand infantry, seven hundred cavalry, an entire* 
 corps of volunteers from Vienna, with 22 pieces of cannon and 
 all the waggons and baggage of the enemy fell into the hands 
 of the victors. 
 
 The rapidity of the movements and victories of the French 
 were astonishing. In the space of four days only, they had 
 fought two pitched battles, six inferior actions, and taken near- 
 ly 25000 prisoners, comprising one lieutenant-general, two 
 brigadier-generals, and twelve or fifteen colonels; sixty pieces 
 of cannon, 20 standards, and an immense quantity of baggage. 
 The spoils of a vanquished enemy were among the trophies 
 of their victories. The strength of Alvinzi's army was great- 
 ly weakened; in addition to the prisoners, he sustained a loss 
 of about 6000 killed and wounded. The prisoners were con- 
 ducted to Grenoble. 
 
 In his dispatches to government, Buonaparte says: ce all 
 the troops performed wonders; the Roman legions are re- 
 ported to have marched twenty-four miles a day, our brigades, 
 though fighting at intervals, marched thirty." 
 
 Buonaparte, having destroyed since the commencement of 
 the campaign of 1796, three immense armies, and reduced 
 the fortress of Mantua, and having driven the Imperialists out 
 of Italy, turned his attention to the court of Rome. Whilst 
 the secular princes who had concluded treaties with the 
 French, adhered to them in good faith, and paid the contribu- 
 tions stipulated, the Sovereign Pontiff was guilty of the most 
 unwise violations of his engagements. Surrounded by priests 
 who were his only counsellors, the Pope had recourse to his 
 old expedients of artifice and pious frauds; and great efforts 
 were made to inflame the minds of the people against the 
 French, calling them republicans, Jacobins, infidels and very 
 devils incarnate. The priests pretended, that heaven had in- 
 
96 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, vi 
 
 terfered, and it was positively asserted, that various miracles 
 had been performed in different churches, in vindication of 
 the holy catholic faith, of papal supremacy, and shewing the 
 displeasure of heaven at the conduct of the French. Instead 
 of soldiers, the streets were filled with saints and images, who 
 by their prayers and imprecations, were to arrest the progress 
 of the French, and call down the vengeance of heaven upon 
 their devoted heads. The warrior, who was a match for Han- 
 nibal, for the conqueror of that general, or for Caesar, was to 
 be combatted and overcome by friars; he who had scattered 
 the Austrian eagles, was to yield to a Romish owl. 
 
 Buonaparte perceiving such was the infatuation and folly 
 of the Court of Rome, that all his efforts for peace would be 
 unavailing, took immediate steps to bring his holiness to his 
 senses. He issued a manifesto, charging him with a breach 
 of the provisional treaty of peace, and published a proclama- 
 tion, assuring the inhabitants that their religion, property and 
 persons, should be sacredly protected if they abstained from 
 all acts of hostility, which would draw down upon their heads 
 the terrible vengeance of the French arms. He ordered 
 General Victor to invade the papal territories, who scattered 
 the army of the Pope " like chaff before the wind," and 
 spread a general panic through the ecclesiastical states; per- 
 sons of property escaped to Naples, and his holiness finding 
 that St. Peter afforded him no assitance in this emergency, 
 and having acquired sufficient laurels in the " field of death," 
 dispatched plenipotentiaries to Buonaparte, to supplicate for 
 peace. 
 
 Peace was obtained; but upon conditions sufficiently humili- 
 ating; in addition to complying with the provisional treaty, 
 previously entered into, and infracted by the Pope, he was 
 obliged to cede a part of his territories, and pay a sum in mo- 
 ney amounting to about thirty millions of French livres, as an 
 atonement for the last rupture. 
 
 Thus in one campaign the rising champion of the French 
 Republic overcame and nearly annihilated four armies; con- 
 sisting of well disciplined and veteran troops more numerous 
 than his own, and commanded by experienced and skilful gen- 
 erals; extended the dominion of France from the Gulf of 
 Genoa to the Adriatic sea, from the Alps to the Tiber, and its 
 influence and the terror of its arms throughout all Italy. 
 
 This was one of the most difficult and important of Buona- 
 parte's campaigns; and perhaps in no other did he display a 
 more wonderful and extraordinary combination of talents, giv- 
 
€hap. vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 97 
 
 ing him an indisputable title to the character of the best sol- 
 dier, the ablest commander, and the most successful conquer- 
 or of the age. It commenced with every advantage on the 
 side of the allies, and ended with the defeat, dispersion and al- 
 most entire destruction of four armies. It found Buonaparte 
 in a very critical situation, being compelled, with an army re- 
 duced by the victories of the preceding campaign, to contend 
 with the united disposable force of the allies; but it left him 
 master of all Italy, and without a foe that dare to meet him in 
 the field. Considering the situation of his own army, the ob- 
 stacles which surrounded him, the immense number, power 
 and resources of the enemy; their bravery, discipline, and 
 the able and experienced commanders who led them, his exer- 
 tions and achievements must appear truly astonishing. If oth- 
 ers have done as much in a single campaign, it is certain that 
 no man ever accomplished more. 
 
 CHAP. TIL 
 
 Project of invading England. — Abandoned. Expedition to Egypt. Capture 
 of Alexandria. Skirmishes with the Mamelukes. Battle of the Pyra- 
 mids. Battle of Aboukir, and destruction of the French Fleet. Mas- 
 sacre of the Prisoners at Jaffa. Plague breaks out in the French army. 
 Napoleon's courage and humanity. Seige of St. Jean d^cre. 18,000 
 Turks ?ccupy Aboukir. Attacked and defeated by Buonaparte. This 
 victory terminates Napoleon v s career in Egypt. 
 
 All the rest of her enemies being now off her hands? 
 France had for some time meditated, or at least talked about, 
 the invasion of Great Britain. An immense military force 
 was collected on the coasts of Normandy and Brittany, and 
 at Toulon, called " the army of England," and Buonaparte 
 appointed to command it. Great preparations were made ap- 
 parently for invading England; but evidently with the princi- 
 pal design of alarming and distracting that government, and 
 agitating the people. 
 
 The waterworks of London were to be cut off by the con- 
 spirators, the city set on'fire, and the French republicans in- 
 vited in to take possession of the country. By such ground- 
 
 ■5 
 
98 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap vh 
 
 less and malicious rumors as these, the country was filled with 
 consternation and alarm, the habeas corpus act suspended, 
 royal associations formed, volunteers organized and discip- 
 lined, the hands of the ministers so strengthened, that the lib- 
 erty of the people was entirely dependant upon their will, and 
 every man in the kingdom was liable to be seized and impris- 
 oned during their pleasure without a trial, and even without 
 any charges being preferred against him. During these arbi- 
 trary proceedings many innocent men were arrested and im- 
 prisoned, and several tried for treason and acquitted. 
 
 If the project of invading England had ever been enter- 
 tained, it was abandoned, in consequence of the extraordina- 
 ry exertions which were made by the government and people 
 of that nation for its defence. 
 
 An enterprise more feasible, and at the same time calcula- 
 ted to strike a severe blow at the power and resources of 
 Great Britain, was resolved upon. This was to invade and 
 possess themselves of Egypt, the object of which was, as is 
 generally supposed, not so much to acquire the riches of the 
 Nile, as to extend their power to the Ganges, and open the 
 way to the conquest of the British East India possessions. — 
 Turkey and Hindostan were to have been menaced into an al- 
 liance with the French republic, and rendered subservient to, 
 its purposes. 
 
 The public observed with astonishment a detachment of no 
 less than one hundred men, who had cultivated the arts and 
 sciences, or to use the French phrase, ' savants,' selected for 
 the purpose of joining this mysterious expedition, of which 
 the object still remained a secret; while all classes of people 
 asked each other what new quarter of the world France had 
 determined to colonize, since she seemed preparing at once to 
 subdue it by her arms, cind to enrich it with the treasures of 
 her science and literature. This singular department of the 
 expedition, the first of the kind which ever accompanied an 
 invading army, was liberally supplied with books, philosophi- 
 cal instruments, and all means of prosecuting the several de- 
 partments of knowledge. 
 
 Buonaparte did not, however, trust to the superiority of 
 science to ensure the conquest of Egypt. He was fully pro- 
 vided with more effectual means. The land forces belonging 
 to the expedition were of the most formidable description. — 
 Twenty-five thousand men, chiefly veterans selected from his 
 own Italian army, had in their list of generals subordinate to 
 Buonaparte, the names of Kleber, Dessaix, Berthier, Regnier 
 
€hap. vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 99 
 
 Murat, Lasnes, Andreossi, Menou, JBelliard and others well 
 known in the Revolutionary wars. Four hundred transports 
 were assembled for the conveyance of the troops. Thirteen 
 ships of the line, and four frigates, commanded by admiral 
 Brueyes, an expeilenced and gallant officer, formed the es- 
 cort of the expedition; a finer and more formidable one than 
 which never sailed on so bold an adventure. 
 
 On the 19th of May 1798, this magnificent armament set 
 sail from Toulon, illuminated by a splendid sun-rise, one of 
 those which were afterwards popularly termed the suns of Na- 
 poleon. The line-of-battle ships extended for a league, and 
 the semi-circle formed by the convoy was at least six leagues 
 in extent. They were joined on the 8th of June, as they 
 swept along the Mediterranean, by a large fleet of transports, 
 having on board the division of General Dessaix. 
 
 The 10th of June brought the armament before Malta, once 
 the citadel of Christendom, and garrisoned by those intrepid 
 knights, who, half warriors and half priests, opposed the infi- 
 dels with the enthusiasm at once of religion and of chivalry. 
 But those by whom the Order was now maintained were dis- 
 united among themselves, lazy and debauched voluptuaries, 
 who consumed the revenues destined to fit out expeditions 
 against the Turks in cruises for pleasure, not war, and giving 
 balls and entertainments in the seaports of Italy. Buona- 
 parte treated these degenerate knights with a want of cere- 
 mony, which, however little it accorded with the extreme 
 strength of their island, and with the glorious defence which 
 it had formerly made against the infidels, was perfectly suited 
 to their present condition. Secure of a party among the 
 French knights, with whom he had been tampering, he land- 
 ed troops and took possession of these almost impregnable 
 fortresses with so little opposition, that CafFarelli said to Na- 
 poleon, as they passed through the most formidable defences, 
 "It is well, general, that there was some one within to open 
 the gates to us. We should have had more trouble in enter- 
 ing, if the place had been altogether empty." 
 
 A sufficient garrison was established in Malta, destined by 
 Buonaparte to be an intermediate station between France and 
 Egypt; and on the 19th, the daring general resumed his ex- 
 pedition. 
 
 The French fleet came in sight of Alexandria on the 29th 
 of June, and saw before them the city (#the Ptolomies and 
 of Cleopatra, with its double harbor, its Pharos and its ancient 
 and gigantic monuments of grandeur. Yet at this critical 
 
 
100 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, vil 
 
 moment, and while Buonaparte contemplated his meditated 
 conquest, a signal announced the appearance of a strange 
 sail, which was construed to be an English frigate, the pre- 
 cursor of the British fleet. " What!" said Napoleon, " I ask 
 but six hours— and Fortune, wilt thou abandon me?" The 
 fickle goddess was then and for many a succeeding year, true 
 to her votary. The vessel proved friendly. 
 
 The disembarkation of the French army took place about a 
 league and a half from Alexandria, called Marabout. It was 
 not accomplished without losing boats and men in the surf, 
 though such risks were encountered with great joy by the 
 troops, who had been so long confined on shipboard. Aa 
 soon as five or six thousand men were landed, Buonaparte 
 marched towards Alexandria, when the Turks, incensed at 
 this hostile invasion on the part of a nation with whom they 
 were at profound peace, shut the gates and manned the walls 
 against their reception. But the walls were ruinous and pre- 
 sented breaches in many places, and the chief weapons of re- 
 sistance were musketry and stones. The conquerors of Italy 
 forced their passage over such obstacles, but not easily or 
 with impunity. Two hundred French were killed. There 
 was severe military execution done upon the garrison, and 
 the town was abandoned to plunder for three hours. 
 
 Upon the 7th of July the army marched from Alexandria 
 against the Mamelukes. Their course was up the Nile, and 
 a small flotilla of gun-boats ascended the river to protect their 
 right flank, while the infantry traversed a desert of burning 
 sands, at a distance from the stream, and without a drop of 
 water to relieve their tormenting thirst. The army of Italy, 
 accustomed to the enjoyments of that delicious country, were 
 astonished at the desolation they saw around them. " Is this," 
 they said, " the country in which we are to receive our farms 
 of seven acres each ? The General might have allowed us to 
 take as much as we chose — no one would have abused the 
 privilege." Their officers, too, expressed horror and disgust; 
 and even generals of such celebrity as Murat and Lasnes 
 threw their hats on the sand, and trod on their cockades. It 
 required all Buonaparte's authority to maintain order, so 
 much were the French disgusted with the commencement of 
 the expedition. 
 
 To add to their embarrassment, the enemy began to appear 
 around them. Mamelukes and Arabs, concealed behind the 
 hillocks of sand, interrupted their march at every opportunity, 
 an4 wo to the soldier who straggled from the ranks, were it 
 
Chap, vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 101 
 
 but fifty yards. Some of these horsemen were sure to dash 
 at him, slay him on the spot, and make off before a musket 
 could be discharged at them. At length, however, the au- 
 dacity of these incursions was checked by a skirmish of some 
 little importance, near a place called Chehrheis, in which the 
 French asserted their military superiority. 
 
 An encounter also took place on the river, between the 
 French flotilla and a number of armed vessels belonging to 
 the Mamelukes. Victory first inclined to the latter, but at 
 length determined in favor of the French, who took, however, 
 only a single galliot. * 
 
 Meanwhile the French were obliged to march with the ut- 
 most precaution. The whole plain was now covered with 
 Mamelukes, mounted on the finest Arabian horses, and armed 
 with pistols, carabines and blunderbusses, of the best English 
 workmanship — their plumed turbans waving in the air, and 
 their rich dresses and arms glittering in the sun. Entertain- 
 ing a high contempt for the French force, as consisting al- 
 most entirely of infantry, this splendid barbaric chivalry 
 watched every opportunity for charging them, nor did a single 
 straggler escape the unrelenting edge of their sabres. Their 
 charge was almost as swift as the wind, and as their severe 
 bits enabled them to halt, or wheel their horses at full gallop, 
 ■heir retreat was as rapid as their advance. Even the prac- 
 tised veterans of Italy were at first embarrassed by this new 
 mode of fighting, and lost several men; especially when fa- 
 tigue caused any one to fall out of the ranks, in which ca&e 
 his fate became certain. But they were soon reconciled t\< 
 fighting the Mamelukes, when they discovered that each 01 
 these men carried about him his fortune, and that it not un- 
 commonly amounted to considerable sums in gold. 
 
 After seven days of such marches as we have described, they 
 arrived indeed within six leagues of Cairo, and beheld at a 
 distance the celebrated Pyramids, but learned at the same 
 time, that Murad Bey, with twenty-two of his brethren, at 
 the head of their Mamelukes, had formed an entrenched 
 camp at a place called Embabeh, with the purpose of cover- 
 ing Cairo, and giving battle to the French. On the 21st of 
 July, as the French continued to advance, they saw their ene- 
 my in the field, and in full force. A splendid line of cavalry, 
 under Murad and the other Beys, displayed the whole strength 
 of the Mamelukes. Their right rested on the imperfectly en- 
 trenched camp, in which lay twenty thousand infantry, defend- 
 ed by forty pieces of cannon. But the infantry were an un- 
 
102 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vii. 
 
 disciplined rabble; the guns wanting carriages, were mounted 
 on clumsy wooden frames; and the fortifications of the camp 
 were but commenced, and presented no formidable opposition. 
 Buonaparte made his dispositions. He extended his line to the 
 right in such a manner as to keep out of gun-shot of the en- 
 trenched camp, and have only to encounter the line of cavalry. 
 
 Murad Bey saw this movement, and fully aware of its con- 
 sequence, prepared to charge with his magnificent body of 
 horse, declaring he would cut the French up like gourds. — 
 Buonaparte, as he directed the infantry to form squares to re- 
 ceive them, called out to his men, " From yonder Pyramids 
 twenty centuries behold your actions." The Mamelukes ad- 
 vanced with the utmost speed, and corresponding fury, and 
 charged with horrible yells. They disordered one of (he 
 French squares of infantry, which would have been sabred in 
 an instant, but that the mass of this fiery militia was a little 
 behind the advanced guard. The French had a moment to 
 restore order, and used it. The combat then in some degree 
 resembled that, which nearly twenty years afterwards, took 
 place at Warterloo; the hostile cavalry furiously charging the 
 squares of infantry, and trying by the most undaunted efforts 
 of courage, to break in upon them at every practicable point, 
 while a tremendous fire of musketry, grape-shot and shells, 
 crossing in various directions, repaid their audacity. Noth- 
 ing in war was ever seen more desperate than the exertions of 
 the Mamelukes. Failing to force their horses through the 
 French squares, individuals were seen to wheel them round 
 and rein them back on the ranks, that they might disorder 
 them by kicking. As they became frantic with despair, they 
 hurled at the immovable phalanxes, which they could not 
 break, their pistols, poinards and carabines. Those who fell 
 wounded to the ground, dragged themselves on, to cut at the 
 legs of the French with their crooked sabres. But their ef- 
 forts were all in vain. 
 
 The Mamelukes, after the most courageous efforts to ac- 
 complish their purpose, were finally beaten off with great 
 slaughter; and as they could not form to act in squadron, their 
 retreat became a confused flight. The greater part attempted 
 to return to their camp, from that sort of instinct, as Napoleon 
 termed it, which leads fugitives to retire in the same direction 
 in which they had advanced. By taking this route they placed 
 themselves betwixt the French and the Nile; and the sustain- 
 ed and insupportable fire of the former soon obliged them to 
 plunge into the river, in hopes to escape by swimming to the 
 
Chap, vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 103 
 
 opposite bank — a desperate effort, in which few succeeded. — 
 Their infantry at the same time evacuated the camp without 
 a show of resistance, precipitated themselves into the boats, 
 and endeavored to cross the Nile. Very many of these also 
 were destroyed. The French soldiers long afterwards occu- 
 pied themselves in fishing for the drowned Mamelukes, and 
 failed not to find money and valuables upon all whom they 
 could recover. Murad Bey, with a part of his best Mame- 
 lukes, escaped the slaughter by a more regular movement to 
 the left, and retreated by Gizeh into Upper Egypt. 
 
 Thus were in a great measure destroyed the finest cavalry, 
 considered as individual horsemen, that were ever known to 
 exist. " Could I have united the Mameluke horse to the 
 French infantry,'' said Buonaparte, " I would have reckoned 
 myself master of the world." The destruction of a body 
 hitherto regarded as invincible, struck terror, not through 
 Egypt only, but far into Africa and Asia, wherever the Mos- 
 lem religion prevailed; and the rolling fire of musketry by 
 which the victory was achieved, procured for Buonaparte the 
 oriental appellation, of Sultan Kebir, or King of Fire. 
 
 After this combat, which, to render it more striking to the 
 Parisians, Buonaparte termed the " Battle of the Pyramids," 
 Cairo surrendered without resistance. The shattered remains 
 of the Mamelukes who had swam the Nile and united under 
 Ibrahim Bey, were compelled to retreat into Syria. A party 
 of three hundred French cavalry ventured to attack them at 
 Salahieh, but were severely handled by Ibrahim Bey and his 
 followers, who, having cut many of them to pieces, pursued 
 their retreat without further interruption. Lower Egypt was 
 completely in the hands of the French, and thus far the expe- 
 dition of Buonaparte had been perfectly successful. 
 
 Although unable to enter the harbor of Alexandria, Brueyes 
 the French admiral believed his squadron safely moored in the 
 celebrated Bay of Aboukir. They formed a compact line of 
 battle, of a semi-circular form, anchored so close to the shoal 
 water and surf, that it was thought impossible to get between 
 them and the land; and they concluded, therefore, that they 
 could be brought to action on the starboard side only. On 
 the 1st of August the British fleet appeared; and Nelson had 
 no sooner reconnoitred the French position than he resolved 
 to force it at every risk. Where the French ships could ride, 
 he argued with instantaneous decision, there must be room 
 for English vessels to anchor between them and the shore. — 
 He made signal for the attack accordingly As the vessels 
 
104 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vii. 
 
 approached the French anchorage, they received a heavy and 
 raking fire, to which they could make no return; but they kept 
 their bows to the enemy, and continued to near their line. — 
 The squadrons were nearly of the same numerical strength. 
 The French had thirteen ships of the line, and four frigates. 
 The English thirteen ships of the line, and one 50 gun ship. 
 But the French had three 80 gun ships, and L'Orient, a su- 
 perb vessel of 120 guns. All the British were seventy-fours. 
 The van of the English fleet, six in number, rounded succes- 
 sively the French line, and dropping anchor betwixt them and 
 the shore, opened a tremendous fire. Nelson himself, and his 
 other vessels ranged along the same French ships on the outer 
 side, and thus placed them betwixt two fires; while the rest 
 of the French had remained for a time unable to take a share 
 in the combat. The battle commenced with the utmost fury, 
 and lasted till the sun having set, and the night having fallen, 
 there was no light by which the combat could be continued, 
 save the flashes of the continuous broadsides. Already, how- 
 ever, some of the French vessels were taken, and the victors, 
 advancing onwards, assailed those which had not yet been 
 engaged. 
 
 Meantime a broad and dreadful light was thrown on the 
 scene of action, by the breaking out of a conflagration on 
 board the French admiral's flag-ship, L'Orient. Brueyes 
 himself had by this time fallen by a cannon-shot. The flames 
 soon mastered the immense vessel, where the carnage was so 
 terrible as to prevent all attempts to extinguish them; and the 
 L'Orient remained blazing like a volcano in the middle of the 
 combat, rendering for a time the dreadful spectacle visible. 
 
 At length, and while the battle continued as furious as ev- 
 er, the burning vessel blew up with so tremendous an explo- 
 sion, that for a while it silenced the fire on both sides, and made 
 an awful pause in the midst of what had been but lately so 
 horrible a tumult. The cannonade was at first slowly and 
 partially resumed, but ere midnight it raged with all its origi- 
 nal fury. In the morning the only two French ships who had 
 their colors flying, cut their cables and put to sea, accompani- 
 ed by two frigates; being all that remained undestroyed and 
 uncaptured, of the gallant navy that so lately escorted Buona- 
 parte and his fortunes in triumph across the Mediterranean. 
 
 Meantime Napoleon busied himself in augmenting his means 
 of defence or conquest, and in acquiring the information ne- 
 cessary to protect what he had gained, a*nd to extend his do- 
 minions. For the former purpose, corps were raised from 
 among the Egyptians, and some were mounted upon drome- 
 
Chap, vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 105 
 
 claries, the better to encounter the perils of the desert. For 
 the latter, Buonaparte undertook a journey to the Isthmus of 
 Suez, the well-known interval which connects Asia with Afri- 
 ca. He subscribed the charter, or protection, granted to the 
 Maronite Monks of Sinai, with the greater pleasure, that the 
 signature of Mahommed had already sanctioned that ancient 
 document. He visited the celebrated fountains of Moses, 
 and, misled by a guide, had nearly been drowned in the ad- 
 vancing tides of the Red Sea. 
 
 When Napoleon was engaged in this expedition, or speedi- 
 ly on his return, he learned that two Turkish armies had as- 
 sembled — one at Rhodes, and the other in Syria, with the pur- 
 pose of recovering Egypt. The daring genius, which al- 
 ways desired to anticipate the attempts of the enemy, deter- 
 mined him to march with a strong force for the occupation of 
 Syria, and thus at once to alarm the Turks by the progress 
 which he expected to make in that province, and to avoid be- 
 ing attacked in Egypt by two Turkish armies at the same 
 time. His commencement was as successful as his enterprize 
 was daring. A body of Mamelukes was dispersed by a night 
 attack. The fort of El Arish, considered as one of the keys 
 of Egypt, fell easily' into his hands. Finally, at the head of 
 about ten thousand men, he traversed the desert, so famous in 
 biblical history, which separates Africa from Asia, and enter- 
 ed Palestine without much loss, but not without experiencing 
 the privations to which the wanderers in these sandy wastes 
 have been uniformly^ubjected. While his soldiers looked 
 with fear on the howling wilderness which they saw around, 
 there was something in the extent and loneliness of the scene 
 that corresponded with the swelling soul of Napoleon, and 
 accommodated itself to his ideas of immense and boundless 
 space. 
 
 Upon his entering the Holy Land, Buonaparte again drove 
 before him a body of Mamelukes, belonging to those who, af- 
 ter the battles of the Pyramids and of Salahieh, had retreat- 
 ed into Syria; and his army occupied without resistance Ga- 
 za, anciently a city of the Philistines, in which they found 
 supplies of provisions. Jaffa, a celebrated city during the 
 Crusades, was the next object of attack. It was bravely as- 
 saulted and fiercely defended. But the French valor and dis- 
 cipline prevailed — the place was carried by storm — three 
 thousand Turks wer* put to the sword, and the town was 
 abandoned to the license of the soldiery, which never assum- 
 ed a shape more frightful. 
 
106 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vii. 
 
 After the breach had been stormed, a large part of the gar- 
 rison, estimated by Buonaparte at twelve hundred men, re- 
 mained on the defensive, and held out in the mosques, and a 
 sort of citadel to which they had retreated, till, at length, de- 
 spairing of succour, they surrendered their arms, and were in 
 appearance admitted to quarter. Of this body, the Egyptians 
 were carefully separated from the Turks, Maugrabins and Ar- 
 naouts; and while the first were restored to liberty, and sent 
 back to their country, these last were placed under a strong 
 guard. Provisions were distributed to them, and they were 
 permitted to go by detachments in quest of water. Accord- 
 ing to all appearance, they were considered and treated as 
 prisoners of war. This was on the 7th of March. On the 
 9th, two days afterwards, this body of prisoners were march- 
 ed out of Jaffa, in the centre of a large square battalion, com- 
 manded by General Bon. The Turks foresaw their fate, but 
 used neither entreaties nor complaints to avert it. They 
 marched on, silent and composed. They were escorted to 
 the sand-hills to the south-east of Jaffa, divided there into 
 small bodies, and put to death by musketry. The execution 
 lasted a considerable time, and the wounded were despatched 
 with the bayonet. Their bodies were heaped together, and 
 formed a pyramid which is still visible consisting now of hu- 
 man bones as originally of bloody corpses. 
 
 Buonaparte states that the massacre was justified by the 
 laws of war — that the head of his messenger had been cut off 
 by the governor of Jaffa, when sent to lummon him to sur- 
 render — that these Turks were a part of the garrison of El 
 Arish, who had engaged not to serve against the French, and 
 were found immediately afterwards defending Jaffa, in breach 
 of the terms of their capitulation. They had incurred the 
 doom of death, therefore, by the rules of war. Wellington, 
 he said, would, in his place, have acted in the same manner. 
 
 About this time the plague broke out in the army. Buona- 
 parte, with a moral courage, deserving much praise went into 
 the hospitals in person, and while exposing himself, without 
 hesitation, to the infection, diminished the terror of the disease 
 in the opinion of the soldiers generally, and even of the pa- 
 tients themselves, who were thus enabled to keep up their 
 spirits, and gained by doing so the fairest chance of recovery. 
 
 Meantime, determined to prosecute the conquest of Syria, 
 Buonaparte resolved to advance to Saint Jean de Acre, so 
 celebrated in the wars of Palestine. The Turkish Pacha, 
 or governor of Syria, who, like others in his situation, account- 
 
Chap, vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 107 
 
 ed himself almost an independent sovereign, was Achmet, 
 who, by his unrelenting cruelties and executions, had pro- 
 cured the terrible distinction of Djezzar, or Butcher. 
 
 The Pacha had communicated the approach of Napoleon 
 to Sir Sydney Smith, to whom had been committed the charge 
 of assisting the Turks in their proposed expedition to Egypt, 
 and who, for that purpose, was cruising in the Levant. He 
 hastened to sail for Acre with the Tigre and Theseus, ships 
 of the line, and arriving there two days ere the French made 
 their appearance, contributed greatly to place the town, the 
 fortifications of which were on the old gothic plan, in a re- 
 spectable state of defence. 
 
 On the 17th of March, the French came in sight of Acre, 
 which is built on a peninsula advancing into the sea, and so 
 conveniently situated that vessels can lie near the shore, and 
 annoy with their fire whatever advances to assault the fortifi- 
 cations. Notwithstanding the presence of two British ships 
 of war, and the disappointment concerning his battering can- 
 non, which were now pointed against him from the ramparts, 
 Buonaparte, with a characteristic perseverance, refused to 
 abandon his purpose, and proceeded to open trenches, al- 
 though the guns which he had to place in them were only 
 twelve pounders. The point of attack was a large tower 
 which predominated over the rest of the fortifications. A 
 mine at the same time was run under the extreme defences. 
 
 By the 28th of March a breach was effected, the mine was 
 sprung, and the French proceeded to the assault upon that 
 day. They advanced at the charging step, under a murder- 
 ous fire from the walls, but had the mortification to find a 
 deep ditch betwixt them and the tower. They crossed it, nev- 
 ertheless, by help of the scaling-ladders which they carried 
 with them, and forced their way as far as the tower, from 
 which it is said that the defenders, impressed by the fate of 
 Jaffa, were beginning to fly. They were checked by the ex- 
 ample of Djezzar himself, who fired his own pistols at the 
 French, and upbraided the Moslems who were retreating from 
 the walls. The defences were again manned; the French, 
 unable to support the renewed fire, were checked and forced 
 back; and the Turks falling upon them in their retreat with 
 sabre in hand, killed a number of their best men, and Mailly, 
 who commanded the party. 
 
 While the strife was thus fiercely maintained on both sides, 
 with mutual loss and increased animosity, the besiegers were 
 threatened with other dangers. An army of Moslem troops 
 
108 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vii. 
 
 of various nations, but all actuated by the same religious zeal, 
 had formed themselves in the mountains of Samaria, and unit- 
 ing with them the warlike inhabitants of that country, now 
 called Naplous, formed the plan of attacking tke French army 
 lying before Acre on one side, while Djezzar and his allies 
 should assail them on the other. Kleber, with his division, 
 was despatched by Buonaparte to disperse this assemblage. 
 But though he obtained considerable advantages over detach- 
 ed parties of the Syrian army, their strength was so dispro- 
 portioned, that at last, while he held a position near Mount 
 Tabor, with two or three thousand men, he was surrounded 
 by about ten times his own number. But his general-in-chief 
 was hastening to his assistance. Buonaparte left two divisions 
 to keep the trenches before Acre, and penetrated into the 
 country in three columns. Murat, at the head of a fourth, 
 occupied the pass called Jacob's Bridge. The attack, made 
 on various points, was everywhere successful. The camp of 
 the Syrian army was taken; their defeat, almost their disper- 
 sion, was accomplished, while their scattered remains fled to 
 Damascus. Buonaparte returned, crowned with laurels, to the 
 siege of Acre. 
 
 Here, too, the arrival of thirty pieces of heavy cannon 
 from Jaffa seemed to promise that success, which the French 
 had as yet been unable to attain. The assailants suffered se- 
 verely in their desperate assaults, for they were exposed to 
 the fire of two ravelins or external fortifications, and' at the 
 same time enfiladed by the fire of the British shipping. At 
 length, employing to the uttermost the heavy artillery now in 
 his possession, Buonaparte, in spite of a bloody and obstinate 
 opposition, forced his way to the disputed tower, and made a 
 lodgment on the second story. It afforded, however, no ac- 
 cess to the town; and the troops remained there as in a cul de 
 sac, the lodgment being covered from the English and Turk- 
 ish fire by a work constructed partly of packs of cotton, and 
 partly of the dead bodies of the slain, built up along with 
 them. 
 
 At this critical moment, a fleet, bearing reinforcements long 
 hoped for and much needed, appeared in view of the garrison. 
 They contained Turkish troops under the command of Hassan 
 Bey. Yet near as they were, the danger was imminent that 
 Acre might be taken ere they could land. To prevent such a 
 misfortune, Sir Sidney Smith in person proceeded to the dis- 
 puted tower, at the head of a body of British seamen, armed 
 with pikes. They united themselves to a corps of brave 
 
Chap, vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 109 
 
 Turks, who defended the breach rather with heavy stones 
 than with other weapons. The heap of ruins which divided 
 the contending parties served as a breast work to both. The 
 muzzles of the muskets touched each other, and the spear- 
 heads of the standards were locked together. At this mo- 
 ment one of the Turkish regiments of Hassan's army, which 
 had by this time landed, made a sortie upon the French; and 
 though they were driven back, yet the diversion occasioned 
 the besiegers to be forced from their lodgment. 
 
 Abandoning the ill-omened tower, which had cost the be- 
 siegers so many men, Buonaparte now turned his efforts to- 
 wards a considerable breach that had been effected in the 
 curtain, and which promised a more easy entrance. It prov- 
 ed, indeed, but too easy; for Djezzar Pacha opposed to the 
 assault on this occasion a new mode of tactics. Confiding in 
 his superior numbers, he suffered the French, who were com- 
 manded by the intrepid General Lasnes, to surmount the 
 breach without opposition, by which they penetrated into 
 the body of the place. They had no sooner entered, than a 
 numerous body of Turks, mingled among them with loud 
 shouts; and ere they had time or room to avail themselves of 
 their discipline, brought them into that state of close fighting, 
 where strength and agility are superior to every other acquire- 
 ment. The Turks wielding the sabre in one hand, and the 
 poinard in the other, cut to pieces almost all the French who 
 had entered. General Rambaud lay a headless corpse in the 
 breach — Lasnes was with difficulty brought off, severely 
 wounded. The Turks gave no quarter; and instantly cutting 
 the heads off of those whom they slew, carried them to the 
 Pacha, who sat in public distributing money to those who 
 brought him these bloody trophies, which now lay piled in 
 heaps around him. This was the sixth assault upon these tot- 
 tering and blood-stained ramparts. "Victory," said Napole- 
 on, " is to the most persevering;' 7 and contrary to the advice 
 of Kleber, he resolved upon another and yet more desperate 
 attack. 
 
 On the 21st of May the final effort was made. The attack 
 of the morning failed, and Colonel Veneux renewed it at mid- 
 day. "Be assured," said he to Buonaparte, "Acre shall be 
 yours to-night, or Veneux will die on the breach." He kept 
 his word at the cost of his life. Bon was also slain, whose 
 division had been the executioners of the garrison at Jaffa.— 
 The French now retreated, dispirited, and despairing of suc- 
 cess. The contest had been carried on at half a musket shot 
 
1 10 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vii. 
 
 distance; and the bodies of the dead lying around, putrified 
 under the burning sun, and spread disease among the survi- 
 vors. 
 
 The siege of Acre had now continued sixty days since the 
 opening of the trenches. The besiegers had marched no less 
 than eight times to the assault, while eleven desperate sallies 
 were evidence of the obstinacy of the defence. Several of 
 the best French generals were killed; among the rest Caffa- 
 relli, for whom Buonaparte had particular esteem; and the 
 army was greatly reduced by the sword and the plague, which 
 raged at once among their devoted bands. Retreat became 
 inevitable, and it was conducted with great skill and secrecy, 
 though Buonaparte was compelled to leave behind him his 
 heavy cannon, which he either buried or threw into the sea. 
 
 Buonaparte continued his retreat from Syria, annoyed by 
 the natives, who harrassed his march, and retaliating the in- 
 juries which he received, by plundering and burning the vil- 
 lages which lay in the course of his march. He left Jaffa 
 on the 26th of May, and upon the 14th of June re-entered 
 Cairo, with a reputation not so much increased by the victory 
 at Mount Tabor, as diminished and sullied for the time by the 
 retreat from Acre. 
 
 Lower Egypt, during the absence of Buonaparte, had re- 
 mained undisturbed, unless by partial insurrections. In Up- 
 per Egypt there had been more obstinate contention. Murad 
 Bey, already mentioned as the ablest chief of the Mame- 
 lukes, had maintained himself in that country with a degree 
 of boldness and sagacity, which gave the French much trou- 
 ble. His fine force of cavalry enabled him to advance or re- 
 treat at pleasure, and his perfect acquaintance with the coun- 
 try added much to his advantage. 
 
 JDessaix, sent against Murad after the battle of the Pyra- 
 mids, had again defeated the Mameluke chief at Sedinan, 
 where was once made evident, the superiority of European 
 discipline over the valor of the irregular cavalry of the East. 
 Still the destruction of the enterprising Bey was far from com- 
 plete. Reinforced by a body of cavalry, Dessaix, in the 
 month of December, 1798, again attacked him, and, after a 
 number of encounters, terminating generally to the advan- 
 tage of the French, the remaining Mamelukes, with their al- 
 lies, the Arabs, were at length compelled to take shelter in 
 the Desert. Egypt seemed entirely at the command of the 
 French; and Cosseir, a seaport on the Red Sea, had been 
 taken possession of by a flotilla, fitted out to command that 
 gulf. 
 
Chap. vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Ill 
 
 Three or four weeks after Buonaparte's return from Syria, 
 this flattering state of tranquility seemed on the point of be- 
 ing disturbed. Murad Bey, re-entering Upper Egypt with 
 his Mamelukes and allies, descended the Nile in two bodies, 
 one occupying each bank of the river. Ibrahim Bey made a 
 corresponding movement towards the frontiers of Syria, as if 
 to communicate with the right-hand division of Murad's army 
 La Grange was despatched against the Mamelukes who oc- 
 cupied the right bank, while Murat marched against those 
 who, under the Bey himself, were descending the Nile. 
 
 Meantime the cause of this incursion was explained by the 
 appearance of a Turkish fleet off Alexandria, who disembark- 
 ed 18,000 men at Aboukir. This Turkish army possessed 
 themselves of the fort, and proceeded to fortify themselves, 
 expecting the arrival of the Mamelukes, according to the plan 
 which had previously been adjusted for expelling the French 
 from Egypt. This news reached Buonaparte near the Pyra- 
 mids, to which he had advanced, in order to ensure the de- 
 struction of Murad Bey. The arrival of the Turks instantly 
 recalled him to Alexandria, whence he marched to Aboukir to 
 repel the invaders. He joined his army, which had assembled 
 from all points within a short distance of the Turkish camp, 
 and was employed late in the night making preparations for 
 the battle on the next morning. 
 
 Next morning, being the 25th of July, Buonaparte com- 
 menced an attack on the advanced posts of the enemy, and 
 succeeded in driving them in upon the main body, which was 
 commanded by Seid Mustapha Pacha. In their first attack, 
 the French were eminently successful, and pursued the fugi- 
 tive Turks to their entrenchments, doing great execution. — 
 But when the batteries opened upon them from the trenches, 
 whilst they were at the same time exposed to the fire from the 
 gun-boats in the bay, their impetuosity was checked, and the 
 Turks sallying out upon them with their muskets slung at 
 their backs, made such havoc among the French with their 
 sabres, poinards and pistols, as compelled them to retreat in 
 their turn. The advantage was lost by the eagerness of the 
 barbarians to possess themselves of the heads of their fallen 
 enemies, for which they receive a certain reward. They 
 threw themselves confusedly out of the entrenchments to ob- 
 tain these bloody testimonials, and were in considerable disor- 
 der, when the French suddenly rallied, charged them with 
 great fury, drove them back into the works, and scaled the 
 ramparts along with them. 
 
112 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, vii 
 
 Murat had made good his promise of the preceding even- 
 ing, and had been ever in the front of the battle. When the 
 French had surmounted the entrenchments, he formed a col- 
 umn which reversed the position of the Turks, and pressing 
 them with the bayonet, threw them into utter and inextricable 
 confusion. Fired upon and attacked on every point, they be- 
 came, instead of an army, a confused rabble, who, rn the im- 
 petuosity of animal terror, threw themselves by hundreds and 
 by thousands into the sea, which at once seemed covered with 
 turbans. It was no longer a battle, but a massacre; and it 
 was only when wearied with slaughter that quarter was given 
 to about six thousand men — the rest of the Turkish army, 
 consisting of eighteen thousand, perished on the field or in 
 the waves. 
 
 This splendid and most decisive victory of Aboukir con- 
 cluded Napoleon's career in the East. It was imperiously 
 necessary ere he could have ventured to quit the command of 
 his army, with the hope of preserving his credit with the pub- 
 lic; and it enabled him to plead that he left Egypt for the time 
 in absolute security. 
 
 His military views had indeed been uniformly successful; 
 and Egypt was under the dominion of France as completely 
 as the sword could subject it. For two years afterwards, like* 
 the strong man in the parable, they kept the house which they 
 had won, until there came in a stronger, by whom they were 
 finally and forcibly expelled. 
 
 Admiral Gantheaume, who had been with the army ever 
 since the destruction of the fleet, received the General's or- 
 ders to make ready for sea, with all possible despatch, two fri- 
 gates then lying in the harbor of Alexandria. 
 
 Meantime, determined to preserve his credit with the' Insti- 
 tute, and to bring evidence of what he had done for the cause 
 of science, Buonaparte commanded Monge, who is said to 
 have suggested the expedition, and the accomplished Denon, 
 who became its historian, with Berthollet, to prepare to ac- 
 company him to Alexandria. Of military chiefs, he selected 
 the generals Berthier, Murat, Lasnes, Marmont, Dessaix, An- 
 dreossi and Bessieres, the best and most attached of his officers. 
 He left Cairo as soon as he heard the frigates were ready 
 and the sea open, making a visit to Delta the pretext of his 
 tour. Kleber and Menou, whom he meant to leave first and 
 second in command, were appointed to meet him in Alexan- 
 dria. But he had an interview with the latter only. 
 
 Napoleon left behind him a short proclamation, apprising the 
 
Chap, vii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 1 13 
 
 army that news of importance from France had recalled him 
 to Europe, but that they should soon hear tidings of him. — 
 He exhorted them in the meantime to have confidence in their 
 new commander, who possessed, he said, his good opinion, 
 and that of the government, and in these terms he bade them 
 farewell. Two frigates, La Muiron and La Carere, being 
 ready for sea, the General embarked from an unfrequented 
 part of the beach on the 23d of August. 
 
 Ere the frigates were far from land, they were reconnoitred 
 by an English corvette, a circumstance which seemed of evil 
 augury. Buonaparte assured his companions, by his usual al- 
 lusions to his own destiny, " We will arrive safe," he said; 
 " Fortune will never abandon us — we will arrive safe in de- 
 spite of the enemy." 
 
 To avoid the English cruisers, the vessels coasted the 
 shores of Africa, and the wind was so contrary, that they 
 made but an hundred leagues in twenty days. At length 
 they ventured to stand northward, and on the 30th of Septem- 
 ber, they entered by singular chance, the port of Ajaccio in 
 Corsica, and Buonaparte found himself near his native city. 
 On the 7th of October, they again put to sea, but upon ap- 
 proaching the French coast, they found themselves in the 
 neighborhood of a squadron of English men-of-war. The 
 admiral would have tacked about, to return to Corsica. — 
 " To do so," said Buonaparte, u would be to take the road to 
 England — I am seeking that to France." He probably meant 
 that the manoeuvre would attract the attention of the English. 
 They kept on their course; but the peril of being captured 
 seemed so imminent, that, though still several leauges from 
 the shore, Gantheaume proposed to man his long-boat, in or- 
 der that the General might attempt his escape in her. Buona- 
 parte observed, that that measure might be deferred till the 
 case was more desperate. 
 
 At length they passed, unsuspected and unquestioned, 
 through the hostile squadron, and on the 9th of October, at 
 ten in the morning, he on whose fate the world so long seem- 
 ed to depend, landed at St. Rapheau, near Frejus. He had 
 departed at the head of a powerful fleet, and a victorious ar- 
 my, on an expedition designed to alter the destinies of the 
 most ancient nations of the world. The result had been far 
 from commensurate to the means employed — the fleet had 
 perished — the army was blockaded in a distant province, when 
 their arms were most necessary at home. He returned clan- 
 destinely, and almost alone; yet Providence designed that, in 
 
114 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, vnr 
 
 this apparently deserted condition, he should be the instru- 
 ment of more extensive and more astonishing changes, than 
 the efforts of the greatest conquerors had.ever before been 
 able to effect upon the civilized world. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 General rejoicing on the Return of Buonaparte. Political Revolution. — 
 Napoleon appointed to command the Military Force. He enters the 
 Council of Five Hundred. His perilous situation. Buonaparte chosen 
 First Consul. He resolves to bring back victory to the French Stand- 
 ards. Passes the Alps at Mont. St. Bernard. The Van-guard takes 
 possession of Aosta. Town of Bard captured. Great Battle of 
 Marengo, and complete Victory of the French. Buonaparte re- 
 turns to Paris. "An Armistice takes place, followed by a Treaty of 
 Peace. 
 
 Buonaparte set out, almost immediately from Frejus, 
 where he landed, for Paris. During his journey, he was ev- 
 ery where received with the strongest demonstrations of joy; 
 the people surrounding, saluted him with the cry of peace! 
 peace! an evidence how much the nation sighed for the great- 
 est of all blessings, and that they looked to him as the only 
 man capable of healing the wounds of their country, at which 
 its life's blood so freely flowed. He reached the capital on 
 the 16th of October; with the rapidity of lightning, the news 
 spread over the city; all hastened to behold the hero whom 
 they had once honored as the conqueror of Italy, and whom 
 they now saluted as the fl conqueror of Egypt;" the most rap- 
 turous joy was manifested, and each seemed desirous of out- 
 doing the rest in welcoming home the hero of the nation, and 
 in testifying his joy on the occasion. He arrived at a great cri- 
 sis; when the flames of insurrection had been lighted up in 
 the southern and eastern departments of France, and the 
 torches of discord in the capital; when from the imbecility of 
 the Government and the violence of the factions* the most 
 alarming disorders every where prevailed; and at the very 
 time that General Jourdan in the council of Five Hundred 
 had proposed a decree, " declaring the country in danger." — 
 
Chap, viii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 115 
 
 The afflicted and critical condition or the nation undoubtedly 
 contributed to the transports of joy manifested by the people 
 at the return of Buonaparte, as in the agitation and alarm 
 which prevailed, it was natural from his unexpected appear- 
 ance, and the eclat attached to his name, for the people to re- 
 gard him, as having returned for their deliverance. When 
 the confidence in the government was in a great measure de- 
 stroyed, and faction reigned in the capital, and insurrection 
 in the departments, not knowing to what quarter to lopk for 
 succor or security, all eyes were fixed upon the man who had 
 done so much to extend the glory of his country; who in all 
 his wars had never been defeated, and who had once " con- 
 quered a peace" with all their enemies on the continent. 
 
 Buonaparte did not fail to promote these feelings in the 
 people; he assumed an affability in his manners that he did 
 not possess before he left France; he conversed freely with 
 the people, and shook by the hand several soldiers, who had 
 belonged to the "army of Italy." A tropical sun and the 
 sands of Egypt, had bronzed his complexion; his hair was 
 cut short and without powder; he was not in uniform, but had 
 on a grey riding coat with a silk scarf over his shoulders, sus- 
 pending a Turkish sabre; his whole appearance, novel and 
 striking, suggested the idea of greater manliness and energy, 
 than his physiognomy had formerly disclosed. On entering 
 the city, amidst the acclamations of the populace, he passed 
 along the courts and streets leading to the Luxembourg, 
 and immediately had an interview with the directory. 
 
 Napoleon, seemed to give his exclusive attention to litera- 
 ture, and, having exchanged the usual visits of form with the 
 ministers of the Republic, he was more frequently to be found 
 at the Institute, or discussing with the traveller Volney, and 
 other men of letters, the information which he had acquired 
 in Egypt on science and antiquities, than in the haunts of 
 politicians, or the society of the leaders of either party in the 
 state. Neither was he to be seen at the places of popular re- 
 sort — he went into no general company, seldom attended the 
 theatres, and, when he did, took his seat in a private box. 
 
 He was not, however, inactive; he perceived that a crisis 
 in the government was approaching, and determined to take 
 advantage of the existing state of things. He knew that the 
 feelings of the people were strongly in his favor, and consid- 
 ered that the best way to maintain his popularity was to se- 
 clude himself from the gaze of idle curiosity; every body 
 talked of him, but few, if any, really knew him. He was ac- 
 
116 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vm. 
 
 tive in attaching to himself men of talents and enterprize, in 
 whom he could safely confide, and who might be useful to 
 him in any plans he might attempt to carry into execution. 
 
 The Abbe Sieyes had for some time meditated a change in 
 the government, and had suggested to Ducos, one of his col- 
 leagues, and who was entirely devoted to him, his plan of 
 strengthening the executive, by calling in one of the generals, 
 which he considered the only means of saving the directory 
 and the republic from that anarchy, which, from the imbecili- 
 ty of the government, seemed hastening upon it. He was ac- 
 cordingly pleased at the enthusiasm which the people mani- 
 fested on the return of Buonaparte, whilst the other directors 
 were greatly alarmed at it. An understanding soon took 
 place between them. It was determined to assemble the most 
 moderate men of the council of ancients at a special meeting, 
 at which the Jacobins and the most violent members were not 
 to be present, nor informed of the meeting. The select mem- 
 bers, very few of whom, however, were in the secret, or had 
 any knowledge of the sitting, assembled in the Tuilleries 
 agreeably to notice, on the 9th of November, 1799, at five 
 o'clock in the morning. Cornet, the reporter of the commit- 
 tee of inspectors, opened the meeting with a speech, repre- 
 senting in glowing language the alarming disorders which pre- 
 vailed, the designs of the factions, and the danger of the re- 
 public, and concluded with proposing that, according to the 
 102d and 103d articles of the constitution, the council adjourn 
 to St. Cloud, and that General Buonaparte be charged with 
 the execution of this decree, and for this purpose appointed 
 commander of all the troops of Paris, the national guards and 
 the guards of the two councils. This decree was carried by 
 a great majority. 
 
 A proclamation was immedip*ely issued, in which it was 
 stated, that this measure had been adopted by the council of 
 ancients, in order to repress the factions which pretended to 
 enslave the national representation; to restore internal, and 
 open a way for external peace, which the long sufferings ot 
 the people demanded, and for the safety and prosperity of the 
 republfc. 
 
 Buonaparte being informed of his appointment, appeared, 
 accompanied by generals Berthier, Moreau, Lefebvre, Mac- 
 donald and other officers, at the bar of the council, and the 
 president notifying him of his appointment, he spoke as fol 
 lows : — 
 
Chap, vm.] , CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 1 17 
 
 "citizen representatives! 
 
 " The republic was perishing — you knew this, and your de- 
 cree has saved it. Woe be to those who wish for anarchy, 
 whoever they may be! Aided by generals Berthier, Lefebvre, 
 and all my brave companions in arms, I shall arrest their 
 course. Let us not seek in the past for examples to justify 
 the present; for nothing in history resembles the conclusion 
 of the eighteenth century, and nothing in that resembles the 
 present moment. 
 
 " Your wisdom has issued this decree — our arms shall exe- 
 cute it. We demand a republic founded on a just basis, on 
 true liberty, on civil liberty and national representation, and 
 we will have it. We will have it — I swear it — I swear it in 
 my own name, and in the names of my brave comrades." 
 
 The following day was big with important events. Buona- 
 parte had taken prompt measures to carry into effect the de- 
 cree, and surrounded the castle of St. Cloud with troops be- 
 fore day-light; every avenue being strictly guarded, no one 
 was permitted to enter except the members of the two coun- 
 cils, who could not pass without shewing the medals, and a 
 few others who had tickets of admittance. The sitting was 
 to commence at 12 o'clock, but did not until two; the coun- 
 cil of ancients met in the picture gallery, and the council of 
 five hundred in the Orangerie. The debates in the latter 
 were opened by an animated speech from Gaudin, who, after 
 expatiating upon the alarming and critical posture of affairs, 
 proposed raising a committee of seven to take into considera- 
 tion the best means for public safety. This motion, which 
 was expected to have been carried without opposition, had 
 scarcely been suggested", when several leading Jacobin mem- 
 bers darted forward into the tribune, crying "down with dicta- 
 tors," which soon became general; others exclaimed "the 
 constitution or death! we are not afraid of bayonets, we will 
 die at our posts." Instantly it was proposed that every mem- 
 ber take a fresh oath to preserve the constitution. The pro- 
 ceedings having occasioned such excitement, and thrown the 
 other party off their guard, that the cry of "long live the 
 constitution" became general, and the motion was immediate- 
 ly carried. 
 
 The only object gained or expected by renewing the oath, 
 was delay, which was of no small importance to the Jacobins. 
 This ceremony being over, various motions were made and 
 discussed with great confusion; and some were carried di- 
 rectly opposite to the wishes of those who were in the views 
 of Buonaparte and Sieyes. 
 
1 18 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap vhi. 
 
 A letter was received by the president; it was from Barras, 
 communicating his resignation; but was couched in such am- 
 biguous terms, as seemed to insinuate a desire of being em- 
 ployed under a new order of things expected; a violent de- 
 bate ensued upon the question whether the assembly should 
 proceed to the choice of a new director. Great confusion 
 arose, which was increased from the circumstance, of many 
 of the members who were well disposed towards a change, 
 being ignorant of the plan of operations, and of the inten- 
 tions of Buonaparte; — all the elements of faction, violence, 
 and political dissention, were agitated; a tremendous storm 
 seemed gathering, and the angry clouds of passion appeared 
 charged with electric wrath; a tumultuous and violent discus- 
 sion ensued. Buonaparte being informed of these violent 
 and outrageous proceedings, became greatly agitated; he 
 hastened to the assembly, and leaving his arms in an anti-cham- 
 ber, immediately entered the hall, accompanied by a few 
 grenadiers, who waited within the door, and were without 
 arms. As he advanced towards the top of the hall, the house 
 was instantly in motion; the cry from numerous voices was 
 heard; "A general here!" "what does Buonaparte want 
 with us!" (t This is not your place." — Some rushed towards 
 the tribune, others towards Buonaparte, exclaiming vehement- 
 ly, te Caesar! Cromwell! no dictators! down with the tyrant! 
 down with him! kill him! kill him." The press towards 
 Buonaparte became great, and his danger imminent; numbers 
 assailed him; several members drew their poniards and pis- 
 tols; he was pushed back and struck at; and a deputy of the 
 name of Arena, a native of Corsica, aimed a blow at him with 
 a dagger, which was parried by a grenadier of the name of 
 Thome, who had advanced to the assistance of his general, 
 and was himself wounded by the blow. By another blow, 
 Buonaparte was wounded on the cheek. 
 
 The president, Lucien Buonaparte, having so far restored 
 order as to be heard, attempted to address the chamber; "The 
 general" he observed, " has undoubtedly no other intention 
 than to acquaint the council with the present situation of af- 
 fairs." — Here his voice was drowned in loud clamours and 
 threats from all quarters; and Buonaparte was assailed by 
 such numbers and with such violence that he was so overpow- 
 ered as to be on the point of falling, like Caesar, in the sanc- 
 tuary of legislation, when he was rescued from his critical 
 situation by General Lefebvre, who, with a body of armed 
 grenadiers rushed into the hall, surrounded him, and carried 
 
Chap. Tin.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 119 
 
 him out. The instant the hall was clear of soldiers, a motion 
 was made and carried, declaring that the council of ancients 
 had no authority to invest Buonaparte with the command of 
 the army, the constitution having entrusted the power of mili- 
 tary appointments to the directory alone. 
 
 The president obtaining an opportunity to speak, animad- 
 verted with great severity on the disorderly conduct of the 
 council, and the ferocious insults which some of the members 
 had offered to an illustrious general who had rendered the 
 most signal services to the republic; — he was interrupted with 
 cries of " outlaw him! he has disgraced his military charac- 
 ter, and deserves death from the hand of every patriot." — 
 Others exclaimed, u The president is in the conspiracy, or he 
 would have proclaimed the general outlawed." The storm 
 which had partially subsided revived; the utmost confusion 
 prevailed; the house became an arena of gladiators, rather 
 than a hall of legislation. The president, perceiving that his 
 authority was entirely disregarded, and his life in danger, 
 darted from the chair, and indignantly stripping himself of 
 the insignia of his office, made his way to the tribune; he 
 attempted to speak; but his voice was drowned in loud cries 
 and imprecations against himself and his brother. He made 
 a violent effort to be heard, but in vain; tears of agony and 
 indignation started from his eyes; the house had become a 
 mob, and he was surrounded and attacked on all sides. His 
 destruction seemed inevitable, and would have been, had he 
 not been rescued by the prompt interference of his brother the 
 general. Having recovered from the fatigue of his late dan- 
 gerous assault, Buonaparte hastened to the court of the cas- 
 tle where the troops were drawn up, and instantly addressed 
 them; " Soldiers! every body thought that the council of five 
 hundred would save the country, but instead of that I have 
 seen only a furious and outrageous mob, ready to destroy me. 
 I have some enemies! comrades, may I rely on you?" yes, 
 yes, was the reply, followed by shouts of " Long live Buona- 
 parte." Selecting some grenadiers, he proceeded to the hall 
 and instantly opened the doors, at the very moment Lucien 
 was in danger of falling by the stilettoes of the deputies, and 
 carried him off amidst their vociferations. He was followed 
 by the more moderate members; Lucien went immediately to 
 the council of ancients, to whom he related the recent events 
 in the other branch of the Legislature, and the imminent 
 danger to which himself and his brother had been exposed. — 
 He then proceeded to the general, who was inspiring the 
 
120 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, vin J 
 
 troops, and preparing them for the accomplishment of his ul- 
 timate object. After a'moment's consultation with the gener- 
 al, he mounted a horse, the better to be seen and heard, and 
 addressed the soldiers. 
 
 The troops were then ordered to enter the hall of the coun- 
 cil of five hundred; and on approaching it, the commanding 
 officer exclaimed u General Buonaparte commands us to clear 
 this hall." The grenadiers advanced and filled the first half 
 of the hall, the deputies, like a flock of sheep when pursued 
 by dogs and unable to escape, retired to the further extremity, 
 and crowded round the president's chair. A deputy of the 
 name of Talot addressed the soldiers; a what, are you soldiers? 
 you are the guardians of the national representation — and you 
 dare to menace its safety and independence! is it thus you 
 tarnish the laurels you have gained in battle?" Many mem- 
 bers attempted to address the soldiers and to conjure them in 
 the name of liberty not to follow their leaders; but the drums 
 were ordered to beat, and they could not be heard. The 
 grenadiers brought their muskets to a charge and advanced; 
 a novel scene of confusion, alarm and dismay was exhibited. 
 Those deputies, who, just before, had sworn to die at their 
 posts, braved bayonets only at a distance; in their haste to 
 escape, they choked up the doors and windows, and tumbled 
 " cheek by jowl" over one another in "confusion dire;" amidst 
 the shouts of the soldiers from within, of " Long live the re- 
 public! long live Buonaparte!" and the hooting and hisses of 
 the people from without, and the cry of " these are the rep- 
 resentatives of the poniard." The chamber was soon clear- 
 ed, with which the council of ancients was immediately ac- 
 quainted. 
 
 Those members of the council of five hundred who had re- 
 tired with their president, assembled in the Orangerie about 
 nine in the evening, being protected by the troops. Lucien 
 again took the chair and sent a message to the other house, 
 informing the body of their having met, 
 
 A proposition was submitted to raise a committee of five 
 members, to consider the propriety of forming a new govern- 
 ment. This being adopted, Lucien Buonaparte left the chair, 
 and mounting the tribune, delivered an animated harangue, 
 recounting all the disasters of the republic, which he attribu- 
 ted to the weakness of the government and the misconduct of 
 the directory, whom he arraigned and censured with great in- 
 dignation, and concluded with urging the necessity of estab- 
 lishing a new government. His speech was received with 
 
Chap, viii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 121 
 
 the warmest applause, and repeated cries of " long live the 
 republic. " 
 
 Boulay de la Meurthe, chairman of the committee which 
 had been appointed, soon returned with a report, consisting 
 of the project of a decree for constituting a new government; 
 which was introduced with a long speech, in which he exam- 
 ined the defects of the constitution, expatiated in glowing 
 language upon the incapacity, profligacy and corruption 'of 
 the directory, depicted in lively images the horrors of anarchy, 
 with which the nation was threatened, and closed by urging 
 the necessity of adopting a new system, comprising a strong 
 executive, which alone could give solidity to the state, and 
 prevent the restoration of the reign of anarchy and terror. 
 
 " The legislative body creates provisionally an executive 
 committee, composed of citizens Sieves, and Roger Ducos, 
 ex-directors^ and Buonaparte, general. They shall bear the 
 name of u Consuls of the French Republic. '* 
 
 Thus in one day, an important revolution was successfully 
 accomplished; the old government overturned, and a new one 
 established. This event forms an important era in Buona- 
 parte's life, as it was the first instance in which he engaged 
 in political intrigues at home, and the first time that he was 
 invested with civil authority. 
 
 Buonaparte having availed himself of the influence ana 
 cunning of Sieyes, in effecting a revolution which had thrown 
 the whole executive power of the government into his own 
 hands, and supposing that he might stand in the way of his 
 ultimate objects, thought it best to dispose of him at the out- 
 set. Sieyes was prevailed upon to decline the consulate. — 
 Cambaceres and Le Brun, were elected consuls with Buona- 
 parte. The first, was at that time minister of justice; he was 
 a member of the convention, and voted for the confinement 
 and not for the death of the king; the latter was one of the 
 members of the committee of ancients; he had formerly been 
 secretary to the chancellor Maupeon, the most arbitrary and 
 tyranical of the ministers of Louis XV. He was considered 
 a man of talents and industry. 
 
 The retirement of Sieyes, was a memorable event in the 
 French revolution, as since its commencement he had acted 
 a conspicuous part, and at most periods exercised great influ- 
 ence oyer the executive power, which was now suddenly lost 
 altogether. 
 
 The first measures of Buonaparte's new government, and 
 the expectation attached to his name, had already gone some 
 
 6 
 
122 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. vih. 
 
 length in restoring domestic quiet; but he was well aware 
 ihat much more must be done to render that quiet permanent; 
 that the external relations of France with Europe must be at- 
 tended to without delay; and that the French expected from 
 him either the conclusion of an honorable peace, or the res- 
 toration of victory to their national banners. It was necessa- 
 ry, too, that advances towards peace should in the first place 
 be made, in order, if they were unsuccessful, that a national 
 spirit should be excited, which might reconcile the French to 
 the renewal of the war with fresh energy. 
 
 The external situation of France had been considerably 
 improved by the consequences of the battle of Zurich, and 
 the victories of Moreau. But the republic derived yet great- 
 er advantages from the breach between the Emperors of Aus- 
 tria and Russia. Paul, naturally of an uncertain temper, and 
 offended by the management of the last campaign, in which 
 Korsakow had been defeated, and Suwarrow checked, in con- 
 sequence of their being unsupported by the Austrian army, 
 had withdrawn his troops, so distinguished for their own brave- 
 ry as well as for the talents of their leader, from the seat of 
 war. But the Austrians, possessing a firmness of character 
 undismayed by defeat, and encouraged by the late success of 
 their arms under the veteran Melas, had made such gigantic 
 exertions as to counterbalance the loss of their Russian con- 
 federates. 
 
 Their principal force was in Italy, and it was on the Italian 
 frontier that they meditated a grand effort, by which, sup- 
 ported by the British fleet, they proposed to reduce Genoa, 
 and penetrate across the Var into Provence, where existed a 
 strong body of Royalists ready to take arms, under the com- 
 mand of General Willot, an emigrant officer. It was said the 
 celebrated Pichegru, who, escaped from Guiana, had taken 
 refuge in England, was also with this army, and was proposed 
 as chief leader of the expected insurrection. 
 
 To execute this plan, Melas was placed at the head of an 
 army of 140,000 men. This army was quartered for the win- 
 ter in the plains of Piedmont, and waited but the approach of 
 spring to commence operations. 
 
 Opposed to them, and occupying the country betwixt Genoa 
 and the Var, lay a French army of 40,000 men; the relics of 
 those who had been repeatedly defeated in Italy by Suwarrow. 
 They were quartered in a poor country, and the English 
 squadron, which blockaded the coast, was vigilant in prevent- 
 ing any supplies from being sent to them. Distress was there- 
 
Chap, viii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 123 
 
 fore considerable, and the troops were in proportion dispirit- 
 ed and disorganized. Whole corps abandoned their position, 
 contrary to orders; and with drums beating, and colors flying 
 returned into France. A proclamation from Napoleon was 
 almost alone sufficient to remedy these disorders. He called 
 on the soldiers, and particularly those corps who had former- 
 ly distinguished themselves under his command in his Italian 
 campaigns, to remember the confidence he had once placed 
 in them. 
 
 The scattered troops returned to their duty, as war-horses 
 when dispersed are said to rally and form ranks at the mere 
 sound of the trumpet. Massena, an officer, eminent for his 
 acquaintance with the mode of carrying on war in a moun- 
 tainous country, full of passes and strong positions, was en- 
 trusted with the command of the Italian army, which Buona- 
 parte resolved to support in person with the army of reserve. 
 
 The French army upon the Rhine possessed as great a su- 
 periority over the Austrians, as Melas, on the frontier, enjoy- 
 ed over Massena. Moreau was placed in the command of a 
 large army, augmented by a strong detachment from that of 
 General Brune, now no longer necessary for the protection 
 of Holland, and by the army of Helvetia, which, after the 
 defeat of Korsakow, was not farther required for the defence 
 of Switzerland. 
 
 General Moreau was much superior in numbers to Kray, 
 the Austrian who commanded on the Rhine, and received or- 
 ders to resume the offensive. He was cautious in his tactics, 
 though a most excellent officer, and was startled at the plan 
 sent him by Buonaparte, which directed him to cross the 
 Rhine at Schaffhausen, and, marching on Ulm with his 
 whole force, place himself in the rear of the greater part of 
 the Austrian army. This was one of those schemes, fraught 
 with great victories or great reverses, which Buonaparte de- 
 lighted to form, and which, often requiring much sacrifice of 
 men, occasioned his being called by those who loved him not, 
 a general at the rate of ten thousand men per day. Such en- 
 terprises resemble desperate passes in fencing, and must be 
 executed with the same decisive resolution with which they 
 are formed. Few even of Buonaparte's best generals could 
 be trusted with the execution of his master-strokes in tactics, 
 unless under his own immediate superintendance. 
 
 Moreau invaded Germany on a more modified plan; and a 
 series of marches, counter-marches, and desperate battles en- 
 sued, in which General Kray, admirably supported by the 
 
124 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.viis 
 
 Archduke Ferdinand, made a gallant defence against superi- 
 or numbers. 
 
 We return to the operations of Buonaparte during one of 
 the most important campaigns of his life, and in which he ad- 
 ded — if that were still possible — to the high military reputa- 
 tion he had acquired. 
 
 In committing the charge of the campaign upon the Rhine 
 to Moreau, the First Consul had reserved for himself the task 
 of bringing back victory to the French standards, on the 
 field in which he won his earliest laurels. His plan of victo- 
 ry again included a passage of the Alps, as boldly and unex- 
 pectedly as in 1795, but in a different direction. That earlier 
 period had this resemblance to the present, that on both occa- 
 sions, the Austrians menaced Genoa; but in 1800, it was only 
 from the Italian frontier and the Col di Tende, whereas, in 
 1795, the enemy were in possession of the mountains of Savoy 
 above Genoa. Switzerland too, formerly neutral, and allow- 
 ing no passage for armies, was now as open to French troops 
 as any of their own provinces, and of this Buonaparte deter- 
 mined to avail himself. He was aware of the Austrian plan 
 of taking Genoa and entering Provence; and he formed the 
 daring resolution to put himself at the head of the army of re- 
 serve, surmount the line of the Alps, even where they are 
 most difficult of access, and, descending into Italy place himself 
 in the rear of the Austrian army, interrupt their communica- 
 tions, carry off their magazines, parks and hospitals, coop 
 them up betwixt his own army and that of Massena, which 
 was in their front, and compel them to battle, in a situation 
 where defeat must be destruction. But to accomplish this 
 daring movement, it was necessary to march a whole army 
 over the highest chain of mountains in Europe, by roads 
 which afford but a dangerous passage to the solitary traveller, 
 and through passes where one man can do more to defend, than 
 ten to force their way. Artillery was to be carried through 
 sheep-paths and over precipices impracticable to wheel car- 
 riages; ammunition and baggage were to be transported at 
 the same disadvantages; and provisions were to be conveyed 
 through a country poor in itself, and inhabited by a nation 
 which had every cause to be hostile to France, and therefore 
 might be expected prompt to avail themselves of any oppor- 
 tunity which should occur of revenging themselves for her 
 late aggressions. 
 
 On the 6th of May 1800, seeking to renew the fortunes of 
 France, now united with his own, the Chief Consul left Pa 
 
Chap, viii ] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 125 
 
 ris and arrived on the 6th at Geneva. Here he had an inter- 
 view with General Marescot, dispatched to survey Mont St 
 Bernard, and who had, with great difficulty, ascended as far 
 as the convent of the Chartreux. u Is the route practicable?" 
 said Buonaparte, — "it is barely possible to pass," replied the 
 engineer. " Let us set forward then," said Napoleon, and 
 the extraordinary march was commenced. 
 
 On the 13th, arriving at Lausanne, Buonaparte joined the 
 van of his army of reserve, which consisted of six effective 
 regiments, commanded by the celebrated Lasnes. These 
 corps, together with the rest of the troops intended for the 
 expedition, had been assembed from their several positions by 
 forced marches. Carnot, the minister at war, attended the 
 First Consul at Lausanne, to report to him that 15,000, or 
 from that to the number of 20,000 men, detached from Mas- 
 sena's army, were in the act of descending on Italy by St. 
 Gothard. 
 
 During the interval between the 15th and 18th of May, all 
 the columns of the French army were put into motion to 
 cross the Alps. Tureau, at the head of 5000 men, directed 
 his march by Mount Cenis, on Exilles and Susa. A similar 
 division, commanded by Chabran, took the route of the Lit- 
 tle St. Bernard. Buonaparte himself, on the 15th, at the head 
 of the main body of his army, consisting of 30,000 men and 
 upwards, marched from Lausanne to the little village called 
 St. Pierre, at which point there ended every thing resembling 
 a practicable road. An immense and apparently inaccessible 
 mountain, reared its head among general desolation and eter- 
 nal frost; while precipices, glaciers, ravines and a boundless 
 extent of faithless snows, which the slightest concussion of 
 the air converts into avalanches capable of burying armies in 
 their descent, appeared to forbid access to all living things but 
 the chamois, and his scarce less wild pursuer. Yet foot by 
 foot, and man by man, did the French soldiers proceed to as- 
 cend this formidable barrier, which Nature had erected in 
 vain to limit human ambition. The view of the valley, em- 
 phatically called u of Desolation," where nothing is to be seen 
 but snow and sky, had no terrors for Buonaparte and his ar- 
 my. They advanced up paths hitherto only practised by hun- 
 ters, or here and there a hardy pedestrian, the infantry loaded 
 with their arms and in full military equipment, the cavalry 
 leading their horses. The musical bands played from time to 
 time at the head of the regiments, and, in places of unusual 
 difficulty, the drums beat a charge, as if to encourage the 
 
126 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. tiii. 
 
 soldiers to encounter the opposition of Nature herself. The 
 artillery, without which they could not have done service, 
 were deposited in trunks of trees hollowed out for the purpose. 
 Each was dragged by a hundred men, and the troops, making 
 it a point of honor to bring forward their guns, accomplished 
 this severe duty, not with cheerfulness only, but with enthusi- 
 asm. The carriages were taken to pieces and harnessed on 
 the backs of mules, or committied to the soldiers, who reliev- 
 ed each other in the task of bearing them with levers; and 
 the ammunition was transported in the same manner. VVhile 
 one half of the soldiers were thus engaged, the otheVs were 
 obliged to carry the muskets, cartridge-boxes, knapsacks and 
 provisions of their comrades, as well as their own. Each 
 man, so loaded, was calculated to carry from sixty to seventy 
 pounds weight, up icy precipices, where a man totally without 
 encumbrance could ascend but slowly. Probably no troops 
 save the French could have endured the fatigue of such a 
 march; and no other general than Buonaparte would have 
 ventured to require it of them. 
 
 He set out a considerable time after the march begun, 
 alone, excepting his guide. He is described by the Swiss 
 peasant who attended him in that capacity as wearing his usual 
 simple dress, a grey surtout and a three-cornered hat. He 
 travelled in silence, save a few short and hasty questions about 
 the country, addressed to his guide from time to time. When 
 those were answered, he relapsed into silence. There was a 
 gloom on his brow, corresponding with the weather, which was 
 wet and dismal. His countenance had acquired, during his 
 Eastern campaigns, a swart complexion, which added to his 
 natural severe gravity, and the Swiss peasant who guided 
 him felt fear as he looked on him. 
 
 Occasionally his route was stopt by some temporary obsta- 
 cle occasioned by a halt in the artillery or baggage; his com- 
 mands on such occasions were peremptorily given, and in- 
 stantly obeyed, his very look seeming enough to silence all 
 objections and remove every difficulty. 
 
 The army now arrived at that singular convent, where, with 
 courage equal to their own, but flowing from a much higher 
 source, the monks of St. Bernard have fixed their dwellings 
 among the everlasting snows, that they may afford succour 
 and hospitality to the forlorn travellers in these dreadful 
 wastes. Hitherto the soldiers had had no refreshment, save 
 when they dipt a morsel of bread amongst the snow. The 
 good fathers of the convent, who possess considerable maga- 
 
'% 
 

Chap, viii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 129 
 
 zines of provisions, distributed bread and cheese, and a cup 
 of wine, to each soldier as he passed, which was more accepta- 
 ble in their situation, than, according to one who shared their 
 fatigues, would have been the gold of Mexico. 
 
 The descent on the other side of Mont St. Bernard was as 
 difficult to the infantry as the ascent had been, and still more 
 so to the cavalry. It was, however, accomplished without any 
 material loss, and the army took up their quarters for the 
 night, after having marched fourteen French leagues. The 
 next morning, 16th of May, the van-guard took possession of 
 Aosta, a village of Piedmont, from which extends the valley 
 of the same name, watered by the river Dorea, a country 
 pleasant in itself, but rendered delightful by its contrast with 
 the horrors which had been left behind. 
 
 Thus was achieved the celebrated passage of Mont St. Ber- 
 nard, on the particulars of which we have dwelt the more wil- 
 lingly, because, although a military operation of importance, 
 they do not involve the unwearied detail of human slaughter, 
 to which our narrative must now return. 
 
 When the opposition of Nature to Buonaparte's march ap- 
 peared to cease, that of man commenced. A body of Aus- 
 trians at Chatillon were overpowered and defeated by Lasnes; 
 but the strong fortress of Bard offered more serious opposi- 
 tion. This little citadel is situated upon an almost perpendicu- 
 lar rock rising out of the river .Dorea, at a place where the 
 valley of Aosta is rendered so very narrow by the approach of 
 two mountains to each other, that the fort and walled town of 
 Bard entirely close up the entrance. This formidable obsta- 
 cle threatened for the moment to shut up the French in a val- 
 ley, where their means of subsistence must have been speedi- 
 ly exhausted. General Lasnes made a desperate effort to car- 
 ry the fort by assault; but the advanced guard of the attack- 
 ing party were destroyed by stones, musketry and hand-gren- 
 ades, and the attempt was relinquished. 
 
 Buonaparte in person went now to reconnoitre, and for that 
 purpose ascended a huge rock called Albaredo, being a pre- 
 cipice on the side of one of the mountains which form the 
 pass, from the summit of which he could look down into the 
 town, and into the fortress. He detected a possibility of tak- 
 ing the town by storm, though he judged the fort too strong 
 to be obtained by a coup-de-main. The town was according- 
 ly carried by escalade; but the French who obtained posses- 
 sion of it had little cover from the artillery of the fort, which 
 fired furiously on the houses where they endeavored to shel- 
 
130 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. viii. 
 
 ter themselves, and which the Austrians might have entirely- 
 demolished but for respect to the inhabitants, Meanwhile, 
 Buonaparte availed himself of the diversion to convey a great 
 part of his army in single files, horse as well as foot, by a pre- 
 carious path formed by the pioneers over the tremendous Al- 
 baredo, and so down on the other side, in this manner avoid- 
 ing the cannon of Fort Bard. 
 
 Still a most important difficulty remained. It was impossi- 
 ble, at least without great loss of time, to carry the French 
 artillery over the Albaredo, while, without artillery it was im- 
 possible to move against the Austrians, and every hope of the 
 campaign must be given up. 
 
 In the meantime, the astonished commandant of the fort, to 
 whom the apparition of this immense army was like enchant- 
 ment, despatched messenger after messenger to warn the 
 Austrian general, Melas, then lying before Genoa, that a 
 French army of 30,000 men and upwards, descending from 
 the Alps by ways hitherto deemed impracticable for military 
 movements, had occupied the valley of Aosta, and were en- 
 deavoring to debouche by a path of steps cut in the Albaredo. 
 But he pledged himself to his commander-in-chief, that not a 
 single gun or ammunition waggon should pass through the 
 town; and as it was impossible to drag thern along the Alba- 
 redo, he concluded, that, being without his artillery, Buona- 
 parte would not venture to descend into the plain. 
 
 But while the commandant of Bard thus argued, he was mis- 
 taken in his premises, though right in his inference. The ar- 
 tillery of the French army had already passed through the 
 town of Bard, and under the guns of the citadel, without be- 
 ing discovered to have done so. This important manoeuvre 
 was accomplished by previously laying the street with dung 
 and earth, over which the pieces of cannon, concealed under 
 straw and branches of trees, were dragged by men in pro- 
 found silence. The garrison, though they did not suspect 
 what was going on, fired nevertheless occasionally upon some 
 vague suspicion, and killed and wounded artillerymen in suffi- 
 cient number, to show that it would have been impossible to 
 pass under a severe and sustained discharge from the ramparts. 
 It seems singular that the commandant had kept up no intelli- 
 gence with the town. Any signal previously agreed upon — a 
 light shown in a window, for example — would have detected 
 such a stratagem. 
 
 A division of conseripts, under General Chabran, was left 
 to reduce Fort Bard, which continued to hold out, until, at 
 
Chap, viii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON 131 
 
 the expense of great labor, batteries were established on the 
 top of the Albaredo, by which it was commanded, and a heavy- 
 gun placed on the steeple of, the church, when it was com- 
 pelled to surrender. It is not fruitless to observe, that the 
 resistance of this small place, which had been overlooked or 
 undervalued in the plan of the campaign, was very near ren- 
 dering the march over Mont St. Bernard worse than useless, 
 and might have occasioned the destruction of all the Chief 
 Consul's army. So little are even the most distinguished 
 generals able to calculate with certainty upon all the chances 
 of war. 
 
 From this dangerous pass, the vanguard of Buonaparte now 
 advanced down to the valley of Ivrea, where Lasnes carried the 
 town by storm, and a second time combated and defeated the 
 Austrian division which had defended it, when reinforced and 
 situated on a strong position at Romano. The roads to Turin 
 and Milan were now alike open to Buonaparte — he had only 
 to decide which he chose to take. Meanwhile he made a 
 halt of four days at Ivrea, to refresh the troops after their fa- 
 tigues, and to prepare them for future enterprises. 
 
 During this space, the other columns of his army were ad- 
 vancing to form a junction with that of the main body, accord- 
 ing to the plan of the campaign. Tureau, who had passed 
 the Alps by the route of Mont Cenis, had taken the forts of 
 Susa and La Brunette. On the other hand, the large corps 
 detached by Carnot from Moreau's army, were advancing by 
 Mont St. Gothard and the Simplon, to support the operations 
 of Buonaparte, of whose army they were to form the left 
 wing. 
 
 The head quarters of Melas had been removed from Turin 
 and fixed at Alexandria, yet he did not, as Buonaparte expect- 
 ed, attempt to move forward on the French position at Stra- 
 della, in order to force his way to Mantua; so that Buona- 
 parte was obliged to advance towards Alexandria, apprehen- 
 sive lest the Austrians should escape from him, and either, by 
 a march to the left flank, move for the Tesino, cross that riv-, 
 er, and, by seizing Milan, open a communication with Austria 
 in that direction; or by marching to the right, and falling 
 back on Genoa, overwhelm Suchet, and take a position, the 
 right of which might be covered by that city, while the sea 
 was open for supplies and provisions, and their flank pro- 
 tected by the British squadron. 
 
 Either of these movements might have been attended with 
 alarming consequences; and Buonaparte, impatient lest his 
 
132 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. viix. 
 
 enemy should give him the slip, advanced his head-quarters 
 on the 12th of June to Voghera, and on the 13th to St. Juli- 
 ano, in the midst of the great plain of Marengo. As he still 
 saw nothing of the enemy, Buonaparte concluded that Melas 
 had actually retreated from Alexandria, having, notwithstand- 
 ing the temptation afforded by the level ground around him, 
 preferred withdrawing, most probably to Genoa, to the hazard 
 of a battle. He was still more confirmed in this belief, when 
 pushing forward as far as the village of Marengo, he found it 
 only occupied by an Austrian rear-guard, which offered no 
 persevering defence against the French, but retreated from 
 the village without much opposition. Buonaparte could no 
 longer doubt that Melas had eluded him, by marching off by 
 one of his flanks, and probably by his right. He gave orders 
 to Dessaix, whom he had entrusted with the command of the 
 reserve, to march towards Rivoltz, with a view to observe the 
 communications with Genoa; and in this manner the reserve 
 was removed half a day's march from the rest of the army, 
 which had like to have produced most sinister effects upon the 
 event of the great battle that followed. 
 
 Contrary to what Buonaparte had anticipated, the Austrian 
 general, finding the First Consul in his front, and knowing 
 that Suchet was in his rear, had adopted, with the consent of 
 a council of war, the resolution of trying the fate of arms in 
 a general battle. It was a bold, but not a rash resolution. — * 
 The Austrians were more numerous than the French in infan- 
 try and artillery; much superior in cavalry, both in point of 
 numbers and discipline; and it has been already said, that 
 the extensive plain of Marengo was favorable for the use of 
 that description of force. Melas, therefore, on the evening of 
 the 13th, concentrated his forces in front of Alexandria, di- 
 vided by the river Bormida from the purposed field of fight; 
 and Buonaparte, undeceived concerning the intentions of his 
 enemy, made with all haste the necessary preparations to re- 
 ceive battle, and failed not to send orders to Dessaix to return 
 as speedily as possible and join the army. This general was 
 so far advanced on his way towards Rivoltz before these coun- 
 ter orders reached him, that his utmost haste only brought 
 him back after the battle had lasted several hours. 
 
 Buonaparte's disposition was as follows: — The village of 
 Marengo was occupied by the divisions of Gardanne and 
 Chambarlhac. Victor, with other two divisions, and com- 
 manding the whole, was prepared to support them. He ex- 
 tended his left as far as Castel Ceriole, a small village which 
 
Chap, vm.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 133 
 
 lies almost parallel with Marengo. Behind this first line was 
 placed a brigade of cavalry, under Kellermann, ready to pro- 
 tect the flanks of the line, or to debouche through the inter- 
 vals, if opportunity served, and attack the enemy. About a 
 thousand yards in the rear of the first line was stationed the 
 second, under Lasnes, supported by Champeaux's brigade of 
 cavalry. At the same distance, in the rear of Lasnes, was 
 placed a strong reserve, or third line, consisting of the division 
 of Carra St. Cyr, and the Consular Guard, at the head of 
 whom was Buonaparte himself. Thus the French were drawn 
 up on this memorable day in three distinct divisions, each 
 composed of a corps d'armee, distant about three quarters of 
 a mile in the rear of each other. 
 
 The force which the French had in the field in the com- 
 mencement of the day, was above twenty thousand men; the 
 reserve, under Dessaix, upon its arrival, might make the 
 whole amount to thirty thousand. The Austrians attacked 
 with nearly forty thousand troops. Both armies were in high 
 spirits, determined to fight, and each confident in their gener- 
 al — the Austrians in the bravery and experience of Mekis, 
 the French in the genius and talents of Buonaparte. The 
 immediate stake was the possession of Italy, but it was im- 
 possible to guess how many yet more important consequences 
 the event of the day might involve. Thus much seemed cer- 
 tain, that the battle must be decisive, and that defeat must 
 prove destruction to the party who should sustain it. Buona- 
 parte, if routed, could hardly have accomplished his retreat 
 upon Milan; and Melas, if defeated, had Suchet in his rear. 
 The fine plain on which the French were drawn up, seemed 
 lists formed by nature for such an encounter, when the fate 
 of kingdoms was at issue. 
 
 The action was commenced about noon, by the Austrian 
 general, Melas, who made a furious attack upon the French 
 right. The vigour of the attack, and the great superiority in 
 numbers of the Imperialists, made an impression that even 
 the immovable firmness of the French could not withstand; 
 the left wing began to give way, and after sustaining with 
 firmness an unequal conflict, nearly two hours, the right and 
 centre followed the example; several corps of infantry retired 
 in disorder; whole platoons of cavalry pushed back, and dis- 
 order and approaching confusion was evident through the 
 whole line. The Austrians, perceiving the advantage, press- 
 ed forward with an impetuosity, which a confident expectation 
 of victory alone could inspire. They expected every moment 
 
134 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Chap. vm. 
 
 the French would be routed, and redoubled their exertion to 
 give a finishing stroke to the action, which they considered 
 no longer doubtful. The Austrian garrison of Tartola, per- 
 ceiving the disorder of the French, sallied out and nearly sur- 
 rounded them on all sides. At this crisis nothing but the as- 
 tonishing genius of Buonaparte, could have saved the French 
 from a total route; undismayed by the impending danger, he 
 advanced in front, passed rapidly from corps to corps, rallying 
 those thrown into disorder, and exhorting and encouraging 
 all. His presence evidently reanimated the troops; and his 
 horse guards leaving his person, took an active part in the 
 bloody contest. Knowing that Dessaix was near by, it was 
 his grand object to prevent a route until he arrived. To se- 
 cure a position more favorable for resisting the overpowering 
 numbers of the enemy, he seized a defile flanked by the vil- 
 lage of Marengo, shut up on one side by a wood, and on the 
 other by lofty and bushy vineyards. Here, from the astonish- 
 ing exertions of Buonaparte, they made a firm stand and 
 fought bayonet to bayonet with the Austrian infantry, whilst 
 exposed at the same time, to a battery of thirty pieces of can- 
 non, which was playing upon them with the most tremendous 
 effect. Every soldier seemed to consider this the defile of 
 Thermopylae, where they were to fight until all were slain; 
 and with a heroism worthy of the Spartan band, they with- 
 stood the tremendous shock of bayonets and artillery, the lat- 
 ter of which not only cut the men in pieces, but likewise the 
 trees, the large branches falling, killed the wounded soldiers 
 who had sought a refuge under them. 
 
 The men were swept away like trees before a tornado, the 
 dead and dying covered almost the whole field and nearly 
 blocked up the defile. At this awful moment, amidst warriors 
 who fell on every side of him, Buonaparte, unmoved, seemed 
 to brave death, and to be near it; the bullets being observed 
 repeatedly to tear up the ground beneath his horse's feet. 
 Alarmed for his safety, the officers around him exhorted him 
 to retire, exclaiming that " if he should be killed, all would be 
 lost." Even Berthier addressed him to this effect. But the 
 hero of Lodi and Areola could not retire from the " field of 
 death," which seemed his peculiar patrimony. Undismayed 
 and unmoved amidst this dreadful tempest, he observed every 
 movement, and gave his orders, with the utmost coolness. 
 
 General Victor exerted himself greatly to defend the village 
 of Marengo, exposed by the retreat of General Gardanne; 
 but the Austrians being reinforced, succeeded in carrying it. 
 
Ghap.vxix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 135 
 
 General Lasnes being obliged to retire, Buonaparte hastening 
 to his division to stop its retreating, exclaimed, "My lads, it is 
 my practice to sleep on the field of battle." He ordered sev- 
 eral movements, to charge the enemy and stop the retreat; 
 but the force opposed to them was so overpowering, that even 
 the presence of the First Consul could not check them; they 
 fell back, but in good order, although exposed to the fire of 
 eighty pieces of cannon. So completely cut to pieces and 
 broken was the French line, that at four o'clock, in an extent 
 of five miles, there did not stand six thousand infantry to their 
 colors, and only six pieces of cannon could be made use of; 
 this fact will not appear incredible, when it is known that ac- 
 tually one third of the army was put hois de combat, and an- 
 other third was employed in removing the sick, wounded and 
 killed, from the field; this painful scene, also employed a large 
 portion of the artillery carriages. Hunger, thirst and fatigue 
 drew many of the officers from the field, and some who thought 
 that the best part of courage was prudence, availing themselves 
 of the confusion which prevailed, absented themselves, at so 
 unseasonable a conjuncture. At this period Dessaix had not 
 arrived, and it seemed impossible that the French could sus- 
 tain themselves much longer. But a mistake of the enemy 
 and the approach of the reinforcements at this period of gloom 
 and despondency, almost instantly changed the aspect of 
 things. 
 
 The Austrian general, Melas, not being able to force the 
 defile, and eager for victory, which he considered as certain, 
 extended his line with a view to surround the French; and 
 their cavalry they had drawn up in the rear, the moment the 
 French gave way, to fall upon their broken ranks and cut 
 them to pieces. But Buonaparte perceiving this change of 
 position, instantly discovered how it might be improved to ad- 
 vantage. 
 
 Just previous to this movement, the divisions of Dessaix 
 and Mounier, so anxiously expected, arrived at full gallop, 
 notwithstanding a forced march of thirty miles. Their ap- 
 pearance inspired the French troops, fatigued and dishearten- 
 ed, with new courage. Availing himself of these two fa- 
 vorable events, th$ weakening of the Austrian line, and the 
 arrival of the reinforcements, Buonaparte with Berthier and 
 the officers of his staff, ran through all the ranks, inspiring 
 the soldiers with confidence, assuring them, reinforced as they 
 were, that one more vigorous effort would decide the fate of 
 the day. Encouraged by the appearance of Dessaix's divis- 
 
136 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. viii. 
 
 ion, many soldiers of different corps who had left the ground, 
 returned to the field of battle. Having thrown the troops in- 
 to a strong column, to break the enemy's line, now weakened 
 from its extension, and raised their ardor and impatience, the 
 signal was given — the terrible pas de charge was heard. — 
 General Dessaix, with his troops, fresh, and thirsting to avenge 
 their slaughtered comrades, which every where covered the 
 plain, threw himself with the utmost impetuosity into the 
 midst of the Austrian battalions, and charging them with the 
 bayonet, broke their line and threw them into disorder; Gen- 
 eral Doudet at the same time charged on the right; all the 
 corps were put in motion at the same instant; their impetuosi- 
 ty was like a torrent swelled by a sudden freshet; they bore 
 down all before them; in a moment the Imperialists were driv- 
 en from the defile ; soon their whole line was broken, and an 
 entire route followed, attended with dreadful slaughter. 
 
 The intrepid Dessaix, in following up the victory, and at 
 the very moment of complete triumph, having cut off the Aus- 
 trian left wing entirely, was mortally wounded by a musket 
 ball in the head. When the sad tidings of the fall of this he- 
 roic warrior, the very model of brave men, after having saved 
 the army and perhaps his country, were received by Buona- 
 parte during the heat of the engagement, which still continu- 
 ed, he exclaimed, "Why have I not time to weep!" The 
 night saved the Austrian army from total destruction. The 
 fruits of the victory, were twelve standards, twenty-six pieces 
 of cannon, 7,000 prisoners; seven generals, four hundred offi- 
 cers and 8,000 men killed and wounded. The French lost 
 General Dessaix and the brother of General Watrin killed, 
 four brigadier generals wounded, nearly 800 killed, more than 
 2,000 wounded and 1,100 prisoners. 
 
 Thus ended this memorable battle, one of the most obsti- 
 nate, persevering and skilful contests, which the history of 
 man affords. 
 
 The darkness of the night deprived both parties of the 
 means of taking care of the wounded, and a great number 
 were left on the field. The morning presented a most heart- 
 rending and horrid scene •• — "More than three thousand," 
 says a French officer, " Frenchmen and, Austrians, heaped 
 upon one another, in the yards, in the granaries, in the sta- 
 bles and out-houses, even to the very cellars and vaults, were 
 uttering the most lamentable cries, blended with the severest 
 curses against the surgeons, there being too few to dress all 
 the wounded at once. Every where I heard the voices of 
 
Chap, viii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 137 
 
 comrades, or of my particular friends, who begged of me 
 something to eat or drink: all that I could do was to fetch 
 them some water! In truth, forgetting my own wants and 
 those of my horse, I staid more than two hours, running back- 
 wards and forwards, performing, by turns, the part of a sur- 
 geon and an hospital attendant. 
 
 Prisoners were brought in from every part, which increas- 
 ed the number of the famished; in short this was a day that 
 appeared of an insupportable length to all of us.'' 
 
 This was one of the most rapid and astonishing campaigns 
 the world has ever witnessed. Buonaparte arrived at St. Ber- 
 nard on the 15th of May, and from thence to the 15th of June, 
 the day the great and decisive battle of Marengo was fought, 
 a period of precisely one month, the power of Austria in Italy 
 was destroyed; her immense armies annihilated or dispersed, 
 and Italy re-conquered. The entire loss of the Imperialists 
 during this short campaign, in killed, wounded and prisoners, 
 including 1500 sick found in the hospitals, was not less than 
 
 SIXTY THOUSAND MEN. 
 
 In consequence of a loss which seemed in the circum- 
 stances altogether irreparable, Melas resolved to save the re- 
 mains of his army, by entering on the 15th of June 1800, in- 
 to a convention, or rather capitulation, by M 7 hich he agreed, 
 on receiving permission to retire behind Mantua, to yield up 
 Genoa, and all the fortified places which the Austrians pos- 
 sessed in Piedmont, Lombardy and the Legations. Buona- 
 parte the more readily granted these terms, that an English 
 army was in the fact of arriving on the coast. His wisdom 
 taught him not to drive a powerful enemy to despair, and to be 
 satisfied with the glory of having regained, in the affairs of Mon- 
 tebetto and of Marengo, almost all the loss sustained by the 
 French in the disastrous campaign of 1799. Enough had 
 been done to show, that, as the fortunes of France appeared 
 to wane and dwindle after Buonaparte's departure, so they 
 revived with even more than their original brilliancy, as soon 
 as this Child of Destiny had returned to preside over them. 
 An armistice was also agreed upon, which it was supposed 
 might afford time for the conclusion of a victorious peace 
 with Austria; and Buonaparte extended this truce to the ar- 
 mies on the Rhine, as well as those in Italy. 
 
 Two days having been spent in the arrangements which the 
 convention with Melas rendered necessary, Buonaparte, on 
 the 17th June, returned to Milan, where he again renewed 
 *he republican constitution, which had been his original gift 
 
138 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. viii. 
 
 to the Cisalpine State. He executed several other acts of 
 authority. Though displeased with Massena for the surren- 
 der of Genoa, he did not the less constitute him commander- 
 in-chief in Italy; and though doubtful of the attachment of 
 Jourdan, who on the 18th Brumaire, seemed ready to espouse 
 the Republican interests, he did not on that account hesitate 
 to name him Minister of the French Republic in Piedmont, 
 which was equivalent to giving him the administration of that 
 province. These conciliatory steps had the effect of making 
 men of the most opposite parties see their own interests in 
 supporting the governmentfpf the First Consul. 
 
 The presence of Napoleon was now eagerly desired at 
 Paris. He set out from Milan on the 24th of June, and in 
 his passage through Lyons, paused to lay the foundation-stone 
 for rebuilding the Place Bellecour; a splendid square, which 
 had been destroyed by the frantic vengeance of the Jacobins 
 when Lyons was retaken by them from the insurgent party of 
 Girondists and Royalists. Finally, the First Consul returned 
 to Paris upon the 2d July. He had left it on the 6th of May; 
 yet in the space of not quite two months, how many hopes 
 had he realized! All that the most sanguine partizans had 
 ventured to anticipate of his success had been exceeded. It 
 seemed that his mere presence in Italy was of itself sufficient 
 at once to obliterate the misfortunes of a disastrous campaign, 
 and restore the fruits of his own brilliant victories, which had 
 been lost during his absence. It appeared as if he was»the 
 sun of France — when he was hid from her, all was gloom — 
 when he appeared, light and serenity were restored. All the 
 inhabitants leaving their occupations, thronged to the Tuil- 
 leries to obtain a glimpse of the wonderful man, who appear- 
 ed with the laurel of victory in one hand, and the olive of 
 peace in the other. Shouts of welcome and congratulation 
 resounded from the gardens, the courts and the quays, by 
 which the palace is surrounded; high and low illuminated 
 their houses; and there were few Frenchmen, perhaps, that 
 were not for the moment partakers of the general joy. 
 
 In one year the wonderful genius of Buonaparte had retriev- 
 ed the affairs of France and restored the glory of the French 
 arms in all quarters; reconquered Italy, and finally obtained 
 peace with all the enemies of the Republic, except Great 
 Britain, who remained aione in the dreadful struggle. 
 
Chap, ix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 139 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Plot to assassinate Napoleon at the Opera House. Another attempt on 
 his life, by means of the Infernal Machine. External Relations of 
 France. Preparations for invading England. Affairs of Egypt resum- 
 ed. Kleber assassinated. British army lands in Egypt. Defeats of 
 the French. Treaty of Peace concluded between Great Britain and 
 France. 
 
 The events subsequent to the revolution of the 18th Bru- 
 maire, seemed to work a miraculous change on the French 
 nation. The superior talents of Buonaparte, with the policy 
 exercised by Talleyrand and Fouche, and the other states- 
 men of ability whom he had called into administration, and 
 who desired at all events to put an end to further revolution- 
 ary movements — but, above all, the victory of Marengo, had 
 at once created and attached to the person of the Chief Con- 
 sul an immense party, which might be said to comprehend all 
 those, who, being neither decided Royalists nor determined 
 Republicans, were indifferent about the form of the govern- 
 ment, so they found ease and protection while living under it. 
 
 But, on the other hand, the heads of the two factions con- 
 tinued to exist; and as the power of the First Consul became 
 at once more absolute and more consolidated, it grew doubly 
 hateful and formidable to them. His political existence was 
 a total obstruction to the system of both parties, and yet one 
 which it was impossible to remove. There was no national 
 council left, in which the authority of Buonaparte could be 
 disputed, or his measures impeached. The strength of his 
 military power bid defiance alike to popular commotions, if 
 the Democrats had yet possessed the means of exerting them, 
 and to the scattered bands of the Royalist insurgents. 
 
 It is no wonder, therefore, that some obscure Jacobins 
 should have early nourished the purpose of assassinating 
 Buonaparte, as the enemy of his country's freedom, and the 
 destroyer of her liberties; but it is singular, that most of the 
 conspirators against his person were Italians. Arena, brother 
 of the deputy who was said to have aimed a dagger at Buona- 
 parte in the Council of Five Hundred, was at the head of the 
 conspiracy. He was a Corsican. With him, Ceraschi and 
 Diana, two Italian refugees; a painter, called Topino Le- 
 brun; and two or three enthusiasts, formed a plot for the pur- 
 
140 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, ix ' 
 
 pose of assassinating the Chief Consul at the Opera-house 
 Their intention was detected by the police; Ceraschi and 
 Diana were arrested behind the scenes, armed, it was said, 
 and prepared for the attempt, and Buonaparte was congratu- 
 lated by most of the constituted authorities upon having es- 
 caped a great danger. 
 
 Buonaparte remarked with military indifference, that he 
 had been in no real danger. " The contemptible wretches" 
 he said, " had no power to commit the crime they meditated. 
 Besides the assistance of the whole audience, I had with me 
 a piquet of my brave guard, from whom the wretches could 
 not have borne a look." It is remarkable that neither were 
 the circumstances of the plot made public, nor the conspira- 
 tors punished, till the more memorable attempt on Buonaparte's 
 life by the Royalists. 
 
 A horrible invention, first hatched, it is said, by the Jaco- 
 bins, was adopted by certain Royalists of a low description, 
 of whom the leaders were named Carbon and St. Regent. It 
 was a machine consisting of a barrel of gunpowder, placed 
 on a cart to which it was strongly secured, and charged with 
 grape-shot so disposed around the barrel, as to be dispersed 
 in every direction by the explosion. The fire was to be com- 
 municated by a slow match. It was the purpose of the con- 
 spirators, undeterred by the indiscriminate slaughter which such 
 a discharge must occasion, to place the machine in the street 
 through which the First Consul was to go to the Opera, hav- 
 ing contrived that it should explode exactly as his carriage 
 should pass the spot; and, strange to say, this stratagem, 
 which seemed as uncertain as it was atrocious, was within an 
 hair's breadth of success. 
 
 On the evening ©f the 10th of October 1800, Buonaparte 
 has informed us, that though he himself felt a strong desire 
 to remain at home, his wife and one or two intimate friends 
 insisted that he should go to the Opera. He was slumbering 
 under a canopy when they awaked him. One brought his 
 hat, another his sword. He was in a manner forced into his 
 carriage, where he again slumbered, and was dreaming of the 
 danger which he had escaped in an attempt to pass the river 
 Tagliamento some years before. On a sudden he awoke 
 amidst thunder and flame. 
 
 The cart bearing the engine, which was placed in the street 
 St. Nicaise, intercepted the progress of Buonaparte's coach 
 which passed it with some difficulty. St. Regent had fired 
 the match at the appointed instant; but the coachman, who 
 
Chap, ix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 141 
 
 chanced to be somewhat intoxicated, driving unusually fast* 
 the carriage had passed the machine two seconds before the 
 explosion took place; and that almost imperceptible fraction 
 of time was enough to save the life which was aimed at. — 
 The explosion was terrible. Two or three houses were great- 
 ly damaged, twenty persons killed, and about fifty-three wound- 
 ed; among the latter was the incendiary St. Regent. The re- 
 port was heard several leagues from Paris. Buonaparte in- 
 stantly exclaimed to Lasnes and Bessieres, who were in the 
 carriage, "We are blown up!" The attendants would have 
 stopped the coach, but with more presence of mind he com- 
 manded them to drive on, and arrived in safety at the Opera; 
 his coachman during the whole time never discovering what 
 had happened } but conceiving the Consul had received a sa- 
 lute of artillery. 
 
 A public officer, escaped from such a peril, became an ob- 
 ject of yet deeper interest than formerly to the citizens in 
 general ; and the reception of Buonaparte at the Opera, and 
 elsewhere, was more enthusiastic than ever. Relief was dis- 
 tributed amongst the wounded, and the relatives of the slain; 
 and every one, shocked with the wild atrocity of such a reck- 
 less plot, became, while they execrated the perpetrators, at- 
 tached in proportion to the object of their cruelty. 
 
 The conspirators were proceeded against with severity. — 
 Chevalier and Veycer, Jacobins, said to have constructed the 
 original model of the infernal machine, were tried before a 
 military commission, condemned to be shot, and suffered death 
 accordingly. 
 
 Arena, Ceraschi, Le Brun and Demerville, were tried be- 
 fore the ordinary court of criminal judicature, and condemned 
 by the voice of a jury; although there was little evidence 
 against them, save that of their accomplice Harel, by whom 
 they had been betrayed. They were also executed. 
 
 At a later period, Carbon and St. Regent, Royalists, the 
 agents in the actual attempt of the 10th of October, were al- 
 so tried, condemned and put to death. Some persons tried 
 for the same offence were acquitted; and justice seems to have 
 been distributed with an impartiality unusual in France since 
 the Revolution. 
 
 The peace of Luneville, had assumed the appearance of 
 universal ascendency, so much had the current of human af- 
 fairs been altered by the talents and fortunes of one man. — 
 Not only was France in secure possession, by the treaty of 
 Luneville, of territories extending to the banks of the Rhine, 
 
142 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. ix. 
 
 but the surrounding nations were, under the plausible names 
 jof protection or alliance, as submissive to her government as if 
 they had made integral parts of her dominions. Holland, 
 Switzerland and Italy, were all in a state of subjection to her 
 will; Spain, like a puppet, moved but at her signal; Austria 
 was broken-spirited and dejected; Prussia stilJ remembered 
 her losses in the first revolutionary war; and Russia, who 
 alone could be considered as unmoved by any fear of France, 
 was yet in a situation to be easily managed, by flattering and 
 cajoling the peculiar temper of the Emperor Paul. 
 
 France at this period was immensely powerful, the general 
 pacification gave the government a vast disposable force and 
 she was greatly strengthened by her allies. Active prepara- 
 tions on a scale of great magnitude were made for invading 
 England. An immense number of troops were collected at 
 Amiens, Bologne and other places, called, i the chosen army.' 
 The building of ships and other operations for a vast arma- 
 ment, went on rapidly, not only on the coasts of France, but 
 of Holland. 
 
 Aided by the Spanish and Dutch, the French government 
 commanded a powerful marine; the combined fleets of France 
 and Spain that lay in the harbor of Brest alone, amounted to 
 fifty -two sail of the line. The whole sea-coast was divided 
 into six maritime prefectures, in each of which a prefect was 
 appointed; and not only ships, but gun-boats, and flat-bottom- 
 boats, were built and equipped, throughout the Dutch and 
 Flemish coast, as well as that of France, and redoubts were 
 erected and furnaces prepared for heating balls in places sup- 
 posed to be most liable to attack by the British. 
 
 In England, great alarm prevailed; corps of volunteers 
 were formed in almost every town and village in the kingdom; 
 the mechanic threw aside his tools and shouldered his musket; 
 military parades and reviews were to be seen in every direc- 
 tion, and the whole country exhibited a warlike appearance. 
 The fleet from the Baltic returned, and their naval force be- 
 came so extensive and formidable as to blockade the whole 
 coast of France. Attempts were made to destroy the French 
 gun-boats; an expedition was fitted out, under the command 
 of Lord Nelson against Dunkirk and Bologne, which sustain- 
 ed a heavy loss and accomplished nothing important. 
 
 We will now return to Egypt. When Buonaparte left there, 
 near the close of the year 1799, he had made overtures for 
 a pacification with the Ottomans, and the negociation being 
 continued by Kleber, who was left in command, a conven- 
 
Chap ix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 143 
 
 tion was concluded in 1800, by which the French were to 
 evacuate Egypt. This was agreed to by Sir Sydney Smith 
 notwithstanding which, Lord Keith, commanding the English 
 fleet in the Mediterranean, received orders from the British 
 ministry, not to ratify the convention, and to capture all 
 French vessels returning to France. In consequence of the 
 treaty, the French had delivered up several posts, and the 
 grand Yizier demanded the surrender of Cairo. This was re- 
 fused by Kleber, on the ground that the English had refused 
 to ratify the convention, which he considered as at an end, 
 and signified his intention of renewing the war. Both par- 
 ties were engaged in preparation until the 20th of March, 
 when a great battle was fought near Heliopolis. In this en- 
 gagement, the French troops, consisting of 15,000 men de- 
 feated 80,000 Mussulmen. The conflict was dreadful, and 
 the slaughter immense; more than 8000 men were killed, be- 
 sides the wounded and prisoners. After this decisive action 
 the negociation was renewed, the British government repre- 
 senting that they were not apprised that the convention had 
 been agreed to by Sir Sydney Smith, when they ordered Ad- 
 miral Keith to disregard it, and professing their willingness to 
 ratify it. While busied in these measures, Kleber was cut 
 short by the blow of an assassin. A fanatic Turk, called 
 Soliman Haleby, a native of Aleppo, imagined he was in- 
 spired by heaven to slay the enemy of the Prophet and the 
 Grand Seignior. He concealed himself in a cistern, and 
 springing out on Kleber when there was only one man in 
 company with him, stabbed him dead. The assassin was 
 justly condemned to die by a military tribunal; but the sen- 
 tence was executed with a barbarity which disgraced those 
 who practised it. Being impaled alive, he survived for four 
 hours in the utmost torture, which he bore with an indiffer- 
 ence which his fanaticism perhaps alone could have be- 
 stowed. 
 
 This was an irreparable misfortune to the French army in 
 Egypt, and perhaps to France. Kleber was the best of the 
 French generals; he possessed a noble and magnanimous 
 soul. His funeral was celebrated by the whole army in con- 
 junction with that of General Dessaix, with great solemnity. 
 It was not a mere formal parade with unmeaning sound of 
 muffled drums, but a gloomy scene of mourning; the deepest 
 grief agitated every heart; as the coffin passed, every soldier 
 felt as though it contained the remains of his own father. 
 
 The death of Kleber placed the army under the command 
 
144 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap ix. 
 
 of Menou, a man of capricious and narrow mind, and though 
 not destitute of Courage and capacity as a soldier, he was en- 
 cntirely unlit for the important and responsible situation in 
 which fortune had placed him. He broke off the negociation, 
 and determined to hold possession of Egypt. Subsequently, 
 he turned Mahometan, married an Egyptian woman, and as- 
 sumed the name of Abdallah I Menou, which he signed to all 
 his official papers. 
 
 The prospect of the evacuation of Egypt by the French, as 
 the result of negociation, having vanished, the British deter- 
 mined to dispossess them of a settlement, not only important in 
 itself, but which opened a way to hostile designs against their 
 East India possessions. Accordingly near the close of the 
 year 1800, an expedition was sent into the Mediterranean, 
 the fleet commanded by Lord Keith, and the army by Sir 
 Ralph Abercrombe. 
 
 The fleet, consisting of about one hundred and seventy 
 sail of all descriptions, moored in the bay of Aboukir on the 
 2d of March 1801, occupying the very ground where Nelson 
 fought the great battle of the Nile. The troops effected a 
 landing, although vigorously opposed by the French. Gen- 
 eral Menou, apprised of the appearance of the British, hast- 
 ened from Cairo, and concentrated hfs whole force at Alexan- 
 dria. On the 21st, at half past three o'clock in the morning, 
 the French commtuced an attack upon the British; a most 
 obstinate conflict en, ued; the combatants on both sides fought 
 with the greatest fu y. Until the appearance of day-light, 
 the French had the advantage, when they were overpowered, 
 repulsed on all sides with great loss, and compelled to retreat. 
 The British general was mortally wounded, and general 
 Hutchinson succeeded to the command. Being unable to re- 
 duce Alexandria, Hutchinson penetrated into the interior, 
 traversed the desert, reached Cairo, and prepared for invest- 
 ing it; but the garrison, sensible of their inability to defend 
 it, capitulated; being permitted to be conveyed to France 
 with all their artillery and baggage; the scientific men were 
 permitted to retain their papers and collections. 
 
 Menou still held out in Alexandria, confidently expecting a 
 reinforcement, which the vigilance of Lord Keith rendered 
 impracticable. On the 15th of August, Hutchinson invested 
 that city on the eastern and western front; while Lord Keith 
 co-operated from the north with his fleet, and on the south 
 side with the gun-boats that were assembled on lake Macetis, 
 so that the town was completely surrounded. General Me- 
 
Chap, ix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 145 
 
 non, perceiving no prospect of succour, and considering fur- 
 ther resistance unavailing, on the 26th offered to capitulate, 
 on the same terms granted to Belliard, at Cairo, which was 
 acceded to. Thus ended the grand expedition to Egypt. — 
 Previous to this, a negociation had heen opened between the 
 two governments. Egypt had interposed the greatest obsta- 
 cle to a pacification, Buonaparte being determined to retain 
 it; but this difficulty became less serious as the prospect of 
 retaining that country became less favorable, and the 2d of 
 October announced the conclusion of a treaty of peace be- 
 tween Great Britain and the French Republic. With such 
 secrecy were the negociations conducted, that the preceding 
 day, this event was not remotely expected. The tidings flew 
 upon the wings of the wind, and excited the most inconceiva- 
 ble transports of joy throughout both countries. 
 
 The period at which we close this chapter was a most im- 
 portant one in Buonaparte's life, and seemed a crisis on which 
 his fate, and that of France, depended. Britain, his most in- 
 veterate and most successful enemy, had seen herself com- 
 pelled by circumstances to resort to the experiment of a 
 doubtful peace, rather than continue a war which seemed to 
 be waged without an object. The severe checks to national 
 prosperity, which arose from the ruined commerce and block- 
 aded ports of France, might now, under the countenance of 
 the First Consul, be exchanged for the wealth that waits upon 
 trade and manufactures. Her navy, of which few vestiges 
 were left save the Brest fleet, might now be recruited, and re- 
 sume by degrees that acquaintance with the ocean from which 
 they had long been debarred. The restored colonies of 
 France might have added to the sources of her national wealth, 
 and she might have possessed — what Buonaparte on a re- 
 markable occasion declared to be the principal objects he de- 
 sired for her — ships, colonies and commerce. 
 
146 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 Iusurrection in St Domingo. Horrible system of warfare between the 
 French and Negroes. Buonaparte proceeds to consolidate his power at 
 home. Consular Guards and Legion of Honor. Renewal of the war 
 with England. Hanover and other places occupied by the French. — 
 Scheme of invading England continued. Napoleon finally abandons 
 the project. 
 
 When the treaty of Amiens appeared to have restored 
 peace to Europe, one of Buonaparte's first enterprises was to 
 attempt the recovery of the French possessions in the large, 
 rich and valuable colony of St. Domingo, the disasters of 
 which island form a terrible episode in the history of the war. 
 The convulsions of the French Revolution had reached St. 
 Domingo, and, catching like fire to combustibles, had bred a 
 violent feud between the white people in the island, and the 
 mulattoes, the latter of whom demanded to be admitted into 
 the privileges and immunities of the former; the newly es- 
 tablished rights of men, as they alleged, having no reference 
 to the distinction of color. While the whites and the people 
 of color were thus engaged in a civil war, the negro slaves, 
 the most oppressed and most numerous class of the popula- 
 tion, arose against both parties, and rendered the whole island 
 one scene of bloodshed and conflagration. The few planters 
 who remained invited the support of the British arms, which 
 easily effected a temporary conquest. But the European sol- 
 diery perished so fast through the influence of the climate, 
 that, in 1798, the English were glad to abandon an island, 
 which had proved the grave of so many of her best and 
 bravest, who had falleii without a wound, and void of re- 
 nown. 
 
 The negroes, left to themselves, divided into different par- 
 ties, who submitted to the authority of chiefs more or less in- 
 dependent of each other, many of whom displayed consider- 
 able talent. Of these the principal leader was Toussaint Le 
 Ouverture, who, after waging war like a savage, appears to 
 have used the power which victory procured him with much 
 political skill. Although himself a negro, he had the sagaci- 
 ty to perceive how important it was for the civilization of his 
 subjects, that they should not be deprived of the opportuni- 
 ties of knowledge, and examples of industry, afforded them 
 by the white people. He, therefore, protected and encour- 
 
 i 
 
Chap, x.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 147 
 
 aged the latter, and established as an equitable regulation, 
 that the blacks, now freemen, should nevertheless continue to 
 labor the plantations of the white colonists, while the produce 
 of the estate should be divided in certain proportions be- 
 tween the white proprietor and the sable cultivator. 
 
 The least transgressions of these regulations he punished 
 with African ferocity. On one occasion, a white female, the 
 owner of a plantation, had been murdered by the negroes by 
 whom it was labored, and who had formerly been her slaves. 
 Toussaint marched to the spot at the head of a party of his 
 horse-guards, collected the negroes belonging to the planta- 
 tion, and surrounded them with his black cavalry, who, after 
 a very brief inquiry, received orders to charge and cut them 
 to pieces; of which order our informant witnessed the execu- 
 tion. His unrelenting rigor, joined to his natural sagacity, 
 soon raised Toussaint to the chief command of the island; 
 and he availed himself of the maritime peace, to consolidate 
 his authority by establishing a constitution on the model most 
 lately approved of in France, which being that of the year 
 Eight, consisted of a consular government. Toussaint failed 
 not, of course, to assume the supreme government to himself, 
 with power to name his successor. 
 
 The constitution of St. Domingo was instantly put in force, 
 although, with an ostensible deference to France, the sanc- 
 tion of her government had been ceremoniously required. It 
 was evident that the African, though not unwilling to acknowl- 
 edge some nominal degree of sovereignty on the part of 
 France, was determined to retain in his own hands the effective 
 government of the colony. But this in no respect consisted 
 with the plans of Buonaparte, who was impatient to restore 
 to France those possessions of which the British naval supe- 
 riority had so long deprived her — colonies, shipping and com- 
 merce 
 
 A powerful expedition was fitted out at the harbors of Brest, 
 L'Orient and Rochefort, destined to restore St. Domingo in 
 full subjection to the French empire. The fleet amounted to 
 thirty-four ships bearing forty guns and Upwards, with more 
 than twenty frigates and smaller armed vessels. They had 
 on board above twenty thousand men, and General Leclerc, 
 the brother-in-law of Buonaparte, was commander-in-chief 
 of the expedition, having a staff composed of officers of 
 acknowledged skill and bravery. 
 
 The armament set sail on the 14th of December 1801, 
 while an English squadron of observation, uncertain of their 
 
148 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, x 
 
 purpose, waited upon and watched their progress to the West 
 Indies. The French fleet presented themselves before Cape 
 Francois, (now Cape Haytien,) on the 29th January 1802. 
 
 Toussaint, summoned to surrender, seemed at first inclined 
 to come to an agreement, terrified probably by the great force 
 of the expedition, which time and the climate could alone af- 
 ford the negroes any chance of resisting. A letter was de- 
 livered to him from Buonaparte, expressing esteem for his 
 person; and General Leclerc offered him the most favorable 
 terms, together with the situation of lieutenant-governor. — 
 Ultimately, however, Toussaint could not make up his mind 
 to trust the French, and he determined upon resistance, which 
 he managed with considerable skill. Nevertheless, the well- 
 concerted military operations of the whites soon overpowered 
 for the present the resistance of Toussaint and his followers. 
 Chief after chief surrendered, and submitted themselves to 
 General Leclerc. At length Toussaint Le Ouverture himself 
 seems to have despaired of being able to make further resist- 
 ance. He made his formal submission, and received and ac- 
 eepted Leclerc's pardon, under the condition that he should 
 retire to a plantation at Genaives, and never leave it without 
 permission of the commander-in-chief. 
 
 The French had not long had possession of the colony, 
 ere they discovered, or supposed they had, symptoms of con- 
 spiracy amongst the negroes, and Toussaint was, on very 
 slight grounds, accused as encouraging a revolt. Under this 
 allegation, the only proof of which was a letter, capable of 
 an innocent interpretation, the unfortunate chief was seized 
 upon, with his family, and put on board of a vessel bound to 
 Fraace. Nothing official was ever learned concerning his 
 fate, further than that he was imprisoned in the castle of Jeux, 
 in Franche Compte, where the unhappy African fell a victim 
 to the severity of an Alpine climate, to which he was unac- 
 customed, and the privations of a close confinement. 
 
 The perfidy with which the French had conducted them- 
 selves towards Toussaint, was visited by early vengeance.— 
 That scourge of Europeans, the yellow fever, broke out 
 among their troops, and in an incredibly short space of time 
 swept off General Leclerc, with many of his best officers 
 and bravest soldiers The'negroes, incensed at the conduct 
 of the governor towards Toussaint, and encouraged by the 
 sickly condition of the French army, rose upon them in every 
 quarter. A species of war ensued, of which we are thank- 
 ful it is not our task to trace the deplorable and ghastly par- 
 
Chap, x.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 149 
 
 ticulars. The cruelty which, was perhaps to be expected in 
 the savage Africans, just broke loose from the bondage. of 
 slavery, communicated itself to the civilized French. If the 
 former tore out their prisoners' eyes with corkscrews, the latter 
 drowned their captives by hundreds, which imitation of Car- 
 rier's republican baptism, they called "deportation into the 
 sea." On other occasions, numerous bodies of negroes were 
 confined in hulks, and there smothered to death with the fumes 
 of lighted sulpher. The issue of this hellish warfare was, 
 that the cruelty of the French enraged instead of terrifying 
 their savage antagonists; and at length, that the numbers of 
 the former, diminished by disease and constant skirmishing, 
 became unequal to the defence even of the garrison towns of 
 the island, much more so to the task of reconquering it.—- 
 General Rochambeau, who succeeded Leclerc as commander- 
 in-chief, was finally obliged to save the wreck of that fine ar- 
 my, by submitting at discretion to an English squadron, 1st 
 December 1803. Thus was the richest colony in the West 
 Indies finally lost to France. Remaining entirely in possession 
 of the black population, St. Domingo will show, in process of 
 time, how far the natives of Africa, having European civiliza- 
 tion within their reach, are capable of forming a state, govern- 
 ed by the usual rules of polity. 
 
 While Buonaparte made these strong efforts for repossess- 
 ing France in this fine colony, it was not to be supposed that 
 he was neglecting the establishment of his own power upon a 
 more firm basis. His present situation was — like every other 
 in life — considerably short of what he could have desired, 
 though so infinitely superior to all that his most unreasonable 
 wishes could at one time have aspired to. He had all the 
 real power of royalty, and, since the settlement of his authori- 
 ty for life, he had daily assumed more of the pomp and cir- 
 cumstance with which sovereignty is usually invested. The 
 Tuilleries were once more surrounded with guards without, 
 and filled by levees within. The ceremonial of a court was 
 revived, and Buonaparte, judging of mankind with accuracy, 
 neglected no minute observance by which the princes of the 
 earth are wont to enforce their authority. Policy seemed to 
 recommend to him, to have recourse to the ancient model, 
 which Europe had been long accustomed to reverence; to 
 adopt the form of government best known and longest estab- 
 lished through the greater part of the world; and assuming 
 the title and rights of a monarch, to take his place among the 
 ancient and recognised authorities of Europe. 
 
150 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. x. 
 
 Before, therefore, he could venture on this bold measure, he 
 endeavored by every means in his power, to strengthen himself 
 in his government. The army was carefully new-modelled, 
 so as to make it as much as possible his own; and the French 
 soldiers, who regarded the power of Buonaparte as the fruit 
 of their own victories, were in general devoted to his cause, 
 notwithstanding the fame of Moreau, to whom a certain part 
 of their number still adhered. The Consular Guard, a highly 
 privileged body of selected forces, was augmented to the num- 
 ber of six thousand men. These formidable legions, which 
 included troops of every species of arms, had been gradually 
 formed and increased upon the plan of the corps of guide, 
 which Buonaparte introduced during the first Italian cam- 
 paigns, for immediate attendance on his person, and for pre- 
 venting such accidents as once or twice had like to have be- 
 fallen him, by unexpected encounters with flying parties of 
 the enemy. But the guards, as now increased in numbers, 
 had a duty much more extended. They were chosen men, 
 taught to consider themselves as superior to the rest of the 
 army, and enjoying advantages in pay and privileges. When 
 the other troops were subject to privations, care was taken 
 that the guards should experience as little of them as possi- 
 ble, and that by every possible exertion they should be kept 
 in the highest degree of readiness for action. They were on- 
 ly employed upon service of the utmost importance, and sel- 
 dom in the beginning of an engagement, when they remained 
 in reserve under the eye of Buonaparte himself. It was usu- 
 ally by means of his guard that the final and decisive exer- 
 tion was made which marked Buonaparte's tactics, and so o£ 
 ten achieved victory at the very crisis when it seemed inclin- 
 ing to the enemy. Regarding themselves as considerably su- 
 perior to the other soldiers, and accustomed also to be under 
 Napoleon's immediate command, his guards were devotedly 
 attached to him; and a body of troops of such high character 
 might be considered a formidable bulwark around the throne 
 which he meditated ascending. 
 
 The attachment of these chosen legions, and of his soldiers 
 in general, formed the foundation of Buonaparte's power, but 
 he surrounded himself by another species of partisans. The 
 Leo-ion of Honor was destined to form a distinct and particular 
 class of privileged individuals, whom, by honors and bounties 
 bestowed on them, he resolved to bind to his own interest. 
 
 This institution, which attained considerable political im- 
 portance, originated in the custom which Buonaparte had 
 
Chap, x.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 151 
 
 early introduced, of conferring on soldiers, of whatever rank, 
 a sword, fusee, or other military weapons, in the name of the 
 state, as acknowledging and commemorating some act of pe- 
 culiar gallantry. The influence of such public rewards was 
 of course very great. They encouraged those who had re- 
 ceived them to make every effort to preserve the character 
 which they had thus gained, while they awakened the emula- 
 tion of hundreds and thousands who desired similar marks of 
 distinction. Buonaparte now formed the project of embody- 
 ing the persons who had merited such rewards into an associa- 
 tion, similar in many respects to those orders, or brotherhoods 
 of chivalry, with whi?h, during the middle ages, the feudal 
 sovereignty of Europe surrounded themselves, and which sub- 
 sist to this day, though in a changed and modified form. — 
 These, however, have been uniformly created on the feudal 
 principles, and the honor they confer limited, or supposed to 
 be limited, to persons of some rank and condition; but the 
 scheme of Buonaparte was to extend this species of honora- 
 ble distinction through all ranks, in the quality proper to 
 each. They were to swear upon their honor to defend the 
 government of France, and maintain the inviolability of her 
 empire; to combat, by every lawful means, against the re-estab- 
 lishment of the feudal institution; and to concur in maintain- 
 ing the principles of liberty and equality. 
 
 The bloody war which succeeded the short peace of Amiens, 
 originated, to use the words of the satirist, in high words, jeal- 
 ousies and fears. There was no special or determinate cause 
 of quarrel, which could be removed by explanation, apology 
 or concession. When, therefore, the two nations again arose 
 to the contest, it was like combatants whose anger against 
 each other has been previously raised to the highest pitch by 
 mutual invective. Each had recourse to the measures by 
 which their enemy could be most prejudiced. 
 
 England had at her command the large means of annoy- 
 ance arising out of her immense naval superiority, and took 
 her measures with the decision which the emergency required. 
 Instant orders were despatched to prevent the cession of such 
 colonies as yet remained to be given up, according to the 
 treaty of Amiens, and to seize by a coup-de-main, such of 
 the French settlements as had been ceded, or were yet occu- 
 pied by her. France, on the other hand, in consequence of 
 her equally great superiority by land, assembled upon her ex- 
 tensive line of sea-coast a very numerous army, with which 
 she appeared disposed to make good her ruler's threats of in- 
 
152 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. x. 
 
 vasion. At the same time, Buonaparte occupied without cere- 
 mony the territories of Naples, Holland and such other states 
 as Britain must have seen in her hands with feelings of keen 
 apprehension. 
 
 Every thing in Germany being favorable to the views of 
 France, Mortier, who had- already assembled an army in Hol- 
 land, and on the frontiers of Germany, moved forward on Hano- 
 ver. A considerable force was collected for resistance, under 
 his Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, and General 
 Walmoden. It soon appeared, however, that left to their own 
 resources, and absolutely unsupported either by England or 
 the forces of the Empire, the Electorate was incapable of 
 resistance; and that any attempt at an ineffectual defence 
 would only serve to aggravate the distresses of the country, 
 by subjecting the inhabitants to the extremities of war. In 
 compassion, therefore, to the Hanoverians, the Duke of Cam- 
 bridge was induced to leave the hereditary dominions of his 
 father's house; and General Walmoden had the mortification 
 to find himself obliged to enter into a convention, by which 
 the capital of the Electorate, and all its strong-holds, were to 
 be delivered up to the French, and the Hanoverian army were 
 to retire behind the Elbe, on condition not to serve against 
 France and her allies till previously exchanged. 
 
 The British government having refused to ratify this con- 
 vention of Suhlingen, as it was termed, the Hanoverian army 
 
 were summoned to surrender as prisoners of war; hard 
 
 terms, which, upon the determined resistance of Walmoden 
 were only thus far softened, that these tried and faithful troops 
 were to be disbanded, and deliver up their arms, artillery, 
 horses and military stores. In a letter to the First Consul' 
 Mortier declares that he granted these mitigated terms from 
 respect to the misfortunes of a brave enemy; and mentions 
 in a tone of creditable feeling, the distress of General Wal- 
 moden, and the despair of the fine regiment of Hanoverian 
 guards, when dismounting from their horses to surrender them 
 up to the French. 
 
 At the same time that they occupied Hanover, the French 
 failed not to make a further use of their invasion of Ger- 
 many, by laying forced loans on the Hanseatic towns, and 
 other encroachments. 
 
 Napoleon did not confine himself to the occupation of Hano- 
 ver. Tarentum, and other sea-ports of the King of Naples'* 
 dominions, was seized upon under the pretext of their beintr 
 a pledge for the restoration of Malta. In fact, by thus quar° 
 
Chap, x.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON,, 153 
 
 tering his troops upon neutral territories, by whom he took 
 care that they should be paid and clothed, Buonaparte made 
 the war support itself, and spared France the burthen of main- 
 taining a great proportion of his immense armv; while large 
 exactions, not only on the commercial towns, but on Spain, 
 Portugal and Naples, and other neutral countries, in the name 
 of loans, filled his treasury, and enabled him to carry on the 
 expensive plans which he meditated. 
 
 Any one of the manoeuvres which we have mentioned, 
 would, before this eventful war, have been considered as a 
 sufficient object for a long campaign. But the whole united 
 was regarded by Buonaparte only as side-blows, affecting 
 Britain indirectly through the occupation of her monarch's 
 family dominions and the embarrassment offered to her com- 
 merce. His great and decisive game remained to be played 
 —that scheme of invading England, to which he had so 
 strongly pledged himself in a dialogue with Lord Whitwcrth. 
 He now, however, at length bent himself, with the whole 
 strength of his mind, and the whole force of his empire, to 
 prepare for this final and decisive undertaking. The gun- 
 boats in the Bay of Gibralter, where calms are frequent, had 
 sometimes in the course of the former war been able to do 
 considerable damage to the English vessels of war, when they 
 could not use their sails. Such small craft, therefore, was 
 supposed the proper force for covering the intended descent. 
 They were built in different harbors, and brought together by 
 crawling along the French shore, and keeping under the pro- 
 tection of the batteries, which were now established on every 
 cape, almost as if the'sea-coast of the Channel on the French 
 side had been the lines of a besieged cifv, no one point of 
 which could with prudence be left undefended by cannon.— 
 Boulogne was pitched upon as the centre port, from which 
 the expedition was to sail. By incredible exertions, Buona- 
 parte had rendered its harbor and roads capable of containing 
 two thousand vessels of various descriptions. The smaller 
 sea-ports of Vimereux, Ambleteuse, Etaples, Dieppe, Havre, 
 St. Valeri, Caen, Gravelines and Dunkirk, were likewise filled 
 with shipping. Flushing and Ostend were occupied by a sepa- 
 rate flotilla. Brest, Toulon and Rochefort, were each the sta- 
 tion of as strong a naval squadron as France had still the 
 means to send to sea. 
 
 A land army was assembled of the most formidable descrip- 
 tion, whether we regard the high military character of the 
 troops, the extent and perfection of their appointments, or 
 
 7* 
 
154 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. x. 
 
 their numerical strength. The coast from the mouth of the 
 Seine to that of the Texel, was covered with forces, and Soult, 
 Ney Davoust and Victor, names that were then the pride 
 and the dread of war, were appointed to command the Army 
 of England, and execute those manoeuvres, planned and su- 
 perintended by Buonaparte, the issue of which was to be the 
 blotting out of Britain from the rank of independent nations. 
 England prepared for resistance with an energy becoming 
 her ancient rank in Europe, and far surpassing in its efforts 
 any'extent of military preparation before heard of in her his- 
 tory. To nearly one hundred thousand troops of the line 
 were added eighty thousand and upwards of militia, which 
 scarce yielded to the regulars in point of discipline. The 
 volunteer force, by which every citizen was permitted and in- 
 vited to add his efforts to the defence of the country, was far 
 more numerous than during the last war, was better officered 
 also, and rendered every way more effective. It was comput- 
 ed to amount to three hundred and fifty thousand men, who, 
 if we regard the shortness of the time and the nature of the 
 service, had attained considerable practice in the use and 
 management of their arms. Other classes of men were em- 
 bodied, and destined to act as pioneers, drivers of waggons, 
 and in the like services. On a sudden, the land seemed con- 
 verted to an immense camp, the whole nation into soldiers and 
 the old king himself into a General-in-Chief. 
 
 Amidst her preparations by land, England did not neglect 
 or relax her precautions on the element she called her own. 
 She covered the ocean with five hundred and seventy ships of 
 war of various descriptions. Divisions of her fleet blocked 
 up every French port in the channel; and the army destined 
 to invade her shores, might see the British flag flying m eve- 
 ry direction on the horizon. During this period Buonaparte 
 visited Boulogne, and seemed active in preparing his soldiers 
 for the grand effort. He reviewed them in an unusual man- 
 ner teaching them to execute several manoeuvres by night; 
 and experiments were also made upon the best mode of ar- 
 ranging the soldiers in the flat-bottomed boats, and of embark- 
 ing and disembarking them with celerity. 
 
 A circumstance which seemed to render the expedition m a 
 great measure hopeless, was the ease with which the English 
 could maintain a constant watch upon their operations within 
 the port of Boulogne. The least appearance of stir or pre- 
 paration to embark troops or get ready for sea, was promptly 
 sent by signal to the English coast, and the numerous British 
 
Chap.'xi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 155 
 
 cruisers were instantly on the alert to attend their motions. — 
 The undertaking was finally abandoned; but Napoleon him- 
 self continued to affirm that he was serious in the attempt, 
 and that the scheme was practicable, by assembling such a 
 fleet as would have given him the temporary command of the 
 Channel. 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 Conspiracy against Napoleon. General Moreau sent into exile. Buona- 
 parte crowned Emperor of the French. Crowned King of Italy. — 
 Genoa united to the Empire 
 
 In February, 1803, the Paris papers announced the discov- 
 ery of a conspiracy of the most extensive and complicated 
 nature. It was said that one hundred and fifty men, who 
 were to assume the uniform of the consular guards, were to 
 assemble and seize Buonaparte at Malmaison, where he was 
 expected to be hunting, or wherever else he might be found, 
 and carry him off. One of the conspirators disclosed the 
 plot, and the sign of the conspirators, which was an En- 
 glish piece of gold. According to the information given, 
 the police officers repaired to tne mistress of an inn, and or- 
 dering her to draw off her glove, discovered a similar piece of 
 English gold, and opening a draw they found a letter direct- 
 ing her to carry on a specified day to a certain house, twenty 
 bottles of wine and to ring a certain number of times at the 
 door. The officers went to the house, and having rang as 
 specified, they discovered a number of persons who defend- 
 ed themselves in a desperate manner. Among those arrested 
 were Mairn, an intimate of Georges, the Vendean royalist, 
 and one Victor, the cook of Georges, who had been in a for- 
 mer plot. General Moreau was charged with being in the 
 plot and arrested. 
 
 The subject was laid before the legislative authorities, 
 which appointed Regnier grand judge, who, in his report stat- 
 ed, that a band of assassins, headed by Georges, and in the 
 pay of England, were still dispersed in La Vendee, and that 
 papers were found which criminated Moreau and Pichegru. — 
 
156 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.m. 
 
 When this report was read in the tribune, General Moreau's 
 brother made an energetic and indignant speech, declaring 
 the whole an infamous calumny, and demanding that his 
 brother might be instantly brought to trial. 
 
 The senate transmitted an address to Buonaparte, congratu- 
 lating him on his escape from so deep a plot. In his answer 
 he has the following remarkable sentence, which may be con- 
 sidered as prophetic: " I have long since renounced the hope 
 of enjoying the pleasures of private life; all my days are em- 
 ployed in fulfilling the duties which my fate, and the will of 
 the French people have imposed on me. Heaven will watch 
 over France, and defeat the plots of the wicked. The citi- 
 zens may be without alarm; my life will last as long as it will 
 be useful to the nation; but I wish the French people to un- 
 derstand that existence, without their confidence and affec- 
 tion, would be to me without consolation, and would, for them, 
 have no object." 
 
 In March, Buonaparte receiving information that a number 
 of hostile emigrants said to be in the pay of England, were 
 at Ettingheim within the Electorate of Baden, he dispatched 
 Caulincourt, his aid-de-camp, who succeeded in arresting fif- 
 teen of them, of whom, the duke d'Enghien, one of the royal 
 family of France, was one. The royal prisoner was conduct- 
 ed to Paris by an escort of fifty gens d'arms, where he was 
 tried by a military commission, condemned and shot. Gen- 
 eral Moreau was declared guilty, but not io the extent of a 
 capital crime. He was subjected to imprisonment for two 
 yeras; but the soldiers continuing to interest themselves in 
 his fate, his doom of imprisonment was exchanged for that of 
 exile. 
 
 On the 18th of May, 1804, Napoleon Buonaparte was pro- 
 claimed Emperor of the French; a motion to this purpose 
 having been previously brought forward, was passed by the 
 Tribune and Senate. — Measures were taken to obtain the 
 opinion of the people on this radical change of their system; 
 and the number of votes collected in the departments amount- 
 ed to upwards of three million five hundred thousand, of 
 whom only about three thousand five hundred declared against 
 the proposition. This was declared " the unbiassed expres- 
 sion of the people's choice, — no government could plead a 
 more authentic title." 
 
 The Emperor accompained by his Empress, who bore 
 her honors both gracefully and meekly, visited Aix-la-Cha- 
 pelle, and the frontiers of Germany. They received the con- 
 
Chap, xi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON, 157 
 
 gratulalions of all the powers of Europe, excepting England, 
 Russia and Sweden, upon their new exaltation; and the Ger- 
 man princes, who had every thing to hope and fear from so 
 powerful a neighbor, hastened to pay their compliments to 
 Buonaparte in person, which more distant sovereigns offered 
 by their ambassadors. 
 
 But the most splendid and public recognition of his new 
 rank was yet to be made, by the formal act of coronation, 
 which, therefore, Buonaparte determined should take place 
 with circumstances of solemnity which had been beyond the 
 reach of any temporal prince, however powerful, for many 
 ages. Pope Leo, he remembered, had placed a golden crown 
 on the head of Charlemagne, and proclaimed him Emperor of 
 the Romans. Pius VII, he determined, should do the same 
 for a successor to much more than the actual power of Char-** 
 lesnagnc. But though Charlemagne had repaired to Rome to 
 receive inauguration from the hands of the Pontiff of that 
 day, Buonaparte resolved that he who now owned the proud, 
 and in Protestant eyes, profane, title of Vicar of Christ, should 
 travel to France to perform the coronation of the successful 
 chief, by whom the See of Rome had been more than once 
 humbled, pillaged and impoverished, but by whom also her 
 power had been re-erected and restored, not only in Italy but 
 in France itself. 
 
 On the 2d December, the ceremony of the coronation took 
 place in the ancient cathedral of Notre Dame, with the addir 
 tion of every ceremony which could be devised, to add to its 
 solemnity. The Emperor took his coronation oath as usual 
 on such occasions, with his hands upon the Scripture, and 
 in the form repeated to him by the Pope. But in the act of 
 coronation itself, there was a marked deviation from the uni- 
 versal custom, characteristic of the man, the age and the con- 
 juncture. In all other similar solemnities, the crown had 
 been placed on the sovereign's head by the presiding spiritual 
 person, as representing the Deity, by whom princes rule. — - 
 But not even from the head of the Catholic Church would 
 Buonaparte consent to receive as a boon the golden symbol 
 of sovereignty, which he was sensible he owed solely to his 
 own unparalleled train of military and civil successes. The 
 crown having been blessed by the Pope, Napoleon took it 
 from the altar with his own hands, and placed it on his brows. 
 He then put the diadem on the head of his Empress, as if to 
 show that his authority was the child of his own actions. Te 
 Deum was sung; the heralds proclaimed, "that the thrice 
 
158 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xv 
 
 glorious and thrice august Napoleon, Emperor of the French, 
 was crowned and installed." The members of the Imperial 
 Family were declared Princes of the Blood. His late col- 
 leagues in the Consulate, Cambaceres and Le Brun, were 
 nominated, the former Arch-chancellor, and the latter Arch- 
 treasurer of the empire. Seventeen generals (viz: Berthier, 
 Murat, Moncey, Jourdan, Massena, Augereau, Bernadotte, 
 Soult, Brune, Lasnes, Mortier, Ney, Davoust, Bessieres, Kel- 
 lermann, Lefebvre, Perrignon and Serrurier,) were named 
 Marshals of the empire. Duroc, Grand Marsnal of the pal- 
 ace; Caulincourt, master of the horse; Berthier, grand hunts- 
 man; and Count Segur, a nobleman of the ancient regime, 
 master of the ceremonies. 
 
 A deputation from the Italian Republic, appeared at Paris, 
 to declare the absolute necessity which they felt, tjiat their 
 government should assume a monarchical and hereditary form. 
 On the 17th March, they obtained an audience of the Emper- 
 or, to whom they intimated the unanimous desire of their 
 countrymen, that Napoleon, founder of the Italian Republic, 
 should be monarch of the Italian kingdom. He was to have 
 power to name his successor, such being always a native of 
 France or Italy. 
 
 Upon the 11th of April 1805, Buonaparte with his Em- 
 press, set off to go through the form of coronation, as King 
 of Italy. The ceremony almost exactly resembled that by 
 which he had been inaugurated Emperor. The ministry of 
 the Arch-bishop of Milan was held sufficient for the occasion, 
 and it was he who blessed the celebrated iron crown, said to 
 have girded the brows of the ancient Kings of the Lom- 
 bards. Buonaparte, as in the ceremony at Paris, placed the 
 ancient emblem on his head with his own hands, assuming and 
 repeating aloud the motto attached to it by its ancient owners, 
 " God has given it to me; let him beware who would touch 
 it." The new kingdom was, in all respects, modelled on the 
 same plan with the French empire. An order, called " of 
 the Iron Crown," was established on the footing of that of 
 the Legion of Honor. A large French force was taken into 
 Italian pay, and Eugene Beauharnois, the son of Josephine 
 by her former marriage, who enjoyed and merited the confi- 
 dence of his father-in-l.aw, was created viceroy, and appoint- 
 ed to represent, in that character, the dignity of Napoleon 
 
 Napoleon did not leave Italy without further extension of 
 his empire. Genoa, once the proud and the powerful, resign- 
 ed her independence, and her Doge presented to the Emperor 
 
Chap, xii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 159 
 
 a request that the Ligurian Republic, laying down her sepa- 
 rate rights, should be considered in future as a part of the 
 French nation. 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Napoleon addresses a letter to the King of England. Alliance of Russia, 
 Austria, England and Sweden against France. Buonaparte heads the 
 army in Germany. Skilful manoeuvres of the French generals and suc- 
 cessive losses of the Austrians. Neutrality of Prussia violated. Mack 
 is cooped up in Ulm. Surrenders to the French on the 16th of Octo- 
 ber, by which 20,000 men become prisoners of war. Buonaparte ad- 
 vances towards Vienna. The Emperor Francis leaves his capital, and 
 the French take possession of it. Successes of Massena in Italy and 
 Ney in the Tyrol. Battle of Austerlitz, and the combined ar- 
 mies of Austria and Russia completely defeated. Treaty of Presburg. 
 
 On the 21st of January, 1805, Napoleon, in his new 
 character of Emperor, addressed a letter to King George III. 
 in person, on the subject of a lasting peace between the two 
 countries. This letter was answered by the British secretary 
 of state to Talleyrand, and declared that Britain would not 
 make a precise reply to the proposal of peace intimated in 
 Napoleon's letter, until she had communicated with her allies 
 on the continent, and in particular with the Emperor of 
 Russia. 
 
 These expressions indicated, what was already well known 
 to Buonaparte, the darkening of another continental storm, 
 about to be directed against his power On this occasion, 
 Russia was the soul of the confederacy. Since the death of 
 the unfortunate Paul had placed that mighty country under 
 the government of Alexander, whose education had been 
 sedulously cultivated, and who had profited in an eminent de- 
 gree by that advantage, her counsels had been dignified, wise 
 and moderate. About a fortnight before Napoleon wrote to 
 the king of England, a strict alliance had been signed be- 
 tween the sovereigns of Russia and Sweden, and it was now 
 obvious that the northern powers had resolved to take part 
 
160 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xii. 
 
 with Great Britain in her struggle against France. Russia 
 and England had engaged in an alliance, the general purpose 
 of which was to form a league upon the continent, to compel 
 the French government to consent to the re-establishment of 
 the balance of Europe. The objects proposed were briefly 
 the independence of Holland and Switzerland; the evacua- 
 tion of Hanover and the north of Germany by the French 
 troops; the restoration of Piedmont to the King of Sardinia; 
 and the complete evacuation of Italy by the French. These 
 were gigantic schemes, for which suitable efforts were to be 
 made. Five hundred thousand men were to be employed; 
 and Britain, besides affording the assistance of her forces by 
 sea and land, was to pay large subsidies for supporting the ar- 
 mies of the coalition. 
 
 During several months every means was adopted to procure 
 the association of Austria and Prussia; but the latter of these 
 sovereigns had a strong French party in his council, and 
 though personally hostile to Napoleon, could not as yet count 
 on being supported in a war against France by the hearty 
 good-will of an undivided people. Austria had been grievous- 
 ly weakened by the campaign of Marengo, and hesitated to 
 commit herself once more to the hazard of arms. The Em- 
 peror Alexander repaired in person to Berlin for the purpose 
 of stimulating the King of Prussia. The two sovereigns met 
 in the vault where the great Frederick lies buried, and swore 
 solemnly over his remains to effect the liberation of Germany. 
 But though thus pledged to the czar, the King of Prussia did 
 not hastily rush into hostilities. He did not even follow the 
 example of the Austrian, whose forbearance was at length 
 wholly exhausted by the news of the coronation at Milan, and 
 the annexation of Genoa to the empire of France. Warlike 
 preparations were commenced immediately, and she increased 
 her forces in every quarter. The Arch-duke Charles took 
 the command of 80,000 men in Italy; 80,000 more, destined 
 to act upon the Lech, and it was hoped upon the Rhine, were 
 placed under the charge of GeneralMack; and the Arch-duke 
 John was appointed to command in the Tyrol. Austria be- 
 gan her daring enterprise rashly and precipitately, without* 
 waiting till the Emperor Alexander, at the head of an army of 
 100,000 men could advance to his assistance, or until the King 
 of Prussia could be induced to join the coalition. A large 
 army of Austrians were marched upon Bavaria, and the Elec- 
 tor was required to join the confederacy. Maximilian was not 
 disinclined to unite his forces with those which proposed for. 
 
Chap, xii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 161 
 
 their object the defence of Germany'; but he pleaded that his 
 son, now travelling in France, would be made responsible, 
 should he join the coalition. "On my knees," he said, in a 
 letter to the Emperor Francis, " I implore you for permission 
 to remain neutral." His reasonable request was rejected, 
 and he was farther given to understand, that his troops would 
 not be permitted to remain as a separate army, but must be 
 incorporated with those of Austria. These were terms so 
 harsh, as to render an alliance with France preferable to sub- 
 mission. Maximilian, retreating from the capital of Munich 
 to Wurtzburg, and withdrawing his army into Franconia, 
 again endeavored to negociate for neutrality. It was again 
 imperiously refused; and while the Austrian government in- 
 sisted that the Elector should join them with his whole forces, 
 the Austrian troops were permitted to conduct themselves as 
 in an enemy's country; requisitions were raised, and other 
 measures resorted to, tending to show that the invaders re- 
 membered the ancient grudge which had so long subsisted be- 
 tween Bavaria and Austria. It was natural that, the Bavarian 
 prince, incensed at this treatment, should regard the allies as 
 enemies, and wait the arrival of the French as liberators. 
 
 The rashness which had characterised the conduct of the 
 cabinet of Vienna was fatally followed out by that of its gen- 
 eral, Mack; instead of occupying the line of the river Inn, 
 which affords a strong defence to the Austrian territory, and 
 on which he might have awaited in comparative safety the 
 arrival of the Russians, this unlucky tactician left the Inn far 
 behind him, and established his head-quarters at Ulm, on the 
 western frontiers of Bavaria. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that this great northern confederacy 
 took at unawares one who was always on the alert. The 
 Austrian forces were not more early ready for the field than 
 were the immense armies of the French empire, headed by 
 Napoleon. The camps at Boulogne, so long assembled on 
 the shores of the Channel, were now to be relieved from their 
 inactivity, and their march directed upon the German fron- 
 tiers. 
 
 Buonaparte communicated to the Senate the approach of 
 war, by a report, dated 22d September, in which, acquainting 
 them with the cause of quarrel betwixt himself and the allied 
 powers, he asked, and of course obtained, two decrees; one 
 for ordering 80,000 conscripts to the field, another for the or- 
 ganization of the National Guard. He then put himself at 
 the head of his forces, and proceeded to achieve the destruc- 
 
162 CAMPAIGNS^OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xii. 
 
 tion of Mack's army, not as at Marengo by one general battle, 
 but by a series of grand manoeuvres and a train of partial ac- 
 tions necessary to execute them, which rendered resistance and 
 retreat alike impossible. While Mack expected the approach 
 of the French upon his front, Buonaparte had formed the dar- 
 ing resolution to turn the flank of the Austrian general, cut 
 him off from his country and his resources, and reduce him 
 to the necessity, either of surrender, or of giving battle with- 
 out a hope of success. To execute this great conception, 
 the French army was parted into six grand divisions. That 
 of Bernadotte, evacuating Hanover which it had hitherto oc- 
 cupied, and traversing Hesse, formed a junction with the 
 Elector of Bavaria, who, with the troops which had followed 
 him into Franconia, immediately declared for the French 
 cause. The Elector of Wirtemberg and the Duke of Baden 
 followed the same line of politics; and thus Austria had array- 
 ed against her those very German princes, whom a moderate 
 conduct towards Bavaria might perhaps have rendered neu- 
 tral. The other five columns of French troops, under Ney, 
 Soult, Davoust, Vandamme and Marmont, crossed the Rhine 
 at different points, and entered Germany to the northward of 
 Mack's position; while Murat approaching the Black Forest, 
 manoeuvred in such a manner as to confirm Mack in his belief 
 that the main attack was to c^rae from that quarter. But the 
 direction of all the other divisions intimated that it was the 
 object of the French Emperor to move round the right wing 
 of the Austrians, by keeping on the north side of the Danube, 
 and then by crossing that river, to put themselves in the rear 
 of Mack's army, and interpose betwixt him and Vienna. For 
 this purpose, Soult, who had crossed at Spires, directed his 
 march upon Augsburg; while, to interrupt the communication 
 betwixt that city and Ulm, the Austrian head-quarters, Murat 
 and Lasnes had advanced to Wertingen, where a smart action 
 took place. The Austrians lost all their cannon, and 4„000 
 men — an ominous commencement of the campaign. With 
 the same purpose of disquieting Mack in his head-quarters, 
 and preventing him from attending to what passed on his left 
 wing and rear, Ney, who advanced from Stutgard, attacked 
 the bridges over the Danube at Guntzburg, which were gal- 
 lantly but fruitlessly defended by the Arch-duke Ferdinand, 
 who had advanced from Ulm to that place. The Arch-duke 
 lost many guns and nearly 3,000 men. 
 
 In order that Bernadotte and the Bavarians might have a 
 part in this great manoeuvre, it was necessary that they should 
 
Chap, xii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 163 
 
 violate the neutrality of the Prussian territories of Anspach, 
 and Bareuth, and Buonaparte, well aware of the real senti- 
 ments of the court of Berlin, did not hesitate to adopt this 
 course. Prussia remonstrated indignantly, but still held back 
 from proclaiming war; and Napoleon cared little for such im- 
 pediments as mere diplomacy could throw in the way of his 
 campaign. 
 
 The spirit of .enterprise had deserted Mack as soon as ac- 
 tual hostilities commenced. With the usual fault of Austrian 
 generals, he had extended his position too far, and embraced 
 too many points of defence, rendering his communications dif- 
 ficult, and offering facilities for Buonaparte's favorite tactics, 
 of attacking and destroying in detail the divisions opposed to 
 him. The defeat at Guntzburg induced Mack at length to 
 concentrate his army around Ulm; but Bavaria and Suabia 
 were now in full possession of the French and Bavarians; and 
 the Austrian general, Spangenberg, surrounded in Memmin- 
 gen, was compelled to lay down his arms with 5,000 men. — 
 The French had crossed the Rhine about the 26th of Septem- 
 ber; it was now the 13th of October, and they could scarcely 
 be said to have begun the campaign, when they had made on 
 various points, not fewer than 20,000 prisoners. 
 
 Mack now found himself, with the remains of his army, 
 cooped up in Ulm, as Wurmser had been in Mantua. He 
 published an order of the day, which intimated an intention to 
 imitate the persevering defence of that heroic veteran. He 
 forbade the word surrender to be used by any one — he an- 
 nounced the arrival of two powerful armies, one of Austrians, 
 the other of Russians, whose appear-ance would presently 
 raise the blockade — he declared his determination to eat horse- 
 flesh rather than listen to any terms of capitulation. This 
 bravado appeared on the 16th of October, and the conditions 
 of surrender were subscribed by Mack on the'next day. The 
 effects of this capitulation, were equal to the results of a 
 great victory. Artillery, baggage and military stores, were 
 given up to an immense extent. Eight general officers sur- 
 rendered upon parole, upwards of 20,000 men became prison- 
 ers of war, and were marched into France. The numbers of 
 the prisoners taken in this campaign were so great, that Na- 
 poleon distributed them amongst the agriculturists, that their 
 work in the fields might make up for the absence of the con- 
 scripts, whom he had withdrawn from such labor. The ex- 
 periment was successful; and from the docile habits of the 
 Germans, and the good-humor of their French employers, 
 
164 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xir. 
 
 this new species of servitude suited both parties, and went 
 some length to soften the hardships of war. For not the field 
 of battle itself, with its wounded and dead, is a more distress- 
 ing sight to humanity and reflection, than prison-barracks and 
 hulks, in which hundreds and thousands of prisoners are de- 
 livered up to idleness, and all the evils which idleness is sure 
 to introduce, and not unfrequently to disease and death. 
 
 The tide of war now rolled eastward, having surmounted 
 and utterly demolished the formidable barrier which was op- 
 posed to it. Buonaparte placed himself at the head of his 
 central army. Ney, upon his right, was ready to repel any 
 descent which might be made from the passes of the Tyrol. 
 Murat, on his left, watched the motions of the Austrians, un- 
 der the Arch-duke Ferdinand, who, refusing to join in the un- 
 worthy capitulation of Ulm, had cut their way into Bohemia, 
 and there united themselves with other forces, either station- 
 ed in that kingdom, or who had, like themselves, escaped 
 thither. Lastly, the division of Augereau (who had recently 
 advanced from France at the head of an army of reserve,) 
 occupying part of Suabia, served to protect the rear of the 
 French army against any movement from theVorarlberg; and 
 at the same time menaced the Prussians, in case, acting upon 
 the offence given by the violation of their territory, they 
 should have crossed the Danube, and engaged in the war. — 
 Buonaparte had reckoned with accuracy upon the timid and 
 fluctuating councils of that power. The aggression on their 
 territories of Anspach and Bareuth was learned at Berlin; 
 but then the news of the calamity sustained by the Austrians 
 at Ulm succeeded those tidings almost instantly, and while 
 the first article of intelligence seemed to urge instant hostili- 
 ties, the next was calculated to warn them against espousing 
 a losing cause. 
 
 Thus trusting to the vacillating and timid policy of Prussia, 
 Buonaparte, covered on his flank and rear as we have stated, 
 continued to push forward with his central forces towards 
 Vienna. It is true, that an army, partly consisting of Rus- 
 sians and partly of Austrians, had pressed forward, but were 
 now retreating step by step in front of the advancing French. 
 They halted, indeed, repeatedly, made a considerable show 
 of resistance, and fought some severe though partial actions-, 
 but always ended by continuing their retreat, which was now 
 directed upon Moravia, where the grand Russian army had 
 already assembled, under the command of the Emperor Alex- 
 ander, and were expecting still further reinforcements under 
 
Chap, xii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 165 
 
 General Buxhowden. Some attempts were made to place 
 Vienna in a state of defence, and the inhabitants were called 
 upon to rise en mass for that purpose. But as the fortifica- 
 tions were ancient and in disrepair, an effort at resistance 
 could only' have occasioned the destruction of the city. The 
 Emperor Francis departed for Brunn in Moravia, in order to 
 place himself under the protection of the Russian forces. 
 
 On the 13th of November the French took possession of 
 Vienna, where they obtained an immense quantity o( military 
 stores, arms and clothing; a part of which spoils were bestowed 
 by Napoleon upon his ally the Elector of Bavaria, who now 
 witnessed the humiliation of the Imperial House which had 
 of late conducted itself so haughtily towards him. General 
 Clark was appointed Governor of Vienna; and by a change 
 as rapid as if it had taken place on the stage, the new Em- 
 peror of France occupied Schcenbrunn, the splendid palace 
 of the long-descended Emperor of Austria. 
 
 Meantime success had attended Massena in his advance from 
 Lombardy towards the Venetian states, where the Arch-duke 
 Charles commanded an army of 80,000 men for Austria. Af- 
 ter sustaining various reverses the Arch-duke was forced to 
 abandon Italy; and retreated befere Massena through the 
 strong passes of the Carinthian mountains Nor had Mar- 
 shal Ney, whom Buonaparte had detached from his own main 
 army, with orders to advance into the Tyrol, been less suc- 
 cessful than Massena. The Arch-duke John, who command- 
 ed in that province was beaten like his brother; and the out- 
 posts of the army of Massena from Italy, and Ney, from the 
 Upper Rhine, at length met, and saluted in triumph at Clag- 
 enfurt. The Arch-duke Charles, understanding how Ney 
 was prospering in the Tyrol, had given up the design of re- 
 treating by that way into Germany, and proceeded through 
 the Carinthian mountains towards Hungary. Prince John 
 followed his brother's example, and the remains of these two 
 armies, thus coalescing in a distant region, the division of 
 Ney and Massena came in fact to be at the immediate dispo- 
 sal of Buonaparte. 
 
 But though such signal successes had crowned the com- 
 mencement of the campaign, it was necessary to defeat the 
 haughty Russians, before the object of the war could be con- 
 sidered as attained. The broken and shattered remnant of 
 the Austrian forces had rallied from different quarters around 
 the yet untouched army of Alexander; Napoleon had there- 
 fore waited until the result of his skilful combinations had 
 
66 
 
 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 
 
 [Chap, xii 
 
 drawn around him the greatest force he could expect to col- 
 lect, ere venturing upon a general battle. He quitted Vien- 
 na and put himself at the head of his columns, which passing 
 the Danube into Moravia, soon found themselves within reach 
 of the forces of Russia and Austria, at length combined and 
 prepared for action under the eyes of their respective Em- 
 perors. 
 
 Buonaparte has been much criticised for the rashness of 
 thus passing the Danube into Moravia, where a defeat, or 
 even a check might have been attended with the most fatal con- 
 sequences; but he was perfectly sensible that, as he had dis- 
 tinguished the earlier part of this campaign by some of the 
 most brilliant manoeuvres which military history records, it 
 was now incumbent upon him without delay, to conclude it by 
 a great and decisive victory over a new and formidable ene- 
 my. He neglected, therefore, no art by which success could 
 be ensured. In the first place, it was necessary to determine 
 the allies to immediate battle; for, situated in the heart of an 
 enemy's country, with insurrection spreading wider and wider 
 around him, an immediate action was as desirable on his part, 
 as delay would have been advantageous to his opponents. — 
 Some attempts at negotiation were made by the Austrians, to 
 aid which, Haugwitz, the Prussian minister, made his appear- 
 ance in the French camp with the offer of his master's media- 
 tion, but with the alternative of declaring war in case it was 
 refused. To temporize with Prussia was of the last conse- 
 quence, and the French Emperor found a willing instrument 
 in Haugwitz. " The French and Austrian outposts," said 
 Buonaparte, u are engaged; it is a prelude to the battle which 
 I am about to fight — Say nothing of your errand to me at 
 present — I wish to remain in ignorance of it. Return to 
 Vienna, and wait the events of war." Haugwitz, to use Na- 
 poleon's own expression, was no novice, and returned to 
 Vienna without waiting for another hint. 
 
 Buonaparte next sent Savary to the Russian camp, under 
 pretence of compliment to the Emperor Alexander, but in re- 
 ality as a spy upon that monarch and his generals He in- 
 formed Napoleon that the Russian sovereign was surrounded 
 by counsellors, whom their youth and rank rendered confident 
 and presumptuous, and who, he concluded, might be easily 
 misguided into some fatal act of rashness. Buonaparte acted 
 on the hint, and upon the first movement of the Austro-Rus- 
 sian army in advance, withdrew his forces from the position 
 they had occupied. Prince Dolgorucki, aid-de-camp of the 
 
 > 
 
Chap, xii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLtfOfa. 167 
 
 Emperor Alexander, was despatched by him to return the 
 compliments which had been brought him. He too was, 
 doubtless, expected to use his powers of observation, but 
 they were not so acute as those of the old officer of police. 
 Buonaparte, as if the interior of his camp displayed scenes 
 which he did not desire Dolgorucki to witness, met the prince 
 at the outpost, which the soldiers were in the act of hastily 
 covering with field-works, like an army which seeks to shel- 
 ter conscious weakness under entrenchments. Encouraged 
 by what he thought he saw of the difficulties in which the 
 French seemed to be placed, Dolgorucki entered upon poli- 
 tics, and demanded in plain terms the cession of the crown 
 of Italy. To this proposal Buonaparte listened with a pa- 
 tience which seemed to be the effect of his present situation. 
 In short, Dolgorucki carried back to his Imperial Master the 
 hastily conceived opinion, that the French Emperor was re- 
 treating, and felt himself in a precarious posture. On this 
 false ground the Russian council of war determined to act. — 
 Their plan was to extend their own left wing, with the purpose 
 of turning the right of the French army, and taking them 
 upon the flank and rear. 
 
 It was upon the 1st of December at noon that the Russians 
 commenced this movement, by which, in confidence of suc- 
 cess, they abandoned a chain of heights where they might 
 have received an attack with great advantage, descended into 
 ground more favorable to the enemy, and, finally, placed their 
 left wing at too great a distance from the centre. The French 
 general no sooner witnessed this rash manoeuvre, than he ex- 
 claimed, " Before to-morrow is over, that army is my own.'' 
 In the meantime, withdrawing his outposts, and concentrating 
 his forces, he continued to intimate a conscious inferiority, 
 which was far from existing. 
 
 The two armies seem to have been of equal strength. The 
 Austrians and Russians amounted to 100,000 men, and the 
 French might be about the same force; but they were com- 
 manded by Buonaparte, and the Russians by KutusofF, a 
 veteran soldier indeed, full of bravery and patriotism, and ac- 
 customed to war as it was waged against the Turks, but defi- 
 cient in general talent, as well as in the alertness of mind 
 necessary to penetrate into, and oppose the designs of his ad- 
 versaries. 
 
 At one o'clock in the morning of the 2d December, Na- 
 poleon, having slept for an hour by a watch-fire, got on horse- 
 back and proceeded to reconnoitre the front of his position. 
 
168 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xn. 
 
 He wished to do so without being recognised, but the soldiery 
 penetrated the secret, arid lighting great fires all along the 
 line, received him from post to post with shouts of enthusiasm 
 They reminded him that this was the anniversary of his coro- 
 nation, and assured him they would celebrate the day in a man- 
 ner worthy of its glory. " Only promise us," cried an old 
 grenadier, " that you will keep out of the fire." "I will do 
 so," answered Buonaparte. "I shall be with the reserve un- 
 iill you need us." 
 
 The Russians, we have seen, were extending their line to 
 surround the French flank. Marshal Davoust, with a divi- 
 sion of infantry, and another of dragoons, was placed behind 
 the convent of Raygern, to oppose the forces destined for this 
 manoeuvre, at the moment when they should conceive the 
 point carried. Soult commanded the right wing; Lasnes con- 
 ducted the left, which last rested upon a fortified position, call- 
 ed Santon, defended by twenty pieces of cannon. Berna- 
 dotte led the centre, where Murat and all the French cavalry 
 were stationed. Ten battalions of the Imperial Guard, with 
 ten of Oudinot's division, were kept in reserve in the rear of 
 the line, under the eyes of Buonaparte himself, who destined 
 them, with forty field-pieces, to act wherever the fate of bat- 
 tle should render their services most necessary. Such were 
 the preparations for this decisive battle, where three Emperors, 
 each at the head of his own army, strove to decide the desti- 
 nies of Europe. The sun rose with unclouded brilliancy; it 
 was that 'sun of Austerlitz' which Napoleon upon so many suc- 
 ceeding occasions apostrophised, and recalled to the minds of 
 his soldiers. As its first beams rose above the horizon, Na- 
 poleon appeared in front of the army, surrounded by his mar- 
 shals, to whom he issued his last directions, and they depart- 
 ed at full gallop to their different posts. 
 
 The column detached from the left of the Austro-Russian 
 army was engaged in a false manoeuvre, and it was ill execut- 
 ed. The intervals between the regiments of which it consist- 
 ed were suffered to become irregular, and the communica- 
 tions between this attacking column itself and the main body 
 were not maintained with sufficient accuracy. When the 
 Russians thought themselves on the point of turning the right 
 flank of the French, they found themselves suddenly, and at 
 unawares, engaged with Davoust's division, of whose position 
 behind the convent of Raygern, they had not been aware. — 
 At the same time, Soult, at the head of the French right wing,, 
 rushed forward upon the interval between the Austro-Rus- 
 
Chap, xii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 169 
 
 sian centre and left, caused by the march of the latter upon 
 Kaygern, and, completely intersecting their line, severed the 
 left wing entirely from the centre. The Emperor of Russia 
 perceived the danger, and directed a desperate attempt to be 
 made upon Soult's division by the Russian Guards, for the 
 purpose of restoring the communication with his left The 
 .trench infantry were staggered by this charge, and one regi- 
 ment completely routed. But it was in such a crisis that the 
 genius of Buonaparte triumphed. Bessieres had orders to ad- 
 vance with the Imperial Guard, while the Russians were dis- 
 ordered with their success The encounter was desperate, 
 and the Russians displayed the utmost valor before they at 
 length gave way to the discipline and steadiness of Buona- 
 parte s veterans. Their artillery and standards were lost, 
 and Prince Constantine, the Emperor's brother, who fought 
 
 honfe ' WaS ° nly SaVed bj the Speed of his 
 
 The centre of the French army now advanced to complete 
 the victory, and the cavalry of Murat made repeated charges 
 with such success, that the Emperors of Russia and Austria, 
 from the heights of Austerlitz, beheld their centre and left 
 completely defeated. The fate of the right wing could no 
 longer be protracted, and it was disastrous even beyond the 
 usual consequence of defeat. They had been actively press- 
 fi? b ^ as k nes du«ng the whole battle, but now the troops on 
 their left being routed, they were surrounded on all sides, and 
 unable to make longer resistance, were forced down into a 
 hollow, where they were exposed to the fire of twenty pieces 
 of cannon Many attempted to escape across a lake, which 
 was partially frozen, the French broke the ice about them by 
 J a storm of shot, and nearly 10,000 men died on the spot, some 
 ; swept away by the artillery, the greater part drowned. This 
 'fatality renewed according to Buonaparte's description, the 
 appearance of the battle with the Turks at Aboukir, where so 
 many thousand men flying from the battle, perished by drown- 
 ing. It was with the greatest difficulty, that, rallying the re- 
 mains of their routed forces around them, and retiring in the 
 best manner they could, the Emperors effected their personal 
 retreat. Only the devoted bravery of the Russians, and the 
 loyalty of the Austrian cavalry, who charged repeatedly to pro- 
 tect the retrograde movement, could have rendered it possible, 
 since the sole passage to the rear lay along a causeway, ex- 
 tendmg between two lakes. The retreat was, however, ac- 
 complished, and the Emperors escaped without sustaining the 
 
170 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xii 
 
 loss in the pursuit which might. have been expected. But in 
 the battle, at least 30,000 men had remained, killed, wounded 
 and prisoners; and forty standards, with a great proportion of 
 the hostile artillery, were the trophies of Buonaparte, whose 
 army had thus amply redeemed their pledge. 
 
 The influence of the victory on the Prussian councils was 
 made evident; for Count Haugwitz, who had been dismissed 
 to Vienna till the battle should take place, now returned to 
 Buonaparte's head-quarters, having changed the original mes- 
 sage of defiance of which he was the bearer, into a handsome 
 compliment to Napoleon upon his victory. The answer of 
 Buonaparte intimated his full sense of the duplicity of Prus- 
 sia. — " This," he said, " is a compliment designed for others, 
 but Fortune has transferred the address to me." It was, 
 however, still necessary to conciliate a power, which had an 
 hundred and fifty thousand men in the field; and a private 
 treaty with Haugwitz assigned the Electorate of Hanover to 
 Prussia, in exchange for Anspach, or rather as the price of he.r 
 neutrality at this important crisis. Thus all hope of Prussian 
 interference being over, the Emperor Francis must be held 
 justified in yielding to necessity, and endeavoring to secure 
 the best terms which could be yet obtained, by submitting at 
 discretion. His ally, Alexander, refused indeed to be con- 
 cerned in a negotiation, which in the circumstances could not 
 fail to be humiliating. 
 
 A personal interview took place betwixt the Emperor of 
 Austria and Buonaparte, to whose camp Francis resorted al- 
 most in the guise of a suppliant. The defeated prince is cep- 
 resented as having thrown the blame of the war upon the En- 
 glish. a They are a set of merchants," he said, " who would 
 set the continent on fire, in order to secure to themselves the 
 commerce of the world." When Buonaparte welcomed him 
 to his military hut, and said it was the only palace he had in- 
 habited for nearly two months, the Austrian answered with a 
 smile, " You have turned your residence, then, to such good 
 account, that you ought to be content with it." 
 
 The Emperor of Austria having satisfied himself that he 
 would be admitted to terms of greater or less severity, next 
 stipulated for that which Alexander had disdained to request 
 in his own person — the unmolested retreat of the Russians ta 
 their own country. 
 
 " The Russian army is surrounded," said Buonaparte; " not 
 a man can escape me, but I wish to oblige their Emperor, 
 and will stop the march of my columns, if your Majesty 
 
Chap, xii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 171 
 
 promises me that these Russians shall evacuate Germany, and 
 the Austrian and Prussian parts of Poland." u It is the pur- 
 pose of the Emperor Alexander to do so." The arrangement 
 was communicated by Savary to the Russian Emperor, who 
 acquiesced in the proposal to return with his army to Russia 
 by regular marches. No other engagement was required of 
 Alexander than his word; and the respectful manner in which 
 he is mentioned in the bulletins, indicates Buonaparte's desire 
 to cultivate a good understanding with this powerful and spirit- 
 ed young monarch. Accordingly he commenced his march 
 towards Russia, in pursuance of the terms agreed upon. The 
 Russian arms had been unfortunate; but the behaviour of 
 their youthful Emperor, and the marked difference shown to- 
 wards him by Buonaparte, made a most favorable impression 
 upon Europe at large. 
 
 The Austrian monarch, left to his fate, obtained from 
 Buonaparte an armistice — a small part of the price was im- 
 posed in the shape of a military contribution of an hundred 
 millions of francs, to be raised in the territories occupied by 
 the French armies. The cessation of hostilities was to en- 
 dure while Talleyrand on the one side, and Prince John of 
 Lichtenstein on the other, adjusted the terms of a general 
 pacification. The definitive treaty with France was signed 
 at Presburg on the 15th December, and another with Prussia 
 on the 26th at Vienna. Austria yielded the Venetian territo- 
 ries to the kingdom of Italy; her ancient possessions of the 
 Tyrol and Voralberg were transferred to Bavaria, to remuner- 
 ate the Elector for the part he had taken in the war. Wir- 
 temberg having also adopted the French side, received re- 
 compense of the same- kind at the expense of the same pow- 
 er, and both of these Electors were advanced to the dignity 
 of kings. Bavaria received Anspach and Bareuth from Prus- 
 sia, and in return, ceded Berg, which was erected into a 
 grand dutchy, and conferred, in an independent sovereignty, 
 on Napoleon's brother-in-law, Murat. Finally Prussia added 
 Hanover to her dominions in return for the cession of An- 
 spach and Bareuth, and acquiesence in the other arrange- 
 ments above mentioned. 
 
 Engine Beauharnois, son of Josephine and viceroy of Ita- 
 ly, received in marriage the eldest daughter of the new king 
 of Bavaria. It was announced at this time, that in case the 
 Emperor should die without male issue, the crown of Italy 
 should descend to Eugine. 
 
 Other events of the same character now crowded on the 
 
172 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap xii 
 
 scene. The king, or rather the queen of Naples, had not 
 failed, during the recent campaign to manifest the old aversion 
 to the French cause. St. Cyr's army, which, on the first rup- 
 tion of the peace of Amiens had occupied the seaports of that 
 kingdom, being called into the north of Italy to reinforce 
 Massena against the Arch-duke Charles, an Anglo-Russian 
 expedition soon landed in Naples, and were welcomed cor- 
 dially by the court. Napoleon, immediately after the battle 
 of Austerlitz, issued a proclamation declaring that "the roy- 
 al house of Naples had ceased to reign." On hearing of 
 the decisive battle, and the retreat of the czar, the English 
 and Russians evacuated the Neapolitan territories on the 
 mainland of Italy. Joseph Buonaparte conducted a French 
 army towards the frontier; the court passed ovdt, into Sicily, 
 and Joseph was proclaimed King of Naples. 
 
 The king of Sweden, rushing as hastily and inconsiderately 
 as he of Naples into the war of 1805, landed with a small 
 army in Germany and besieged Hamelen, a fortress in Hano- 
 ver, where Bernadotte had left a strong garrison. This move- 
 ment, had Prussia broken her neutrality, might have been of 
 high importance to the general cause; as events turned out it 
 was fruitless. The Swedes raised their seige in confusion, on 
 receiving the news of Austerlitz; and Napoleon from that 
 hour meditated the dethronement of the dynasty of Gustavus. 
 
 The principalities of Lucca, Massa-Carrara and Garfagna- 
 na were now conferred on Napoleon's sister. Eliza: on Pau- 
 line, the younger sister, who, after the death of general 
 Leclerc, had married the prince Borghese, the sovereignty of 
 Guastalla was in like manner bestowed. Napoleon's brother 
 Louis was created hereditary king of Lfolland. He had mar- 
 ried the beautiful Hortense-Fanny, daughter of Josephine — so 
 that, by this act, two members of the imperial house were at 
 once elevated to royalty. 
 
 Another great consequence of Austerlitz remains to be 
 mentioned. The kings of Wirtemberg and Bavaria, the 
 grand duke of Berg, and other sovereigns of the west of 
 Germany, were now associated together in a close alliance, 
 under the style of the " Confederation of the Rhine," and 
 the princes of the league were bound to place 60,000 men at 
 Napoleon's command. Finally, on his return to Paris, he 
 created a new order of nobility, — Talleyrand became prince 
 of Beneventum, Bernadotte of Ponte Corvo, Berthier of Neuf- 
 chatel ; the most distinguished of the marshals received the 
 title of duke, and a long array of counts of the empire filled 
 the lower steps of the throne. 
 
Chap, xiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 173 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 Battle of Trafalgar, and Death of Nelson. War with Prussia. Buona- 
 parte again heads his army in the field. Naumberg taken. Battle 
 of Jenna, and of Auerstadt. The French victorious, and Buona- 
 parte enters Berlin. All the strong fortresses of Prussia surrendered 
 to the French. Death of the Duke of Brunswick, and vow of revenge 
 taken by his son. 
 
 The triumphs of Napoleon had been greater at this period 
 of his reign, than had ever before been recorded in history 
 as achieved by a single man. Yet even these, like every- 
 thing earthly, -had their limit. Fate, while she seemed to as- 
 sign him complete dominion over the land, had vested in other 
 hands the empire of the seas; and it frequently happened 
 that when his victorious eagles were flying their highest pitch 
 upon the continent, some conspicuous naval disaster warned 
 the nations, that there was another element, where France 
 had a rival and a superior. 
 
 The combined fleets of France and Spain sailed from Ca- 
 diz on the 19th of October, 1805, and on the morning of the 
 21st they came in sight of the English fleet, off* Cape Tra- 
 falgar. The wind never impelled along the ocean two more 
 gallant armaments. Villeneuve, the French admiral, had 
 thirty-three ships of the line, and seven frigates; which, be- 
 sides the usual crews, carried 4000 troops, many of whom 
 excellent riflemen, were stationed in the tops. Nelson had 
 twenty-seven line-of-battle ships, and three frigates. Ville- 
 neuve showed no inclination to shun the eventful action. His 
 disposition was singular and ingenious. His fleet formed a 
 double line, each alternate ship being about a cable's length 
 to the windward of her second a-head and a-stern, and thus 
 the arrangement represented the chequers of a draught-board, 
 and seemed to guard against the operation of cutting the line. 
 But Nelson had determined to practise the manoeuvre in a 
 manner as original as the mode of defence adopted by Ville- 
 neuve. His order for sailing was in two lines, and this was 
 also the order for battle. An advanced squadron of eight of 
 the fastest sailing two-deckers, was to cut off three or four of 
 the enemies line, a-head of their centre; the second in com- 
 mand, admiral Collingwood, was to break in upon the enemy 
 about the twelfth ship from the rear, and Nelson himself de- 
 termined to bear down on the centre. The effect of these 
 
174 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xm. 
 
 manoeuvres must of course be a close and general action; for 
 the rest, Nelson knew he could trust to the determination of 
 his officers and seamen. To his admirals and officers he ex- 
 plained in general, that his object was a close and decisive ac- 
 tion; and that if, in the confusion and smoke of the battle, 
 signals should not be visible, the captain would never do 
 wrong who laid his ship alongside of the enemy. 
 
 With such dispositions on either side, the two gallant fleets 
 met on the memorable 21st of October. Admiral Colling- 
 wood, who led the van, went down on the enemy with all his 
 sails set, and, disdaining to furl them in the usual manner, cut 
 the sheets, and let his canvass fly loose in the wind, as if he 
 needed it no longer after it had borne him amidst the thickest 
 of the enemy. Nelson run his vessel, the Vicrory, on board 
 the French Redoubtable; the Temeraire, a second British 
 ship, fell on board the same vessel on the other side; another 
 enemy's ship fell on board the Temeraire, and the action was 
 fiercely maintained betwixt these four vessels, which lay as 
 close as if they had been moored together in some friendly 
 harbor. While the Yictory thus engaged the Redoubtable on 
 the starboard, she maintained from her larboard guns an in- 
 cessant fire on the Bucentaur and the colossal Santa Trini- 
 dad, a vessel of four decks. The example of the Admiral 
 was universally followed by the British captains; they broke 
 into the enemy's line on every side, engaged two or three 
 ships at the same time, and maintained the battle at the very 
 muzzles of the cannon. The British naval superiority was 
 soon made manifest. Nineteen ships of the line were cap- 
 tured, two were first rate vessels, none were under seventy- 
 four guns. Four ships of the line which had escaped were 
 taken in a subsequent action, and seven out of those which 
 succeeded in reaching Cadiz were rendered unserviceable. — 
 The fleets of France and Spain were, in fact, annihilated, 
 yet, great and glorious as was the triumph to the British, it 
 was dearly purchased — for Nelson fell, mortally wounded, 
 early in the action. He lived just long enough to hear the 
 cheers of victory, and then breathed out his spirit in words 
 worthy of his life, "Thank God! I have done my duty." 
 
 The unfortunate Villeneuve dared not trust his monarch's 
 forgiveness. " He ought," said Napoleon, " to have been 
 victorious, and he was defeated." For this, Villeneuve felt 
 there was no apology to be accepted, or even offered, and the 
 brave but unfortunate seaman committed suicide. 
 
Chap. xiii.J CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 175 
 
 As the conduct of Prussia had been fickle and versatile 
 during the campaign of Austerlitz, the displeasure of Na- 
 poleon was excited in proportion against her. By the treaty 
 which Haugwitzhad signed at Vienna, after the battle of Aus- 
 terlitz, it was agreed that Prussia should receive the Electo- 
 ral dominions of the King of England, his ally, instead of 
 Anspach, Bareuth and Neufchatel, which she was to cede to 
 France. The far superior value of Hanover was to be con- 
 sidered as a boon to Prussia, in guerdon of her neutrality. — 
 But Napoleon did not forgive the hostile disposition which 
 Prussia had manifested, and it is probable he waited with anx- 
 iety for the opportunity of inflicting upon her condign chas- 
 tisement. He continued to maintain a large army in Suabia 
 and Franconia, and, by introducing troops into Westphalia, 
 intimated, not obscurely, an approaching rupture with his ally. 
 
 Whatever reluctance the cabinet of Berlin had shown to 
 enter into hostilities with France, the court and country nev- 
 er appeared to have shared that sensation. The former was 
 under the influence of the young, beautiful and high-spirited 
 Queen, and of Louis of Prussia, a prince who felt with im- 
 patience the decaying importance of that kingdom, which the 
 victories of the Great Frederick had raised to such a pitch of 
 glory. These were surrounded by a numerous band of noble 
 youth, impatient for war, as the means of emulating the fame 
 of their fathers; but ignorant how little likely were even the 
 powerful and well disciplined forces of Frederick, unless di- 
 rected by his genius, to succeed in opposition to troops not 
 inferior to themselves, and conducted by a leader who had 
 long appeared to chain victory to his chariot wheels. The sen- 
 timents of the young Prussian noblesse were sufficiently indi- 
 cated, by their going to sharpen their sabres on the threshold 
 of La Foret, the ambassador of Buonaparte, and the wilder 
 frolic of breaking the windows of the ministers supposed to 
 be in the French interest. The Queen appeared frequently 
 in the uniform of the regiment which bore her name, and 
 sometimes rode herself at their head, to give enthusiasm to 
 the soldiery. This was soon excited to the highest pitch; and 
 had the military talents of the Prussian generals borne any 
 correspondence to the gallantry of the officers and soldiers, 
 an issue to the campaign might have been expected far differ- 
 ent from that which took place. 
 
 Amidst the general ferment of the public mind, Alexander, 
 once more appeared in person at the court of Berlin, and, 
 more successful than on the former occasion, prevailed on the 
 
176 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xiis. 
 
 King of Prussia at length to unsheath the sword. The sup- 
 port of the powerful hosts of Russia was promised; and, de- 
 feated by the fatal field of Austerlitz in his attempt to preserve 
 the south-east of Germany from French influence, Alexan- 
 der now stood forth to assist Prussia as the Champion of the 
 North. The King of Prussia had again placed at the head of 
 his armies the Duke of Brunswick. The plan of the cam- 
 paign, formed by this ill-fated prince, seems to have been 
 singularly injudicious, and the more so, as it is censurable on 
 exactly the same grounds as that of Austria in the late war. 
 Prussia could not expect to have the advantage of numbers in 
 the contest. It was, therefore her obvious policy to procrasti- 
 nate and lengthen out negotiation, until she could have the 
 advantage of the Russian forces. Instead of this, it was de- 
 termined to rush forward towards Franconia, and oppose the 
 Prussian army alone to the whole force of France, command- 
 ed by their renowned Emperor. The united force of the 
 Prussian army, with its auxiliaries, amounted to one hundred 
 and fifty thousand men, confident in their own courage, in the 
 rigid discipline which continued to distinguish their service, 
 and in the animating recollections of the victorious career of 
 the Great Frederick. There were many generals and sol- 
 diers in their ranks who had served under him; but, amongst 
 that troop of veterans, Blucher alone was destined to do dis- 
 tinguished honor to the school. 
 
 While Buonaparte assembled in Franconia an army consid- 
 erably superior in numbers to that of the Prussians, the latter 
 occupied the country in the vicinity of the river Saale, and 
 seemed, in doing so, to renounce all the advantage of making 
 the attack on the enemy ere he had collected his forces. Yet 
 to make such an attack, was, and must have been, the princi- 
 pal motive of their hasty and precipitate advance, especially 
 after they had secured its primary object, the accession of 
 Saxony to the campaign. The position which the Duke of 
 Brunswick occupied was indeed very strong as a defensive 
 one, but the means of supporting so large an army were not 
 easily to be obtained in such a barren country as that about 
 Weimar; and their magazines and depots of provisions were 
 injudiciously placed, not close in the rear of the army, but at 
 Naumburg, and other places, upon their extreme left, and 
 where they were exposed to the risk of being separated from 
 them. The head-quarters of the Prussians, where were the 
 King and Duke of Brunswick, were at Weimar; their left, 
 under Prince Hohenloe, were at Schleitz; and their right ex- 
 
Chap, xiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 177 
 
 tended as far as Muhlhausen, leaving thus a space of ninety 
 miles betwixt the extreme flanks of their line. 
 
 Buonaparte, in the meantime, commenced the campaign ac- 
 cording to his custom, by a series of partial actions fought on 
 different points, in which his usual combinations obtained his 
 usual success; the whole tending to straiten the Prussians in 
 their position, to interrupt their communications, separate 
 them from their supplies, and compel them to fight a decisive 
 battle from necessity, not choice, in which dispirited troops, un- 
 der baffled and outwitted generals, were to encounter with 
 soldiers who had already obtained a foretaste of victory, and 
 who fought under the most renowned commanders, the com- 
 bined efforts of the whole being directed by the master spirit 
 of the age. 
 
 The French advanced in three divisions, upon the disloca- 
 ted and extended position of the large, but ill-arranged Prus- 
 sian army. It was an irretrievable fault of the Duke of 
 Brunswick, that his magazines, reserves of artillery and am- 
 munition, were placed at Naumburg, instead of being close 
 in the rear of his army, and under the protection of his main 
 body. This ill-timed separation rendered it easy for the 
 French to interpose betwixt the Prussians and their supplies, 
 providing they were able to clear the course of the Saale. — 
 With this view the French right wing, commanded by Soult 
 and Ney, marched upon Hof. The centre was under Berna- 
 dotte and Davoust, with the guard commanded by Murat. — 
 They moved on Saalburg and Schleitz. The left wing was 
 led by Augereau against Coburg and Saalfeld. It was the 
 object of this grand combined movement to overwhelm the 
 Prussain left wing, which was extended farther than prudence 
 permitted; and, having beaten this part of the army, to turn 
 their whole position, and possess themselves of their maga- 
 zines. After some previous skirmishes, a serious action took 
 place at Saalfeld, where Prince Louis of Prussia command- 
 ed the advanced guard of the Prussian left wing. In the ar- 
 dour and inexperience of youth, the brave prince, instead of 
 ueing contented with defending the bridge on the Saale, quit- 
 ted that advantageous position, to advance with unequal forces 
 against Lasnes, who was marching upon him from Graflenthdfl. 
 If bravery could have atoned for imprudence, the battle of 
 Saalfeld would not have been lost. Prince Louis showed the 
 utmost gallantry in leading his men when they advanced, and 
 in rallying them when they fled. He was killed fighting hand 
 to hand with a French subaltern, who required him tosurren- 
 
 8* 
 
178 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Chap, xiii 
 
 der, and receiving a sabre-wound for reply, plunged his sword 
 into the prince's body. Several of his staff also fell around 
 him. 
 
 The victory of Saalfeld opened the course of the Saale to the 
 French, who instantly advanced on Naumburg. The city and 
 its magazines were consigned to the flames, which first an- 
 nounced to the Prussians that the French army bad gotten 
 completely into their rear, had destroyed their magazines, 
 and, being now interposed betwixt them and Saxony, left 
 them no alternative save that of battle. 
 
 Too late determined to make some exertion to clear their 
 communications to the rear, the Duke of Brunswick, with the 
 King of Prussia in person, marched with a great part of their 
 army to the recovery of Naumburg. Here Davoust, who had 
 taken the place, remained at the head of a division of thirty- 
 six thousand men, with whom he was to oppose nearly double 
 the number. The march of the Duke of Brunswick was so 
 slow, as to lose the advantage of this superiority. He paus- 
 ed on the evening of the 12th on the heights of Auerstadt, 
 and gave Davoust time to reinforce the troops with which he 
 occupied the strong defile of Koesen. The next morning, 
 Davoust, witn strong reinforcements, but still unequal in num- 
 bers to the Prussians, marched towards the enemy, whose col- 
 umns were already in motion. The vanguard of both armies 
 met, without previously knowing that they were so closely ap- 
 proaching each other, so thick lay the mist upon the ground. 
 The village of Hassen-Hausen, near which the opposite 
 armies were first made aware of each other's proximity, be-' 
 came instantly the scene of a severe conflict, and was taken 
 and retaken repeatedly. The Prussian cavalry, being superi- 
 or in numbers to that of the French, and long famous for its 
 appointments and discipline, attacked repeatedly, and was as 
 often resisted by the French squares of infantry, whom they 
 found it impossible to throw into disorder, or break upon any 
 point. Tne French having thus repelled the Prussian horse, 
 carried at the point of the bayonet some woods and the vil- 
 lage of Spilberg, and remained in undisturbed possession of 
 that of Hassen-Hausen. The Prussians had by this time 
 maintained the battle from eight in the morning till eleven, 
 and being now engaged on all points with the exception of 
 two divisions of the reserve, had suffered great loss. The 
 Generalissimo, Duke of Brunswick, wounded in the face by a 
 grape-shot, was carried off; so was Gen. Schmettau, and oth- 
 er officers of distinction. The want of an experienced chief 
 
Chap, xiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 179 
 
 began to be felt, when to increase the difficulties of their situa- 
 tion, the King of Prussia received intelligence that General 
 Mollendorf, who commanded his right wing, was in the act of 
 being defeated by Buonaparte in person. The King took the 
 generous but perhaps desperate resolution, of trying whether 
 in one general charge he could not redeem the fortune of the 
 day, by defeating that part of the French with which he was 
 personally engaged. He ordered the attack to be made all 
 along' the line, and with all the forces which he had in the 
 field; and his commands were obeyed with gallantry enough 
 to vindicate the honor of the troops, but not to lead to success. 
 They were beaten off, and the French resumed the offensive 
 in their turn. 
 
 Still the Prussian monarch, who seems now to have taken 
 the command on himself, endeavoring to supply the want of 
 professional experience by courage, brought up his last re- 
 serves, and encouraged his broken troops rather to make a 
 final stand for victory, than to retreat in face of a conquering 
 army. This effort also proved in vain. The Prussian line 
 was attacked everywhere at once; centre and wings were 
 broken through by the French at the bayonet's point; and 
 the retreat, after so many fruitless efforts, in which no divi- 
 sion had been left unengaged, was of the most disorderly 
 character. But the confusion was increased tenfold, when, 
 as the defeated troops reached Weimar, they fell in with the 
 right wing of their own army, fugitives like themselves, and 
 who were attempting to retreat in the same direction. The 
 disorder of two routed armies meeting in opposing currents, 
 soon became inextricable. The roads were choked up with 
 artillery and baggage waggons; the retreat became a hurried 
 flight; and the King himself, who had shown the utmost cour- 
 age during the battle of Auerstadt, was at length, for person- 
 al safety, compelled to leave the high roads, and escape across 
 the field escorted by a small body of cavalry. 
 
 While the left of the Prussian army were in the act of 
 combating Davoust at Auerstadt, their right, as we have hint- 
 ed, were with equally bad fortune engaged at Jena. This 
 second action, though the least important of the two, has al- 
 ways given the name to the double battle; because it was at 
 Jena that Napoleon was engaged in person. The French 
 Emperor had arrived at this town, which is situated upon the 
 Saale, on the 13th of October, and had lost no time in issuing 
 those orders to his Marshals, which produced the demonstra- 
 tions of Davoust and the victory of Auerstadt. His attention 
 
180 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xiit. 
 
 was not less turned to the position he himself occupied, and 
 in which he had the prospect of fighting Mollendorf, and the 
 right of the Prussians, on the next morning. With his usual 
 activity, he formed or enlarged, in the course of the night, 
 the roads by which he proposed to bring up his artillery on 
 the succeeding day, and, by hewing the solid rock, made a 
 path practicable for guns to the plateau, or elevated plain in 
 the front of Jena, where his centre was established. The 
 Prussian army lay before them, extended on a line of six 
 leagues, while that of Napoleon, extremely concentrated, 
 showed a very narrow front, but was well secured both in the 
 flanks and in the rear. Buonaparte, according to his custom, 
 slept in the bivouac, surrounded by his guards. In the morn- 
 ing he harrangued his soldiers, and recommended to them to 
 stand firm against the charges of the Prussian cavalry, which 
 had been represented as very redoubtable. As before Ulm 
 he had promised his soldiers a repetition of the battle of Ma- 
 rengo, so now he pointed out to his men that the Prussians, 
 separated from their magazines, and cut off from their country, 
 were in the situation of Mack at dim. He told them that 
 the enemy no longer fought for honor and victory, but for the 
 chance of opening a way to retreat; and he added, that the 
 corps which should permit them to escape would lose their 
 honor. The French replied with loud shouts, and demanded 
 instantly to advance to the combat. The Emperor ordered 
 the columns destined for the attack to descend into the plain. 
 His centre consisted of the Imperial Guard and two divisions 
 of Lasnes. Augereau commanded the right, which rested on 
 a village and a forest; and Soult's division, with a part of 
 Ney's, were upon the left. 
 
 General Mollendorf advanced on his side, and both armies, as 
 at Auerstadt, were hid from each other by the mist, until sud- 
 denly the atmosphere cleared, and showed them to each other 
 within the distance of half cannon-shot. The conflict instant- 
 ly commenced. It began on the French right, where the 
 Prussians attacked with the purpose of driving Augereau from 
 the village on which he rested his extreme flank. Lasnes 
 was sent to support him, by whose succour he was enabled to 
 stand his ground. The battle then became general, and the 
 Prussians showed themselves such masters of discipline, that 
 it was long impossible to gain any advantage over men, who 
 advanced, retired, or moved to either flank, with the regulari- 
 ty of machines. Soult at length, by the most desperate ef- 
 forts, dispossessed the Prussians opposed to him, of the woods 
 
Chap, xm.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 181 
 
 from which they had annoyed the French left; and at the 
 same conjuncture the division of Ney, and a large reserve 
 of cavalry, appeared upon the field of battle. Napoleon 
 thus strengthened, advanced the centre, consisting in a great 
 measure of the Imperial Guard, who, being fresh and in the 
 highest spirits, compelled the Prussian army to give way. 
 Their retreat was at first orderly; but it was a part of Buo- 
 naparte's tactics to pour attack after attack uDon a worsted 
 enemy, as the billows of a tempestuous ocean follow each oth- 
 er in succession, till the last waves totally disperse the frag- 
 ments of the bulwark which the first have breached. Murat 
 at the head of the dragoons and the cavalry of reserve, charg- 
 ed, as one who would merit, as far as bravery could merit, 
 the splendid destinies which seemed now opening to him. — 
 The Prussian infantry were unable to support the shock, nor 
 could their cavalry protect them. The route became general. 
 Great part of the artillery was taken, and the broken troops 
 retreated in disorder upon Weimar, where, as we have already 
 stated, their confusion became inextricable, by their encoun- 
 tering the other tide of fugitives from their own left, which 
 was directed upon Weimar also. All leading and following 
 seemed now lost in this army, so lately confiding in its num- 
 bers and discipline. There was scarcely a general left to is- 
 sue orders, scarcely a soldier disposed to obey them; and it 
 seems to have been more by a sort of instinct, than any re- 
 solved purpose, that several broken regiments were directed, 
 or directed themselves, upon Magdeburg, where Prince Ho- 
 henloe endeavored to rally them. 
 
 Besides the double battle of Jena and Auerstadt, Berna- 
 dotte had his share in the conflict, as he worsted at Apolda, a 
 village between those two points of general action, a large 
 detachment. The French accounts state that 20,000 Prus- 
 sians were killed and taken in the course of this fatal day; 
 that three hundred guns fell into their power, with twenty 
 generals, or lieutenant-generals, and standards and colors to 
 the number of sixty. 
 
 The mismanagement of the Prussian generals in these 
 calamitous battles, and in all the manoeuvres which preceded 
 them, amounted to infatuation. The troops also, according 
 to Buonaparte's evidence, scarcely maintained their high 
 character, oppressed probably by a sense of the disadvantages 
 under which they combated. But it is unnecessary to dwell on 
 the various causes of a defeat, when the vanquished seem 
 neither to have formed one combined and general plan of at- 
 
182 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.xiii 
 
 tack in the action, nor maintained communications with each 
 other while it endured, nor agreed upon any scheme of re- 
 treat when the day was lost. The Duke of Brunswick, too, 
 and General Schmettau, being mortally wounded . early in the 
 battle, the several divisions of the Prussian army fought in- 
 dividually, without receiving any general orders and conse- 
 quently without regular plan or combined manoeuvres. The 
 consequences of the defeat were more universally calamitous 
 than could have been anticipated, even when we consider, 
 that, no mode of retreat having been fixed on, or general ral- 
 lying place appointed, the broken army resembled a covey of 
 heath-fowl, which the sportsman marks down and destroys in 
 detail and at his leisure. 
 
 Next day after the action, a large body of the Prussians, 
 who, under the command of Mollendorf, had retired to Erfurt, 
 were compelled to surrender to the victors, and the Marshal, 
 with the Prince of Orange Fulda, became prisoners. Other 
 relics of this most unhappy defeat met with the same fate. — 
 General Kalkreuth, at the head of a considerable division of 
 troops, was overtaken and routed in an attempt to cross the 
 Hartz mountains. Prince Eugene of Wirtemberg command- 
 ed an untouched body of sixteen thousand men, whom the 
 Prussian general-in-chief had suffered to remain at Memmin- 
 gen, without an attempt to bring them into the field. Instead 
 of retiring when he heard all was lost, the Prince was rash 
 enough to advance towards Halle, as if to put the only un- 
 broken division of the Prussian army in the way of the far 
 superior and victorious hosts of France. He was according- 
 ly attacked and defeated by Bernadotte. The chief point of 
 rallying, however, was Magdeberg, under the walls of which 
 strong city, Prince Hohenloe, though wounded, contrived to 
 assemble an army amounting to fifty thousand men, but want- 
 ing everything, and in the last degree of confusion. But 
 Magdeberg was no place of rest for them. The same im- 
 providence, which had marked every step of the campaign, 
 had exhausted that city of the immense magazines which it 
 contained, and taken them for the supply of the Duke of 
 Brunswick's army. The wrecks of the field of Jena were 
 exposed to famine as well as to the sword. It only remained 
 for Prince Hohenloe to make the best escape he could, and, 
 considering the disastrous cicumstances in which he was 
 placed, he seems to have displayed both courage and skill in 
 his proceedings. After various partial actions, however, in all 
 of which he lost men, he finally found himself, with the ad- 
 
Chap, xiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 183 
 
 vanced-guard ajid centre of his army, on the heights of 
 Prenzlow, without provisions, forage or ammunition. Sur- 
 render became unavoidable; and at Prenzlow and Passewalk 
 nearly 20,000 Prussians laid down their arms. 
 
 The rear of Prince Hohenloe's army did not immediately 
 share this calamity. They were at Bortzenberg when the sur- 
 render took place, and amounted to about ten thousand men, 
 the relics of the battle in which Prince Eugene of Wirtem- 
 berg had engaged near Weimar, and were under the com- 
 mand of a general whose name hereafter was destined to 
 sound like a war trumpet— the celebrated Blucher. In the ex- 
 tremity of his country's distresses, this distinguished soldier 
 shewed the same indomitable spirit, the same activity in exe- 
 cution and daringness of resolve, which afterwards led to 
 such glorious results. He was about to leave Bortzenberg 
 on the 29th, in consequence of his orders from Prince Ho- 
 henloe, when he learned that general's disaster at Prenzlow. 
 He instantly changed the direction of his retreat, and, by a 
 rapid march towards Strelitz, contrived to unite his forces 
 with about ten thousand men, gleanings of Jena and Auer- 
 stadt, which, under the Dukes of Weimar and of Brunswick 
 Oels, had taken their route in that direction. Thus reinforced, 
 Blucher adopted the plan of passing the Elbe at Lauenburg, 
 and reinforcing the Prussian garrison at Lower Saxony.— 
 With this view he fought several sharp actions, and made ma- 
 ny rapid marches. But the odds were too great to be balan- 
 ced by courage and activity. The division of Soult which had 
 crossed the Elbe, cut him off from Lauenburg, that of Mu- 
 rat interposed between him and Stralsund, while Bernadotte 
 pressed upon his rear. Blucher had no resource but to throw 
 himself and his diminished and dispirited army into Lubeck. 
 The pursuers soon came up, and found him like a stag at bay. 
 A battle was fought on the 6th of November in the streets of 
 Lubeck, with extreme fury on both sides, in which the Prus- 
 sians were overpowered by numbers, and lost many slain, be- 
 sides four thousand prisoners. Blucher fought his way out of 
 the town, and reached Schwerta. But he had now retreated 
 as far as he had Prussian ground to bear him, and to violate 
 the neutrality of the Danish territory, would only have raised 
 up new enemies to his unfortunate master. On the 7th of 
 November, therefore, he gave up his good sword, to be re- 
 sumed under happier auspices, and surrendered with the few 
 thousand men which remained under his command. But the 
 courage which he had manifested, like the lights of St. Elmo 
 
184 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xiii. 
 
 amid the gloom of the tempest, showed that there was at 
 least one pupil of the Great Frederick worthy of his master, 
 and afforded hopes on which Prussia long dwelt in silence, till 
 the moment of action arrived. 
 
 The total destruction, for such it might almost be termed, of 
 the Prussian army, was scarcely so wonderful, as the facility 
 with which the fortresses which defend that country, some of 
 them ranking among the foremost in Europe, were surrender- 
 ed by their commandants, without shame, and without resist- 
 ance, to the victorious enemy. Strong towns, and fortified 
 places, on which the engineer had exhausted his science, pro- 
 vided too, with large garrisons, and ample supplies, opened 
 their gates at the sound of a French trumpet, or the explosion 
 of a few bombs. Spandau, Stettin, Castrin and Hamelen, 
 were each qualified to have arrested the march of invaders 
 for months, yet were all surrendered on little more than a 
 summons. In Magdeberg was a garrison of twenty-two thou- 
 sand men, two thousand of them being artillerymen; and nev- 
 ertheless, this celebrated city capitulated with Marshal Ney, 
 at the first flight of shells. 
 
 While the French army made this uninterrupted progress, 
 the new king of Holland, Louis Buonaparte, with an army, 
 partly composed of Dutch and partly of Frenchmen, possess- 
 ed himself with equal ease of Westphalia, great part of Hano- 
 ver, Emden and East Friesland. To complete the picture of 
 general disorder which Prussia now exhibited, it is only nec- 
 cessary to add, that the unfortunate king, whose personal 
 qualities deserved a better fate, had been obliged after the 
 battle to fly into East Prussia, where he finally sought refuge 
 in the city of Koningsberg. L'Estocq, a faithful and able 
 general, was still able to assemble out of the wreck of the 
 Prussian army, a few thousand men for the protection of his 
 sovereign. Buonaparte took possession of Berlin on the 
 25th of October, eleven days after the battle of Jena. 
 
 The Duke of Brunswick received a mortal wound on the 
 field of battle, and was immediately transported to his heredi- 
 tary capital. But the approach of the French troops to 
 Brunswick, compelled the dying prince to cause himself to 
 be carried to Altona, where he expired. A vow of " eternal 
 revenge" was made by his son — how he kept it we shall^ see 
 hereafter. 
 
Chap, xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 185 
 
 CHAP. XIV 
 
 Napoleon welcomed with enthusiasm by the Poles. Enters Warsaw, and 
 Bennigsen retreats before him. Character of the Russian soldiery. — 
 The Cossacks. Battle of Pultusk. French go into winter quar- 
 ters. Battle or Preuss Eylau. Surrender of Dantzic. Both 
 armies recruited. Battle of Heilsberg. Battle of Friedland, on 
 the 13th of June, 1807, and defeat of the Russians. Treaty of Tilsit. 
 
 The ruin of Prussia seemed, in the eyes of astonished 
 Europe, not only universal, but irremediable. The King, 
 driven to the extremity of his dominions, could only be con- 
 sidered as a fugitive, whose precarious chance of restoration 
 to the crown depended on the doubtful success of his ally of 
 Russia, who now, as after the capture of Vienna, had upon 
 his hands, strong as those hands were, not the task of aiding 
 an ally, who was in the act of resistance to the common ene- 
 my, but the far more difficult one of raising from the ground 
 a prince who was totally powerless and prostrate. The 
 French crossed the Oder — Glogau and Breslau were taken. 
 Their defence was respectable; but it seemed not the less cer- 
 tain that their fall involved almost the last hopes of Prussia, 
 and that a name, raised so high by the reign of one wise 
 monarch, was like to be blotted out from the map of Europe, 
 by the events of a single day. 
 
 The unfortunate king sent a messenger to Napoleon to 
 learn on what terms he might be admitted to treat for peace 
 with the victor, who now had possession of his capital and the 
 greater part of his dominions. He had been accustomed to 
 treat with France on the footing of equality, — but these 
 times were passed since the battle of Jena, and the only terms 
 to which Prussia could now be admitted even to a temporary- 
 armistice, was the surrender of all her remaining fortresses. 
 He refused to acquiesce in such severe terms, and determin- 
 ed to repose his fate in the chance of war, and in the support 
 of the auxiliary army of Russia which was now hastily ad- 
 vancing to his assistance. 
 
 Napoleon was justified in these harsh terms, by having now 
 brought his victorious armies to the neighborhood of Poland, 
 in which he had a good right to conceive himself sure to find 
 numerous followers and a friendly reception The partition 
 of this fine kingdom by its powerful neighbors, Russia, Aus- 
 
186 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xit. 
 
 tria and Prussia, was the first open and audacious transgres- 
 sion of the law of nations, which disgraced the annals of civ- 
 ilized Europe. It was executed by a combination ot three 
 of the most powerful states of Europe against one, too unhap- 
 py in the nature of its constitution, and too much divided by 
 factions, to offer any effectual resistance. The kingdom 
 subjected to this aggression had appealed in vain to the code 
 of nations for protection against an outrage to which, after a 
 desultory and uncombined, and therefore a vain defence she 
 saw herself under the necessity of submitting. Ihe 1 oles 
 retained, too, a secret sense of their fruitless attempt to recov- 
 er freedom in 1791, and an animated recollection of the vio- 
 lence by which it had been suppressed by the Russian arms. 
 They waited with hope and exultation the approach ot the 
 French armies to aid them in regaining the independence ot 
 which they had been oppressively and unjustly deprived. 
 
 The continuance of war was now to be determined upon; a 
 war to be waged with circumstances of more than usual hor- 
 ror as it involved the sufferings of a winter-campaign in the 
 northern latitudes. The French, having completely conquer- 
 ed the Prussian estates to the east of the Oder had formed 
 the sieges of Great Glogau, of Breslau and of Graudentz, 
 and were at the same time pushing westward to occupy .Po- 
 land The Russian general, Benmgsen, had on his side 
 pressed forward for the purpose of assisting the 1 russians, 
 and had occupied Warsaw. But finding that their unfortu- 
 nate allies had scarcely the remnant of an army in the field, 
 the Russian general retreated after some skirmishes, and re- 
 crossed the Vistula, while the capital of Poland thus evacu- 
 ated, was entered on the 28th of November by Murat, at the 
 head of the French van-guard. 
 
 About the 25th Buonaparte, leaving Berlin, had established 
 himself at Posen, a central town of Poland, which country 
 besan to manifest an agitation, arising from the animating 
 prospect of restored independence. The Poles resumed in 
 many instances their ancient national dress and manners, 
 and sent deputies to urge the decision of Buonaparte in then 
 favor The language in which they entreated his interposi- 
 tion, resembled that of oriental idolatry. « The Polish na- 
 tion " said the Palatine of Gnesna, " presents itself before 
 your Majesty, groaning still under the yoke of German na- 
 tions, and salutes with the purest joy the regenerator of their 
 dear country, the legislator of the universe. Full of submis- 
 sion to your will, they adore you, and repose on you with con- 
 
Chap, xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 187 
 
 fidence all their hopes, as upon him who has the power of 
 raising empires and destroying them, and of humbling the 
 proud." 
 
 In the meanwhile, Warsaw was put into a state of defence, 
 and the auxiliary forces of Saxony and the new confederates 
 of the Rhine were brought up by forced marches, while strong 
 reinforcements from France repaired the losses of the early 
 part of the campaign. The French army at length advanced 
 in full force, and crossed successively the rivers Vistula and 
 Bug, forcing a passage wherever it was disputed. But it 
 was not the object of Bennigsen to give battle to forces superi- 
 or to his own, and he therefore retreated behind the Wkra, 
 and was joined by the large bodies of troops commanded 
 by Generals Buxhowden and Kaminskoy. On the 23d of 
 December, Buonaparte arrived in person upon the Wkra, and 
 ordered the advance of his army in three divisions. Kamins- 
 koy, when he saw the passage of this river forced, determin- 
 ed to retreat behind the Niemen, and sent orders to his lieu- 
 tenants accordingly. Bennigsen, therefore, fell back upon 
 Pultusk, and Prince Galitzin upon Golymin, both pursued by 
 large divisions of the French army. The Russian Generals 
 Buxhowden and D'Anrep also retreated in different directions, 
 and apparently without maintaining a sufficiently accurate com- 
 munication either with Bennigsen, or Galitzin 
 
 Buonaparte was sensible that he was approaching a conflict 
 of a different kind from that which he had maintained with 
 Austria, and more lately against Prussia. The common sol- 
 dier in both those services was too much levelled into a mere 
 moving piece of machinery, to have any confidence in him- 
 self, or zeal beyond the mere discharge of the task entrusted 
 to him according to the word of command. These troops, 
 however highly disciplined, wanted that powerful and individu- 
 al feeling, which in armies possessing a strong national char- 
 acter, (by which the Russians are peculiarly distinguished,) 
 induces the soldier to resist to the last moment, even when re- 
 sistance can only assure him of revenge. They were still 
 the same Russians, of whom Frederick the Great said, "that 
 he could kill, but could not defeat them;"— they were also 
 strong of constitution, and inured to the iron climate in which 
 Frenchmen were now making war for the first time; and were 
 accustomed from their earliest life to spare nourishment and 
 hardship. 
 
 The Cossacks are a species of force belonging to Russia ex- 
 clusively. They are trained from early childhood to the use 
 
188 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xir 
 
 of the lance and sword, and familiarised to the management 
 of a horse peculiar to the country; far from handsome in ap- 
 pearance, but tractable, hardy, swift and sure-footed, beyond 
 any breed perhaps in the world. At home, and with his fami- 
 ly and children, the Cossack is kind, gentle, generous and 
 simple; but when in arms, and in a foreign country, he re- 
 sumes the predatory, and sometimes the ferocious habits of 
 his ancestors, the roving Scythians. As the Cossacks receive 
 no pay, plunder is generally their object; and as prisoners 
 were esteemed a useless encumbrance, they granted no quar- 
 ter,, until Alexander promised a ducat for every Frenchman 
 whom they brought in alive. In the actual field of battle, 
 their mode of attack is singular. Instead of acting in line, a 
 body of Cossacks about to charge, disperse at the word of 
 command, very much in the manner of a fan suddenly flung 
 open, and joining in a loud yell, or hourra, rush, each acting 
 individually, upon the object of attack, whether infantry, cav- 
 alry or artillery, to all of which they have been in this wild 
 way of fighting, formidable assailants. But it is as light 
 cavalry that the Cossacks are perhaps unrivalled. They and 
 their horses have been known to march one hundred miles in 
 twenty-four hours without halting. They plunge into woods, 
 swim rivers, thread passes, cross deep morasses, and pene- 
 trate through deserts of snow, without undergoing material 
 loss, or suffering from fatigue. No Russian army with a large 
 body of Cossacks in front can be liable to surprise; nor on the 
 other hand, can an enemy surrounded by them ever be confident 
 against it. In covering the retreat of their own army, their 
 velocity, activity and courage, render pursuit by the enemy's 
 cavalry peculiarly dangerous; and in pursuing a flying ene- 
 my, these qualities are still more redoubtable. In the cam- 
 paign of 1806-7, the Cossacks took the field in great num- 
 bers, under their celebrated Hettman PlatorT, who, himself a 
 Cossack, knew their peculiar capacity for warfare, and rais- 
 ed their fame to a pitch which it had not attained in former 
 European wars. The Russians had also in their service Tar- 
 tar tribes, who in irregularity resembled the Cossacks, but 
 were not to be compared with them in discipline or courage, 
 being in truth, little better than hordes of roving savages. 
 On the 25th of December, the Russian army of Bennig- 
 sen, closely concentrated, occupied a position behind Pul- 
 tusk; their left, commanded by Count Ostreman, rested upon 
 the town, which is situated on the river Narew. A corps 
 occupied the bridge, to prevent any attack from that point. — 
 
Chap, xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 189 
 
 The right, under Barclay de Tolly, was strongly posted in a 
 wood, and the centre was under the orders of General Za- 
 chen. A considerable plain extended between the town of 
 Pultusk and the wood, which formed the right of the Russian 
 position. They had stationed a powerful advanced guard, had 
 occupied the plain with their cavalry, and established a strong 
 reserve in their rear. On the 26th, the Russian position was 
 attacked by the French divisions of Lasnes and Davoust, to- 
 gether with the French guards. After skirmishing some time 
 in the centre without making the desired impression, the bat- 
 tle appeared doubtful, when, suddenly assembling a great 
 strength on their own left, the French made a decisive effort 
 to overwhelm the Russians, by turning their right wing. The 
 attack prevailed to a certain extent. The accumulated and 
 superior weight of fire, determined Barclay de Tolly to 
 retreat on his reserves, which he did without confusion, while 
 the French seized upon the wood, and took several Russian 
 guns. But Bennigsen, in spite of Kaminskoy's order to 
 retreat, was determined to abide the brunt of battle, and to 
 avail himself of the rugged intrepidity of the troops which 
 he commanded. Ordering Barclay de Tolly to continue his 
 retreat, and thus throwing back his right wing, he enticed 
 the French, confident in victory, to pursue their success until 
 the Russian cavalry, which had covered the manoeuvre, sud- 
 denly withdrawing, they found themselves under a murderous 
 and well directed fire from one hundred and twenty guns, 
 which extending along the Russian front, played on the 
 French advancing columns with the utmost success. The 
 Russian line at the same time advanced in turn, and pushing 
 the enemy before them, recovered the ground from which 
 they had been driven. The approach of night ended the com- 
 bat, which had been both obstinate and bloody. The French 
 lost near eight thousand men, killed and wounded, including 
 General Lasnes and five other general officers among the 
 latter. The Russian loss amounted to five thousand. The 
 French retreated after nightfall with such rapidity, that on 
 the next day the Cossacks could not find a rear-guard in the 
 vicinity of Pultusk. 
 
 Bennigsen fell back upon Ostrolenka, where he was joined 
 by Prince Galitzin, who had been engaged in action at 
 Golymin upon the day of the battle of Pultusk, had like 
 Bennigsen driven back the enemy, and like him had retreated 
 for the purpose of concentrating his forces with those of the 
 grand army. The French evinced a feeling of the unusual 
 
190 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xiv. 
 
 and obstinate nature of the contest in which they had been 
 engaged at Pultusk and Golymin. Instead of pressing th-eir 
 operations, they retreated into winter-quarters; Napoleon 
 withdrawing his guard as far as Warsaw, while the other 
 divisions were cantoned in the towns to the eastward. 
 
 The conduct of Kaminskoy began now to evince decided 
 tokens of insanity. He was withdrawn from the supreme 
 command, which, with the general approbation of the soldiers 
 was conferred upon Bennigsen. This general was not equal 
 in military genius to Suwarrow, but he seems to have been 
 well fitted to command a Russian army. He was active, 
 hardy and enterprising, and showed none of that peculiarly 
 fatal hesitation, by which officers of other nations opposed to 
 the French generals, and to Buonaparte in particular, seem 
 often to have been affected, as with a sort of moral palsy, 
 which disabled them for the combat at the very moment 
 when it seemed about to commence. On the contrary, 
 Bennigsen, finding himself in the supreme command of ninety 
 thousand men, was resolved not to wait for Buonaparte's 
 onset, but determined to anticipate his motions; wisely con- 
 cluding, that the desire of desisting from active operations, 
 which the French Emperor had evinced by cantoning his 
 troops in winter-quarters, ought to be a signal to the Russians 
 again to take the field. 
 
 Buonaparte saw himself forced into a winter campaign, and 
 issued general orders for drawing out his forces, for the pur- 
 pose of concentrating them at Willenberg, in the rear of the 
 Russians, (then stationed at Mohringen,) and betwixt them 
 and their own country. He proposed, in short, to force his 
 enemies eastward towards the Vistula, as at Jena he had 
 compelled the Prussians to fight with their rear turned to the 
 Rhine. Bernadotte had orders to' engage the attention of 
 Bennigsen upon the right, and detain him in his present 
 situation, or rather, if possible, induce him to advance east- 
 ward towards Thorn, so as to facilitate the operation he 
 meditated. The Russian general learned Buonaparte's 
 intention from an intercepted dispatch, and changed his 
 purpose of advancing on Ney and Bernadotte. Marches 
 and counter-marches took place, through a country at all 
 times difficult, and now covered with snow. The experience 
 and dexterity of the French secured some advantages, but 
 these were counter-balanced by the daily annoyance and loss 
 which they in turn sustained from PlatofF and his Cossacks. 
 In cases where the French retreated, the Scythian lances 
 
Chap, xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 191 
 
 were always on their rear; and when the Russians retired in 
 turn, and were pursued by the French, with the same ven- 
 turous spirit which they had displayed against others, the 
 latter seldom failed to suffer for their presumption. There 
 was found in the spearmen of the Don and Wolga a natural 
 and instinctive turn for military statagem, ambuscade and 
 sudden assault, which compelled the French light troops to 
 adopt a caution, very different from their usual habits of 
 audacity. Bennigsen was aware that it was the interest of 
 Russia to protract the campaign in this manner. He was 
 near his reinforcements, the French were distant from theirs 
 — every loss, therefore, told more in proportion on the ememy, 
 than on his army. On the other hand, the Russian army, 
 impatient of protracted hostilities, became clamorous for battle, 
 for the hardships of their situation were such as to give them 
 every desire to bring the war to a crisis. The defects of the 
 Russian commissariat were especially manifest during those 
 campaigns, when the leader was obliged more than once, merely 
 from want of provisions, to peril the fate of the war upon a gen- 
 eral battle, which prudence would have induced him to avoid. 
 In those northern latitudes, and in the month of February, 
 the troops had no resource but to prowl about, and dio- for the 
 hoards of provision concealed by the peasants. This labor 
 added to their military duty, left them scarcely time to lie 
 down; and when they did so, they had no bed but the snow, 
 no shelter but the wintry heaven, and no covering but their 
 rags. The distresses of the army were so extreme, that it 
 induced General Bennigsen, against his judgment, to give 
 battle at all risks, and for this purpose to concentrate his 
 forces at Preuss-Eylau, which was pitched upon as the field 
 on which he proposed to await Buonaparte. 
 
 In marching through Landsberg to occupy the selected 
 ground, the Russian rear-guard was exposed to a serious 
 attack by the French, and was only saved from great loss by 
 the gallantry of Prince Bagration, who redeemed, by sheer 
 dint of fighting, the loss sustained by want of conduct in 
 defiling through the streets of a narrow village, while pursued 
 by an enterprising enemy. The Russian army lost 3000 men. 
 On the 7th of February, the same gallant prince, with the 
 Russian rear-guard, gained such decided advantages over the 
 French van as nearly balanced the loss at Landsberg, and 
 gave time for the whole army to march through the town of 
 Preuss-Eylau, and to take up a position behind it. It had 
 been intended to maintain the town itself, and a body of 
 
192 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xiv. 
 
 troops had been left for that purpose; but in the confusion 
 attending the movement of so large an army, the orders 
 issued had been misunderstood, and the division designed for 
 this service evacuated the place as soon as the rear guard had 
 passed through it. 
 
 A Russian division was hastily ordered to re-occupy Preuss- 
 Eylau. They found the French already in possession, and, al- 
 though they dislodged them, were themselves driven out in turn 
 by another division of French, to whom Buonaparte had prom- 
 ised the plunder of the town. A third division of Russians 
 was ordered to advance; for Bennigsen was desirous to 
 protract the contest for the town until the arrival of his 
 heavy artillery, which joined him by a different route. When 
 it came up, he would have discontinued the struggle for the 
 possession of Preuss-Eylau, but it was impossible to control 
 the ardor of the Russian columns, who persevered in ad- 
 vancing with drums beating, rushed into the town, and, sur- 
 prising the French in the act of sacking it, put many of them 
 to the bayonet, even in the acts of license which they were 
 practising. Preuss-Eylau, however, proved no place of 
 shelter. It was protected by no works of any kind; and the 
 French advancing under cover of the hillocks and broken 
 ground which skirt the village, threw their fire upon the 
 streets, by which the Russians sustained some loss. General 
 Barclay de Tolly was wounded, and his forces again evacu- 
 ated the town, which was once more and finally occupied by 
 the French. Night fell, and the combat ceased, to be renew- 
 ed with treble fury on the next day. 
 
 The position of the two armies may be easily described. — 
 That of Russia occupied a space of uneven ground, about 
 two miles in length and a mile in depth, with the village of 
 Serpallen on their left; in the front of their army lay the town 
 of Preuss-Eylau, situated in a hollow, and in possession of 
 the French. It was watched by a Russian division; which, 
 to protect the Russian centre from being broken by an attack 
 from that quarter, was strongly reinforced, though by doing 
 so the right wing was considerably weakened. This was 
 thought of the less consequence, that L'Estocq, with his 
 division of Prussians was hourly expected to join the Russians 
 on that point. The French occupied Eylau with their left, 
 while their centre and right lay parallel to the Russ.ians, upon 
 a chain of heights which commanded in a great measure the 
 ground possessed by the enemy. They also expected to be 
 reinforced by the division of Ney, which had not yet come up, 
 
Chap, xiv,] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 193 
 
 and which was destined to form on the extreme left. The 
 space betwixt the hostile armies was open and flat, and inter- 
 sected with frozen lakes. They might trace each other's 
 position by the pale glimmer of the watch-lights upon the 
 snow. 
 
 This eventful action commenced with day-break on the 8th 
 of February. Two strong columns of the French advanced 
 with the purpose of turning the right, and storming the centre 
 of the Russians, at one and the same time. But they were 
 driven back in great disorder by the heavy and sustained fire 
 of the Russian artillery. An attack on the Russian left was 
 equally unsuccessful. The Russian infantry stood like stone 
 ramparts — they repulsed the enemy — their cavalry came to 
 their support, pursued the retiring assailants, and took stand- 
 ards and eagles. About mid-day, a heavy storm of snow 
 began to fall, which the wind drove right in the face of the 
 Russians, and which added to the obscurity caused by the 
 smoke of the burning village of Serpallen, that rolled along 
 the line. Under cover of the darkness, six columns of the 
 French advanced with artillery and cavalry, and were close on 
 the Russian position ere they were opposed. Bennigsen, at the 
 head of his staff, brought up the reserves in person, who, uni- 
 ting with the first line, Dore the French back at the point of the 
 bayonet. Their columns, partly broken, were driven again 
 to their own position, where they rallied with difficulty. A 
 French regiment of cuirassiers, which during this part of the 
 action, had gained an interval in the Russian army, were 
 charged by the Cossacks, and found their defensive armour 
 no protection against the lance. They were all slain except 
 eighteen. 
 
 At the moment when victory appeared to declare for the 
 Russians, it was on the point of being wrested from them. — 
 Davoust's division had been manoeuvring since the beginning 
 of the action, to turn the left, and gain the rear, of the 
 Russian line. They now made their appearance on the field 
 of battle with such sudden effect, that Serpallen was lost, the 
 Russian left wing, and a part of their centre, were thrown 
 into disorder, and forced to retire and change their front, so 
 as to form almost at right angles with their right, and that 
 part of the centre which retained their original position. At 
 this crisis, and while the French were gaining ground on the 
 rear of the Russians, L'Estocq, so long expected, appeared 
 in his turn suddenly on the field, and passing the left of the 
 French, and the right of the Russians, pushed down in three 
 
 9 
 
194 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xiv 
 
 columns to redeem the battle on the Russian centre and rear 
 The Prussians under their gallant leader, regained in this 
 bloody field their ancient military reputation. They never 
 fired till within a few paces of the enemy, and then used the 
 bayonet with readiness and courage. They redeemed the 
 ground which the Russians had lost, and drove back in their 
 turn the troops of Davoust and Bernadotte, who had been 
 lately victorious. 
 
 Ney, in the meanwhile, appeared on the field, and occupied 
 Schloditten, a village on the road to Konigsberg. As this 
 endangered the communication of the Russians with that 
 town, it was thought necessary to carry it by storm; a gallant 
 resolution, which was successfully executed. This was the 
 last act of that bloody day. It was ten o'clock at night, and 
 the combat was ended. 
 
 After fourteen hours of fighting, either army occupied the 
 same position as in the morning. Twelve of Napoleon's 
 eagles were in the hands of Bennigsen, and the field between 
 was covered with 50,000 corpses, of whom at least half were 
 French. Either leader claimed the victory, Bennigsen 
 exhibiting as a proof of his success the twelve eagles which 
 his army, admitted to be inferior in numbers, bore off the 
 field; Buonaparte, that he kept possession of the field, while 
 the enemy retired, the very night after the battle, from Eylau 
 towards Konigsberg. It was, in truth, a drawn battle; and 
 to have found an equal was sufficient bitterness to Napoleon. 
 The Russian general-in-chief had retreated, in opposition to 
 the opinion of most of his council, out of anxiety for the 
 personal safety of the king of Prussia at Konigsberg, and 
 desire to recruit his army ere another great action should be 
 hazarded. The French, triumphant as was the language of 
 their bulletins, made no effort to pursue. Bennigsen con- 
 ducted his army in perfect order to Konigsberg, and the Cos- 
 sacks issuing from that city continued for more than a week 
 to waste the country according to their pleasure, without any 
 show of opposition from the French. But the best proof 
 how severely Napoleon had felt the struggle of Preuss-Eylau, 
 is to be found in a communication which he made to Freder- 
 ick William, on the 13th of February, five days after the 
 battle, offering him, in effect, the complete, or nearly com- 
 plete restoration of his dominions, provided he would accept 
 of a separate peace: with the king's answer; namely, that 
 it wag impossible for him to enter on any treaty unless the 
 Czar were a party in it. Finally on the 19th of February, 
 
Chap, xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 195 
 
 Napoleon left Eylau, and reteated with his whole army on 
 the Vistula. The soldiery and peasantry had, since the battle, 
 been continually employed in burying the dead; the ground 
 was still covered with human carcasses, and many parts of 
 the road to Landsberg were literally paved with frozen and 
 encrusted bodies, which the returning cannon wheels had 
 lacerated and deformed. Napoleon was well satisfied that it 
 would be fatal rashness to engage in another campaign in 
 Poland, while several fortified towns, and above all, Dantzic 
 held out in his rear, and determined to have possession of 
 these places, and to summon new forces from France, ere he 
 should again meet in the field such enemies as the Russians 
 had proved to be. 
 
 Dantzic was defended with the more desperate resolution, 
 because it was expected that, as soon the season permitted, 
 an English fleet and army would certainly be sent to its relief. 
 But the besiegers having a prodigious superiority of numbers, 
 and being conducted with every advantage of skill, the place 
 was at legth compelled to surrender, on the 7th of May; after 
 which event, Napoleon's extraordinary exertions in hurrying 
 supplies from France, Switzerland and the Rhine country, 
 and the addition of the division of 25,000, which had captur- 
 ed Dantzic, enabled him to take the field again at the head of 
 not less than 280,000 men. The Russian general also had 
 done what was in his power to recruit, his army during this 
 interval; but his utmost zeal could effect no more than bring- 
 ing his muster up again to its original point — 90,000 men; the 
 chief blame lying, as it was alleged, with the coldness of 
 the English cabinet, who, instead of lavishing gold on the 
 Emperor of Russia, as had been done in other similar cases, 
 were with difficulty, it is said, persuaded to grant him, at this 
 critical time, so small a supply as £80,000. Russia has men 
 to any amount at her command; but the poverty of the na- 
 tional purse renders it all times very difficult for her to main- 
 tain a large army in a distant contest. 
 
 The Russians however, were the first assailants, making a 
 combined movement on Ney's division, which was stationed 
 at Gutstadt, and in the vicinity. They pursued him as far as 
 Deppen, where there was some fighting; but upon the 8th of 
 June, Napoleon advanced in person to extricate his Marshal, 
 and Benrtigsen was obliged to retreat in his turn. He was 
 hardly pressed on the rear by the Grand Army of France. — 
 But even in this moment of peril, Platoff", with his Cossacks, 
 made a charge, or, in their phrase, a hourra, upon the French, 
 
196 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xiv. 
 
 with such success, that they not only dispersed the skirmish- 
 ers of the French van-guard, and the advanced troops des- 
 tined to support them, but compelled the infantry to form 
 squares, endangered the personal safety of Napoleon, and 
 occupied the attention of the whole French cavalry, who 
 bore down on them at full speed. Musketry and artillery 
 were all turned on them at once, but to little or no purpose; 
 for, having once gained the purpose of checking the advance, 
 which was all they aimed at, the cloud of Cossacks dispersed 
 over the field, like mist before the sun, and united behind the 
 battalions whom their demonstration had protected. 
 
 By this means PlatofF and his followers had got before the 
 retreating division of the Russian army under Bagration, 
 which they were expected to support, and had reached first a 
 bridge over the Aller. The .Cossacks were alarmed by the 
 immense display of force demonstrated against them, and 
 showed a disposition to throw themselves confusedly on the 
 bridge, which must certainly have been attended with the most 
 disastrous consequences to the rear-guard, who would thus 
 have been impeded in their retreat by the very troops ap- 
 pointed to support them. The courage and devotion of 
 Platoff prevented that great misfortune. He threw himself 
 from his horse. " Let the Cossack that is base enough," 
 he exclaimed, "desert his Hettman!" The children of the 
 wilderness halted around him, and he disposed of them in 
 perfect order to protect the retreat of Bagration and the rear- 
 guard, and afterwards achieved his own retreat with trifling 
 loss. 
 
 The Russian army fell back upon Heilsberg, and there 
 concentrating their forces, made a most desperate stand. — 
 A very hard-fought action here took place. The Russians, 
 overpowered by superior numbers, and forced from the level 
 ground, continued to defend with fury their position on the 
 heights, which the French made equally strenuous efforts to 
 carry by assault. The combat was repeatedly renewed, with 
 cavalry, infantry and artillery; but without the fiery valor of 
 the assailants making any effectual impression on the iron 
 ranks of the Russians. The battle continued, till the ap- 
 proach of midnight, upon terms of equality; and when the 
 morning dawned, the 'space of ground between the position 
 of the Russians and that of the French, was not merely 
 strewed, but literally sheeted over, with the bodies of the 
 dead and wounded. The Russians retired unmolested after 
 the battle of Heilsberg, and, crossing the river Aller, placed 
 
Chais xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 197 
 
 that barrier between them and the army of Buonaparte, which 
 though it had suffered great losses, had, in consequence of 
 the superiority of numbers, been less affected by them than 
 the Russian forces. In the condition of Bennigsen's army, 
 it was his obvious policy to protract the war, especially as 
 reinforcements, to the number of thirty thousand men, were 
 approaching the frontier from the interior of the empire. It 
 was probably with this view that he kept his army on the 
 right bank of the Aller, with the exception of a few bodies 
 of cavalry, for the sake of observation and intelligence. 
 
 On the 13th, the Russian army reached Friedland, a con- 
 siderable town on the west side of the Aller, communicating 
 with the eastern, or right bank of the river, by a long wooden 
 bridge. It was the object of Napoleon to induce the Russian 
 general to pass by this narrow bridge to the left bank, and 
 then to decoy him into a general action, in a position where 
 the difficulty of defiling through the town, and over the 
 bridge, must render retreat almost impossible. For this 
 purpose he showed such a proportion only of his forces, as 
 induced General Bennigsen to believe that the French troops 
 on the western side of the Aller consisted only of Oudinot's 
 division, which had been severely handled in the battle of 
 Heilsberg, and which he now hoped altogether to destroy. — 
 Under this deception he ordered a Russian division to pass 
 the bridge, defile through the town, and march to the assault. 
 The French took care to offer no such resistance as should 
 intimate their real strength. Bennigsen was thus led to 
 reinforce this division with another — the battle thickened, and 
 the Russian general at length transported all his army, one 
 division excepted, to the left bank of the Aller, by means of 
 the wooden bridge and three pontoons, and arrayed them in 
 front of the town of Friedland, to overpower as he supposed, 
 the crippled division of the French, to which alone he be- 
 lieved himself opposed. 
 
 But no sooner had he taken this irretrievable step than the 
 mask was dropped. The French skirmishers advanced in 
 force; heavy columns of infantry began to show themselves; 
 batteries of cannon were got into position; and all circum- 
 stances concurred, with the report of prisoners, to assure 
 Bennigsen, that he, with his enfeebled forces, was in presence 
 of the grand French army. His position, a sort of plain, 
 surrounded by woods and broken ground, was difficult to 
 defend; with the town and a large river in his rear, it was 
 dangerous to attempt a retreat, and to advance was prevented 
 
j 98 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Cha?. xiv. 
 
 by the inequality of his force. Bennigsen now became 
 anxious to maintain his communication with Wehlau, a .town 
 on the Preset, which was the original point of retreat, and 
 where he hoped to join with the Prussians under General 
 L'Estocq If the enemy should seize the bridge at Aller- 
 berg some miles lower down the Aller than Friedland, this 
 planwou^d become impossible, and he found himself there- 
 fore obliged to diminish his forces, by detaching six thousand 
 men to defend that point. With the remainder of his force 
 he resolved to maintain his present position till night 
 
 The French advanced to the attack about ten o clock.— 
 The broken and wooded country which they occupied, enabled 
 them to maintain and renew their efforts at pleasure while 
 the Russians in their exposed situation, could not make the 
 slightest movement without being observed. Yet they fought 
 with such obstinate valor, that about noon the French seemed 
 sickenincr of the contest, and about to retire. But this was 
 only a feint, to repose such of their forces as had been en- 
 gaged, and to bring up reinforcements. The cannonade con- 
 tinued till about half past four, when Buonaparte brought up 
 his full force in person, for the purpose of one of those des- 
 perate and generally irresistible efforts to which he was wont 
 to trust the decision of a doubtful day. Columns of enor- 
 mous power, and extensive depth, appeared partially visible 
 among the interstices of the wooded country, and seen from 
 the town of Friedland, the hapless Russian army looked as if 
 surrounded by a deep semicircle of glittering steel: The 
 attack upon all the line, with cavalry, infantry and artillery, 
 was general and simultaneous, the French advancing with 
 shouts of assured victory; while the Russians, weakened by 
 the loss of at least twelve thousand killed and wounded, were 
 obliged to attempt that most dispiriting and dangerous of 
 movements— a retreat through encumbered defiles, in front of 
 a superior enemy. The principal attack was on the left wing, 
 where the Russian position was at length forced. The troops 
 which composed it streamed into the town and crowded the- 
 bridge and pontoons; the enemy thundered on their rear, 
 and without the valor of Alexander's Imperial Guards, the 
 Russians would have been utterly destroyed These brave 
 soldiers charged with the bayonet the corps of JNey who led 
 the French van-guard, disordered his column, and, though 
 they were overpowered by numbers, prevented the total ruin 
 
 of the left wing. 
 
 Meanwhile the bridge and pontoons were set on nre, to 
 
Chap, xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 199 
 
 prevent the "French, who had forced their way into the town, 
 from taking possession of them. The smoke rolling over the 
 combatants, increased the horror and confusion of the scene; 
 yet a considerable part of the Russian infantry escaped 
 through a ford close by the town, which was discovered in the 
 moment of defeat. The Russian centre and right, who remain- 
 ed on the west bank of the Aller, effected a retreat by a 
 circuitous route, leaving on the right the town of Friedland, 
 with its burning bridges, no longer practicable for friend or 
 foe, and passing the Aller by a ford considerably further 
 down the river. This also was found out in the very moment 
 of extremity, — was deep and dangerous, — took the infantry 
 up to the breast, and destroyed what ammunition was left in 
 the tumbrils. 
 
 The results of the battle of Friedland, were however, as 
 great as could have been expected from any victory. On 
 the retreat of Bennigsen towards the Niemen, the unfortu- 
 nate king of Prussia, evacuating Konigsberg, where he now 
 perceived it must be impossible to maintain himself, sought a 
 last and precarious shelter in the seaport of Memel; and the 
 Emperor Alexander, overawed by the genius of Napoleon, 
 which had triumphed over troops more resolute than had ever 
 before opposed him, and alarmed for the consequences of 
 some decisive measure towards the re-organization of the 
 Poles as a nation, began to think seriously of peace. Buona- 
 parte, on his part also, had many reasons for being anxious 
 to bring hostilities to a close. The Swedish king was in 
 Pomerania, besieging Stralsund, and hourly expecting rein- 
 forcements from England, which might have ended in a 
 formidable diversion in the rear of the French army. Schill, 
 an able partisan, was in arms in Prussia, where the general 
 discontent was such, that nothing but opportunity seemed 
 wanting for a national insurrection against the conquerors. — ■ 
 The further advance of the French towards the north could 
 hardly have failed to afford such an opportunity. Neither 
 could this be executed, to all appearance, without involving 
 the necessity of proclaiming the independence of Poland; 
 thereby giving a character of mortal rancour to the war with 
 Russia, and in all likelihood calling Austria once more into the 
 field. Under such circumstances the minds of Napoleon and 
 Alexander were equally disposed towards negotiation; Gen- 
 eral Bennigsen sent, on the 21st of June,* to demand an 
 armistice; and to this proposal the victor of Friedland yield- 
 ed immediate assent. 
 
 y 
 
200 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xiv. 
 
 The armistice was ratified on the 23d of June, and on the 
 25th the Emperors of France and Russia met personally, 
 each accompanied by a few attendants, on a raft moored on 
 the river Niemen, near the town of Tilsit. The sovereigns 
 embraced each other, and retiring under a canopy had a long 
 conversation, to which -no one was a witness. At its termi- 
 nation the appearances of mutual good-will and confidence 
 were marked; immediately afterward the town of Tilsit was 
 neutralized, and the two Emperors established their courts 
 there, and lived together, in the midst of the lately hostile 
 armies, more like old friends who had met on a party of 
 pleasure, than enemies and rivals, attempting by diplomatic 
 means the arrangement of differences which had for years 
 been deluging Europe with blood. Whatever flatteries could 
 be suggested by the consummate genius and mature experi- 
 ence of Napoleon, were lavished, and produced their natural 
 effects, on the mind of a young autocrat, of great ambition, 
 and as great vanity. The intercourse of the Emperors 
 assumed by degrees the appearance of a brotherlike intima- 
 cy. They spent their mornings in reviewing each other's 
 troops, or in unattended rides; their evenings seemed to be 
 devoted to the pleasures of the table, the spectacle, music, 
 dancing and gallantry. Meantime, the terms of a future 
 alliance were in effect discussed and settled, much more 
 rapidly than could have been expected from any of the usual 
 apparatus of diplomatic negotiation. 
 
 The treaty of Tilsit, to which as the document itself bore 
 testimony, the king of Prussia was admitted as a party solely 
 by reason of Napoleon's " esteem for the Emperor of Rus- 
 sia," was ratified on the 7th of July. Napoleon restored, by 
 this act, to Frederick William, ancient Prussia and the 
 French conquests in Upper Saxony — the king agreeing to 
 adopt " the continental system," in other words, to be hence- 
 forth the vassal of the conqueror. The Polish provinces of 
 Prussia were erected into a separate principality, styled "the 
 grand dutchy of Warsaw," and bestowed on the Elector of 
 Saxony; with the exception, however, of some territories 
 assigned to Russia, and of Dantzic, which was declared a 
 free city, to be garrisoned by French troops until the ratifica- 
 tion of a maritime peace. The Prussian dominions in Lower 
 Saxony and on the Rhine, with Hanover, Hesse Cassel, and 
 various other small states, formed a new kingdom of West- 
 phalia, of which Jerome Buonaparte, Napoleon's youngest 
 brother, was recognised as king; Jerome having at length 
 
Chap, xiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 201 
 
 made his peace with his brother by repudiating his wife, an 
 American lady oT the name of Patterson, and consenting to a 
 new alliance, more consonant with the views of the Emperor, 
 with a daughter of the king of Wirtemberg. The Elector of 
 Saxony was recognised as another king of Napoleon's crea- 
 tion; Joseph Buonaparte as king of Naples; and Louis, of 
 Holland. Finally, Russia accepted the mediation of France 
 for a peace with Turkey, and France that of Russia for a 
 peace with England. 
 
 There seems to be little doubt that Napoleon broached at 
 Tilsit the dazzling scheme of dividing the European world 
 virtually between the two great monarchs of France and 
 Russia; and that the Czar, providing he were willing to look 
 on, while his Imperial brother of the west subjected Spain, 
 Portugal and England to his yoke, was induced to count on 
 equal forbearance, whatever schemes he might venture on for 
 his own aggrandizement, at the expense of the smaller states 
 of the north of Europe, and, above all, of the Ottoman 
 porte. Napoleon, having left strong garrisons in the mari- 
 time cities of Poland and Northern Germany, returned to 
 Paris in August, and was received by the senate and other 
 public bodies with all the triumph and excess of adulation. — 
 The Swedish king abandoned Pomerania immediately on 
 hearing of the treaty of Tilsit. In effect, the authority of 
 the Emperor appeared now to be consolidated over the whole 
 continent of Europe. 
 
 The fortunes and fame of Napoleon were, indeed, such as 
 to excite in the highest degree the veneration with which 
 men look upon talents and success. All opposition seemed 
 to sink before him, and fortune seemed only to have looked 
 doubtfully upon him during the last campaign, in order to ren- 
 der still brighter the auspicious aspect by which he closed it. 
 Many of his most confirmed enemies, who, from their proved 
 attachment to the House of Bourbon, had secretly disowned 
 the authority of Buonaparte, and doubted the continuance of 
 his success, when they saw Prussia lying at his feet, and 
 Russia clasping his hand in friendship, conceived they should 
 be struggling against the decrees of Providence, did they 
 longer continue to resist their predestined master. Austerlitz 
 had shaken their constancy; Tilsit destroyed it; and with 
 few and silent exceptions, the vows, hopes and wishes of 
 ^rance, seemed turned on Buonaparte as her Heir by 
 
 estiny. Perhaps he himself, only, could finally have dis- 
 appointed their expectations. But he was like the adventur- 
 
 9* 
 
202 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xv. 
 
 ous climber of the Alps, to whom the surmounting the most 
 tremendous precipices, and ascending to the most towering 
 peaks, only shows yet dimer heights and higher points of 
 elevation. 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Relations of Napoleon with Spain. Treaty of Fontainbleau. Junot 
 marches to Portugal. Flight of the Royal Family to Brazil. French 
 proceed into Spain. Murat occupies Madrid. Charles and Ferdinand 
 abdicate at Bayonne. Joseph Buonaparte declared King of Spain. 
 
 The vast extent to which the prohibited manufactures and 
 colonial produce of England found their way into every 
 district of the Spanish peninsula, and especially of Portugal, 
 and thence, through the hands of whole legions of audacious 
 smugglers into France itself, ere long fixed the attention and 
 resentment of Napoleon. In truth, a proclamation issued at 
 Madrid shortly before the battle of Jena, and suddenly re- 
 called on the intelligence of that great victory, had prepared 
 the Emperor to regard with keen suspicion the conduct of the 
 Spanish court, and to trace every violation of his system to 
 its deliberate and hostile connivance.* 
 
 This court presented in itself the lively image of a divided 
 and degraded nation. The king, old and almost incredibly 
 imbecile, was ruled absolutely by his queen, a woman auda- 
 ciously unprincipled, whose strong and wicked passions again 
 were entirely under the influence of Manuel Godoy, iC Prince 
 of the Peace," raised, by her guilty love, from the station of 
 a private guardsman to precedence above all the grandees of 
 Spain, a matrimonial connexion with the royal house, and the 
 supreme conduct of affairs. She, her paramour, and the 
 degraded king were held in contempt and hatred by a power- 
 ful party, at the head of whom were the canon Escoiquiz, the 
 duke del Infantado, and Ferdinand, prince of Asturias, heir 
 of the throne. The scenes of dissension which rilled the 
 palace and court were scandalous beyond all contemporary 
 examples; and the strength of the two parties vibrating in 
 the ^ tale, according as corrupt calculators looked to the 
 
Chap, xv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 203 
 
 extent of Godoy's present power, or to the probability of 
 Ferdinand's accession, the eyes of both were turned to the 
 hazardous facility of striking a balance by calling in support 
 from the Tuilleries. Napoleon, on his part, regarding the 
 rival factions with equal scorn, flattered himself that, in their 
 common fears and baseness, he should find the means of ulti- 
 mately reducing the whole peninsula to complete submission 
 under his own yoke. 
 
 The secret history of the intrigues of 1807, between the 
 French court and the rival parties in Spain, has not yet been 
 clearly exposed; nor is it likely to be so while most of the 
 chief agents survive. According to Buonaparte, the first 
 proposal for conquering Portugal by the united arms of 
 France and Spain, and dividing that monarchy into three 
 separate prizes, of which one should fall to the disposition of 
 France, a second to the Spanish king, and a third reward the 
 personal exertions of Godoy, came not from him, but from 
 the Spanish minister. The treaty was ratified at Fontain- 
 bleau on the 29th of October, 1807, and accompanied by a 
 convention, which provided for the immediate invasion of 
 Portugal by a force of 28,000 French soldiers, under the or- 
 ders of Junot, and of 27,000 Spaniards; while a reserve of 
 40,000 French troops were to be assembled at Bayonne, 
 ready to take the field by the end of November, in case 
 England should land an army for the defence of Portugal, or 
 the people of that devoted country presume to meet Junot by 
 a national insurrection. 
 
 Junot forthwith commenced his march through Spain, 
 where the French soldiery were received every where with 
 coldness and suspicion, but no where by any hostile move- 
 ment of the people. He would have halted at Salamanca to 
 organize his army, which consisted mostly of young con- 
 scripts, but Napoleon's policy outmarched the schemes of 
 his general, and the troops were, in consequence of a pe- 
 remptory order from Paris, poured into Portugal in the latter 
 part of November. Godoy's contingent of Spaniards appear- 
 ed there also, and placed themselves under Junot's command. 
 Their numbers overawed the population, and they advanced, 
 unopposed, towards the capital — Junot's most eager desire 
 being to secure the persons of the prince-regent and the roy- 
 al family. The feeble government, meantime, having made, 
 one by one, every degrading submission which France dicta- 
 ted, having expelled the British factory and the British minis- 
 ter, confiscated all English property, and shut the ports 
 
204 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xt. 
 
 t 
 against all English vessels, became convinced at length that 
 no measures of subserviency could avert the doom which 
 Napoleon had fulminated. A Moniteur, proclaiming that 
 " the house of Braganza had ceased to reign," reached Lis- 
 bon. The prince-regent re-opened his communication with 
 the English admiral off the Tagus (Sir Sydney Smith,) and 
 the lately expelled ambassador (Lord Strangford,) and being 
 assured of their protection, embarked on the 27th of Novem- 
 ber, and sailed for the Brazils on the 29th, only a few hours 
 before Junot made his appearance at the gates of Lisbon. — 
 The disgust with which the Portuguese people regarded this 
 flight, the cowardly termination, as they might not unnatural- 
 ly regard it, of a long course of meanness, was eminently 
 useful to the invader. With the exception of one trivial in- 
 surrection, when the conqueror took down the Portuguese 1 
 arms and set up those of Buonaparte in their place, sev- 
 eral months passed in apparent tranquility; and of these 
 the general made skilful use, in perfecting the discipline of 
 his conscripts, improving the fortifications on the coast, and 
 making such a disposal of his force as might best guard the 
 country from any military demonstration on the part of Eng- 
 land. 
 
 Napoleon thus saw Portugal in his grasp; but that he had 
 all along considered as a point of minor importance, and he 
 had accordingly availed himself of the treaty of Fontain- 
 bleau, without waiting for any insurrection of the Portuguese, 
 or English debarkation on their territory. His army of re- 
 serve, in number far exceeding the 40,000 men named in the 
 treaty, had already passed the Pyrenees, in two bodies, under 
 the orders of Dupont and Moncey, and were advancing slow- 
 ly, but steadily into the heart of Spain. Nay, without even 
 the pretext of being mentioned in the treaty, another French 
 army of 12,000, under Duhesme, had penetrated through the 
 eastern Pyrenees, and being received as friends among the 
 unsuspecting garrisons, obtained possession of Barcelona, 
 Pampeluna, St. Sebastian v and the other fortified places in the 
 north of Spain. The armies then pushed forward, and the 
 chief roads leading from the French frontiers to Madrid were 
 entirely in their possession. 
 
 It seems impossible that such daring movements should 
 not have awakened the darkest suspicions at Madrid; yet the 
 royal family, overlooking the common danger about to over- 
 whelm them and their country, continued, during three 
 
Chap, xv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 205 
 
 eventful months, to waste what energies they possessed in 
 petty conspiracies, domestic broils, and, incredible as the tale 
 will hereafter appear, in the meanest diplomatic intrigues 
 with the court of France. The prince of Asturias solicited 
 the honor of a wife from the house of Napoleon. The old 
 king, or rather Godoy, invoked anew the assistance of the 
 Emperor against the treasonable, nay (for to such extremities 
 went their mutual accusations,) the parricidal plots of the 
 heir apparent. Buonaparte listened to both parties, vouchsaf- 
 ed no direct answer to either, and continued to direct the 
 onward movement of those stern arbiters, who were ere long 
 to decide the question. A sudden panic at length seized the 
 king or his minister, and the court, then at Aranjuez, prepar- 
 ed to retire to Seville, and, sailing from thence to America, 
 seek safety, after the example of the house of Braganza, in 
 the work of whose European ruin they had so lately been 
 accomplices. The servants of the prince of Asturias, on 
 perceiving the preparations for this flight, commenced a tu- 
 mult, in which the populace of Aranjuez readily joined, and 
 which was only pacified (for the moment) by a royal declara- 
 tion that no flight was contemplated. On the 18th of March, 
 the day following, a scene of like violence took place in the 
 capital itself. The house of Godoy in Madrid was sacked. — 
 The favorite himself was assaulted at Aranjuez, on the 19th; 
 with great difficulty saved his life by the intervention of the 
 royal guards; and was placed under arrest. Terrified by 
 what he saw at Aranjuez, and heard from Madrid, Charles 
 IV, abdicated the throne, and on the 20th, Ferdinand, his 
 son, was proclaimed king at Madrid, amid a tumult of popular 
 applause. Murat, grand duke of Berg, had ere this assumed 
 the chief command of all the French troops in Spain; and 
 hearing of the extremities to which the court factions had 
 gone, he now moved rapidly on Madrid, surrounded that capi- 
 tal with 30,000 troops, and took possession of it in person, at 
 the head of 10,000 more, on the 23d of March. Charles IV, 
 meantime, dispatched messengers both to Napoleon and to 
 Murat, asserting that his abdication had been involuntary, and 
 invoking their assistance against his son. Ferdinand, enter- 
 ing Madrid on the 24th, found the French general in posses- 
 sion of the capital and in vain claimed his recognition as 
 king. Murat accepted the sword of Francis I., which, amid 
 other adulations, Ferdinand offered to him; but pertinacious- 
 ly declined taking any part in the decision of the great 
 
206 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xv. 
 
 question, which demanded, as he said the fiat of Napoleon. — 
 The Emperor heard with much regret of the precipitancy 
 with which his lieutenant had occupied Madrid, for his clear 
 mind had foreseen ere now the imminent hazard of trampling 
 too rudely on the jealous pride of the Spaniards; and the 
 events of the 17th, 18th and 19th of March were well qualified 
 to confirm his impression, that though all sense of dignity and 
 decorum might be extinguished in the court, the ancient ele- 
 ments of national honor still remained, ready to be called into 
 action, among the body of the people. He, therefore, sent 
 Savary, in whose practised cunning he hoped to find a reme- 
 dy for the military rashness of Murat, to assume the chief 
 direction of affairs at Madrid; and the rumour was actively 
 spread, that the Emperor, was about to appear there in person 
 without delay. 
 
 Madrid occupied and begirt by forty thousand armed stran- 
 gers, his title unrecognised by Murat, his weak understand- 
 ing and tumultuous passions worked upon incessantly by the 
 craft of Savary, Ferdinand was at length persuaded, that his 
 best chance of securing the aid and protection of Napoleon 
 lay in advancing to meet him on his way to the capital, and 
 striving to gain his ear before the emissaries of Godoy should 
 be able to fill it with their reclamations. Savary eagerly of- 
 fered to accompany him on this fatal journey, which began on 
 the 10th of April. The infatuated Ferdinand had been taught 
 to believe that he should find Buonaparte at Burgos: not 
 meeting him there, he was tempted to pursue his journey as 
 far as Vittoria; and from thence, in spite of the populace, 
 who, more sagacious than their prince, cut the traces of his 
 carriage, he was induced to proceed stage by stage, and at 
 length to pass the frontier and present himself at Bayonne, 
 where the abiter of his fate lay anxiously expecting this con- 
 summation of his folly. He arrived there on the 20th of 
 April, and was received by Napoleon with courtesy, enter- 
 tained at dinner at the imperial table, and the same evening 
 informed by Savary that his doom was sealed — that the Bour- 
 bon dynasty had ceased to reign in Spain, and that his per- 
 sonal safety must depend on the readiness with which he 
 should resign all his pretensions into the hands of Buona- 
 parte. 
 
 He, meanwhile, as soon as he was aware that Ferdinand 
 had actually set out from Madrid, had ordered Murat to find 
 the means of causing the old king, the queen and Godoy to 
 repair also to Bayonne; nor does it appear that his lieutenant 
 
Chap, xv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 207 
 
 had any difficulty in persuading these personages, that in do- 
 ing so, they should adopt the course of conduct most in ac- 
 cordance with their interests. They reached Bayonne on 
 the 4th of May, and Napoleon, confronting the parents and 
 the son on the 5th, witnessed a scene in which the profligate 
 rancour of their domestic feuds reached extremities hardly to 
 have been contemplated by the wildest imagination. The 
 flagitious queen did not, it is said and believed, hesitate to 
 signify to her son, that the king was not his father— and this 
 in the presence of that king and of Napoleon. Charles IV, 
 resigned the crown of Spain for himself and his heirs, accept- 
 ing in return from the hands of Napoleon a safe retreat in 
 Italy, and a splendid pension. Godoy, who had entered into 
 the fatal negotiation of Fontainbleau, with the hope and the 
 promise of an independent sovereignty carved out of the 
 Portuguese dominions, was pensioned off in like manner, and 
 ordered to partake the Italian exile of his patrons. A few 
 days afterward, Ferdinand VII., being desired to choose at 
 length between compliance and death, followed the example 
 of his father, and executed a similar act of resignation. 
 
 Napoleon had not failed to measure from the beginning the 
 mighty dangers which surrounded his design. He had been 
 warned of them in the strongest manner by Talleyrand, and 
 even by Fouche: nay, he had himself written to rebuke the 
 headlong haste of Murat in occupying the Spanish capital — 
 to urge on him the necessity of conciliating the people, by 
 preserving a show of respect for their national authorities and 
 institutions — to represent the imminent hazard of permitting 
 the Duke del Infantado to strengthen and extend his paflty in 
 Madrid — and concluding with these ominous words: Remem- 
 ber, if war breaks out, all is lost. 
 
 Ferdinand, before he left Madrid, invested a council of 
 regency with the sovereign power, his uncle, Don Antonio, 
 being president, and Murat one of the members. Murat's 
 assumption of the authority thus conferred, the departure 
 of Ferdinand, the liberation and departure of the detested 
 Godoy, the flight of the old king — these occurrences pro- 
 duced their natural effects on the popular mind. A dark 
 suspicion that France meditated the destruction of the nation- 
 al independence, began to spread; and on the 2d of May, 
 when it transpired that preparations were making for the 
 journey of Don Antonio also, the general rage at last burst 
 out. A crowd collected round the carriage meant, as they 
 concluded, to convey the last of the royal family out of Spain, 
 
208 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xv. 
 
 the traces were cut; the imprecations against the French 
 were furious. Colonel La Grange, Murat's aid-de-camp, 
 happening to appear on the spot, was cruelly maltreated. In 
 a moment, the whole capital was in an uproar; the French 
 soldiery were assaulted every where — about 700 were slain. 
 The mob attacked the hospital — the sick and their attendants 
 rushed out and defended it. The French cavalry, hearing 
 the tumult, entered the city by the gate of Alcala — a column 
 of 3000 infantry from the other side by the street Ancha de 
 Bernardo. Some Spanish officers headed the mob, and fired 
 on the soldiery in the street of Maravalles; a bloody massa- 
 cre ensued; many hundreds were made prisoners; the troops 
 swept the streets from end to end, released their comrades, 
 and, to all appearance, tranquility was restored ere nightfall. 
 During the night, however, the peasantry flocked in armed 
 from the neighboring country; and being met at the gates 
 by the irritated soldiery, not a few more were killed, wound- 
 ed and made prisoners. Murat ordered all the prisoners to 
 be tried by a military commission, which doomed them to in- 
 stant death. » 
 
 This commotion had been preceded by a brief insurrection, 
 easily suppressed and not unlikely to be soon forgotten, on 
 the 23d of April, at Toledo. The events in the capital were 
 of a more decisive character, and the amount of the blood 
 shed, in itself great, was much exaggerated in the reports 
 which flew, like wildfire, throughout the peninsula — for the 
 French were as eager to overawe the provincial Spaniards, 
 by conveying an overcharged impression of the consequences 
 of resistance, as their enemies in Madrid were to rouse the 
 general indignation, by heightened details of the ferocity of the 
 invaders and the sternness of their own devotion. In almost 
 every town of Spain, and almost simultaneously, the flame of 
 patriotic resentment broke out in the terrible form of assassina- 
 tion. The French residents were slaughtered without mercy, 
 the supposed partisans of Buonaparte and Godoy (not a few 
 men of worth being confounded in their fate) were sacrificed 
 in the first tumult of popular rage. At Cadiz, Seville, Car- 
 thagena and above all in Valencia, the streets ran red with 
 blood. The dark and vindictive temper of the Spaniards, 
 covered the land with scenes, on the details of which it is 
 shocking to dwell. The French soldiery, hemmed in, insult- 
 ed, and, wherever they could be found separately, sacrificed 
 —often with every circumstance of savage torture — retorted 
 by equal barbarity whenever they had the means. Popular 
 
Chap, xv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 209 
 
 bodies (juntas) assumed the conduct of affairs in most of the 
 cities and provinces, renounced the yoke of France, repro- 
 claimed Ferdinand king, and at the maritime stations of chief 
 importance entered into communication with the English 
 fleets, from whom they failed not to receive pecuniary sup- 
 plies, and every encouragement to proceed in their measures. 
 Deputies were sent to England without delay; and welcomed 
 there with the utmost enthusiasm of sympathy and admira- 
 tion. 
 
 Napoleon received the intelligence with alarm; but he had 
 already gone too far to retract without disturbing the magical 
 influence of his reputation. He moreover, was willing to 
 flatter himself that the lower population of Spain alone took 
 an active part in these transactions; that the nobility, whose 
 degradation he could hardly over-estimate, would abide by 
 his voice; in a word, that with 80,000 troops in Spain, besides 
 Junot's army in Portugal, he possessed the means of sup- 
 pressing the tumult after the first effervescence should have 
 escaped. He proceeded, therefore, to act precisely as if no 
 insurrection had occurred. Tranquility being re-established 
 in Madrid, the council of Castile was convoked, and com- 
 manded to elect a new sovereign; their choice had of course 
 been settled beforehand: it fell on Joseph Buonaparte, King 
 of Naples; and ere it was announced, that personage was al- 
 ready on his way to Bayonne. Ninety-five notables of Spain 
 met him in that town; and swore fealty to him and a new 
 constitution. Joseph, on entering Spain, was met by une- 
 quivocal symptoms of scorn and hatred; but the main road 
 being strongly occupied throughout with his brother's troops ? 
 he reached Madrid in safety. 
 
210 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvi. 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Alliance of England with Spain and Portugal against France. Battle of 
 Riosecco. Joseph enters Madrid. Battle of Baylen. Dupont surren- 
 ders. Joseph quits Madrid. First siege of Zarragossa. British troops 
 land in Portugal. Battle of Rorica. Battle of Vimiero. Convention 
 of Cintra, and the French evacuate Portugal. Napoleon at Erfurt. — 
 Interview with Alexander. Arrives at Paris. Sends an army of two 
 hundred thousand men into Spain. Arrives at Vittoria. Successes of 
 Soult. Napoleon enters Madrid. Marches against the British under 
 Sir John Moore. Calamitous retreat of the British. Battle of Corun- 
 na, and death of Moore. Napoleon leaves Spain. 
 
 It now became the universal wish of Britain to afford the 
 Spaniards every possible assistance in their power. On the 
 4th of July the King addressed parliament on the subject, 
 and declared that Spain could no longer be considered the 
 enemy of Great Britain, but was recognised by him as a natural 
 friend and ally. The Spanish prisoners of war were forth- 
 with released, clothed, equipped and sent back to their coun- 
 try. Supplies of arms and money was liberally transmitted 
 thither, and Portugal catching the flame, and bursting into 
 general insurrection, a general treaty of alliance, offensive 
 and defensive, was soon concluded between England and the 
 two kingdoms of the peninsula. "Thus" says a distinguish- 
 ed writer, "• the two leading nations of the world were brought 
 into contact at a moment when both were disturbed by angry 
 passions, eager for great events, and possessed of surprising 
 power." 
 
 Napoleon, from the extent and population of his empire, 
 under the operation of the conscription code, was enabled 
 to maintain an army of 500,000 strong; but his relations 
 with those powers on the continent whom he had not entirely- 
 subdued were of the most unstable character, and even the 
 states which he had formally united to France were, without 
 exception, pregnant with the elements of disaffection. It was 
 therefore impossible for him to concentrate the whole of his 
 gigantic strength on the soil of Spain. His troops, moreover, 
 being drawn from a multitude of different countries and 
 tongues, could not be united in heart or in discipline like the 
 soldiers of a purely national army. On the other hand, the 
 military genius at his command has never been surpassed in 
 
Chap, xvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 211 
 
 any age or country: his officers were accustomed to victory, 
 and his own reputation exerted a magical influence over both 
 friends and foes. The pecuniary resources of the vast em- 
 Dire were great, and they were managed so skillfully by 
 Buonaparte, that the supplies were raised within the year, 
 and in a metalic currency. 
 
 At the moment when the insurrection occurred, 20,000 
 Spanish troops were in Portugal under the orders of Jur>ot; 
 15,000 more under the Marquis de Romana, were serving 
 JVapoleon in Holstein. There remained 40,000 Spanish 
 regulars, 11,000 Swiss and 30,000 militia; but of the best 
 of these, the discipline, when compared with French or 
 English armies, was contemptible. The nobility, to whose 
 order the chief officers belonged, were divided in their senti- 
 ments — perhaps the greater number inclined to the interests 
 of Joseph. Above all, the troops were scattered, in small 
 sections, over the face of the whole country, and there was 
 no probability that any one regular army should be able to 
 muster so strong as to withstand the efforts of a mere frag- 
 ment of the mighty French force already established within 
 the kingdom. The fleets of Spain had been destroyed in the 
 war with England: her commerce and revenues had been 
 mortally wounded by the alliance with France and the malad- 
 ministration of Godoy. Ferdinand was detained a prisoner 
 in France. There was no natural leader or chief, around 
 whom the whole energies of the nation might be expected to 
 rally. It was amid such adverse circumstances that the 
 Spanish people rose every where, against a French army, 
 already 80,000 strong, in possession of half the chief for- 
 tresses of the country, and in perfect communication with the 
 mighty resources of Buonaparte. 
 
 The Spanish arms were at first exposed to many reverses; 
 the rawness of their levies, and the insulated nature of their 
 movements, being disadvantages of which it was not difficult 
 for the experienced generals and overpowering numbers of 
 the French to reap a full and bloody harvest. After various 
 petty skirmishes, in which the insurgents of Arragon were 
 worsted by Lefebre Desnouettes, and those of Navarre and 
 Biscay by Bessieres, the latter officer came upon the united 
 armies of Castile, Leon and Galicia, commanded by the 
 generals Cuesta and Blake, on the 14th of July, at Riosecco, 
 and defeated them in a desperate action, in which not less 
 than 20,000 Spaniards died. This calamitous battle opened 
 the gates of Madrid to the new king — whose arrival in that 
 
212 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvi. 
 
 capital on the 20th of the same month has already been 
 mentioned. 
 
 But Joseph was not destined to remain long in Madrid: the 
 fortune of war, after the great day of Riosecco, was erery 
 where on the side of the patriots. Dahesme, who had pos- 
 sessed himself of Barcelona and Figueras, tound himself 
 surrounded by the Catalonian mountaineers, who, after vari- 
 ous affairs, in which much blood was shed on both sides, 
 compelled him to shut himself up in Barcelona. Marshal 
 Moncey conducted another large division of the French to- 
 wards Valencia, and was to have been further reinforced by a 
 detachment from Duhesme. The course of events in Cata- 
 lonia prevented Duhesme from affording any such assistance; 
 and the inhabitants of Valencia, male and female, rising 
 en masse, and headed by their clergy, manned their walls 
 with such determined resolution, that the French marshal 
 was at length compelled to commence his retreat. He fell 
 back upon the main body, under Bessieres, but did not effect 
 a conjunction with them until his troops had suffered misera- 
 bly in their march through an extensive district, in which 
 every inhabitant was a watchful enemy. 
 
 A far more signal catastrophe had befallen another power- 
 ful corps d'armee, under General Dupont, which marched 
 from Madrid towards the south, with the view of suppressing 
 all symptoms of insurrection in that quarter, and, above all 
 of securing the great naval station of Cadiz, where a French 
 squadron lay. Dupont's force was increased as he advanced 
 till it amounted to 20,000 men; and with these he took pos- 
 session of Baylen and La Carolina, in Andalusia, and storm- 
 ed Jaen. But ere he could make these acquisitions, the 
 citizens of Cadiz had universally taken the patriot side; the 
 commander of the French vessels had been forced to surren- 
 der them; and the place, having opened a communication 
 with the English fleet, assumed a posture of determined de- 
 fence. General Castannos, the Spanish commander in that 
 quarter, meanwhile, having held back from battle until his 
 raw troops should have had time to be disciplined, began at 
 length to threaten the position of the French. Jaen was at- 
 tacked by him with such vigor, that Dupont was fain to 
 evacuate it, and fall back to Baylen, where his troops soon, 
 began to suffer severe privations, the peasantry being in arms 
 all around them, and the supply of food becoming from day 
 to day more difficult. On the 16th of July, Dupont was at- 
 tacked at Baylen by Castannos, who knew from an intercept- 
 ed despatch the extent of his enemy's distress: the French 
 
Chap, xvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 213 
 
 were beaten, and driven as far as Menjibar. They returned 
 on the 18th, and attempted to recover Baylen; but, after a 
 long and desperate battle, in which 3000 of the French were 
 killed, Dupont, perceiving that the Spaniards were gathering 
 all around in numbers not to be resisted, proposed to capitu- 
 late. In effect, he and 20,000 soldiers laid down their arms 
 at Baylen, on condition that they should be transported in 
 safety into France. The Spaniards broke this convention, 
 and detained them as prisoners. This battle and capitulation 
 of Baylen were termed by the Emperor himself the " Caudine 
 forks" of the French army. The richest part of Spain was 
 freed wholly of its invaders; the light troops oT Castannos 
 pushed on, and swept the country before them; and within 
 ten days, Joseph perceived the necessity of quitting Madrid 
 and removed his head-quarters to Vittoria. 
 
 In the meantime, Lefebre Desnouettes, whose early suc- 
 cesses in Arragon has been alluded to, was occupied with the 
 siege of Zaragossa — the inhabitants of which city had risen 
 in the first out-break, and prepared to defend their walls to 
 the last extremity. Don Jose Palafox, a young nobleman of 
 no great talents, who had made his escape from Bayonne, was 
 invested with the command; but the real leaders were the 
 priests and some of the private cftizens, who selected him for 
 the nrominent place as belonging to a family of eminent distinc- 
 tion in their kingdom, but in effect considered and used him 
 as their tool. Some Spanish and Walloon regiments, who 
 had formed the garrisons of strong places treacherously 
 seized by the enemy ere the war commenced, had united 
 With Palafox, and various bloody skirmishes had occurred ere 
 the French general was enabled to shut them up in Zaragos- 
 sa. The seige was pressed with the utmost vigor; but the 
 immortal heroism of the citizens baffled the valor of the 
 French. There were no. regular works worthy of notice; 
 but the old Moorish walls, not above eight or ten feet in 
 height, and some extensive monastic buildings in the outskirts 
 of the city, being manned by crowds of determined men, 
 whose wives and daughters looked on, nay, mingled boldly in 
 their defence — the beseigers were held at bay week after 
 week, and saw their ranks thinned in continued assaults with- 
 out being able to secure any adequate advantage. Famine 
 came, and disease in its train, to aggravate the sufferings of 
 the towns-people; but they would listen to no suggestions but 
 those of the same proud spirit in which they had begun. The 
 French at length gained possession of the great convent of 
 
214 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvi. 
 
 St. Engracia, and thus established themselves within the 
 town itself; their general then sent Palafox this brief sum- 
 mons; " Hea-d-quarters, Santa Engracia — -capitulation;" but 
 he received for answer, " Head-quarters, Zaragossa — War 
 to the knife." The battle was maintained literally from 
 street to street, from house to house, and from chamber to 
 chamber. Men and women fought side by side, amid flames 
 and carnage; until Lefebre received the news of Baylen, and 
 having wasted two months in his enterprise, abandoned it 
 abruptly, lest he should find himself insulated amid the gen- 
 eral retreat of the French armies. Such was the first of the 
 two famous seiges of Zaragossa. 
 
 The English government, meanwhile, had begun their pre- 
 parations for interfering effectually in the affairs of the 
 peninsula. * They had despatched one body of troops to the 
 support of Castannos in Andalusia; but these did not reach 
 the south of Spain until their assistance was rendered un- 
 necessary by the surrender of Dupont at Baylen. A more 
 considerable force, amounting to 10,000 men, sailed early 
 in June from Cork, under the command of the Hon. Sir 
 Arthur Wellesley. On the 8th of August, 1808, he effected 
 his debarkation in the bay of Mondego. He immediately 
 commenced his march towards Lisbon, and on the 17th came 
 up with the enemy under General Laborde, strongly ousted 
 on an eminence near Rorica. The French contested their 
 ground gallantly, but were driven from it at the point of the 
 bayonet, and compelled to retreat. The British general, 
 having hardly any cavalry, was unable to pursue them so 
 closely as he otherwise would have done; and Laborde suc- 
 ceeded in joining his shattered division to the rest of the 
 French forces in Portugal. Junot (recently created duke of 
 Abrantes) now took the command in person; and finding 
 himself at the head of full 24,000 troops, did not hesitate to 
 assume the offensive. On the 21st of August he attacked 
 Sir Arthur at Vimiero. In the language of the English gen* 
 eral's despatch, " a most desperate contest ensued," and the 
 result was "a signal defeat." Junot, having lost thirteen 
 cannon and more than 2000 men, immediately fell back upon 
 Lisbon, where his position was protected by the strong lines 
 of Torres Vedras. 
 
 Sir Arthur Wellesley proposed following up the victory; 
 but as soon as the battle was ended, Sir Harry Burrard, an 
 officer of superior rank, arrived on the field and took the 
 command. He prevented the army from advancing; and, 
 
Chap, xvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 215 
 
 having made this use of his command, was, in his turn, the 
 very next day superseded by Sir Hew Dalrymple, the govern- 
 or of Gibraltar. 
 
 Junot sent Kellerman to demand a truce, and propose a 
 convention for the evacuation of Portugal by the troops un- 
 der his orders. Dalrymple received Kellerman with civility, 
 and forthwith granted the desired armistice. Junot offered 
 to surrender his magazines, stores and armed vessels, provid- 
 ed the British would disembark his soldiers, with their arms, 
 at any French port between Rochefort and L'Orient, and 
 permit them to take With them their private property; and 
 Dalrymple did not hesitate to agree to these terms, although 
 Sir John Moore arrived off the coast with a reinforcement of 
 10,000 men, during the progress of the negotiation. The 
 famous " Convention of Cintra" was signed accordingly on 
 the 30th of August; and the French army wholly evacuated 
 Portugal in the manner provided for. Napoleon on hearing 
 of the reverses of Dupont, Lefebre and Junot, perceived too 
 clearly that the affairs of the peninsula demanded a keener 
 eye and a firmer hand than his brother's, and he resolved 
 that his gigantic resources should be set in motion by himself. 
 
 The nominal strength of the three Spanish armies, each 
 under an independent chief, was at this time 130,000 men. — 
 Had they been combined under an able general, they might 
 have assaulted the French army with success, which did not 
 then exceed 60,000; — but they chose their basis of operations 
 so absurdly, and were so dilatory afterward, that Napoleon 
 had time both to rectify Joseph's blunders and to reinforce 
 his legions effectually, before they were able to achieve any 
 considerable advantage. Blake who commanded on the west, 
 extended his line from Burgos to Bilboa; Palafox, on the 
 east, lay between Zaragossa and Sanguessa; Castannos, gen- 
 eral of the central army had his head-quarters at Soria. — 
 The three armies thus lay in a long and feeble crescent, of 
 which the horns were pushed towards the French frontier; 
 while the enemy, resting on three strong fortresses, remained 
 on the defensive until the Emperor should pour new forces 
 through the passes of the Pyrenees. 
 
 Napoleon now determined to cross the Pyrenees in person, 
 at the head of a force capable of sweeping the whole penin- 
 sula clear before him, "at one fell swoop. V He announced 
 in the French journals that the peasants of Spain had rebell- 
 ed against their king; that treachery had caused the ruin of 
 one corps of his army; and that another had been forced by 
 
216 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvi. 
 
 the English, to evacuate Portugal; demanding two new con- 
 scriptions, each of 80,000 men— which were ot course grant- 
 ed without hesitation. Recruiting his armies on the German 
 side and in Italy, with these new levies, he now ordered his 
 veteran troops, to the amount of 200,000, including a vast 
 and brilliant cavalry, and a large body of the imperial guards, 
 to be drafted from those frontiers, and marched through 
 France towards Spain. As these warlike columns passed 
 through Paris, Napoleon addressed to them one of those 
 orations which never failed to swell the resolution and pride 
 of his soldiery on the eve of some great enterprise. ' Com- 
 rades," said he " after triumphing on the banks of the 
 Danube and the Vistula, with rapid steps you have passed 
 through Germany. This day, without a moment of repose, I 
 command you traverse France. Soldiers I have need of you. 
 The hideo'us presence of the English leopard contaminates 
 the peninsula of Spain and Portugal. In terror he must fly be- 
 fore you. Let us bear our triumphant eagles to the pillars of 
 Hercules; there also we have injuries to revenge. Soldiers! 
 you have surpassed the renown of modern armies; but have 
 you yet equalled the glory of those Romans, who, in one and 
 the same campaign, were victorious on the Rhine and the 
 Euphrates, in Ulyria and on the Tagus! A long peace, a 
 lasting prosperity, shall be the reward of your labors. A 
 real Frenchman could not, should not rest, until the seas are 
 free and open to all. Soldiers, what you have done, and 
 what you are about to do, for the happiness of the French 
 people and for my glory, shall be eternal in my heart." Hav- 
 ing thus dismissed his troops on their way, Buonaparte him- 
 self travelled rapidly to Erfurt where he had invited the 
 Emperor Alexander to confer with him. It was most needful 
 that ere he went to Spain himself, he should ascertain the safe- 
 ty of his empire on the other side; and there was much in the 
 state of Germany that might well give rise to serious appre- 
 hensions. Austria was strengthening her military force to a 
 vast extent, and had, by a recent law, acquired the means of 
 drawing on her population unlimitedly, after the method of 
 Napoleon's own conscription-code. She professed pacific in- 
 tentions towards France, and intimated that her preparations 
 were designed for the protection of her Turkish frontier; but 
 the Emperor Francis positively declined to acknowledge 
 Joseph Buonaparte as king of Spain; and this refusal was 
 quite sufficient to satisfy Napoleon as to his real purposes.— 
 He also appreciated the unpopularity of his "continental 
 
Chap, xvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON 217 
 
 system" in Russia, and the power of the aristocracy there, 
 far too accurately, not to entertain some suspicion that Alex- 
 ander himself might be compelled to take the field against 
 him, should England succeed in persuading Austria and 
 Germany to rise in arms during his own absence in Spain. — 
 For these reasons he had requested the Czar's presence at 
 Erfurt; and this conference was apparently as satisfactory to 
 either as that of Tilsit had been. They addressed a joint 
 letter to the king of England, proposing once more a general 
 peace; but as they both refused to acknowledge any authority; 
 in Spain, save that of king Joseph, the answer was of course 
 in the negative. Buonaparte, however, had obtained his 
 object when he thus exhibited the Czar and himself as firmly 
 allied. He perceived clearly that Austria was determined on 
 another campaign; gave orders for concentrating and increas- 
 ing his own armies accordingly, both in Germany and Italy; 
 and — trusting to the decision and rapidity of his own move- 
 ments, and the comparative slowness of his ancient enemy — 
 dared to judge that he might still bring matters to an issue in 
 Spain, before his presence should be absolutely necessary 
 beyond the Rhine. 
 
 On the 14th of October the conferences of Erfurt termi- 
 nated; on the 24th Napoleon was present at the opening of 
 the legislative session at Paris; two days after he left that 
 capital, and reached Bayonne on the 3d of November, where 
 he remained, directing the movements of the last columns 
 of his advancing army, until the morning of the 8th. He 
 arrived at Vittoria the same evening: the civil and military 
 authorities met him at the gates of the town, and would have 
 conducted him to a house prepared for his reception, but he 
 leaped from his horse, entered the first inn that he observed, 
 and calling for maps and a detailed report of the position of 
 all the armies, French and Spanish, proceeded instantly to 
 draw up his plan for the prosecution of the war. Within two 
 hours he had completed his task. Soult, who had accompani- 
 ed him from Paris, and whom he ordered to take the com- 
 mand of Bessieres's corps, set off on the instant, reached 
 Briviesca, where its head-quarters were, at day-break on the 
 9th, and within a few hours the whole machinery was once 
 more in motion. 
 
 Napoleon had, early in October, signified to Joseph that 
 the French cause in Spain would always be favored by acting 
 on the offensive, and his disapproval of the extent to which 
 the king had retreated had not been heard in vain. General 
 
 10 
 
218 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xvi 
 
 Blake's army had already been brought to action, and defeat- 
 ed disastrously by Moncey, at Espinosa; from which point 
 Blake had most injudiciously retreated towards Reynosa, 
 instead of Burgos, where another army, meant to support his 
 right, had assembled under the orders of the Count de Bel- 
 vedere. 
 
 Soult now poured down his columns on the plains of 
 Burgos. Belvedere was defeated by him at Gomenal even 
 more easily than Blake had been at Espinosa. The latter- 
 again defeated by the indefatigable Soult, at Reynosa, was at 
 length obliged to take refuge, with what hardly could be 
 called even the skeleton of an army, in the seaport of St. 
 Ander. Thus, the whole of the Spanish left was dissipated; 
 and the French right remained at liberty to march onwards at 
 their pleasure. 
 
 Palafox, meanwhile, had effected at length a junction with 
 Castannos; and the combined Spanish armies of the centre 
 and the east awaited the French attack, on the 22d of No 
 vember, at Tudela. The disaster here was still more com- 
 plete. Castannos and Palafox separated in the moment of 
 overthrow; the former escaping to Calatayud with the wreck 
 of his troops, while the latter made his way once more to 
 Zaragossa. 
 
 Napoleon now saw the main way to Madrid open before 
 him — except that some forces were said to be posted at the 
 strong defile of the Somosierra, within ten miles of the 
 capital; while Soult, continuing his march by Carrion and 
 Valladolid, could at once keep in check the English, in case 
 they were still so daring as to advance from Portugal, and 
 outflank the Somosierra, in case the mountains should be so 
 defended as to bar the Emperor's approach in that direction 
 to Madrid. Palafox was pursued, and soon shut up in Zara- 
 gossa by Lasnes. That heroic city on the east, the British 
 army on the west, and Madrid in front, were the only far- 
 separated points on which any show of opposition was still to 
 be traced— from the frontiers of France to those of Portugal, 
 from the sea-coast to the Tagus. Napoleon, with his guards 
 and the first division, marched towards Madrid. His van- 
 guard reached the foot of the Somosierra chain on the 30th of 
 November, and found that a corps of 12,000 men had been as- 
 sembled for the defence of that pass, under General St. Juan. 
 No stronger position could well be fancied than that of the 
 Spaniards; the defile was narrow and excessively steep, and 
 the road completely swept by sixteen pieces of artillery. At 
 
Chap, xvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 219 
 
 day -break, on the 1st of December, the French began their 
 attempt to turn the flanks of St. Juan: three battalions scat- 
 tered themselves over the opposite sides of the defile, and a 
 warm skirmishing fire had begun. At this moment Buona- 
 parte came up. He rode into the mouth of the pass, survey- 
 ed the scene for an instant, perceived that his infantry were 
 making no progress, and at once conceived the daring idea 
 of causing his Polish lancers to charge right up the cause- 
 way in face of the battery. The smoke of the skirmishers 
 on the hill sides mingled with the thick fogs and vapors of the 
 morning, and under this veil the brave Krazinski led his 
 troopers fearlessly up the ascent. The Spanish infantry fired 
 as they passed them, threw down their arms, abandoned their 
 intrenchments, and fled. The Poles speared the gunners, 
 and took possession of the cannon. The Spaniards continu- 
 ed their flight in such disorder that they were at last fain to 
 quit the road to Madrid, and escape in the direction, some of 
 Segovia, others of Talaveyra. On the morning of the 2d, 
 three divisions of French cavalry made their appearance on 
 the high ground to the northwest of the capital. 
 
 During eight days the inhabitants had been preparing the 
 means of resistance. A local and military junta had been 
 invested with authority to conduct the defence. Six thousand 
 regular troops were in the town, and crowds of the citizens 
 and of the peasantry of the adjoining country were in arms 
 along with them. The pavement had been taken up, the 
 streets barricadoed, the nouses on the outskirts loopholed, 
 and the Retiro, a large but weak edifice, occupied by a 
 strong garrison. Terrible violence prevailed — many persons 
 suspected of adhering to the side of the French were assassi- 
 nated; the bells of churches and convents rung incessantly; 
 ferocious bands paraded the streets day and night; and at the 
 moment when the enemy's cavalry appeared, the universal 
 uproar seemed to announce that he was about to find a new 
 and a greater Zaragossa in Madrid. 
 
 The town was summoned at noon; and the officer employ- 
 ed would have been massacred by the mob but for the inter- 
 ference of the Spanish regulars. Napoleon waited until his 
 infantry and artillery came up in the evening, and then the 
 place was invested on one side. " The night was clear and 
 bright," says Napier; " the French camp was silent and 
 watchful; but the noise of tumult was heard from every 
 quarter of the city, as if some mighty beast was struggling 
 and howling in the toils." At midnight the city was again 
 
220 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xvi. 
 
 summoned; and the answer being still defiance, the batteries 
 began to open. In the course of the day the Retiro wag 
 stormed, and the immense palace of the dukes of Medina 
 Celi, which commands one side of the town, seized also. — 
 Terror now began to prevail within; and shortly after the 
 city was summoned, for the third time, Don Thomas Morla, 
 the governor, came out to demand a suspension of arms. — 
 Napoleon received him with anger, and rebuked him for the 
 violation of the capitulation at Baylen. " Injustice and bad 
 faith," said he "always recoil on those who are guilty of 
 
 them." . 
 
 Morla was a coward, and there is no doubt a traitor al?o — 
 On returning to the town he urged the necessity of instantly 
 capitulating; and most of those in authority took a similar 
 part, except Castellas, the commander of the regular troops. 
 The peasa-ntry and citizens kept firing on the French outposts 
 during the night; but Castellas, perceiving that the civil 
 rulers were all against further resistance, withdrew his troops 
 and sixteen cannon in safety. At eight in the morning of the 
 4th, Madrid surrendered. The Spaniards were disarmed, 
 and the town filled with the French army. Napoleon took 
 up his residence at Chamartin, a country house four miles off. 
 In a few days tranquility seemed completely re-established. 
 The French soldiery observed excellent discipline: the shops 
 were re-opened, and the theatres frequented as usual. 
 
 Napoleon now exercised all the rights of a conqueror. He 
 issued edicts abolishing the inquisition, all feudal rights, and 
 all particular jurisdictions; regulating the number of monks; 
 increasing at the expense of the monastic establishments, 
 the stipends of the parochial clergy; and proclaiming a gen- 
 eral amnesty, with only ten exceptions. He received a depu- 
 tation of the chief inhabitants, who came to signify their desire 
 to see Joseph among them again. His answer was, that Spam 
 was his own by right of conquest; that he could easily rule 
 it by viceroys; but if they chose to assemble in their churches, 
 priests and people, and swear allegiance to Joseph, he was 
 not indisposed to listen to their request. 
 
 This was a secondary matter; meantime, the Emperor was 
 making his dispositions for the completion, of his conquest. — 
 His plan was to invade Andalusia, Valencia and Galicia, by 
 his lieutenants, and to march in person to Lisbon. Nor was 
 this vast plan beyond his means; for he had at that moment 
 255,000 men, 50,000 horses and 100 pieces of field artillery, 
 actually ready for immediate service in Spain; while £0,000 
 
 / 
 
Chap, xvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 221 
 
 men and 100 cannon, besides, were in reserve, all on the south 
 side of the Pyrenees. To oppose this gigantic force there 
 were a few poor defeated corps of Spaniards, widely separat- 
 ed from each other, and flying already before mere detach- 
 ments; Seville, whose local junta had once more assumed the 
 nominal sovereignty, and guarded in front by a feeble corps 
 in the Sierra Morena; Valencia, without a regular garrison; 
 Zaragossa, closely invested, and resisting once more with 
 heroic determination; and the British army under Sir John 
 Moore. The moment Napoleon was informed that Moore 
 had advanced into Spain, he resolved to march in person and 
 overwhelm him. 
 
 The English general had put his troops, 20,000 in number, 
 into motion, and advanced in the direction of Salamanca; 
 while a separate British corps of 13,000, under Sir David 
 Baird, recently landed at Corunna, had orders to march 
 through Galicia, and effect a junction with Moore either at 
 Salamanca or Valladolid. The object of the British march 
 was of course to support the Spanish armies of Blake and 
 Belvedere in their defence; but owing to delays and blun- 
 dering intelligence, these armies were in a hopeless con- 
 dition before Sir John Moore's march begun. 
 
 Buonaparte, hearing on the 20th of December of the 
 advance of Moore, instantly put himself at the head of 50,000 
 men, and marched with incredible rapidity, with the view of 
 intercepting his communications with Portugal, and in short 
 hemming him in between himself and Soult. Moore no 
 sooner heard that Napoleon was approaching, than he per- 
 ceived the necessity of an immediate retreat; and he com- 
 menced accordingly a most calamitous one through the 
 naked mountains of Galicia, in which his troops maintained 
 their character for bravery, rallying with zeal whenever the 
 French threatened their rear, but displayed a lamentable 
 want of discipline in all other parts of their conduct. The 
 weather was tempestuous; the roads miserable; the com- 
 missariat utterly defective; and the very notion of retreat 
 broke the high spirits of the soldiery. They ill-treated the 
 inhabitants, drank whatever strong liquors they could obtain, 
 straggled from their ranks, and in short lost the appearance 
 of an army except when the trumpet warned them that they 
 might expect the French charge. Clarke, in his History of 
 the War, gives a heart-rending account of the horrors of this 
 retreat: — " the mountains" he observes, " were now covered 
 with snow — there was neither provision to sustain nature, 
 
222 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvi. 
 
 nor shelter from the rain and snow, nor fuel for fire to keep 
 the vital heat from total extinction, sor place where the 
 weary and foot-sore could rest for a single hour in safe y.— 
 All that had hitherto been suffered was but the prelude to 
 this consummate scene of horrors. It was still attempted to 
 carry forward some of the sick and wounded: the beasts 
 which drew them failed at every step, and they were left in 
 the waggons, to perish amid the snows. " I looted around, 
 says an officer, " when we had hardly gained the highest 
 point of those slippery precipices, and saw the rear oi the 
 army winding along the narrow road. I saw their way 
 marked by the wretched people who lay on all sides expiring 
 from fatigue and the severity of the cold :-their bodies 
 reddened in spots, the white surface of the ground. The 
 men were now desperate; excessive fatigue, and the feeling 
 of the disgrace attending the retreat; or, as they expressed 
 it running away from the enemy, excited a spirit^ almost 
 mutinous;— the delay of a few hours was unanimously oesired, 
 that an opportunity might be obtained of facing the French, 
 the chance of an honorable and speedy death, the certainty 
 of sweetening their sufferings by taking vengeance upon 
 their pursuers. A Portuguese bullock-driver, who had faith- 
 fully served the English from the first day of their march, 
 was seen on his knees amid the snow, with his hands clasped, 
 dying in the attitude and act of prayer. He had at least the 
 hopes, the actual consolation and comfort of religion in his 
 passing hour. The soldiers, who threw themselves down to 
 perish by the way-side, gave utterance to far different feel- 
 inas with their dying breath: shame and anger were their 
 last sentiments, and their groans were mingled with .impreca- 
 tions upon the Spaniards, by whom « they fancied themse ves 
 betrayed; and the generals, who rather -let .them die like 
 beasts than take their chance in the held of battle. Inat 
 no horror might be wanting, women and children accompani- 
 ed this wretched army :— some were frozen to death in the 
 baggage waggons, which were broken down or left upon 
 the road for want of cattle; some died of fatigue and cold, 
 wh : le their infants were pulling at the empty breast. One 
 woman was taken in labor upon the mountain; she lay down 
 at the turning of an angle rather more sheltered than the rest 
 of the way from the icy sleet which drifted along; -there she 
 was found dead, and two babes which she had brought forth, 
 struggling in the snow;-a blanket was thrown over her to 
 hide her from sight,— the only burial that could be afforded, 
 
Chap, xvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 223 
 
 and the infants were given in charge to a woman who came 
 up in one of the bullock carts, — -little likely as it was that 
 they could survive through such a journey." 
 
 Soult hung close on their rear until they reached Corunna; 
 and Moore perceived that it would be impossible to embark 
 without either a convention or a battle. He chose the latter. 
 The attack was made by the French on the 16th of January, 
 in heavy columns with their usual vivacity, but it was sustain- 
 ed and repelled by the British and they were permitted to em- 
 bark without further molestation. Sir John Moore fell in the 
 action, mortally wounded by a cannon shot. He was one 
 of the best and bravest officers in the British army. His 
 body was wrapped in his military cloak, instead of the usual 
 vestments of the tomb, and deposited in a grave hastily dug 
 on the ramparts of the citadel of Corunna. 
 
 " No useless coffin enclosed his breast. 
 
 Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him,. 
 
 But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 
 With his martial cloak around hirn. 
 
 Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 
 
 From the field of his fame fresh and gory; 
 
 We carved not a line, and raised not a stone, 
 But left him alone with his glory." 
 
 The French, with a feeling of respect for the valor of their 
 fallen foe, erected a monument over his remains. 
 
 Napoleon came up with the troops in pursuit of Moore at 
 Benevente, on the 29th of December, and enjoyed for a 
 moment the spectacle of the English army in full retreat. — 
 He saw that Moore was no longer worthy of his own atten- 
 tion, and intrusted the consummation of his ruin to Soult. — 
 It excited universal surprise that the Emperor did not im- 
 mediately return from Benevente to Madrid, to complete and 
 consolidate his Spanish conquest. He, however, proceeded, 
 not towards Madrid, but Paris; and this with his utmost 
 speed — riding on post-horses, on one occasion, not less than 
 eventy-five English miles in five hours and a half. The cause 
 of this sudden change of purpose, and extraordinary haste, 
 was a sufficient one, and it ere long transpired. 
 
224 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvii. 
 
 CHAP. XYII. 
 
 Austria declares war. Napoleon heads his army in Germany. Battle 
 of Landshut and Eckmuhl. Ratisben taken. Napoleon enters Vienna. 
 Hostilities in Italy, Hungary, Poland, the north of Germany and the 
 Tyrol. Great conflict at Aspern. Both armies reinforced. Decisive 
 Battle of WAGRAM,in which the Austrians are completely defeat- 
 ed. Armistice concluded. 
 
 Napoleon had foreseen that Austria, hardly dissembling 
 her aversion to the ''continental system," and openly refus- 
 ing to acknowledge Joseph as king of Spain, would avail 
 herself of the insurrection of that country, necessarily fol- 
 lowed by the march of a great French army across the 
 Pyrenees, as affording a favorable opportunity for once more 
 taking arms, in the hope of recovering what she had lost in 
 the campaign of Austerlitz. His minister, Talleyrand, had, 
 during his absence, made every effort to conciliate the Em- 
 peror Francis; but the warlike preparations throughout the 
 Austrian dominions proceeded with increasing vigor — and 
 Napoleon received such intelligence ere he witnessed the 
 retreat of Moore, that he immediately countermanded the 
 march of such of his troops as had not yet reached the 
 Pyrenees, — wrote (from Valladolid) to the princes of the 
 Rhenish league, ordering them to hold their contingents in 
 readiness — and travelled to Paris with extraordinary haste.- — 
 He reached his capital on the 22d of January; renewed the 
 negotiations with Vienna; and, in the mean time, recruited 
 and concentrated his armies on the German side — thus ad- 
 journing the completion of the Spanish conquest. 
 
 On the 6th of April, Austria declared war; and on the 9th, 
 the Archduke Charles, generalissimo of armies, which were 
 recruited at this period, to the amount of 550,000 men, 
 crossed the Inn at the head 'of six corps, each consisting of 
 30,000; while the Arch-duke John marched with two other 
 divisions towards Italy, by the way of Carinthia; and the 
 Arch-duke Ferdinand assumed the command of a 9th corps in 
 Galicia, to make head against Russia, in case that power 
 should be forced or tempted by Napoleon to take part in the 
 struggle. Napoleon having so great an army in Spain, could 
 not hope to oppose numbers such as these to the Austrians; 
 but he trusted to the rapid combinations which had so often 
 
, 
 
 Chap, xvii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 225 
 
 enabled him to battle the same enemy; and the instant that he 
 heard Bavaria was invaded by the Arch-duke Charles, he pro- 
 ceeded, without guards, without equipage, accompanied sole- 
 ly by the faithful Josephine, to Frankfort, and thence to 
 Strasburg. He assumed the command on the 13th, and 
 immediately formed the plan of his campaign. 
 
 He found the two wings of his army, the one under Mas- 
 sena, the other under Davoust, at such a distance from the 
 centre that, if the Austrians had seized the opportunity, the 
 consequences might have been fatal. On the 17th of April, 
 he commanded Davoust and Massena to march simultaneous- 
 ly towards a position in front, and then pushed forward the 
 centre, in person, to the same point. The Arch-duke Lewis, 
 who commanded two Austrian divisions in advance, was thus 
 hemmed in unexpectedly by three armies, moving at once 
 from three different points; defeated and driven back, at 
 Abensberg, on the 20th; and utterly routed at Landshut, on 
 the 21st. Here the Arch-duke lost 9000 men, thirty guns 
 and all his stores. 
 
 On the 22d of April, after this fortunate commencement of 
 the campaign, Buonaparte directed his whole force, scientifi- 
 cally arranged into different divisions, and moving by different 
 routes, on the principal army of the Arch-duke Charles, 
 which, during these misfortunes, he had concentrated at 
 Eckmuhl. The battle is said to have been one of the most 
 splendid which the art of war could display. An hundred 
 thousand men and upwards were dispossessed of all their 
 positions by the combined attack of their scientific enemy, 
 the divisions appearing on the field, each in its due place and 
 order, as regularly as the movements of the various pieces in 
 a game of chess. All the Austrian wounded, great part of 
 their artillery, fifteen stand of colors and twenty thousand 
 prisoners, remained in the power of the French. The 
 retreat was attended with corresponding loss; and Austria 
 again baffled in her hopes of re-acquiring her influence in 
 Germany, was once more reduced to combat for her existence 
 
 amongst nations. 
 
 On the subsequent day, the Austrians made some attempt 
 to protect the retreat of their army, by defending Ratisbon. 
 A partial breach in the ancient walls was hastily efFected, but 
 for some time the French who advanced to the storm, were 
 destroyed by the musketry of the defenders. There was at 
 length difficulty in finding volunteers to renew the attack, 
 when the impetuous Lasnes, by whom they were commanded, 
 10* 
 
226 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvii. 
 
 seized a ladder, and rushed forward to fix it himself against 
 the walls. " I will show yon," he exclaimed, " that your 
 general is still a grenadier." The example prevailed, the 
 wall was surrounded, and the combat was continued or renew- 
 ed in the streets of the town, which was speedily on fire. A 
 body of French, rushing to charge a body of Austrians, 
 which still occupied one end of a burning street, were inter- 
 rupted by some waggons belonging to the enemy's train. — 
 " They are tumbrils of powder," cried the Austrian com- 
 manding, to the French; " if the flames reach them, both 
 sides perish." The combat ceased, and the two parties 
 joined in averting a calamity which must have been fatal to 
 both, and finally saved the ammunition from the flames. At 
 length the Austrians were driven out of Ratisbon, leaving 
 much cannon, baggage and prisoners, in the hands of the 
 enemy. 
 
 In the middle of this last melee, Buonaparte, who was 
 speaking with his adjutant, Duroc, observing the affair at 
 some distance, was struck on the foot by a spent musket-ball, 
 which occasioned a severe contusion. " That must have 
 been a Tyrolese," said the Emperor, coolly, " who has aimed 
 at me from such a distance. These fellows fire with wonder- 
 ful precision." Those around remonstrated with him for 
 exposing his person; to which he answered, a What can I 
 do? I must needs see how matters go on." The soldiers 
 crowded about him in alarm at the report of his wound; but 
 he would hardly allow it to be dressed, so eager was he to 
 get on horseback and put an end to the solicitude of his 
 army, by showing himself publicly, among the troops. 
 
 Thus within five days — the space, and almost the very 
 days of the month, which Buonaparte had assigned for set- 
 tling the affairs of Germany, — the original aspect of the war 
 was entirely changed; and Austria, who had engaged in it with 
 the proud hope of reviving her original influence in Europe, 
 was now to continue her struggle for the doubtful chance 
 of securing her existence. At no period in his momentous 
 career, did the genius of Napoleon appear more completely 
 to prostrate all opposition; at no time did the talents of a 
 single individual exercise such an influence on the fate of the 
 universe. The forces which he had in the field had been not 
 only unequal to those of the enemy, but they were in a mili- 
 tary point of view, ill-placed and imperfectly combined. Na- 
 poleon arrived alone, found himself under all these disadvan- 
 tages, and we repeat, by his almost unassisted genius, came in 
 
Chap, xvii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 227 
 
 the course of five days, in complete triumph out of a struggle 
 which bore a character so unpromising. It was no wonder 
 that others, nay, that he himself, should have annexed to his 
 person the degree of superstitious influence claimed for the 
 chosen instruments of Destiny, whose path must not be 
 crossed, and whose arms cannot be arrested. 
 
 Napoleon reviewed his army on the 24th, distributing re- 
 wards of all sorts with a lavish hand, and, among others, be- 
 stowing the title of duke of Eckmuhl on Davoust; and forth- 
 with commenced his march upon Vienna. The corps defeated 
 at Landshut had retreated in that direction, and being consid- 
 erably recruited, made some show of obstructing his pro- 
 gress; but they were defeated again and totally broken at 
 Ehrensberg, on the 3d of May, by Massena, and on the 9th 
 Napoleon appeared before the walls of the capital. The 
 Emperor had already quitted it with all his family, except his 
 daughter, the Arch-duchess Maria Louisa, who was confined 
 to her chamber by illness. The Arch-duke Maximilian, with 
 the regular garrison of 10,000 men, evacuated it on Na- 
 poleon's approach; and, though the inhabitants had prepared 
 for a vigorous resistance, the bombardment soon convinced 
 them that it was hopeless. It perhaps deserves to be men- 
 tioned, that on learning the situation of the sick princess, 
 Buonaparte instantly commanded that no fire should be 
 directed towards that part of the town. On the 10th, a ca- 
 pitulation was signed, the French troops took possession of 
 the city, and Napoleon once more established his head-quar- 
 ters in the imperial palace of Schoenbrunn. 
 
 In the meantime, the Arch-duke Ferdinand had commenc- 
 ed the war in Poland, and, obtaining the advantage in several 
 affairs, taken possession of Warsaw; but the news of Eck- 
 muhl recalled this division to the support of the main army, 
 under the Arch-duke Charles; and the Russian troops not 
 only retook Warsaw, but occupied the whole of the Austro- 
 Polish provinces. Alexander, however, showed no disposi- 
 tion to push the war with vigor, or to advance into Germany 
 for the support of Napoleon. In Italy, in like manner, the" 
 Arch-duke John had at first been successful. But after de- 
 feating Eugene Beauharnois, Napoleon's viceroy, and taking 
 possession of Padua and Vicenza, this prince also was sum- 
 moned to retrace his steps, in consequence of the catastro- 
 phe at Eckmuhl. Eugene pursued him into Hungary, and 
 defeated him in a great battle at Raab. Colonel Schill, the 
 Prussian partisan, had availed himself of the concentration 
 
228 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xvii 
 
 of Napoleon's troops for the Austrian Campaign, to take up 
 arms, though without any authority from his sovereign, in the 
 hope that the national resentment would burst out in a universal 
 insurrection; and the duke of Brunswick, son to him who 
 was mortally wounded at Jena, had also appeared in Lusatia, 
 and invited all true Germans to imitate the heroic conduct 
 of the Spaniards. His name, his misfortunes, his character 
 and his purpose, tended soon to fill his ranks; the external 
 appearance of which indicated deep sorrow, and a determined 
 purpose of vengeance. His uniform was black, in memory 
 of his father's death; the lace of the cavalry was disposed like 
 the ribs of a skeleton; the helmets and caps bore a death's 
 head on their front. 
 
 These occurrences threatened a general burst of war 
 wherever the Tugenbund and other patriotic associations had 
 for some time been strongly influencing the popular mind. — 
 The battle of Eckmuhl, however, diffused new awe all over 
 the north of Germany. The troops of Saxony checked the 
 duke of Brunswick's progress, and Schill's heroic band were 
 at last shut up in Stralsund, where their leader perished in a 
 sortie; thus, and only thus, escaping the vengeance of Na- 
 poleon, 
 
 Among the mountains of the Tyrol, the native zeal of a 
 few hardy peasants achieved more than all the mighty popu- 
 lation of Germany. This ancient province of the house of 
 Austria had been, in sinful violation of all the rights of man- 
 kind, transferred to the hated yoke of Bavaria, by the treaty 
 of Presberg. The mountaineers no sooner heard that their 
 rightful sovereign was once more in arms against Napoleon, 
 than they rose (early in April,) under the guidance of Hofer, 
 a gallant peasant, seized the strong passes of their country, 
 and, in the course of four days, made every French and 
 Bavarian soldier quartered among them a prisoner, — with 
 the exception of the garrison of the fortress of Kufstein. — 
 Napoleon caused Lefebre to march into the country with his 
 division; but Hofer posted his followers on the edge of preci- 
 pices, from which they fired on the French columns with the 
 skill of practised marksmen, and rolled down torrents of 
 stones with such effect, that Lefebre was compelled to re- 
 treat. Austria, however, having enough of work at home, 
 could not afford to sustain the efforts of these heroic peasants 
 by any detachment of regular troops. On the retirement of 
 Lefebre, they issued from their hills and wasted the neighbor- 
 ing territory of Bavaria; but the general issue of the cam- 
 
Chap, xvii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 229 
 
 paign left them at the mercy of Buonaparte, who suppressed 
 the insurrection, finally, by overwhelming numbers, and 
 avenged it by massacreing Hofer and all who had taken a 
 prominent part in the cause. 
 
 These popular movements, however, could not be regard- 
 ed with indifference by him who had witnessed and appreciat- 
 ed the character of the Spanish insurrection. Napoleon well 
 knew, that unless he concluded the main contest soon, the 
 spirit of Schill and Hofer would kindle a general flame from 
 the Rhine to the Elbe; and he therefore desired fervently 
 that the Austrian generalissimo might be tempted to quit the 
 fastnesses of Bohemia, and try once more the fortune of a 
 battle. 
 
 The Arch-duke, having re-established the order and re- 
 cruited the numbers of his army, had anticipated these wishes 
 of his enemy, and was already posted on the opposite bank 
 of the Danube, which river, being greatly swollen, and all the 
 bridges destroyed, seemed to divide the two camps, as by an 
 impassable barrier. 
 
 Napoleon determined to pass it; and after an unsuccessful 
 attempt at Nussdorff, met with better fortune at Ebersdorff, 
 where the river is broad and intersected by a number of low 
 and woody islands, the largest of which bears the name of 
 Lobau. On these islands Napoleon established the greater 
 part of his army, on the 19th of May, and on the following 
 day made good his passage, by means of a bridge of boats, 
 to the left bank of the Danube; where he took possession 
 of the villages of Aspern and Essling, with so little show of 
 opposition, that it became evident the Arch-duke wished the 
 inevitable battle to take place with the river between his 
 enemy and Vienna. 
 
 The reports brought in during the night were contradictory, 
 nor could the signs visible on the horizon induce the generals 
 to agree concerning the numbers and probable plans of the 
 Austrians. On the distant heights of Bisamberg many lights 
 were seen, which induced Lasnes and others to conceive the 
 enemy to be there concentrated. But much nearer the 
 French, and in their front, the horizon also Exhibited a pale 
 streak of about a league in length, the reflected light of 
 numerous watch-fires, which the situation of the ground 
 prevented being themselves seen. 
 
 From these indications, while Lasnes was of opinion they 
 had before them only a strong rear-guard, Massena, with 
 more judgment, maintained they were in presence of the 
 
230 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xvii. 
 
 whole Austrian army. Napoleon was on horseback by break 
 of day on the 21st to decide by his own observation; but all 
 the ground in front was so thickly masked and covered by the 
 Austrian light cavalry, as to render it vain to attempt to 
 reconnoitre. On a sudden, this living veil of skirmishers 
 was withdrawn, anri^ the Austrians were seen advancing with 
 their whole force, divided into five columns of attack, headed 
 by their best generals, their numbers, more than double those 
 of the French, and possessing two hundred and twenty 
 pieces of artillery. The combat commenced by a furious 
 attack on the village of Aspern, which seemed only taken 
 that it might be retaken, only retaken that it might be again 
 lost. The carnage was dreadful; the obstinacy of the Aus- 
 trians in attacking, could not, however, overcome that of the 
 French in their defence. Essling was also assaulted by the 
 Austrians, though not with the same pertinacity; yet many 
 brave men fell in its attack and defence. 
 
 The battle began about four in the afternoon; and when 
 the evening approached nothing decisive had been done. — 
 The Arch-duke brought his reserves, and poured them in suc- 
 cessive bodies upon the disputed village of Aspern. Every 
 garden, terrace and farm-yard was a scene of the most obsti- 
 nate struggle. Waggons, carts, harrows and ploughs, were 
 employed to construct barricades. As the different parties 
 succeeded on different points, those who were victorious in 
 front were often attacked in the rear by such of the other 
 party as had prevailed in the next street. At the close of 
 the day Massena remained partially master of the place, on 
 fire as it was with bombs, and choked with the slain. The 
 Austrians, however, had gained possession of the church 
 and churchyard, and claimed the superiority on the left ac- 
 cordingly. 
 
 Essling was the object, during the last part of this bloody 
 day, of three general attacks; against all which, the French 
 made decisive head. At one time, Lasnes, who defended 
 the post, was so hard pressed, that he must have given way, 
 had not Napoleon relieved him and obtained him breathing 
 time by a well-timed and terrific charge of cavalry. Night 
 separated the combatants. 
 
 The French could not in any sense be said to have been 
 beaten; but it was an unusual thing for them, fighting under 
 Napoleon's eye, to be less than completely victorious. The 
 Austrians could as little be called victors; but even the cir- 
 cumstance of possessing themselves of the most important 
 
Chap, xvii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 231 
 
 part of Aspern, showed that the advantage had been with, 
 rather than against them; and both armies were affected with 
 the results of the day, rather as they appeared when compar- 
 ed with those of their late encounters, than as considered in 
 their own proper character. The feeling of the Austrians 
 was exultation; that of the French not certainly discourage- 
 ment, but unpleasant surprise. 
 
 On the 22d the work of carnage re-commenced. Both 
 armies had received reinforcements during Ihe night — Na- 
 poleon from the left bank, the Arch-duke from reserves in his 
 rear. The French had at first the advantage — they recover- 
 ed the church of Aspern, and made a number of Austrians 
 prisoners in the village. But the attacks on it were present- 
 ly renewed with the same fury as on the preceding day. — 
 Napoleon here formed a resolution worthy of his military 
 fame. He observed that the enemy, while pressing on the 
 village of Aspern, which was the left hand point of support 
 of the French position, kept back, or, in military language, 
 refused the right and centre of his line, which he was there- 
 fore led to suppose were weakened for the purpose of sup- 
 porting the assault upon Aspern. He determined for this 
 reason, to advance the whole French right and centre, to 
 assail the Austrian position on this enfeebled point. This 
 movement was executed ' in echellon,' advancing from the 
 French right. Heavy masses of infantry, with a numerous 
 artillery, now advanced with fury. The Austrian line was 
 forced back, and in some danger of being broken. Regi- 
 ments and brigades began to be separated from each other, 
 and there was a danger that the whole centre might be cut off 
 from the right wing. The Arch-duke Charles hastened to 
 the spot, and in this critical moment discharged at once the 
 duty of a general and of a common soldier. He brought up 
 reserves, replaced the gaps which had been made in his line 
 by the fury of the French, and seizing a standard, himself 
 led the grenadiers to the charge. 
 
 At this critical moment, by means of Austrian fireships 
 suddenly sent down the swollen and rapid river, the bridge 
 connecting the island of Lobau with the right bank was 
 wholly swept away. Buonaparte perceived that if he wished 
 to preserve his communications with the right of the Danube, 
 where his reserve still lay, he must instantly fall back on 
 Lobau; and no sooner did his troops commence their back- 
 ward movement than the Austrians recovered their order and 
 zeal, charged in turn, and finally made themselves master of 
 
232 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON [Chap. xvii. 
 
 Aspern. Essling, where Massena commanded, held firm, 
 and under the protection of that village and numerous bat- 
 teries erected near it, Napoleon succeeded in withdrawing 
 his whole force during the night. 
 
 The loss of both armies was dreadful, and computed to ex- 
 ceefi twenty thousand men on each side, killed and wounded. 
 General St. Hilaire, one of the best French generals, was 
 killed in the field, and Lasnes, whose behavior had been the 
 subject of admiration during the whole day, had both his legs 
 shattered to pieces by a cannon ball, and was brought back to 
 the island. He was much lamented by Buonaparte, who con- 
 sidered him as his own work. " I found him" he said, " t 
 mere swordsman, I brought him up to the highest point of 
 talent. I found him a dwarf, I raised him up into a giant." 
 The death of this general, whom, for his romantic valor, the 
 French soldiers delighted to call the Roland of their camp, 
 had something in it inexpressibly shocking. With both his 
 legs shot to pieces, he refused to die, and insisted that the 
 surgeons should be hanged who were unable to cure a Mar- 
 shal and Duke de Montebello. While he thus clung to life, 
 he called on the Emperor, with the, instinctive hope that 
 Napoleon at least could defer the dreaded hour, and repeated 
 his name to the last, with the wild interest with which an In- 
 dian prays to the object of his superstition. Buonaparte 
 showed much and creditable emotion at beholding his faithful 
 follower in such a condition. 
 
 On either side a great victory was claimed; and with equal 
 injustice. But the situation of the French Emperor was 
 imminently hazardous, he was separated from Dayoust and 
 his reserve; and had the enemy either attacked him in the 
 islands, or passed the river higher up, and so overwhelmed 
 Davoust and relieved Vienna, the results might have been fa- 
 tal. But the Arch-duke's loss in these two days had been 
 great; and, in place of risking any offensive movement, he 
 contented himself with strengthening the position of Aspern 
 and Essling, and awaiting quietly the moment when his enemy 
 should choose to attempt once more the passage to the left 
 bank, and the re-occupation of these hardly contested villages. 
 
 Napoleon availed himself of this pause with his usual skill. 
 That he had been checked was true, and that the news would 
 be heard with enthusiasm throughout Germany he well knew. 
 It was necessary to revive the tarnished magic of his name 
 by another decisive battle; and he made every exertion to 
 prepare for it. With unexampled activity he assembled ma- 
 
Chap, xvn.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 233 
 
 terials, and accomplished the re-establishment of his com" 
 munications with the right bank, by the morning of the second 
 day after the battle. With equal speed, incessant labor con- 
 verted the Isle of Lobau into an immense camp, protected by 
 battering cannon, and secured either from surprise or storm 
 from the Austrian side of the river. The smaller islands 
 were fortified in the like manner; and on the 1st of July, 
 Buonaparte pitched his head-quarters in the Isle of Lobau, 
 the name of which was changed to Napoleon Island, as in an 
 immense citadel, from which he had provided, the means of 
 sallying at pleasure upon the enemy. Boats, small craft, and 
 means to construct, on a better plan than formerly, three 
 floating bridges, were prepared and put in order in an incredi- 
 bly short space of time. 
 
 On the 5th of July, at 10 o'clock at night, the French be- 
 gan to cross from the islands in the Danube to the left-hand 
 bank. Gun-boats prepared for the purpose, silenced some 
 of the Austrian batteries; others were avoided, by passing 
 the river out of reach of their fire, which the French were 
 enabled to do by the new and additional bridges they had se- 
 cretly prepared. 
 
 At day-light on the next morning, the Arch- duke had the 
 unpleasant surprise to find the whole French army on the 
 left bank of the Danube, after having turned all the fortifica- 
 tions which he had formed for the purpose of opposing their 
 passage, and which were thus rendered totally useless. The 
 Villages of Essling and Entzersdorf had been carried, and 
 the French line of battle was formed upon the extremity of 
 the Arch-duke's left wing, menacing him, of course, both in 
 flank and rear. The Arch-duke Charles endeavored to reme- 
 dy the consequences of this surprise by outflanking the 
 French right, while the French made a push to break the 
 centre of the Austrian line, the key of which position was 
 the village of Wagram. Wagram was taken and retaken, and 
 only one house remained, which was occupied by the Arch- 
 duke Charles, when night closed the battle, which had been 
 bloody and indecisive. Courier after courier were dispatch- 
 ed to the Arch-duke John, to hasten his advance. 
 
 On the next day, being the 7th of July, was fought the 
 dreadful battle of Wagram, in which, it is said, that the 
 Arch-duke Charles committed the great military error of ex- 
 tending his lines, and weakening his centre. His enemy was 
 too alert not to turn such an error to profit. Lauriston with 
 a hundred pieces of cannon, and Macdonald, at the head of a 
 
234 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xvm 
 
 chosen division, charged the Austrians in the centre, and 
 broke through it. Napoleon showed all his courage and tal- 
 ents, and was ever in the hottest of the action, though the ap- 
 pearance of his retinue drew on him showers of grape by 
 which he was repeatedly endangered. 
 
 At length the Austrian array fell into disorder. Their cen- 
 tre was driven back two or three miles out of the line; cries 
 of alarm were heard, the right wing gave way, and the left 
 followed the example. The French took twenty thousand 
 prisoners; and so complete was the discomfiture, that, though 
 the Arch-duke John came up with a part of his army before the 
 battle was quite over, so little chance was there of redeem- 
 ing the day, that he was glad to retire from the field unnoticed 
 by the enemy. A dreadful circumstance took place after the 
 close of the battle. Between 3000 and 4000 men, Austrians, 
 were reposing in a field of rye, which took fire, and most of 
 them, unable to move from their wounds and from fatigue, 
 were miserably burnt to death. All hope of further resistance 
 was now abandoned by the Austrian princes and government; 
 and they concluded an armistice with Buonaparte at Znaim, 
 by which they agreed to evacuate the Tyrol, and put the 
 citadels of Brunn and Gratz into the hands of Napoleon, as 
 pledges for their sincerity in desiring a peace. Napoleon re- 
 turned to Schoenbrunn and continued occupied with the ne- 
 gotiation until October. 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 Progress of the war in the Peninsula. Battle of Talavera. Battle oi 
 Ocana. Attempt to assassinate Napoleon. Treaty of Schoenbrunn. — 
 Napoleon divorces Josephine. Marries the Arch-duchess Maria Louisa. 
 Deposes Louis Buonaparte and annexes Holland and the whole coast 
 of Germany to France. Bernadotte elected Crown Prince of Sweden. 
 Birth of the King of Rome. 
 
 The war, meanwhile, had been pursued with mixed fortune 
 in the peninsula. Zaragossa, after sustaining another siege 
 with fortitude not unworthy of the first, was at length com- 
 pelled to surrender in the month of February. Sir Arthur 
 
Chap, xviii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 235 
 
 Wellesley, being restored to the command of the British 
 army in Portugal, landed at Lisbon on the 22d of April, and 
 immediately marched upon Oporto, which Soult had occupied 
 early in the year. Soult was defeated under the walls of the 
 town, and forthwith began his retreat towards Galicia. Sir 
 Arthur was prevented from urging the pursuit of Soult by the 
 intelligence that Marshal Victor was laying Andalusia waste, 
 being opposed only by Cuesta, a bigotted old general, and an 
 army which had lost heart from repeated disasters. The 
 English leader perceived that if he marched into Galicia, 
 Victor must possess the means of instantly occupying Portu- 
 gal; and resolved in place of following Soult, to advance 
 towards this more formidable enemy. He effected a junction 
 with Cuesta at Oropesa, on the 20th of July, and marched 
 along the Tagus towards the position of Victor, who assum- 
 ed the offensive, and attacked the allies, on the 28th, at Tala- 
 vera de la Reyna. The battle ended in the repulsion of 
 Victor; but Wellesley found it impossible to advance further 
 into Spain, because Ney, Soult and Mortier were assembling 
 their divisions, with the view of coming between him and 
 Portugal. The English retired, therefore, to Badajos, and 
 thence to the Portuguese frontier. On the eastern side of 
 the peninsula, Blake, advancing with the view of recover- 
 ing, Zaragossa, was met, on the 19th of June, by Marshal 
 Suchet, duke of Albufera, and totally routed. The central 
 Spanish army, under Ariezaga, attempted with equal ill-for- 
 tune, to' relieve Madrid. King Joseph, accompanied by 
 Soult, Victor and Mortier, met them at Ocana on the 19th 
 of November, and broke them utterly. In December, Girona 
 surrendered to Augereau; and left Joseph in possession of 
 far the greater part of Spain. 
 
 Napoleon a few days after he returned from Moravia to 
 Schoenbrunn, escaped narrowly the dagger of a young man, 
 who rushed upon him in the midst of all his staff, at. a grand 
 review of the imperial guard. Berthier and Rapp threw 
 themselves upon him, and disarmed him at the moment when 
 his knife was about to enter the Emperor's body. Napoleon 
 demanded what motive had actuated the assassin. " What 
 injury," said he, " have I done to you?" " To me, person- 
 ally, none," answered the youth, " but. you are the oppressor 
 of my country, the tynnt of the world; and to have put you 
 to death would have been the highest glory of a man of hon- 
 or." This enthusiastic youth, by name Stabbs, son of a 
 clergyman of Erfurt, was justly condemned to death, and he 
 suffered with the calmness of a martvr. 
 
236 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xviii 
 
 Buonaparte led at Schoenbrunn nearly the same course of 
 life to which he was accustomed at the Tuilleries; seldom 
 appearing in public; occupied incessantly with his ministers 
 and generals. The treaty was at last signed on the 14th of 
 October, 1809. Austria gave up, in all, territory to the 
 amount of 45,000 square miles, and a population of nearly 
 4,000,000. When compared with the signal triumphs of the 
 campaign, the terms on which Napoleon signed the peace 
 were universally looked upon as remarkable for moderation. 
 
 On his return to Paris he opened the sitting of the legisla- 
 tive body by an imperial speech, in which the events of the 
 year and the state of France formed the principal topics. — 
 He also alluded to the situation of the imperial family. " I 
 and my house," said Napoleon, " will ever be found ready to 
 sacrifice every thing, even our own dearest ties and feelings 
 to the welfare of the French people." This was the first 
 public intimation of a measure which had for a considerable 
 time occupied his thoughts. On the 15th of December he 
 summoned his council, and announced to them, that, at the 
 expense of all his personal feelings, he, devoted wholly to 
 the welfare of the state, had resolved to separate himself 
 from his consort. Josephine then appeared among them, and, 
 not without tears, expressed her acquiescence in the decree. 
 The council accepted and ratified the disolution of the mar- 
 riage. The title of empress was to continue with Josephine 
 for life, and a pension of two millions of francs (to which 
 Napoleon afterward added a third million from his privy 
 purse,) was allotted her. She retired from the Tuilleries, 
 residing thenceforth mostly at the villa of Malmaison; and in 
 the course of a few weeks it was signified that Napoleon had 
 demanded the hand of the archduchess Maria Louisa, daugh- 
 ter to the emperor Francis, the same youthful princess who 
 has been mentioned as remaining in Vienna, on account of 
 illness, during the second occupation of that capital. 
 
 Having given her hand, at Vienna, to Berthier, who had 
 the honor to represent the person of his master, the young 
 archduchess came into France in March, 1810. On the 28th, 
 as her carriage was proceeding towards Soissons, Napoleon 
 rode up to it, in a plain dress, altogether unattended: and at 
 once breaking through the etiquette of such occasions, intro- 
 duced himself to his bride. She had never seen his person 
 till then, and it is said that her first exclamation was, " Your 
 majesty's pictures have not done you justice." Buonaparte 
 was at this time forty years of age; his countenance had ac- 
 
Chap, xviii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 231 
 
 quired a certain fulness, and that statue-like calmness of ex- 
 pression with which posterity will always be familiar; but his 
 figure betrayed as yet nothing more than a tendency towards 
 corpulence. He was considered as a handsomer man at this 
 period than he had been in his earlier days. They spent the 
 evening at the chateau of Compiegne, and were re-married 
 on the 2d of April at Paris, amid every circumstance of im- 
 perial splendour 
 
 In July, 1810, Napoleon deposed his brother Louis, and 
 formally annexed the kingdom of Holland to the French em- 
 pire, Amsterdam took rank among the cities next after Rome, 
 the Pope having been seized and sent prisoner to Fontain- 
 bleau the year previous, and the countries which formed 
 the Holy See annexed to the empire of France. The Hanse 
 towns, were shortly afterwards added, and the whole sea-coast 
 of Germany, from the frontier of Holland to that of Den- 
 mark. 
 
 In May, 1810, the prince of Augustenburg, who had been 
 recognized as heir to Charles XIII of Sweden, died sudden- 
 ly; and the choice of a successor was, according to the con- 
 stitution of Sweden, to depend on the vote of the diet, which 
 assembled accordingly in the month of August following. In 
 the hope of securing the friendship and protection of Napole- 
 on, the succession was proposed to Marshal Befnadotte, 
 brother-in-law to Joseph Buonaparte. Napoleon consented 
 to the acceptance of the proffered dignity by Bernadotte, 
 and the marshal proceeded to Stockholm, where he received 
 an enthusiastic welcome. 
 
 . On the 20th of April, 1811, Napoleon's wishes were crown- 
 ed by the birth of a son. The birth was a difficult one, and the 
 nerves of the medical attendant were shaken. At length the 
 child appeared, but without any signs of life. After a lapse 
 of some minutes a feeble cry was heard, and Napoleon en- 
 tering the anti-chamber, in which the high functionaries of 
 the state were assembled, announced the event in these words, 
 " It is a King of Rome." 
 
238 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xi* 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 Rupture with Russia. Great preparations on both sides for the ap- 
 proaching conflict. Amount of Buonaparte's army. Resources of 
 Alexander. Napoleon at Dresden. Passage of the Niemen. Arrives 
 at Wilna. Enthusiasm of the Russians. Their army largely reinforc- 
 ed. Napoleon leaves Wilna. Battle of Smolensko. Russians burn 
 the place and retreat. Great Battle of Borodino. Napoleon 
 continues his advance. Moscow abandoned by the Russian Army and 
 the Inhabitants. 
 
 We are now approaching the verge of that fated year, 
 when fortune, hitherto unwearied in her partiality towards 
 Napoleon, for the first time turned upon him a clouded and 
 stormy aspect. 
 
 The conditions of the treaty of Tilsit bore hard upon the 
 Emperor Alexander, and he was disposed to free himself 
 from them. Certain harbors were opened partially for the 
 admission of colonial produce, and the export of native pro- 
 ductions; and there ensued a series of indignant reclama- 
 tions on the part of Napoleon, and haughty evasions on that 
 of the Czar, which, ere long, satisfied all near observers that 
 Russia would not be slow to avail herself of any favorable 
 opportunity of once more appealing to arms. The year 1811 
 was spent in negotiations, neither party being ready for hos- 
 tilities, but both were making the most active preparations. — 
 The amount of the French army at the period in question is 
 calculated at 850,000 men; the army of the kingdom of Italy 
 mustered 50,000; that of Naples, 30,000; that of the grand 
 dutchy of Warsaw, 60,000; the Bavarian, 40,000; the VVest- 
 phalian, 30,000; the Saxon, 30,000; Wirtemberg, 15,000; Ba- 
 den, 9,000; Saxony, 30,000; and the minor powers of the 
 Rhenish league, 23,000. Of these armies Napoleon had 
 the entire control. In addition, Austria was bound to fur- 
 nish him with 30,000, and Prussia with 20,000 auxiliaries. — 
 The sum total is 1,187,000 men. Deducting 387,000— a large 
 allowance for hospitals, furloughs and incomplete regiments 
 — there remained 800,000 effective men at his immediate 
 command. The Spanish peninsula might perhaps occupy, 
 even now, 150,000; but still Napoleon could bring into the 
 field against Russia, an army of 650.000 men; numbers such 
 as had never before followed an European banner. The Em- 
 peror Alexander's resources were also extensive. He had 
 
Chap, xix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 
 
 I 
 
 400,000 regulars and 50,000 Cossacks already in arms, and 
 an enormous population, on which he had the means of draw-' 
 ing for recruits. £ 
 
 Napoleon, without waiting for any formal rupture with the 
 Russian diplomatists at Paris, now directed the march of 
 very great bodies of troops into Prussia and the grand 
 dutchy of Warsaw. Alexander's minister was ordered in 
 the beginning of April, to demand the withdrawal of these 
 troops, together wit'h the evacuation of the fortresses in 
 Pomerania, in case the French government still entertained 
 a wish to negotiate. Buonaparte instantly replied that he 
 was not accustomed to regulate the distribution of his forces 
 by the suggestions of a foreign power. The ambassador 
 demanded his passports, and quitted Paris. | 
 
 On the 9th of May, Napoleon left Paris with his Empress, 
 and arrived on the 16th at Dresden, where the Emperor of 
 Austria, the kings of Prussia, Naples, Wirtemberg and 
 Westphalia, and almost every German sovereign of inferior 
 t rank, had been invited, or commanded, to meet him. He 
 had sent to request the Czar also to appear in this brilliant 
 assemblage, as affording a last chance of an amicable ar- 
 rangement; but the messenger could not obtain admission to 
 Alexander's presence. Buonaparte continued for some days 
 to play the part of undisputed master amid this congregation 
 of royalties, and in the blaze of successive festivals the king 
 of Saxony appeared but as some chamberlain, *>r master of 
 ceremonies to his imperial guest. 
 
 Having sufficiently indicated to his allies and vassals the 
 conduct which they were respectively to adopt, in case the 
 war should break out, Napoleon, already weary of his splen- 
 did idlgaess, sent on the Abbe de Pradt to Warsaw, to prepare 
 for his reception among the Poles, dismissed Maria Louisa 
 on her return to Paris, and broke up the court in which he 
 had, for the last time, figured as the "king of kings." Mar- 
 shal Ney, with one great division of the army, had already 
 passed the Vistula; Junot, with another, occupied both sidesr 
 of the Oder. The Czar was known to be at Wilna, his Lith- 
 uanian capital, there collecting the forces of his immense 
 empire, and intrusting the general arrangements of the ap- 
 proaching campaign to Marshal Barclay de Tolly. The 
 season was advancing; and it was time that the question of 
 peace or war should be forced to a decision. 
 
 Napoleon arrived at Dantzic on the 7th of June; and dur- 
 ing the fortnight which ensued, it was known that the final 
 
240 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xix. 
 
 communications between him and Alexander were taking 
 place. The attention of mankind was never more entirely- 
 fixed on one spot than it was, during these fourteen days, 
 upon Dantzic. On the 22d, Buonaparte broke silence in a 
 bulletin. " Soldiers," said he, " Russia is dragged on by her 
 fate; her destiny must be accomplished. Let us march: let 
 us cross the Niemen: let us carry war into her territories.— 
 Our second campaign of Poland will be as glorious as our 
 first: but our second peace shall carry with it its own guaran- 
 tee: it shall put an end forever to that haughty influence 
 which Russia has exercised for fifty years on the affairs of 
 Europe." 
 
 The disposition of the French army when the campaign 
 commenced was as follows: — The left wing, commanded by 
 Macdonald, and amounting to 30,000 men, had orders to 
 march through Courland, with the view of, if possible, out- 
 flanking the Russian right, and gaining possession of the 
 seacoast in the direction of Riga. The right wing, composed 
 almost wholly of the Austrians, 30,000 in number, and com- 
 manded by Schwartzenberg, were stationed on the Volhynian 
 frontier. Between these moved the various corps forming 
 the grand central army under the general superintendence of 
 Napoleon himself, viz, those of Davoust, Ney, the king of 
 Westphalia, the viceroy of Italy, Poniatowski, Junot and 
 Victor,* and In numbers not falling below 250,000. The 
 communication of the centre and left was maintained by the 
 corps of Oudinot, and that of the centre and extreme right 
 by the corps of Regnier, who had with him the Saxon auxili- 
 aries and the Polish legion of Dombrowski. The chief 
 command of the whole cavalry of the host was assigned to 
 Murat, king of Naples; but he was in person at thj^ head- 
 quarters of the Emperor, having immediately under his order 
 three divisions of horse, those of Grouchy, Montbrun and 
 Nansouty. Augereau with his division was to remain in the 
 north of Germany, to overawe Berlin and protect the com- 
 munications with France. 
 
 A glance at the map will show that Napoleon's base of 
 operations extended over full one hundred leagues; and that 
 the heads of his various columns were so distributed, that the 
 Russians could not guess whether St. Petersburg or Moscow 
 formed the main object of his march. 
 
 The Russian main army, under Barclay de Tolly himself, 
 had its head-quarters at VVilna; and consisted at the opening 
 of the campaign, of 120,000. Considerably to the left lay 
 
Chap, six.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 241 
 
 "the second army," as it was called, of 80,000, under Ba- 
 gration; with whom were Platoff and 12,000 of his Cos- 
 sacks; while at the extreme of that wing "the army of 
 Volhynia," 20,000 strong, commanded by Tormazoff, watch- 
 ed Schwartzenberg. On the right of Barclay de Tolly was 
 Witgenstein with 30,000, and between these again and the 
 sea, the corps of Essen, 10,000 strong. Behind the whole 
 line two armies of reserve were rapidly forming at Novo- 
 gorod and Smolensko; each, probably, of about 20,000 men. 
 On the Russian side the plan of the campaign had been set- 
 tled ere now: it was entirely defensive. Taught by the 
 events of the former war in Poland, the Czar was resolved, 
 from the beginning, to draw Buonaparte if possible into the 
 heart of his own country ere he gave him battle. The va- 
 rious divisions of the Russian force had orders to fall back 
 leisurely as the enemy advanced, destroying whatever they 
 could not remove along with them, and halting only at cer- 
 tain points, where entrenched camps had already been formed 
 for their reception. The difficulty of feeding half a million of 
 men in a country deliberately wasted beforehand, and separa- 
 ted by so great a space from Germany, to say nothing of 
 France, was sure to increase with every hour and every step; 
 and Alexander's great object was to husband his own strength 
 until the polar winter should set in around the strangers, and 
 bring the miseries which he thus foresaw to a crisis. Na- 
 poleon, on the other hand, had calculated on being met by the 
 Russians at, or even in advance of, their own frontier; of 
 gaining a great battle; marching immediately either to St. 
 Petersburg, or to Moscow, and dictating a peace within the 
 walls of one of the Czar's own palaces. 
 
 On the 24th of June, the grand imperial army, consolida- 
 ted intb three masses, began their passage of the Niemen; 
 the king of Westphalia at Grodno; the viceroy Eugene at 
 Pilony, and Napoleon himself near Kowno. The Emperor 
 rode on in front of his army to reconnoitre the banks; his 
 horse stumbled, and he fell to the ground. " A bad omen — 
 a Roman would return," exclaimed some one; it is not cer- 
 tain whether Buonaparte himself or one of his attendants. — 
 The first party that crossed were challenged by a single Cos- 
 sack. " For what purpose," said he " do you enter the Rus- 
 sian country?" " To beat you and take Wilna," answered 
 the advanced guard. The sentinel struck spurs into his 
 horse, and disappeared in the forest. There came on at the 
 same moment a tremendous thunder storm. Thus began the 
 
 11 
 
242 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Chap. xix. 
 
 fatal invasion. No opposition awaited these enormous hosts 
 as they traversed the plains of Lithuania. Alexander with- 
 drew his armies deliberately as they advanced. The capital 
 itself, Wilna, was evacuated two days before they came in 
 sight of it; and Napoleon took up his quarters there on the 
 28th of June. But it was found that all the magazines which 
 Buonaparte had counted on seizing, had been burnt before 
 the Russians withdrew, and the imperial bulletins began al- 
 ready to denounce the babarous method in which the enemy 
 seemed resolved to conduct his defence. 
 
 Months before Napoleon left Paris, he had given orders for 
 preparing immense quantities of provisions of all kinds, to 
 be conveyed along with his gigantic host, and render him in- 
 pendent of the countries which might form the theatre of his 
 operations. The destruction of the magazines at Wilna was 
 a sufficient indication that the 1 Emperor had judged well in 
 ordering his commissariat to be placed on an efficient footing; 
 and his attention was naturally directed to ascertaining, ere 
 he advanced further, in how much his directions as to this 
 matter had been fulfilled. He remained twenty days at Wil- 
 na — a pause altogether extraordinary in a Buonapartean 
 campaign, and which can only be accounted for by his anxie- 
 ty on this head. The result of his inquiries was most unsat- 
 isfactory. The prodigious extent of the contracts into which 
 his minister of war had entered was adequate to the occa- 
 sion; but the movement of such enormous trains of cattle 
 and waggons as these contracts provided for must, under any 
 circumstances, have been tedious, and in some degree uncer- 
 tain. In this case they were entered into by French traders, 
 who, in consequence of Buonaparte's own practice in pre- 
 ceding campaigns, could have slender experience of the 
 method of supplying a great army in the field; by Germans, 
 who served him with reluctance; or, finally, by Polish Jews 
 — a race of inveterate smugglers, and consequently of invet- 
 erate swindlers. The result was, that after spending three 
 weeks at Wilna, the Emperor found himself under the neces- 
 sity, either of laying aside his invasion for another year, or 
 of urging it in the face of all the difficulties which he had 
 foreseen, arid, moreover, of that presented by a commissariat 
 less effective by two thirds than he had calculated on. 
 
 While Napoleon was detained in the capital of Lithuania 
 by the confusion and slowness which marked almost every 
 department of his commissariat at this great crisis, the ene- 
 my employed the unexpected pause to the best advantage. — - 
 
Chap, xix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 243 
 
 The Czar signed treaties of strict alliance with England, 
 Sweden and the Spanish Cortes, in the middle of July; and 
 the negotiation with Turkey was urged, under the mediation 
 of England, so effectually, that a peace with that power was 
 also proclaimed early in August. By these means Alexander 
 was enabled to withdraw whatever troops he had been main- 
 taining on the two flanks of his European dominions, and 
 bring them all to the assistance of his main army. Admiral 
 Tchichagoff, at the head of 50,000 soldiers hitherto opposed 
 to the Turks on the side of Moldavia, marched towards the 
 left wing of Barclay de Tolly's force; and the right, which 
 had gradually retired until it had reached a strong camp 
 formed on the river Dwina, was reinforced from Finland, 
 though not so largely. The enthusiasm of the Russian na- 
 tion appeared in the extraordinary rapidity with which sup- 
 plies of every kind were poured at the feet of the Czar. — 
 From every quarter he received voluntary offers of men, of 
 money and of whatever might assist in the prosecution of the 
 war. The grand dutchess, whose hand Napoleon had solicit- 
 ed, set the example by raising a regiment on her estate. — 
 Moscow offered to equip and arm 80,000 men. Platoff, the 
 veteran hetman of the Cossacks, promised his only daughter 
 and 200,000 rubles to the man by whose hand Buonpaarte 
 should fall. Noblemen every where raised troops, and dis- 
 played their patriotism by serving in the ranks themselves, 
 and intrusting the command to experienced officers, chosen 
 by the government. The peasantry participated in the gen- 
 eral enthusiasm, and flocked in from every province, demand- 
 ing arms and training. Two hundred thousand militia-men 
 were called out, and in separate divisions began their march 
 upon the camp. 
 
 Napoleon having done whatever lay in his power to reme- 
 dy the disorder of his commissariat, at length re-appeared 
 in the field. He had now determined to make St. Peters- 
 burg his mark; he counted much on the effects which a trium- 
 phal entry into the capital would produce throughout the 
 country; and the fleet at Cronstadt was in itseif a prize of 
 the utmost importance. He directed, therefore, all his efforts 
 upon the Dwina, where the Russian commander-in-chief had 
 now halted on extensive entrenchments, and on Riga. This 
 town, however, was now defended, not only by Essen, but 
 by the English sailors of Admiral Martin's fleet, and resisted 
 effectually; and Napoleon was repelled in three successive 
 attempts to force Barclay's camp at Dunaburg. 
 
244 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Chap. xix. 
 
 He upon this changed his plan of operations, and resolving 
 to march, not for Petersburg, but for Moscow, threw forward 
 the centre of his army, under Davoust, with the view of 
 turning Barclay's position, and cutting off his communication 
 with Bagration. That general was compelled by this move- 
 ment to pass the Dnieper (or Borysthenes;) and Barclay, on 
 perceiving the object of Davoust's march, broke up from the 
 camp on the Dwina, and retired upon Vitepsk, where he 
 hoped to be joined by Bagration. Davoust, however, brought 
 Bagration to action near Mohilow, on the 23d of July; and 
 as the French remained in possession of that town at the end 
 of the day, the Russians found themselves under the neces- 
 sity of altering the line of their retreat. Bagration inform- 
 ed Barclay that he was now marching, not on Vitepsk, but on 
 Smolensko, and the commander-in-chief felt the necessity of 
 abandoning Vitepsk also. During three days (the 25th, 26th 
 and 27th of July,) his troops were engaged with the French 
 at Vitepsk; and, the result was that the Russians left their 
 position and retired on the proposed point of junction. — 
 Meantime, Regnier, on the right wing, and Oudinot, on the 
 left, were defeated; the former by Tormazoff, the latter by 
 Witgenstein, both with severe loss. The Emperor halted at 
 Vitepsk for several days; his troops requiring refreshment. — 
 The Russian plan of defence was already ascertained — and 
 alarming. The country was laid utterly desolate wherever 
 they retired; every village was burned ere they quitted it; 
 the peasantry withdrew with the army and swelled its ranks. 
 Napoleon quitted Vitepsk on the 8th of August, and after 
 a partial engagement at Krasnoi, on the 14th, came in sight 
 of Smolensko on the 16th. The first and second armies of 
 the Czar (Bagration having at length effected his junction 
 with Barclay) lay behind the river which flows at the back 
 of this town; but it was occupied in great force. Three 
 times did Buonaparte attack it, and three times he was re- 
 pulsed. During the night the garrison withdrew, and joined 
 the army across the river — but ere they went they committed 
 the city to the flames, and, the buildings being chiefly of 
 wood, the conflagration, according to the French bulletin, 
 " resembled in its fury an eruption of Vesuvius." " Never, *' 
 continues the same bulletin, " was war conducted with such 
 inhumanity: the Russians treat their own country as if it 
 were that of an enemy. " With the exception of some trivial 
 skirmishes, they retreated unmolested from Smolensko to 
 Dorogobuz, and thence on Viasma; halting at each of these 
 
Chap, xix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 245 
 
 towns, and deliberately burning them in the face of the 
 enemy. 
 
 It now, however, began to be difficult in the extreme to 
 prevail on the Russian soldiery to continue their retreat. — 
 They had consented to retire in the beginning solely because 
 they were assured that such was the will of their Father — as 
 they affectionately call their sovereign; but reinforcements 
 were now joining them from the interior, and the skirmishes 
 which had occurred had so inflamed their spirits, that it seem- 
 ed impossible to restrain them much longer. At this period, 
 also, Barclay was appointed to the war-ministry at St. Peters- 
 burg, and Kutusoff, who assumed the command in his stead, 
 was supposed to doubt whether the system of retreat had not 
 been far enough persisted in. The new general at length 
 resolved to comply with the clamorous entreaties of his 
 troops, and fixed on a strong position between Borodino and 
 Moskwa, on the high road to Moscow, where he determined 
 to await the attack of Napoleon. It was at Gjatz that the 
 Emperor was informed of KutusofPs arrival, and of the uni- 
 versal belief that the Czar had at length consented to run 
 the hazard of a great battle. A little further on a Russian 
 officer, on some pretext, appeared with a flag of truce; his 
 real errand being, no doubt, to witness the state of the inva- 
 der's camp. Being brought into Napoleon's presence, this 
 man was asked, " What he should find between Viasma and 
 Moscow?" He answered, "Pultowa." 
 
 On the 5th of Sept. Napoleon came in sight of the position 
 of Kutusoff. His first operation was a successful attack upon 
 a redoubt in the Russian front, but which — a great error in war 
 — was situated too distant from it to be effectually supported. 
 The French gained it and kept it. The armies lay in presence 
 of each other all the next day, preparing for the approaching 
 contest. Upon a position naturally strong, the Russians had 
 raised formidable field works. Their right flank rested on a 
 wood, which was covered by some detached entrenchments. 
 A brook, occupying in its course a deep ravine, covered the 
 front of the right wing, and the centre of the position as/ar 
 as the river of Borodino; from that village the left extended 
 down to another village, which is more open, yet protected by 
 ravines and thickets in front. This, as the most Accessible 
 point, was anxiously secured by redoubts and batteries; and 
 in the centre of the position, upon a gentle elevation, arose a 
 sort of double battery, like a citadel, for the protection of 
 the whole line. 
 
246 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xix 
 
 In this strong position was stationed the Russian army, 
 equal now in numbers to the French, as each army might be 
 about 120,000 men. They were commanded by a veteran, 
 slow, cautious, tenacious of his purpose, wily, too, but per- 
 haps not otherwise eminent as a military leader. The army 
 he led were of one nation and language, all conscious that 
 this battle had been granted to their own ardent wishes, and 
 determined to make good the eagerness with which they had 
 called for it. 
 
 The French army, again, consisted of various nations; but 
 they were the seasoned soldiers who had survived the dis- 
 tresses of a calamitous march; they were the veterans of the 
 victors of Europe; they were headed by Napoleon in person, 
 and under his immediate command by those marshals, whose 
 names in arms were only inferior to his own. Besides a con- 
 sciousness of their superiority in action, of which 7 from the 
 manner in which the Russians had covered themselves in 
 entrenchments, they seemed aware, the French had before 
 them, the prospect of utter destruction, if they should sus- 
 tain a defeat in a country so difficult that they could hardly 
 advance even as a successful army, and certainly could never 
 hope to retreat as a routed one. Buonaparte addressed his 
 troops as usual. " Soldiers,'' he said, " here is the battle 
 you have longed for; it is necessary, for it brings us plenty, 
 good winter quarters, and a safe return to France. Behave 
 yourselves so that posterity may say of each of you, ' He 
 was in that great battle under the walls of Moscow.' " 
 
 In the Russian camp was a scene of a different kind. The 
 Greek clergy showed themselves to the troops, arrayed in 
 their rich vestments, and displaying for general worship the 
 images of their holiest Saints. They told their countrymen 
 of the wrongs which had been offered by the invaders to earth 
 as well as Heaven, and exhorted them to merit a place in 
 paradise by their behaviour in that day's battle. The Rus- 
 sians answered with shouts. Two deeply interesting circum- 
 stances occurred to Napoleon the day before the battle. An 
 officer brought him a portrait of his boy, the king of Rome, 
 which he displayed on the outside of the tent, not only to 
 satisfy the officers, but the soldiers, who crowded to look up- 
 on the son of their Emperor. The other was the arrival of 
 an officer from Spain with despatches, giving Napoleon news 
 of the loss of the battle of Salamanca. He bore the tidings 
 with temper and firmness, and soon turned his thoughts alike 
 from domestic enjoyments and foreign defeats, to forming the 
 necessary plans for the action before him. 
 
Chap, xix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 247 
 
 Davoust proposed a plan for turning the left of the ene- 
 my's entrenched line, by following the old road from Smo- 
 lensko to Moscow, and placing 35,000 men in the flank and 
 rear of that part of the Russian position. This operation 
 was partly to be accomplished by a night march and partly in 
 the morning, while the rest of the army was engaging the 
 enemy's attention in front. Such a movement must have cut 
 off the Russians from their point of retreat on Moscow; and 
 Davoust would have come down from his elevated position, 
 driving every thing before him, advancing from redoubt to re- 
 doubt, and dispersing reserve after reserve, till the Russians 
 should no longer have the semblance of an army. Napoleon 
 considered this plan too hazardous, as it would greatly weak- 
 en his front line, which might be attacked and broken before 
 Davoust could reach the desired position, he therefore de- 
 termined that Poniatowski, with about 5000 men should make 
 a demonstration on the enemy's left in the direction proposed 
 hy Davoust, and that then a general attack should commence 
 on the Russian right and centre. Foreseeing an obstinate 
 battle he had ordered as much artillery as possible to be 
 brought into line. The French had a thousand pieces of 
 cannon, and the Russians at least an equal number. The 
 battle began about six o'clock in the morning. The gallant 
 Ney attacked the bastioned redoubt on the Russian centre 
 with the greatest violence. He bore down upon them in a 
 solid column, supported by 50 pieces of cannon. The divis- 
 ions under Davoust and Poniatowski, advanced on the skirts 
 of the wood which supported the left of the Russians, and, 
 flanked by 70 pieces of cannon, they commenced the attack, 
 and were answered by a charge of musketry, which was re- 
 turned and received in alternate volleys. A dreadful fire 
 commenced at the same time from the redoubt which the 
 French had possessed themselves of on the 5th, while the 
 prince Eugine made efforts to dislodge the enemy from the 
 village of Borodino, and the adjoining fortifications. The 
 battle now became general, and no action was ever more 
 keenly debated, or at such an expenditure of human life.-— 
 The cavalry, animated at the exhortations of their generals, 
 galloped up to the very mouths of the Russian guns, and 
 were swept away in hundreds as they approached. The fury 
 of the French onset at length carried the redoubts, but the 
 Russians rallied under the very line of their enemy's fire, 
 and advanced again to the combat to recover their entrench- 
 ments. Regiments of peasants, who, till that day had never 
 
248 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xix. 
 
 seen war, and who still had no other uniform than their grey 
 jackets, formed with the steadiness of veterans, crossed their 
 brows, and having uttered their national exclamation, — " God 
 have mercy upon us!" — rushed into the thickest of the battle, 
 where the survivors, without fear or astonishment, closed their 
 ranks over their comrades as they fell, while, supported by a 
 religious sense of predestination, life and death seemed alike 
 indifferent to them. Three hundred pieces of cannon thun- 
 dered upon their masses as they advanced, and the Russian 
 soldiers died at the foot of those parapets which they had rais- 
 ed with so much labor as a protecting shelter. 
 
 There still remained to the Russians their redoubts on the 
 right. General Count Morand marched thither and carried 
 them, but being attacked on all sides he could not maintain 
 himself there. Encouraged by this success, KutusofF brought 
 up his reserves, the imperial guards forming a part of them, 
 and advanced to try his fortune again. He attacked the 
 French centre, where the battle still raged with unmitigated 
 fury. The discharge of a thousand pieces of cannon from the 
 hostile armies, the continued firing of volleys of musketry, 
 the struggle, arm to arm, of a host of embattled infantry, pre- 
 sented a scene unexampled in the annals of ancient or mod- 
 ern warfare. The Russians were driven back a short dis- 
 tance, where they stood their ground for two hours in close 
 order under the chain-shot of the French, unable to advance, 
 and unwilling to retire. Murat decided their uncertainty. — 
 He caused a terrific charge of cavalry to be made, who 
 penetrated through the breaches made by cannon shot in the 
 condensed masses of the Russians and the squadrons of their 
 cuirassiers — they dispersed on all sides. Count Caulain- 
 court advanced at the head of a regiment of French cuiras- 
 siers, and succeeded in entering the redoubt on the left by its 
 gorge and turned upon the enemy the 21 pieces of cannon 
 which it contained. The Russians, whose desperate efforts 
 had exposed them to such severe loss, were at length command- 
 ed to retreat. The battle ended, and left the French victo- 
 rious. They drew off, however, to their original ground, and 
 allowed the Russians possession of the bloody field, where 
 they buried their dead, and carried off their wounded. 
 
 Both parties sustained a dreadful loss in this sanguinary 
 battle. Among that of the Russians, the death of the gal- 
 lant Prince Bagration, was generally lamented. General 
 TouczkofT also died of his wounds; and many other Russian 
 generals were wounded. Their loss amounted to the awful 
 
Chap, acix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 249 
 
 sum total of fifteen thousand men killed, and more than thirty 
 thousand wounded. The French were supposed to have at 
 least ten thousand men killed, and double the number wound- 
 ed. Eight French generals were slain, of whom Monbrun and 
 Caulaincourt, brother of the Grand Equerry, were men of 
 distinguished reputation. About thirty other generals were 
 wounded. Some accounts raise the number of slain on both 
 sides to 100,000! In the course of the action the French fired 
 60,000 cannon-shot. Such was the victory in honor of which 
 Napoleon created Marshal Ney "Prince of Moskwa." 
 
 Kutusoff retreated the next day upon Mojaisk, without 
 leaving a single fragment to indicate that he had the day be- 
 fore sustained such an immense loss. Upon the 9th of Sep- 
 tember the French arrived at Mojaisk, and came again in 
 sight of the Russian guard, and made dispositions to attack 
 them. But on the 11th they found that the Russian army 
 had again disappeared, by a retreat so well conducted, and so 
 effectually masked and concealed, as to leave Napoleon alto- 
 gether uncertain whether they had taken the road to Moscow, 
 or to Kalouga. Owing to this uncertainty, Napoleon was 
 obliged to remain at Mojaisk till the 12th, when he received 
 positive intelligence that the Russian army had retreated up- 
 on their capital. 
 
 On the 12th Buonaparte resumed his march, the army hav- 
 ing no better guide than the direction of the high road, and 
 the men no better food than horse-flesh and bruised wheat. — 
 Upon the previous day, Murat and Mortier, who led the van- 
 guard, found the Russians strongly posted near Krymskoie, 
 where the inconsiderate valor of the king of Naples brought 
 on an action, in which the French lost two thousand men. — 
 Still Buonaparte pursued the traces of the Russians, because 
 he could not suppose it possible that they would resign their 
 capital without a second struggle. He was the more anxious 
 to meet it, as two divisions of the Italian army, under Laborde 
 and Pino, had joined him from Smolensko, which again carried 
 his numbers, sore thinned after the battle of Borodino, to up- 
 wards of 100,000 men. 
 
 A council of war, of the Russian generals, had been call- 
 ed, to deliberate on the awful question, whether they should 
 expose the only army which they had in the centre of Rus- 
 sia, to the consequences of a too probable defeat, or whether 
 they should abandon without a struggle, and as a prey to the 
 spoiler, the holy Moscow — the Jerusalem of Russia. To 
 hazard a second battle, was in a great measure to place the 
 
 11* 
 
250 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xix. 
 
 fate of their grand army upon the issue; and this was too 
 perilous an adventure even for the protection of the capital. 
 The consideration seems to have prevailed, that Napoleon 
 being now in the centre of Russia, with an army daily dimin- 
 ishing, and the hard season coming on, every hour during 
 which a decisive action could be delayed, was a loss to 
 France, and an advantage to Russia. It was, therefore, de- 
 termined, that the preservation of the army was more essen- 
 tial to Russia than the defence of Moscow, and it was agreed 
 that the ancient capital of the Czars should be abandoned to 
 its fate. 
 
 Count Rostopchin, the governor of Moscow, had, since 
 the commencement of the war, kept up the spirits of the 
 citizens with favorable reports and loyal declarations, quali- 
 fied to infuse security into the public mind. After the fate 
 of Smolensko, however, and especially after the recommence- 
 ment of Buonaparte's march eastward, many of the wealthy 
 inhabitants of Moscow removed or concealed their most val- 
 uable effeets, and left the city themselves. Rostopchin con- 
 tinued, however, his assurances, and took various means to 
 convince the people that there was no danger. Among other 
 contrivances he engaged a great number of females in the 
 task of constructing a very large balloon, from which he was 
 to shower down fire, as the people believed, upon the French 
 army. Under this pretext, he is stated to have collected a 
 large quantity of fire-works and combustibles, actually des- 
 tined for a very different purpose. 
 
 As time passed on, however, the inhabitants become more 
 and more alarmed, and forming a dreadful idea of the French, 
 and of the horrors which would attend their entrance into the 
 city, not only the nobility, gentry, and those of the learned 
 professions, but tradesmen, mechanics and the lower orders 
 in general, left Moscow by thousands, while the governor, 
 though keeping up the language of defiance, did all he could 
 to superintend and encourage the emigration. The archives 
 and public treasures were removed; the magazines, particu- 
 larly those of provisions, were emptied, as far as time per- 
 mitted; and the roads, especially to the south, were crowded 
 with files of carriages, and long columns of men, women 
 and children on foot, singing the hymns of their church, and 
 often turning their eyes back to the magnificent city, which 
 was so soon destined to be a pile of ruins. 
 
 The Grand Army of Russia arrived in the position of Fili, 
 near the capital; not, it was now acknowledged, to defend the 
 
Chap, six.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 251 
 
 sacred city, but to traverse its devoted streets, associating with 
 their march the garrison, and such of the citizens as were fit 
 to bear arms, and so leave the capital to its fate. On the 
 14th of September, the troops marched with downcast looks, 
 furled banners and silent drums through the streets of the 
 metropolis, and went out at the Kolonna gate. Their long 
 columns of retreat were followed by the greater part of the 
 remaining population. Meanwhile Rostopchin, ere departing, 
 held a public court of justice. Two men were brought be- 
 fore him, one a Russian, an enthusiast, who had learned in 
 Germany, and been foolish enough to express at Moscow, 
 some of the old French republican doctrines. The other 
 was a Frenchman, whom the near approach of his country- 
 men had emboldened to hold some indiscreet political lan- 
 guage. The father of the Russian delinquent was present 
 He was expected to interfere. He did so; but it was to de- 
 mand his son's death. 
 
 " I grant you," said the governor, "some moments to take 
 leave and to bless him." 
 
 " Shall I bless a rebel!" said this Scythian Brutus. "Be 
 my curse upon him that has betrayed his country!" 
 
 The criminal was hewed down on the spot. 
 
 " Stranger," said Rostopchin to the Frenchman, " thou 
 has been imprudent; yet it is but natural thou shouldst de- 
 sire the coming of thy countrymen. Be free, then, and go 
 to meet them. Tell them there was one traitor in Russia, and 
 thou hast seen him punished." 
 
 The governor then caused the jails to be opened, and the 
 criminals to be set at liberty; and, abandoning the desolate 
 city to these banditti, and a few of the lowest rabble, he 
 mounted his horse, and putting himself at the head of his 
 retainers, followed the march of the army. 
 
252 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xx 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Napoleon enters Moscow, and takes up his quarters in the Kremlin. — 
 The " Holy City" plundered by the French and burnt by the Russians. 
 Napoleon proposes peace. Alexander refuses to treat. Napoleon quits 
 Moscow. Battle of Vincova and Malo-Yaraslovetz. Retreat of the 
 French Grand Army. Repeated Defeats and Sufferings of the French. 
 Smolensko. Krasnoi. Heroism of Ney. Passage of the Beresina. — 
 Napoleon quits the army. His arrival at Warsaw — at Dresden — at 
 Paris. Loss of the French Army, 450,000 men. 
 
 On the 14th of September 1812, while the rear-guard of 
 the Russians were in the act of evacuating Moscow, Napole- 
 on reached the hill called the Mount of Salvation, because it 
 is there where the natives kneel and cross themselves at first 
 sight of the Holy City. 
 
 Moscow seemed lordly and striking as ever, with the steep- 
 les of its thirty churches, and its copper domes glittering in 
 the sun; its palaces of Eastern architecture, mingled with 
 trees, and surrounded with gardens; and its Kremlin, a huge 
 triangular mass of towers, something between a palace and a 
 castle, which rose like a citadel out of the general mass of 
 groves and buildings. But not a chimney sent up smoke, not 
 a man appeared on the battlements, or at the gates. Na- 
 poleon gazed every moment, expecting to see a train of 
 bearded boyards arriving to fling themselves at his feet, and 
 place their wealth at his disposal. His first exclamation was, 
 "Behold at last that celebrated city!" His next, " It was 
 full time." His army, less regardful of the past or the fu- 
 ture, fixed their eyes on the goal of their wishes, and a shout 
 of " Moscow: — Moscow!" — passed from rank to rank. 
 
 Meantime no one interrupted his mediations, until a mes- 
 sage came from Murat. He had pushed in among the Cos- 
 sacks, who covered the rear of the Russians, and readily ad- 
 mitted to a parley the chivalrous champion, whom they at 
 once recognised, having so often seen him blazing in the van 
 of the French cavalry. The message which he sent to 
 Buonaparte intimated, that Miloradovitch threatened to burn 
 the town, if his reaAvas not allowed time to march through 
 it. This was a tone of defiance. Napoleon, however grant- 
 ed the armistice, for which no inhabitants were left to be 
 
 grateful. . 
 
 After waiting two hours, he received from some French m- 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 253 
 
 habitants, who had hidden themselves during the evacuation 
 the strange intelligence that Moscow was deserted by its 
 population. The tidings that a population of two hundred 
 and fifty thousand persons had left their native city was in- 
 credible, and Napoleon still commanded the boyards, the 
 public functionaries, to be brought before him; nor could he 
 be convinced of what had actually happened, till they led to 
 his presence some of that refuse of humanity, the only live 
 creatures they could find in the city, but they were wretches 
 of the lowest rank. When he was at last convinced that the 
 desertion of the capital was universal, he smiled bitterly, and 
 said, " The Russians will soon learn better the value of their 
 capital. '* 
 
 The signal was now given for the troops to advance; and 
 the columns, still in a state of wonder at the solitude and si- 
 lence which received them everywhere, penetrated through that 
 assemblage of huts, mingled with palaces, where it seemed 
 that penury, which had scarce means to obtain the ordinary 
 necessaries of life, had for the next door neighbor all the 
 wealth and profuse expenditure of the East. At once the si- 
 lence was broken by a vo/ley of musketry, which some mis- 
 erable fanatics poured from the battlements of the Kremlin 
 on the first French troops that approached the palace of the 
 Czars. These wretches were most of them intoxicated; yet 
 the determined obstinacy with which they threw away their 
 lives, was another feature of that rugged patriotism of which 
 the French had seen, and were yet to see, so many instances. 
 
 When he entered the gates of Moscow, Buonaparte, as if 
 unwilling to encounter the sight of the empty streets, stopt 
 immediately on entering the first suburb. His troops were 
 quartered in the desolate city. During the first few hours 
 after their arrival, an obscure rumor, which could not be 
 traced, but one of those which are sometimes found to get 
 abroad before the approach of some awful certainty, an- 
 nounced that the city would be endangered by fire in the 
 course of the night. The report seemed to arise from those 
 evident circumstances which rendered the event probable, 
 but no one took any notice of it, until at midnight, when the 
 soldiers were startled from their quarters by the report that 
 the town was in flames. The memorable conflagration began 
 among the coachmakers' warehouses and workshops in the 
 Bazaar, or general market, which was the richest district of 
 the city. It was imputed to accident, and the progress of 
 the flames was subdued by the exertions of the French sol- 
 
254 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xx. 
 
 diers. Napoleon who had been roused by the tumult, hur- 
 ried to the spot, and when the alarm seemed at an end, he 
 retired, not to his former quarters in the suburbs, but to the 
 Kremlin, the hereditary palace of the only sovereign whom 
 he had e\er treated as an equal, and over whom his success- 
 ful arms had now obtained such an apparently immense su- 
 periority. Yet he did not suffer himself to be dazzled by the 
 advantage he had obtained, but availed himself of the blaz- 
 ing Bazaar, to write to the Emperor proposals of peace with 
 his own hand. They were despatched by a Russian officer 
 of rank, who had been disabled by indisposition from follow- 
 ing the army. But no answer was ever returned. 
 
 Next day the flames had disappeared, and the French offi- 
 cers luxuriously employed themselves in selecting out of the 
 deserted palaces of Moscow, that which best pleased the 
 fancy of each for his residence. At night the flames again 
 arose in the north and west quarters of the city. As far the 
 greater part of the houses were built of wood, the conflagra- 
 tion spread with the most dreadful rapidity. This was at first 
 imputed to the blazing brands and sparkles which were car- 
 ried by the wind; but at length it was observed, that, as often 
 as the wind changed, and it changed three times in that 
 dreadful night, new flames broke always forth in that direc- 
 tion, where the existing gale was calculated to direct them 
 on the Kremlin. These horrors were increased by the 
 chance of explosion. There was, though as yet unknown 
 to the French, a magazine of powder in the Kremlin; be- 
 sides that a park of artillery, with its ammunition, was drawn 
 up under the Emperor's window. Morning came, and with 
 it a dreadful scene. During the whole night, the metropolis 
 had glared with an untimely and unnatural light. It was now 
 covered with a thick and suffocating atmosphere, of almost 
 palpable smoke. The flames defied the efforts of the French 
 soldiery, and it is said that the fountains of the city had been 
 rendered inaccessible, the water-pipes cut, and the fire-en- 
 gines destroyed or carried off. 
 
 Then came the reports of fire-balls having been found 
 burning in deserted nouses; of men and women, that, like 
 demons, had been seen openly spreading the flames, and who 
 were said to be furnished with combustibles for rendering 
 their dreadful work more secure. Several wretches against 
 whom such acts had been charged, were seized upon, and 
 shot on the spot. While it was almost impossible to keep the 
 roof of the Kremlin clear of the burning brands which show- 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 255 
 
 ered down the wind, Napoleon watched from the windows 
 the course of the fire which devoured his fair conquest, and 
 the exclamation burst from him, " These are indeed Scy- 
 thians." 
 
 The equinoctial gales rose higher upon the third night, 
 and extended the flames, with which there was no longer any 
 human power capable of contending. At the dread hour of 
 midnight, the Kremlin itself was found to be on fire. A 
 soldier of the Russian police, charged with being the incen- 
 diary, was turned over to the summary vengeance of the 
 Imperial Guard. Buonaparte was then, at length persuaded, 
 by the entreaties of all around him, to relinquish his quarters 
 in the Kremlin, to which, as the visible mark of his conquest, 
 he had seemed to cling with the tenacity of a lion holding a 
 fragment of his prey. He encountered both difficulty and 
 danger in retiring from the palace, and before he could gain 
 the city gate, he had to traverse with his suite streets arched 
 with fire, and in which the very air they breathed was suffo- 
 cating. At length, he gained the open country, and took up 
 his abode in a palace of the Czar's called Petrowsky, about a 
 French league from the city. As he looked back on the fire, 
 which, under the influence of the autumnal wind, swelled 
 and surged around the Kremlin, like an infernal ocean around 
 a sable Pandemonium, he could not suppress the ominous ex- 
 pression, "this bodes us great misfortune." 
 
 The fire continued to triumph unopposed, and consumed in 
 a few days what it had cost centuries to raise. " Palaces 
 and temples," says a Russian author, u monuments of art, 
 and miracles of luxury, the remains of ages which had passed 
 away, and those which had been the creation of yesterday; 
 the tombs of ancestors, and the nursery-cradles of the pre- 
 sent generation, were indiscriminately destroyed. Nothing 
 was left of Moscow save the remembrance of the city, and 
 the deep resolution to avenge its fall." 
 
 The fire raged till the 19th with unabated violence, and 
 then began to slacken for want of fuel. It is said, four-fifths 
 of this great city was laid in ruins. On tire 20th, Buonaparte 
 returned to the Kremlin; and as if in defiance of the terri- 
 ble scene which he had witnessed, took measures as if he 
 were disposed to make Moscow his residence for some time. 
 He caused a theatre to be fitted up, and plays to be acted by 
 performers sent from Paris, to show perhaps that it was not in 
 the most terrible of elements to overawe his spirit, or inter- 
 rupt his usual habits of life. 
 
256 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xx 
 
 Buonaparte's object in pressing on to the capital at every 
 risk, was to grasp & pledge, for the redemption of which he 
 had no doubt Alexander would be glad to make peace on his 
 own terms. But the prize of his victory, however fair to the 
 sight, had, like that fabled fruit said to grow on the banks of 
 the Dead Sea, proved in the end but soot and ashes. Moscow, 
 indeed, he had seized, but it had perished in his grasp; and 
 far from being able to work upon Alexander's fears for its safe- 
 ty, it was reasonable to think that its total destruction had 
 produced the most vehement resentment on the part of the 
 Russian monarch, since Napoleon received not even the civ- 
 ility of an answer to his conciliatory letter. And thus the 
 acquisition so much desired as the means of procuring peace, 
 had become, by this catastrophe, the cause of the most irre- 
 concilable enmity. 
 
 Neither was it a trifling consideration, that Napoleon had 
 lost by this dreadful fire, a great part of the supplies, which 
 he expected the capture of the metropolis would have con- 
 tributed for the support of his famished army. Had there 
 existed in Moscow the usual population of a capital, he 
 would have found the usual modes of furnishing its markets 
 in full activity. These, doubtless, are not of the common 
 kind, for provisions are sent to this capital, not, as is usual 
 from fertile districts around the city, but from distant regions 
 whence they are brought by water-carriage in the summer, 
 and by sledges, which travel on the ice and frozen snow, 
 in the winter time. To Moscow, with its usual inhabitants, 
 these supplies must have been remitted as usual, lest the nu- 
 merous population of 250,000 and upwards, should be famish- 
 ed, as well as the enemy^s army. But Moscow deserted, 
 Moscow burnt, and reduced to mountains of cinders and ash- 
 es,- had no occasion for such supplies; nor was it to be sup- 
 posed that the provinces from which they were usually remit- 
 ted, would send them to a heap of ruins, where there remain- 
 ed none to be fed, save the soldiers of the invading army. — 
 This conviction came with heavy anticipation on the Emperor 
 of France and his principal officers. 
 
 Meanwhile, the ruins of Moscow, and the remnant which 
 was left standing, afforded the common soldiers an abundance 
 ©f booty during their short day of rest; and, as is their na- 
 ture, they enjoyed the present moment without thinking of 
 futurity. The army was dispersed over the city, plundering 
 at pleasure whatever they couW find; sometimes discovering 
 quantities of melted gold and silver, sometimes rich merchan- 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 257 
 
 dise and precious articles, of which they knew not the value; 
 sometimes articles of luxury, which contrasted strangely with 
 their general want of comforts, and even necessaries. It was 
 not uncommon to see the most tattered, shoeless wretches sit- 
 ting among bales of rich merchandise, or displaying costly 
 shawls, precious furs and vestments, rich with barbaric gold 
 and pearl. In another place, there were to be seen soldiers 
 possessed of tea, sugar, coffee and similar luxuries, while the 
 same individuals could scarce procure carrion to eat, or mud- 
 dy water to drink. Of sugar, in particular, they had such 
 quantities, that they mixed it with their horse-flesh soup. — ' 
 The whole was a contrast of the wildest and most lavish ex- 
 cess, with the last degree of necessity, disgusting to witness, 
 and most ominous in its presage. They esteemed themselves 
 happiest of all, who could procure intoxicating liquors, and 
 escape by some hours of insensibility from the scene of con- 
 fusion around them. 
 
 Napoleon and his officers toiled hard to restore some de- 
 gree of organization to the army. The plundering, which 
 could not be discontinued, was latterly set about more regu- 
 larly; and detachments were sent to pillage the ruins of Mos- 
 cow, as in turn of duty. The rest of the troops were with- 
 drawn from the city, or confined to their quarters in the 
 buildings which remained entire. Everything was done to 
 protect the few peasants, who brought provisions to the camp 
 for sale. Nevertheless few appeared, and at length not one 
 was to be seen. The utmost exertion, therefore, could not, 
 it was cbvious, render Moscow a place of rest for many days; 
 and the difficulty of choosing the route by which to leave it, 
 became now an embarrassing consideration. 
 
 There were three modes of proceeding on evacuating Mos- 
 cow, all of which had in their turn Napoleon's anxious con- 
 sideration. First he might march on St. Petersburg, and 
 deal with the modern, as he had with the ancient capital of 
 Russia. This counsel best suited the daring genius of Na- 
 poleon, ever bent upon the game by which all is to be lost, 
 or all won. The second proposed measure, was to move 
 southwards upon the fertile province of Kalouga, and thence 
 to proceed westward towards Smolensko, which was their 
 first depot. In this route Napoleon must have fought a gen- 
 eral action with Kutusoff, who had taken a position to the 
 south of Moscow. The third plan was, to return by the 
 route on which he had advanced, and on which, by a few 
 places hastily fortified, he still preserved a precarious com- 
 
258 - CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xx 
 
 munication with Smolensko, Witepsk, and so on to Wilna.— 
 This line, however, lay through the countries which had been 
 totally destroyed and wasted by the advance of the army, and 
 where all the villages and hamlets had been burned and aban- 
 doned, either by the French or the Russians themselves. To 
 take this direction was to confront famine. 
 
 Napoleon's hesitation on this important point, was increas- 
 edby the eagerness with which he still adhered to his own 
 plan for the "conclusion of the war, by a triumphant peace 
 with Alexander, concluded on the ruins of his capital. He 
 at length sent Count Lauriston to the head-quarters of Kutu- 
 sofF, with another letter to Alexander, which the count was to 
 deliver in person. Kutusoff received the Frenchman in the 
 midst of all his generals, and answered with such civility that 
 the envoy doubted not of success. The end, however, was, 
 that the Russian professed himself altogether unable to en- 
 tertain any negotiation, or even to sanction the journey of 
 any French messenger— such being, he said, the last and 
 most express orders of his prince. He offered to send on 
 Napoleon's letter to St. Petersburg by one of his own aides- 
 de-camp; and to this Lauriston was obliged to agree. This 
 interview occurred on the 6th of October; no answer from 
 St. Petersburg could be expected sooner than the 26th. — 
 There had been already one fall of snow. To retreat, after 
 having a second time written to the Czar, would appear like 
 the confession of inability to remain. The difficulty and 
 dangers attendant on a longer sojourn in the ruined capital 
 have already been mentioned; and they were increasing 
 with fearful rapidity every hour. It was under such circum- 
 stances that Napoleon lingered on in the Kremlin until the 
 19th of October; and it seems probable that he would have 
 lingered even more days there, had he not received the ti- 
 dings of a new reverse, near at hand, and which effectually 
 stirred him. His attendants have not hesitated to say, that 
 from the time when he entered Russia, his mind had seemed 
 to be in a state of indecision and lethargy, when compared 
 with what they had been accustomed to witness in previous 
 campaigns. From this hour his decision and activity(if in- 
 deed they had ever been obscured) appear to have been dis- 
 played abundantly. ... ■ ^ 
 
 Murat had, without Napoleon's command, and indeed in 
 opposition to his wishes, established a strange species of ar- 
 mistice with Kutusoff, under articles which provided that 
 three hours' notice must precede any regular affair between 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 259 
 
 the two armies confronted to each other, but allowed the pet- 
 ty warfare of the Cossacks and other light troops to proceed 
 without interruption on either flank. This armistice was 
 broken through as soon as Kutusoff had sufficiently disciplin- 
 ed the new recruits who had crowded to his standard from 
 every region of the empire. Murat then received considera- 
 ble reinforcements from Moscow, together with Napoleon's 
 commands to gain possession, if possible, of one of the roads 
 leading to Kalouga. There, and at Toula, the chief maga- 
 zines of the Russian army were known to be established; and, 
 moreover, by retiring in that direction towards Poland (should 
 a retreat finally be found necessary,) Napoleon counted on 
 the additional and far greater advantage of traversing a coun- 
 try hitherto unwasted. 
 
 Murat, accordingly, pushed his light troops over a new dis- 
 trict; and had the mortification to find the Russian system of 
 defence persevered in wherever he advanced. The splendid 
 country house of Rostopchin was burned to the ground, ere 
 the French reached it; and the following letter, affixed to its 
 gates, breathed the same spirit which had dared to sacrifice 
 Moscow; — " I have for eight years embellished this residence, 
 and lived happily in it with my family. The inhabitants of the 
 estate, in number 1720, quit it at your approach; and I set 
 fire to my house, that it may not be polluted with your 
 presence." 
 
 Kutusoff was no longer disposed to witness in inaction the 
 progress of Murat. He divined that Napoleon must at last 
 be convinced of the necessity of abandoning Moscow, and 
 determined that at all events he should not make his retreat 
 in the direction of Kalouga. General Bennigsen was order- 
 ed to attack Murat, on the 18th of October, at Vincovo; the 
 result was decidedly in favor of the Russians in whose hands 
 there remained nearly 3000 prisoners, and forty pieces of ar- 
 tillery. The cannonade was heard at the Kremlin; and no 
 sooner did the issue of the day reach Napoleon, than he made 
 up his mind to march his whole army to the support of the 
 king of Naples. 
 
 The French army, which filed from the gates of Moscow, 
 and which continued to move on in a living mass for many 
 hours, comprehended about 120,000 men, indifferently well 
 appointed, and marching in good order. They were followed 
 by no less than 550 pieces of cannon, a- train beyond propor- 
 tion to their numbers, and 2,000 artillery waggons. So far 
 the march had a martial and imposing aspect. But in the 
 rear of these came a confused crowd of many thousands con- 
 
260 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xx. 
 
 sisting of followers of the camp, stragglers who had rejoined 
 it, and prisoners, many of them employed in carrying, or 
 driving forward in wheelbarrows, the spoil of the conquerors. 
 
 KutusofF now perceived that he had to expect the attack of 
 a greater than Murat. The Russian general occupied a po- 
 sition at Taroutino, on the old road to Kalouga (the central 
 one of three nearly parallel routes,) so strong by nature, 
 and so improved by art, that Napoleon judged it hopeless to 
 attack him there. He therefore made a lateral movement, 
 and pushed on by the western road, meaning, after he had 
 passed Taroutino, to strike back again into the central one, 
 and so interpose himself between KutusofF and Kalouga. — 
 The .Russians, however, penetrated this plan; and instantly, 
 by a manoeuvre of precisely the same kind — marching to the 
 eastward, and thence back to the centre again, — baffled it. — 
 The French van, having executed the first part of their or- 
 ders, and regained the middle road in the rear of Taroutino, 
 advanced without opposition as far as Malo-Yaraslovetz, and 
 occupied that town. But at midnight they were assaulted 
 furiously within it, and driven back across the river Louja, 
 where the leading divisions of the army bivouacked. Early 
 in the morning the French retook Malo-Yaraslovetz at tho 
 point of the bayonet, and the greater part of the day was 
 spent in a succession of obstinate contests, in the course of 
 which the town five times changed masters. In the evening, 
 Napoleon came up with his main body. He found his troops, 
 indeed, in possession of the place; but beyond it, his generals 
 informed him, KutusofF and his whole army were now posted, 
 and this on a position at least as strong as that of Taroutino, 
 which he himself had considered unassailable. 
 
 The Emperor's head-quarters were in the wretched hut of 
 a poor weaver, and here an angry debate ensued between 
 Murat and Davoust; the former of whom urged the necessi- 
 ty of instantly attacking the Russians, while the latter pro- 
 nounced such an attempt to be worthy of a madman. The 
 Emperor heard them in silence, and declared that he would 
 judge for himself in the morning. 
 
 At day-break he passed the Louja, with a few attendants, 
 for the purpose of reconnoitring KutusofF's position. He 
 had scarcely crossed the bridge, when a party of PlatofF's 
 Cossacks, galloping furiously, and sweeping some scattered 
 companies of the French before them, came full upon the 
 Emperor and his suite. Napoleon was urged to seek safety 
 in flight; but he drew his sword and took post on the bank 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 261 
 
 by the way-side. The wild spearmen, intent on booty, plung- 
 ed on immediately below him, and after stripping some sol- 
 diers, retired again at full speed to their pulk, without having 
 observed the inestimable prize. The Emperor watched their 
 retreat, and continued his reconnoissance. It satisfied him 
 that Davoust had judged rightly. 
 
 He made another effort to force a passage southwards at 
 Medyn; but here also he was repelled, and forced to abandon 
 the attempt. Meantime, the army which had occupied Mos- 
 cow began to send forth its Cossacks on his rear. In a word, 
 it became apparent that if the retreat were to be urged, it 
 must now be in the direction of Verreia and Smolensko; that 
 is, through the same provinces which had been entirely wasted 
 in the earlier part of the campaign. 
 
 Kutusoff, whether merely overpowered for the moment with 
 that vague sentiment which Buonaparte's name had hitherto 
 been accustomed to inspire, or that he knew of a still better 
 position nearer Kalouga, was, in fact, retiring from his strong 
 ground behind Malo-Yaraslovetz, at the moment when the 
 French began to break up from the Louja. No sooner, how- 
 ever, was that movement known, than the Russian penetrat- 
 ed the extent of his adversary's embarrassments; and Pla- 
 toff, with the Cossacks, received orders to hang close on the 
 French rear, while Milarodowitch, with 18,000 men, pushed 
 directly on Viasma; and the main army, taking a parallel, 
 and, a shorter, though less practicable route, marched also 
 with the view of watching the retreat on Smolensko. 
 
 On the 28th of October, Napoleon himself, with 6000 
 chosen horse, began his journey towards Smolensko; the care 
 of bringing up the main body being given to Beauharnois, 
 while Ney commanded the rear. From the commencement 
 of this march, hardly a day elapsed in which some new ca- 
 lamity did not befall those hitherto invincible legions. The 
 Cossack3 of Platoff came on one division at Kolotsk, near 
 Borodino, on the 1st of November, and gave them a total de- 
 feat. A second division was attacked on the day after, and 
 with nearly equal success, by the irregular troops of Count 
 Orloff DenizofF. On the 3d, Milarodowitch reached the 
 main road near Viasma, and after routing Ney, Davoust and 
 Beauharnois, drove them through the town, which he entered 
 with drums beating and colors flying, and making a passage 
 for the rest of the army over the dead bodies of the enemy. 
 Beauharnois, after this, separated his division from the rest, 
 and endeavoured to push for Vitepsk, by the way of Dou- 
 
262 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. x» 
 
 chowtchina, and Platoff followed him, while Milarodowitch 
 continued the pursuit on the main road. The separation of 
 troops so pressed is a sufficient proof that they were already 
 suffering severely for want of food; but their miseries were 
 about to be heightened by the arrival of a new enemy. On 
 the 6th of November, the Russian winter fairly set in; and 
 thenceforth, between the heavy columns of regular troops 
 which on every side watched and threatened them, the con- 
 tinual assaults of the Cossacks, who hung around them in 
 clouds by day and by night, rushing on every detached party, 
 disturbing every bivouac, breaking up bridges before, and de- 
 stroying every straggler behind them, and the terrible severi- 
 ty of the climate, the frost, the snow, the wind — the suffer- 
 ings of this once magnificent army were such as to baffle all 
 description. 
 
 The enormous train ol artillery which Napoleon had insist- 
 ed on bringing away from Moscow was soon diminished; and 
 the roads were blocked up with the spoils of the city; aban- 
 doned of necessity as the means of transport failed. The 
 horses having been ill fed for months, were altogether unable 
 to resist the united effects of cold and fatigue. They sank 
 and stiffened by hundreds and by thousands. The starving 
 soldiery slew others of these animals, that they might drink 
 their warm blood, and wrap themselves in their yet reeking 
 skins. The discipline of these miserable bands vanished. — 
 Ney was indeed able to keep together some battalions of the 
 rear guard, and present a bold aspect to the pursuers — the 
 Marshal himself not disdaining to bear a firelock, and share 
 the meanest fatigues of his followers; but elsewhere there 
 remained hardly the shadow of military order. Small and 
 detached bodies of men moved, like soldiers, on the highway 
 — the immense majority dispersed themselves over the ice 
 and snow which equalized the surface of the fields on either 
 side, and there sustained from time to time the rapid and 
 merciless charge of the Cossacks. 
 
 Beauharnois, meantime, discovered, ere he had advanced 
 far on his separate route, that Witgenstein, having defeated 
 successively St. Cyr and Victor on the Dwina, was already 
 in possession of Vitepsk. The Viceroy therefore was com- 
 pelled to turn back towards the Smolensko road. Platoff 
 turned with him, and brought him once more to action, 
 "killing many," said the Hetman's despatch, " but making 
 few prisoners." The army of Italy, if it could still be called 
 an army, mingled with the few troops who still preserved 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 263 
 
 some show of order under Ney, ere they came in sight of 
 Smolensko, and communicated to them their own terror and 
 confusion. 
 
 Meanwhile, the Russian u army of Volhynia," after it was 
 strengthened by the arrival of Tchichagoff from the Danube, 
 had been able to bear down all the opposition of Schwartzen- 
 berg and Regnier; had driven their forces before them, and 
 taken possession of Napoleon's great depot, Minsk, from 
 which they might hope ere long to communicate with Wit- 
 genstein. The armies of Witgenstein and Tchichagoff were 
 then about to be in communication with each other, and in 
 possession of those points at which Napoleon was most likely 
 to attempt his escape from Smolensko into Poland; while the 
 main army itself, having advanced side by side with the 
 French, was now stationed to the south-west of Smolensko, 
 in readiness to break the enemy's march whenever Kutusoff 
 should choose: Milarodowitch, finally, and Platoff, were 
 hanging close behind, and thinning every hour the miserable 
 bands who had no longer heart, nor, for the most part, arms 
 of any kind, wherewith to resist them. But the whole extent 
 of these misfortunes was not known to any of the French 
 generals, nor even to Napoleon himself, at the time when 
 Beauharnois and Ney at length entered Smolensko. 
 
 The name of that town had hitherto been the only spell 
 that preserved any hope within the soldiers on the retreat. — 
 There, they had been told, they should find food, clothing, 
 and supplies of all sorts; and there, being once more assem- 
 bled under the eye of the Emperor, they would speedily re- 
 assume an aspect, such as none of the northern barbarians 
 would dare to brave. 
 
 But these expectations were cruelly oelied. Smolensko 
 had been, as we have seen, almost entirely destroyed by the 
 Russians in the early part of the campaign. Its ruined walls 
 afforded only a scanty shelter to the famished and shivering 
 fugitives; and the provisions assembled there were so inade- 
 quate to the demands of the case, that after the lapse of a 
 few days Buonaparte found himself under the necessity of 
 once more renewing his disastrous march. He had, as yet, 
 received no intelligence of the capture of Minsk by Tchicha- 
 goff. It was in that direction, accordingly, that he resolved 
 to force his passage into Poland. 
 
 Although the grand army had mustered 120,000 when it 
 left Moscow, and the fragments of various divisions besides 
 had met the Emperor at Smolensko, it was with great difficul- 
 
Z64 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xx. 
 
 ty that 40,000 men could now be brought together, in any- 
 thing like a fighting condition. These Napoleon divided into 
 four columns, nearly equal in numbers; of the first, which in- 
 cluded 6000 of the imperial guard, he himself took the com- 
 mand, and marched with it towards Krasnoi, the first town on 
 the way to Minsk; the second corps was that, of Eugene Beau- 
 harnois; the third, Davoust's; and the fourth, destined for 
 the perilous service of the rear, and accordingly strengthened 
 with 3000 of the guard, was entrusted to the heroic guidance 
 of Ney. The Emperor left Smolensko on the 13th of No- 
 vember, having ordered that the other corps should follow 
 him on the 14th, 15th, and 16th, respectively; thus interpos- 
 ing a day's march between every two divisions. 
 
 He himself, with his columns, reached Krasnoi unmolested, 
 although the whole of the Russian army, moving on a paral- 
 lel road, were in full observation of his march. Eugene, who 
 followed him, was, however, interrupted on his way by Milaro- 
 dowitch, and after sustaining the contest gallantly against 
 very disproportionate numbers, and a terrible cannonade, was 
 at length saved only by the fall of night. During the dark- 
 ness, the Viceroy executed a long and hazardous detour, and 
 joined the Emperor in Krasnoi, on the 17th. On this night- 
 march they fell in with the videttes of another of KutusofFs 
 columns, and owed their preservation to the quickness of a 
 Polish soldier, who answered the challenge in Russian. The 
 loss, however, had been severe; the two leading divisions, 
 now united in Krasnoi, mustered scarcely 15,000. 
 
 Napoleon was most anxious to secure the passage of the 
 Dnieper at Liady, and immediately gave Eugene the com- 
 mand of the van, with orders to march on this point; but he 
 was warned by the losses which his son-in-law had undergone, 
 of the absolute necessity of waiting at Krasnoi until Davoust 
 and Ney should be able to come up with him. He determin- 
 ed, therefore, to abide at Krasnoi, with 6J00 of the guard, 
 and another corps of 5000, whatever numbers KutusofT might 
 please to bring against him. He drew his sword, and said, u I 
 have long enough played the Emperor — I must be the general 
 once more." 
 
 In vain was KutusofT urged to seize this opportunity of 
 pouring an irresistible force on the French position. The 
 veteran commanded a cannonade — and, as he had one hun- 
 dred pieces of artillery well placed, the ranks of the enemy 
 were thinned considerably. But, excepting one or two iso- 
 lated charges of cavalry, he adventured on no closer col- 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 265 
 
 • 
 
 lisicn; and Napoleon held his ground in face of all that host, 
 until nightfall, when Davoust's division, surrounded and pur- 
 sued by innumerable Cossacks, at length were enabled to 
 rally once more around his head-quarters. 
 
 He had the mortification to learn, however, that Ney was 
 probably still at Smolensko, and that a Russian force had 
 marched on towards Liady, with the design of again inter- 
 cepting Eugene. The Emperor, therefore, once more divid- 
 ed his numbers — pushed on in person to support Beauharnois 
 and secure Liady — and left Davoust and Mortier. to hold out 
 as long as possible at Krasnoi, in the hope of being there 
 joined by Ney. Long, however, ere that gallant chief could 
 reach this point, the Russians, as if the absence of Napoleon 
 had at once restored all their energy, rushed down and forced 
 on Davoust and Mortier the battle which the Emperor had 
 in vain solicited. On that fatal field the French left forty-five 
 cannon and 6000 prisoners, besides the slain and the wound- 
 ed. The remainder with difficulty effected their escape to 
 Liady, where Napoleon once more received them, and cross- 
 ed the Dnieper. 
 
 Ney, meanwhile, having, in execution of Napoleon's part- 
 ing injunctions, blown up whatever remained of the walls and 
 towers of Smolensko, at length set his rear-guard in motion, 
 and advanced to Krasnoi, without being harrassed by any ene- 
 my except Platoff, whose Cossacks entered Smolensko ere he 
 could wholly abandon it. The field, strewn with many thou- 
 sand corpses, informed him sufficiently that a new disaster 
 had befallen the fated army. Yet he continued to advance 
 on the footsteps of those who had thus shattered Davoust and 
 Mortier, and met with no considerable interruption until he 
 reached the ravine in which the rivulet Losmina has its chan- 
 nel. A thick mist lay on the ground, and Ney was almost on 
 the brink of the ravine ere he perceived that it was man- 
 ned throughout by Russians, while the opposite banks display- 
 ed a long line of batteries, deliberately arranged, and all the 
 hills behind were covered with troops. 
 
 A Russian officer appeared, and summoned Ney to capitu- 
 late. " A marshal of France never surrenders," was his in- 
 trepid answer; and immediately the batteries, distant only 
 250 yards, opened a tremendous storm of grape shot. ^Gy 9 
 nevertheless, had the hardihood to plunge into the ravine, 
 clear a passage over the stream, and charge the Russians at 
 their guns. His small band was repelled with fearful slaugh- 
 ter; but he renewed his efforts from time to time during the 
 
 12 
 
3 86 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xx. 
 
 • 
 d ay, and at night, though with numbers much diminished, still 
 o jcupied his original position in the face of a whole army 
 interposed between him and Napoleon. 
 
 The Emperor had by this time given up all hope of ever 
 again seeing any thing of his rear column. But during the 
 ensuing night, Ney effected his escape; nor does the history 
 of war present many such examples of apparently insupera- 
 ble difficulties overcome by the union of skill and valor. — 
 The marshal broke up his bivouac at midnight, and marched 
 back from the Losmina, until he came on another stream, 
 which he concluded must flow also into the Dnieper. He 
 followed this guide, and at length reached the great river at a 
 place where it was frozen over, though so thinly that the ice 
 bent and crackled beneath the feet of the men, who crossed 
 in single files. The waggons laden with the wounded, and 
 what great guns were still with Ney, were too heavy for this 
 frail bridge. They attempted the passage at different points, 
 and one after another went down, amid the shrieks of the dy- 
 ing and the groans of the lookers-on. The Cossacks had 
 by this time gathered hard behind, and swept up many strag- 
 glers, besides the sick. But Ney had achieved his great ob- 
 ject; and on the 20th, he, with his small and devoted band, 
 joined the Emperor once more at Oresa. Napoleon received 
 him in his arms, hailed him as " the bravest of the brave," 
 and declared that he would have given all his treasures to be 
 assured of his safety. 
 
 The Emperor was once more at the head of his united ar- 
 my. Between Smolensko and the Dnieper the Russians had 
 taken 228 guns, and 26,000 prisoners; and, in a word, having 
 mustered 40,000 effective men at leaving Smolensko, Na- 
 poleon could count only 12,000, after Ney had joined him at 
 Oresa. Of these there were but 150 cavalry; and, to reme- 
 dy this defect, officers still in possession of horses, to the 
 number of 500, were now formed into a " sacred band/' as it 
 was called, for immediate attendance on the Emperor's per- 
 son. The small fragment of the once gigantic force, had no 
 sooner recovered something like the order of discipline, than 
 once more it was set in motion. 
 
 But scarcely had the Emperor passed the Dnieper, when he 
 received the tidings of the fall of Minsk, and the subsequent 
 retreat of Schwartzenberg towards Warsaw. It was there- 
 fore necessary to alter his plan, and force a passage into Po- 
 land to the northward of that great depot. It was necessary, 
 m jeover, to do this without loss of time, for the Emperor, 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 267 
 
 well knew that Witgenstein had been as successful on his 
 right fiank, as TchichagofF on his left; and that these gener- 
 als might soon be, if they already were not, in communica- 
 tion with each other, and ready to unite all their forces for the 
 defence of the next great river on his route — the Beresina 
 Napoleon had hardly resolved to attempt the passage of 
 this river at Borizoff, ere, to renew all his perplexities, he re- 
 ceived intelligence that Witgenstein had defeated Dombrows- 
 ki there, and retained possession of the town and bridge. — 
 Victor and Oudinot, indeed, advanced immediately to succour 
 Dombrowski, and retook Borizoff; but Witgenstein burnt the 
 bridge ere he recrossed the Beresina. Imperfect as Victor's 
 success was, Napoleon did not hear of it immediately. He 
 determined to pass the Beresina higher up, at Studzianska, 
 and forthwith threw himself into the huge forests which bor- 
 der that river; adopting every stratagem by which his ene- 
 mies could be puzzled as to the immediate object of his 
 march. 
 
 His 12,000 men, brave and determined, but no longer pre- 
 serving in their dress, nor, unless when the trumpet blew, in 
 their demeanour, a soldier-like appearance, were winding 
 their way amid these dark woods, when suddenly the air 
 around them was filled with sounds which could only proceed 
 from the march of some far greater host. They were prepar- 
 ing for the worst, when they found themselves in presence of 
 the advanced guard of the united army of Victor and Oudi- 
 not, who had, indeed been defeated by Witgenstein, but still 
 mustered 50,000 men, completely equipped, and hardly shak- 
 en in discipline. With what feelings must these troops have 
 surveyed the miserable, half-starved and half-clad remains of 
 that " grand army," their own detachment from whose ban- 
 ners had, some few short months before, filled every bosom 
 among them with regret. 
 
 Having melted the poor relics of his Moscow army into 
 these battalions, Napoleon now continued his march on Stud- 
 zianska; employing, however, all his wit to confirm Tchicha- 
 gofF in the notion that he meant to pass the Beresina at a dif- 
 ferent place, and this with so much success, that Tchaplitz, 
 with the Russian rear-guard, abandoned a strong position, 
 commanding the river, during the very night which preceded 
 his appearance there. Two bridges were erected, and Oudi- 
 not had passed over, ere Tchaplitz perceived his mistake, and 
 returned again towards Studzianska. 
 
 Discovering that the passage had already begun, and that 
 
268 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xx. 
 
 in consequence of the narrowness of the only two bridges, it 
 must needs proceed slowly, Tchichagoff and Witgenstein 
 now arranged a joint plan of attack. The latter once more 
 passed to the eastern bank of the river, and, having wholly 
 cut off one division of 7000, under Partonneaux, not far from 
 Borizoff, proceeded towards Studzianska. Platoff and his in- 
 defatigable Cossacks joined Witgenstein on this march, and 
 they arrived long ere the rear-guard of Napoleon could pass 
 the river. But the operations on the other side of the Bere- 
 sina were far less zealously or skilfully conducted. Tchicha- 
 gofF was in vain urged to support effectually Tchaplitz; who 
 attacked the French that had passed, and being repelled by 
 Victor, left them in unmolested possession, not only of the 
 bridges on the Beresina, but of long wooden causeways, ex- 
 tending for miles beyond the river, over deep and dangerous 
 morasses, and which, being composed of old dry timber, 
 would have required, says Segur, " to destroy them utterly, 
 but a few sparks from the Cossacks' tobacco-pipes." 
 
 In spite of this neglect, and of the altogether extraordinary 
 conduct of KutusofF, who still persisted in marching in a line 
 parallel with Napoleon, and refusing to hazard any more as- 
 saults, the passage of the Beresina was one of the most fearful 
 scenes recorded in the annals of war. Victor, with the rear 
 division, consisting of 8000 men, was still on the eastern side 
 when Witgenstein and Platoff appeared on the heights above 
 them. The still numerous retainers of the camp, crowds of 
 sick, wounded and women, and the greater part of the artil- 
 lery were in the same situation. When the Russian cannon 
 began to open upon this multitude, crammed together near 
 the bank, and each anxiously expecting the turn to pass, a 
 shriek of utter terror ran through them, and men, women, 
 horses and waggons rushed at once, pell-mell, upon the 
 bridges. The larger of these, intended solely for waggons 
 and cannon, ere long broke down, precipitating all that were 
 ifpon it into the dark half frozen stream. The scream that 
 rose at this moment, says one that heard it, " did not leave 
 my ears for weeks; it was heard clear and loud over the hur- 
 rahs of the Cossacks, and all the roar of artillery." The re- 
 maining bridge was now the only resource, and all indiscrimi- 
 nately endeavored to gain a footing on it. Squeezed, trampled, 
 forced over the ledges, cut down by each other, and torn by 
 the incessant shower of the Russian cannonade, they fell and 
 died in thousands. Victor stood his ground bravely until late 
 in the evening, and then conducted his division over the bridge. 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 269 
 
 There still remained behind a great number of the irregular 
 attendants, besides those soldiers who had been wounded dur- 
 ing the battle, and guns and baggage-carts enough to cover a 
 whole meadow. The French now fired the bridge, and all 
 these were abandoned to their fate. The Russian account 
 states, that when the Beresina thawed after that winter's frost, 
 36,000 bodies were found in its bed. 
 
 Tchaplitz was joined in his p-ursuit of the survivors by 
 Witgenstein and PlatofF, and nothing could have saved Na- 
 poleon but the unexpected arrival of a fresh division under 
 Maison, sent forward from Poland by Maret, Duke of 
 Bassano. 
 
 But the severity of the winter began now to be intense, 
 and the sufferings of the army thus recruited were such, 
 that discipline ere long disappeared, except among a few 
 thousands of hardy veterans, over whose spirits the Emperor 
 and Ney preserved some influence. The assaults of the 
 Cossacks continued as before; the troops often performed 
 their march by night, by the light of torches, in the hope of 
 escaping their merciless pursuers. When they halted, they 
 fell asleep in hundreds to wake no more. Their enemies 
 found them frozen to death around the ashes of their watch- 
 fires. It is said, among other horrors, that more than once 
 they found poor famished wretches endeavoring to broil the 
 flesh of their dead comrades. 
 
 On the 3d of December Napoleon reached Malodeczno, 
 and announced to his marshals that the news he had received 
 from Paris, and the uncertain nature of the relations with 
 some of his allies, rendered it indispensable for him to quit 
 his army without further delay. They were now, he said, al- 
 most within sight of Poland; they would find plenty of every 
 thing at Wilna. It was his business to prepare at home the 
 means of opening the next campaign in a ftianner worthy of 
 the great nation. At Smorgoni, on the 5th, the garrison of 
 Wilna met him; and then, having intrusted to these fresh 
 troops the protection of the rear, and given the chief com- 
 mand to Murat, he finally bade adieu to the relics of his host. 
 He set off at midnight in a traineau, accompanied by Cau- 
 laincourt, whose name he assumed: two other vehicles of the 
 same kind followed, containing, two officers of rank, Rustan, 
 the Emperor's favorite Mameluke, and one domestic besides. 
 
 Having narrowly escaped being taken by a party of irregu- 
 lar Russians at Youpranoui, Napoleon reached Warsaw at 
 nightfall, on the 10th of December. His ambassador there, 
 
270 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xs. 
 
 the Abbe De Pradt, who had as yet heard no distinct ac- 
 counts of the progress of events, was unexpectedly visited 
 by Caulaincourt, who abruptly informed him that the grand 
 army was no more. The Abbe accompained Caulaincourt 
 to an obscure inn, where the Emperor, wrapped in a fur cloak, 
 was walking up and down rapidly, beside a newly-lit fire. He 
 was received with an air of gayety, which for a moment dis- 
 concerted him; and proceeded to mention that the inhabitants 
 of the grand-dutchy were beginning to show symptoms of dis- 
 affection, and even" of a desire to reconcile themselves with 
 the Prussians, under whose yoke they feared they were des- 
 tined to return. The Abbe expressed his own satisfaction 
 that the Emperor had escaped from so many dangers.— 
 "Dangers," cried Napoleon, "there were none— I have 
 beat the Russians in every battle— I live but in dangers— it is 
 for kings of Cockaigne to sit at home at ease. My army is 
 in a superb condition still— it will be recruited at leisure at 
 Wilna, and I go to bring up 300,000 men more from France. 
 I quit my army with regret, but I must watch Austria and 
 Prussia, and I have more weight on my throne than at head- 
 quarters. The Russians will be rendered fool-hardy by their 
 successes— I shall beat them in a battle or two on the Oder, 
 and be on the Niemen again within a month." 
 
 Resuming his incognito and his journey, Napoleon reached 
 Dresden on the evening of the 14th of December, where the 
 king of Saxony visited him secretly at his inn and renewed 
 his assurances of fidelity. He arrived at the Tuilleries en 
 the 18th, late at night, after the Empress had retired to rest. 
 He entered the ante-chamber, to the confusion of her at- 
 tendants, who at length recognised him with a cry that roused 
 Maria Louisa from her slumbers; and Napoleon was welcom- 
 ed with all the warmth of undiminished affection. 
 
 "We return to tlfe grand army, or rather to the assemblage 
 of those who had once belonged to it, for of an army it had 
 scarce the semblance left. The soldiers of the Imperial 
 Guard, who had hitherto made it their pride to preserve some 
 degree of discipline, would, after the departure of Napoleon, 
 give obedience to the orders of no one else. Murat, to 
 whom the chief command had been delegated, seemed scarce- 
 ly to use it, nor when he did was he obeyed. If Ney, and 
 some of the marshals, still retained authority, they were only 
 attended to from habit, or because the instinct of discipline 
 revived when the actual battle drew near. 
 
 Still, some degree of order is so essential to human socie- 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 271 
 
 ty, that, even in that disorganized mass, the stragglers, which 
 now comprehended almost the whole army, divided into little 
 bands, who assisted each other, and had sometimes the aid of a 
 miserable horse, which, when it fell down under the burden of 
 what they had piled on it, was torn to pieces and eaten, while 
 life was yet palpitating in its veins. These bands had chiefs 
 selected from among themselves. But this species of union, 
 though advantageous on the whole, led to particular evils. 
 Those associated into such a fraternity, would communicate 
 to none save those of their own party, a mouthful of rye-dongh, 
 which, seasoned with gunpowder for want of salt, and eaten 
 with abouille of horse-flesh, formed the best part of their food. 
 Neither would they permit a stranger to warm himself at their 
 fires, and when spoil was found, two of these companies 
 often, especially if of different countries, fought for the pos- 
 session of it; and a handful of meal was a sufficient tempta- 
 tion for putting to death the wretch who could not defend his 
 booty. 
 
 To enhance misfortunes so dreadful, the cold, which had 
 been for some time endurable, increased on the 6th of De- 
 cember, to the most bitter degree of frost, being 27 or 28 
 degrees below zero. Many dropped down and expired in si- 
 lence, the blood of others was determined to the head by the 
 want of circulation; it gushed at length from the eyes and 
 mouth, and the wretches sank down on the gory snow and 
 were relieved by death. At the night bivouacs, the soldiers 
 approached their frozen limbs to the fire so closely, that, falling 
 asleep in that posture, their feet were scorched to the bone, 
 while their hair was frozen to the ground. In this condition 
 they were often found by the Cossacks, and happy were those 
 on whom the pursuers bestowed a thrust with the lance to fin- 
 ish their misery. Other horrors there were, which are better 
 left in silence. Enough has been said to show, that such a 
 calamity, in such an extent, never before darkened the pages 
 of history. In this horrible retreat, twenty thousand recruits 
 had joined the army since crossing the Beresina, where, in- 
 cluding the corps of Oudinot and Victor, they amounted to 
 80,000 men. But of this sum of 80,000 men, one half 
 perished between the Beresina and the walls of Wilna. 
 
 In such a plight did the army arrive at Wilna, where great 
 provision had been made for their reception. The magazine^ 
 were groaning with plenty, but, as at Smolensko, the admin- 
 istrators and commissioners, terrified for their own responsi- 
 bility, dared not issue provisions to a disorderly mob, who 
 
272 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xx. 
 
 .'■'.'. 'i 
 
 could neither produce authority for drawing rations, nor give 
 a regular receipt. The famished wretches fell down in the 
 streets before the magazines and died there, cursing with their 
 latest breath the ill timed punctiliousness of office, which re- 
 fused to starving men the morsel that might have saved their 
 lives. In other places of the town, stores of provision and li- 
 quors were broken open by the desperate soldiery, plundered 
 and wasted. Numbers became intoxicated, and to those, as 
 they sank down in the streets, death came before sobriety. The 
 sick who went to the hospitals, found them crowded ncri only 
 with the dying, but with dead, whose corpses were left to freeze 
 or to putrify on the stairs and in the corridors, and sometimes 
 in the apartments of those who yet survived. Such were the 
 comforts of Wilna, from which so much had been hoped. 
 
 Still, however, some of the citizens, moved by pity or ter- 
 ror, or from desire of gain, (for many soldiers had still about 
 their persons some remnants of the spoils of Moscow,) were 
 willing to give lodging and food to these exhausted phantoms, 
 who begged such relief sometimes with furious threats and 
 imprecations, sometimes in the plaintive tone of men ready 
 to perish. Distributions began to be made at the public stores; 
 and men who for long had not eat a morsel of bread, or re- 
 posed themselves upon any better lair than the frozen earth, 
 or under any other canopy save that of the snow-fraught sky, 
 deemed it Paradise to enjoy the most common household 
 comforts, of which we think so little while we enjoy them, 
 yet are miserable when they are abridged or withdrawn. — 
 Some wept for joy at receiving an ordinary loaf of bread, and 
 finding themselves at liberty to eat it, seated, and under a roof. 
 
 On a sudden the repast, which seemed earnest of a return 
 to safety and to social life, was disturbed by a distant can- 
 nonade,' which came nigher and nigher — then by the fire of 
 musketry — at length by their own drums beating to arms in 
 the streets. Every alarm was in vain; even the Imperial 
 Guard no longer attended to the summons. The soldiers 
 were weary of their lives, and it seems as if they would have 
 been contented to perish like the Jews in the wilderness, with 
 their food betwixt their teeth. At length the distant hourra, 
 and the nearer cry of Cossacks! Cossacks! which for some 
 time had been their most available signal for marching, com- 
 pelled them to tear themselves from their refreshment, and 
 rush into the street. 
 
 They fled once more, with such of their baggage as could 
 be most easily got into motion; but many fell beneath the 
 spears of the Cossacks, and not a few, it is said, were butch- 
 
Chap, xx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 273 
 
 ered deliberately in the moment of their perplexity, by their 
 Lithuanian hosts, the same Polish Jews who had already in- 
 flicted such irreparable injury on the whole army, by the non- 
 observance of their contracts. Shortly after, a waggon laden 
 with coin was overturned on the road, and the soldiers, lay- 
 ing aside all attention to their officers, began to plunder the 
 rich spoil. The Cossacks came up — but there was enough 
 for all, and friend and foe pillaged the imperial treasure in 
 company, for once without strife. It desC ;ves to be recorded, 
 that some soldiers of the Imperial Guard restored the money 
 which fell to their share on this occasion, when the weary 
 march at length reached its end. 
 
 They passed the Niemen at Kowno; and the Russians did 
 not pursue them into the Prussian territory. At the time 
 when they escaped finally from Poland, there were about 1000 
 in arms, and perhaps 20,000 more, utterly broken, dispersed, 
 and demoralized. To the honor of the Prussian people, the 
 wearied relics of Napoleon's grand army were received in 
 their country, if not with friendship, at least with compassion. 
 They took up their quarters, and remained for a time unmo- 
 lested, in and near Konigsberg. 
 
 Thus ended the invasion of Russia. There had been slain 
 in battle, on the side of Napoleon, 125,000 men. Fatigue, 
 hanger and cold had caused the death of 132,000; and the 
 Russians had taken of prisoners 193,000 — including 48 gen- 
 erals, and 3000 regimental officers. The total loss was, 
 therefore, 450,000 men. The eagles and standards left in the 
 enemy's hands were seventy-five in number, and the pieces 
 of cannon nearly one thousand. Exclusive of the Austrian 
 and Prussian auxiliaries, there remained of all the enormous 
 host which Napoleon set in motion in August, about 40,000 
 men; and of these not 10,000 were of the French nation. 
 
 12* 
 
274 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON [Chap.xm. 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 Napoleon's reception at Paris. His military preparations. Prussia de- 
 clares war. Bernadotte lands in Germany. The Russians advance in- 
 to Silesia. Napoleon heads his army in Saxony. Battle of Lutzen.— . 
 Battle of Bautzen. Congress of Prague. Austria declares war. Na- 
 poleon contends single-handed against Russia, Austria, Prussia, Swe- 
 den, England, Spain and Portugal. Battle of Dresden. Death of 
 Moreau. Singular conflict at Culm. 
 
 The wonderful energies of Napoleon's mind and the in- 
 fluence which he could exert over the minds of others, were 
 n^ver so striking as at this period of his reign. He had re- 
 turned to his seat of empire, at a dreadful crisis, and in a 
 most calamitous condition. The 29th bulletin had lifted the 
 veil from the events of the campaign, and declared the dread- 
 ful catastrophe, the loss of nearly half a million of men, with 
 all their arms, ammunition and artillery; the death of so many 
 children of France as threw the whole country into mourning. 
 Yet such was the influence that still clung to his name, that 
 his safe arrival restored, for the moment, appearances of com- 
 posure. No sovereign ever presented himself before his peo- 
 ple in a situation more precarious, or overclouded by such 
 calamities. He had left behind him cold and involuntary 
 allies changing fast into foes; and foes, encouraged by his 
 losses, threatening to combine all Europe in one great cru- 
 sade, having for its object the demolition of his power. Yet 
 Napoleon came, and seemed but to stamp on the eanh, and 
 armed legions arose at his call. The doubts and discontents 
 of the people disappeared like mists before the rising sun, 
 and the same confidence which had attended his prosperous 
 fortunes, revived in its full extent, notwithstanding his late re- 
 verses Every department of the public service appeared to 
 be animated with a spirit of tenfold activity. New conscrip- 
 tions were called for and yielded. Regiments arrived from 
 Spain and from Italy. Every arsenal resounded with the 
 preparation of new artillery— thousands of horses were pro- 
 cured in every province. Ere many weeks had elapsed, l\a- 
 poleon found himself once more in condition to take the hew 
 with not less than 350,000 soldiers. Such was the effect ot 
 his new appeal to the national feelings of this great and gal- 
 lant people. c t 
 On the 1st of March, 1813, Prussia signed a treaty ot al- 
 
Chap, xxi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 275 
 
 liance, offensive and defensive with Russia, and on the 16th 
 declared war against France. Napoleon received the decla- 
 ration with calmness, and declared u it was better to have an 
 open enemy than a doubtful ally." Six years had elapsed 
 since the fatal day of Jena; and, in spite of the watchfulness 
 of Napoleon, the Prussian nation had recovered in a great 
 measure its energies. The people answered the call of their 
 prince, as with the heart and voice of one man. Young 
 men of all ranks, the highest and the lowest, flocked indis- 
 criminately to the standard: the students of the universities 
 formed themselves into battalions, at the head of which, in 
 many instances, their teachers marched. The women flung 
 their trinkets into the king's treasure — the gentlemen melted 
 their plate — England poured in her gold with a lavish hand. 
 The Emperor of Russia, having masked several French gar- 
 risons in Prussian Poland, and taken others, pushed on with 
 his main army to support Frederick William. There was 
 some risk in leaving a number of hostile fortresses between 
 him and his own frontier; but this he encountered rather than 
 permit the Prussians to stand alone the first onset of Na- 
 poleon, of whose extensive preparations all Europe was well 
 aware. The aged Kutusoff having died, the command of the 
 Russian army was given to Witgenstein, while that of the 
 Prussians was entrusted to the celebrated Blucher. Addict- 
 ed to drinking, smoking and gambling, and little conversant 
 with the higher branches of war as an art, he was at first de- 
 spised by Napoleon. But he possessed such influence over 
 the minds of his men in the day of action, and was sure to 
 rally them so rapidly, and urge them on so keenly, that the 
 Emperor was forced to confess that no one gave him so much 
 trouble as that " debauched old dragoon." 
 
 The crown prince of Sweden landed with 35,000 at Stral- 
 sund, and advanced through Mecklenburg, while the sove- 
 reigns of Russia and Prussia were concentrating their armies 
 in Silesia. It was announced and expected that German 
 troops would join Bernadotte, so as to enable him to open the 
 campaign on the lower Elbe with a separate army of 100,000. 
 Lord Wellington was about to advance once more into Spain 
 with his victorious veterans. Three great armies, two of 
 which might easily communicate with each other, were thus 
 taking the field against Napoleon at once; and yet, he would 
 make no sacrifice whatever to secure the assistance of Aus- 
 tria. He still adhered to his resolution of entering into no 
 general peace which should not recognize Joseph as king of 
 
276 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, m ] 
 
 Spain; and refused absolutely to listen to any proposals 
 which included the cession either of Illyria or the Tyrol. — 
 Ere he once more left Paris, he named Maria Louisa regent 
 in his absence; but this was a circumstance not likely to have 
 much weight with the wavering councils of the Austrian. 
 
 JNfapoleon quitted Paris in the middle of April, and on the 
 18th reached the banks of the Saale; where the troops he 
 had been mustering and organizing in France had now been 
 joined by Eugene Beauharnois and the garrison of Magde- 
 burg. The Czar and his Prussian ally were known to be at 
 Dresden; and it soon appeared that, while they meditated a 
 march westward on Leipsic, the French intended to move 
 eastward with the view of securing the possession of that 
 great city. Of the armies thus about to meet each other's 
 shock in the heart of Saxony, there is no doubt that Buona- 
 parte's was considerably the more numerous. His activity 
 had been worthy of his ruputation; and a host nearly 200,000 
 strong was already concentrated for action, while reserves to 
 nearly a similar extent were gradually forming behind him on 
 the Rhine. The Russians had not as yet pushed forward 
 more than half their disposable troops beyond the Vistula — 
 wherever the blame lay, such was the fact; the Prussians, 
 unanimous as their patriotism was, had only had three months 
 to re-organize their establishments. Under such circumstan- 
 ces, the advance of the allies beyond the Elbe could only 
 have proceeded from their ardent wish to stimulate the spirit 
 of insurrection in the kingdom of Saxony, and the neigh- 
 boring states. It was obviously Napoleon's interest to bring 
 them to action while their numbers were thus unequal, and 
 ere the sole object of their hazardous advance could be re 
 alized. 
 
 The French army continued to-advance on Leipsic on the 
 south; the allies approached from the north to defend the 
 place. The centre of the French army was stationed at a 
 village called Kaya. It was under the command of Ney. 
 He was sustained by the Imperial Guard, with its fine artil- 
 lery drawn up before the well known town of Lutzen, which, 
 having seen the last conflict of Gustavus Adolphus, was now 
 to witness a more bloody tragedy. Marmont, who command- 
 ed the right, extended as far as the defile of Poserna, and 
 rested with his left upon the centre. The left wing of the 
 French reached from Kaya to the Elster. As they did not 
 expect to be brought to action in that place, or upon that day, 
 (May 2d,) Napoleon was pressing forward from his right, 
 
Chap, xxi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Sill 
 
 Lauriston being at the head of the column, with the purpose 
 of possessing himself of Leipsic, behind which he expected 
 to see the army of the allies. But these, encouraged by the 
 presence of the Emperor Alexander and King of Prussia, 
 had formed the resolution of marching southward along the 
 left bank of the Elster during the night, transporting them- 
 selves to the right bank in the morning, and assaulting with 
 the choicest of their troops, under Blucher, the centre of the 
 French, led by Ncy. The fury of the attack was irresistible, 
 and in spite of a most obstinate defence, the allies obtained 
 possession of Kaya, the point on which the centre of the 
 French army rested. This was a crisis worthy of Napoleon's 
 genius, and he was not wanting to himself. Assailed on the 
 flank when in the act of advancing in column, he yet con- 
 trived, by a masterly movement, to wheel up his two wings, 
 so as in turn to outflank those of the enemy. He hurried in 
 person to bring up his guard to support the centre, which was 
 in fact nearly broken through. The combat was the more 
 desperate and deplorable, that, on the one side, fought the 
 flower of the Prussian youth, which had left their universities 
 to support the cause of national freedom; and, on the other, 
 the young men of Paris, many of them of the best rank, who 
 bravely endeavored to sustain their country's long pre-emi- 
 nent claim to victory. Both combatted under the eyes of 
 their respective sovereigns, maintained the honor of their 
 country, and paid an ample tribute to the carnage of the day. 
 The battle lasted for several hours, before it could be judg- 
 ed whether the allies could carry their point by breaking 
 through the French centre, or whether the French, before 
 sustaining that calamity, would be able to wheel their wings 
 upon the flanks of the allies. At length the last event began 
 to be anticipated as the most probable. The distant dis- 
 charge of musketry was seen on right and left closing in- 
 wards on the central tumult, and recognized for the hre of 
 Macdonald and Bertrand, who commanded the French wings. 
 At the same time the Emperor made a successful struggle to 
 recover the village of Kaya, and the allies, extricating them- 
 selves from the combat, led back their exhausted forces from 
 between the forceps, as we may term it, formed by the clos- 
 ing wings of Napoleon, without further loss than the carnage 
 sustained in the field of battle. But that was immense. The 
 allies lost 20,000 men in killed and wounded. Blucher was 
 wounded, but refusing to retire, had his wounds dressed upon 
 the field of battle. Seven or eight French general were also 
 
278 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxi. 
 
 slain or wounded, and the loss of the French army was very- 
 severe. 
 
 The allies fell back on Leipsic, thence on Dresden, and 
 finally across the Elbe to Bautzen, where they selected a 
 strong position, and awaited the advance of the victorious 
 French. Napoleon entered Dresden on the 6th, and on the 
 12th was joined there by the king of Saxony, who certainly 
 had been individually a gainer by his alliance, and who still 
 adhered to it, in opposition to the wishes both of his people 
 and his army. The Saxon troops, who had been wavering, 
 once more submitted to act in concert with the French; and 
 Hamburg, which city had partaken in the movement of Prus- 
 sia, and all the country to the left of the Elbe, fell back for 
 the moment, into their hands. 
 
 Having replaced by wood-work some arches of the magni- 
 ficent bridge over the Elbe, at Dresden, which the allies had 
 blown up on their retreat, Napoleon now moved towards 
 Bautzen, and came in sight of the position on the morning of 
 the 21st of May. Its strength was obviously great. In their 
 front was the river Spree: wooded hills supported their right, 
 and eminences well fortified their left. As it was vain to 
 think of storming such a position in front, Napoleon had re- 
 course to the manoeuvre of modern war, which no general 
 better understood, — that of turning it, and thereby rendering 
 it unserviceable. Ney was, therefore, directed to make a 
 considerable circuit around the Russian extreme right, while 
 their left was attacked more closely by Oudinot, who was to 
 engage their attention by attempting to occupy the valleys, 
 and debouching from the hills on which they rested. For 
 this last attempt the Russians were prepared. Milarodowitch 
 and the Prince of Wirtemberg made good the defence on this 
 point with extreme gallantry, and the fortune of the day, not- 
 withstanding the great exertions of Buonaparte, seemed to 
 be with the allies. The next attempt was made on the forti- 
 fied heights on the right of the allies defended by the Prus-. 
 sians. Here also Napoleon encountered great difficulties, 
 and sustained much loss. It was not till he brought up all 
 his reserves, and combined them for one of those desperate 
 exertions, which had so often turned the fate of battle, that 
 he was able to succeed in his purpose. The attack was con- 
 ducted by Soult, and it was maintained at the point of the 
 bayonet. At the price of nearly four hours' struggle, in the 
 course of which the heights were often gained, lost, and 
 again retaken, the French remained masters of them. 
 
Chap, xxi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 279 
 
 At the very time when their right point of support was car- 
 ried by the French, the corps of Ney, with that of Lauris- 
 ton and that of Regnier, amounting to 60,000 men had es- 
 tablished themselves in the enemy's rear. It was then that 
 Blucher was compelled to evacuate those heights which he 
 had defended so long and so valiantly. But although the al- 
 lies were thus turned upon both flanks, and their wings in 
 consequence forced in upon their centre, their retreat was as 
 orderly as it had been after the battle of Lutzen. 
 
 The night closed, and the advantage which Napoleon de- 
 rived from this day of carnage was the cutting off the allies 
 from their retreat by the great roads on Silesia, and its capi- 
 tal Breslau, and driving them on the more impracticable roads 
 near the Bohemian frontier. The whole of the 22d was 
 spent in attacks upon the rear of the allies, which were re- 
 pelled by their coolness and military conduct. Napoleon 
 placed himself in the very front of the pursuing column, and 
 exposed his person to the heavy and well-aimed fire by which 
 Milarodowitch covered his retreat. At the heights of Reich- 
 embach, the Russian rear-guard made a halt, and while the 
 cuirassiers of the guards disputed the pass with the Russian 
 lancers, the French General Bruyeres was struck down by a 
 bullet. He was a veteran of the army of Italy, and favored 
 by Buonaparte, as having been a companion of his early hon- 
 ors. But fortune had reserved for that day a still more severe 
 trial of Napoleon's feelings. As he surveyed the last point 
 on which the Russians continued to make a stand, a ball kill- 
 ed a trooper of his escort close by his side. " Duroc," he 
 said, to his ancient and faithful follower and confident, now 
 the Grand Master of his palace, " fortune has a spite at us to 
 day." It was not yet exhausted. Some time afterwards as 
 Napoleon with his suite rode along a hollow way, three can- 
 non were fired. One ball shivered a tree close to Na- 
 poleon, and rebounding, killed General Kirchenner, and mor- 
 tally wounded Duroc, whom the Emperor had just spoken to. 
 A halt was ordered, and for the rest of the day Napoleon re- 
 mained in front of his tent, surrounded by his guard, who 
 pitied the Emperor, as if he had lost one of his children.-— 
 He visited the dying man, whose entrails were torn by the 
 shot, and expressed his affection and regret. From this time 
 he would listen to no reports or suggestions. " Every thing 
 to-morrow," was his invariable answer. He stood by Duroc 
 while he died; drew up with his own hand an epitaph to be 
 placed over his remains by the pastor of the place, who re- 
 
280 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Chap, xxi/ 
 
 i 
 ceived 200 Napoleons to defray the expense of a fitting monu- 
 ment; and issued also a decree in favor of his departed friend's 
 children. Thus closed the 22d. The allies, being strongly 
 posted during most of the day, had suffered less than the 
 French; the latter had lost 15,000, the former 10,000 men. 
 
 They continued their retreat into upper Silesia; and Na- 
 poleon advanced to Breslau, and released the garrison of Glo- 
 gau. Meanwhile, the Austrian, having watched these inde- 
 cisive though bloodly fields, once more renewed his offers of 
 mediation. The sovereigns of Russia and Prussia expressed 
 great willingness to accept it; and Napoleon also appears to 
 have been sincerely desirous of bringing his disputes to a 
 peaceful termination. He agreed to an armistice, and in 
 arranging its conditions, agreed to fall back out of Silesia; 
 thus enabling the allied princes to re-open communications 
 with Berlin. The lines of country to be occupied by the ar- 
 mies, respectively, during the truce, were at length settled, 
 and it was signed on the 1st of June. Napoleon then return- 
 ed to Dresden, and a general congress of diplomatists prepar- 
 ed to meet at Prague. 
 
 It may be doubted whether any of the allied powers who 
 took part in the congress did so with much hope that the 
 disputes with Napoleon could find a peaceful end. His re- 
 cent successes were to the general view dazzling, however in 
 reality unproductive, and must have been supposed to quicken 
 the flame of his pride. But it was of the utmost importance 
 to gain time for the advance of Bernadotte; for the arrival of 
 new reinforcements from Russia; for the completion of the 
 Prussian organization; and, above all, for determining the 
 policy of Vienna. 
 
 Metternich, the Austrian minister, repaired in person to Dres- 
 den; and, while inferior diplomatists wasted time in endless 
 discussions at Prague, one interview between him and N.apole- 
 on brought the whole question to a definite issue. Napoleon 
 assumed at once that Austria had no wish but to drive a good 
 bargain for herself, and asked broadly, " what is your price? 
 Will lllyria satisfy you? I only wish you to be neutral — I can 
 deal with these Russians and Prussians single-handed. " — 
 Metternich stated plainly that the time in which Austiia could 
 be neutral was past; that the situation of Europe at large 
 must be considered. Napoleon insinuated that he would be 
 happy to dismember Prussia, and give half her territories to 
 Austria. Metternich replied, that his government was resolv- 
 ed to be gained by no share in the spoils of others; that 
 
Chap, xxi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 281 
 
 events had proved the impossibility of a steadfast peace, un- 
 less the sovereigns of the continent were restored to the rank 
 of independence; in a word that the Rhenish confederacy 
 must be broken up; that France must be contented with the 
 boundary of the Rhine, and pretend no longer to maintain 
 her influence in Germany. Napoleon replied, " Come Met- 
 ternich, tell me honestly how much the English have given 
 you to take their part against me." 
 
 The Austrian court at length sent a formal document, con- 
 taining its ultimatum: the tenor of which Metternich had suf- 
 ficiently indicated in this conversation. Talleyrand and 
 Fouche, who had now arrived from Paris, urged Napoleon to 
 accede to the terms proposed. They represented to him the 
 madness of rousing all Europe to conspire for his destruction, 
 and insinuated that the progress of discontent was rapid in 
 France itself. Their arguments were backed by intelligence 
 of the most disastrous character from Spain. Wellington, on 
 perceiving that Napoleon had some what weakened his armies 
 in that country, when preparing for his Saxon campaign, had 
 once more advanced from the Portuguese frontier. He was 
 now in possession of the supreme authority over the Spanish 
 armies, as well as the Portuguese and English, and appeared in 
 greater force than ever. The French line of defences on the 
 Douro had been turned and abandoned; their armies had been 
 concentrated to withstand him at Vittoria, and there on the 21st 
 of June, Joseph Buonaparte and Marshal Jourdan had sus- 
 tained a total defeat. Napoleon was urged by his military, 
 as well as political advisers, to appreciate duly the crisis 
 which his affairs had reached. Berthier, and almost all the 
 generals on whose opinions he had been accustomed to place 
 reliance, concurred in pressing him, either to make peace on 
 the terms proposed, or to draw in his garrisons on the Oder 
 and Elbe, whereby he would strengthen his army with 50,000 
 veterans, and retire to the Rhine. There, they said, with 
 such a force assembled on such a river, and with all the re- 
 sources of France behind him, he might bid defiance to the 
 united armies of Europe. " Ten lost battles," replied he 
 " would not sink me lower than you would have me to place 
 myself by my own voluntary act; but one battle gained enables 
 me to seize Berlin and Breslau, and make peace on terms 
 compatible with my glory." 
 
 On the 11th of August, Austria signed an alliance, of- 
 fensive and defensive, with Russia and Prussia. On the 
 night between the 10th and 11th, rockets answering rockets 
 
282 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxr. 
 
 from height to height along the frontiers of Bohemia and 
 Silesia, had announced to all the armies of the allies this 
 accession of strength, and the immediate recommencement 
 of hostilities. 
 
 On neither side had the pending negotiation been permitted 
 for a moment to interrupt or slacken military preparation. — 
 Napoleon had sent Beauharnois into Italy, to be ready in case 
 of any Austrian demonstration in that quarter; and General 
 Wrede, with the Bavarian army, guarded his rear. An Aus- 
 trian army, 60,000 strong, was now ready to pass the Alps; 
 and, to watch Wrede, another corps of 40,000, under the 
 prince of Reuss, had taken their station. These were minor 
 arrangements. The forces now assembled around Napoleon 
 were full 250,000 in number, and disposed as follows: Mac- 
 donald lay with 100,000 at Buntzlau, on the border of Silesia; 
 another corps of 50,000 had their head-quarters at Zittau, in 
 Lusatia; St. Cyr, with 20,000, was at Pirna, on the great 
 pass from Bohemia; Oudinot at Leipsic, with 60,000; while 
 with the Emperor himself at Dresden remained 25,000 of 
 the imperial guard, the flower of France. The reader, on 
 referring to the map, will perceive that these corps were so 
 distributed as to present a formidable front on every point 
 where it was likely the allies should hazard an attack, and, 
 moreover, so that Napoleon could speedily reinforce any 
 threatened position with his reserve from Dresden. 
 
 The armies to be opposed were thus situated: behind the 
 Erzgebirge or Metalic mountains, and having their head- 
 quarters at Prague, lay the grand army of the allies, consist- 
 ing of 120,000 Austrians and 80,000 Russians and Prussians, 
 commanded in chief by the Austrian General Schwartzen- 
 berg. The French corps at Zittau and Pirna were prepared 
 to encounter these, should they attempt to force their way 
 into Saxony, either on the right or the left of the Elbe. — 
 The second army of the allies, consisting of 30,000 Russians 
 and Prussians, called the army of Silesia, and commanded by 
 Blucher, lay in advance of Breslau. The French corps at 
 Zittau and Buntzlau were in communication, and could con- 
 front Blucher wherever he might attempt to approach the 
 Elbe. Lastly, the crown prince of Sweden was at Berlin, 
 with 30,000 of his own troops, and 60,000 Russians and Prus- 
 sians. Oudinot and Macdonald were so stationed that he 
 could not approach the upper valley of the Elbe without con- 
 fronting one or the other of them, and they also had the 
 means of mutual communication and support. The French 
 
Chap, xxi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 283 
 
 had garrisons at Wittemberg, Magdeberg and elsewhere on 
 the Elbe; and between the main armies of the allies were 
 various flying corps of Russian and Prussian light troops. 
 
 On the whole, Dresden formed the centre of a compara- 
 tively small circle, completely occupied by the French; 
 while the allies might be considered as lying on part of a 
 much wider circle beyond them. Napoleon had evidently 
 arranged his troops with the view of provoking his enemies 
 to make isolated assaults, and so beating them in detail. — 
 But he was now opposed by generals well acquainted with 
 his system of tactics, and who had accordingly prepared a 
 counter-scheme expressly calculated to baffle the plan of 
 arrangements on which he had reckoned. The commanders 
 of the three allied armies agreed, that whosoever of them 
 should be first assailed or pressed by the French, should on 
 no account accept battle, but retreat; thus tempting Napoleon 
 in person to follow, leaving Dresden open to the assault of 
 some other great branch of their confederacy, and so en- 
 abling them at once to seize all his magazines, to break the 
 communications between the remaining divisions of his army, 
 and interpose a hostile force in the rear of them all — between 
 the Elbe and the Rhine. The plan of the allies is supposed 
 have been drawn up by two generals who had often served 
 under Napoleon — Bernadotte, the crown prince of Sweden, 
 and Moreau, who had some time ere this accepted the invita- 
 tion of the Emperor Alexander, and returned from his Ameri- 
 can exile, to take part in the war. The conduct of Moreau, 
 in placing himself in the ranks of the allies, will be praised 
 or condemned, according as men judge him to have been 
 swayed by patriotic motives, or by those of personal resent- 
 ment, and ambition. There can be no question that his arri- 
 val brought a great accession of military skill to their 
 councils. 
 
 Blucher made the first movement; and no sooner did Na- 
 poleon understand that he was threatening the position of 
 Macdonald than he quitted Dresden (15th of August) with 
 his guard and a powerful force of cavalry, and proceeded to 
 the support of his lieutenant. Blucher adhered faithfully to 
 the general plan, and retired across the Katsbach, in the face 
 of his enemies. Napoleon was still pursuing him in the di- 
 rection of the Neiss and Breslau, when he was informed that 
 Schwartzenberg had rushed down from the Bohemian hills. 
 He instantly abandoned Blucher to the care of Macdonald, 
 and sent his guards back to Dresden, whither he himself also 
 
284 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.xxi, 
 
 began his journey early on the 23d. Having driven St. Cyr, 
 and his 20,000 men, before him, Schwartzenberg (with whom 
 were the sovereigns of Russia and Prussia in person) made 
 his appearance on the heights to the south of the Saxon capi- 
 tal on the 2£th. The army of St. Cyr had thrown them- 
 selves into the city, and it* was now surrounded with fortifica- 
 tions of considerable strength. Yet had this vast host attack- 
 ed it at once, there is every reason to believe it must have 
 fallen ere Napoleon could have returned from Silesia. 
 
 On the 26th at break of day, the allies advanced in six col- 
 umns under a tremendous fire. They carried a great redoubt 
 near the city-gate of Dippoldswalde, and soon after another; 
 they closed on the French on every point; the bombs and 
 balls began to fall thick on the streets and houses of the terri- 
 fied city; and, in engaging all his reserves, St. Cyr, whose 
 conduct was heroical, felt he had yet too few men to defend 
 works of such extent. It was at this crisis, while although a 
 surrender was inevitable, that columns rushing forward with 
 the rapidity of a torrent, were seen advancing on Dresden 
 from the right side of the Elbe, sweeping over its magnificent 
 bridges and pressing through the streets, to engage in the de- 
 fence of the almost overpowered city. The Child of Destiny 
 himself was beheld amidst his soldiers, who, far from exhibit- 
 ing fatigue, notwithstanding a severe forced march from the 
 frontiers of Silesia, demanded with loud cries to be led into 
 immediate battle. Napoleon halted to reassure the king of 
 Saxony, who was apprehensive of the destruction of his capi- 
 tal, while his troops marching through the city halted on the 
 western side, at those avenues, from which it was designed 
 they should debouch upon the enemy. Two sallies were then 
 made under Napoleon's eye, by Ney and Mortier. The one 
 column, pouring from the gate of Plauen, attacked the allies 
 on the left flank; the others, issuing from that of Pirna, as- 
 sailed their right. The Prussians were dislodged from an 
 open space, called the Great Garden, which covered their 
 advance upon the ramparts; and the war began already to 
 change its face, the allies drawing off from the points they 
 had attacked fiercely, when they found them secured by 
 these unexpected defenders. They remained, however, in 
 front of each other, the sentinels on each side being in close 
 vicinity, until next morning. 
 
 Then amid a fierce storm of wind and rain, Napoleon re- 
 newed the battle. 200,000 men (such had been the rapid de- 
 cision of his orders to his various generals) were now gather- 
 ed round him, and he poured them out with such skill 3 on 
 
Chap, xxi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 285 
 
 either flank of the enemy's line, that ere the close of the 
 day, they were forced to withdraw altogether from their at- 
 tempt. Ney and Murat on the left flank, and Vandamme 
 on the right (at Pirna,) had taken possession of the two 
 chief roads into Bohemia, and in consequence they were 
 compelled to retreat by the comparatively difficult country 
 paths between. On either side 8,000 men had been slain 
 or wounded ; but with the French there remained from 15 to 
 20,000 prisoners, and twenty-six cannon; and the ablest of all 
 the enemy's generals had fallen. Early in the day, Buona- 
 parte himself ordered some half-dozen cannon to be fired at 
 once upon a group, apparently of reconnoitring officers, and 
 this was followed by a movement which was thought to indi- 
 cate that some personage of importance had been wounded. 
 A peasant came in the evening, and brought with him a bloody 
 boot and a greyhound, both the property, he said, of the great 
 man who was no more: the name on the collar was Moreau. 
 Both his legs had been shot off. He continued to smoke a 
 segar while they were amputated and dressed, in the presence 
 of Alexander, and died shortly after; thus, if he had erred, 
 paying the early forfeit of his errors. 
 
 Having seen this brilliant day to a close, Napoleon return- 
 ed to Dresden on horseback, his gray capote and slouched 
 hat streaming with water, while the indifferent appearance of 
 his horse and furniture, his awkward seat and carriage, made 
 a singular contrast with those of Murat, whose bearing as a 
 horseman was inimitable, and whose battle dress was always 
 distinguished by its theatrical finery 
 
 The venerable king of Saxony received his deliverer with 
 rapture, for to him, personally, Buonaparte certainly was 
 such, though considered by many of his subjects in a very 
 different light. Napoleon behaved generously after the ac- 
 tion, distributing money amongst the citizens of Dresden, 
 who had suffered from the cannonade, and causing the great- 
 est care to be taken of the wounded and prisoners belong- 
 ing to the allies. 
 
 The next morning this ever vigilant spirit was again on 
 horseback, directing his victorious troops in pursuit of the 
 enemy. They were despatched in different columns, to pur- 
 sue the allies on the broken roads by which they were com- 
 pelled to retreat, and to allow them no rest nor K<uge. No 
 frame, even of iron, could have supported the fatigues of 
 both mind and body to which Napoleon had subjected himself 
 within the last three or four days. He was perpetually ex- 
 
286 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. x»r. 
 
 posed to the storm, and had rarely taken rest or refreshment. 
 lie also suffered from having eaten some food of a coarse 
 and indigestible quality. Through one or other, or the whole 
 of these causes combined, Napoleon became very much in- 
 disposed, and was prevailed upon to return in his carriage to 
 Dresden, instead of remaining at Pirna, more close in the 
 rear of his pursuing battalions, to direct their motions. 
 
 Vandarnme continued the pursuit on the Pirna road. Se- 
 duced by the enormous prize which lay before him at Toplitz, 
 where the chief magazines of the allies had been established, 
 and on which all their broken columns were now endeavoring 
 to re-assemble, this brave and persevering soldier incautiously 
 advanced beyond the wooden heights of Peterswald into the 
 valley of Culm. A Russian corps suddenly turned on him, 
 and formed in line of battle. Their general, Count D'Oster- 
 man, assured them that the life of " their father" depended 
 on their steadfastness; a*nd no effort could shake them. The 
 battle continued till night, when Vandarnme ought undoubted- 
 ly to have retired to Peterswald. He lingered till the morn- 
 ing of the 30th; — when behind him on those very heights, ap- 
 peared the Prussian corps of Kleist, who had been wandering 
 and lost their way amid the forests. The French rushed up the 
 hill in despair, thinking they were intercepted by design. — 
 The Prussians on their part, doubted not that some other di- 
 vision of Napoleon's force was hard behind them, and rushed 
 down with the same fear, and the same impetuosity. The 
 two armies were thus hurled on each other like two conflict- 
 ing mobs, enclosed in a deep and narrow road, forming the 
 descent along the side of a mountain. The onset o£ the 
 French horse, under Corbinean, was so desperate, that many 
 or most of them broke through, although the acclivity against 
 which they advanced would not in other circumstances have 
 permitted them to ascend at a trot; and the guns of the Prus- 
 sians were for a moment in the hands of the French, who 
 slew many of the artillerymen. The Prussians, however, soon 
 rallied, and the two struggling bodies again mixing together, 
 fought less for the purpose of victory or slaughter, than to 
 force their way through each other's ranks, and escape in op- 
 posite directions. All became for a time a mass of confusion, 
 the Prussian generals finding themselves in th^ middle of the 
 Freneh — the French officers in the centre of the Prussians. 
 But the army of the Russians, wno were in pursuit of Van- 
 darnme, appearing in his rear, put an end to this singular 
 conflict. Generals Vandamme, Haxo and Guyoi, were made 
 
Chap, xxii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 287 
 
 prisoners, with two eagles and 7000 men, besides a great 
 loss in killed and wounded, and the total dispersion of the 
 army, many of whom, however, afterwards rejoined their 
 eagles. 
 
 Napoleon received the news of this calamity, however un- 
 expected, with the imperturbable calmness which was one of 
 his distinguished qualities. General Corbineau, who com- 
 manded in the singular charge of the cavalry up the hill of 
 Peterswald, presented himself before the Emperor in the con- 
 dition in which he escaped from the field, covered with his 
 own blood and that of the enemy, and holding in his hand a 
 Prussian sabre, which in the thick of the melee, he had ex- 
 changed for his own. Napoleon listened composedly to the 
 details he had to give. " One should make a bridge of gold 
 for a flying enemy," he said, " where it is impossible, as in 
 Vandamme's case, to oppose to him a bulwark of steel." He 
 then anxiously examined the instructions to Vandamme, to 
 discover if any thing had inadvertently slipped into them, to 
 encourage the false step which that general had taken. But 
 nothing was found which could justify or authorize his ad- 
 vancing beyond Peterswald, although the chance of possess- 
 ing himself of Toplitz must have been acknowledged as a 
 strong temptation. " This is the fate of war," said Buona- 
 parte, turning to Murat. "Exalted in the morning, low 
 enough before night. There is but one step between triumph 
 and ruin." 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 Battle of Wahlstadt. Grossbeeren and Dennewitz. Napoleon retires 
 from the Elbe. Great Battle of Leipsic, fought on the 16th and 
 18th October, 1813. French retreat. Battle of Hanau. Allies on 
 the Rhine. Napoleon arrives in Paris. 
 
 The advices which arrived at Dresden from the north of 
 Germany, were no balm to the bad tidings from Bohemia. — > 
 We must necessarily treat with brevity the high deeds of 
 arms performed at a considerable distance from Napoleon's 
 person, great as was their influence upon his fortunes. No 
 
288 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxii. 
 
 sooner did Blucher perceive that Napoleon had retired from 
 Silesia than he resumed the offensive, and descended from 
 the position he had taken up at Jauer. He encountered Mac- 
 donald, who was by no means prepared for this boldness, on 
 the plains between Wahlstadt and the river Katsbach, on the 
 26th of August, and after a hard fought day, gained the vic- 
 tory Oudinot, meanwhile, had advanced from Leipsic to- 
 wards Berlin, with the view of preventing Bernadotte from 
 effecting a junction with Blucher, or overwhelming the 
 French garrisons lower down the Elbe. The Crown Prince, 
 however, met and defeated him at Grossbeeren, on the 23d 
 of August; took Luckau, where 1000 men were in garrison, 
 on the 28th; and continued to advance towards Wittemberg, 
 under the walls of which city Oudinot at length concentrated 
 all his forces. Napoleon, perceiving the importance of this 
 point, sent Ney with new troops, and gave him the chief com- 
 mand, with strict orders to force his way to Berlin; so placing 
 Bernadotte between the Leipsic army and himself at Dresden. 
 Ney endeavored to pass the Swedes without a battle, but fail- 
 ed in this attempt. A general action was forced on him on 
 the 7th of September, at Dennewitz. He also was defeated: 
 10,000 prisoners and 46 guns remained in the hands of Ber- 
 nadotte; and Ney retreated upon Torgau. 
 i Napoleon had now recovered his health and activity; and 
 the exertions which he made at this period were never sur- 
 passed, even by himself. On the 3d of September he was in 
 quest of Blucher, who had now advanced near to the Elbe; 
 but the Prussian retired as before. Returning to Dresden he 
 received the news of Dennewitz, and immediately afterward 
 heard that Witgenstein had a second time descended towards 
 Pirna. He flew thither on the instant; the Russian also gave 
 way, (afraid probably, of one of those sudden strokes of in- 
 spiration, when Napoleon seemed almost to dictate terms to 
 fate) and the Emperor once more returned to Dresden on the 
 12th. Again he was told that Blucher, on the one side, and 
 Witgenstein on the other, were availing themselves of his 
 absence, and advancing. He once more returned to Pirna; 
 a third time the Russian retired. Napoleon followed him as 
 far as Peterswald, and, having contemplated with his own 
 eyes the scene of Vandamme's catastrophe, once more re- 
 turned to his centre point. 
 
 ; Towards Leipsic, however, as on a common centre, the 
 forces of France, and all her enemies were now at length 
 converging. The allies received the reinforcement of no less 
 
Chap, xxii,] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 289 
 
 than 60,000 Russians, under the command of Bennigsen. — 
 The most of them came from the provinces eastward of Mos- 
 cow; and there were to be seen attending them tribes of the 
 wandering Baskirs and Tartars, figures unknown in European 
 war, wearing sheep-skins, and armed with bows and arrows. 
 But the main body consisted of regular troops, though some 
 bore rather an Asiatic appearance. This was the last rein 
 forcement which the allies were to expect; being the Arriere- 
 ban of the almost boundless empire of Russia. Some of the 
 jwen had travelled from the wall of China to this universal 
 military rendezvous. JNapoleon himself, reached Liepsic 
 on the 15th of October, and almost immediately the heads of 
 Schwartzenberg's columns began to appear towards the south. 
 It was necessary to prepare on the northern side also, in case 
 Bernadotte and Blucher should appear ere the grand army was 
 disposed of; and, lastly, it was necessary to secure effectual- 
 ly the ground to the west of Leipsic; — a series of marshy 
 meadows interfused with the numerous branches of the 
 Pleisse and the Elster, through which lies the only road to 
 France. Napoleon, having made all his preparations, recon- 
 noitred every out-post in person, and distributed eagles, in 
 great form, to some new regiments which had just joined him. 
 The ceremonial was splendid; the soldiers knelt before the 
 Emperor, and in presence of the whole line, military mass 
 was performed, and the young warriors swore to die rather 
 than to witness the dishonor of France. 
 
 At midnight, three death -rockets, emitting a brilliant white 
 light, sprung into the heavens to the south of the city; these 
 marked the position on which Schwartzenberg (having now 
 with him the Emperor of Austria, as well as Alexander and 
 Frederick William) had fixed his head-quarters. They were 
 answered by four rockets of a deep red color, ascending on 
 the instant from the northern horizon; and Napoleon doubt- 
 ed not that he was to sustain on the morrow the assault of 
 Blucher and Bernadotte, as well as of the grand army of the 
 allies. Blucher was indeed ready to co-operate with Schwartz- 
 enberg: and though the crown prince had not yet reached his 
 ground, the numerical superiority of the enemy was very 
 great. Buonaparte had with him, to defend the line of vil- 
 lages to the south and north of Leipsic, 136,000 men; while 
 even in the absence of Bernadotte, who might be hourly look- 
 ed for, the allies mustered not less than two hundred and thir- 
 ty thousand. 
 
 The battle commenced on the southern side at day-break 
 
290 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxii 
 
 of the '16th. The allies charged the French line there six 
 times in succession, and were as often repelled. They were 
 now something in the condition of wrestlers who have ex- 
 hausted themselves in vain and premature efforts; and Napole- 
 on in turn, assuming the offensive, began to srrnw his skill 
 and power. It was about noon when a general advance took 
 place along the centre of the French. It was for some time 
 fearfully successful. The village of Gossa, hitherto occupied 
 by the allies, and in the very centre of their line, was carried 
 by the bayonet. The eminence called the Sheepwalk was al- 
 so in danger of being lost, and the exertions of Macdonald 
 put him in possession of the redoubt called the Swedish Camp. 
 The desperate impetuosity of the French fairly broke through 
 the centre of the allies. The king of Naples with Latour 
 Maubourg and Kellerman, poured through the gap and at the 
 head of the whole body of cavalry thundered forward as far 
 as Magdeberg, a village in the rear of the allies, bearing 
 down General Rayefskoi, with the grenadiers of the reserve^ 
 who threw themselves forward to oppose their passage. 
 
 But at this imminent moment of peril, while the French 
 cavalry were disordered by their own success, Alexander or- 
 dered the Cossacks of his Guard, who were in attendance on 
 his person, to charge. They did so with the utmost fury, as 
 fighting under the eye of their sovereign, disconcerted Buo- 
 naparte's manoeuvre, and bore back with their long lances 
 the dense mass of cavalry who had so nearly carried the day. 
 
 In the meantime, when the carnage was continuing oh the 
 southern side of Leipsic, a similar thunder of artillery com- 
 menced on the right, where Blucher had arrived before the 
 city, and suddenly come into action with Marmont, with at 
 least three men for one. Breathless aides-de-camp came gal- 
 loping to reclaim the troops of Souham, which, for the pur- 
 pose of supporting Poniatowski, had been withdrawn from 
 their original destination of assisting Marmont. They could 
 not, however, be replaced, and Blucher obtained, in conse- 
 quence, great and decided results. He took the village of 
 Moeckern, with twenty pieces of artillery, and two thousand 
 prisoners; and when night separated the combatants, had the 
 advantage of having greatly narrowed the position of the 
 
 enemy. 
 
 But the issue on the south side of Leipsic continued en- 
 tirely indecisive, though furiously contested. Gossa was still 
 disputed, taken and retaken repeatedly, but at length remain- 
 ed in possession of the allies. On the verge of the Pleisse, 
 
Chap, xxii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 291 
 
 the combat was no less dreadful. The Austrians of Bianchi's 
 division poured on Markleberg, close to the side of the river, 
 with the most dreadful yells. Poniatowski, with Augereau's 
 assistance, had the utmost difficulty in keeping his ground. — 
 From the left side of the Pleisse, Schwartzenberg manoeu- 
 vred to push a body of horse across the swampy river, to 
 take the French in the rear of the postion. But such of the 
 cavalry as got through a very bad ford, were instantly charg- 
 ed and driven back, and their leader, General Mehrfeldt, fell 
 into the hands of the French. An Austrian division, that of 
 Guilay, manoeuvred on the left bank of the Pleisse, as far 
 down as Lindenau, and the succession of bridges, which 
 forms on the western side the sole exit from Leipsic towards 
 the Rhine. This was the only pass which remained for re- 
 treat to the French, should they fail in the dreadful action 
 which was now fighting. Guilay might have destroyed these 
 bridges; but it is believed he had orders to leave open that 
 pass for retreat, lest the French should be rendered utterly 
 desperate, when there was no anticipating what exertions 
 they might be goaded to. 
 
 The battle, thus fiercely contested, continued to rage till 
 nightfall, when the bloody work ceased as if by mutual con- 
 sent. Three cannon-shot, fired as a signal to the more dis- 
 tant points, intimated that the conflict was ended for the time, 
 and the armies on the southern line retired to rest, in each 
 other's presence, in the very positions which they had occu- 
 pied the night before. The French had lost the ground 
 which at one period they had gained, but they had not relin- 
 quished one foot of their original position, though so fiercely 
 attacked during the whole day by greatly superior numbers. — 
 On the north their defence had been less successful. Marmont 
 had been forced back by Blucher, and the whole line of de- 
 fence on that side was crowded more near to the walls of 
 Leipsic. 
 
 Napoleon, in the meantime, had the melancholy task of 
 arranging his soldiers for a defence, sure to be honorable, and 
 yet at length to be unavailing. Retreat became inevitable; 
 yet, how to accomplish it through the narrow streets of a 
 crowded city; how to pass more than 100,000 men over a 
 single bridge, while double that number were pressing on 
 their rear, was a problem which even Buonaparte could not 
 solve. In this perplexity, he thought of appealing to the 
 sentiments of affection which the Emperor of Austria must 
 necessarily be supposed to entertain for his daughter and 
 grandchild. 
 
292 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxii. 
 
 General Mehrfeldt, the same Austrian officer who had come 
 to his head-quarters after the battle of Austerlitz, to pray for an 
 armistice on the part of the emperor Francis, had been made 
 prisoner in the course of the day, and Napoleon resolved to 
 employ him as his messenger. Mehrfeldt informed him that 
 the king of Bavaria had at length acceded to the alliance.-*- 
 This intelligence added to his perplexities, already sufficiently 
 great, the prospect of finding a new enemy stationed on the 
 line of his march to France. He entreated the Austrian to 
 request for him the personal intercession of Francis. " I will 
 renounce Poland and Illyria," said he, " Holland, the Hanse 
 Towns, and Spain. I will consent to lose the sovereignty of 
 the kingdom of Italy, provided that state remain as an indepen- 
 dent one, and I will evacuate all Germany. Adieu count Mehr- 
 feldt, when on my part you name the word armistice to the 
 two Emperors, I doubt not the sound will awaken many re- 
 collections." Words affecting by their simplicity, and which 
 coming from so proud a heart, and one who was reduced to ask 
 the generosity which he had formerly extended, cannot be re- 
 corded without strong sympathy. 
 
 It was now too late : the allied princes had sworn to each 
 other to entertain no treaty while one French soldier remain- 
 ed on the eastern side of the Rhine. Napoleon received no 
 answer to his message; and prepared for the difficult task of 
 retreating with 100,000 men, through a crowded town, in pres- 
 ence of an enemy already twice as numerous, and in hourly 
 expectation of being joined by a third great and victorious 
 army. The 17th was spent in preparations on both sides, 
 without any actual hostilities, excepting when a distant can- 
 nonade, like the growling of some huge monster, showed that 
 war was only slumbering, and that but lightly. At eight 
 o'clock on the 18th of October, the battle was renewed with 
 tenfold fury. Napoleon had considerably contracted his cir- 
 cuit of defence; on the external range of heights and vil- 
 lages, which had been so desperately defended on the 16th, 
 the allies now found no opposition but that of outposts. The 
 French were posted in an interior line nearer to Leipsic, of 
 which Probtsheyda was the central point. Napoleon himself, 
 stationed on an eminence called Thonberg, commanded a 
 prospect of the whole field. Masses were drawn up behind 
 the villages, which relieved the defenders from time to time 
 with fresh troops; cannon were placed in their front and on 
 their flanks, and every patch of wooded ground which afford- 
 ed the least shelter, was filled with tirailleurs. The battle 
 
Chap, xxii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 293 
 
 then joined on all sides. The Poles with their gallant Gen- 
 eral Poniatowski, to whom this was to prove the last of his 
 fields, defended the banks of the Pleisse, and the villages 
 connected with it. In the centre, Barclay, Witgenstein and 
 Kleist, advanced on Probtsheyda, where they were opposed 
 by the king of Naples, Victor, Augereau and Lauriston, un- 
 der the eye of Napoleon himself. On the left, Macdonald had 
 drawn back his division to a village called Stoetteritz, which 
 was the post assigned to him on the new and restricted line 
 of defence. Along all this extended southern line, the fire 
 continued furious on both sides, nor could the terrified spec- 
 tators, from the walls and steeples of Leipsic, perceive that 
 it either advanced or recoiled. The French had the advan- 
 tage of situation and cover, the allies that of greatly superior 
 numbers; both were commanded by the first generals of their 
 country and age. 
 
 About two o'clock, afternoon, the allies, under General 
 Pirch and Prince Augustus of Prussia, forced their way head- 
 long into Probtsheyda; the camp-followers began to fly; the 
 noise of the tumult overcame almost the fire of the artillery. — 
 Napoleon, in the rear, but yet on the verge of this tumult, pre- 
 served his entire tranquillity. He placed the reserve of the 
 Old Guard in order, led them in person to recover the vil- 
 lage, and saw them force their entrance, ere he retreated to 
 the eminence from which he observed the action. During 
 the whole of this eventful day, in which he might be said to 
 fight less for victory than for safety, this wonderful man con- 
 tinued calm, decided, collected and supported his diminished 
 and broken squadrons in their valiant defence, with a pres- 
 ence of mind and courage, as determined as he had so often 
 exhibited in directing the tide of onward victory. Perhaps 
 his military talents were more to be admired, when thus con- 
 tending at once against Fortune and the superiority of num- 
 bers, than in the most distinguished of his victories, when the 
 fickle goddess fought upon his side. 
 
 The allies, notwithstanding their numbers, felt themselves 
 obliged to desist from the murderous attacks upon the villages 
 which cost them such immense loss; and drawing back their 
 troops as they brought forward their guns and howitzers, con- 
 tented themselves with maintaining a dreadful fire on the 
 French masses as they showed themselves, and throwing 
 shells into the villages. The French replied with great 
 spirit; but they had fewer guns in position, and besides their 
 ammunition was falling short. It is said by Baron Fain, that 
 
294 ' CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, jrxir. 
 
 the enormous number of 250,000 cannon-bails had been ex- 
 pended by the French, during the last four days, and, at the 
 close of the 18th there remained only 16,000 cartridges, 
 which could scarce support a hot fire for two hours. Still, 
 however, Napoleon completely maintained the day on the 
 south of Leipsic, where he was present in person. 
 
 On the north side of Leipsic, the superiority of numbers, 
 still greater than that which existed on the south, placed Ney 
 in a precarious situation. He was pressed at once by the ar 
 my of Blucher, and by that of the Crown Prince, which was 
 now come up in force. The latter general forced his way 
 across the Partha, with three columns, and at three different 
 points; and ISey saw himself obliged to retreat, in order to 
 concentrate his forces nearer Leipsic, and communicate by 
 his right with the army of Napoleon. 
 
 The Russians had orders to advance to force this new posi- 
 tion, and particularly to drive back the advanced guard of 
 Regnier, stationed on an eminence called Heiterblick, be- 
 twixt the villages of Taucha and Paunsdorf. On a sudden, 
 the troops who occupied the French line on that point, came 
 forward to meet the allies, with their swords sheathed, and 
 colors of truce displayed. This was a Saxon brigade, who in 
 the midst of the action, samefully embraced the time and 
 opportunity to desert Napoleon. The Russians, afraid of 
 stratagem, sent the Saxon troops, about 10,000 in number, to 
 the rear of the position. But their artillery were immediate- 
 ly brought into action; and having expended during that 
 morning one half of their ammunition on the allies, they now 
 bestowed the other half upon the French army. By this un- 
 expected disaster, Ney was obliged to contract his line of de- 
 fence once more. Even the valor and exertions of that dis- 
 tinguished general could not defend Schoenfeld. That fair 
 village forms almost one of the northern suburbs of Leipsic. 
 It was in vain that Buonaparte despatched his reserves of 
 cavalry to check the advance of the Crown Prince. He de- 
 feated all opposition that presented itself, and pressed ISey in 
 to a position close under the walls of Leipsic. The battle 
 once more ceased on all points; and after the solemn signal 
 of three cannon-shot had been heard, the field was left to the 
 slain and the wounded. 
 
 The loss on either side had been great. Napoleon's army 
 consisted chiefly of very young men — many were merely 
 boys — the produce of his forestalled conscriptions; yet they 
 fought as bravely as the guard. The behaviour of the Ger 
 
Chap, xxii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 295 
 
 mans, on the other hand, at length considering their indepen- 
 dence as hanging on the fortune of a single field, had been 
 answerable to the deep enthusiasm of that thoughtful people. 
 The burghers of Leipsic surveyed from their towers and 
 steeples one of the longest, sternest and bloodiest of battles; 
 and the situation of the king of Saxony, who remained all 
 the while in the heart of his ancient city, may be imagined. 
 
 Napoleon gave orders at midnight for the commencement 
 of the inevitable retreat; and while the darkness lasted, the 
 troops continued to file through the town, and across the 
 bridges, over the Pleisse, beyond its walls. One of these 
 bridges was a temporary fabric, and it broke down ere daylight 
 came to show to the enemy the movement of the French. — 
 The confusion necessarily accompanying the march of a 
 whole army, through narrow streets and upon a single bridge, 
 was fearful. The allies stormed at the gates on either side, 
 and but for the heroism of Macdonald and Poniatowski, to 
 whom Napoleon intrusted the defence of the suburbs, it is 
 doubted whether he himself could have escaped in safety. — 
 At nine in the morning of the 19th, he bade farewell forever 
 to the king of Saxony, who remained to make what terms he 
 could with the allied sovereigns. The battle was ere then 
 raging all round the walls. 
 
 At eleven o'clock the allies had gathered close to the 
 bridge from either wing; and the walls over against it had 
 been intrusted to Saxons, who now, like their brethren of the 
 day before, turned their fire on the French. The officer to 
 whom Napoleon had committed the task of blowing up the 
 bridges, when the advance of the enemy should render this 
 necessary, conceived that the time was come, and set fire to 
 his train. The crowd of men, urging each other on the po'jit 
 of safety, could not at once be stopped. Soldiers and horses, 
 cannon and wains, rolled headlong into the deep, though nar- 
 row river; which renewed, though on a smaller scale, the hor- 
 rors of the Beresina. Marshal Macdonald swam the stream 
 in safety: the gallant Poniatowski, the hope and pride of Po- 
 land, had been twice wounded ere he plunged his horse into 
 the current, and he sunk to rise no more. 25,000 French- 
 men, the means of escape entirely cut off, laid down their 
 arms within the city. Four sovereigns, entering each at the 
 head of his own victorious army, met at noon in the great 
 market-place of Leipsic: and all the exultation -of that sol- 
 emn hour would have been partaken by the inhabitants, but 
 for the fate of their own sovereign, personally esteemed and 
 
296 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. £Chap. xxii 
 
 beloved, who now vainly entreated to be admitted to the pres- 
 ence of the conquerors, and was sent forthwith sjs a prisoner 
 of war to Berlin. 
 
 Napoleon, in killed, wounded and prisoners, lost at Leipsic 
 at least 50,000 men. The retreat of the French through 
 Saxony was accompanied with every disaster which a hostile 
 peasantry, narrowness of supplies, and the persevering pur- 
 suits of the Cossacks and other light troops could (inflict on a 
 disordered and disheartened mass of men. The soldiers 
 moved on, while under the eye of Napoleon, in gloomy si- 
 lence; wherever he was not present, they set every rule of 
 discipline at naught, and were guilty of the most frightful ex- 
 cesses. The Emperor conducted himself as became a great 
 mind amid great misfortunes. He appeared at all times calm 
 and self possessed; receiving, every day that he advanced, 
 new tidings of evil. 
 
 He halted two days at Erfurt, where extensive magazines 
 had been established, employing all his energies in the restora- 
 tion of discipline; and would have remained longer, had he 
 not learned that the victors of Leipsic were making progress 
 on either flank of his march, while the Bavarians (so srecent- 
 ly his allies) reinforced by some Austrian divisions, were mov- 
 ing rapidly to take post between him and the Rhine. He re- 
 sumed his march, therefore, on the 25th. It was here that 
 Murat quitted the army. Notwithstanding the unpleasant 
 circumstances under which he had retired to Naples in Janu- 
 ary, Joachim had reappeared when the Emperor fixed his 
 head-quarters at Dresden in the summer, and served with his 
 usual gallantry throughout the rest of the campaign. The 
 state of Italy now demanded his presence; and the two 
 brothers-in-law, after all their differences, embraced each oth- 
 er warmly and repeatedly at parting — as if under a mutual 
 presentiment that they were parting to meet no more. 
 
 The Austro-Bavarians had taken up a position amid th»d 
 woods near Hanau ere the Emperor approached the May.t>e 
 He came up with them on the morning of the 30th, and ki$ 
 troops charged on the instant with the fury of desperation. — 
 Buonaparte cut his way through ere nightfall, and Marmont, 
 with the rear had equal success on the 31st. In these actions 
 there fell 6000 of the French; but the enemy had 10,000 
 killed or wounded, and lost 4000 prisoners. 
 
 The pursuit on the road which Napoleon adopted had been 
 intrusted to the Austrians, who urged it with far less vigor 
 than the Prussians under the fiery guidance of Blucher 
 
Chap, xxiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 297 
 
 would probably have exerted. No considerable annoyance, 
 therefore, succeeded to the battle of Hanau. The relics of 
 the French host at length passed the Rhine; and the Emper- 
 or, having quitted them at Mentz, arrived in Paris on the 9th 
 of November. 
 
 The armies of Austria and Prussia at length halted on the 
 Rhine. To the Germans of every age this great river has 
 been the object of an affection and reverence scarcely in- 
 ferior to that with which an Egyptian contemplates the Nile, 
 or the Indian his Ganges. When these brave bands, having 
 achieved the rescue of their native soil, came in sight of this 
 its ancient landmark, the burthen of a hundred songs, they 
 knelt and shouted, the Rhine! the Rhine! as with the heart 
 and voice of one man. They that were behind, rushed on, 
 hearing the cry, in expectation of another battle. 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 Manifesto of the Allied Sovereigns. Liberation of the Pope and Ferdi- 
 nand VII. Military preparations. Allies invade France with 300,000 
 men. Napoleon heads his army. Battles of Brienne and La Rothiere. 
 Defeats Blueher on the Marne. Battles of Nangis and Montereau. — 
 Austrians retreat. Napoleon again marches against Blueher. Battles 
 of Craonne and Laon. Napoleon at Rheims. 
 
 Of the events which crowded upon each other in the space 
 of a few weeks after the overthrow of Leipsic, any one 
 would, in times less extraordinary, have been sufficient to 
 form an epoch in history. The fabric of Napoleon's Ger- 
 man empire, crumbled into nothing. Hanover returned to 
 the dominion of its sovereign. Brunswick, Hesse, and other 
 states which had formed Jerome's kingdom of Westphalia, fol- 
 lowed the same example. The confederation of the Rhine 
 was dissolved, and the princes of that league obliged to bring 
 a year's revenue and a double conscription to the banner of 
 the allies. A revolution broke out in Holland; the coasts of 
 Trieste and Dalmatia were obliged to be abandoned to the 
 Austrians; numerous garrisons in Germany surrendered, and 
 finally Denmark declared against France, recruiting Berna- 
 
 13* 
 
298 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxiii. 
 
 dotte's army with 10,000 Danish troops. There no longer 
 remained a single French soldier in Spain, except a detached 
 and now useless force under Suchet in Catalonia, and Wel- 
 lington's army had crossed the Pyrenees. To crown the 
 whole, disaffection was spreading rapidly in France itself. 
 
 The allied sovereigns assembled at Frankfort, where they 
 issued a manifesto, the language of which was calculated to 
 make a strong impression in France, as well as elsewhere. — 
 The sovereigns announced their belief that it was for the in 
 terest of Europe that France should continue to be a power 
 ful state, and their willingness to concede to her, even now, 
 greater extent of territory than the Bourbon kings had ever 
 claimed — the boundaries, namely, of the Rhine, the Alps 
 and the Pyrenees. Their sole object in invading France was 
 to put an end to the authority which Napoleon had attained 
 over other nations. They disclaimed any wish to interfere 
 with the internal government — it was the right of the nation 
 to arrange that as they pleased; the hostility of Europe was 
 against, not France, but Napoleon — and even as to Napoleon, 
 against, not his person, but his system. The same terms were 
 tendered to Napoleon himself, and his answer was such that 
 diplomatists from all the belligerent powers forthwith assem- 
 bled at Manheim. Napoleon authorized Caulaincourt to 
 commence the negotiation in his behalf, and he probably did 
 so for the purpose of gaining time. It did not suit his high- 
 soaring ambition to be content with such a degree of power 
 as was to be obtained by negotiation. His favorite phrase 
 was that he " could not occupy a throne, the glory of which 
 was tarnished." Yet let us do justice to the memory of a 
 man so distinguished. If a merited confidence in the zeal 
 and bravery of his troops, or in his own transcendent abili- 
 ties as a general, could justify him in committing a great po- 
 litical error, in neglecting the opportunity of securing peace 
 on honorable terms, the events of the strangely varied cam- 
 paign of 1814, show sufficiently the ample ground there was 
 for his entertaining such an assurance. 
 
 His military preparations were now urged with unremiting 
 energy. New conscriptions were called for, and granted; 
 every arsenal resounded with the fabrication of arms; and 
 all the taxes were at once doubled by an imperial decree. — 
 But the enthusiasm of the revolutionary period was long 
 since gone by. In vain did Napoleon send special agents 
 through the departments, calling on Frenchmen of all classes 
 to rise in arms for the protection of the soil. Coldness, 
 
Chap, xxiii] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 299 
 
 languor and distrust met them almost every where. The 
 numerical results even of the conscription-levy were far 
 under what they should have been; multitudes daily deserted, 
 and not a few took part with those royalist bands who were 
 mustering and training zealously in almost every district that 
 was either strong by nature, or remote from the great military 
 establishments of Buonaparte. The legislative senate, now 
 testified some sympathy with the feelings of the people, whom 
 in theory at least, they were supposed to represent. This 
 was a novelty for which Napoleon had not been prepared, and 
 he received it in a manner little likely to conciliate the at- 
 tachment of wavering men. They ventured to hint that 
 ancient France would remain to him, even if he accepted the 
 proposals of the allies, and that Louis XIV, when he desired 
 to rouse the French people in his behalf in a moment of 
 somewhat similar disaster, had not disdained to detail openly 
 the sincere efforts which he had made to obtain an honorable 
 peace. "Shame on you!" cried the Emperor. "Welling- 
 ton has entered the south, the Russians menace the northern 
 frontier, the Prussians, Austrians and Bavarians the eastern. 
 Shame! Wellington is in France, and we have not risen en 
 masse to drive him back! All my allies have deserted — the 
 Bavarian has betrayed me. No peace till we have burned 
 Munich! I demand a levy of 300,000 men — with this and 
 what I already have, I shall see a million in arms. I will 
 form a camp of 100,000 at Bourdeaux; another at Mentz; 
 and a third at Lyons. But I must have grown men — these 
 boys serve only to encumber the hospitals and the road sides. 
 Abandon Holland! sooner yield it back to the sea! Senators, 
 an impulse must be given — all must march — you are fathers 
 of families, the heads of the nation — you must set the example. 
 Peace! I hear of nothing but peace, when all around should 
 echo to the cry of war." The senate, nevertheless drew up 
 and presented a report which renewed his wrath. He re- 
 proached them openly with desiring to purchase inglorious 
 ease at the expense of his honor. " I am the state," said he, 
 repeating a favorite expression: "What is the throne? — a 
 bit of wood gilded, and covered with velvet — I am the state — 
 I alone am here the representative of the people. Even if I 
 had done wrong, you should not have reproached me in pub- 
 lic — people wash their dirty linen at home. France has more 
 need of me, than I of France." Having uttered these words, 
 Napoleon repaired to his council of state and there denounc- 
 ed the legislative senate, as composed of one part of traitors 
 
300 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxiii. 
 
 and eleven of dupes. "In place of assisting, " said he, 
 " they impede me. Our attitude alone could have repelled 
 the enemy — they invite him. We should have presented a 
 front of brass — they lay open wounds to his view. I will 
 not suffer their report to be printed. They have not done their 
 duty, but I will do mine — I dissolve the legislative senate." 
 
 The greatest confusion already began to pervade almost 
 every department of the public service. The orders of the 
 government were more peremptory than ever, and they were 
 hourly more neglected. Whole bands of conscripts, guilty 
 of endeavoring to escape, were tried by military commissions 
 and decimated. Even close to the barriers of Paris such 
 executions were constantly going on; and all in vain. The 
 general feeling was that of indifference. During this uneasy 
 pause, Napoleon at last dismissed his venerable prisoner of 
 Fontainebleau. It is not unlikely that, in the altered state of 
 Italy, he thought the arrival of the Pope might tend to 
 produce some dissention among his enemies in that quarter; 
 and, in effect, when Pius reached Rome, he found the capital 
 of the Catholic world in the hands of Murat, who had ere 
 then concluded his treaty with Francis, and was advancing 
 into the north of Italy, in the view of co-operating in the 
 campaign against Beauharnois, with the Austrians on the one 
 side, and on the other with an English force recently landed 
 at Leghorn. Napoleon next unlocked the gates of Valencay on 
 Ferdinand of Spain, who, after five years of captivity, re- 
 turned to Madrid amidst the all but universal acclamations of 
 a nation who had bled at every pore in his cause, and whom 
 his government was destined ere long to satisfy that they had 
 bled in vain. Napoleon, no doubt, understood well what sort 
 of a present he was conferring on the Spaniards, when he 
 restored Ferdinand, and probably calculated that his arrival 
 would fill the country with civil tumults, sufficient to paralyze 
 its arm for foreign war. 
 
 Schwartzenbeg with the grand army, at length crossed the 
 Rhine, between Basle and Schaff-hausen, on the 20th of 
 December, and disregarding the claim of the Swiss to 
 preserve neutrality, advanced through that territory unop- 
 posed, and began to show themselves in Franche-Comte, 
 in Burgundy and even to the gates of Dijon. On the 1st o*" 
 January, 1814, the Silesian army, under Blucher, crossed 
 the river at various points between Rastadtand Coblentz; and 
 shortly after, the army of the north, commanded by Witzen- 
 gerode and Bulow '%>v Bamadotte declined having any part 
 
Chap, xxiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOX iOK. 301 
 
 in the actual invasion of France,) began tj jenetrate the 
 frontier of the Netherlands. The wea thier inhabitants of 
 the invaded provinces escaped to Paris bearkg with them 
 these tidings. It was now known to y one that the 
 
 Pyrenees had been crossed by Wellingt ,~. ..id the Rhine by 
 three mighty hosts, amounting together t ) SO^OOO men, and 
 including representatives of every tongue and tribe from the 
 Germans of Westphalia to the wildest barbarians of Tartary. 
 Persons of condition despatched their plate and valuables to 
 places at a distance from the capital; many whole families 
 removed daily; and the citizens of Paris were openly en- 
 gaged in laying up stores of flour and salted provisions, in 
 contemplation of a siege. 
 
 Nearer and nearer every day the torrent of invasion rolled 
 on— sweeping before it, from post to post, the various corps 
 which had been left to watch the Rhine. Marmont, Mortier, 
 Victor and Ney, commanding in all about 50,000 men, retired 
 of necessity before the enemy. It had been considered as 
 certain that much time must be occupied with the besieging 
 of the great fortresses on the Rhenish frontier. Rut it was 
 apparent that the allies had resolved to carry the war into 
 the interior, without waiting for the reduction of these formi- 
 dable outworks. Their numbers were such that they could 
 afford to mask them, and still pass on with hosts overwhelm- 
 ingly superior to all those of Napoleon's lieutenants. These 
 withdrew, and with them, and behind them, came crowds of 
 the rustic population possessing any means of transport. — 
 Carts and waggons, crammed with terrified women and chil- 
 dren, thronged every avenue to the capital. 
 
 On the 22d of January, the first official news of the inva- 
 sion appeared; the Moniteur announced that Schwartzen- 
 berg had entered Switzerland on the 20th of December, and 
 that Blucher also had crossed the Rhine on the first day of 
 the year. The next morning, being Sunday, the officers of 
 the national guard were summoned to the Tuilleries. They 
 lined the saloon of the marshals, to the number of 900, alto- 
 gether ignorant of the purpose for which they had been con- 
 voked. The Emperor took his station in the centre of the 
 hall; and immediately afterward the Empress, with the King 
 of Rome (carried in the arms of Countess Montesquiou,) 
 appeared at his side. " Gentlemen," said Napoleon, "France 
 is invaded; I go to put myself at the head of my troops, 
 and, with God's help and their valor, I hope soon to drive the 
 enemy beyond the frontier." Here be took Mara Louisa in 
 
302 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxni 
 
 one hand and her son in the other, and continued—" But if 
 they should approach the capital, I confide to the national 
 guard the Empress and the King of Rome"— then correcting 
 himself, he said in a tone of strong emotion— " my wife and 
 my child." Several officers stepped from their places and 
 approached him; and tears were visible on the cheeks of all. 
 Napoleon spent part of the 24th of January in reviewing 
 troops in the court-yard of the Tuilleries, in the midst of a 
 fall of snow, which must have called up ominous recollections 
 and at three in the morning of the 25th once more left his 
 capital. He had again appointed Maria Louisa regent, 
 placed his brother Joseph at the head of her council, and 
 gave orders for raising military defences around Paris, and 
 for converting many public buildings into hospitals. He set 
 off in visible dejection; but recovered all his energy on 
 reaching once more the congenial atmosphere of arms. 
 
 He "arrived at Chalons ere midnight; and found that 
 Schwartzenberg and Blucher, having severally passed through 
 Franch-Comte and Lorraine, were now occupying— the form- 
 er with 97,000 men, the latter with 40,000 — an almost com- 
 plete line between the Marne and the Seine. Blucher was 
 in his own neighborhood, and he immediately resolved to 
 attack the right of the Silesian army, which was pushing 
 down the valley of the Marne, while its centre kept the 
 parallel course of the Aube, ere the Prussian marshal could 
 concentrate all his own strength, far less be adequately sup- 
 ported from the side of Schwartzenberg, who was advancing 
 down the Seine towards Bar. A sharp skirmish took place 
 accordingly on the 27th, at St. Dizier; and Blucher, warned 
 of Napoleon's arrival, lost no time in calling in his detach- 
 ments, and taking a post of defence at Brienne-le-Chateau 
 on the Aube— the same town where Buonaparte had received 
 his military education. Could Napoleon force him from the 
 Aube, it was evident that the French would be enabled to 
 interpose themselves effectually between the two armies of 
 the allies; and it was most necessary to divide the enemy's 
 strength, for after all his exertions, Napoleon had been able 
 to add only 20,0u0 good troops to the 50,000 who had been 
 retiring before the allied columns from the course of the 
 Rhine. 
 
 Napoleon, therefore, marched through a thick forest upon 
 the scene of his youthful studies, and appeared there on the 
 29th; — having moved so rapidly that Blucher was at dinner 
 in the chateau, when the French thundered at its gates, and 
 
Chap, xxni.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON 303 
 
 with difficulty escaped to the rear through a postern — actual- 
 ly leading his horse down a stair. The Russians, however, 
 under Alsusieff, maintained their place in the town courage- 
 ously; and, some Cossacks throwing themselves upon the 
 rear of the French, the Emperor was himself involved in the 
 
 melee, drew his sword and fought like a private dragoon. 
 
 General Gourgaud shot a Cossack when in the act of" thrust- 
 ing a spear at Napoleon's back. The town of Brienne was 
 burnt to the ground; Alsusieff was made prisoner; Lefebre 
 Desnouettes died; and there was considerable slaughter on 
 
 both sides; but the affair had no result of importance. 
 
 Blucher retired but a little further up the Aube, and posted 
 himself at La Rothiere, where Schwartzenberg, warned by 
 the cannonade, hastened to co-operate with him. 
 
 Napoleon said, at St. Helena, that during the charge of 
 the Cossacks at Brienne, he recognized a particular tree, 
 under which, when a boy, he used to sit and read the Jerusa- 
 lem Delivered of Tasso. The field had been in those days, 
 part of the exercise ground of the students, and the chateau, 
 whence Blucher escaped so narrowly, their lodging. How 
 strange must have been the feelings of the man who, having 
 but yesterday planted his eagles on the Kremlin, now opened 
 his fifteenth campaign amid the scenes of his own earliest 
 recollections — of the days in which he had never dreamed of 
 empire. On the 1st of February, Blucher in his turn, as- 
 sumed the offensive, assaulting the French position in his 
 front at once on three several points, the battle lasted all day, 
 and ended in the defeat of the French. While the division 
 of Marmont retired down the Aube before Blucher, Na- 
 poleon himself struck across the country to Troyes, which 
 there was every reason to fear must be immediately occupied 
 by Schwartzenberg; and was there joined by a considerable 
 body of his own guard, in high order and spirits, whose ap- 
 pearance restored, in a great measure, the confidence of the 
 troops beaten at La Rothiere. 
 
 While at Troyes Napoleon learned that Blucher had sepa- 
 rated from Schwartzenberg, and transferred his whole army 
 to the Marne, and was now advancing towards Paris. This 
 was a blunder and Napoleon's eagle eye detected it. Leav- 
 ing Victor and Oudinot with a small force to keep the Aus- 
 trians in check, he now directed his own march against 
 Blucher. 
 
 He had to traverse a country intersected with thickets, 
 marshes, drains, ditches and impediments of every kind; the 
 
304 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxiii. 
 
 weather was execrable, and but for the extraordinary exer- 
 tions of the Mayor of Barbonne, who collected five hundred 
 horses to extricate the guns, they must have been abandoned 
 on the road. But by dint of perseverance, Buonaparte ac- 
 complished this forced march, on the 10th of February, and 
 the flank of the Silesian army was in consequence placed at 
 his mercy. They were moving on without the least suspicion 
 of such an attack. Sacken led the advance, the Russian 
 general Alsusieff followed, and Blucher himself brought up 
 the rear with the main body. All intent upon the advance to 
 Paris, they were marching with careless haste, and had suf- 
 fered such large intervals to take place betwixt their divisions 
 as to expose thern to be attacked in detail. 
 
 Buonaparte fell upon the central division of Alsusieff, at 
 Champeaubert, surrounded, defeated and totally dispersed 
 them, taking their artillery and 2000 prisoners, while the re- 
 mainder of the division fled into the woods, and attempted to 
 escape individually. The whole force of the Emperor was 
 now interposed between the advanced guard under Sacken, 
 and the main body under Blucher. It was first directed to- 
 wards the former, whom Napoleon encountered sooner than 
 he expected, for Sacken on hearing of the action of Cham- 
 peaubert, instantly countermarched his division to assist 
 Alsusieff, or at least to rejoin Blucher; but he was over- 
 whelmed by the superior force of the French, and having 
 lost one fourth of his division, about 5000 men, was forced 
 to leave the high road, upon which Blucher was advancing, 
 and retreat by that on Chateau Thierry. At this village 
 Sacken was joined by General Yorck and Prince William of 
 Prussia; but, still unable to make a stand, they could only 
 secure a retreat by destroying the bridge over the Marne. — 
 War began now to show itself in its most hideous forms. — 
 The stragglers and fugitives who could not cross the bridge 
 before its destruction, were murdered by its peasantry, while 
 the allied soldiers, in revenge, plundered the village of Cha- 
 teau Thierry, and practised every excess of violence. The 
 defeat of Sacken took place on the 12th of February. The 
 Prussian marshal, advancing rapidly, in consequence of the 
 firing of these battles, found himself all at once in presence 
 of an army flushed with victory, vastly superior in numbers, 
 and well provided with cavalry, of which he had almost none. 
 He retired in alternate squares, sustaining all day the charges 
 of the French, with much loss of life; and at length cut his 
 way, at Etoges, through a column of heavy horse, sent round 
 
Chap, xxiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAP0L1 3W/ 305 
 
 to intercept him, and drawn up on the causewL . Blucher 
 himself was, in the course of this day, obliged tc fight hind 
 to hand like a private soldier. His retreat was ic isterly, and 
 he finally crossed the Marne at Chalons. 
 
 Such was Napoleon's celebrated £ expediinn of thti 
 Marne." In five days his arms had b< en three times suc- 
 cessful. He had shattered and disperse! the Silt sian army, 
 and above all, recovered the spirits of Lis own soldiery. A 
 column of 7000 Prussian prisoners, with a considf rable niM) 
 ber of guns and standards, at length saisficd tb .■•? Parisians 
 that Victory had not entirely foresworn hsr old jfa* orite. 
 
 Scarcely had the Parisians seen the pisoners from Monl- 
 mirail marched along their Boulevards, ere they heard thit 
 the Cossacks were in possession of Fontaine! leau. Na- 
 poleon had left small divisions of his army to guard tin; 
 bridges over the Seine at Nogent and Bray. f J he enemy, 
 however, soon discovered that the En peror an;! his chief 
 force were no longer in that quarter; and — wh le he wad 
 beating AlsusiefF, Sacken and Bluchei — had made good the 
 passage of the Seine, at three different points, at Nogent, a 
 Bray, and still farther down, at Moniereau. Schvrartzenb?^ 
 had already his head-quarters at Nangis, and wt s obviously 
 resolved to reach Paris, if possible, wl ile Napok-on was on 
 the Marne. The light troops of the gi and allied army v/ere 
 scattering confusion on both sides of the Seine — and one 
 party of them was so near the capital as Fontaineblea;u 
 
 Buonaparte instantly committed to Marmont aad Mortier 
 the care of watching the Chalons roadi and the remains of 
 Blucher's army, and marched with his main body on Meaux 
 where he received (15th February) tha welcome reinforce- 
 ments of 20,000 veterans from Spain, conaman ded \ y Grouchy 
 On the 16th, Victor and Oudinot were engaged wth the van 
 of Schwartzenberg, on the pi&ins o! Guignes, when the 
 Emperor arrived to their assistance. The enemy immedi- 
 ately drew back, and concentrated I $ strength at Nangis. — 
 Napoleon attacked that position on th< morning of the 17th, 
 and with such effect, that the allies ret eated after considera- 
 ble loss, on the bridges in their rear. 
 
 They halted, however, at Montere in, and fictor, who 
 commanded the pursuers on that rout j, failed ri dislodging 
 them. Napoleon resented this as a he nous errc r, and com- 
 ing up on the morning of the 18th, reb iked him in terms of 
 violent wrath, and formally dismissed h en from t e service. — 
 The marshal, tears streaming down li s face eclared that 
 
306 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxm. 
 
 though he had ceased to be an officer, he must still be a sol- 
 dier, and would serve once more in the ranks, from which he 
 had originally risen. The old man's son-in-law, General 
 Chateau, had been slain the same morning. Napoleon ex- 
 tended his hand to him, and said he could not give him back 
 the command of his corps d'armee, which had been already 
 assigned to another, but that he was welcome to place him- 
 self at the head of a brigade of the guard. It was upon 
 such occasions, when he subdued his excited feelings to a state 
 of kindness and generosity, that Buonaparte's personal conduct 
 seems to have been most amiable. The attack then com- 
 menced with fury, and the bridge and town of Montereau 
 were carried. The defence was, however, long and stern, 
 and Napoleon was seen pointing cannon with his own hand, 
 under the heaviest of the fire. The artillerymen, delighted 
 with witnessing this resumption of his ancient trade, were, nev- 
 ertheless, alarmed at the exposure of his person, and entreated 
 him to withdraw. He persisted in his work, answering gayly, 
 " My children! the bullet that shall kill me is not yet cast." 
 Pursuing his advantage, Napoleon saw the grand army con- 
 tinue their retreat in the direction of Troyes, and on the 
 morning of the 22d arrived before Mery. The astonish- 
 ment of the Emperor was great, when he found this town 
 occupied, not by a feeble rear-guard of Schwartzenberg, but 
 by a powerful division of Russians, commanded by Sacken, 
 and therefore, belonging to the army of Blucher. These 
 unexpected enemies were charged in the streets, and at 
 length retired out of the town (which was burnt to the 
 ground in the struggle,) and thence beyond the Aube — 
 which, in that quarter, runs nearly parallel with, and at no 
 great distance from, the Seine. The Emperor then halted, 
 and spent the night in a wheelwright's cottage at Chatres. 
 Napoleon now thought of the means of at once holding 
 Schwartzenberg in check on the Seine, and returning once 
 more to confront Blucher on the Marne. He desired Oudi- 
 not and Macdonald, with their divisions, to manoeuvre in the 
 direction of Schwartzenberg; and these generals command- 
 ed their troops to shout " Vive l'Empereur," whenever they 
 were in hearing of the enemy, which for a time kept up the 
 notion that Napoleon himself was still advancing on the road 
 to Bar. Meanwhile, he was once more marching rapidly 
 across the country to Sezanne; at which point he received 
 intelligence that Mortier and Marmont had been driven from 
 Ferte-Sous-Jouarre by Blucher, and were in full retreat to 
 
Chap, xxiii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 307 
 
 Meaux. Meaux he considered as almost a suburb of Paris, 
 and quickened his speed accordingly. Hurrying on, at Ferte- 
 Goucher, he was at once met and overtaken by evil tidings. 
 Schwartzenberg, having discovered the Emperor's absence, 
 had immediately resumed the offensive, defeated O.udinot and 
 Macdonald at Bar, and driven them before him as far as 
 Troyes; and Augereau, who commanded in the neighbor* 
 hood of Lyons, announced the arrival of a new and great 
 army of the allies in that quarter. Napoleon resumed, how- 
 ever, his march, and having been detained sometime at Ferte, 
 in consequence of the destruction of the bridge, took the 
 direction of Chateau-Thierry and Soissons, while Mortier and 
 Marmont received his orders to resume the offensive in front 
 of Meaux. He hoped, in this manner, to throw himself on 
 the flank of Blucher's march, as he had done before at 
 Champaubert. But the Prussian received intelligence this 
 time of his approach; and, drawing his troops together, re- 
 tired to Soissons in perfect order. 
 
 Napoleon proceeded with alacrity in the direction of Sois- 
 sons, not doubting that the French garrisons intrusted with 
 the care of that town, and its bridge over the Marne, were 
 still in possession of it, and eager, therefore, to force Blucher 
 into action with this formidable obstacle in the rear. But 
 Soissons had been taken by a Russian corps, retaken by a 
 French one, and fallen once more into the hands of the ene- 
 my, ere the Emperor came in sight of it. The Muscovite 
 black eagle, floating on the towers, gave him the first inti- 
 mation of this misfortune. He assaulted the place impetu- 
 ously; the Russians repelled the attack; and Napoleon, learn- 
 ing that Blucher had filed his main body through the town, 
 .and posted himself behind the Marne, marched up the left 
 bank of that river, and crossed it also at Bery. 
 
 A few leagues in front of this place, on the heights of 
 Craonne, two Russian corps, those of Sacken and Witzenge- 
 rode, were already in position; and the Emperor lost no 
 time in charging them there, in the hope of destroying them 
 ere they could unite with Blucher. The battle of Craonne 
 began at eleven A. M. on the 7th of March, and lasted till 
 four in the afternoon. The Russians had down to this hour 
 withstood the utmost exertions of Ney on their right, of Vic- 
 tor on their left, and of Napoleon himself on their centre. — 
 The loss in slain and wounded had been about equal on both 
 sides: no cannon and hardly a prisoner had been taken. The 
 Emperor enraged with this obstinate resistance, was prepar- 
 
308 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxiii 
 
 ing for a final effort, when suddenly the Russians began to 
 retreat. He followed them; but they withdrew with delibera- 
 tion. They had been ordered to fall back on the plateau of 
 Laon, in order to form there on the same line with Blucher, 
 who was once more in presence, and eager to concentrate all 
 his force for a decisive conflict. 
 
 It took place on the 9th. Napoleon found his enemy 
 strongly posted along an elevated ridge, covered with wood, 
 and further protected in front by a succession of terrace- 
 walls, the enclosures of vineyards. There was a heavy mist 
 on the lower ground, and the French were advancing up the 
 hill ere their movement was discovered. They were met by 
 a storm of cannonade which utterly broke their centre. On 
 either flank of the enemy's position they then charged in suc- 
 cession, and with like results. On all points they were re- 
 pelled, except only at the village of Athies, where Marmont 
 had obtained some advantage. Night interrupted the con- 
 test, and the armies bivouacked in full view of each other. 
 The allies, in consequence of their well-covered position, 
 had suffered comparatively little; of the French some thou- 
 sands had died — and all in vain. Napoleon, was, however, 
 resolved to renew the attack, and mounted his horse accord- 
 ingly at four on the morning of the 10th. At that moment 
 news came that Marmont's corps had just been assaulted at 
 Athies, and so thoroughly discomfitted that they were now 
 flying in confusion towards Corbery. Notwithstanding this 
 ominous opening, the battle in front of Laon was continued 
 all the day. But the tide of fortune had turned, and could 
 not be resisted. On the 11th, Napoleon commenced his re- 
 treat, having lost 30 cannon and 10,000 men. 
 
 Soissons had been evacuated by the allies, when concen- 
 trating themselves for the battle of Laon. Napoleon threw' 
 himself, therefore, into that town, and was making his best 
 efforts to strengthen it, in expectation of the Prussian's ad- 
 vance, when once more a messenger of evil tidings reached 
 him. A detached Russian corps, commanded by St. Piest, a 
 French emigrant, had seized Rheims by a coup-de-main. — 
 The possession of this city (as a glance at any good map 
 will show) could hardly fail to re-establish Blucher's communi- 
 cations with Schwartzenberg — and Napoleon instantly march- 
 ed thither in person, leaving Marmont to hold out as well as 
 he could at Soissons, in case that should be the direction of 
 Blucher's march. Buonaparte, moving with his usual rapidi- 
 ty, came unexpected on Rheims, and took the place by as- 
 
Chap, xxiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 309 
 
 sault, at midnight. St. Priest had fallen; and the bulletin 
 announced that he met his fate by a ball from the same can- 
 non which killed Moreau. From Rheims, where Napoleon 
 remained for three days to refresh his followers, he despV li- 
 ed full powers to Caulaincourt to conclude any treaty, wnich 
 should secure the immediate evacuation of the old French 
 territory, and a mutual restoration of prisoners. The allies, 
 however, had determined to negotiate no more ere the de- 
 SDatch of Rheims reached him. 
 
 CHAP. XXIT. 
 
 Energies of Napoleon. Operations of the allies. Sufferings of the 
 Peasantry. Napoleon marches to St. Dizier. The allies approach 
 Paris. Proclamation of Joseph. The Empress retires to Blois. He- 
 roic but unavailing defence of the Capital. Marmont capitulates. — 
 The allies enter Paris. Napoleon at Fontainbleau. His abdication. 
 His parting interview with the Imperial Guard. Death of Josephine. 
 Napoleon commences his journey to Elba. 
 
 Throughout this crisis of his history it is impossible to 
 survey the rapid energy of Napoleon — his alert transition 
 from enemy to enemy, his fearless assaults on vastly superior 
 numbers, his unwearied resolution and exhaustless invention 
 - — without the highest admiration. He had all through this, 
 the most extraordinary of his campaigns, continued to con- 
 duct, from his perpetually changing head-quarters, the civil 
 business of his empire. He occupied himself largely with 
 such matters during his stay at Rheims; but it was there that 
 the last despatches from the home-department at Paris were 
 destined to reach him; and, ere he could return his answer, 
 there came couriers upon couriers with tidings which would 
 have unmanned any other mind, and which filled his with 
 perplexity. On the one side, Blucher had profited by his 
 departure, crushed down the feeble opposition of the corps 
 left at Soissons, and repassed the Marne. On the other 
 hand, Schwartzenberg had detected, almost as soon as it took 
 place, his march on Sezanne, and instantly resumed the of- 
 fensive. Oudinot and Girard had been forced to give way 
 
310 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxiv. 
 
 before the immeasurably superior numbers of the grand 
 army. They had been defeated with great slaughter at Bar 
 on the Aube; and the Austrian was once more at Troyes: — 
 The allies were therefore, to all appearance, in full march 
 upon Paris, both by the valley of the Marne, and by that of 
 the Seine, at the moment when Napoleon had thought to 
 paralyze all their movements by taking up a position between 
 them at Rheims. 
 
 He still counted largely on the magic of his name; and 
 even now he had hardly overreckoned. When Schwartzen- 
 berg understood that Napoleon was at Rheims, the old terror 
 returned, and the Austrian instantly proposed to fall back 
 from Troyes. Lord Castlereagh, who was at this time in the 
 camp of the allies, took upon himself the responsibility of 
 signifying that the grand army might retire if the sovereigns 
 pleased, but that if such a movement took place, the subsidies 
 of England must be considered at an end. This bold word 
 determined the debate. Schwartzenberg's columns instantly 
 resumed their march down the Seine. 
 
 Napoleon, meanwhile, had been struggling with himself: 
 whatever line of action he might adopt was at the best 
 hazardous in the extreme. Should he hasten after Blucher 
 on the Marne, what was to prevent Schwartzenberg from 
 reaching Paris ere the Silesian army, already victorious at 
 Laon, could be once more brought to action by an inferior 
 force? Should he throw himself on the march of Schwartz- 
 enberg, would not the fiery Prussian be at the Tuilleries long 
 before the Austrian could be checked on the Seine? There 
 remained a third course — namely, to push at once into the 
 country in the rear of the grand army; and to this there were 
 sundry inducements. By doing so, he might possibly — such 
 were still the Emperor's conceptions as to the influence of 
 his name — strike the advancing allies, both the Austrian and 
 the Prussian, with terror, and paralyze their movements. — 
 Were they likely to persist in their Hurrah on Paris (at this 
 period the Cossack vocabulary was in vogue,) when they 
 knew Napoleon to be posting himself between them and their 
 own resources, and at the same time relieving and rallying 
 around him all the garrisons of the great fortresses of the 
 Rhine? Would not such conduct be considered as entirely 
 out of the question by superstitious adherents to the ancient 
 technicalities of war? Would not Schwartzenberg at least 
 abandon the advance and turn to follow him, who still fancied 
 that no one could dream of conquering France without hav- 
 
hap. xxiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 31 1 
 
 l 
 ing ruined Napoleon? But — even supposing that the allied 
 powers should resist all these suggestions and proceed upon 
 the capital — would not that great city, with Marmont and 
 Mortier, and the national guard, be able to hold the erTiiy 
 at bay for some considerable space; and during that space, 
 couid the Emperor fail to release his garrisons on the Rhine, 
 and so place himself once more at the head of an army 
 capable, under his unrivalled guidance, of relieving France 
 and ruining her invaders, by a great battle under the walls of 
 Paris ? 
 
 It must be added, in reference to Napoleon's choice amor 
 these difficulties, that ere now the continuance of the warfa 
 had much exacerbated the feelings of the peasantry, who, f 
 the most part, regarded its commencement with indifferenc 
 The perpetual marches and counter-marches of the armie 
 the assaults and burning of towns and villages, the fierc~ 
 demeanour of the Prussians, and the native barbarism of the 
 Russians, had spread devastation and horror through some of 
 the fairest provinces of France. The desolation was such 
 that wolves and other beasts of prey appeared, in numbers, 
 which recalled the ages of the unbroken forest, amid the 
 vineyards and gardens of Champaigne. All who could com- 
 mand the means of flight had escaped; of those that remain- 
 ed there were few who had not, during three months, suffered 
 painful privations, seen their cottages occupied by savage 
 strangers, and their streams running red with the blood of 
 their countrymen. The consequence was that the peasantry 
 on the theatre of the war, and behind it, were ere now in a 
 state of high excitement. Might not the Emperor, by throw- 
 ing himself and his diminished, but still formidable, band of 
 veterans among them, give the finishing impulse, and realize 
 at length his fond hope of a national insurrection? While 
 Napoleon was thus tossed in anxiety by what means to avert, 
 if it were yet possible, from Paris the visitation of those 
 mighty armies, against whom, energies, such as he alone 
 possessed, had been exerted in vain — the capital showed 
 small symptoms of sympathizing with him. The streets 
 were daily traversed by new crowds of provincialists, driven 
 or terrified from their dwellings. Every hospital, and many 
 public buildings besides, were crammed with wounded sol- 
 diers; and the number of dead bodies continually floating 
 down the Seine, was so great that the meanest of the popu- 
 lace durst no longer make use of the water. As one con- 
 clusive token of the universal distrust, it may be mentioned 
 
312 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Chap. xxiv. 
 
 that, where&s in usual times the amount of taxes paid daily 
 into the exc u qu r dt Paris is about £3,000, the average, af- 
 ter the first of March, did not exceed £15. It was Savary's 
 business to despatch a full account of the state of the city 
 every night to ' "r^-quarters; — and he did not hesitate to in- 
 form the Etts* that the machinery of government was 
 clogged in every wheel, and that the necessity of purchasing 
 peace, by abandoning him, was the common burden of con- 
 versation. 
 
 Meantime, to swell the cup of his anxieties, there reached 
 him new intelligence of the most alarming character from the 
 south-western provinces, invaded by Lord Wellington. That 
 general had driven Soult before him through the Pays de 
 Gaves, (the tract of strong country broken by the torrents 
 descending from the Pyrenees;) defeated him in another great 
 battle at Orthes, and was now pursuing him in the direction 
 of Toulouse. Nor was even this the worst, Bordeaux had 
 risen openly in the cause of Louis. The white flag was 
 floating on every tower of the third city in France, and the 
 Duke D'Angouleme was administering all the offices of gov- 
 ernment in the midst of a population who had welcomed him 
 with enthusiasm. It was amid such circumstances that Na- 
 poleon at length decided on throwing himself upon the rear of 
 the allies. They were for some time quite uncertain of his 
 movements after he quitted Rheims, until an intercepted letter 
 to Maria Louisa informed them that he was at St. Dizier. 
 
 He continued for several days to manoeuvre on the coun- 
 try beyond St. Dizier. Having thus seized the roads by 
 which the grand army had advanced, he took prisoners many 
 persons of distinction on their way to its head-quarters — 
 and at one time the Emperor of Austria himself escaped 
 most narrowly a party of French hussars. Meanwhile, pet- 
 ty skirmishes were ever and anon occurring between Na- 
 poleon's r aar-guard and Austrians, whom he took for the van- 
 guard of Schwartzenberg. They were, however, detached 
 troops ; chiefly horse, left to hang on his march. The grand 
 army was proceeding rapidly down the Seine; while Blucher, 
 having beiten Marmont and Mortier, was already within sight 
 of Meaux. 
 
 It has been mentioned that Napoleon, ere he commenced 
 his campaign, directed some fortifications to be thrown up on 
 the side of Paris nearest to the invading armies. His broth- 
 er Joseph , however, was, as Spain had witnessed, neither an 
 active no: a skilfui soldier; and the civil government of this 
 
 
Chap, xxiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 313 
 
 tempestuous capital appears to have been more than enough 
 to employ what energies he possessed. The outworks exe- 
 cuted during the campaign were few and inconsiderable; and 
 to occupy them, there were but 8,000 fresh regulars, the dis- 
 comfited divisions of Marmont and Mortier, and the national 
 guard of the metropolis. Meanwhile, the royalists within 
 the city had been watching the progress of events with 
 eagerness and exultation. Talleyrand was ere now in close 
 communication with them, and employing all the resources 
 of his talents to prevail on them to couple their demand for 
 the heir of the Bourbons. Various deputations from the roy- 
 alists had found their way to the head-quarters, both of 
 Blucher and of Schwartzenberg, ere the middle of March, 
 and expressed sentiments of this nature. As yet, however, 
 none of the allies had ventured to encourage directly the 
 hopes of the Bourbon party. They persisted in asserting 
 their resolution to let the French nation judge for themselves 
 under what government they should live; and to take no part 
 in their civil feuds. Talleyrand himself was in correspondence 
 with the Czar; but, in his letters, he, as far as is known, 
 confined himself to urging the advance of the armies. A 
 billet from him was delivered to Alexander just ere the final 
 rush on Paris began: it was in these words — (t You venture 
 nothing, when you may safely venture every thing — venture 
 once more.'' 
 
 On the 26th of March, the distant roaring of artillery was 
 heard at intervals on the boulevards of Paris; and the alarm 
 began to be violent. On the 27th (Sunday) Joseph Buona- 
 parte held a review in the Place Carousel; and the day being 
 fine, and the uniforms mostly new, the confidence of the spec- 
 tators rose, and the newspapers expressed their wishes that 
 the enemy could but behold what forces were ready to meet 
 and destroy them. That same evening the allies passed the 
 Marne at various points; at three in the morning of the 28th, 
 they took I/Ieaux; and at daybreak, "the terrified population 
 of the country between Meaux and Paris, came pouring into 
 the capital," says an eye-witness, " with their aged, infirm, 
 children and household goods of every description. The 
 boulevards were crowded with waggons, carts and carriages 
 thus laden, to which cattle were tied, and the whole surround- 
 ed with women." The regular troops now marched out of 
 the town, leaving all the barriers in charge of the national 
 guard. The confusion that prevailed everywhere was indis- 
 cribable. 
 
 14 
 
314 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxiv 
 
 On the 29th, the Empress, her son and most of the mem- 
 bers of the council of state, set off, attended by 700 soldiers, 
 for Rambouillet — from which they continued their journey to 
 Blois — and in their train went fifteen waggons laden with 
 plate and coin from the vaults of the Tuilleries. The specta- 
 tors looked on their departure in gloomy silence; and king 
 Joseph published the following proclamation; " Citizens of 
 Paris! A hostile column has descended on Meaux. It ad- 
 vances; but the Emperor follows close behind, at the head of 
 a victorious army. The council of regency has provided for 
 the safety of the Empress and the King of Rome. I remain 
 with you. Let us arm ourselves to defend this city, its monu- 
 ments, its riches, our wives and our children — all that is dear 
 to us. Let this vast capital become a camp for some mo- 
 ments; and let the enemy find his shame under the walls 
 which he hopes to overleap in triumph. The Emperor 
 marches to our succour. Second him by a short and vigo- 
 rous resistance, and preserve the honor of France." No 
 feeling favorable to Napoleon was^ stirred by this appeal. — 
 The boulevards continued to be thronged with multitudes of 
 people; but the most part received the proclamation with in- 
 difference — not a few with murmers. Some officers urged 
 Savary io have the streets unpaved, and persuade the people 
 to arm themselves with the stones, and prepare for a defence 
 such as that of Zaragossa. He answered, shaking his head, 
 " the thing cannot be done." 
 
 All day waggons of biscuit and ammunition were rolling 
 through the town; wounded soldiers came limping to the 
 barriers; and the Seine heaved thicker and thicker with the 
 carcasses of men and horses. That night, for once, the 
 theatres were deserted. 
 
 On the 30th, the allies fought and won the final battle. The 
 French occupied the whole range of heights from the Marne 
 at Charenton, to the Seine beyond St. Denis. It was about 
 eight o'clock when the Parisians, who had assembled in 
 anxious crowds at the barriers of St. Denis and of Vincen- 
 nes, the outlets from Paris, corresponding with the two ex- 
 tremities of the line, became sensible, from the dropping suc- 
 cession of musket-shots, which sounded like the detached 
 pattering of large drops of rain before a thunder-storm, that 
 the work of destruction was already commenced. Presently 
 platoons of musketry, with a close and heavy fire of cannon 
 from the direction of Belleville, announced that the engage- 
 ment had become general on that part of the line 
 
Chap, xxiv] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 315 
 
 General Rayefski had began the attack by pushing forward 
 a column, with the purpose of turning the heights of Romain- 
 ville on the right; but its progress having been arrested by a 
 heavy fire of artillery, the French suddenly became the as- 
 sailants, and, under the command of Marmont, rushed for- 
 ward and possessed themselves of the village of Pantin, in 
 advance of their line, an important post, which they had 
 abandoned on the preceding evening, at the approach of the 
 allied army. It was instantly recovered by the Russian 
 grenadiers, at the point of the bayonet; and the French, 
 although they several times attempted to resume the offensive, 
 were driven back by the Russians on the villages of Belle- 
 ville and Mesnilmontant, while the allies pushed forward 
 through the wood of Romainville, under the acclivity of the 
 heights. The most determined and sustained fire was direct- 
 ed upon them from the French batteries along the whole line 
 Several of these were served by youths of the Polytechnic 
 school, boys from twelve to sixteen years of age, who show- 
 ed the greatest activity and the most devoted courage. The 
 French infantry rushed repeatedly in columns from the 
 heights, where opportunities occurred to check the progress 
 of the allies. They were as often repulsed by the Russians, 
 each new attempt giving rise to fresh conflicts and more 
 general slaughter, while a continued and dispersed combat of 
 sharp-shooters took place among the groves, vineyards, and 
 gardens of the villas, with which the heights are covered. — 
 At length, by order of General de Tolli, the Russian eom- 
 mander-in chief, the front attack on the heights was suspend- 
 ed until the operations of the allies on the other points should 
 permit it to be resumed at a cheaper risk of loss. The Rus- 
 sian regiments which had been dispersed as sharp-shooters, 
 were withdrawn and again formed in rank, and it would seem 
 that the French seized this opportunity to repossess them- 
 selves of the village of Pantin, and to assume a momentary 
 superiority in the contest. 
 
 Blucher had received his orders late in the morning, and 
 could not commence the attack so early as that upon the left. 
 About eleven o'clock, having contented himself with observ- 
 ing and blockading a body of French troops, who occupied 
 the village of St. Denis, he directed the columns of General 
 Langeron against the village of Aubervijliers, and having 
 surmounted the obstinate opposition which was there made, 
 moved them right against the extremity of the heights of 
 Montmartre, whilst the division of Klieist and Yorck march- 
 
316 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON . [Chap xxiv 
 
 ed to attack in flank the villages of La Villette and Pantin, 
 and thus sustain the attack on the centre and right of the 
 French. The defenders, strongly entrenched and protected 
 by powerful batteries, opened the most formidable resistance, 
 and, as the ground was broken and impracticable for cavalry, 
 many of the acting columns suffered severely. When the 
 divisions of the Silesian army, commanded by Prince Wil- 
 liam of Prussia, first came to the assistance of the original 
 assailants upon the centre, the French concentrated them- 
 selves on the strong post of La Villette, and the farm Rouv- 
 roy, and continued to offer the most desperate resistance in 
 defence of these points. Upon the allied left wing the 
 Prussian Guards, and those of Baden, threw themselves with 
 rival impetuosity into the village of Pantin, and carried it at 
 the point of the bayonet. During these advantages, the 
 Prince Royal of Wirtemberg, on the extreme left of the 
 allies, had forced his way to Vincennes, and threatened the 
 right of the French battalions posted at Belleville, as had 
 been projected in the plan of the attack. General Rayefski 
 renewed the suspended assault upon these heights in front, 
 when he learned that they were thus in some measure turned 
 in flank, and succeeded in carrying those of Romainville, 
 with the village. Marmont and Oudinot in vain attempted a 
 charge upon the allied troops, who had thus established 
 themselves on the French line of defence. They were re- 
 pulsed and pursued by the victors, who, following up their 
 advantage, possessed themselves successively of the villages 
 of Belleville and Mesnilmontant, the Butte de St. Chaumont, 
 and the fine artillery which defended this line. About the 
 same time the village of Charonne, on the right extremity of 
 the heights, was also carried, and the whole line of defence 
 occupied by the right wing of the French fell into the pos- 
 session of the allies. Their light horse began to penetrate 
 from Vincennes as far as the barriers of Paris, and their guns 
 and mortars upon the heights were turned upon the city. 
 The centre of the French army had hitherto stood firm, pro- 
 tected by the redoubt at Rouvroy, with eighteen heavy 
 pieces of cannon, and by the village of La Villette, which 
 formed the key of the position. But the right flank of their 
 line being turned by those troops who had become possessed 
 of Romainville, the allies overwhelmed this part of the line 
 also, and carried by assault the farm of Rouvroy, with its 
 strong redoubt, and the village of La Villette, drove the 
 centre of the French back upon the city. A body of French 
 
Chap, xxiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 317 
 
 cavalaiy attempted to check the advance of the allied col- 
 umns, but were repulsed and destroyed by a charge of the 
 black hussars of Brandenburg. 
 
 The French defence, in spite of all the previous disasters, 
 and of the enormous superiority of the enemy's numbers, 
 was most brave; but ere two o'clock the allies had beaten 
 them at all points, except at Montmartre, where they were 
 rapidly making progress. Marmont sent several aides-de- 
 camp to request an armistice, and offer a capitulation. One 
 only of his messengers appears to have reached the head- 
 quarters of the sovereigns — and both the Czar and King of 
 Prussia immediately professed their willingness to spare the 
 city, provided the regular troops would evacuate it. Blucher, 
 meanwhile, continued pressing on at Montmartre, and shortly 
 after four, the victory being completed in that direction, the 
 French cannon were turned on the city, and shot and shells 
 began to spread destruction within its walls. The capitula- 
 tion was drawn up at five o'clock, close to the barrier St. 
 Denis. 
 
 We must now turn to Napoleon. It was not until the 27th 
 that he distinctly ascertained the fact of both the allied ar- 
 mies having marched directly on Paris. He instantly resolv- 
 ed to hasten after them, in hopes to arrive on their rear, ere 
 yet they had mastered the heights of Montmartre, nor did his 
 troops refuse to rush forward once more at his bidding. He 
 had to go round by Doulevent and Troyes, because the direct 
 route was ere now utterly wasted, and could not furnish food 
 for his men. At Doulevent he received a billet from La Vil- 
 lette, his postmaster-general, in these terms; " The parti- 
 sans of the stranger are making head, seconded by secret 
 intrigues. The presence of the Emperor is indispensable — 
 if he desires to prevent his capital from being delivered to 
 the enemy. There is not a moment to be lost." Urging his 
 advance accordingly with renewed eagerness, Buonaparte 
 reached Troyes on the night of the 29th — his men having 
 marched fifteen leagues since the daybreak. On the 30th he 
 continued to advance. Finding the road beyond Troyes 
 quite clear, he threw himself into a post-chaise, and travelled 
 on before his army at full speed, with hardly any attendance. 
 At Villeneuve L'Archeveque he mounted on horseback, and 
 galloping without a pause, reached Fontainebleau late in the 
 night. He there ordered a carriage, and taking Caulain- 
 court and Berthier into it, drove on towards Paris. Nothing 
 could shake his belief that he was yet in time — until, while 
 
318 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxiv. 
 
 he was bhanging horses at La Cour de France, but a few 
 miles from Paris, General Belliard came up at the head of a 
 column of cavalry — weary and dejected men, marching to- 
 wards Fontainbleau, in consequence of the provisions of 
 Marmont's capitulation, from the fatal field of Montmartre. — 
 Even then Napoleon refused to halt. Leaping from his car- 
 riage he began: "What means this? Why here with your 
 cavalry, Belliard? And where are the enemy? Where are 
 my wife and boy? Where Marmont? Where Mortier?'* — 
 Belliard, walking by his side, told him the events of the day. 
 He called out for his carriage, and insisted on continuing 
 his journey. The general in vain informe dhim there was no 
 longer an army in Paris; that the regulars were all coming 
 behind, and that neither they nqr he himself, having left the 
 city in consequence of a convention, could possibly return to 
 it. The Emperor still demanded his carriage, and bade Bel- 
 liard turn with the cavalry and follow him. " Come," said 
 he, "we must to Paris — nothing goes aright when I am away, 
 they do nothing but blunder." He strode on, crying, " You 
 should have held out longer — you should have raised Paris 
 — they cannot like the Cossacks — they would surely have 
 defended their walls — 'Go! go! I see every one has lost his 
 senses. This comes of employing people who have neither 
 common sense nor energy." With such exclamations Buona- 
 parte hurried onwards, dragging Belliard with him, until they 
 were met, a mile from La Cour de France, by the first of the 
 retreating infantry. Their commander, General Curial, gave 
 the same answers as Belliard. " In proceeding to Paris," 
 said he, "you rush on death or captivity." Perceiving at 
 length that the hand of necessity was on him, the Emperor 
 then abandoned his design. He sunk at once into perfect 
 composure; gave orders that the troops, as they arrived, 
 should draw up behind the little river Essone; despatched 
 Caulaincourt to Paris, with authority to accept whatever 
 terms the allied sovereigns might be pleased to offer; and 
 turned again towards Fontainbleau. It was still dark when 
 Napoleon reached once more that venerable castle. He re- 
 tired to rest immediately; not, however, in any of the state 
 rooms which he had been accustomed to occupy, but in a 
 smaller apartment, in a different and more sequestered part of 
 the building. 
 
 The Duke of Vicenza reached the Czar's quarters at Pan- 
 tin early on the morning of the 31st, while he was yet asleep; 
 and recognized amid the crowd in the antechamber, a deputa- 
 
Chap, xxiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 319 
 
 tion from the municipality of Paris, who were waiting to pre- 
 sent the keys of the city, and invoke the protection of the 
 conqueror. As soon as the Emperor awoke, these function- 
 aries were admitted to his presence, and experienced a most 
 courteous reception. The Czar repeated his favorite expres- 
 sion, that he had but one enemy in France; and promised 
 that the capital, and all within it, should be treated with per- 
 fect consideration. Caulaincourt then found his way to Al- 
 exander — but he was dismissed immediately. The counte- 
 nance of the envoy announced, as he came out, that he con- 
 sidered the fate of his master as decided; nor, if he had pre- 
 served any hope, could it have failed to expire when he learn- 
 ed that Alexander had already sent to Talleyrand, requesting 
 him on no account to quit the capital. 
 
 The Royalists welcomed with exultation the dawn of the 
 31st. Together with a proclamation of Schwartzenberg, 
 they circulated one of Monsieur, and another of Louis XVIII, 
 himself; and some of the leading gentlemen of the party, the 
 Montmorencys, the Noailles, the Rohans, the Rochefoucalds, 
 the Polignacs, the Chateaubriands, were early on horseback 
 in the streets; which they paraded without interruption from 
 any, either of the civil authorities, or of the national guard, 
 decorated with the symbols of their cause, and appealing 
 with eloquence to the feelings of the lookers-on. As yet, 
 however, they were only listened to. The mass of the peo- 
 ple were altogether uncertain what the end was to be; and in 
 the language of the chief orator himself, Rochefoucald, " the 
 silence was most dismal." At noon, the first of the allied 
 troops began to pass the barrier and enter the city. The 
 royalist cavaliers met them; but though many officers, ob- 
 serving the white cockade, exclaimed " la belle decoration!" 
 the generals refused to say any thing which might commit 
 their sovereigns. Some ladies of rank, however, now appear- 
 ed to take their part in the scene; and when these fair hands 
 were seen tearing their dresses to make white cockades, the 
 flame of their enthusiasm began to Spread. Various pickets 
 of the national guard had plucked the tricolor badge from 
 their caps, and assumed the white, ere many of the allies 
 passed the gates. 
 
 An immense crowd filled the Boulevards, (a large wide 
 open promenade, which, under a variety of destinctive names, 
 forms a circuit round the city,) in order to witness the en- 
 trance of the allied sovereigns and their army, whom, in the 
 succession of four and twenty hours, this mutable poople 
 
320 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxi* , 
 
 were disposed to regard as friends rather than enemies; a dis- 
 position which increased until it amounted to enthusiasm for 
 the persons of these princes, against whom a bloody battle 
 had been fought yesterday under the walls of Paris, in evi- 
 dence of which mortal strife, there still remained blackening 
 in the sun the unburied thousands who had fallen on both 
 sides. The procession lasted several hours, during which, 
 50,000 chosen troops of the Silesian and Grand Army filed 
 along the Boulevards in broad and deep columns, exhibiting a 
 whole forest of bayonets, mingled with long trains of artil- 
 lery, and preceded by numerous regiments of cavalry of 
 every description. Nothing surprised those who witnessed 
 this magnificent spectacle, more than the high state of good 
 order and regular equipment in which the men and horses 
 appeared. The monarchs at last halted, dismissed their sol- 
 diers to quarters in the city, saw Platoff and his Cossacks 
 establish their bivouac in the Champs Elysees, and retired to 
 the residence prepared for them; that of Alexander being 
 in the hotel of Talleyrand. 
 
 While the Czar was discussing with this wily veteran, and 
 a few other French statesmen, summoned at his request, the 
 state of public opinion, and the strength of the contending 
 parties, the population of Paris continued lost in surprise at 
 the sudden march of events, the altogether unexpected 
 amount of the troops of the allies — (for they that had figur- 
 ed in the triumphal procession were, it now appeared, from 
 the occupation of all the environs, but a fragment of the 
 whole) — and above all, perhaps, such is the theatric taste of 
 this people, the countless varieties of lineament and costume 
 observable among the warlike bands lounging and parading 
 about their streets and gardens. The capital wore the sem- 
 blance of some enormous masquerade. Circassian noble- 
 men in complete mail, and wild Bashkirs with bows and ar- 
 rows, were there. All ages as well as countries, seemed to 
 have sent their representatives, to stalk as victors amid the 
 nation which but yesterday claimed glory above the dreams 
 of antiquity, and the undisputed mastery of the European 
 world. 
 
 The council at the hotel of Talleyrand did not protract its 
 sitting. Alexander and Frederick William, urged by all 
 their assessors to re-establish the house of Bourbon, still 
 hesitated. " It is but a few days ago," said the Czar, " since 
 a column of 5 or 6000 new troops suffered themselves to be 
 cut to pieces before my eyes, when a single cry of ' vive le 
 
Chap, xxiy."] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 321 
 
 roi' would have saved them." De Pradt answered — le Such 
 things will go as long as you continue to treat with Buona- 
 parte — even although he has at this moment a halter round 
 his neck." The Czar did not understand this last allusion; 
 it was explained to' him that the Parisians were busy in pull- 
 ing down Napoleon's statue from the top of the great pillar 
 in the Place Vendome. Talleyrand now suggested that the 
 conservative senate should be convoked, and required to 
 nominate a provisional government, the members of which 
 should have power to arrange a constitution. And to this the 
 sovereigns assented. Alexander signed forthwith a proclama- 
 tion, asserting the resolution of the allies to " treat no more 
 with Napoleon Buonaparte, or any of his family." Talley- 
 rand had a printer in waiting, and the document was immedi- 
 ately published, with this significant affix, " Michaud, printer 
 to the king." If any doubt could have remained after this, it 
 must be supposed to have ceased at nine the same evening, 
 when the royalist gentry once more assembled, sent a second 
 deputation to Alexander, and were (the Czar himself having 
 retired to rest) received and answered in these words, by his 
 minister Nesselrode: — a I have just left the Emperor, and it 
 is in his name that I speak. Return to your assembly, and 
 announce to all the French, that Louis XVIII, will immedi- 
 ately ascend his throne." 
 
 The events of the two succeeding days were decisive. — 
 The municipal council met, and proclaimed that the throne 
 was empty. This bold act is supposed to have determined 
 the conservative senate. On the 1st of April that body also 
 assembled, and named a provisional government, with Talley- 
 rand for its head. The deposition of Napoleon was forth- 
 with put to the vote, and carried without even one dissenting 
 voice. On the 2d, the legislative senate, were in like man- 
 ner convoked; and they too ratified the decrees proposed by 
 the conservative. On the 3d, the senatus consultum was 
 published; and myriads t>f hands were busy in every corner 
 of the city, pulling d*jwn the statues and pictures, and effac- 
 ing the arms and initials of Napoleon. Meantime, the allied 
 princes, appointed military governors of Paris, were visible 
 daily at processions and festivals, and received, night after 
 night, in the theatres, the tumultuous applause of the most 
 inconstant of people. 
 
 It was in the night between the 2d and 3d that Caulain- 
 court returned from his mission to Fontainbleau, and inform- 
 ed Napoleon of the events which he had witnessed; he ad- 
 14* 
 
322 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxjv. 
 
 ded, that the allies had not yet, in his opinion, made up their 
 minds to resist the scheme of a regency, but he was com- 
 missioned to say nothing could be arranged, as to ulterior 
 questions, until he, the Emperor, had formally abdicated the 
 throne. The marshals assembled at Fontainbleau seem, on 
 hearing this intelligence, to have resolved unanimously that 
 they would take no further part in the war; but Napoleon 
 himself was not yet prepared to give up all without a strug- 
 gle. The next day, the 4th of April, he reviewed some of 
 his troops and announced his intention of instantly marching 
 to the capital, and was answered by enthusiastic shouts of 
 '-* Paris! Paris!" He, on this, conceiving himself to be se- 
 cure of the attachment of his soldiery, gave orders for ad- 
 vancing head-quarters to Essonne. With the troops which 
 had filed through Paris, under Marmont's convention, and 
 those which had followed himself from Troyes, nearly 50,000 
 men were once more assembled round Fontainbleau; and 
 with such support Napoleon was not yet so humbled as to 
 fear hazarding a blow, despite all the numerical superiority 
 of the allies. When, however, he retired to the chateau, 
 after the review, he was followed by his marshals, and respect- 
 fully, but firmly, informed, that if he refused to negotiate on 
 the basis of his personal abdication, and persisted in risking 
 an attack on Paris, they would not accompany him. He 
 paused for a moment in silence, and a long debate ensued. 
 The statements and arguments which he heard finally pre- 
 vailed; and Napoleon drew up, and signed, in language 
 worthy of the solemn occasion, this act: 
 
 " The allied powers having proclaimed that the Emperor 
 Napoleon is the sole obstacle to the re-establishment of peace 
 in Europe, he, faithful to his oath, declares that he is ready 
 to descend from the throne, to quit France and even to relin- 
 quish life, for the good of his country, which is inseparable 
 from the rights of his son, from those of the regency in the 
 person of the Empress, and from the maintenance of the 
 laws of the empire. Done at our palace of Fontainbleau, 
 April the 4th, 1814. " Napoleon." 
 
 Buonaparte appointed Caulaincourt to bear this document 
 to Paris on his behalf; and the marshals proposed that Ney 
 should accompany him as their representative. It was sug- 
 gested that Marmont also should form part of the deputation; 
 but he was in command of the advanced diyision at Essonne, 
 and Macdonald was named in his stead. These officers now 
 desired to know on what stipulations, as concerned the Era- 
 
Chap, xxiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 323 
 
 peror personally, they were to insist. u On none," he an- 
 swered, " obtain the best terms you can for France — for my- 
 self I ask nothing." 
 
 Hitherto nothing could be more composed or dignified than 
 his demeanour. He now threw himself on a sofa, hid his 
 countenance for some minutes, and then starting up with that 
 smile which had so often kindled every heart around him into 
 the flame of onset, exclaimed — " Let us march my comrades; 
 let us take the field once more." 
 
 The answer was silence, and some tears; and he, also in 
 silence, dismissed the messengers and the assemblage. Cau- 
 laincourt, Ney and Macdonald immediately commenced their 
 journey; and on reaching Essonne, received intelligence 
 which quickened their speed. Victor, and many other offi- 
 cers of the first rank, not admitted to the council at Fontaine- 
 bleau, and considering the events of the two preceding days 
 in the capital as decisive, had already sent in their adhesion 
 to the provisional government; and Marmont, the command- 
 er of Napoleon's division in advance, had not only taken the 
 same step for himself personally, but entered into a separate 
 convention the night before, under which it had been settled 
 that he should forthwith march his troops within the lines of 
 the allied armies. The marshals of the mission entreated 
 Marmont to suspend his purpose, and repair with themselves 
 to Paris. He complied; and on arriving in the capital, they 
 found themselves surrounded on all sides with the shouts of 
 vive le roi! Such sounds accompanied them to the hotel of 
 Talleyrand, where they were forthwith admitted to the pres- 
 ence of the Emperor of Russia. The act of abdication was 
 produced; and Alexander expressed his surprise that it should 
 contain no stipulations for Napoleon personally; "but I have 
 been his friend," said he, " I will willingly be his advocate. 
 I propose that he should retain his imperial title, with the 
 sovereignty of Elba, or some other island." 
 
 When the marshals retired from Alexander's presence, it 
 still remained doubtful whether the abdication would be ac- 
 cepted in its present form, or the allies would insist on an un- 
 conditional surrender. There came tidings almost on the 
 instant which determined the question. Napoleon had, short- 
 ly after the mission left him, sent orders to General Souham, 
 who commanded at Essonne in the absence of Marmont, to 
 repair to his presence at Fontainebleau. Souham, who, like 
 all the other upper officers of Marmont's corps (with but two 
 exceptions,) approved of the convention of the 3d, was 
 
324 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxiy 
 
 alarmed on receiving this message. His brethren, being 
 summoned to council, participated in his fears; and the reso- 
 lution was taken to put the convention at once in execution. 
 The troops were wholly ignorant of what was intended, when 
 they commenced their march at five in the morning of the 
 5th; and for the first time suspected the secret views of their 
 chiefs, when they found themselves in the midst of the allied 
 lines,. and watched on all sides by overwhelming numbers, in 
 the neighborhood of Versailles. A violent commotion ensued; 
 some blood was shed; but the necessity of submission was so 
 obvious, that ere long they resumed the appearance of order, 
 and were cantoned in quiet in the midst of the allies. 
 
 This piece of intelligence was followed by more of the 
 like complexion. Officers of all ranks began to abandon the 
 camp at Fontainebleau, and present themselves to swear 
 allegiance to the new government. At length the allied 
 princes signified their resolution to accept of nothing but an 
 unconditional abdication; making the marshals, however, the 
 bearers of their unanimous accession to the proposals of Al- 
 exander in favor of Napoleon and his house; which as finally 
 shaped, were these: — 
 
 1st, The imperial title to be preserved by Napoleon, with 
 the free sovereignty of Elba, guards and a navy suitable to 
 the extent of that island, and a pension, from France, of six 
 millions of francs annually; 2d, The Dutchies of Parma, 
 Placentia and Guastalla to be granted in sovereignty to Maria 
 Louisa and her heirs; and 3d, Two millions and a half of 
 francs annually to be paid by the French government, in pen- 
 sions to Josephine and the other members of the Buonaparte 
 family. 
 
 Napoleon, on hearing the consequences of Marmont's de- 
 fection, exclaimed, "Ungrateful man! but I pity him more 
 than myself." Every hour thenceforth he was destined to 
 meet similar mortifications. Berthier, his chosen and trusted 
 friend, asked leave to go on private business to Paris, adding 
 that he would return in a few hours. The Emperor consent- 
 ed; and, as he left the apartment, whispered with a smile, 
 ie he will return no more." What Napoleon felt even more 
 painfully, was, the unceremonious departure of his favorite 
 Mameluke, Rustan. 
 
 Ere the marshals returned from Paris, he reviewed his 
 guard again; and it was obvious to those about him that he 
 still hankered after the chances of another field. We may 
 imagine that his thoughts were like those of Macbeth: — 
 
Chap, xxiv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 326 
 
 " I have lived long enough; my May of life 
 Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf. 
 
 Come, put mine armor on; give me my staff, 
 The Thanes fly from me." 
 
 He sometimes meditated a march southward, collecting on his 
 way the armies of Augereau and Soult, and re-opening the 
 campaign as circumstances might recommend, behind either 
 the Loire or the Alps. At other times the chance of yet 
 rousing the population of Paris recurred to his imagination. 
 Amid these dreams, of which every minute more clearly 
 showed the vanity, Napoleon received the ultimatum of the 
 allies. He hesitated, and pondered long ere he would sign 
 his acceptance of it. The group of his personal followers 
 had been sorely thinned; and the armies of the allies, gradu- 
 ally pushing forward from Paris, had nearly surrounded Fon- 
 tainebleau, ere he at length (on the 11th of April) abandoned 
 all hope, and executed an instrument, formally " renouncing 
 for himself and his heirs, the thrones of France and Italy," 
 
 Napoleon remained long enough at Fontainebleau to hear 
 of the restoration of the Bourbon monarchy, and the entrance 
 of the Count d'Artois, (afterwards Charles X,) into Paris, 
 as lieutenant for his brother, Louis XVIII. On the 20th of 
 April, Napoleon called his officers about him, and signified 
 that they were summoned to receive his last adieus. Several 
 of the marshals, who had some time before sworn fealty to the 
 king, were present. " Louis," said he, " has talents and 
 means: he is old and infirm; and will not, I think, choose to 
 give a bad name to his reign. If he is wise, he will occupy 
 my bed, and only change the sheets. But he must treat the 
 army well, and take care not to look back on the past, or his 
 time will be brief. For you, gentlemen, I am no longer to be 
 with you;— you have another government; and it will become 
 you to attach yourselves to it frankly, and serve it as faithful- 
 ly as you have served me." .,'/*, 
 
 He now desired that the relics of his imperial' guard might 
 be drawn up in the court-yard of the castle. He advanced 
 to them on horseback; and tears dropped from his eyes as he 
 dismounted in the midst. " All Europe," said Napoleon, 
 " has armed against me. France herself has deserted me, 
 and chosen another dynasty. I might with my soldiers have 
 maintained a civil war for years — but it would have rendered 
 France unhappy. Be faithful to the new sovereign whom 
 your country has chosen. Do not lament my fate: I shall 
 be ha*ppy while I know that you are so. I could have died — 
 
326 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxiv. 
 
 nothing was easier — but I will always follow the path of hon- 
 or. I will record with my pen the deeds we have done to- 
 gether. I cannot embrace you all," (he continued, taking 
 the commanding officer in his arms) — u but I embrace your 
 general. Bring hither the eagle. Beloved eagle! may the 
 kisses I bestow on you long resound in the hearts of the 
 brave ! Farewell, my children — farewell, my brave compan- 
 ions — surround me once more — farewell!" 
 
 Amid the silent but profound grief of these brave men, 
 submitting, like himself to the irresistible force of events, 
 Napoleon placed himself in his carriage, and drove rapidly 
 from Fontainebleau. 
 
 Of all that lamented the fall of this extraordinary man, 
 there was perhaps no one who shed bitterer tears than the 
 wife of his youth. Josephine had fled from Paris on the ap- 
 proach of the allies; but being assured of the friendly pro- 
 tection of the Czar, returned to Malmaison ere Napoleon 
 quitted Fontainebleau. The Czar visited her frequently, and 
 endeavored to sooth her affliction. But the ruin of "her 
 Achilles," " her Cid," (as she now once more, in the day of 
 misery, called Napoleon,) had entered deep into her heart.— 
 She sickened and died ere the allies left France. 
 
 Maria Louisa, and her son, meanwhile, were taken under 
 the personal protection of the Emperor of Austria, and had 
 began their journey to Vienna some time ere Buonaparte 
 reached Elba. 
 
 The long agony was at length over, and the sun of Na- 
 poleon's glory set — not to rise no more — it was destined 
 once again to ascend the horizon, and after a short but efful- 
 gent day, lo set in darkness and blood. 
 
Chap, xxv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 327 
 
 CHAP. XXV. 
 
 Napoleon arrives at Elba. His conduct and occupations there. Dis- 
 contents in F»ance. French prisoners of war return home. Napoleon 
 escapes from Elba and lands in France. His progress towards the 
 capital. Enthusiasm of the soldiery. King Louis escapes to Ghent. — . 
 Napoleon enters Paris. Declaration of the Allied Powecs. Napoleon 
 prepares for war. Murat advances from Naples. He is defeated, and 
 subsequently condemned and shot. 
 
 Four commissioners, one from each of the great allied 
 powers, Austria, Russia, Prussia and England, accompanied 
 Buonaparte on his journey. He was attended by Bertrand, 
 grand master of the palace, and some other attached friends 
 and servants; and while fourteen carriages were conveying 
 him and his immediate suite towards Elba, 700 infantry and 
 about 150 cavalry of the imperial guard (all picked men, 
 and all volunteers,) marched in the same direction, to take 
 on them the military duties of the exiled court. 
 
 A French vessel had been sent round from Toulon to 
 Cannes, for the purpose of conveying him to Elba; but there 
 happened to be an English frigate also in the roads, and he 
 preferred sailing under any flag rather than the Bourbon. — 
 He came within view of his new dominions on the afternoon 
 of the 4th of May, and went ashore in disguise the same 
 evening. Finding that the people considered his residence 
 as likely to increase in every way the consequence and pros- 
 perity of their island, he returned on board the ship, and at 
 noon, the day after, made his public entrance into the town 
 of Porto Ferraio, amid all possible demonstration of welcome 
 and respect. 
 
 The island — mountainous and rocky, for the most part 
 barren, and of a circumference not beyond sixty miles — was 
 his; and the Emperor forthwith devoted to Elba the same 
 anxious care and industry which had sufficed for the whole 
 affairs of France, and the superintendence and control of 
 half of Europe besides. He, in less than three weeks, had 
 explored every corner of the island, and projected more im- 
 provements of all sorts than would have occupied a long life- 
 time to complete. He even extended his empire by sending 
 some dozen or two of his soldiers to take possession of a 
 small adjacent islet, hitherto left unoccupied for fear of Cor- 
 sairs. He established four different residences at different 
 
328 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEO#. [Chap, xxv 
 
 corners of Elba, and was continually in m<5tion from one to 
 another of them. Wherever he was, all the etiquettes of the 
 Tuilleries were, as far as possible, adhered to; and Napoleon's 
 eight or nine hundred veterans were reviewed as frequently 
 and as formally as if they had been the army of Austerlitz 
 or of Moscow. His presence gave a new stimulus to the 
 trade and industry of the islanders; the small port of Ferraio 
 was crowded with vessels from the opposite coasts of Italy; 
 and, such was still the power of his name, that the new flag 
 of Elba (covered with Napoleon's bees) traversed with impu- 
 nity the seas most infested with the Moorish pirates. 
 
 Buonaparte's eagerness as to architectural and other im- 
 provements was, ere long, however, checked in a manner suf- 
 ficiently new to him — namely, by the want of money. The 
 taxes of the island were summarily increased; but this gave 
 rise to discontent among the Elbese, without replenishing 
 at all adequately the Emperor's exchequer. Had the French 
 government paid his pension in advance, or at least quarterly, 
 as it fell due, even that would have borne a slender proportion 
 to the demands of his magnificent imagination. But Na- 
 poleon received no money whatever from the Bourbon court; 
 and his complaints on this head were unjustly, and unwisely 
 neglected. These new troubles imbittered the spirit of Buo- 
 naparte; and, the first excitement of novelty being over, he 
 sunk into a state of comparative indolence, and apparently of 
 listless dejection; from which, however, he was, ere long, to 
 be roused effectually. 
 
 Louis XVIII, advanced in years, gross and infirm in per- 
 son, and devoted to the luxuries of the table, was but ill 
 adapted for occupying, in such trying times, the throne which, 
 even amid all the blaze of genius and victory, Napoleon 
 had at best found uneasy and insecure. He had been called 
 to the throne by the French senate, in a decree which at the 
 same time declared the legislative constitution as composed 
 of an hereditary sovereign and two houses of assembly, to be 
 fixed and unchangeable; which confirmed the rights of all 
 who had obtained property in consequence of the events of 
 the revolution, and the titles and orders conferred by Buo- 
 naparte: in a word, which summoned the Bourbon to ascend 
 the throne of Napoleon — on condition that he should preserve 
 that political system which Napoleon had violated. Louis, 
 however, though he proceeded to France on this invitation, 
 did not hesitate to date his first act in the twentieth year of 
 his reign; and though he issued a charter, conferring, as 
 
Chap, xxv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 329 
 
 from his own free will, every privilege which the senate 
 claimed for themselves and the nation, this mode of com- 
 mencement could not fail to give deep offence to those, not 
 orignally of his party, who had consented to his recall. — 
 These men saw, in such assumptions, the traces of those old 
 doctrines of divine right, which they had through life abhor- 
 red and combated; and asked why, if all their privileges were 
 but the gifts of the king, they might not, on any tempting op- 
 portunity, be withdrawn by the same authority? They, 
 whose possessions and titles had all been won since the death 
 of Louis XVI, were startled when they found, that according 
 to the royal doctrine, there had been no legitimate govern- 
 ment all that while in France. The exiled nobles, mean- 
 while, were naturally the personal friends and companions of 
 the restored princes. Among themselves it was no wonder 
 that expectations were cherished, and even avowed, of recov- 
 ering gradually, if not rapidly, the estates of which the revo- 
 lution had deprived them. The churchmen, who had never 
 gone heartily into Napoleon's ecclesiastical arrangements, 
 sided of course with these impoverished and haughty lords; 
 and, in a word, the first tumult oif the restoration being over, 
 the troops of the allies withdrawn, and the memory of recent 
 sufferings and disasters beginning to wax dim, there were 
 abundant elements of discontent afloat among all those classes 
 who had originally approved, or profited by, the revolution of 
 1792. 
 
 Of these the most powerful remains to be noticed; and in- 
 deed, had the Bourbons adopted judicious measures concern- 
 ing the army, it is very probable that the alarms of the other 
 classes now alluded to might have ere long subsided. The 
 allies, in the moment of universal delight and conciliation, re- 
 stored at once, and without stipulation, the whole of the 
 prisoners who had fallen into their hands during the war. — 
 At least 150,000 veteran soldiers of Buonaparte were thus 
 poured into France ere Louis was well seated on the throne; 
 men, the greater part of whom had witnessed nothing of the 
 last disastrous campaigns; who had sustained themselves in 
 their exile by brooding over the earlier victories in which 
 themselves had had a part; and who now, returning fresh and 
 vigorous to their native soil, had but one answer to every tale 
 of misfortune which met them: "These things could never 
 have happened had we been here." 
 
 The restored king, on his part, was anxious about nothing 
 so much as to conciliate the affections of the army. With 
 
330 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxv. 
 
 this view he kept together bands which, long accustomed to 
 all the license of warfare, would hardly have submitted to 
 peace even under Napoleon himself. The imperial guard, 
 those chosen and devoted children of the Emperor, were 
 maintained entire on their old establishment; the legion of 
 honor was continued as before; the war ministry was given 
 to Soult, the ablest, in common estimation, of Buonaparte's 
 surviving marshals; and the other officers of that high rank 
 were loaded with every mark of royal consideration. When, 
 without dissolving or weakening the imperial (now royal) 
 guard, he formed a body of household troops, composed of 
 gentlemen, and trusted them with the immediate attendance 
 on his person and court, this was considered as a heinous in- 
 sult; and when the king bestowed the cross of the legion of 
 honor on persons who would have much preferred that of St. 
 Louis, the only comment that obtained among the warriors of 
 Austerlitz and Friedland was, that which ascribed to the 
 Bourbons a settled design of degrading the decoration which 
 they had purchased with their blood. 
 
 In a word, the French soldiery remained cantoned in the 
 country in a temper stern, gloomy, and sullen; jealous of the 
 prince whose bread they were eating; eager to wipe out the 
 memory of recent disasters in new victories; and cherishing 
 more and more deeply the notion (not perhaps unfounded) 
 that had Napoleon not been betrayed at home, no foreigners 
 could ever have hurled him from his throne. Nor could such 
 sentiments fail to be partaken, more or less, by the officers of 
 every rank who had served under Buonaparte. They felt, 
 almost universally, that it must be the policy of the Bourbons 
 to promote, as far as possible, others rather than themselves. 
 And even as to those of the very highest class — could any 
 peaceful honors compensate, to such spirits as Ney and Soult, 
 for a revolution, that for ever shrouded in darkness the glit- 
 tering prizes on which Napoleon had encouraged them to 
 speculate? If we take into account the numerous personal 
 adherents whom the imperial government, must have possess- 
 ed — and the political humiliation of France in the eyes of 
 all Europe, as well as of the French people themselves, im- 
 mediately connected with the disappearance of Napoleon-— 
 we shall have some faint conception of that mass of multifa- 
 rious griefs and resentments, in the midst of which the un- 
 wieldly and inactive Louis occupied, ere long, a most unen- 
 viable throne — and on which the eagle-eyed exile of Elba 
 
Chap, xxv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 331 
 
 gazed with reviving hope, even before the summer of 1814 
 had reached its close. 
 
 Ere then, as we have seen, the demeanour and conduct of 
 Napoleon were very different from what they had been when 
 he first took possession of his mimic empire. Ere then his 
 mother, his sister Pauline (a woman, whose talents for in- 
 trigue equalled her personal charms,) and not a few ancient 
 and attached servants, both of his civil government and of his 
 army, had found their way to Elba, and figured in '* his 
 little senate." Pauline made repeated voyages to Italy, 
 and returned again. New and busy faces appeared in the 
 circle of Porto Ferraio — and disappeared forthwith — no one 
 knew whence they had come or whither they went; an air of 
 bustle and of mystery pervaded the atmosphere of the 
 place. 
 
 What persons in France were actually in communication 
 on political subjects with the court of Elba, during that 
 autumn and the following winter, is likely to remain a secret: 
 that they were neither few, nor inactive, nor unskilful, the 
 event will sufficiently prove. The chiefs of the police and 
 of the post-office had been removed by Louis; but the whole 
 inferior machinery of these establishments remained untouch- 
 ed; and it is generally believed, that both were early and 
 sedulously employed in the service of the new conspiracy. — 
 We have seen that Soult was commander-in-chief of the ar- 
 my; and it is very difficult, on considering the subsequent 
 course of events, to doubt that he also made a systematic use 
 of his authority with the same views, distributing and arrang- 
 ing the troops according to far other rules than the interests 
 of his royal master. 
 
 Ere the autumn closed, Buonaparte granted furloughs on 
 various pretexts to about 200 of his guardsmen; and these 
 were forthwith scattered over France, actively disseminating 
 the praises of their chief, and though probably not aware how 
 soon such an attempt was meditated, preparing the minds 
 of their ancient comrades for considering it as by no means un 
 likely that he would yet once more appear in the midst of 
 them. It is certain that a notion soon prevailed, that Na- 
 poleon would revisit the soil of France in the spring of the 
 coming year. He was toasted among the soldiery, and else- 
 where also, under the soubriquet of corporal Violet. That 
 early flower, or a riband of its color, was the symbol of re- 
 bellion, and worn openly, in the sight of the unsuspecting 
 Bourbons. 
 
332 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxv. 
 
 Their security was as profound as hollow; nor was it con- 
 fined to them. The representatives of all the European prin- 
 ces had met in Vienna, to settle finally a number of quest ons 
 left undecided at the termination of the war. Talleyrand was 
 there for France, and Wellington for England; and yet it is 
 on all hands admitted, that no surprise was ever more sudden, 
 complete and universal than theirs, when on the 11th of 
 March, 1815, a courier arrived among them with the intelli- 
 gence that Napoleon Buonaparte had reared his standard in 
 Provence. 
 
 The evening before Napoleon sailed (February the 26th,) 
 his sister Pauline gave a ball, to which all the officers of the 
 Elbese army were invited. A brig (the Inconstant) and six 
 small craft had meanwhile been prepared for the voyage, and 
 at dead of night, without apparently any previous intimation, 
 the soldiers were mustered by tuck of drum, and found them- 
 selves on board ere they could ask for what purpose. When 
 the day broke th'ey perceived that all the officers and the 
 Emperor himself were with them, and that they were steer- 
 ing for the coast of France; and it could no longer be doubt- 
 ful that the scheme which had for months formed the darling 
 object of all their hopes and dreams was about to be 
 realized. 
 
 On the 1st of March he was once more off Cannes — the 
 same spot which had received him from Egypt, and at which 
 he had embarked ten months before for Elba. There was no 
 force whatever to oppose his landing; and his handful of men 
 — 500 grenadiers of the guard, 200 dragoons, and 100 Polish 
 lancers, these last without horses, and carrying their saddles 
 on their backs — were immediately put in motion on the road 
 to Paris. Twenty-five grenadiers, whom he detached to 
 summon Antibes, were arrested on the instant by the govern- 
 or of that place; but he despised this omen, and proceeded 
 without a pause. He bivouacked that night in a plantation 
 of olives, with all his men about him. As soon as the moon 
 rose, the reveillee sounded. A laborer going thus early 
 afield, recognised the Emperor's person, and, with a cry of 
 joy, said he had served in the army of Italy, and would join 
 the march. "Here is already a reinforcement," said Na- 
 poleon; and the march recommenced. Early in the morn- 
 ing they passed through the town of Grasse, and halted on 
 the height beyond it — where the whole population of the 
 place forthwith surrounded them, some cheering, the great 
 majority looking on in perfect silence, but none offering any 
 
Chap, xxv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 333 
 
 show of opposition. The roads were so bad in this neighbor- 
 hood, that the pieces of cannon which they had with them 
 were obliged to be abandoned in the course of the day, but 
 they had marched full twenty leagues ere they halted for the 
 night at Gerenon. On the 5th, Napoleon reached Gap. He 
 was now in Dauphiny, called " the cradle of the revolution," 
 and the sullen silence of the Provencals was succeeded by 
 popular acclamations; but still no soldiers had joined him — 
 and his anxiety was great. 
 
 It was at Gap that lie published his first proclamation; one 
 j "to the army," another 4 'to the French people," both no 
 doubt prepared at Elba, though dated " March 1st, Gulf of 
 Juan." The former, and more important of the two, ran in 
 these words — " Soldiers we have not been beaten. Two 
 men, raised from our ranks, betrayed our laurels, their coun- 
 try, their prince, their benefactor. In my exile I have heard 
 j your voice. I have arrived once more among you, despite 
 1 all obstacles and all perils. We ought to forget that we have 
 been the masters of the world; but we ought never to suffer 
 foreign interference in our affairs. Who dares pretend to be 
 master over us? Take again the eagles which you followed 
 ! at Ulm, at Austerlitz, at Jena and at Montmirail. Come and 
 range yourselves under the banners of your old chief. Vic- 
 ! tory shall march at the charging step. The eagle, with the 
 j national colors, shall fly from steeple to steeple — on to the 
 (towers of Notre Dame! In your old age, surrounded and 
 honored by your fellow citizens, you shall be heard with re- 
 spect when you recount your high deeds. You then shall 
 j say with pride: I also was one of that great army which en- 
 I tered twice within the walls of Yienna, which took Rome 
 ! and Berlin, and Madrid and Moscow, and which delivered 
 Paris from the stain printed on it by domestic treason, and the 
 occupation of strangers." 
 
 It was between Mure and Yizele that Cambronne, who 
 
 ! commanded his advanced guard of forty grenadiers, met 
 
 suddenly a battalion sent forwards from Grenoble to arrest 
 
 I the march. The colonel refused to parley with Cambronne; 
 
 | either party halted until Napoleon himself came up. He did 
 
 ' not hesitate for a moment. He dismounted, and advanced 
 
 jalone; some paces behind him came a hundred of his guard,, 
 
 with their arms reversed. There was perfect silence on all 
 
 sides until he was within a few yards of the men. He then 
 
 halted, threw open his surtout .so as to show the star of the 
 
 legion of honor, and exclaimed, " If there be among you a 
 
334 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxv. 
 
 soldier who desires to kill his general — his Emperor — let him 
 do it now. Here I am." — The old cry of Vive l'Empereur 
 burst instantaneously from every lip. Napoleon threw him- 
 self among them, and taking a veteran private, covered with 
 cheverons and medals, by the whisker, said, " Speak honest- 
 ly, old Moustache, couldst thou have had the heart to kill thy 
 Emperor?" The man dropped his ramrod into his piece to 
 show that it was uncharged, and answered, " Judge if I could 
 have done thee much harm — all the rest are the same." — 
 Napoleon gave the word, and the old adherents and the 
 new marched together on Grenoble. 
 
 Some space ere they reached that town, Colonel Labedo 
 yere, an officer of noble family, and who had been promoted 
 by Louis XVIII, appeared on the road before them, at the head 
 of his regiment, the seventh of the line. These men, and the 
 Emperor's little column, on coming within view of each oth- 
 er, rushed simultaneously from the ranks and embraced with 
 mutual shouts of Live Napoleon! Live the guard! Live 
 the seventh! Labedoyere produced an eagle, which he 
 had kept concealed about his person, and broke open a drum 
 which was found to be filled with tricolor cockades; these 
 ancient ensigns were received with redoubled enthusiasm. — 
 This was the first instance of an officer of superior rank vol- 
 untarily espousing the side of Napoleon. The impulse thus 
 afforded was decisive: in spite of all the efforts of General 
 Marchand, commandant of Grenoble, the whole of that gar- 
 rison, when he approached the walls, exclaimed, Vive l'Em- 
 pereur! Their conduct, however, exhibited a* singular spec- 
 tacle. Though thus welcoming Napoleon with their voices, 
 they would not so far disobey the governor as to throw open 
 the gates. On the other hand, no argument could prevail on 
 them to fire on the advancing party. In the teeth of all the 
 batteries, Buonaparte calmly planted a howitzer or two and 
 blew the gates open; and then, as if the spell of discipline 
 was at once dissolved, the garrison broke from their lines, 
 and Napoleon in an instant found himself dragged from his 
 horse, and borne aloft on these men's shoulders towards the 
 principal inn of the place, amid the clamours of enthusiastic 
 and delirious joy. Marchand remained faithful to his oath; 
 and was dismissed without injury. Next morning the authori- 
 ties of Grenoble waited on Napoleon, and tendered their hom- 
 age. He reviewed his troops, now about 7000 in number; 
 and on the 9th of March, recommenced his march on Lyons. 
 On the 10th Buonaparte came within sight of Lyons, and 
 
Chap, xxv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 335 
 
 was informed that Monsieur and Marshal Macdonald had 
 arrived to take the command, barricaded the bridge of Guillo- 
 tierre, and posted themselves at the head of a large force to 
 dispute the entrance of the town. Nothing daunted with 
 this intelligence, the column moved on, and at the bridge of 
 Lyons, as at the gates of Grenoble, all opposition vanished 
 when his person was recognised by the soldiery. The prince 
 and Macdonald were forced to retire, and Napoleon entered 
 the second city of France in triumph. 
 
 It was at Lyons, where Napoleon remained from the 10th 
 to the 13th, that he formally resumed the functions of civil 
 government. He published various decrees at this place; 
 one, commanding justice to be administered every where in 
 his name after the 15th; another abolishing the chamber of 
 the peers and the deputies, and summoning all the electoral 
 colleges to meet in Paris at a Champ-de-Mai, there to wit- 
 ness the coronation of Maria Louisa and of her son, and set- 
 tle definitively the constitution of the state; a third, ordering 
 into banishment all whose names had not been erased from the 
 list of emigrants prior to the abdication of Fontainebleau; a 
 fourth, depriving all strangers and emigrants of their com- 
 missions in the army; a fifth, abolishing the order of St. 
 Louis, and bestowing all its revenues on the legion of honor; 
 and a sixth, restoring in their authority all magistrates who 
 had been deprived by the Bourbon government. These proc- 
 lamations could not be prevented from reaching Paris; and 
 the court, abandoning their system of denying or extenuating 
 the extent of the impending danger, began to adopt more en- 
 ergetic means for its suppression. 
 
 It was now that Marshal Ney volunteered his services to 
 take the command of a large body of troops, whose fidelity 
 was considered sure, and who were about to be sent to Lons- 
 le-Saunier, there to intercept and arrest Napoleon. Well 
 aware of this great officer's influence in the army, Louis did 
 not hesitate to accept his proffered assistance; and Ney, on 
 kissing his hand at parting, swore that in the course of a 
 week he would bring Buonaparte to his majesty's feet in a 
 cage, like a wild beast. On reaching Lons-le-Saunier, Ney 
 received a letter from Napoleon, summoning him to join his 
 standard as " the bravest of the brave.'' In how far he guid- 
 ed or followed the sentiments of his soldiery we know not, 
 but the fact is certain, that he and they put themselves in 
 motion forthwith, and joined the march of Buonaparte on the 
 17th at Auxerre. , 
 
336 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxv. 
 
 In and about the capital there still remained troops far 
 more than sufficient in numbers to overwhelm the advancing 
 column, and drag its chief to the feet of Louis. He intrust- 
 ed the command of these battalions to one whose personal 
 honor was as clear as his military reputation was splendid — 
 Marshal Macdonald; and this gentleman proceeded to take 
 post at Melun, in good hope, notwithstanding all that had hap- 
 pened, of being duly supported in the discharge of his com- 
 mission. 
 
 On the 19th, Napoleon slept once more in the chateau of 
 Fontainebleau; on the morning of the 20th, he advanced 
 through the forest in full knowledge of Macdonald's arrange- 
 ments — and he advanced alone. It was about noon that the 
 marshal's troops, who had for some time been under arms on 
 an eminence beyond the wood, listening, apparently with de- 
 light, to the loyal strains of Vive Henri Quatre and La Belle 
 Gabrielle, perceived suddenly a single open carriage coming 
 at full speed towards them from among the trees. A hand- 
 ful of Polish horsemen, with their lances reversed, followed 
 the equipage. The little flat cocked hat — the grey sur- 
 tout — the person of Napoleon was recognised. In an instant 
 the men burst from their ranks, surrounded him with the 
 cries of Vive l'Empereur, and trampled their white cockades 
 in the dust. 
 
 Macdonald escaped to Paris; but his master had not await- 
 ed the issue of the last stand at Melun. Amid the tears and 
 lamentations of the loyal burghers of the capital, and the re- 
 spectful silence of those who really wished for the success of 
 his rival, Louis had set off from the Tuilleries in the middle 
 of the preceding night. Macdonald overtook him, and ac- 
 companied him to the frontier of the Netherlands, which he 
 reached in safety. There had been a plan organized by 
 Generals Lallemand and Lefebre for seizing the roads be- 
 tween Paris and Belgium, and intercepting the flight of the 
 king; but Marshal Mortier had been successful in detecting 
 and suppressing this movement. On the evening of the 20th 
 of March, Napoleon once more entered Paris. He came 
 preceded and followed by the soldiery, on whom alone he had 
 relied, and who, by whatever sacrifices, had justified his con- 
 fidence. The streets were silent as the travel-worn caval- 
 cade passed along; but all that loved the name or the cause 
 of Napoleon were ready to receive him in the Tuilleries; and 
 he was almost stifled by the pressure of those enthusiastic 
 adherents, who, the moment he stopped, mounted him on their 
 
Chap, xxv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON 337 
 
 shoulders, and carried him in triumph up the great staircase 
 of the palace. 
 
 The instant that the news of Napoleon's daring movement 
 reached Vienna, the congress published a proclamation in 
 these words: " By breaking the convention which establish- 
 ed him in Elba, Buonaparte destroys the only legal title on 
 which his existence depended. By appearing again in 
 France, with projects of confusion and disorder, he has de- 
 prived himself of the protection of the law, and manifested 
 to the universe that there can be neither peace nor truce 
 with him. The powers consequently declare, that Napoleon 
 Buonaparte has placed himself without the pale of civil and 
 social relations, and that, as an enemy and disturber of the 
 tranquility of the world, he has rendered himself liable to 
 public vengeance." These sentiments underwent no change 
 in consequence of the apparently triumphant course of Na- 
 poleon's adventure. All Europe prepared once more for 
 war. It was evident Napoleon owed every thing to the 
 French soldiery — that body to which the treaty of Paris had 
 at once restored 150,000 veterans, idle and indisposed for or- 
 dinary labor — and that until this ferocious military were ef- 
 fectually humbled, there could be no peace for the world. — * 
 A formal treaty was forthwith entered into, by which the four 
 great powers bound themselves to maintain each of them at 
 least 150,000 troops in arms, until Buonaparte should either 
 be dethroned, or reduced so low as no longer to endanger the 
 peace of Europe. The other states of the continent were 
 to be invited to join the alliance, furnishing contingents ade- 
 quate to their respective resources. The king of France 
 was to be requested to sign the treaty also; but with refer- 
 ence to this article an explanatory note was affixed, by the 
 representatives of the prince regent of England, denying, on 
 the part of his royal highness, any wish to force a particular 
 government on the people of France; and it was also stipu- 
 lated, that in case Britain should not furnish all the men 
 agreed, she should compensate by paying at the rate of <£30 
 per annum for every cavalry soldier, and £20 per annum for 
 every foot soldier under the full number. Such was the 
 treaty of Vienna; but the zeal of the contracting parties ere 
 long went far beyond the preparations indicated in its terms, 
 and, in effect, Napoleon was hardly reseated on his throne ere 
 he learned that he must in all likelihood maintain it against 
 300,000 Austrians, 225,000 Russians, 236,000 Prussians, an 
 army of 150,000 men furnished by the minor states of Ger- 
 
 15 
 
338 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxv 
 
 many, 50,000 contributed by the government of the Nether- 
 lands, and 50,000 English, commanded by the Duke of 
 Wellington; in all 1,01 1,000 soldiers. 
 
 His preparations to meet this gigantic confederacy began 
 from the moment when he re-established himself in the Tuil- 
 leries. Carnot became once more minister of war; and 
 what Napoleon and he, when laboring together in the re-or- 
 ganization of an army, could effect, had been abundantly 
 manifested at the commencement of the consulate. The ar- 
 my cantoned in France, when Buonaparte landed at Cannes, 
 numbered 175,000; the cavalry had been greatly reduced; 
 and the disasters of 1812, 1813 and 1814 were visible in the 
 miserable deficiency of military stores and arms, especially 
 of artillery. By incredible exertions, notwithstanding the 
 pressure of innumerable cares and anxieties of all kinds, and 
 although the temper of the nation prevented him from having 
 recourse to the old method of conscription — the Emperor, ere 
 May was over, had 375,000 men in arms, including an impe- 
 rial guard of 40,000 chosen veterans, in the most splendid 
 state of equipment and discipline, a large and brilliant force 
 of cavalry, and a train of artillery of proportional extent and 
 excellence. 
 
 Napoleon, however, made sundry attempts to open a nego- 
 tiation with the allies — nor wanted there statesmen, in Eng- 
 land, to lend their best support to his reclamations. He 
 urged three arguments in defence of his breach of the con- 
 vention by which he had become sovereign of Elba: 1st, 
 the detention of his wife and son by the court of Austria — 
 an affair with which the king whose dominions he had invad- 
 ed could have had nothing to do: 2d, the nonpayment of his 
 pension — a grievance which might have furnished a legitimate 
 ground of complaining to the powers that guaranteed its 
 punctual discharge, and which, if so complained of at the 
 congress of Vienna, there is no reason to doubt would have 
 been redressed: and 3dly, the voice of the French nation, 
 which he, according to his own statement, had but heard and 
 obeyed. 
 
 Having discovered that there was no chance — if indeed he 
 had ever contemplated one — of persuading the Emperor of 
 Austria to restore his wife and son to him, Napoleon, ere he 
 had been many days at the Tuilleries, set on foot a scheme 
 for carrying them off from Vienna, by a mixture of strata- 
 gem and force. There were French people in the suite of 
 Maria Louisa who easily embarked in this plot, and forged 
 
Chap, xxv.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 339 
 
 passports, relays of horses, and all other appliances had been 
 so well provided, that but for a single individual, who betrayed 
 the design, there seems to have been a considerable proba- 
 bility of its success. On discovering this affair, the Emperor 
 of Austria dismissed the French attendants of his daughter, 
 and caused her to discontinue the use of the arms and liver- 
 ies of Napoleon, which she had hitherto retained — nay, even 
 the imperial title itself, resuming those of her own family, 
 and original rank as archduchess. This procedure could not 
 be concealed at Paris, and completed the conviction of all 
 men, that there was no hope of avoiding another European 
 war; and almost at the same time a rash expedition of Murat, 
 which, if successful, might have materially influenced the 
 conduct of Austria, reached its end. 
 
 Among the subjects which, prior to Buonaparte's re-ap- 
 pearance, occupied the congress of Vienna, one of the chief 
 was the conduct of Murat during the campaign of 1314. — 
 Talleyrand charged him with having, throughout, been a trai- 
 tor to the cause of the allies; and exhibited a series of inter- 
 cepted letters, from him to Napoleon, in proof of this allega- 
 tion. The Duke of Wellington on the other hand, considered 
 these documents as proving no more than that Murat had 
 reluctantly lifted his banner against the author of his fortunes. 
 The affair was still under discussion, to the mortal annoyance 
 of the person whose interests were at stake, when Napoleon 
 landed at Cannes. Murat resolved to rival his brother's dar- 
 ing; and, without further pause, marched, at the head of 
 50,000 men, to Rome, from which the Pope and cardinals fled 
 precipitately at his approach. The Neapolitans then advan- 
 ced into the north of Italy, scattering proclamations by which 
 Joachim invited all true Italians to rally round him, and assist 
 in the erection of their country into one free and independent 
 state, with him at its head. The Austrian commander in 
 Lombardy forthwith put his troops in motion to meet Murat. 
 The rencontre took place in Occhio-bello. The Neapolitans 
 fled in confusion almost at the sight of the enemy; and Mu- 
 rat, unable to rally them, sought personal safety in a fishing 
 vessel, which landed him near Toulon, about the end of May. 
 Napoleon was in vain entreated to receive him at Paris. He 
 refused, asking, with bitter scorn, if the war between France 
 and Naples, which subsisted in 1814, had ever been terminat- 
 ed by treaty? Murat lingered for some time in obscurity 
 near Toulon; and, relanding on the coast of Naples after the 
 king of the two Sicilies had been re-established on that 
 
340 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxv 
 
 throne, in the vain hope of exciting an insurrection and re- 
 covering what he had lost, was seized, tried and executed. — 
 This high spirited man, met his fate with heroic fortitude; and 
 Napoleon, at St. Helena, often said that the fortune of the 
 world might have been changed, had there been a Murat to 
 hdkd the French cavalry at Waterloo. 
 
 The result of this rash expedition enabled Austria to con- 
 centrate all her Italian forces also for the meditated reinvasion 
 of France. The Spanish army began to muster towards the 
 passes of the Pyrenees; the Russians, Swedes and Danes 
 were already advancing from the north: the main armies of 
 Austria, Bavaria and the Rhenish princes were rapidly con- 
 solidating themselves along the upper Rhine. Blucher was 
 once more in command of the Prussians, in the Netherlands; 
 and Wellington, commanding in chief the British, Hano- 
 verians and Belgians, had also established his head-quarters 
 at Brussels by the end of May. Every hour the clouds were 
 thickening apace, and it became evident, that, if Napoleon 
 remained much longer in Paris, the war would burst simultane- 
 ously on every frontier of his empire. He had no intention 
 to abide at home the onset of his enemies; but the situation 
 of civil affairs was such as to embarass him, in the prospect 
 of departure, with difficulties which, in former days, were not 
 used to perplex the opening of his campaigns. Hard indeed 
 was his task from the beginning — to conciliate to himself 
 heartily the political faction who detested, and had assisted in 
 overthrowing, the government of the Bourbons, and this 
 without chilling the attachment of the military, who despised 
 these coadjutors, both as theorists and as civilians. With 
 the views of these spirits, eager for blood and plunder, and 
 scornful of all liberty but the license of the camp, Napoleon 
 was engaged in the endeavor to reconcile the principles and 
 prejudices of men who had assisted in rebuilding his throne, 
 only because they put faith in the assertions of himself and 
 his friends, that he had thoroughly repented of the despotic 
 system on which he had formerly rulled France — that ten 
 months of exile and reflection had convinced him how much 
 better it was to be the first citizen of a free state, than the 
 undisputed tyrant of half the world — in a word, that his only 
 remaining ambition was to atone for the violence of his first 
 reign by the mildness of his second. 
 
Chap. xxvi.J CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 341 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 Napoleon heads his army on the Belgian frontiers. Passes the Sambre 
 at Charleroi. Defeats Blucher at Ligny. Battle of Quatrebras.— 
 The English retreat on Waterloo. Positions of the two armies. De- 
 tailed account of the Great Battle of Waterloo, fought on the 
 18th of June, 1815. 
 
 Napoleon had now, among other preparations, strongly for- 
 tified Pans and all the positions in advance of it on the Seine 
 the Marne and the Aube, and among the passes of the Vosge- 
 sian hills. Lyons had been guarded by very formidable out- 
 works. Massena, at Metz,and Suchet, on the Swiss frontier 
 commanded divisions which the Emperor judged sufficient to 
 restrain Schwartzenberg for some time on the upper Rhine* 
 should he drive them in, the fortresses behind could hardly 
 fail to detain him much longer. Meantime, the Emperor him- 
 self had resolved to attack the most alert of his enemies the 
 Prussians and the English, beyond the Sambre— while' the 
 Austnans were thus held in check on the upper Rhine, and 
 ere the armies of the north G»uld debouche upon Manheim 
 to co-operate by their right with Wellington and Blucher, and 
 by their left with Schwartzenberg. Of the Belgian army 
 and even of the Belgian people, he believed himself to pos- 
 sess the secret good will, and that one victory would place 
 the allies in a hostile country. By some daring battle, and 
 some such splendid success, he yet hoped to shatter the con- 
 fidence of the European confederacy; nor — even had he en- 
 tertained little hope of this kind— was the situation of affairs 
 in Paris such as to recommend another protracted defensive 
 warfare within France. The fatal example of 1814 was too 
 near: it behoved Napoleon to recommence operations in the 
 style which had characterized his happier campaigns. 
 
 He left Paris on the evening of the 11th of June, exclaim- 
 ing, as he entered his carriage, " I go to measure myself 
 against Wellington." He arrived at Vervins on the 12th, 
 and assembled and reviewed at Beaumont, on the 14th, the 
 whole of the army which had been prepared to act immedi- 
 ately under his own orders. They had been carefully select- 
 ed, and formed, perhaps, the most perfect force, though far 
 from the most numerous, with which he had ever taken the 
 field. Buonaparte saw before him 25,000 of his imperial 
 
342 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxvi. 
 
 guard, 25,000 cavalry in the highest condition, 300 pieces of 
 artillery admirably served, and infantry of the line, almost all 
 veterans, sufficient to swell his muster to at least 135,000 
 men. He reminded them that this was the anniversary of 
 Marengo and of Friedland, and asked, " Are they and we no 
 longer the same men? The madmen!" he continued, u a mo^ 
 ment of prosperity has blinded them. The oppression and 
 humiliation of the French people is beyond their power. If 
 they enter France, they will there find their tomb. Soldiers! 
 we have forced marches, battles and dangers before us. For 
 every Frenchman who has a heart, the moment is arrived to 
 conquer or to perish!" Such was his oration: and never 
 was an army more thoroughly imbued with the spirit of its 
 chief. 
 
 Blucher's army numbered at this time about 100,000 men, 
 and, extending along the line of the Sambre and the Meuse, 
 occupied Charleroi, Namur, Givet and Liege. They com- 
 municated on their right with the left of the Anglo-Belgian 
 army, under Wellington, whose head-quarters were at Brus- 
 sels. This army was not composed of troops of the same 
 nation. Wellington had 35,000 English, and of these but 
 few were veterans, (the flower of his peninsular army having 
 been despatched to America, ^vhere they were defeated at 
 New Orleans.) The King's German legion, 8000 strong, 
 was, however, equal to the best British force of like amount; 
 and there were 5000 Brunswickers, headed by their gallant 
 duke, and worthy of his guidance. The Hanoverians, ex- 
 clusive of the legion, numbered 15,000; of Nassau troops, 
 Dutch and Belgian, commanded by the prince of Orange, 
 son to the sovereign of the Netherlands, there might be 
 17,000; but the spirit of the Belgian part of this army was, 
 not without reason, suspected on all sides. The duke of 
 Wellington's host amounted, then, in all, to 76,000 men. — 
 His first division occupied Enghien, Brain-le-Comte, and 
 Nivelles, communicating with the Prussian right at Charleroi. 
 The second division (Lord Hill's) was cantoned in Halle, 
 Oudenard and Grajnont — -where was most of the cavalry. — 
 The reserve (Sir Thomas Picton's) were at Brussels and 
 Ghent. The English and Prussian commanders had thus 
 arranged their troops, with the view of being able to support 
 each other, wherever the French might hazard their assault. 
 It could not be doubted that Napoleon's mark was Brussels; 
 but by which of the three great routes, of Namur, of Charl- 
 eroi or of Mons, he designed to force his passage, could not 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 343 
 
 be ascertained beforehand. Fouche, indeed, doubly and 
 trebly dyed in treason, had, when accepting office under Na- 
 poleon, continued to maintain his correspondence with Louis 
 at Ghent, and promised to furnish the allies with the outlines 
 of the Emperor's plan of the campaign ere it began. But 
 the minister of police took care that this document should 
 not arrive until the campaign was decided. 
 
 On the morning of the 15th, the French drove in all the 
 outposts on the west bank of the Sambre, and at length as- 
 saulted Charleroi; thus revealing the purpose of the Emper- 
 or; namely, to crush Blucher ere he could concentrate all his 
 own strength, far less be supported by the advance of Wel- 
 lington. Ziethen, however, held out, though with severe loss, 
 at Charleroi so long, that the alarm spread along the whole 
 Prussian line; and then fell back in good order on a position 
 between Ligny and Amand; where Blucher now awaited 
 Napoleon's atfack, at the head of the whole of his army ex- 
 cept the division of Bulow, which had not yet come up from 
 Liege. The scheme of beating the Prussian divisions in de- 
 tail, had therefore failed; but the second part of the plan, 
 namely, that of separating them wholly from Wellington, 
 might still succeed. And with this view, while Blucher was 
 concentrating his force about Ligny, the French held on the 
 iiain road to Brussels from Charleroi, and beating in some 
 Nassau troops at Frasnes, followed them as far as Quatre- 
 bras; and finally took possession of that farm-house, so called 
 because it is there that the roads from Charleroi to Brussels, 
 and from Nivelles to Namur, cross each other. 
 
 The English general at Brussels remained wholly ignorant 
 of Buonaparte's advance until six in the evening of the 15th; 
 and even then the intelligence was so indistinct and uncertain 
 that the duke of Brunswick, and many of the upper officers 
 of the army, attended a ball given by the dutchess of Rich- 
 mond. Amid these festivities the roar of distant cannonade 
 at length reached the ear of Wellington, and at midnight the 
 bugle sounded and the drum beat in Brussels. In less than 
 an hour the troops of Picton (who himself arrived that same 
 night from England) were on their march to Quatrebras. — 
 At dawn on the 16th, the prince of Orange recovered that 
 post and the Nivelles road, thus re-establishing Blucher's 
 communication with Brussels. The other divisions of the 
 Anglo-Belgian army were all moving on Quatrebras. The 
 duke of Wellington himself was there very early in the 
 morning, and immediately rode across the country to Bry, 
 
344 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. Chap, xxvi 
 
 where, in a conference with Blucher, the subsequent move- 
 ments of the allies, whatever might be the events of this 
 day, were finally determined. 
 
 Napoleon, on coming up from Charleroi, about noon on the 
 16th, hesitated for a time whether Blucher at Ligny, or Wel- 
 lington at Quatrebras, ought to form the main object of his 
 ^attack. The Anglo-Belgian army was not yet concentrated; 
 the Prussian, with the exception of one division, was; and 
 he at length resolved to give his own personal attention to the 
 latter. With the main strength of his army, therefore he as- 
 saulted Blucher at three in the afternoon; and about the same 
 time Ney, with 45,000 men, commenced seriously (for there 
 had been skirmishes ever since daybreak) the subordinate at- 
 tack on the position of Wellington. The English general 
 accepted the battle. The French were posted among grow- 
 ing corn, as high as the tallest man's shoulders, which, with 
 an inequality of ground, enabled them to draw up a strong 
 body of cuirassiers close to the English, and yet entirely 
 out of their view. The 79th and 42d regiments were thus ta- 
 ken by surprise, and the former would have been destroyed 
 but for the coming up of the latter. The 42d formed into a 
 square, was repeatedly broken, and as often recovered, though 
 with terrible loss of life: for out of 800 that went into the 
 action, only ninety-six privates and four officers returned un- 
 hurt. The divisions of Alten, Halket, Cooke, Maitland and 
 Byng successively arrived; and night found the English gen- 
 eral, after a severe and bloody day, in possession of Quatre- 
 bras. The gallant duke of Brunswick, fighting in the front 
 of the line, fell almost in the beginning of the battle. The 
 killed and wounded on the side of the allies were 5000, 
 and the French loss could not have been less. 
 
 Blucher fought as stern a battle, but with worse fortune. — 
 With 80,000 men he had to sustain the assault of 90,000, 
 headed by Napoleon; and the villages of Amand and Ligny 
 were many times taken and retaken in the course of the day. 
 It is said, that two of the French corps hoisted the black flag: 
 it is certain that little quarter was either asked or given. — 
 The hatred of the French and Prussians was inflamed to the 
 same mortal vehemence. It is said that the loss on Blucher's 
 side was 20,000 men, and on the other 15,000 — numbers, 
 when we consider the amount of the troops engaged, all but 
 unparalleled. However, the non-arrival of Bulow, and the 
 successive charges of fresh divisions of the enemy, at length 
 forced Blucher to retire. In the course of the day the brave 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 345 
 
 old man had his horse shot under him, in heading a charge of 
 cavalry, and was ridden over, undetected, by both his own 
 men and the French. He now retreated on the river Dyle, 
 in the direction of Wavre; but contrived to mask his move- 
 ments so skilfully, that Napoleon knew not until noon on the 
 17th what way he had taken. 
 
 Napoleon, having ascertained the retreat of the Prussian, 
 now committed the pursuit of him to Marshal Grouchy, and a 
 corps of 32,000 men — and turned in person to Quatrebras, in 
 the hope of pouring his main force, as well asNey's, on Wel- 
 lington, in a situation where it was altogether improbable he 
 should receive any assistance from Blucher. But no sooner 
 was the duke aware of Blucher's march on Wavre, than he 
 gave orders for falling back from Quatrebras. He had ere 
 now been heard to say, that if ever it were his business to 
 defend Brussels, he would choose to give battle on the 
 field of Waterloo, in advance of the forest of Soignies; and 
 he now retired thither — in the confidence of being joined 
 there in the morning, ere the decisive contest should begin, 
 by Blucher. The day was rainy, the roads were covered deep 
 with mud, and the English soldiery were discouraged by the 
 command to retreat. Their spirits, however, rose gallantly, 
 when, on reaching the destined field, they became aware of 
 their leader's purpose; and having taken up their allotted 
 stations, they bivouacked under the storm in the sure hope of 
 battle. 
 
 All his arrangements having been effected early in the 
 evening of the 17th, the duke of Wellington sent to Blucher. 
 informing him that he had thus far effected the plan agreed on 
 at Bry, and would expect two divisions of Prussians to sup- 
 port him on the morrow. The veteran replied that he would 
 leave a single corps to hold Grouchy at bay as well as they 
 could, and march himself with the rest of his army up on Wa- 
 terloo. The cross roads between Wavre and Mont St. Jean 
 were in a horrid condition; the rain fell in torrents, and 
 Grouchy had 32,000 men to attack Thielman's single division, 
 left at Wavre. Blucher's march, however, began; and if it 
 occupied longer time than had been anticipated, the fault was 
 none of his. 
 
 The position of* the duke of Wellington was before the 
 village of Mont St. Jean, about a mile and a half in advance 
 of the small town of Waterloo, on a rising ground, having a 
 gentle and regular declivity before it — beyond this a plain of 
 about a mile in breadth — and then the opposite heights of La 
 
 15* 
 
346 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxvi.« 
 
 Belle Alliance, on which the enemy would of course form 
 their line The duke had now With him about 75,000 men in 
 all; of whom about 30,000 were English. He formed his 
 first line of the troops on which he could most surely rely — 
 the greater part of the British foot— the men of Brunswick 
 and Nassau, ana* three corps of Hanoverians and Belgians. 
 Behind this, the ground sinks, and then rises again. The 
 second line, formed in rear of the first, was composed of the 
 troops whose spirit and discipline were more doubtful— or who 
 had suffered most in the action of Quatrebras; and behind 
 them all, lay the horse. The position crosses the two high- 
 ways from Nivelles and Charleroi to Brussels, nearly where 
 they unite: these roads gave every facility for movements 
 from front to rear during the action; and two country roads, 
 running behind and parallel with the first and second lines, 
 favored equally, movements from wing to wing. The line 
 was formed convex, dropping back towards the forest at eith- 
 er extremity, the right to Marke Braine, near Braine-la- 
 Leude; the left to Ter-la-Haye. The chateau and gardens 
 of Hougomont, and the farm-house and enclosures, of La 
 Haye Sainte, about 1500 yards apart on the slope of the de- 
 clivity, were strongly occupied, and formed the important out- 
 works of defence. The opening of the country road leading 
 directly from Wavre to Mont St. Jean through the wood of 
 Ohain, was guarded by the British left; while those running 
 through Souhain and Frichemont, further in advance, might 
 be expected to bring the first of the Prussians on the right 
 flank of the French during their expected attack. 
 
 Tne field was open and fair: and in case the enemy should 
 force the duke from his position, the village of Mont. St. 
 Jean behind, still farther back the town of Waterloo, and 
 lastly the great forest of Soignies, offered successively the 
 means of renewing his defence, and protecting his retreat.— 
 The British front extended in all, over about a mile. It was 
 Wellington's business to hold the enemy at bay, until the 
 Prussian advance should enable him to charge them with su- 
 perior numbers: it was Napoleon's to beat the English ere 
 Blucher could disengage himself from Grouchy, and come 
 out of the woods of Ohain; which being accomplished, he 
 doubted not to have easy work with the Prussians amid that 
 difficult country. He had in the field 75,000 men; all 
 French veterans — each of whom was, in his own estimation, 
 worth one Englishman and two Prussians, Dutch or Belgians. 
 But, on the other hand, Wellington's men, all in position over 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 347 
 
 night, had had, notwithstanding the severe weather, some 
 hours to repose and refresh themselves; whereas the army of 
 Napoleon had been on the march all through the hours of 
 tempestuous darkness, and the greater part of them reached 
 not the heights of La Belle Alliance until the morning of the 
 18th was considerably advanced. Napoleon himself, how- 
 ever, had feared nothing so much as that Wellington would 
 continue his retreat on Brussels and Antwerp — thus deferring 
 the great battle until the Russians should approach the valley 
 of the Rhine; and when, on reaching the eminence of La 
 Belle Alliance, he beheld the army drawn up on the opposite 
 side, his joy was great. a At last then," he exclaimed, " at 
 last then, I have these English in my grasp." 
 
 Napoleon had rushed on with all his accumulated force. 
 No new levies were at hand to repair his losses in case of 
 disaster: victory alone could procure him reinforcements, 
 and absolute defeat would be decisive of his fate. If suc- 
 cess should attend him, the enthusiasm of the French would 
 again be roused, thousands and ten thousands of additional 
 troops would flock to his standard, and he would be enabled 
 to protract the war through a lingering campaign. 
 
 The generals and the soldiers felt how much depended on 
 the event of the day, and fought with unexampled impetuosi- 
 ty. As the troops of the respective armies advanced to their 
 positions, Napoleon .ascended an observatory a little in the 
 rear, and on the highest ground adjacent to the scene of bat- 
 tle. From this spot he commanded the whole of both lines. 
 He expressed his admiration at the fine appearance of some 
 of the British troops. " How steadily," said he to his aid- 
 de-camp, " do these troops take their ground! How beauti- 
 fully do those cavalry form! Observe (pointing to the Scotch 
 Greys) those grey horse. Are they not noble troops? Yet 
 in half an hour I shull cut them to pieces.'' 
 
 After some skirmishing between the piquets, and about ten 
 o'clock, the French commenced the engagement, with a furi- 
 ous attack on the post at the wood and garden of the chateau of 
 Hougomont, which was occupied by General Byng's brigade 
 of guards. It was a point of particular importance to the 
 French to gain this post, as from its situation, it commanded a 
 considerable part of the British position. It was furiously 
 and incessantly assailed by large and reinforced bodies of the 
 French, and gallantly and successfully defended by the Brit- 
 ish. Napoleon himself directed the charge of the imperial 
 guards against it, but, though fighting under the immediate 
 
CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxvi. 
 
 eye of their leader, they were repulsed by the British guards. 
 Thirty pieces of English artillery played continually over 
 this wood, to assist its defence, while the enemy directed 
 against it their hottest fire. 
 
 Every tree in the wood of Hougomont was pierced with 
 balls, but it appears, from the reports of travellers, that the 
 strokes which were fatal to human life have scarcely injured 
 them; though their trunks are filled with holes, and their 
 branches broken and destroyed, their verdure is still the same. 
 Wild flowers are still blooming, and raspberries ripening be- 
 neath their shade; while huge black piles of human ashes, 
 dreadfully offensive in smell, are all that remain of the he- 
 roes who fell upon that fatal spot. Beside some graves at 
 the out-skirts of the wood, the little wild flower " Forget-me- 
 not" continues to bloom, and the gaudy red poppy springs 
 up around, as if in mockery of the dead. The chateau itself 
 was set on fire by shells, during the cannonade. In the gar- 
 den behind the house, the roses, orange-trees and geraniums 
 still flower in beauty, and the pear-tree and fig-tree bear their 
 fruit: presenting a melancholy contrast to the ruined house, 
 the mouldering piles and the surrounding scene of death and 
 desolation. Even when the heaps of dead were reduced to 
 ashes, the broken swords, shattered helmets, torn epaulets and 
 sabre scabbards bathed in blood, told too plainly the dreadful 
 strife that had taken place, and the mournful reflection could 
 not be suppressed, that the glory which Britain gained upon 
 this sanguinary field, was purchased by the blood of her no- 
 blest sons. 
 
 In the mean time, to cover his real design, and to prevent 
 the duke from sending reinforcements to Hougomont, the ac- 
 tion was briskly commenced throughout the whole of the line. 
 But when Buonaparte was convinced that he had failed in 
 accomplishing his first object, the fire of musketry and can- 
 non became more terrible and murderous. Columns of 
 French infantry and cavalry, preceded by a formidable artil- 
 lery, advanced from every point, ascended the eminence on 
 which the British were posted, and precipitated themselves 
 on their squares. In vain the French artillery mowed down 
 whole ranks of their opponents. The chasms were instantly 
 filled, and not one foot of ground was lost. " What brave 
 troops!" said Napoleon to his staff. " It is a pity to destroy 
 them; but I shall beat them at last." The British reserved 
 their fire until the enemy had approached within a few paces, 
 and then, with one well directed volley, levelled whole squad- 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 349 
 
 rons of the foe. Other troops succeeded, and the French 
 pressed on to closer and more destructive combat. The light 
 troops who were in advance of the British line were driven 
 in by the fury of this general charge, and the foreign caval- 
 ry, who ought to have supported them, gave way and fled on 
 all sides. The first forces who offered a steady resistance 
 were the black Brunswick infantry. They were drawn up in 
 squares, as most of the British forces were during this me- 
 morable action; each regiment forming a square by itself, not 
 quite solid, but nearly so, the men being drawn up sev- 
 eral files deep. The distance between these masses afforded 
 sufficient space to draw up the battalions in line when they 
 should be ordered to extend themselves, and the regiments 
 were posted with reference to each other, much like the alter- 
 nate squares upon a chess board. It was therefore impossi- 
 ble for a squadron of cavalry to push between two of these 
 squares without being at once assailed by a fire in front from 
 that which was in the rear, and another fire on both flanks 
 from those squares between which it had moved forward. 
 Often and often during the day was this murderous experi- 
 ment resorted to by the cavalry of Napoleon, and sometimes 
 with success. 
 
 Yet although this order of battle possesses every efficient 
 power of combination against cavalry, its exterior is far from 
 imposing. The men thus drawn up occupy the least possible 
 space of ground, and the Brunswick officers, when they saw 
 the furious onset of the French cavalry, with a noise and 
 clamour that seemed to agitate the firm earth over which 
 they galloped, and beheld the small and detached black mas- 
 ses which, separated from each other, stood individually ex- 
 posed to be overwhelmed by the torrent, they almost trembled 
 for the result. But when the Brunswick troops opened their 
 fire, with coolness, readiness and rapidity, the event seemed 
 no longer doubtful. The artillery, also, which was never in 
 higher order, or more distinguished for excellent practice, 
 made dreadful gaps in the squadrons of cavalry, and strewed 
 the ground with men and horses who were advancing to the 
 charge. These circumstances, however, were far from de- 
 pressing the courage of the French, who pressed on in defi- 
 ance of every obstacle, and of the continued and immense 
 slaughter which was made among their ranks. If the attack 
 of the cavalry was for a moment suspended, it was but to 
 give room for the operation of their artillery, which, within 
 one hundred and fifty yards, played upon the solid squares of 
 
350 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxvi 
 
 the British with most destructive effect. Yet, in such a fire, 
 and in full view of these clouds of cavalry, did these brave 
 troops close their files over the bodies of their dead and dy- 
 ing comrades, and resume with stern composure that close 
 array of battle which their discipline and experience had 
 taught them to regard as the surest means of defence. After 
 the most desperate efforts on the part of the French to push 
 back the British right wing,, and to establish themselves on 
 the JSTivelles road, and after a defence, on the other side, 
 which rendered these efforts totally unavailing, the battle on 
 this part of the field in some degree subsided, to rage, if pos- 
 sible, with greater fury towards the left and centre of the 
 British line. 
 
 The principal masses of the French were now directed on 
 the left of the British, at which were posted the divisions of 
 generals Picton and Kempt. The object of Napoleon in this 
 attack was to turn the left of the allies, and, by separating 
 them from the Prussians, to cut off the retreat of the duke 
 in that direction. 
 
 A strong body of French infantry advanced amidst the de- 
 structive fire of the British artillery, without discharging a 
 shot. They gained the heights, and pressed on, determined 
 to carry the position. Sir T. Picton did not await their at- 
 tack, but forming his division into a solid square advanced to 
 the charge. They were repulsed after firing a volley, which 
 proved fatal to one of the bravest commanders in the British 
 army. Sir T. Picton received a musket ball in his right tem- 
 ple, and falling, expired without a struggle. The. ball was 
 cut out with a razor, on the lower and opposite side of his 
 head, where it appeared just breaking through the skin. Af- 
 ter his lamented fall it was discovered that he had been 
 wounded in the hip on the 16th by a musket ball, a circum- 
 stance which he carefully concealed from every one but his 
 servant. The wound had assumed a serious aspect from the 
 want of surgical assistance, having been only bandaged by 
 himself and his servant, as well as circumstances would 
 admit. 
 
 Notwithstanding the partial repulse of the French, they 
 once more pressed on, and succeded in driving back the 
 Scotch division in the greatest disorder, after every resistance 
 had been made which the bravery of the Highland regiments 
 could effect. But the brigade of heavy cavalry coming up, 
 supported by the 12th light dragoons, the French masses 
 were again compelled to retire. 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 351 
 
 A column of 2000 French bore down on the position which 
 was occupied by the 92d regiment, who immediately formed 
 themselves into Ijne, and charged on the centre of the ad- 
 vancing column, which they pierced, and the. Scotch Greys 
 dashed in at the opening. A column of French cavalry now 
 advanced with the cuirassiers at their head, to endeavor to 
 save their infantry. The Scotch Greys had been reinforced 
 by the brigade of heavy dragoons, and the most dreadful en- 
 gagement of cavalry which modern warfare has witnessed 
 now took place. The impenetrable cuirasses of the French 
 gave them a decided advantage over the English, but nothing 
 could resist the determined valor of the latter, and after a 
 long and sanguinary struggle, the cuirassiers retreated to the 
 rear of their infantry. The Scotch Greys took one of the 
 French eagles, and another was captured by Francis Stiles, a 
 corporal in the first royal dragoons. The manner in which 
 the first of these trophies was obtained is thus described by 
 the individual to whom it was surrendered. "It was in the 
 first charge I took the eagle from the enemy; he and I had 
 a hard struggle for it; he thrust for my groin — I parried it 
 off, and cut him through the head; after which I was attack- 
 ed by one of their lancers, who threw his lance at me, but 
 missed his mark, by my throwing it off with my sword by my 
 right side; then I cut him from the chin- upwards, which 
 went through his teeth; next I was attacked by a foot soldier, 
 who, after firing at me, charged me with his bayonet — but he 
 very soon lost the combat, for I parried it and cut him down 
 through the head; so that finished the contest for the eagle. 
 After which I presumed to follow my comrades, eagle and all, 
 but was stopped by the general, saying to me, ' You brave 
 fellow, take that to the rear: you have done enough until you 
 get quit of it;' which I was obliged to do, but with great reluc- 
 tance. I retired to a height, and stood there for upwards of 
 an hour, which gave a general view of the field, but I can- 
 aot express the horrors I beheld: the bodies of my b$ave 
 comrades were lying so thick upon the field that it was scarce- 
 ly possible to pass, and horses innumerable. I took the eagle 
 into Brussels amidst the acclamations of thousands of the 
 spectators that saw it." 
 
 At this period of the engagement Sir William Ponsonby 
 fell. He led his brigade against the Polish lancers, checked 
 at once their destructive charges against the British infantry, 
 and took 200 prisoners; but having pushed on at some dis- 
 tance from his troops, accompanied only by one aid-de-camp 
 
352 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON [Chap. xxvi. 
 
 he entered a newly ploughed field, where the ground was ex- 
 cessively soft. His horse stuck in the mire, and was utterly 
 incapable of extricating itself. At this instant a body of lan- 
 cers approached him at full speed. Sir William saw that his 
 fate was inevitable. He took out a picture and his watch, 
 and was in the act of giving them to be delivered to his wife 
 and family, when the lancers came up. The general and 
 horse were both killed upon the spot. His body was found, 
 lying beside his horse, pierced with seven lance wounds. 
 
 On the left of the centre the French obtained a temporary 
 Success. Some light troops of the German legion had been 
 stationed in the farm of La Haye Sainte; the French suc- 
 ceeded in occupying the communication between them and 
 the army, carried the farm-house, and put every man to the 
 bayonet. This success enabled them, about two o'clock, to 
 occupy a small mound on the left of the road, where the 
 hedge joins the road from Brussels to Charleroi, and just op- 
 posite the gate of the farm; a position from which they were 
 not dislodged until the grand advance of the British army at 
 seven in the evening. 
 
 The French troops sustained considerable losses, under the 
 difficulties of \ineven and hilly ground, deep ditches and 
 ravines, where they were checked by fresh columns concealed 
 till the moment of attack. Every inch of ground was dispu- 
 ted on both sides, and neither gave way till every means of 
 resistance was exhausted. The smallest hillock, the most 
 trivial embankment, was frequently taken and retaken sever- 
 al times. Repeated charges of cavalry took place, the field 
 of battle was heaped with dead, and the firing became more 
 and more violent. Both sides contended with equal fury, and 
 the defence was as obstinate as the attack was impetuous. 
 The English artillery made dreadful havoc in the ranks of 
 the French. They were so completely exposed, that the 
 Congreve rockets passed easily through all their lines, and 
 fell in the midst of their equipage, which was placed behind, 
 on the road and its environs. A number of shells burst 
 among them, and rendered it indispensible for the train to re 
 tire to a greater distance. This was not done without much 
 disorder, which the English clearly perceived. The French 
 artillery re-opened their fire with equal vivacity, but with less 
 effect, as the British were almost entirely masked by the ine- 
 qualities of the ground. The continued reverberation of 
 more than 600 pieces of artillery; the fire of the battalions 
 and light troops; the frequent explosion of caissoons, blown 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 353 
 
 up by shells, which reached them; the hissing of balls and 
 grape-shot; the clash of arms; the tumultuous roar of the 
 charges and the shouts of the soldiery, all created an impres- 
 sion which the pen is unequal to describe, and which occur- 
 red in a narrow space, the two armies being close to each 
 other, and their respective lines contracted into the shortest 
 possible extent. 
 
 Napoleon, elated by the advantage obtained at La Sainte 
 Haye, seized the opportunity with all his characteristic promp- 
 titude, and pressing on with immense masses of infantry and 
 cavalry, attacked the centre, which was now exposed. The 
 first battalions which he encountered, overwhelmed and crush- 
 ed by the enthusiastic valor and impetuosity of the French, 
 gave way. Had he at this time brought up all his reserves 
 of infantry, or waited until the British squares had been 
 thrown into confusion by the desperate charges of his foot 
 soldiers, it might have been impossible for the duke of Wel- 
 lington to restore the fortunes of the day. But he precipi- 
 tately followed up his advantage, amidst a deluge of balls and 
 grape-shot. A strong column approached Mount St. John, 
 whence a terrific fire was pouring. The French cavalry at 
 the same time rushed to carry the guns on the plains, but was 
 charged in its turn by the English horse, who issued from the 
 hollows, where they had lain in ambuscade, and the slaughter 
 became horrible. Neither side gave way one step; reinforce- 
 ments arrived to both parties; the charge was repeated. 
 Three times the French were on the point of forcing the po- 
 sitions, and three times they were driven back. A few bat- 
 talions of the English, who were slow or unskilful in their 
 movements, were in a moment cut to pieces; but wherever 
 the squares were formed the enemy could make no impres- 
 sion. In vain, with unexampled courage, the French cavalry 
 walked their horses round the British squares, and dashed at 
 the slightest opening: in vain, when they arrived within a 
 short distance, a few of them rushed on, and would have no- 
 bly sacrificed their lives by receiving the fire of their oppo- 
 nents, while their main body regularly proceeded to the 
 oha<rge. The cool intrepidity of the allied army baffled every 
 attempt to break them. The squadrons of French eavalry 
 which contrived to penetrate between the squares were repul- 
 sed with sanguinary fury, and the British cavalry now arrived 
 to share the conflict. Napoleon now advanced the whole 
 centre of his infantry to assist and disengage the cavalry. A 
 close column of French pressed onwards, overpowered every 
 
354 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxvi. 
 
 resistance, and marched to carry the village of Mont St. 
 Jean, in the rear of the British position. 
 
 The duke of Wellington felt the critical situation in which 
 he was placed, and displayed an heroism worthy of himself 
 and his country. Wherever his presence was most requisite 
 he was to be found. Exposed to the hottest fire, in the most 
 conspicuous positions, he stood reconnoitering with his glass, 
 watching the enemy's manoeuvres and issuing orders with the 
 most intrepid coolness, while balls and shells showered around 
 him, and his staff officers fell wounded and dying by his side. 
 Many of his escapes seemed almost miraculous. When any 
 of the squares appeared to waver, or were almost broken, he 
 threw himself into the midst of them, and the consciousness 
 of his presence rendered them firm as the adamantine rock, 
 against which the spray beats harmlessly. At length he suc- 
 ceeded in arresting the progress of the French, and snatch- 
 ing from them some advantages which they had obtained. 
 The advance of Napoleon to menace the rear was prevented; 
 the French were driven from the eminence they had carried; 
 the farm of La Haye Sainte was retaken; and the combatants 
 again occupied the ground which they had held at the com- 
 mencement of the attack, except that the French Continued 
 to possess the small mound on the left of the road from Brus- 
 sels to Charleroi, from which they could not be dislodged till 
 the grand advance of the British army at the close of the en- 
 gagement. 
 
 The attack on the chateau of Hougomont had recommenc- 
 ed, and continued during the day. Here, as in the centre, 
 the French cavalry boldly penetrated the squares, and for a 
 while appeared masters of the position, but on the arrival of 
 the British dragoons, a scene of destructive confusion ensu- 
 ed. The artillery of the two armies reciprocally discharged 
 an incessant torrent of round and grape-shot. The 30th regi- 
 ment sustained seyeral charges of the cuirassiers. Protected 
 by their iron breast-plates, they galloped up to the very bayo- 
 nets of the infantry. The horsemen had no sooner passed 
 than the regiment again deployed into line, that its fire might 
 be more extended and effectual. They had scarcely complet- 
 ed the evolution when the word was again given, " Re-form 
 square: prepare to receive cavalry." The cuirassiers re- 
 peatedly walked round this regiment, eagerly watching for an 
 opportunity of penetrating its front. 
 
 Unable to penetrate the 30th regiment, the cuirassiers 
 rushed on the 69th, who occupied a neighboring position, and 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 355 
 
 arrived in their front before the square was completely formed, 
 a circumstance which enabled them to commit dreadful slaugh- 
 ter. The first foot guards were for a moment almost cut off 
 from the rest of the army, and surrounded by the French 
 cavalry, who repeatedly charged on every square at once — 
 The loss was immense, but as the soldiers rapidly fell no 
 chasm was for a moment left. The files were closed, and 
 the square gradually diminished. At length the British caval- 
 ry came to their relief, and the few brave soldiers who were 
 left effected their escape. A similar resistance was made in 
 every point of the line; and the French, after incredible ex- 
 ertions, once more retired to their former positions. After a 
 short and solemn interval they returned to the attack, on the 
 whole line of the allies, but chiefly on the centre. Three 
 hundred pieces of artillery played on every part of the Brit- 
 ish position. The slaughter was dreadful, notwithstanding 
 the state of the ground, which was soaked with rain, and pre- 
 vented the balls from rolling forwards after they had fallen. 
 The shells were frequently buried in the mud, and produced 
 no other effect than bespattering the men and horses. The 
 French continued their incessant attacks with a perseverance 
 worthy of their high reputation; and the line of checkered 
 squares hitherto opposed to them, was gradually, from the great 
 reduction of numbers, presenting a diminished and less formi- 
 dable appearance. One general officer was under the neces- 
 sity of stating that his brigade was reduced to one third of 
 its original strength, that those who remained were exhausted 
 with fatigue, and that a temporary relief, however short its 
 duration, was requisite to the existence of his troops. " Tell 
 him," said Wellington, "what he proposes is impossible. — 
 He, I, and every Englishman in the field must die on the 
 spot which we now occupy." " It is enough," replied the 
 general, " I and every man under my command, are determ- 
 ined to share his fate." 
 
 .Napoleon was astonished by the obstinate resistance of the 
 British. He incessantly took snuff in large quantities from 
 his waistcoat pocket, violently snuffing up half, and throwing 
 the rest from him with a strong extension of the arm. — 
 "These English are devils," said he, " will they never be 
 beaten?" The frequency and impetuousness of his attacks 
 were now redoubled, and he began to expose himself to the 
 thickest of the fire. He evinced much personal courage, 
 and was always collected, and in full possession of the inex- 
 haustible resources of his genius. Seeing the guide fre- 
 
356 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON.' [Chap.xxvi, 
 
 quently flinch at the shower of shot that fell around them, he 
 said "Do not stir, my friend; a ball will kill you equally in 
 the back as the front, and wound you more disgracefully." 
 
 A brigade of horse-artillery, commanded by Major Ram- 
 say, opened its fire on the French columns. They retreated 
 repeatedly, but it was only to advance with new fury, and to 
 renew attempts which it seemed impossible for human strength 
 and courage ultimately to withstand. As frequently as the 
 cavalry retreated, the artillerymen, rushing out of the squares 
 in which they had found shelter, began again to work their 
 pieces, and made a destructive fire on the retiring squadrons. 
 Two officers of artillery were particularly noticed, who being 
 stationed in a square which was repeatedly charged, rushed 
 out of it the instant the cavalry retreated, loaded one of the 
 deserted guns which stood near, and fired it upon the horse- 
 men. A French officer observed that this manoeuvre was 
 repeated more than once, and cost his troop many lives. At 
 the next retreat of his squadron he stationed himself by the 
 gun, waving his sword, as if defying the British officers to 
 approach it. He was instantly shot by a grenadier, but pre- 
 vented, by his self-devotion, a considerable loss to his coun- 
 trymen. Other French officers and men evinced the same 
 devoted zeal. One officer of rank, after leading his men as 
 far as they would follow him, towards one of the squares of 
 infantry, fo-und himself deserted by them when the British 
 fire opened, and instantly rode upon the bayonets, throwing 
 open his arms, as if to welcome the bullet which should bring 
 him down. He was immediately shot, for the moment admit- 
 ted of no alternative. 
 
 Notwithstanding their well supported and undaunted de- 
 fence, the situation of the British army became critical. The 
 duke of Wellington had placed his best troops in the first line; 
 they had already suffered severely, and the quality of those 
 who were brought up to support them was in some instances 
 found unequal to the task. He himself saw a Belgian regi- 
 ment give way at the instant it crossed the ridge of the hill, 
 in the act of advancing from the second into the first line. — 
 The duke rode up to them, halted the regiment, and again 
 formed it, intending in person to lead them into the fire. — 
 They accordingly shouted " En avant, en avant," and march- 
 ed up, arranging their ranks with great accuracy, and holding 
 up their heads with military precision. But as soon as they 
 crossed the ridge of the hill, and again encountered the 
 storm of balls and shells, from which they had formerly re- 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 357 
 
 treated, they went to the right-about once more, and fairly 
 left the duke to seek for more courageous followers where he 
 could find them. He accordingly brought up a Brunswick 
 regiment, which advanced with less apparent enthusiasm than 
 the Belgians, but kept their ground with more steadiness, and 
 behaved with intrepidity. In another part of the field, the 
 Hanoverian hussars of Cumberland, a corps distinguished for 
 their handsome appearance and complete equipments, were 
 ordered to support a charge made by the British. Their com- 
 manding officer shewed no alacrity to obey this order, and 
 observed so much ceremony, that, after being twice ordered 
 to advance, an aid-de-camp of the duke of Wellington in- 
 formed him of his grace's command, that he should either 
 advance or draw off his men entirely, and not remain there to 
 shew a bad example, and discourage others. The * gallant* 
 officer was not long in making his choice, and having serious- 
 ly expressed to the aid-de-camp his sense of the duke's kind- 
 ness, and his gracious consideration for the safety of his raw 
 troops, under so dangerous a fire, declared that he would em- 
 brace the alternative of drawing his men off, and posting 
 them behind the hamlet of St. John. This he accordingly 
 did, in spite of the reproaches of the aid-de-camp, who load- 
 ed him with every epithet that is most disgraceful to a soldier. 
 Many of the officers and soldiers of this unlucky regiment 
 left it in shame, joined themselves to other bodies of cavalry, 
 and behaved well in the action. But the valiant commander 
 fled to Brussels, and alarmed the town with a report that the 
 French were at his heels. His regiment was partly disband- 
 ed, and many of its members attached to the service of the 
 commissariat. 
 
 While the conflict was raging, Blucher was pressing for- 
 ward to the assistance of his allies. So early as between 
 three and four o'clock the division of Bulow appeared menac- 
 ing the right flank of the French, chiefly with light troops 
 and cavalry. But this movement was foreseen, and provided 
 against by Buonaparte. Besides the immense force with 
 which he sustained the main conflict, he had kept in reserve 
 a large body of troops under count Lobau, who were opposed 
 to those of Bulow, with a promptitude which appeared like 
 magic: the British officers being almost at a loss to conjec- 
 ture whence the forces came, which appeared as it were to 
 rise out of the earth, to oppose this new adversary. The en- 
 gagement, which consisted chiefly in sharp-shooting, continu- 
 ed in this quarter, but with no great energy, as the Prussian 
 
358 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [^hap. xxvi. 
 
 general waited the coming up of the main body of Blucher's 
 army. 
 
 Meantime Blucher pressed the march of his forces through 
 the defiles which separated him from the British. Notwith- 
 standing the consequences of his fall upon the 16th, he in- 
 sisted on leaving his. carriage, and being placed on horseback, 
 that he might expedite the march by precept and example. — 
 The sun was near setting before his forces appeared in 
 strength, issuing from the woods on the left flank of the En- 
 glish army. Though it was now obvious that the army of 
 the prince-marshal was appearing on the field, Napoleon was 
 deluded to the last by a belief that they were followed by 
 Grouchy, and either retreating or moving laterally in the 
 same line with him. In this misconception he persisted, until 
 the consequences proved fatal to the very last chance which 
 he had of covering his own retreat 
 
 Notwithstanding the perseverance with which Buonaparte 
 had renewed his attacks on the English position, and the vast 
 number of his best cavalry and infantry who fell in the strug- 
 gle, he had still in reserve near 15,000 men of his own guard, 
 who, remaining on the ridge of La Belle Alliance, or behind 
 it, had scarcely drawn a trigger during the action. But, 
 about seven o'clock at night, their Emperor determined to de- 
 vote this proved and faithful reserve, as his last stake, to one 
 of those desperate games in which he had been frequently 
 successful. His previous conduct had displayed the utmost 
 resolution, wisdom and intrepidity. He was in full view of 
 the field when the battle began, and remained upon it till no 
 choice was left him but that of death or rapid flight. His 
 first post was a high wooden observatory, which had been 
 constructed when a trigonometrical survey of the country was 
 made, by order of the king of the Netherlands, some weeks 
 before. But* he afterwards removed to the high ground in 
 front of La Belle Alliance, and finally to the foot of the slope, 
 upon the road to Brussels. He was, throughout the action, 
 attended by his staff, and squadrons of service, destined to 
 protect his safety. Soult, Ney and other officers of distinc- 
 tion, commanded under him, but he issued all orders, and re- 
 ceived all reports in person. 
 
 At the present moment he left the more distant point of 
 observation, which he had for some time occupied on the 
 heights in the rear, and descending from the hill, placed him- 
 self in the rear of the line fronting Mount St. John, and with- 
 m a quarter of a mile of the English line. Here he caused 
 
Chap, xxvi.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 359 
 
 his guards to defile before him, and acquainted them that to 
 carry the British position they had only to sustain with bra- 
 very a heavy fire of their artillery. He concluded by point- 
 ing to the causeway and exclaiming, " This, gentlemen, is the 
 road to Brussels." They answered with a shout of enthusi- 
 asm, and the cry of " The Emperor for ever!" was distinctly 
 heard as far as the British lines. 
 
 They marched on with a firm and steady step, and in dead 
 silence. The fa*te of the battle; the fate of Europe depend- 
 ed upon them. The fire of the allies abated; and with inde- 
 scribable feelings of anxiety, awe and admiration, they con- 
 templated the approach of the chosen troops of France, the 
 battalions who were the terror of Europe, and who had never 
 
 yet been vanquished. But the pause was only momentary. 
 
 Every cannon seemed to open at once on the foe, and swept 
 whole ranks away. As the front ranks fell, others in an in- 
 stant rushed forward to fill up the chasms, and with stern and 
 unbroken front, the imperial guard continued to advance. 
 
 Some Brunswickers first attempted to oppose them; but af- 
 ter an ineffectual resistance, they were defeated with immense 
 slaughter. The French penetrated within the lines. It 
 seemed impossible for the duke to rally a sufficient force to 
 arrest their progress. They carried every thing before them, 
 and once more in this strange and eventful battle, the victory 
 was Napoleon's. 
 
 In a hollow of the ground, immediately in front of the 
 French, and protected from the fire of their artillery, lay a 
 regiment of the British guards. The duke of Wellington 
 was close behind them. He had placed himself on a ridge, 
 and declared that he would not move from it. 
 
 The imperial guard still advanced. They approached with- 
 in a hundred yards, when the duke suddenly exclaimed, '* Up 
 guards and at them." The unexpected apparition of this 
 body of men, startled the French battalions, and they sudden- 
 ly paused; but immediately recovering themselves, they ad- 
 vanced more rapidly. At a given signal, their artillery filed 
 off to the right and the left. They approached within twenty 
 yards of their opponents, and were in the act of dashing up- 
 on them with the bayonet; when a volley was poured upon 
 them by the British, which staggered them, and literally 
 knocked them back with its shock. A second volley threw 
 them into greater confusion, and ere they- had time to deploy 
 or to manoeuvre, the British cheered and rushed furiously up- 
 on them. They waited not the attack, but retreated in dis- 
 
$60 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxvi. 
 
 order. The British were eagerly pursuing when a regiment 
 of sharp-shooters, which had accompanied and protected the 
 advancing column, attacked them, and did considerable exe- 
 cution; but the British rallied, and charged on their new an- 
 tagonists. They likewise refused to receive the shock and 
 followed the route of their companions. Again the French 
 rallied, and opened a galling and destructive fire on their 
 pursuers. 
 
 Napoleon wished to lead them on to one effort more; but 
 Bertrand and Drouet threw themselves before him, and repre- 
 senting how much the safety of France and the army depend- 
 ed on his life, besought him to forbear. Napoleon suffered 
 himself to be persuaded, and retired from that part of the 
 field. 
 
 The main body of the Prussians had now arrived, and al- 
 though they were bravely opposed by the troops of General 
 Lobau, whom not even these new assailants could dishearten, 
 perceptibly gained ground. The decisive moment had arriv- 
 ed, and Wellington promptly availed himself of it. He or- 
 dered the whole line, supported by the artillery and cavalry, 
 to charge. His troops replied with one universal shout, and 
 hastened to the attack. Nothing could resist their impetuosi- 
 ty. The French fought with bravery and desperation; but 
 their first line was speedily broken through; the second afford- 
 ed little more resistance, and complete confusion and route 
 ensued. 
 
 Four squares of the old imperial guard yet remained. — 
 With these Napoleon endeavored to cover his retreat, which 
 was now inevitable; but they were embarrassed and borne 
 away by the crowd of fugitives, and unable to resist the over- 
 whelming force of English and Prussians which now pressed 
 upon them. They defended themselves with a gallantry 
 which excited the admiration of their foes. The duke of 
 Wellington would have prevented the useless sacrifice of 
 their lives, and summoned them to surrender; but, with a high 
 sense of military honor, they refused to yield, and slowly re- 
 treating, inch by inch, were almost entirely annihilated. 
 
 Near La Belle Alliance, a farm in the rear of Napoleon's 
 position, Wellington and Blucher accidentally met, and em- 
 braced each other with transport. Blucher proposed to con- 
 tinue the pursuit during the night with his troops, who were 
 comparatively fresh, and Wellington recalling his battalions, 
 who had been more than twelve hours under arms, and whom 
 fatigue and want of food had completely exhausted, drew 
 
Chap, xxvn.] CAMPAIGNS. OF NAPOLEON. 361 
 
 them 
 as th< 
 night. 
 
 them up on the hill, and giving the Prussians three sneers 
 as they passed, returned to the bivouack of the foregoing 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 Continuation of the History of the Campaign. Disastrous retreat of the 
 French from Waterloo. Slaughter at Genappe. French repass the 
 Sambre. Narrow escape of Napoleon. Appearance of the field of 
 Battle. Loss of the French — of the allies. 
 
 The tremendous scenes of the day were surpassed by the 
 horrors of the night. The sun had long gone down, but no 
 friendly darkness sheltered the fugitives, and an unclouded 
 moon, near her full, lighted the blood-thirsty destroyers to 
 their prey. The French fled in a confusion as extraordinary as 
 the lengthened and murderous contention of the day. Lancers 
 dragoons, infantry, artillery and cuirassiers; guns, waggons, 
 tumbrils and carriages of every description, formed one ming- 
 led and impenetrable mass. Some of the officers, with Mar- 
 shal Ney at their head, endeavored to rally the scattered troops 
 and form a rear-guard to check the furious pursuit of the con- 
 querors. For a moment they succeeded. Some battalions 
 of the guard obeyed the voice of their leaders, and endeav- 
 ored to protect the retreat of their army, but the first charge 
 of the Prussians broke and dispersed them. Again they ral- 
 lied, and again were overwhelmed. At length all the regi- 
 ments were completely dispersed, no attempt at further resist- 
 ance was made, and every one fled with the utmost precipita- 
 tion. The confusion increased every moment, and at the 
 distance of thirty miles from the field of battle it was impossi- 
 ble to rally a single squadron. 
 
 In several of the villages the officers repeatedly attempted 
 to rally the troops, and to maintain themselves under protec- 
 tion of the houses. But an inexplicable panic had seized on 
 every heart, and they whose bravery had, a few hours before, 
 excited the warmest admiration even of their enemies, were 
 now incapable of resistance. The drum or trumpet of the 
 Prussians was no sooner heard at a distance, than they for- 
 sook their ranks, abandoned their hasty defences and fled in 
 
 16 
 
S62 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxnr, 
 
 every direction, with all the rapidity which their fatigue and 
 exhaustion would permit. 
 
 It was at Genappe that the last stand was made. The 
 French here found some cannon which had been early with- 
 drawn from the field, or which had not reached the scene of 
 action. These were speedily placed in the most advantage- 
 ous position. Some waggons and carriages were overturned, 
 and the streets completely blockaded. Intrenched behind this 
 defence, they awaited with resolution the approach of the 
 enemy, and commenced a brisk fire of artillery and musketry. 
 The Prussians halted for an instant, and bringing up a few 
 light pieces, directed them on the French intrenchments. — 
 But after a few discharges, they were unable to restrain their 
 impetuosity, and rushed on to* carry the place by assault. — 
 The French abandoned their position, and once more betook 
 themselves to flight. The Prussians and Brunswickers gal- 
 loped through the streets, and massacred, without remorse, 
 every Frenchman who fell in their way. No resistance was 
 offered after this; yet the slaughter continued with unabated 
 fury. | 
 
 Those of the French who had early escaped from the field, 
 and who had been able to continue their flight without much 
 impediment, did not expect to be so closely pursued. Worn 
 out with fatigue, and fainting from want of food, they halted 
 at some of the villages to recruit their exhausted powers. — 
 But they had scarcely tasted their repast, when crowds of fu- 
 gitives precipitated themselves upon them, exclaiming that 
 the Prussians were coming. The blast of the trumpet too 
 soon confirmed the intelligence, and they were driven from 
 one bivouack to another until the victors were glutted with 
 slaughter, or they were unable longer to continue the pursuit 
 from fatigue. 
 
 At Charleroi, Napoleon himself attempted to arrest the 
 flight of the troops. He planted a company of grenadiers on 
 the bridge with fixed bayonets. But the immense crowd 
 which pressed on, continually urged to new efforts by the, 
 cries of u The Prussians, the Prussians!" reiterated in the 
 rear, overpowered all opposition. Th® grenadiers were total- 
 ly unable to stem the torrent, and it was not until they had 
 passed the Sambre that the French imagined themselves 
 safe. I 
 
 At break of day the feeble wreck of the French army be- 
 gan to arrive at Charleroi and Marchienne, where they eager- 
 ly pressed on to repass the Sambre. The most melancholy. 
 
Chap, xxvii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 363 
 
 part of the cavalcade was the long column of wounded, who 
 clung to each other, as if they sought consolation or protec- 
 tion in the contemplation of each other's misery. Some of 
 them crept slowly along on foot. Others were mounted on 
 horses which they had forcibly taken from the waggons that 
 had been abandoned on every step of the road. They were 
 pale, enfeebled, and covered with the bloody rags with which 
 they had hastily bound up their wounds. 
 
 As they approached the bridge the horrible scenes of 
 Genappe were renewed. The road taken, suddenly became 
 considerably narrower. It had previously been completely 
 filled with the strangely mingled column of the retreating ar- 
 my. But now when the space was contracted, all passage 
 was obstructed. Horsemen, infantry and carriages rushed 
 on, contending who should cross first. The stronger unfeel- 
 ingly thrust aside or trampled upon the weaker, and too often 
 drew their sabres, or their bayonets, on those who offered any 
 resistance. Many were crushed by the wheels of the wag- 
 gons or artillery, so that at length the heaps of dead bodies, 
 continually increasing, formed an almost insurmountable ob- 
 stacle. 
 
 At this dreadful moment the enemy appeared. The confu- 
 sion now redoubled. Some hastily cut the traces of their 
 horses, and springing upon them, abandoned their carriages, 
 and forced their way through the crowd. Others turned off 
 at the foot of the bridge and driving furiously along the banks 
 of the Sambre, sought for a passage, and at length madly 
 plunging in, were swept away by the torrent. Many hun- 
 dreds who had been congratulating themselves on their es- 
 cape perished here, at a distance of thirty miles from the 
 field of battle. 
 
 Part of the army, which had early retreated, hoping that 
 the pursuit would cease here, and that the Sambre would af- 
 ford them a secure defence, had bivouacked on the right side 
 of the river. The neighboring meadows were crowded with 
 groups of soldiers, hastily cooking that food, the long want of 
 which had deprived them of all remaining strength, or stretch- 
 ed on the grass, enjoying that repose which was even more 
 necessary than food. But when this scene of confusion com- 
 menced, and the shouts of the Prussians were heard, their 
 slumbe-s were immediately broken, their food was left untast- 
 ed, and once more they betook themselves to flight. 
 
 A little beyond Charleroi two roads presented themselves, 
 one of which conducted to Avesnes, and the other to Phil- 
 ippeville. No general was at hand to direct their route, and 
 
364 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON [Chap, xxvii. 
 
 the army divided, as inclination or charge determined. The 
 greater part pursued the road to Avesnes, while others turned 
 to the left, and fled towards Philippeville. Great numbers 
 abandoned the high road, and, as their only refuge from the 
 enemy's cavalry, threw themselves into the neighboring 
 woods. Thus the army became gradually dispersed, and at 
 length nearly disappeared. 
 
 While Blucher was employed in pursuing the flying enemy, 
 the duke of Wellington led his army over the field of battle. 
 The noise and confusion which so lately reigned were heard 
 no more, and all was hushed and still; save when the moans 
 of the wounded, or the agonizing shrieks of the dying, burst 
 upon the ear. The moon, riding in unveiled majesty, shed a 
 pale and mournful light on the horrors of the scene. They 
 retrod the field of death. They sought for their wounded 
 companions. They eagerly afforded them every assistance in 
 their power, and having nastily dressed their wounds, dis- 
 patched them to the hospitals of Antwerp and Brussels.— 
 In every part of the field the troops were seen diligently em- 
 ployed in constructing litters, and carefully conveying both 
 friends and foes to a place of refuge and comfort. This was 
 a spectacle which formed an affecting contrast with the mur- 
 derous occupation of the Brunswickers and Prussians. 
 
 At Genappe the carriage of Napoleon was recognised, and 
 the conquerors dashed at it, hoping to secure the most invalua- 
 ble of all prizes, the person of the Emperor. The coachman 
 was on the box, the postilion had mounted the leaders, and they 
 were making a desperate attempt to force their way through 
 the throng. The Prussian officer who headed the foremost 
 troop eagerly called to the coachman to stop, but the latter 
 only lashed his horses with the greater violence. The hus- 
 sars then cut down the postilion and killed the leaders, while 
 the sabre of the officer brought the coachman from his box 
 with a single stroke. He then violently tore open the door of 
 the carriage, and deemed the prize his own. As he opened 
 the door he saw the emperor escape from the opposite side, 
 and before he could hastily pass round the carriage, Napoleon 
 had mounted a horse, and was instantly lost in the throng. 
 
 Attended by a few faithful officers, Napoleon now galloped 
 towards Charleroi. As he passed he was frequently recog- 
 nised by the fugitives who crowded the road, and amidst the 
 noise of the carriages exclaimed, " There goes the Emperor! 
 the Emperor for ever!" A little before he arrived at Char- 
 eroi he halted, and a fire being kindled, partook of the first 
 refreshment he had tasted during fourteen hours. He then 
 
Chap, xxvii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 365 
 
 dismissed his guide, and pursued his course to Charleroi, 
 having been joined by eight confidential officers. At this 
 city he attempted to rally the fugitives, but in vain, and he 
 therefore hastened in the direction of Philippeville. 
 
 The conflict behind him was the most sanguinary and brutal 
 that history has recorded, and surpassed in its horrors even 
 the scenes of mid-day. The Prussians rode over the field, 
 dispatching by their weapons the wounded French, with the 
 most inveterate rancor, and many of the officers who have 
 since recovered from their wounds, sustained the most last- 
 ing inconvenience, and the greatest danger, from those in- 
 flicted by the enemy, when they were in no condition to offend 
 others, or defend themselves. The exclamation of, "What? 
 are you not dead?'' uttered by the horseman, was usually ac- 
 companied with a stroke of his sabre, which terminated the 
 existence of his unfortunate and languishing victim. 
 
 They made a dreadful and indiscriminate slaughter, scarce- 
 ly interrupted by the temptation of plundering the baggage, 
 with which the roads were choked, and unchecked by any at- 
 tempt at resistance. Those soldiers who had begun the morn- 
 ing with such bright and enthusiastic hopes, and whose con- 
 duct during the battle vindicated their self-confidence, were 
 now so entirely broken in heart and spirits that many of their 
 straggling bands fled at sight of a single Prussian hussar. 
 
 It is remarkable, that amidst the countless numbers who 
 fled, both of privates and officers, we do not notice many of 
 those names distinguished in the bulletins of Napoleon's for- 
 mer campaigns. Except Duhesme and Friant, we hear of 
 no generals among the French list of the slain. The latter 
 was killed by a ball as he was standing close to Ney, who 
 commanded the imperial guards in the last attack. Duhesme 
 was overtaken in the village of Genappe, by one of the duke 
 of Brunswick's black hussars, of whom he begged quarter. 
 The soldier regarded him sternly, with his sabre uplifted, and 
 then briefly saying, u The duke of Brunswick died yester- 
 day,'' bestowed on him his death wound. 
 
 The courage and impetuosity of the French had never 
 been exceeded. Charges more desperate had not been wit- 
 nessed in modern warfare. Napoleon had profoundly studied 
 the character of the French, and the system of warfare 
 which he had adopted was the best suited to their peculiar 
 energies. The French soldiers are most capable of active 
 courage. Their feelings must be highly excited, their pas- 
 sions must be called into full activity, and then they are near- 
 
366 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxvii. 
 
 ly invincible. Ardent, impetuous and enthusiastic, they 
 b ave every danger, and surmount every obstacle. On the 
 other hand, the tremendous and repeated charges of the 
 French were received with a valor that never faltered, and 
 though their ranks were thinned, and their squares diminish- 
 ed, they still presented a stern and unbroken front. Though 
 Britain has triumphed in it as the proudest, she has also 
 mourned it as the bloodiest of all her battles. Those who 
 witnessed the most sanguinary contests of the peninsular 
 war declared they had never seen so horrible a carnage; and 
 the Prussians pronounced even the battle of Leipsic not to 
 be compared to it. The dead could not be numbered; and by 
 those who visited this dreadful field of death, the day after 
 the battle ? the spectacle of horror that it exhibited can never 
 be forgotten. 
 
 The mangled and lifeless bodies were even then stripped 
 of every covering — every thing of the smallest value was al- 
 ready carried off. The road between Waterloo and Brussels, 
 which passes for nine miles through the thick shades of the 
 forest of Soigny, was choked up with scattered baggage, 
 broken waggons and dead horses. The heavy rains, and the 
 great passage upon it, rendered it almost impassable, so that it 
 was with extreme difficulty that the carriages containing the 
 wounded could be brought along. The way was lined with 
 unfortunate men who had crept from the field, and many, un- 
 able to go further, lay down and died: — holes dug by the 
 road side served as their graves, and the road, weeks after 
 the battle, was strewed with the tattered remains of their 
 clothes and accoutrements. In every village and hamlet — 
 on every road — in every part of the country, for thirty miles 
 round, wounded soldiers were found wandering; the wounded 
 Belgic and Dutch stragglers exerting themselves to the ut- 
 most to reach their own homes. So great were the numbers 
 of the wounded, that, notwithstanding the most active and 
 unremitting exertions, the last were not removed from the 
 field oi* battle into Brussels until the Thursday following. 
 
 The desolation which reigned on the scene of action can- 
 not easily be described. The fields of high standing corn 
 were trampled down, and so completely beaten into the earth, 
 that they had the appearance of stubble. The ground was 
 completely ploughed up in many places with the charge of 
 the cavalry, and the horses' hoofs, deep stamped into the 
 earth, left the traces where many.a deadly struggle had been. 
 The whole field was strewed with the melancholy vestiges of 
 
Chap, xxvii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 367 
 
 war and devastation — soldiers' caps, pierced with many a ball 
 and trodden under foot — eagles that had ornamented them — 
 badges of the legion of honor — cuirasses — fragments of brok- 
 en arms, belts and scabbards innumerable — shreds of tattered 
 cloth, shoes, cartridge boxes, gloves, highland bonnets, feath- 
 ers steeped in mud and gore — French novels, and German 
 testaments — scattered music belonging to the bands — packs 
 of cards, and innumerable papers of every description, that 
 had been thrown out of the pockets of the dead, by those 
 who had pillaged them. Love-letters, and letters from moth- 
 ers to their sons, and from children to their parents, were 
 scattered about in every direction. 
 
 Upon this field were performed deeds of valor as heroic as 
 any which swell the page of history. Of those who performed 
 them, many rest in the bed of honor, and those who survive 
 will never relate the story of their own achievements. Mod- 
 esty is ever the concomitant of true courage; and thus ac- 
 tions, which, could they have been witnessed, would have 
 been the theme of an applauding world, are now unknown 
 and unadmired. It is difficult to say who were bravest were 
 all were brave. 
 
 Thus ended the great and decisive battle of Waterloo, 
 which proved to Buonaparte and to France what the battle of 
 Zama did to Hannibal and Carthage, although not from the 
 same causes. France was not exhausted; she still had im- 
 mense resources, and might have recovered from this shock, 
 had ft not been for her internal divisions. This was the fif- 
 tieth pitched battle which had been fought by Buonaparte, 
 and perhaps in no one did he ever display more consummate 
 generalship or cool intrepidity; but in no one, certainly, was 
 he so unfortunate. That destiny in which he seemed to be- 
 lieve, and which so long smiled upon him, appeared to have 
 changed: he was no longer the favorite of fortune; the god- 
 dess seems to have abandoned him, at a time when her fa- 
 vors were most wanted. 
 
 The loss to both parties was immensely great. There had 
 fallen on the field of battle about 40,000 men, one half of 
 whom were French. Wellington had 100 officers slain (many 
 of the first distinction,) and 500 wounded; very many mortal- 
 ly. The Prussians did not arrive till near the close of the 
 day, but the opposition they experienced, though short, was 
 obstinate and bloody, and many were killed in the pursuit. — 
 The total loss of the allies during the four days, was 60,500 
 men — that of the French 41,000 including the retreat. 
 
368 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxviii 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. 
 
 Napoleon arrives at Paris. State of Franoe after the battle of Waterloo. 
 Wellington and Blucher cross the Frontiers. Agitation of the Cham- 
 bers. Napoleon abdicates in favor of his son. Departs for Roche- 
 fort and attempts to sail for America. Surrenders himself on board the 
 Bellerophon to the British Government. Arrives in England. Sails 
 for St. Helena. 
 
 Napoleon proceeded to Philippeville, for the purpose of 
 keeping open a communication with Marshal Grouchy, and 
 sending his orders to the Rhine. Here he remained four 
 hours, when he proceeded with the greatest possible expedi- 
 tion for Loan, and reached that place at four o'clock in the 
 afternoon on the twentieth. Here he had an interview with 
 the prefect, ordered his aid-de-camp, Count Bussy, to super- 
 intend the defence of the place, and gave various other or- 
 ders. He waited until he received dispatches from Jerome, 
 by which he learnt that he had rallied more than 25,000 men 
 in rear of Avesne, and fifty pieces of cannon, that the army 
 appeared to augment continually, that most of the general 
 officers had arrived, and that the loss was not so great as 
 might have been imagined. The Emperor ordered the 
 troops to rendezvous at Fere, and fixed upon Loan as the 
 general head-quarters, whither Marshal Soult was ordered to 
 repair. The prefect took every measure to fill the magazines 
 and supply provisions for an army of 80 or 90,000 men, which 
 were expected to concentrate around the town in a few days. 
 Prince Jerome, Marshal Grouchy and General Rapp, had all 
 been ordered to concentrate at this place, which was made 
 the general point of junction. 
 
 Having given the necessary orders, the Emperor proceed- 
 ed from Loan to Paris, which is a journey of only twelve 
 hours, and reached the capital on the night of the 20th. He 
 expected to remain at the capital four or five days to make 
 arrangements for this great national crisis, to complete the 
 defences of Paris, and to hasten the resources that might be 
 obtained from the depots and the provinces, and calculated to 
 return to the head-quarters of the army by the 25th. 
 
 On the evening of the 18th, and on the 19th, Marshal 
 Grouchy attacked the Prussian general Thielman, repulsed 
 him, and was pursuing him in the direction of Brussels, when 
 he was informed of the loss of the battle, and received the 
 
Chap, xxvih-3 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 369 
 
 orders of the Emperor to retreat towards Namur. He com- 
 menced his retreat, and was followed cautiously by the Prus- 
 sians, who, advancing too near, were attacked and repulsed 
 with 'the loss of several hundred prisoners. The Marshal 
 arrived at Loan on the 26th, with a force of 32,000 men, 
 6,500 of whom were cavalry. 
 
 The situation of France after the battle of Waterloo, was 
 not so desperate as has been considered. This battle might 
 have been to France what the battle of Cannas was to Rome, 
 not what that of Zama was to Carthage, had it not been for 
 the unsettled condition of the government. By the 27th of 
 June 70,000 men had rallied between Paris and Loan, from 25 
 to 30,000 were on their march from the capital and the depots, 
 and General Rapp with 25,000 select troops would have ar- 
 rived early in July, on the Marne, making a force of 120,000 
 men, equal to that which the Emperor had at the commence- 
 ment of hostilities. At Paris there were 500 field pieces; 
 and for it defence it had 36,000 national guards, 30,000 rifle- 
 men, 6,000 gunners and 600 pieces of ordnance in battery; 
 formidable entrenchments were erected on the right bank of 
 the Seine, and the works on the left could soon have been 
 
 completed. ■ _ „ 
 
 The allied armies, weakened by the loss of probably 70 or 
 80 000 men, would not have been able to cross the frontiers 
 with more than 90,000. They would not have hazarded to 
 penetrate to Paris with so inconsiderable a force, but would 
 have been obliged to wait for the arrival of the Austrian and 
 Russian armies, which could not reach the Marne before the 
 fifteenth of July; nor more than 30 or 40,000 of their troops, 
 at so early a period as that. This would have given Paris 
 twenty-five days to prepare for its defence, to complete its ar- 
 maments and fortifications, and to collect troops from all parts 
 of the empire. Besides, Marshal Suchet would at the same 
 time have more than 30,000 men at Lyons, exclusive of the 
 garrison of the town. The defence of the fortified places were 
 such as could be relied upon, they being commanded by se- 
 lect officers and garrisoned by faithful troops. 
 
 On the 21st of June, Wellington and Blucher entered the 
 territory of France in two columns; on the 24th the former 
 had reached Cambray, and the latter Guise. On the 26th 
 Wellington entered Peronne. But during all this time the 
 three lines of fortresses in their rear on the frontiers of Flan- 
 ders were invested. On the 25th they heard of the abdica- 
 tion o^ the Emperor, of the tumultuary and disorderly con- 
 
 16* 
 
370 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON [Chap, xxviii. 
 
 duct of the chambers, the divisions and agitation of the gov- 
 ernment, and the general alarm and confusion which prevailed 
 at the capital. On receiving this information they instantly- 
 determined to march to Paris; they reached the capital on 
 the last day of June. As their united forces amounted only 
 to 90,000 men, this step would not have been hazarded if 
 Buonaparte had been in power, or if it had it would have been 
 fatal; but nothing was to be feared now; Napoleon had abdi- 
 cated, and the government was in confusion. 
 
 The abdication of the Emperor was occasioned by the dis- 
 affection of the chambers. He arrived at Paris on the night 
 of the 20th of June, and confirmed all that had been feared 
 as to the defeat of the army, and the critical situation of the 
 nation; he immediately called a council of ministers. The 
 two houses assembled, and their sitting of the 21st was char- 
 acterised by great agitation and alarm. Their fears were not 
 only from the troops of the allies, which were marching to- 
 wards Paris, but an apprehension prevailed that the Emperor 
 would dissolve the legislative bodies. The utmost agitation 
 prevailed; various propositions were made, debated and with- 
 drawn; all appeared sensible that something must be done, 
 and that immediately, but no one knew what to do. At length 
 the venerable patriot, La Fayette, arose and addressed the 
 chambers: "This is the first time that I have raised my 
 voice within these walls, and I feel the necessity of opening 
 my whole soul to my colleagues. In a time of public distress, 
 the true friends of liberty will perhaps recognise this voice 
 which has always been raised in its defence, and never has 
 been mingled with the cries of faction. Our armies have 
 suffered a reverse, and our territory is threatened. It is to 
 you representatives of the people, that it belongs to rally the 
 nation around the tri-colored banner of 1789, that sacred 
 standard which is the signal of the revival of liberty, inde- 
 pendence and public order. It is to you that it belongs to 
 summon the whole nation to the defence of its rights, its in- 
 dependence and its territory against foreign usurpation. A 
 veteran of liberty, and, I repeat it, a stranger to the spirit of 
 faction, I am about to propose to you those measures which 
 our present critical circumstances imperiously require." 
 
 He then proposed that the Chamber declare that the inde- 
 pendence of the nation is threatened; that it declare itself 
 permanent, and every individual who shall attempt disorder 
 to be guilty of treason; that the troops who have fought for 
 the integrity of the French territory have deserved well of 
 
Chap, xxviii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 371 
 
 their country; that measures be immediatey taken to furnish 
 arms to the national guards who might be destitute, and that 
 the ministers be required to attend before the Chamber to an- 
 swer such questions as might be asked of them. The resolu- 
 tions of La Fayette with some modifications, were adopted. — 
 The ministers did not appear until 5 o'clock in the afternoon; 
 they were accompanied by Lucien Buonaparte, which occa- 
 sioned great murmurs; they, however, subsided, on the house 
 being informed by the president that Lucien appeared as the 
 commissioner of the Emperor. The information communicated 
 by the ministers increased the agitation and alarm. M. Du- 
 chene and other republican members declared that as the al- 
 lies had refused to treat with the man at the head of the gov- 
 ernment, it was a duty which the Chamber owed to the nation, 
 to insist on the unqualified abdication of the Emperor. In 
 this critical conjuncture, Buonaparte seems to have been 
 greatly embarrassed how to act. He was urged by some of 
 his adherents to dissolve the mutinous assembly and establish 
 himself dictator. He hesitated and seemed undecided — ex- 
 hausted from fatigue, anxiety and the loss of sleep, and im- 
 pressed from the awfully responsible situation in which he was 
 placed, the war being declared to be prosecuted against him 
 and not against the nation, his energy and decision of charac- 
 ter seemed to have forsaken him. Lucien declared that the 
 smoke of the battle of Mount St. Jean had turned his brain. 
 He finally decided to abdicate in favor of his son. Accord- 
 ingly on the 22d, the following declaration was communicated 
 to the legislative bodies. 
 
 " Frenchmen! In commencing war for the maintenance of 
 the national independence, I relied on the union of all efforts, 
 all wills and all authorities. I had reason to hope for success, 
 and I braved all the declarations of the powers against me. — 
 Circumstances appear to be changed. I offer, myself as a 
 sacrifice to the hatred of the enemies of France. May they 
 prove sincere in their declarations, and to have aimed only at 
 me! My political life is ended; and I proclaim my son Na- 
 poleon II, Emperor of the French. Unite for the public 
 safety, if you would remain an independent nation. — Done at 
 the palace Elysee, June the 22d, 1815. Napoleon." 
 
 The two chambers voted Buonaparte an address of thanks 
 for the sacrifice he had made for the interest of the nation, 
 which was presented by their president Lanjuinias, and an- 
 swered by Napoleon. A decree was then proposed by M. 1 
 
372 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxviii, 
 
 Dupin introduced by a warm compliment to the Emperor for 
 his abdication, declaring that the Chamber, in the name of 
 the nation, accepted of the abdication of Napoleon, and for 
 constituting the Chamber of Deputies the National Assembly; 
 for constituting a commission to treat for peace with the al- 
 lies in the name of the nation; for appointing a provisional 
 executive of five members; and for raising a committee to 
 form the basis of a new constitution. The agitation was so 
 great that these propositions were not acted upon. After long 
 discussion, Fouche, minister of general police, Carnot, minis- 
 ter of the interior, and General Grenier were chosen on the 
 part of the Chamber of Deputies, as members of a provis- 
 ional government, to consist of five. Caulaincourt and 
 Quinette were added by the House of Peers. On the sitting 
 of the 23d, a unanimous vote passed accepting the abdication 
 of Napoleon, and after various propositions were moved and 
 discussed, M. Manuel delivered a long and animated speech, 
 which concluded with the following resolution: " Napoleon the 
 second has become Emperor of the French by the fact of the 
 abdication of Napoleon the first, and the constitutions of the 
 empire; the decision shall be transmitted to the Chamber of 
 Peers by a message." The resolution was seconded by innu- 
 merable voices. On its being put to vote, the whole Assem- 
 bly rose, and the president declared the resolution adopted. — 
 As the vote was declared, the cry of vive PEmpereur, burst 
 forth in the assembly and the tribune, and was prolonged 
 amidst the most lively applause. The same evening the 
 House of Peers concurred in the above resolution. 
 
 After his abdication Napoleon took up his residence at 
 Malmaison, where on the 25th he communicated to the army 
 his farewell address: — 
 
 *' Napoleon to the brave men of the army under the walls 
 of Paris. Soldiers! — In obeying the necessity which sepa- 
 rates me from the brave French army, I feel the happy cer- 
 tainty that it will justify, by the eminent service which the 
 country expects from it, the eulogiums, which even our ene- 
 mies have not been able to refuse to it. 
 
 Soldiers! I shall follow your movements although absent. 
 I know every corps, and not one of them will gain a single 
 advantage over the enemy, but I shall take notice of the 
 bravery that it will display. They have calumniated you and 
 me. Men little calculated to appreciate our exertions, haye 
 seen in the proofs of attachment which you have given me, 
 only a zeal of which I was tl)e only object. May your fu- 
 
Chap, xxviii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 373 
 
 ture success teach them that it was the country above all 
 things that you served by obeying me, and that if I had any 
 part in your affection, I owed it to my ardent love for France, 
 our common mother. 
 
 Soldiers! A few efforts more and the coalition is dissolved; 
 Napoleon will be a spectator of the blows which you are 
 about to give them. Preserve the honor, the independence 
 of the French. Continue to the end, the men whom I have 
 known you for twenty years, and you will be invincible. 
 
 Napoleon." 
 
 Thus terminated the second reign — the " hundred days" of 
 Napoleon. 
 
 He requested two frigates to be placed at his disposal, 
 which the minister of marine was immediately ordered to fur- 
 nish, and General Bekear was ordered to provide for his safety 
 during his route to Rochefort, from whence he was expecting 
 to sail for America, which is the asylum for the oppressed, 
 even among kings. On the 29th he set out for Rochefort 
 with his suit amounting to forty persons, faithful officers and 
 domestics, who had determined to remain the devoted part- 
 ners of his fortunes. 
 
 On the night of the 2d July a general council of war was 
 held at Paris, which decided on the necessity of sending a 
 deputation to treat with the commissioners of the allied gen- 
 erals for the surrender of the city; which it was agreed 
 should be a military capitulation only, and have no reference 
 to political questions. The French troops were to evacuate 
 the capital in three days, and retire beyond the Loire, and all 
 the military posts and barriers were to be delivered up to the 
 allies. The chamber continued their sittings after the con- 
 vention, and their hall was closed on the 7th by order of the 
 commander of the national guard. The next day Louis 
 made his public entry into Paris the second time, borne upon 
 foreign bayonets. 
 
 Buonaparte reached Rochefort on the 3d of July, and com- 
 menced his preparations for his voyage to America. But the 
 port being blockaded by eleven English ships with the great- 
 est vigilence, it was found impossible to put to sea. He re- 
 mained here until the 15th, probably expecting that some 
 event might occur favoring his escape. On the 8th he em- 
 barked on board the Saale, one of the frigates assigned him, 
 to try the disposition of the English fleet. On the 10th Ber- 
 trand was sent in a boat to ask permission of the English ad- 
 miral for the frigates destined to convey Buonaparte to Ameri- 
 
374 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxviii 
 
 ca to pass; but received for answer that they would be at- 
 tacked the moment they might attempt to leave the port. He 
 however communicated to the ex-emperor that if he was in- 
 clined to come on board of his ship, he should be treated with 
 respect; that he would guarantee his safety and conduct him 
 to England, where his destiny would depend upon the British 
 government, which he presumed would convey him where he 
 might desire to go. On the 12th Nanpoleo ascertained from his 
 brother Joseph the dissolution of the chambers and the king's 
 entrance into Paris. The same day he landed with his suit 
 and baggage on the isle of Aix, and on the following night 
 two half-decked boats arrived there from Rochelle. These 
 boats the ex-emperor had purchased with the expectation of 
 embarking in them, and attempting under cover of night to 
 reach a Danish smack, which was to wait for him at the dis- 
 tance of 30 or 40 leagues. This attempt however was not 
 
 made. 
 
 In this emergency Napoleon resolved to trust to the mag- 
 nanimity of the British government, and accordingly on the 
 13th he addressed the following letter to the Prince Regent 
 of England. This was sent on board the Bellerophon, and 
 Captain Maitland of that vessel, immediately despatched it 
 to England in the Slaney, and prepared his own vessel for 
 the reception of the fallen Emperor. 
 
 Rochefort, July 13, 1815. 
 
 " Your Royal Highness, 
 
 A victim to the factions which divide my 
 country, and to the hostility of the greatest powers of Europe, 
 I have terminated my political career, and come, like The- 
 mistocles, to seat myself on the hearth of the British peo- 
 ple. I put myself under the protection of their laws, which 
 I claim from your royal highness, as the most powerful, the 
 most constant and the most generous of my enemies. 
 
 Napoleon." 
 
 He was accompanied by four of his generals— Bertrand, 
 Savary, L'Allemand and Montholon, and by Count Las Cases. 
 Of these, Bertrand and Montholon had their ladies on board, 
 with three children belonging to Count Bertrand, and one of 
 Count Montholon's. The son of Las Cases accompanied 
 the Emperor as a page. There were nine officers of infe- 
 rior rank, and thirty-nine domestics. 
 
 Buonaparte came out of Aix Roads on board of the Eper- 
 vier. Wind and tide being against the brig, Captain Mait- 
 
Ckap. xxviii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON 375 
 
 land sent the barge of the Bellerophon to transport him to 
 that ship. Most of the officers and crew of the Eperyier had 
 tears in their eyes, and they continued to cheer the Emperor 
 while their voices could be heard. He was received on board 
 the Bellerophon respectfully, but without any salute or dis- 
 tinguished honors. As Captain Maitland advanced to meet 
 him on the quarter-deck, Napoleon pulled off his hat, and ad- 
 dressing him in a firm tone of voice, said, " I come to place 
 myself under the protection of your prince and laws." Dur- 
 ing the whole passage, notwithstanding his situation, and the 
 painful uncertainty under which he labored, Napoleon seemed 
 always tranquil, and in good temper; at times, he even ap- 
 proached to cheerfulness. He spoke with tenderness of his 
 wife and family, complained of being separated from them, 
 and had the tears in his eyes when he showed their portraits 
 to Captain Maitland. His health seemed perfectly good; but 
 he was occasionally subject to somnolency, proceeding, per- 
 haps, from the exhaustion of a constitution which had gone 
 through such severe service. 
 
 On the 23d July, they passed LTshant. Napoleon remained 
 long on deck, and cast many a melancholy look to the coast 
 of France, but made no observations. At day-break, on the 
 24th, the Bellerophon was off Dartmouth; and Buonaparte 
 was struck, first with the boldness of the coast, and then, as 
 he entered Torbay, with the well-known beauty of the scen- 
 ery. " It reminded him," he said, " of Porto Ferrajo, in 
 Elba;" an association which must at the moment have waken- 
 ed strange remembrances in the mind of the deposed Em- 
 peror. 
 
 The Bellerophon had hardly anchored, when orders came 
 from the admiral, Lord Keith, which were soon after second- 
 ed by others from the admiralty, enjoining that no one, of 
 whatever rank or station, should be permitted to come on 
 board of the Bellerophon, except the officers and men belong- 
 ing to the ship. On the 26th, the vessel received orders to 
 move round to Plymouth sound. 
 
 That frenzy of popular curiosity, which, predominating in 
 all free states, seems to be carried to the utmost excess by 
 the English nation, caused such numbers of boats to surround 
 the Bellerophon, that, notwithstanding the peremptory orders 
 of the admiralty, and in spite of the efforts of the man-of- 
 war's boats, which maintained constant guard round the ves- 
 sel, it was almost impossible to keep them at the prescribed 
 distance of a cable's length from the ship. They incurred 
 
376 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxviii 
 
 the risk of being run down— of being, as they might appre- 
 hend shot, (for muskets were discharged for the purpose of 
 intimidation,) of all the dangers of a naval combat, rather 
 than lose the opportunity of seeing the Emperor whom they 
 had heard so much of. When he appeared he was greeted 
 with huzzas, which he returned with bows, but could not help 
 expressing his wonder at the eagerness of popular curiosity, 
 which he was not accustomed to see. in such a pitch of exci- 
 tation On the evening of the 30th of July, Major-General 
 Sir Henry Bunbury, one of the under secretaries of state, 
 arrived, bringing with him the final intentions of the British 
 government, for the disposal of Buonaparte and his suite.—- 
 Upon the 31st, Lord Keith and Sir Henry waited upon the 
 ex-emperor, on board of the Bellerophon, to communicate to 
 him the unpleasant tidings. Napoleon received the admiral 
 and under secretary of state with becoming dignity and calm- 
 ness The letter of Lord Melville (first Lord of the admiral- 
 ty,) was read to the ex-emperor, announcing his future desti- 
 nation. It stated that" it would be inconsistant with the 
 duty of the British ministers to their sovereign and his allies, 
 to leave General Buonaparte the means or opportunity of 
 again disturbing the peace of Europe— announced that the 
 island of St. Helena was selected for his future residence, 
 and selected as such, because its local situation would permit 
 his enjoying more freedom than could be compatible with ade- 
 quate security elsewhere— that, with the exception of Gen- 
 erals Savary and L'Allemand, the General might select three 
 officers together with his surgeon, to attend him to St Helena 
 —that twelve domestics would also be allowed." Ihe same 
 document stated, " that the persons who might attend upon 
 him would be liable to a certain degree of restraint, and 
 could not be permitted to leave the island without the sanc- 
 tion of the British government. Lastly, it was announced 
 that Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, appointed to the 
 chief command of the Cape of Good Hope, would be pre- 
 sently ready to sail for the purpose of conveying General 
 Buonaparte to St. Helena, and therefore it was desirable that 
 he should without delay make choice of the persons who were 
 to form his suite." V „ 
 
 The letter was read in French to Buonaparte by Sir Henry 
 Bunbury He listened without impatience, interruption, or 
 emotion of any kind. When he was requested to state if he 
 had any reply, he began, with great calmness of manner and 
 mildness of countenance, to declare that he solemnly protest- 
 
Chap, xxviii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 377 
 
 ed against the orders which had been read — that the British 
 ministry had no right to dispose of him in the way proposed 
 — that he appealed to the British people and the laws — and 
 asked what was the tribunal which he ought to appeal to. " I 
 am come,' 7 he continued, " voluntarily to throw myself on the 
 hospitality of your nation — I am not a prisoner of war, and 
 if I was, have a right to be treated according to the law of 
 nations. But I am come to this country a passenger on board 
 one of your vessels, after a previous negotiation with the 
 commander. If he had told me I was to be a prisoner, I 
 would not have come. I asked him if he was willing to re- 
 ceive me on board and convey me to England. Captain Mait- 
 land said he was, having received, or telling me he had re- 
 ceived, special orders of government concerning me. It was 
 a snare that had been spread for me; I came on board a 
 British vessel as I would have entered one of their towns— a 
 vessel, a village, it is the same thing. As for the island of 
 St. Helena, it would be my sentence of death. I demand to 
 be received as an English citizen. How many years entitle 
 me to be domiciliated?" 
 
 Sir Henry Bunbury answered, that he believed four were 
 necessary. " Well, then," continued Napoleon, " let the 
 Prince Regent during that time place me under any superin- 
 tendence he thinks proper — let me be placed in a country- 
 house in the centre of the island, thirty leagues from every 
 seaport — place a commissioned officer about rue, to examine 
 my correspondence and superintend my actions; or, if the 
 Prince Regent should require my word of honor, perhaps I 
 might give it. I might then enjoy a certain degree of per- 
 sonal liberty, and I should have the freedom of literature. — 
 In St. Helena I could not live three months; to my habits and 
 constitution it would be certain death. I am used to ride 
 twenty miles a day — what am I to do^on that little rock at the 
 end of the world? No! Botany Bay is better than St. Helena 
 — I prefer death to St. Helena — and what good is my death to 
 do you ? I am no longer a sovereign. What danger could re- 
 sult from my living as a private person in the heart of Eng- 
 land, and restricted in any way which the government should 
 think proper?" 
 
 He referred repeatedly to the manner of his coming on 
 board the Bellerophon, insisting on his being perfectly free in 
 his choice, and that he had preferred confiding to the hospi- 
 tality and generosity of the British nation. 
 
 " Otherwise," he said, u why should I not have gone to my 
 father-in-law, or to the Emperor Alexander, who is my per- 
 
378 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxviii 
 
 sonal friend? We have become enemies, because he wanted 
 to annex Poland to his dominions, and my popularity among 
 the Poles was in his way. But otherwise he was my friend, 
 and he would not have treated me in this way. If your gov- 
 ernment act thus, it will disgrace you in the eyes of Europe. 
 Even your own people will blame it. Besides, you do not 
 know the feeling that my death will create both in France 
 and Italy. There is, at present, a high opinion of England 
 in these countries. If you kill me it will be lost, and the 
 lives of many English will be sacrificed. What was there to 
 force me to the step I took? The tri-colored flag was still 
 flying at Bourdeaux, Nantes, and Rochefort. The army has 
 not even yet submitted. Or, if I had chosen to remain in 
 France, what was there to prevent me from remaining con- 
 cealed for years amongst a people so much attached to me?" 
 
 He then returned to his negotiation with Captain Maitland, 
 and dwelt on the honors and attentions showed to him person- 
 ally by that officer and Admiral Hotham. " And after all, 
 it was only a snare for me!" He again enlarged on the dis- 
 grace to England which was impending. " I hold out to the 
 Prince Regent," he said, " the brightest page in his history, 
 in placing myself at his discretion. I have made war on you 
 for twenty years, and I give you the highest proof of confi- 
 dence by voluntarily giving myself into the hands of my most 
 inveterate and constant enemies. Remember" he continued, 
 " what I have been, and how I stood among the sovereigns of 
 Europe. This courted my protection — that gave me his 
 daughter — all sought for my friendship. I was Emperor, ac- 
 knowledged by all the powers in Europe, except Great Brit- 
 ain, and she had acknowledged me as Chief Consul. Your 
 government has no right to term me General Buonaparte," 
 he added, pointing to the offensive epithet in Lord Melville's 
 letter. " I am Prince, or Consul, and ought to be treated as 
 such, if treated with at all. When I was at Elba, I was at 
 least as much a sovereign in that island as Louis on the 
 throne of France. We had both our respective flags, our 
 ships and our troops — mine to be sure," he said with a smile, 
 i( were rather on a small scale — I had six hundred soldiers, 
 and he two hundred thousand. At length I made war upon 
 him, defeated him, and dethroned him. But there was noth- 
 ing in this to deprive me of my rank as one of the sovereigns 
 of Europe." 
 
 During this remarkable scene, Napoleon's manner was per- 
 fectly calm and collected, his voice equal and firm, his tones 
 
Chap, xxviii.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 379 
 
 very pleasing. Once or twice only he spoke more rapidly, 
 and in a harsher key. He used little gesticulation, the action 
 of the head was dignified, and the countenance remarkably 
 soft and placid, without any marks of severity. He seemed 
 to have made up his mind, anticipating what was to be an- 
 nounced, and perfectly prepared to reply. In expressing his 
 positive determination not to go to St. Helena, he left it to his 
 hearers to infer, whether he meant to prevent his removal by 
 suicide, or to resist it by force. 
 
 The inconvenient resort of immense numbers, sometimes 
 not less than a thousand boats, scarce to be kept off by abso- 
 lute force by those who rowed guard within the prescribed dis- 
 tance of 300 yards from the Bellerophon, was rendered a great 
 annoyance, when Napoleon's repeated expressions that he 
 would never go to St. Helena, occasioned some suspicions that 
 he meant to attempt his escape. Two frigates were therefore 
 appointed to lie as guards on the Bellerophon, and sentinels 
 were doubled and trebled, by day and night. On the 4th of Au- 
 gust, the Bellerophon was appointed to put to sea and remain 
 cruising off the Start, where she was to be joined by the 
 squadron destined for St. Helena, when Napoleon was, with 
 his immediate attendants, to be removed on board the North- 
 umberland. 
 
 His spirit for some time seemed wound up to some desper- 
 ate resolve, and though he gave no hint of suicide before Cap- 
 tain Maitland, otherwise than by expressing a resolution not 
 to go to St. Helena, yet to Las Cases, he spoke in undisguis- 
 ed terms of a Roman death; but the philosophical arguments 
 of Las Cases determined him to survive and write his history. 
 
 On the 4th of August, the Bellerophon set sail, and next 
 morning fell in with the Northumberland, and the squadron 
 destined for St. Helena, as also with the Tonnant, on board 
 of which Lord Keith's flag was hoisted. It was now that 
 Napoleon gave Captain Maitland the first intimation of his 
 purpose to submit to his exile, by requesting that Mr. O'Mea- 
 ra, surgeon of the Bellerophon, might be permitted to attend 
 him to St. Helena instead of his own surgeon, whose health 
 could not stand the voyage. His baggage was subjected to a 
 form of search, but without unpacking or disturbing any arti- 
 cle. The treasure of Buonaparte, amounting only to 4000 
 gold Napoleons, was taken into custody, to abridge him of 
 that powerful means of effecting his escape. His suite as 
 finally arranged, consisted of Count Bertrand, Count Mon- 
 tholon, Count Las Cases, General Gourgaud, his aid-de-camp, 
 
880 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxtiii. 
 
 and Dr. O'Meara. Bertrand and Montholon were accom- 
 panied by their respective countesses and children, and twelve 
 domestics of the imperial household followed their master's 
 fortunes. 
 
 About eleven o'clock on the morning of the 7th of August, 
 Lord Keith came in his barge to transfer Napoleon from the 
 Bellerophon to the Northumberland. About 1 o'clock, when 
 Buonaparte had announced that he was in full readiness, a 
 captain's guard was turned out; Lord Keith's barge was pre- 
 pared; and as Napoleon crossed the quarter-deck, the sol- 
 diers presented arms under three ruffles of the drum. His 
 step was firm and steady; his farewell to Captain Maitland 
 polite and friendly. 
 
 "It may appear surprising," says Captain Maitland, "that 
 a possibility could exist of a British officer being prejudiced 
 in favor of one who had caused so many calamities to his 
 country; but to such an extent did he possess the power of 
 pleasing, that there are few people who could have set at the 
 same table with him for nearly a month, as I did, without feel- 
 ing a sensation of pity, allied perhaps to regret, that a man 
 possessed of so many fascinating qualities, and who had held 
 so high a station in life, should be reduced to the situation in 
 which I saw him." 
 
 To the extraordinary power of fascination which Napoleon 
 had at command, a still more striking testimony occurs in an 
 anecdote, apparently well authenticated, of Lord Keith. — 
 When some one alluded in his hearing to Buonaparte's re- 
 peated request of a personal interview with the Prince Re- 
 gent, " On my conscience," said the admiral, " I believe, if 
 you consent to that, they will be excellent friends within half 
 an hour." 
 
 Sir George Cockburn received Napoleon on board the 
 Northumberland with the same honors paid on leaving the 
 Bellerophon, and on the 8th of August set sail for St. Hele- 
 na. Napoleon spent his mornings in reading or writing; his 
 evenings in his exercise upon deck, and at cards. The game 
 was generally < vingtun.' But when the play became rather 
 deep, he discouraged that amusement and substituted chess. 
 
 During this voyage, Napoleon's 'jour de fete' occurred, 
 which was also his birthday. It was the 15th of August; a 
 day for which the Pope had expressly canonized a St. Na- 
 poleon to be the Emperor's patron. And now, strange revo- 
 lution, it was celebrated by him on board of an English man- 
 of-war, which was conducting him to his place of imprison- 
 
Chap xxviii.] CAMPAIGNS OP NAPOLEON. 381 
 
 ment, and, as it proved, his tomb. Yet Napoleon seemed 
 cheerful and contented during the whole day, and was even 
 pleased with being fortunate at play which he received as a 
 good omen. 
 
 Upon the 15th October, 1815, the Northumberland reached 
 St. Helena, which presents but an unpromising aspect to 
 those who design it for a residence, though it may be a wel- 
 come sight to the sea-worn mariner. Its destined inhabitant, 
 from the deck of the Northumberland, surveyed it with his 
 spy-glass. St. James's Town, an inconsiderable village, was 
 before him, enchased, as it were, in a valley, amid arid and 
 scarped rocks of immense height; every platform, every 
 opening, every gorge, was bristled with cannon. Las Cases, 
 who stood by him, could not perceive the slightest alteration 
 of his countenance. The orders of government had been, 
 that Napoleon should remain on board till a residence could 
 be prepared suitable for the line of life he was to lead in fu- 
 ture. But as this was likely to be a work of time, Sir George 
 Cockburn readily undertook, on his own responsibility, to put 
 his passengers on shore, and provide in some way for the se- 
 curity of Napoleon's person, until the necessary habitation 
 should be fitted up. He was accordingly transferred to land 
 upon the 16th of October; and thus the Emperor of France, 
 nay, well nigh of Europe, sunk into the Recluse of St. He- 
 lena. 
 
 napoleon's farewell. 
 
 Farewell to the land where the gloom of my glory 
 
 Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her name — 
 
 She abandons me now, — but the page of her story, 
 
 The brightest or blackest, is fill'd with my fame. 
 
 I have war'd with a world which vanquished me only 
 
 When the meteor of conquest allured me too far; 
 
 I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely, 
 
 The last single captive to millions in war. 
 
 Farewell to thee, France ! when thy diadem crown'd me, 
 
 I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth, — 
 
 But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee, 
 
 Decay'd in thy glory and sunk in thy worth. 
 
 Oh ! for the veteran hearts that were wasted 
 
 In strife with the storm, when their battles were won — 
 
 Then the eagle, whose gaze in that moment waa blasted, 
 
 Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on Victory's sun! 
 
 Farewell to thee, France ! — but when liberty rallies 
 Once more in thy regions, remember me then — 
 
382 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap xztiix. 
 
 The violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys; 
 
 Though wither'd, thy tears will unfold it again; 
 
 Yet, yet I may baffle the hosts that surround us, 
 
 And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voice — 
 
 There are links which must break in the chain that has bound us, 
 
 Then turn thee, and call on the chief of thy choice ! 
 
 On the justice of consigning Napoleon to the isle of St. He- 
 lena, we shall make a few comments. — The British ministers 
 exceeded their powers, in determining to seclude their prisoner 
 in this solitary abode. Without the sanction of parliament, 
 and without the authority of an express act for the purpose, 
 they had no legal right to detain or thus dispose of the stran- 
 ger who had sought the protection of their laws. But, con- 
 fiding in the facility with which a majority can always be 
 obtained in the house of commons, they boldly ventured upon 
 a rigour beyond the law, and were afterwards redeemed from 
 blame by an act of indemnity. The decision of the minis- 
 ters was probably accelerated by the appearance of the fol- 
 lowing document, which excited a powerful sensation in 
 England, and on the continent of Europe: — 
 
 TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE. 
 
 The machinations of treason have obliged me again to 
 separate from you; but, the victims of the same treason, I la- 
 ment only your misfortunes. 
 
 I coveted the sceptre but to sway it for your glory and wel- 
 fare. The knowledge of my devotion to your honor and 
 prosperity excited the hatred of the sovereigns of Europe. — 
 Had I sought only to reign, without regard to the interests of 
 my people, I should have established, in their estimation, the 
 legitimacy of my title to the throne. Had agriculture been 
 neglected, had manufactories languished, had debt accumula- 
 ted, and public spirit been degraded, then I should have pos- 
 sessed the assured friendship of rival potentates. Had 1 cir- 
 cumscribed the prosperity of the empire to the embellishment 
 of its palaces, or sacrificed the majesty of the throne to the 
 preservation of the royal authority, then my dynasty might 
 have possessed the inglorious inheritance. 
 
 The sovereigns of Europe confederated against me as a 
 legislator whose establishments nurtured and animated the 
 talents and industry of the community, of which I had been 
 elected the chief magistrate, and they proscribed my person 
 as the shield of the power and independence of the state. — 
 The enemies of a revolution which had triumphed over the 
 
Chap, xxvm.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 383 
 
 ! 
 abuses that occasioned it, and mercenary traitors, insensible 
 to the calamities of an invaded country, associated their ef- 
 forts to paralyse national exertion, and make you believe that 
 war was my policy, and peace the boon which the govern- 
 ments of Europe solicited from France. Unwilling to sacri- 
 fice the illustrious remnant of your defenders, thus isolated 
 from their country, I yielded to the wishes of your represen- 
 tatives, and, to consummate your security, I surrendered my- 
 self into the hands of my enemies. 
 
 History affords no example where repose and independence 
 were the rewards of submission, but many instances of indi- 
 vidual devotion to the hopes of a nation. Since the fatal mo- 
 ment when' France announced that she ceased to combat for 
 her liberty and safety, what misfortunes, crimes and humilia- 
 tions have devastated and degraded the empire? War with 
 all its devastations — conquest, with all its violence — tyranny, 
 with all its abuses — and subjugation, with all its shame, have 
 overwhelmed you. Outrage and perfidy have outstripped 
 even my forebodings. 
 
 The perfidy of Austria, which uncovered my line and oc- 
 casioned my disasters in Russia, which bartered Poland, vio- 
 lated the military convention of Dresden and negotiated but 
 to betray; — the perfidy of Prussia, whose monarchy I pre- 
 served, when treason had undermined the throne, and cow- 
 ardice had rendered the kingdom defenceless; — of Russia, 
 whose civil, military and political history is a series of syste- 
 matic contempt of faith and equity; — of Bavaria, whose un- 
 paralleled turpitude obliged me to fight at Leipsic for preser- 
 vation, and not for conquest; — of Switzerland, who, for a 
 paltry bribe, sold the tranquility of her citizens, the safety of 
 her country, and the sanctity of her neutrality; — of England, 
 whose sophisms have annihilated public law, and whose poli- 
 cy, since the era of Pitt, has unblushingly substituted power 
 for principle, and expedience for justice: not the recollection 
 of all these perfidies had prepared me for those which have 
 now been emulously perpetrated by sovereigns who professed 
 that they bore arms against France only so long as I was 
 seated on her throne. The most lawless barbarians have 
 never manifested such contempt for solemn obligations. The 
 darkest ages have never presented such scenes of treachery 
 and lincentious direction of force in an unresisting country. 
 The miserable king, who was content to render France their 
 prey, has even his wrongs to plead. The mockery of his 
 sway desecrates the divinity of his right, and he trembles lest 
 
384 CAMPAIGNS OP NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxvih 
 
 the vengeance of the nation should sweep him and the de- 
 spoilers from the soil before the work of ruin is accomplished. 
 
 Frenchmen! you are now told that not only my ambition, 
 but your contumacious spirit of conquest demanded punish- 
 ment. Even the acquisitions of former sovereigns and former 
 epochs are now cited as your crimes. And by whom are 
 these charges advanced? By sovereigns whose empires have 
 been formed of successive encroachments on the indepen- 
 dence and territories of their neighbors. What was Russia 
 in the beginning of the last century? How became the elec- 
 tor of Brandenburgh monarch of a powerful kingdom? Has 
 Austria absorbed no kingdoms, dismembered no provinces, 
 and does she now hold no domain by the sole tenure of force? 
 Look at the map of Europe. Has France only usurped? — 
 Do all the states recognised as independent, even by the trea- 
 ty of Westphalia, exist? Look around the globe. See the 
 English flag flying in every quarter, and in countries where 
 religion, laws, and language are most dissonant. Has she 
 not subjugated the greater part of Asia? Is she not still en- 
 deavoring to force the rampart which separates her from Chi- 
 na, and has she not been waging a second war to recover her 
 influence on the American continent? 
 
 Our ambition was security. If England had not aspired at 
 the sovereignty of three fourths of the globe, I should have 
 temporised with the unfriendly counsels of Spain. If Rus- 
 sia had not partitioned Poland, and aimed at empire in the 
 south, I never should have proposed to repulse her from the 
 Vistula to the Volga. Europe had acknowledged the bane- 
 ful influence of England's usurpation. The blood that has 
 flowed for the last twenty-five years has flowed at her pur- 
 chase; and Europe will further rue the event of a struggle 
 that removes the ascendancy of a civilized people for the 
 domination of northern barbarians. 
 
 You are accused of having preferred war to peace, so long 
 as war was successful. Your answers are these. Who first 
 warred against your revolution? Who violated the treaty of 
 Amiens, and violated it with shameless disdain of truth?-— 
 Who rejected negotiations repeatedly offered, or broke them 
 when conciliation was practicable? Who declared the war of 
 which you are now the victims? Is it not of their own de- 
 creeing? I regreted your sacrifices. I was moved to vindi- 
 cate your indignities, but I adopted the policy of peace, 
 which was the will of the nation, and I respected it as the 
 bond of union between me and my people. Frenchmen 1 
 
Chap, xxix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON 385 
 
 posterity will judge how far I am responsible to my country 
 for the event of our military efforts. They will decide, when 
 the records are before them, whether I could have mastered 
 fortune; but my love for France, my gratitude for her confi- 
 dence, and my devotion to her welfare, can never be subject 
 to suspicion. To France I owe my existence, and the con- 
 sciousness of that claim has confirmed the rights of nature. 
 
 Frenchmen! I am still your emperor: but I hold the crown 
 for my son and your interests. His succession can alone en- 
 sure the fruits of your efforts against a dynasty whose reign 
 is identified with your slavery. Foreign force may support 
 the throne of a patricide king: but the power of fifty millions 
 of Frenchmen is not to be permanently subdued. You have 
 acquired mournful but useful experience. You are now con- 
 vinced that arms alone can redeem you from vassalage and 
 ignominy. 
 
 Cherish the brave men who have fought your battles. — 
 They will again conduct you to glory and victory. 
 
 On the rock where I am doomed to pass my future days by 
 the disloyal sentence of your enemies, I shall hear the echo 
 of your triumph, and hail, in the loom of its horizon, the flag 
 of your independence. Napoleon. 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 Napoleon at St. Helena. The Briars. Longwood, his residence. Pre- 
 cautions taken for his safe custody. Sir Hudson Lowe. Napoleon'a 
 domestic habits, amusements and exercises. Sir Pulteney Malcolm. — 
 Interview with Captain Basil Hall. 
 
 Napoleon was weary of shipboard, and, therefore, landed 
 immediately. Finding the curiosity of the people trouble- 
 some, he took up his quarters at c the Briars/ a small cottage 
 about half a mile from James's Town, during the interval 
 which must needs elapse before the admiral could provide 
 suitable accommodation for his permanent residence. For 
 that purpose, Longwood, a villa about six miles from James's 
 Town, was, after an examination of all that the island afford- 
 ed, determined on: except Plantation House, the country 
 
 17 
 
386 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxu; 
 
 residence of the governor, there was no superior house in St. 
 Helena; and two months having been employed diligently in 
 some additions and repairs, the fallen emperor took posses- 
 sion of his appointed abode on the 10th of December. The 
 very limited accommodation of the Briars (where, indeed, 
 Napoleon merely occupied a pavilion of two chambers in the 
 garden of a Mr. Balcombe,) had hitherto prevented him from 
 having all his little suite of attendants under the same roof 
 with him. They were now reassembled at Longwood, with 
 the exception of M. and Mme. Montholon, who occupied a 
 separate house at some little distance from it. While at the 
 Briars, Napoleon made himself eminently agreeable to the 
 family of the Balcombes, particularly the young ladies and 
 children, and submited on the whole with temper and grace 
 to the inconveniences of narrow accommodation, in doors, and 
 an almost total want of exercise abroad — this last evil occa- 
 sioned wholly by his own reluctance to ride out in the neigh- 
 borhood of the town. He continued also to live on terms of 
 perfect civility with Sir George Cockburn; and, there seem- 
 ed to be no reason for doubting, that, when fairly established 
 with his suite about him, he would gradually reconcile him- 
 self to the situation in which he was likely to remain, and 
 turn his powerful faculties upon some study or pursuit worthy 
 of their energy, and capable of cheating captivity of half its 
 bitterness. These anticipations were not realized. 
 
 A subaltern's guard was posted at the entrance of Long- 
 wood, about six hundred paces from the house, and a cordon 
 of sentinels and piquets was placed round the limits. At 
 nine o'clock the sentinels were drawn in and stationed in 
 communication with each other, surrounding the house in such 
 positions that no person could come in or go out without be- 
 ing seen and scrutinized by them. At the entrance of the 
 house double sentinels were placed, and patrols were con- 
 tinually passing backward and forward. After nine, Na- 
 poleon was not at liberty to leave the house, unless in com- 
 pany with a field officer, and no person whatever was allow- 
 ed to pass without the countersign. This state of affairs 
 continued until day-light in the morning. Every landing- 
 place in the island, and, indeed, every place which presented 
 the semblance of one, was furnished with a piquet, and senti- 
 nels were even placed upon every goat-path leading to the 
 8ea; though in truth the obstacles presented by nature, in al- 
 most all the paths in this direction, would of themselves, have 
 proved insurmountable to so unwieldly a person as Napoleon 
 
% 
 
 w 
 
 p 
 
 S3 
 
 I 
 
Chap, xxix.] CAMPAIGNS OP NAPOLEON. 389 
 
 From the various signal-posts on the island, ships are fre- 
 quently discovered at twenty-four leagues' distance, and al- 
 ways long before they can approach the shore. Two ships of 
 war continually cruised, one to windward, and tbe other to 
 leeward, to whom signals were made as soon as a vessel was 
 discovered from the posts on shore. Every ship, except a 
 British man-of-war, was accompanied down to the road by 
 one of the cruisers, who remained with her until she was 
 either permitted to anchor, or was sent away. No foreign 
 vessels were allowed to anchor, unless under circumstances 
 of great distress; in which case, no person from them was 
 permitted to land, and an officer and party from one of the 
 ships of war was sent on board to take charge of them as 
 long as they remained, as well as in order to prevent any im- 
 proper communication. Every fishing-boat belonging to the 
 island Was numbered, and anchored every evening at sunset, 
 under the superintendence of a lieutenant in the navy No 
 boats, excepting guard-boats from the ships of war, which 
 pulled about the island all night, were allowed to be down af- 
 ter sunset. The orderly officer was also instructed to ascer- 
 tain the actual presence of Napoleon, twice in the twenty-four 
 hours, which was done with as much delicacy as possible — 
 In fact, every human precaution to prevent escape, short of 
 actual incarcerating or enchaining him, was adopted by Sir 
 George Cockburn. 
 
 Hitherto as we have prosecuted our task, each year has 
 been a history which we have found it difficult to contain 
 within our narrow limits, conscious, that, in the necessary 
 compression, we have been obliged to do injustice to the im- 
 portance of our theme. But the years of imprisonment, 
 which pass so much more slowly to the captive, occupy, with 
 their melancholy monotony, only a small portion of the page 
 of history; and the tale of five years of St. Helena, might, 
 so far as events are concerned, be sooner told than the his- 
 tory of a single campaign, the shortest which was fought un- 
 der Buonaparte's auspices. Yet these years were painfully 
 marked, and indeed imbittered, by a train of irritating dis- 
 putes between the prisoner and the officer, (Sir Hudson Lowe,) 
 to whom was committed the task of restricting his liberty, and 
 cutting off all prospect of escape. 
 
 These unpleasant and discreditable disputes form, unhap- 
 pily, the most marked events of Napoleon's latter life. For 
 the five years and seven months that he remained in the 
 island of St. Helena, few circumstances occurred to vary the 
 
390 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxsx. 
 
 melancholy tenor of his life, excepting those which affected 
 his temper or his health. Our present object is a short and 
 general view of his personal and domestic habits, while in 
 this melancholy and secluded habitation. 
 
 Napoleon's life, until his health began to give way, was of 
 the most regular and monotonous character. Having be- 
 come a very indifferent sleeper, perhaps from his custom of 
 assigning during the active part of his life no precise time for 
 repose, his ours of rising were uncertain, depending upon 
 the rest which he had enjoyed during the earlier part of the 
 night. It followed from this irregularity, that during the day 
 time he occasionally fell asleep, for a few minutes, upon his 
 couch or arm-chair. At times his favorite valet-de-chambre, 
 Marchand, read to him while in bed until he was composed to 
 rest, the best remedy, perhaps, for that course of " thick-com- 
 ing fancies," which must so oft have disturbed the repose of 
 one in circumstances so singular and so melancholy. So 
 soon as Napoleon arose from bed, he either began to dictate 
 to one of his generals (Montholon or Gourgaud generally,) 
 and placed upon record such passages of his remarkable life as 
 he desired to preserve; or, if the weather and his inclinations 
 suited, he went out for an hour or two on horseback. He 
 sometimes breakfasted in his own apartment, sometimes with 
 his suite, generally about 10 o'clock, and almost always 'a la 
 fourchette.' The forepart of the day he usually devoted to 
 reading, or dictating to one or other of his suite, and about 
 two or three o'clock received such visiters as had permission 
 to wait upon him. An airing in the carriage or on horseback 
 usually succeeded to this species of levee, on which occa- 
 sion he was attended by all his suite. Their horses, supplied 
 from the Cape of Good Hope, were of a good race and hand- 
 some appearance. On returning from his airings, he again 
 resumed the book, or caused his amanuensis to take up the pen 
 until dinner time, which was about eight o'clock at night. — 
 He preferred plain food, and eat plentifully, and with an ap- 
 parent appetite. A very few glasses of claret, scarcely 
 amounting to an English pint in all, and chiefly drank during 
 the time of dinner,', ^mpleted his meal. Sometimes he drank 
 champaign; but his constitutional sobriety was such, that a 
 large glass of that more generous wine immediately brought 
 a degree of color to his cheek. No man appears to have 
 been in a less degree than Napoleon, subject to the influence 
 of those appetites which man has in common with the lower 
 range of nature. He never took more than two meals a day, 
 
Chap, xxix.} CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 391 
 
 and concluded each with a small cup of coffee. After dinner, 
 chess, cards, a volume of light literature, read aloud for the 
 benefit of his suite, or general conversation, in which the la- 
 dies of his suite occasionally joined, served to consume the 
 evening till ten or eleven, about which time he retired to his 
 apartment, and went immediately to bed. 
 
 We may add to this brief account of Napoleon's domestic 
 habits, that he was very attentive to the duties of the toilette. 
 He usually appeared in the morning in a white night-gown, 
 with loose trowsers and stockings joined in one, a checquered 
 red Madras handkerchief round his head, and his shirt collar 
 open. When dressed, he wore a green uniform, very plainly 
 made, and without ornament, similar to that which by its sim- 
 plicity used to mark the sovereign among the splendid dresses 
 of the Tuilleries, white waistcoat, white or nankeen breeches, 
 with silk stockings, and shoes with gold buckles, a black 
 stock, a triangular cocked hat, with a very small tri-colored 
 cockade. He usually wore, when in full dress, the riband 
 and grand cross of the Legion of Honor. 
 
 His intercourse with his familiar friends, was of a charac- 
 ter the most amiable. It is true, indeed, that, determined, as 
 he expressed himself, to be Emperor within Longwood and 
 its little demense, he exacted from his followers the same 
 severe etiquette which distinguished the Court of the Tuil- 
 leries; yet, in other respects, he permitted them to carry their 
 freedom in disputing his sentiments, or replying to his argu- 
 ments, almost beyond the bounds of ordinary decorum. He 
 seemed to make a distinction between their duty towards him 
 as subjects, and their privileges as friends. All remained un- 
 covered and standing in his presence, and even the person 
 who played at chess with him, sometimes continued for hours 
 without sitting down. But their verbal intercourse of lan- 
 guage and sentiments was that of free men, conversing with 
 a superior indeed, but not with a despot. Captain Maitland 
 mentions a dispute betwixt Napoleon and General Bertrand. 
 The latter had adopted a ridiculous idea that £30,000 a year, 
 or some such extravagant sum, was spent in maintaining the 
 grounds and establishment at Blenheim. Napoleon's turn for 
 calculation easily detected the improb^ jity. Bertrand in- 
 sisted upon the assertion, on which JtJuonaparte said, with 
 quickness, "Bah! c'est impossible." — " Oh!" said Bertrand, 
 much offended, " if you are to reply in that manner, there is 
 an end of all argument;" and for some time would not con- 
 verse with him. Buonaparte, so far from taking umbrage, 
 
392 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. mix. 
 
 did all he could to sooth him and restore him to good humor, 
 which was not very difficult to effect. 
 
 But although Napoleon tolerated freedoms of this kind to a 
 considerable extent, yet he still kept in his own hands the 
 royal privilege of starting the topic of conversation, and con- 
 ducting it as he should think proper; so that, in some re- 
 spects, it seemed that, having lost all the substantial enjoy- 
 ments of power, he had become more attached than ever to 
 the observance of its monotonous ceremonial. The gentle- 
 men who inhabited Longwood had followed him from the 
 purest motives, and there was no reason to suppose that their 
 purpose would waver, or their respect diminish. Still their 
 mutual situation compelled the deposed sovereign, and his 
 late subjects, into such close familiarity, as might perhaps be- 
 get, if not contempt, at least an inconvenient degree of free- 
 dom between the parties, the very possibility of which it 
 might be as well to exclude by a strict barrier of etiquette. 
 
 In respect of personal exercise at St. Helena, he walked 
 occasionally, and while strong, did not shun steep, rough and 
 dangerous paths. But although there is some game on the 
 island, he did not avail himself of the pleasure of shooting. — 
 It does not indeed appear that he was ever much attached to 
 field sports, although, whem Emperor, he replaced the hunt- 
 ing establishment upon a scale still more magnificent, as well 
 as better regulated, than formerly. It is supposed he par- 
 took of this princely pastime, as it has been called, rather out 
 of a love of magnificent display than any real attachment to 
 the sport. We may here mention, in his own words, the dan- 
 ger in which he was once placed at a boar hunt. The picture 
 will remind the amateur of the pieces of Rubens and Schnei- 
 der. 
 
 " Upon one occasion at Marli," said the Emperor, ( * at a 
 boar hunt, I kept my ground with Soult and Berthier against 
 three enormous wild boars, who charged us up to the bayo- 
 net's point. All the hunting party fled: 'twas a complete 
 military route. We killed the three animals dead; but I had 
 a scratch from mine, and had nigh lost my finger" (on which 
 a deep scar was still visible.) " But the jest was to see 
 the numbers of men, surrounded with their dogs, concealing 
 themselves behind the three heroes, and crying at top of their 
 throats — 'to the Emperor's assistance! save the Emperor! 
 help the Emperor!' — and so forth; but not one coming for- 
 ward." 
 
 While on the subject of Napoleon's exercises, we may 
 
Chap, xxix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 393 
 
 mention another danger which he incurred by following an 
 amusement more common in England than in France. He 
 chose at one time to undertake the task of driving a carriage, 
 which he overturned, and had a severe and dangerous fall. — 
 Josephine and others were in the vehicle. The reader can- 
 not fail to recollect that a similar accident happened to Crom- 
 well, who, because, as the historian says, he could manage 
 thiee nations, took upon him to suppose that he could drive 
 six fiery horses, of which he had just received a present; 
 and, being as unsuccessful as Napoleon in latter days, over- 
 turned the carriage, to the great damage of the secretary 
 Thurlow, whom he had placed inside, and to his own double 
 risk, both from the fall, and from the explosion of a pistol, 
 which he carried privately about his person. Buonaparte's 
 sole observation was, " I believe every man should confine 
 himself to his own trade." 
 
 The chief resource of Napoleon at St. Helena was society 
 and conversation, and those held chiefly with the gentlemen 
 of his own suite. This need not have been the case, had he 
 been able in the present instance to command that temper 
 which had not failed him under great misfortunes, but seemed 
 now to give way under a series of petty quarrels and mortifi- 
 cations. 
 
 The governor and the staff belonging to him were of 
 course excluded from the society of Longwood, by the terms 
 on which Napoleon stood with Sir Hudson Lowe. The offi- 
 cers of the regiments which lay in the island might most 
 probably have afforded some well informed men, who, hav- 
 ing been engaged in the recent war, would have occasionally 
 supplied amusing society to the Emperor and his suite. But 
 they did not in genqral frequent Longwood. Dr. O'Meara 
 observes that the governor had exerted his influence to pre- 
 vent the officers from cultivating the acquaintance of the 
 French. 
 
 The rank and character of Sir Pulteney Malcolm, who 
 commanded the squadron upon the station, sat him above the 
 feelings which might influence inferior officers, whether of 
 the army or navy. He visited Napoleon frequently, and was 
 eulogised by him in a description, which may have been paint- 
 ed the more willingly, because it gave the artist an opportuni- 
 ty of contrasting the appearance of the admiral with that of 
 the governor, in a manner most unfavorable to the latter. — 
 Nevertheless we transcribe it, to prove that Buonaparte could 
 do justice, and see desert even in a Briton. 
 17*. 
 
394 \ CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxi* 
 
 "He said he had seen the new admiral, 'Ah! there is a 
 man with a countenance really pleasing, open, frank, and sin- 
 cere. There is the face of an Englishman. His counte- 
 nance bespeaks his heart, and I am sure he is a good man; I 
 never yet beheld a man of whom I so immediately formed a 
 good opinion, as of that fine soldier-like old man. He car- 
 ries his head erect, and speaks out open and boldly what he 
 thinks, without being afraid to look you in the face at the 
 time. His phisiognomy would make every person desirous 
 of a further acquaintance, and render the most suspicious 
 confident in him.' " 
 
 " Does your government mean," said Napoleon one day to 
 the English admiral, "to detain me upon this rock until my 
 death's day?" " I am sorry to say, sir," answered Sir Pul- 
 teney, f ' that such I apprehend is their purpose." — " Then the 
 term of my life will soon arrive," said Napoleon. " I hope 
 not, sir," answered the admiral; "I hope you will survive to 
 record your great actions, which are so numerous that the 
 task will ensure you a term of long life." Napoleon bowed, 
 and was gratified, probably, both as a hero and an author. 
 
 The society of St. Helena receives a great temporary in- 
 crease at the seasons when vessels touch there on their way 
 to India, or on their return to Europe. Of course, every 
 officer and every passenger on such occasions was desirous 
 to see a person so celebrated as Napoleon; and there might 
 sometimes occur individuals among them whom he too might 
 have pleasure in receiving. The regulation of those visits to 
 Longwood seems to have been one of the few parts of the 
 general system of which Napoleon made no complaints. He 
 had a natural reluctance to gratify the idle curiosity of strang- 
 ers, and the regulations protected him effectually against their 
 intrusion. Such persons as desired to wait upon Napoleon 
 were obliged to apply, in the first place, to the governor, by 
 whom their names were transmitted to General Bertrand, as 
 Grand Marshal of the household, who communicated Napole- 
 on's reply, if favorable, and assigned an hour at which he was 
 to receive their visit. 
 
 Those visiters who were admitted to pay their respects at 
 Longwood, were chiefly either persons of distinguished birth, 
 officers of rank in the army and navy, persons of philosophi- 
 cal inquiry, (to whom he was very partial,) or travellers from 
 foreign regions, who could repay, by some information, the 
 pleasure which they received from being admitted to the pres- 
 ence of a man so distinguished. Of these interviews, some 
 
Chap, xxix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 395 
 
 who enjoyed the benefit of them have published an account. 
 All agree ki extolling the extreme good grace, propriety and 
 benevolence of Napoleon whilst holding these levees. His 
 questions were uniformly introduced with great tact, so as to 
 put the person interrogated at his ease, by leading to some 
 subject with which he was acquainted, while, at the same time, 
 they induced him to produce any stock of new or curious in- 
 formation which he possessed. 
 
 The journal of Captain Basil Hall, affords a pleasing ex- 
 ample of what we have been endeavoring to express, and dis- 
 plays at the same time the powerful extent of Buonaparte's 
 memory. He recognised the name of Captain Hall instantly, 
 from having seen his father, Sir James Hall, when he was at 
 the military academy of Brienne. Buonaparte explained the 
 cause of his recollecting a private individual, after the inter- 
 vention of such momentous events as he had himself been 
 concerned in. " It is not," he said, u surprising. Your 
 father was the first Englishman that I ever saw; and I have 
 recollected him all my life on that account." He was after- 
 wards minute in his inquiries respecting the Royal Society of 
 Edinburgh, of which Sir James Hall was long president. He 
 then came to the very interesting subject of the newly dis- 
 covered island of Loo-Choo; and Captain Hall gives an ac- 
 count of the nature of the interrogations which he underwent, 
 which we will not risk spoiling by an attempt at condensing it. 
 
 " Having settled where the island lay, he cross-questioned 
 me about the inhabitants with a closeness— I may call it a 
 severity of investigation — which far exceeds everything I 
 have met with in any other instance. His questions were 
 not by any means put at random, but each one had some defi- 
 nite reference to that which preceded it, or was about to fol- 
 low. I felt in a short time so completely exposed to his view, 
 that it would have been impossible to have concealed or quali- 
 fied the smallest particular. Such, indeed, was the rapidity 
 of his apprehension of the subjects which interested him, and 
 the astonishing ease with which he arranged and generalized 
 the few points of information I gave him, that he sometimes 
 outstripped my narrative, saw the conclusion I was coming to 
 before I spoke it, and fairly robbed me of my story. 
 
 a Several circumstances, however, respecting the Loo- 
 Choo people, surprised even him a good deal; and I had the 
 satisfaction of seeing him more than once completely per- 
 plexed, and unable to account for the phenomena which I re- 
 lated. Nothing struck him so much as their having no arms. 
 
396 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.xxix. 
 
 c Point d'armes!' he exclaimed, 'c'est a dire point de cannons 
 — ils ont des fusils?' Not even muskets, I replied. < Eh 
 bien done — des lances, ou, an, moins, des arcs et des fleches?' 
 I told him they had neither one nor other. i Ni poignards?' 
 cried he with increasing vehemence. No, none. 'Mais!' 
 said Buonaparte, clenching his fist, and raising his voice to a 
 loud pitch, 'Mais! sans armes, comment se bat-on?' 
 
 " I could only reply, that as far as we had been able to dis- 
 cover, they had never had any wars, but remained in a state 
 of internal and external peace. l No wars?' cried he, with a 
 scornful and incredulous expression, as if the existence of 
 any people under the sun without wars was a monstrous 
 anomaly. 
 
 " In like manner, but without being so much moved, he 
 seemed to discredit the account I gave him of their having no 
 money, and of their setting no value upon our silver or gold 
 coins. After hearing these facts stated, he mused for some 
 time, muttering to himself, in a low tone, ' Not know the use 
 of money — are careless about gold and silver.' Then look- 
 ing up, he asked, sharply, ' how then did you contrive to pay 
 these strangest of all people for the bullocks and other good 
 things which they seem to have sent on board in such quanti- 
 ties?' When I informed him that we could not prevail upon 
 the people of Loo-Choo to receive payment of any kind, he 
 expressed great surprise at their liberality, and made me re- 
 peat to him twice, the list of things with which we were sup- 
 plied by these hospitable islanders." 
 
 The conversation proceeded with equal spirit, in which it is 
 singular to remark the acuteness of Napoleon, in seizing up- 
 on the most remarkable arid interesting facts, notwithstanding 
 the hurry of a casual conversation. The low state of the 
 priesthood in Loo-Choo was a subject which he dwelt on 
 without coming to any satisfactory explanation. Captain Hall 
 illustrated the ignorance of the people of Loo-Choo with re- 
 spect to all the world, save Japan and China, by saying they 
 knew nothing of Europe at all — knew nothing of France and 
 England — and never had even heard of his Majesty; at 
 which last proof of their absolute seclusion from the world, 
 Napole6n laughed heartily. During the whole interview, 
 Napoleon waited with the utmost patience until his questions 
 were replied to, inquired with earnestness into every subject 
 of interest, and made naturally a most favorable impression 
 on his visitor. 
 
 " Buonaparte," says the acute traveller, " struck me as 
 
€hap. xxix.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. ' 397 
 
 differing considerably from the pictures and busts I had seen 
 of him. His face and figure looked much broader and more 
 square, larger, indeed, in every way, than any representation 
 I had met with. His corpulency, at this time universally re- 
 ported to be excessive, was by no means remarkable. His 
 flesh looked, on the contrary, firm and muscular. There was 
 not the least trace of color in his cheeks; in. fact, his skin was 
 more like marble than ordinary flesh. Not the smallest trace 
 of a wrinkle was discernable on his brow, nor an approach to a 
 furrow on any part of his countenance. His health and 
 spirits, judging from appearances, were excellent; though at 
 this period it was generally believed in England, that he was 
 fast sinking under a complication of diseases, and that his 
 spirits were entirely gone. His manner of speaking was 
 rather slow than otherwise, and perfectly distinct; he waited 
 with great patience and kindness for my answers to his ques- 
 tions, and a reference to Count Bertrand was necessary only 
 once during the whole conversation. The brilliant and some- 
 times dazzling expression of his eye could not be overlooked. 
 It was not, however, a permanent lustre, for it was only re- 
 markable when he was excited by some point of particular in- 
 terest. It is impossible to imagine an expression of more en- 
 tire mildness, I may almost call it of benignity and kindliness, 
 than that which played over his features during the whole in- 
 terview. If, therefore, he were at this time out of health and 
 in low spirits, his power of self-command must have been 
 even more extraordinary than is generally supposed; for his 
 whole deportment, his conversation, and the expression of his 
 countenance, indicated a frame in perfect health and a mind 
 at ease. 
 
 The date of this meeting was 13th of August 1817. 
 
 Having now given some account of the general circum- 
 stances attending Buonaparte's residence in St. Helena, while 
 he enjoyed a considerable portion of health, of his mode of 
 living and amusements, we have to resume, in the next chap- 
 ter, the melancholy particulars of his decline of health, and 
 the few and unimportant incidents which occurred betwixt the 
 commencement of his sickness and its final termination. 
 
398 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, acu 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 Napoleon's Illness, Cancer in the Stomach. Removal of Las Cases from 
 St. Helena. Treatment of Napoleon brought forward in Parliament. — 
 Symptoms of his illness increases. Removal of Dr. O'Meara. Two 
 Catholic Priests sent to St. Helena. Napoleon's opinions 'on the sub- 
 ject of Religion. Antommarchi arrives to supply the place of Dr. 
 O'Meara. Plans for effecting Napoleon's escape. Scheme of John- 
 stone the Smuggler. Disturbed state of Italy, occasions fresh vigi- 
 lance. Disease increases. Napoleon employs himself in making his 
 Will* and gives Directions respecting his Decease. Extreme Unction 
 administered to him. His Death, 5th May 1821. Body Anatomized. 
 His Funeral. 
 
 Reports had been long current concerning the decline of 
 Buonaparte's health, even before the battle of Waterloo; and 
 many were disposed to impute his failure in that decisive 
 campaign, less to the superiority of his enemies than to the 
 decrease of his own habits of activity. There seems no room 
 for such a conclusion: the rapid manner in which he concen- 
 trated his army upon Charleroi, ought to have silenced such a 
 report for ever. He was subject occasionally to slight fits of 
 sleepiness, such as are incident to most men, especially after 
 the age of forty, who sleep ill, rise early, and work hard. — 
 When he landed at St. Helena, so far did he seem from show- 
 ing any appearance of declining health, that one of the Brit- 
 ish grenadiers, who saw him, exclaimed with his national oath, 
 " They told us he was growing old; — he has forty good cam- 
 paigns in his belly yet, d — n him." We have mentioned 
 Captain Hall's account of his apparent state of health in 
 summer 1817; that of Mr. Ellis, who visited St. Helena 
 about the same period, is similar, and he expresses his belief 
 that Buonaparte was never more able to undergo the fatigues 
 of a campaign than at the moment he saw him. It is proba- 
 ble, however, that he himself felt, even at that period, the 
 symptoms of that internal malady which consumed his life. — 
 It is now well known to have been the cruel complaint of 
 which his father died, a cancer in the stomach, of which he 
 had repeatedly expressed his apprehensions, both in Russia 
 and elsewhere. The progress of this disease, however, is 
 slow and insidious, if indeed it had actually commenced so 
 early as 1817. Gourgaud, at a much later period, avowed 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 399 
 
 himself a complete disbeliever of his illness. He allowed, 
 indeed, that he was in low spirits to such an extent as to talk 
 of destroying himself and his attached followers, by shutting 
 himself and them up in a small apartment with burning char- 
 coal—an easy death which Berthollet the chemist had, it 
 seems, recommended. Nevertheless, on the subject of Buo- 
 naparte's health, General Gourgaud stated that he was not, so 
 far as bodily health was concerned, in any degree materially 
 
 fl It 61*6(1 
 
 Yet, as before hinted, notwithstanding the belief of friends 
 and foes, it seems probable that the dreadful disease of which 
 Napoleon died, was already seizing upon the vitals, though 
 its character was not decisively announced by external symp- 
 toms. Dr. Arnott, surgeon to the 20th regiment, who attend- 
 ed on Napoleon's death-bed; has made the following observa- 
 tions upon this important subject: 
 
 u We are given to understand from great authority, that this 
 affection of the stomach cannot be produced without a con- 
 siderable prerI : sposition of the parts to disease. I will not 
 venture an opinion; but it is somewhat remarkable, that he 
 often said that his father died of scirrhus of the pylorus; that 
 the body was examined after death, and the fact ascertained. 
 His faithful followers, Count and Countess Bertrand, and 
 Count Montholon, have repeatedly declared the same to me. 
 If then it should be admitted that a previous disposition of 
 the parts to this disease did exist, might not the depressing 
 passions of the mind act as an exciting cause? It is more 
 than probable that Napoleon Bounaparte's mental sufferings 
 in St. Helena were very poignant. By a man of such un- 
 bounded ambition, and who once aimed at universal dominion, 
 captivity must have been severely felt." . -.: , 
 
 In November 1816, Napoleon sustained a loss to which he 
 must have been not a little sensible, in the removal ot Count 
 Las Cases from his society. The devoted attachment of the 
 Count to his person could not be doubted, and his age, and 
 situation as a civilian, made him less apt to enter into tnose 
 disputes, which sometimes, notwithstanding their general at- 
 tachment to Napoleon, seemed to have arisen among the mili- 
 tary officers of the household of Longwood. He was of a 
 literary turn, and qualified to converse upon general topics, 
 both of history and science. He had been an emigrant, and 
 understanding all the manoeuvres and intrigues of the ancient 
 Noblesse, had many narrations which Napoleon was not un- 
 willing to listen to. Above all, he received and recorded 
 
CAMPAIGNS'OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxx. 
 
 every thing which was said by Napoleon, with undoubting 
 iaith and unwearied assiduity. The count gave a substantial 
 mark, also, of his sincerity, in dedicating to his master's ser- 
 vice a sum of £4000, or thereabout, his whole private for- 
 tune, which was vested in the English funds. 
 
 For our misfortune, as also for his own, since he must have 
 considered his separation from Buonaparte as such, Count Las 
 Cases had been tempted into a line of conduct inconsistent 
 with the engagement he had come under with the other at- 
 tendants of the Ex-Emperor, not to hold secret communica- 
 tion beyond the verge of the island. The opportunity of a 
 servant of his own returning to England induced him to con- 
 fide to the domestic's charge a letter, written upon a piece of 
 white silk, that it might be the more readily concealed, which 
 was stitched into the lad's clothes. It was addressed to 
 Prince Lucien Buonaparte. As this was a transgression of 
 the conditions which Count Lases had promised to observe, 
 he was dismissed from the island and sent to the Cape of 
 Good Hope, and from thence to Europe. The abridgment 
 of the Count's stay at the island was much to be regreted, as 
 his journal forms the best record, not only of Napoleon's real 
 thoughts, but of the opinions which he desired should be re- 
 ceived as such. Unquestionably, the separation from this de- 
 voted follower added greatly to the disconsolate situation of 
 the exile of Longwood. 
 
 An effort was made by the accomplished and compassionate 
 advocate of Napoleon (Lord Holland) in the British Parlia- 
 ment, in 1817, to institute an inquiry into the personal treat- 
 ment of the ex-emperor, and to obtain some relaxation 'of the 
 restrictions upon their illustrious prisoner. Considerable de- 
 bate ensued, but the motion of Lord Holland was finally 
 negatived. There can be no doubt, that the failure of this 
 effort in the British Senate had a deep effect on Napoleon's 
 spirits, and may, perhaps, have aggravated that tendency to 
 disease in the stomach, which was suspected to have already 
 taken place. Nothing is better known, though perhaps few 
 things are more difficult to be satisfactorily explained, than 
 the mysterious connexion betwixt distress of mind and the ac- 
 tion of the digestive powers. Violent sickness is produced 
 on many persons by extreme and sudden affliction, and almost 
 every one feels the stomach more or less affected by that 
 which powerfully and painfully occupies the mind. Lord Hol- 
 land's kindness and compassion for so great a man, under 
 such severe circumstances, were shown by a variety of deli- 
 
Chap, xxx] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 401 
 
 cate attentions on his part and that of his lady, and that the 
 supplies of books and other articles sent by them through the 
 foreign office, where every facility was afforded for the con- 
 veyance, continued from time to time to give Napoleon as- 
 surance of their sympathy. But though he gratefully felt 
 their attentions, his distress of body, and perhaps of mind, 
 assumed a character incapable of receiving consolation. 
 
 The physician of Napoleon had till now enjoyed an easy 
 office. His health was naturally sound, and like many per- 
 sons who enjoy the same inestimable advantage, the ex-em- 
 peror doubted of the healing powers of medicines which he 
 never needed to use. Abstinence was his chief resource 
 against stomach complaints, when these began to assail him, 
 and the bath was frequently resorted to when the pangs be- 
 came more acute. He also held it expedient to change the 
 character of his way of living, when he felt affected with ill- 
 ness. If it bad been sedentary, he rode hard and took vio- 
 lent exercise; and if, on the contrary, he had been taking 
 more exercise than usual, he was accustomed to lay it aside 
 for prolonged repose. But more recently he had not the wish 
 to mount on horseback, or take exercise at all. 
 
 About the 25th of September, 1818, Napoleon's health 
 seems to have been seriously affected. f He complained much 
 of nausea, his legs swelled, and there were other unfavora- 
 ble symptoms, which induced his physician to tell him that he 
 was of a temperament which required much activity; that 
 constant exertion of mind and body was indispensable; and 
 that without exercise he must soon lose his health. He im- 
 mediately declared, that while exposed to the challenge of 
 sentinels, he would never take exercise, however necessary. 
 Dr. O'Meara proposed calling in the assistance of Dr. Bax- 
 ter, a medical gentleman of eminence on Sir Hudson Lowe's 
 staff. " He could but say the same as you do," said Napole- 
 on, "and recommend my riding abroad; nevertheless, as 
 long as the present system continues, I will never stir out." 
 At another time, he expressed the same resolution, and his de- 
 termination to take no medicines. Dr. O'Meara replied that, 
 if the disease should not be encountered by remedies in due 
 time, it would terminate fatally. " That which is written is 
 written, " said Napoleon, looking up. " Our days are reck- 
 oned." 
 
 The removal of Dr. O'Meara from Napoleon's person, 
 which was considered by him as a great injury, was the next 
 important incident in the monotony of his life It seems that 
 
402 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxx- 
 
 Dr. O'Meara had been for some time a confidant of Sir Hud- 
 son Lowe, and was recommended by him to ministers as a 
 person by whose means he could learn what passed in the 
 family of Napoleon. But in process of time, Dr. O'Meara, 
 growing perhaps more intimate with the prisoner, became un- 
 willing to supply the governor with the information which 
 he had formerly given, and a quarrel took place betwixt him 
 and Sir Hudson Lowe. Under these circumstances Dr. 
 O'Meara was withdrawn by the governor's mandate from at- 
 tending on the person of Napoleon, and sent back to England. 
 Napoleon complained severely when he was recalled from his 
 household; expressing his belief that the depriving him of 
 this medical attendant, was a direct and bold step in the plan 
 contrived for murdering him. 
 
 After this period, Napoleon expressed his determination, 
 whatever might be the extremity of his case, not to permit 
 the visits of an English physician; and a commission was 
 sent to Italy to obtain a medical man of reputation from some 
 of the seminaries in that country. At the same time, Na- 
 poleon signified a desire to have the company of a catholic 
 priest. The proposition for this purpose came through his 
 uncle, Cardinal Fesch, to the papal government, and receiv- 
 ed the assent of the British ministry. 
 
 It would appear that this mission had been thought by his 
 Holiness, to resemble, in some degree, those sent into foreign 
 and misbelieving countries, for two churchmen were despatch- 
 ed to St. Helena instead of one. The senior priest, Father 
 Bonavita, was an elderly man, subject to the infirmities be- 
 longing to his period of life, and broken by a residence of 
 twenty- six years in Mexico. His speech had been affected 
 by a paralytic stroke. His recommendation to the office 
 which he now undertook, was his having been Father Confes- 
 sor to Napoleon's mother. His companion was a young Abbe 
 called Vignali. Both were pious, good men, well qualified, 
 doubtless, to give Napoleon the comfort which their church 
 holds out to those who receive its tenets, but not so much so 
 to reclaim wanderers, or confirm those who might doubt the 
 doctrines of the church. 
 
 Argument or controversy, however, were not necessary. 
 Napoleon had declared his resolution to die in the faith of 
 his fathers. He was neither an*infidel, he said, nor a philoso- 
 pher. On various occasions, he expressed, with deep feel- 
 ings of devotion, his conviction of the existence of the Deity, 
 the great truth upon which the whole system of religion 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 403 
 
 rests; and this at a time when the doctrines of atheism and 
 materialism were generally current in France. Immediately 
 after his elevation to the dignity of First Consul, he meditated 
 the restoration of religion; and thus, in a mixture of feeling 
 and of policy, expressed himself upon the subject to Thiban- 
 deau, then a counsellor of state Having combated for a 
 long time the system of modern philosophers upon different 
 kinds of worship, upon deism, natural religion, and so forth, 
 he proceeded. u Last Sunday evening, in the general silence 
 of nature, I was walking in these grounds, (of Malmaison.) 
 The sound of the church-bell of Ruel fell upon my ear, and 
 renewed all the impressions of my youth. I was profound- 
 ly affected, such is the power of early habit and associations; 
 and I considered, if such was the case with me, what must 
 not be the effect of such recollections upon the more simple 
 and credulous vulgar? Let your philosophers answer that. — 
 The people must have a religion. " He went on to state the 
 terms on which he would negotiate with the Pope, and added, 
 {e They will say I am papist — I am no such thing. I was a 
 Mahomedan in Egypt — I will be a Catholic here, for the 
 good of the people. I do not believe in forms of religion, 
 but in the existence of a God!" He extended his hands to- 
 wards Heaven — " Who is it that has created all above and 
 around us?" This sublime passage proves that Napoleon 
 had at least crossed the threshold of the temple, and believed 
 in and worshipped the Great Father of the Universe. 
 
 The missionaries were received at St. Helena with civility, 
 and the rites of mas3 were occasionally performed at Long- 
 wood. Both the clergymen were quiet unobtrusive charac- 
 ters, confining themselves to their religious duties, and show- 
 ing neither the abilities nor the active and intriguing spirit 
 which Protestants are apt to impute to the Catholic, priest- 
 hood. 
 
 The same vessel which arrived at St. Helena on the 18th 
 of September, in 1819, with these physicians for the mind, 
 brought with them Dr. Antommarchi, anatomic pro-secutor 
 (that is, assistant to a professor of anatomy,) to the hospital 
 of St. Marie Neave of Florence, attached to the University 
 of Pisa, who was designed to supply the place about the pris- 
 oner's person, occupied by Dr. O'Meara, and after him pro- 
 visionally by Dr. Stokoe. He continued to hold the office till 
 Napolecn's death, and his account of the emperor's Last 
 Moments, a work in two volumes, is useful and entertain- 
 ing, as relating to the last days of so extraordinary a person, 
 
404 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xx* 
 
 Dr. Antommarchi seems to have been acceptable to Napoleon, 
 and the rather that he was a native of Corsica. He brought 
 also news from his family. The Princess Pauline Borghese 
 had offered to come to attend him. " Let her remain where 
 she is," said Napoleon; " I would not have her witness the 
 degrading state which I am reduced to, and the insults to 
 which I am subjected." 
 
 Schemes for Napoleon's escape were not wanting. A Col 
 onel Latapie, was said to be at the head of an attempt to 
 carry him off from St. Helena, which was to be undertaken 
 by a band of desperadoes. But Napoleon said, he knew too 
 well the character of such adventurers to hope to profit by 
 them. Government had other information of attempts to be 
 made from America, but none of them seem to have proceed- 
 ed to any serious length. 
 
 It was different with the undertaking of Johnstone, a smug- 
 gler of uncommonly resolute character, and whose life had 
 been a tissue of desperate risks. He had made a memora- 
 ble escape from Newgate, and had afterwards piloted Lord 
 Nelson's vessel to the attack of Copenhagen, when the ordi- 
 nary master of the fleet, and pilots, declined the task. John- 
 stone was also said to have meditated a bold attempt to carry 
 off Buonaparte on a former occasion, when he trusted him- 
 self on the water for the purpose of visiting Flushing. The 
 attempt was to have been made by Johnstone and his desper 
 ate associates in a boat, which they were to row across the 
 Scheldt, towards Flushing, just when Napoleon was proceed- 
 ing thither. They were to board the imperial barge, throw 
 every one save Napoleon into the sea, and, removing him to 
 their own light row-boat, were to pull out and deliver him up 
 to the British squadron, then cruising off the island. It is 
 added, that Napoleon took the alarm from seeing a boat rowing 
 very swiftly towards him, and, ordering his crew to pull hard- 
 er or give way, as it is called, the smuggler, instead of run- 
 ning athwart the barge, fell astern, and the opportunity was 
 lost. And now he certainly engaged in a plot to deliver Na- 
 poleon from St. Helena, of a very singular kind. A subma- 
 rine vessel, that is, a ship capable of being sunk under water 
 for a certain time, and of being raised again at pleasure, by 
 disengaging certain weights, was to be the means of effecting 
 this enterprise. It was thought that, by sinking the vessel 
 during the daytime, she might escape the notice of the Brit- 
 ish cruisers, and being raised at night, might approach the 
 guarded rock without discovery. The vessel was actually 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 405 
 
 begun in one of the building yards upon the Thames; but 
 the peculiarity of her construction having occasioned suspi- 
 cion, she was seized by the British government. 
 
 The complexion of the times, indeed, had now become 
 such as to strengthen every reason which existed for detain- 
 ing him in captivity. The state of England, owing to the 
 discontent and sufferings of the manufacturing districts, and 
 more especially that of Italy, convulsed by the short-lived 
 revolutions of Naples and Savoy, rendered the safe custody 
 of Napoleon a matter of more deep import than it had been 
 at any time since his fall. What the effect of his name might 
 have produced in that moment of general commotion cannot 
 be estimated, but the consequences of his escape must have 
 been most formidable. 
 
 The British ministry, aware of the power of such a spirit 
 to work among the troubled elements, anxiously enjoined ad- 
 ditional vigilance to the governor of St. Helena. 
 
 " The overthrow of the Neapolitan government, the revo- 
 lutionary spirit which more or less prevails over all Italy, and 
 the doubtful state of France itself, must excite his attention, 
 and clearly show that a crisis is fast approaching, if not al- 
 ready arrived, when his escape would be productive of im- 
 portant consequences. That his partisans are active cannot 
 be doubted; and if he be ever willing to hazard the attempt, 
 he will never allow such an opportunity to escape. You will, 
 therefore, exert all your attention in watching his proceedings, 
 and call upon the admiral to use his utmost vigilance, as upon 
 the navy so much must ultimately depend." 
 
 The alarm was natural, but there was no real cause for ap- 
 prehension. Politics and war were never more to know the 
 powerful influence of Napoleon Buonaparte. His lost hopes 
 aggravating the progress of the cruel disease, which had its 
 source in the stomach, it now affected the whole frame, and 
 undermined the strength of the constitution. Death was now 
 to terminate the fretful and degrading discussions, by which 
 he inflicted, and from which he received, so much pain, and 
 to open the gates of a prison, for which Hope herself could 
 scarce present another key. The symptoms of disorganiza- 
 tion in the digestive powers became more and more apparent, 
 and his reluctance to take any medicine, as if from instinc- 
 tive persuasion that the power of physic was in vain, continu- 
 ed as obstinate as ever. On one of the many disputes which 
 he maintained on this subject, he answered Antommarchi's 
 reasoning, thus — " Doctor, no physicking. We are, as I al- 
 
406 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap xxx. 
 
 ready told you, a machine made to live. We are organized 
 for that purpose, and such is our nature. Do not counteract 
 the living principle. Let it alone — leave it the liberty of de- 
 fending itself — it will do better than your drugs. Our body is 
 a watch, that is intended to go for a given time. The watch- 
 maker cannot open it; and must, on handling it, grope his way 
 blindfolded and at random. For once that he assists and re- 
 lieves it by dint of tormenting it with his crooked instruments, 
 he injures it ten times, and at last destroys it." This was on 
 the 14th of October, 1820. 
 
 As the ex-emperor's health grew weaker, it cannot be 
 thought extraordinary that his mind became more and more 
 depressed. In lack of other means of amusing himself, he 
 had been somewhat interested in the construction of a pond 
 and fountain in the garden of Longwood, which was stocked 
 with small fishes. A mixture of copperas in the mastick em- 
 ployed in cementing the basin, had affected the water. — 
 The creatures, which had been in a good measure the object 
 of Napoleon's attention, began to sicken and die. He was 
 deeply affected by the circumstance, and, in language strong- 
 ly resembling the beautiful verses of Moore, expressed his 
 sense of the fatality which seemed to attach itself to him.— 
 " Every thing I }ove — every thing that belongs to me," he 
 exclaimed, " is immediately struck. Heaven and mankind 
 unite to afflict me." At other times he lamented his decay 
 of energy The bed, he said, was now a place of luxury, 
 which he would not exchange for all the thrones in the uni- 
 verse. The eyes which formerly were so vigilant, could now 
 scarcely be opened. He recollected that he used to dictate 
 to four or five secretaries at once. " But then," he said " I 
 was Napoleon — now I am no longer anything — my strength, 
 my faculties, forsake me — I no longer live, 1 only exist." — 
 Often he remained silent for many hours, suffering as may be 
 supposed, much pain, and immersed in profound melancholy. 
 About the 22d of January 1821, Napoleon appeared to re- 
 sume some energy, and to make some attempt to conquer his 
 disease by exercise. He mounted his horse, and galloped for 
 the last time, five or six miles around the limits of Longwood, 
 but nature was overcome by the effort. He complained that 
 his strength was sinking under him rapidly. Towards the 
 end of February the disease assumed a character still more 
 formidable, and Dr. Antommarchi became desirous of obtain- 
 ing a consultation with some of the English medical men. — 
 The emperor's aversion to their assistance had been increas- 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 407 
 
 ed by an offer of the governor, announcing that a physician 
 of eminence had arrived in the island, whom he therefore 
 placed at Buonaparte's devotion. " He wants to deceive 
 Europe by false bulletins," said Napoleon; "I will not see 
 any one who is in communication with him." 
 
 At length the ex-emperor consented that Dr. Antommarchi 
 should consult with Dr. Arnott, surgeon of the 20th regiment. 
 But the united opinion of the medical gentlemen could not 
 overcome the aversion of Napoleon to medicine, or shake the 
 belief which he reposed in the doctrines of fatalism. " Quod 
 scriptum scriptum," he replied in the language of a Moslem, 
 " All that is to happen is written down. Our hour is mark- 
 ed, and it is not in our power to claim a moment longer of 
 life than Fate has predestined for us." 
 
 Dr. Antommarchi finally prevailed in obtaining admittance 
 for Dr. Arnott into the apartment and presence of the patient, 
 who complained chiefly of his stomach, of the disposition to 
 vomit, and deficiency of the digestive powers. He saw him 
 for the first time, on the 1st of April 1821, and continued his 
 visits regularly. Napoleon expressed his opinion that his liv- 
 er was affected. Dr. Arnott's observations led him to think, 
 that though the action of the liver might be imperfect, the seat 
 of the disease was to be looked for elsewhere. And here it 
 is to be remarked, that Napoleon, when Antommarchi express- 
 ed doubts on the state of his stomach, had repelled them with 
 sharpness, though his own private belief was, that he was af- 
 flicted with the disease of his father. Thus with a capricious 
 inconsistency, natural to a sick-bed, he communicated to some 
 of his retinue his sense of what disease afflicted him, though, 
 afraid perhaps of some course of medicine being proposed, 
 he did not desire that his surgeon should know his suspicions. 
 From the 15th to the 25th of April, Napoleon was engaged 
 from time to time in making his testamentary bequests. On 
 the day last mentioned, he was greatly exhausted by the fa- 
 tigue of writing, and showed symptoms of ovej-excitation.— • 
 Among these may be safely included, a plan which he spoke 
 of for reconciling all religious distentions in France, which 
 he said he had designed to carry into effect. 
 
 As the strength of the patient gradually sunk, the symp- 
 toms of his disease became less equivocal, until, on the 27th 
 of April, the ejection of a dark-colored fluid gave further in- 
 sight into the nature of the malady. Dr. Antommarchi per- 
 severed in attributing it to the climate, while Dr. Arnott ex- 
 pressed his belief that the disease was the same which cut off* 
 
CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxx. 
 
 his father in the pure air of Montpeliier. Upon the 28th of 
 April, Napoleon gave instructions to Antommarchi, that after 
 his death his body should be opened, but that no English 
 medical man should touch him, unless in the case of assist- 
 ance being absolutely necessary, in which case he gave An- 
 tommarchi leave to call in that of Dr. Arnott. He directed 
 that his heart should be conveyed to Parma, to Maria Louisa, 
 and requested anxiously that his stomach should be particu- 
 larly examined, and the report transmitted to his son. " The 
 vomitings," he said, " which succeed one another without in- 
 terruption, lead me to suppose that the stomach is, of all my 
 organs, the most diseased; and I am inclined to believe that 
 it is attacked with the same disorder which killed my father, 
 I mean a scirrhus in the pylorus." On the 2d of May, the 
 patient returned to the same interesting subject, reminding 
 Antommarchi of his anxiety that the stomach should be care- 
 fully examined. " The physicians of Montpeliier had an- 
 nounced that the scirrhus in the pylorus would be hereditary 
 in my family. Their report is, I believe in the hands of Lou- 
 is. Ask for it, and compare it with your own observa- 
 ions, that I may save my son from the sufferings I now experi- 
 ence." 
 
 During the 3d of May, it was seen that the life of Napole- 
 on was evidently drawing to a close; and his followers, and 
 particularly his physician, became desirous to call in more 
 medical assistance; — that of Dr. Shortt, physician to the 
 forces, and of Dr. Mitchell, surgeon of the flag-ship, was re- 
 ferred to. Dr. Short, however, thought it proper to assert 
 the dignity belonging to his profession, and refused to give an 
 opinion on a case of so much importance in itself, and attend- 
 ed with so much obscurity, unless he were permitted to see 
 and examine the patient. The officers of Napoleon's house- 
 hold excused themselves, by professing that the emperor's 
 strict commands had been laid on them, that no English 
 physician, Dr. Arnott excepted, should approach his dying 
 bed. They said, that even when he was speechless, they 
 would be unable to brook his eye, should he turn it upon 
 them in reproof for their disobedience. 
 
 About two o'clock of the same day, the priest Vignali ad- 
 ministered the sacrament of extreme unction. Some days 
 before, Napoleon had explained to him the manner in which 
 he desired his body should be laid out in state, in an apart- 
 ment lighted by torches, or what Catholics call l un chambre 
 ardente.' " I am neither," he said, in the same phrase which 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 409 
 
 we have formerly quoted, " a philosopher nor a physician. I 
 believe in God, and am of the religion of my father. It is 
 not everybody who can be an atheist. I was born a Catholic, 
 and will fulfil all the duties of the Catholic Church, and re- 
 ceive the assistance which it administers." He then turned 
 to Dr. Antommarchi, whom he seems to have suspected of 
 heterodoxy, which the doctor however, disowned. " How can 
 you carry it so far?" he said. " Can you not believe in God, 
 whose existence everything proclaims, and in whom the great- 
 est minds have believed?" 
 
 A dreadful storm of wind and rain swept the island on the 
 4th of May, which preceded the day that was to close the mor- 
 tal existence of this extraordinary man. A willow, which had 
 been the exile's favorite, and under which he had often enjoy- 
 ed the fresh breeze, was torn up by the hurricane; and almost 
 aiiThe trees about Longwood shared the same fate. The 5th 
 of May came amid wind and rain. Napoleon's passing spirit 
 was deliriously engaged in a strife more terrible than that of 
 the elements around. The words " tete d'armee," the last 
 which escaped his lips, intimated that his thoughts were 
 watching the current of a heavy fight. About eleven minutes 
 before six in the evening, Napoleon, after a struggle which 
 indicated the original strength of his constitution, breathed 
 
 HIS LAST. 
 
 General Bertrand and Montholon, with Marchand, the va- 
 let-de-chambre of the deceased, were present at the opera- 
 tion of dissecting the body, which was also witnessed by Sir 
 Thomas Reade and some British staff-officers. Drs. Thomas 
 Shortt, Archibald Arnott, Charles Mitchell, Matthew Living- 
 stone and Francis Burton, all of them medical men, were also 
 present. The cause of death was sufficiently evident. A 
 large ulcer occupied almost the whole of the stomach. It 
 was only the strong adhesion of the diseased parts of that 
 organ to the concave surface of the lobe of the liver, which, 
 being over the ulcer, had prolonged the t ^tient's life by pre- 
 venting the escape of the contents of the sumach into the 
 cavity of the abdomen. All the other parts of the viscera 
 were found in a tolerably healthy state. The report was 
 signed by the British medical gentlemen present. 
 
 The gentlemen of Napoleon's suite were desirous that his 
 heart should be preserved and given to their custody. But 
 Sir Hudson Lowe did not feel himself at liberty to permit this 
 
 18 
 
410 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap.xxz. 
 
 upon his own authority. He agreed, however, that the heart 
 should be placed in a silver vase, filled with spirits, and inter- 
 red along with the body; so that, in case his instructions from 
 home should so permit, it might be afterwards disinhumed and 
 sent to Europe. 
 
 The place of interment became the next- subject of discus- 
 sion. Napoleon's testamentary disposition expressed a wish 
 that his remains should be deposited on the banks of the 
 Seine; a request which could not be complied with. A grave 
 for the Emperor of France, within the limits of the rocky isl- 
 and to which his last years were limited, was the alternative 
 that remained; and sensible that this was likely to be thfr 
 case, he had himself indicated the s*pot where he wished to lie. 
 It was a small secluded recess, called Slane's Valley, where a 
 fountain arose, at which his Chinese domestics used to fill the 
 silver pitchers which they carried to Longwood for Napole- 
 on's use. The spot had more of verdure and shade than any 
 in the neighborhood; and the illustrious exile was often ac- 
 customed to repose under the beautiful weeping willows 
 which overhung the spring. The body, after lying in state 
 in his small bed-room, during which time it was visited by 
 every person of condition in the island, was on the 8th of 
 May, carried to the place of interment. The pall which cov- 
 ered the coffin was the military cloak which Napoleon had 
 worn at the battle of Marengo. The members of his late 
 household attended as mourners, and were followed by the 
 governor, the admiral and all the civil and military authori- 
 ties of the island. All the troops were under arms upon this 
 solemn occasion. As the road did not permit a near ap- 
 proach of the hearse to the place of sepulture, a party of 
 British grenadiers had the honor to bear the coffin to the 
 grave. The prayers were recited by the priest Abbe Vignali. 
 Minute guns were fired from the admiral's ship. The coffin 
 was then let down into the grave, under a discharge of three 
 successive volleys of artillery, fifteen pieces of cannon firing 
 fifteen guns each. A large stone was then lowered down on 
 the grave ? and cove^d the moderate space now sufficient for 
 the man for v Jvin Europe was once too little. 
 
 FUNERAL PROCESSION. 
 
 Napoleon Bertrand, son of the The priests in full 
 
 marshal. robes. 
 
 Dr. Arnott, 20th regt. Buonaparte's physician. 
 
Chap.xxx.1 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 411 
 
 C THE BODY 
 
 Grenadiers. < in a car drawn by > Grenadiers. 
 
 [24 grenadiers — 12 on each side, to carry the body 
 down a steep hill, where the car could not go.] 
 Count Montho- ( Buonaparte's horse, ) Marshal Ber- 
 lon. .( led by two servants. ) trand. 
 
 Servants. \ Mad -. Bertrand «"d daughter, i Servantg 
 
 I in an open vehicle J 
 
 Servants. 
 
 Naval Officers. 
 
 Staff Officers. 
 
 Members of Council. 
 
 Gen. Coffin. Marq. de Montcheno. 
 
 The Admiral. The Governor. 
 
 Servants. \ Lad ? Low and daughter, ) Servants> 
 ( in an open vehicle. ) 
 
 Servants. 
 
 Dragoons. 
 
 St. Helena Volunteers. 
 
 St. Helena Regiment. 
 
 St. Helena Artillery. 
 
 Sixty-sixth Regiment. 
 
 Royal Marines. 
 
 Twentieth Regiment. Royal Artillery. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Arrived at the conclusion of this momentous narrative, 
 the reader may be disposed to pause a moment to reflect on the 
 character of that wonderful person, on whom fortune shower- 
 ed so many favors in the beginning and through the middle of 
 his career, to overwhelm its close with such deep and unwont- 
 ed afflictions. 
 
 The external appearance of Napoleon was not imposing at 
 the first glance, his stature being only five feet six inches 
 English His person, thin in youth, and somewhat corpulent 
 in age, was rather delicate than robust in outward appearance, 
 but cast in the mould most capable of enduring privation and 
 fatigue. He rode ungracefully, and without the command of 
 his horse, which distinguishes a perfect cavalier; so that he 
 showed to disadvantage when riding beside such a horseman 
 
412 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xix. 
 
 as Murat. But he was fearless, sat firm in his seat, rode 
 with rapidity, and was capable of enduring the exercise for a 
 longer time than most men. We have already mentioned his 
 indifference to the quality of his food, and his power of en- 
 during abstinence. A morsel of food, and a flask of wine 
 hung at his saddle-bow, used, in his earlier campaigns, to 
 support him for days. In his latter wars, he used a carriage 
 more frequently; not, as has been surmised, from any par- 
 ticular illness, but from feeling in a frame so constantly in 
 exercise, the premature effects of age. 
 
 The countenance of Napoleon is familiar to almost every 
 one from description, and the portraits which are found every- 
 where. The dark brown hair bore little marks of the atten- 
 tions of the toilette. The shape of the countenance ap- 
 proached more than is usual in the human race, to a square. 
 His eyes were gray, and full of expression, the pupils were 
 rather large, and the eyebrows not very strongly marked. — 
 The brow and upper part of the countenance was rather of a 
 stern character. His nose and mouth were beautifully form- 
 ed. The upper lip was very short. The teeth were indiffer- 
 ent, but were little shown in speaking. His smile possessed 
 uncommon sweetness, and is stated to have been irresistible. 
 The complexion was a clear olive, otherwise in general color- 
 less. The prevailing character of his countenance was grave, 
 even to melancholy, but without any signs of severity or vio- 
 lence. After death, the placidity and dignity of expression 
 which continued to occupy the features, rendered them emi- 
 nently beautiful, and the admiration of all who looked upon 
 him. 
 
 Such was Napoleon's exterior. His personal and private 
 character were decidedly amiable, excepting in one particular. 
 His temper, when he received, or thought he received provo- 
 cation, especially if of a personal character, was warm and 
 vindictive. He was, however, placable in the case even of 
 his enemies, provided that they submitted to his mercy; and 
 no one was a more liberal rewarder of the attachment of his 
 friends. He was an excellent husband, a kind relation, and, 
 unless when state policy intervened, a most affectionate broth- 
 er. General Gourgaud, whose communications were not in 
 every case to Napoleon's advantage, states him to have been 
 the best of masters, laboring to assist all his domestics where* 
 ever it lay in his power, giving them the highest credit for 
 such talents as they actually possessed, and imputing in some 
 instances, good qualities to such as had them not, 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON, 413 
 
 There was gentleness, and even sensibility, in his charac- 
 ter. He was affected when he rode over the field of battle, 
 which his ambition had strewed with the dead and the dying, 
 and seemed not only desirous to relieve the victims, issuing 
 for that purpose directions which too often were not, and 
 could not, be obeyed, but subject to the influence of that 
 more acute and imaginative species of sympathy which is 
 termed sensibility. He mentions a circumstance which indi- 
 cates a deep sense of feeling. As he passed over a field of 
 battle in Italy, he saw a houseless dog lying on the body of 
 his slain master. The creature came towards them, then re- 
 turned to the dead body, moaned over it pitifully, and seemed 
 to ask their assistance. " Whether it were the feeling of the 
 moment," continued Napoleon, u the scene, the hour or the 
 circumstance itself, I was never so deeply affected by any 
 thing which I have seen upon a field of battle. That man, I 
 thought, has perhaps had a house, friends, and comrades, and 
 here he lies deserted by every one but his dog. How mys- 
 terious are the impressions to which we are subject! I was 
 in the habit, without emotion, of ordering battles which must 
 decide the fate of a campaign, and could look with a dry eye 
 on the execution of manoeuvres which must be attended with 
 much loss, and here I was moved — nay, painfully affected — 
 by the cries and grief of a dog. It is certain that at that mo- 
 ment I would have been more accessible to a suppliant ene- 
 my, and could better understand the conduct of Achilles in 
 restoring the body of Hector to the tears of Priam." The 
 anecdote at once shows that Napoleon possessed a heart 
 amenable to human feelings, and that they were usually in to- 
 tal subjection to the stern precepts of military stoicism. It 
 was his common and expressive phrase, that the heart of a 
 politician should be in his head, but his feelings sometimes 
 surprised him in a gentler mood. 
 
 A calculator by nature and by habit, Napoleon was fond of 
 order, and a friend to that moral conduct in which order is 
 best exemplified. The libels of the day have made some 
 scandalous averments to the contrary, but without adequate 
 foundation. Napoleon respected himself too much, and un- 
 derstood the value of public opinion too well, to have plung- 
 ed into general or vague debauchery. 
 
 Considering his natural disposition, then, it may be assum- 
 ed that if Napoleon had continued in the vale of private life, 
 and no strong temptation of passion or revenge crossed his 
 path, he must have been generally regarded as one whose 
 
414 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxx. 
 
 friendship was every way desirable, and whose enmity it was 
 not safe to incur. 
 
 But the opportunity afforded by the times, and the elastici- 
 ty of his own great talents both military and political, raised 
 him with unexampled celerity to a sphere of great power, and 
 at least equal temptation. 
 
 The consequences of the Revolution, however fatal to pri- 
 vate families, were the means of filling the camps of the na- 
 tion with armies of a description which Europe had never 
 seen before. There was neither safety, honor nor almost sub- 
 sistence, in any other profession, and accordingly it became 
 the refuge of the best and bravest of the youth of France, 
 until the army ceased to consist, as in most nations, of the 
 miserable and disorderly class of the community, but was 
 levied in the body and bosom of the state, and composed of 
 the flower of France, whether as regarded health, moral 
 qualities or elevation of mind. With such men the generals 
 of the republic achieved many and great victories, but with- 
 out being able to ensure corresponding advantages. This 
 may have been in a great measure Occasioned by the depen- 
 dence in which the generals were held by the administrators 
 of the republic at home — a dependence accounted for by the 
 necessity of having recourse to the government of Paris for 
 the means of paying and supporting their armies. From the 
 time that Napoleon passed the Alps, he inverted this state of 
 military dependence, and made the newly conquered countries 
 not only maintain the army by means of contributions and 
 confiscations, but even contribute to support the French gov- 
 ernment. Thus war, which had hitherto been a burden to 
 the republic, became in his hands a source of public revenue; 
 whilst the youthful general, contributing to the income of the 
 state, on which his predecessors had been dependent, was en- 
 abled to assert the independence at which he speedily aimed, 
 and correspond with the directory upon a footing approaching 
 to equality. His talents as a soldier, and situation as a victo- 
 rious general, soon raised him from equality to pre-eminence. 
 
 These talents applied not less to the general arrangements 
 of the campaign, than to the dispositions for actual battle. — 
 In each of these great departments of war, Napoleon was not 
 merely a pupil of the most approved masters of the art. — he 
 was an improver, an innovator and an inventer. 
 
 In strategic, he applied upon a gigantic scale, those princi- 
 ples which Frederick of Prussia had acted upon, and gained a 
 capital or a kingdom, when Frederick would have won a town 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 415 
 
 or a province. His system was, of course, that of assem- 
 bling the greatest possible force of his own upon the vulnera- 
 ble point of the enemy's position, paralyzing, perhaps, two 
 parts of their army, whilst he cut the third to pieces, and then 
 following up his position by destroying the remainder in de- 
 tail. For this purpose, he taught generals to divide their ar- 
 mies upon the march, with a view to celerity of movement, 
 and facility of supply, and to unite them at the moment of 
 contest, where an attack would be most feebly resisted, be- 
 cause least expected. For this, also, he first threw aside all 
 species of baggage which could possibly be dispensed with — 
 supplied the want of magazines by the contributions exacted 
 from the country, or collected from individuals by a regular 
 system of marauding — discontinued the use of tents, and 
 trusted to bivouacking with his soldiers, where hamlets could 
 not be found, and there was no time to erect huts. His sys- 
 tem was ruinous in point of lives, for even the military hos- 
 pitals were often dispensed with. But although Moreau term- 
 ed Napoleon a conqueror at the rate of ten thousand men a 
 day, yet the sacrifice for a length of time uniformly attained 
 the object for which it was designed. The enemy who had 
 remained in their extensive cantonments, distracted by the re- 
 port s of various columns moving in different directions, were 
 surj rised and defeated by the united force of the French , 
 whi( h had formed a junction where and when it was least ex- 
 pect ed. It was not till they had learned the art of withdi* - 
 ing from his attack so soon as made, that the allies learned to 
 defeat the efforts of his moveable columns. 
 
 Napoleon was not less original as a tactician than as a stra- 
 tegist. His manoeuvres on the field of battle had the prompt- 
 ness and decision of the thunderbolt. In the actual shock of 
 conflict, as in his preparations which he had made for bring- 
 ing it on, his object was to amuse the enemy upon many 
 points, while he oppressed one by an unexpected force of 
 numbers. The breaking through the line, the turning of a 
 flank, which had been his object from the commencement of 
 the fight, lay usually disguised under a great number of pre- 
 vious demonstrations, and was not attempted until both the 
 moral and physical force of the enemy was impaired by the 
 length of the combat. It was at this period that he brought 
 up his guards, who, impatient of inactivity, had been held in 
 readiness for hours, and now, springing forward like wolf- 
 dogs from the leash, had the glorious task, in which they 
 rarely failed, of deciding the long-sustained contest. It may 
 
416 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap. xxx. 
 
 be added, as characteristic of his tactics, that he preferred 
 employing the order of the column to that of the line, per- 
 haps on account of the faith which he might rest in the ex- 
 treme valor of the French officers by whom the column was 
 headed. 
 
 The interest which Napoleon preserved in the French sol- 
 dier's affection by a frequent distribution of prizes and dis- 
 tinctions, as well as by his familiar notice of their persons, 
 and attending to their wants, joined to his possession of abso- 
 lute and independent command, rendered it no difficult matter 
 for him to secure their support in the revolution of the eigh- 
 teenth Brumaire, and in placing him at the head of affairs. — 
 Most part of the nation were heartily tired by this time of the 
 continually unsettled state of the government, and the various 
 changes which it had experienced from the visionary specu- 
 lations of the Girondists, the brutal and bloody ferocity of the 
 Jacobins, the sordid and undecided versatility and imbecility 
 of the Directory; and the nation in general desired a settled 
 form of government, which, if less free, should be more stable 
 in duration, and better calculated to assure to individuals the 
 protection of property and personal freedom, than those which 
 had followed the downfall of the monarchy. A successful gen- 
 eral of a character more timid, or conscience more tender than 
 that of Napoleon, might have attempted the restoration of 
 the Bourbans. But Napoleon foresaw the difficulties which 
 would occur by an attempt to reconcile the recal of the emi- 
 grants to the assurance of the national sales, and aptly con- 
 cluded that the parties which tore France to pieces, would be 
 most readily amalgamated together under the authority of 
 one who was in a great measure a stranger to them all. 
 
 Arrived at the possession of supreme power, a height that 
 dazzles and confounds so many, Napoleon seemed only to oc- 
 cupy the station for which he was born, to which his peculiar 
 powers adapted him, and his brilliant career of success gave 
 him, under all circumstances, an irresistible claim. He con- 
 tinued, therefore, with a calm mind and enlightened wisdom, to 
 consider the means of rendering his power stable, of destroying 
 the republican impulse, and establishing a monarchy, of which 
 he destined himself to be the monarch. To most men the at- 
 tempt to revive a government, which had been rejected by 
 what seemed the voice of the nation with universal acclaim, 
 would have seemed an act of desperation. The partizans of 
 the republic were able statesmen, and men of superior talent, 
 accustomed also to rule the fierce democracy, and organize 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 417 
 
 those intrigues, which had overthrown crown and altar. It 
 was hardly to be supposed that such men would, were it but 
 for shame's sake, have seen their ten years 3 labor at once 
 swept away by the sword of a young though successful gen- 
 eral. 
 
 But Napoleon knew himself and them, and felt the confi- 
 dence that those who had been associates in the power ac- 
 quired by former revolutions, must be now content to sink in 
 to the instruments of his advancement, and the subordinate 
 agents of his authority, contented with such a share of spoil 
 as that with which the lion rewards the jackall. 
 
 To the kingdom at large, upon every new stride towards 
 power, he showed the certificate of superior efficacy, guaran- 
 teed by the most signal success; and he assumed the empire 
 of France under the proud title l Detur dignissimo.' In prac- 
 tice, his government was brilliant abroad, and, with few ex- 
 ceptions, liberal and moderate at home. The murder of 
 the Duke d' Enghien showed a vindictive spirit, but in gen- 
 eral the public actions of Napoleon, at the commencement of 
 his career, were highly laudable. The battle of Marengo, 
 with its consequences, the softening of civil discord, the re- 
 conciliation with the church of Rome, the recall of the great 
 body of the emigrants, the revivification of National Juris- 
 prudence, were all events calculated to flatter the imagination, 
 and even gain the affections of the nation. 
 
 But with a dexterity peculiar to himself, Napoleon proceed- 
 ed, while abolishing the republic, to press into his service 
 those very democratical principles which had given rise to the 
 revolution, and encouraged the attempts to found a common- 
 wealth. His sagacity had not failed to observe, that the 
 popular objections to the ancient government were founded 
 less upon any objection to the royal authority in itself, than 
 to a dislike, amounting to detestation, of the privileges which 
 it allotted to the nobles and to the clergy, who held, from 
 birth and office, the right to fill the superior ranks in every 
 profession, and barred the competition of all others, however su- 
 perior in merit. When, therefore, Napoleon constructed his 
 new form of monarchical government, he wisely considered 
 that he was not like hereditary monarchs, tied down to any par- 
 ticular rules, arising out of ancient usage, but being himself 
 creator of the power which he wielded, he was at liberty to 
 model it according to his own pleasure. He had been raised 
 so easily to the throne, by the general acknowledgment of his 
 merits, that he did not need the assistance of a party of his 
 
 18* 
 
418 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Chap, xxx, 
 
 own; consequently, being unlimited by previous engagements, 
 and by the necessity of gratifying old partisans or acquiring 
 new ones, his choice was in a very unusual degree free and 
 unlimited 
 
 Having, sherefore, attained the summit of human power, 
 he proceeded advisedly and deliberately, to lay the founda- 
 tion of his throne on that democratic principle which had 
 opened his own career and which was the throwing open to 
 merit, though without further title, the road to success in 
 every department of the state. This was the secret key of 
 Napoleon's policy, and he was so well aided in the use of it, by 
 acute perception of character, as well as by good nature and 
 good feeling, (both of which, in his cooler moments, he pos- 
 sessed;) that he never, through all his vicissitudes, lost an 
 opportunity of conciliating and pleasing the multitude by 
 evincing a well-timed attention to distinguish and reward tal- 
 ent To this his discourse perpetually alluded; and for this 
 he claims, and is entitled to, the highest praise. We have 
 little hesitation in naming the opening a full career to talent 
 of every kind, as the key-stone of his reputation, the main 
 foundation of his power. 
 
 His favorite saying during the continuance of his power 
 was, "I am the state;" and in the exile of St. Helena he con* 
 stantly talked of himself as having been, from necessity, the 
 dictator of France. The whole territory was divided into 
 prefectures — each prefect being appointed by Napoleon — 
 carefully selected for a province with which he had no domes- 
 tic relations — largely paid — and intrusted with such a com- 
 plete delegation of power that, in Napoleon's own language, 
 each was in his department an < empereur a petit pied.' Each 
 of these officers had under his entire control inferior local 
 magistrates, holding power from him as he did from the em- 
 peror; each of them had his instructions direct from Paris; 
 each of them was bound by every motive of interest to serve, 
 to the utmost of his ability, the government from which every 
 thing was derived, to be hoped for, and to be dreaded. — 
 Wherever the emperor was, in the midst of his hottest cam- 
 paigns, he examined the details of administration at home 
 more closely than, perhaps, any other sovereign of half so 
 great an empire did during, the profoundest peace. It was 
 said of him that his dearest amusement, when he had nothing 
 else to do, was to solve problems in algebra or geometry. — 
 He carried this passion into every department of affairs; and 
 having with his own eye, detected some errors of importance 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 419 
 
 in the public accounts, shortly after his administration begun, 
 there prevailed thenceforth in all the financial records of the 
 state such clearness and accuracy as are not often exempli- 
 fied in a large private fortune. Nothing was below his at- 
 tention, and he found time for every thing. The humblest 
 functionary discharged his duty under a lively sense of the 
 emperor's personal superintendence; and the omnipresence 
 of his police came in lieu, wherever politics were not touched 
 upon, of the guarding powers of a free press, a free senate, 
 and public opinion. Except in political cases, the trial by 
 jury was the right of every citizen. The £ Code Napoleon,' 
 that elaborate system of jurisprudence, in the formation of 
 which fne emperor labored personally along with the most 
 eminent lawyers and enlightened men of the time, was a boon 
 of inestimable value to France. " I shall go down to posteri- 
 ty," said he, with just pride, " with the code in my hand." It 
 was the first uniform system of laws which the French mon- 
 archy had ever possessed; and being drawn up with consum- 
 mate skill and wisdom, it at this day forms the code, not only 
 of France, but of a great portion of Europe besides. Jus- 
 tice, as between man and man, was administered on sound 
 and fixed principles, and by unimpeached tribunals. The ar- 
 bitrary commission courts of Napoleon interfered with noth- 
 ing but offences, real or alleged, against the authority of the 
 emperor. 
 
 The clergy were, as we have seen, appointed universally 
 under the direction of government; they were also its direct 
 stipendiaries; hence nothing could be more complete than 
 their subjection to its pleasure. Eduction became a part of 
 the regular business of the state; all the schools and colleges 
 being placed under the immediate care of one of Napoleon's 
 ministers, all prizes and bursaries bestowed by the govern- 
 ment, and the whole system so arranged, that it was hardly 
 possible for any youth who exhibited remarkable talents to 
 avoid the temptations to a military career, which on every 
 side surrounded him. The chief distinctions and emoluments 
 were every where reserved for those who excelled in accom- 
 plishments likely to be serviceable in war; and the Lyceums, 
 or schools set expressly apart for military students, were in- 
 vested with numberless attractions, scarcely to be resisted by 
 a young imagination. The army was at all times the primary 
 object of his thoughts. Every institution of the state was 
 subservient and ministered to it, and none more efficaciously 
 than the imperial system of education. 
 
420 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. [Crap. xxx. 
 
 The ranks of the army, however, were filled during the 
 whole reign of Napoleon by compulsion. The conscription 
 law of 1798 acquired under him the character of a settled 
 and regular part of the national system; and its oppressive 
 influence was such as never before exhausted, through a long 
 term of years, the best energies of a great and civilized peo- 
 ple. Every male in France, under the age of twenty-five, 
 was liable to be called on to serve in the ranks; and the regu- 
 lations as to the procuring of substitutes were so narrow, that 
 young men of the best families were continually forced to 
 comply, in their own persons, with the stern requisition. The 
 first conscription-list for the year included all under the age 
 of twenty; and the results of the ballot within this class 
 amounted to nearly 80,000 names. These were first called 
 on: but if the service of the emperor demanded further sup- 
 ply, the lists of those aged twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty- 
 four, and twenty-five, were successively resorted to. There 
 was no exemption for any one who seemed able to bear arms. 
 The only child of his parents, the young husband and father, 
 were forced, like any others, to abandon fireside, profession, 
 all the ties and all the hopes of life, on a moment's notice: 
 and there is nothing in the history of modern Europe so re- 
 markable, as that the French people should have submitted, 
 during sixteen years, to the constant operation of a despotic 
 law, which thus sapped all the foundations of social happiness, 
 and condemned the rising hopes of the nation to bleed and 
 die by millions in distant wars. On the other hand, it is not 
 to be denied that the— great majority of the conscripts, with 
 whatever reluctance tney might enter the ranks, were soon 
 reconciled to their fate. The avenues to promotion, distinc- 
 tion, wealth, honor, nobility, even royal dignity, were all open 
 before the devoted and successful soldiers of Napoleon; and 
 the presence of so many youths of good condition and educa- 
 tion, among the ranks of the private soldiery, could not fail, 
 first, to render that situation immeasurably less irksome than 
 it otherwise could have been to each individual of that class, 
 and secondly, to elevate the standard of manners and acquire- 
 ments among the soldiery generally. There never was an 
 army in whose ranks intelligence so largely abounded; nor 
 in which so many officers of the highest rank had originally 
 carried a musket. 
 
 The taxation rendered necessary by the constant wars of 
 Napoleon was great; and the utter destruction of the foreign 
 commerce and marine of France, which the naval supremacy 
 
Chap, xxx.] CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON. 421 
 
 of England effected, made the burden the more intolerable 
 for various important classes of the community. On the oth- 
 er hand, the taxes were levied fairly on the whole population, 
 which presented a blessed contrast to the system of the old 
 regime; and the vast extension and improvement of agricul- 
 ture consequent on the division of the great estates at the 
 revolution, enabled the nation at large to meet the calls of the 
 government with much less difficulty than could have been 
 anticipated at any former period of French history. JNapole- 
 on's great public works, too, could not be executed without 
 furnishing subsistence to vast bodies of the laboring poor, 
 and were thus serviceable to more important ends. From his 
 attempts to supply the want of English manufactured goods 
 and colonial produce, by new establishments and inventions 
 (such especially as that of manufacturing a substitute for 
 sugar out of beet root,) partial good, in like manner resulted. 
 
 The evils of the conscription, of a heavy taxation, of an 
 inquisitorial police, and of a totally enslaved press — were en- 
 dured for so many years chiefly in consequence of the skill 
 with which Napoleon knew " to play on the imagination," 
 and gratify the vanity of the French people. In the splen- 
 dor of his victories, in the magnificence of his roads, bridges, 
 aqueducts, and other monuments, in the general pre-eminence 
 to which the nation seemed to be raised through the genius of 
 its chief, compensation was found for all financial burdens, 
 consolation for domestic calamities, and an equivalent for that 
 liberty in whose name he had achieved his first glories. But 
 it must not be omitted that Napoleon in every department of 
 government, made it his first rule to employ the men best fit- 
 ted, in his mind, to do honor to his service by their talents 
 and diligence; and that he thus attached to himself, through- 
 out the whole of his empire, as well as in his army, the hopes 
 and the influence of those whose personal voices were most 
 likely to control the opinions of society. 
 
 He gratified the French nation by adorning the capital, 
 and by displaying in the Tuilleries a court as elaborately 
 magnificent as that of Louis XIV himself. The old nobility, 
 returning from their exile, mingled in those proud halls with 
 the heroes of the revolutionary campaigns; and over all the 
 ceremonials of these stately festivities Josephine presided 
 with the grace and elegance of one born to be a queen. In 
 the midst of the pomp and splendor of a court, in whose ante- 
 chambers kings jostled each other, Napoleon himself preserved 
 the plain and unadorned simplicity of his original dress and 
 
422 CAMPAIGNS OF NAPOLEON [Chap.xxx. 
 
 manners. The great emperor continued throughout to labor 
 more diligently than any subaltern in office. He devoted 
 himself wholly to the ambition to which he compelled all oth- 
 ers to contribute. 
 
 Napoleon, as emperor, had little time for social pleasures. 
 His personal friends were few\ his days were given to labor, 
 and his nights to study. If he was not with his army in the 
 field, he traversed the provinces, examining with his own 
 eyes into the minutest details of local arrangement; and even 
 from the centre of his camp he was continually issuing edicts 
 which showed the accuracy of his observation during these 
 journeys, and his anxiety to promote by any means, consis- 
 tent with his great purpose, the welfare of some French dis- 
 trict, town, or even village. 
 
 He gave to France a regular government, schools, institu- 
 tions, courts of justice, and a code of laws. In Italy, his 
 rule was equally splendid and beneficial. The good effects 
 which arose to other countries from his reign and character, 
 begin also to be felt. His invasions tending to reconcile the 
 discords which existed in many states between the governor 
 and governed, by teaching them to unite together against a 
 common enemy, have tended to loosen the feudal yoke, en- 
 lightened the mind both of prince and people, and led to many 
 admirable results, which will not be the less durably advanta- 
 geous, that they have arisen and are arising slowly, and with- 
 out contest. 
 
 In bidding adieu to the subject of Napoleon we are called 
 upon to observe that he was a man tried in the two extremi- 
 ties of the most exalted power and the most, ineffable calami- 
 ty; and it is scarce within the capacity of those whose steps 
 *have never led them beyond the middle path of life to esti- 
 mate either the strength of the temptations to which he yield- 
 ed, or the force of mind which he opposed to those which he 
 was able to resist. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 BUONAPARTE'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT. 
 
 NAPOLEON. 
 
 This 15th April, 1821, at Longivood, Island of St. Helena. This 
 is my Testament, or act of my last Will. 
 
 1. I die in the apostolical Roman religion, in the bosom of 
 which Pwas born, more than fifty years since. 
 
 2. It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of 
 the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have 
 loved so well. 
 
 3. I have always had reason to be pleased with my dearest 
 wife, Maria Louisa. I retain for her to my last moment, the 
 most tender sentiments — I beseech her to watch, in order to 
 preserve my son from the snares which yet environ his in- 
 fancy. 
 
 4. I recommend to my son, never to forget that he was 
 born a French Prince, and never to allow himself to become 
 an instrument in the hands of the triumvirs who oppress the 
 nations of Europe; he ought never to fight against France, 
 or to injure her in any manner; he ought to adopt my motto 
 — u Every thing for the French people." 
 
 5. I die prematurely, assassinated by the English oligarchy 
 * •* *. The English nation will not be slow in avenging me. 
 
 6. I thank my good and most excellent mother, the Cardinal, 
 my brothers Joseph, Lucien, Jerome, Pauline, Caroline, Ju- 
 lie, Hortense, Catarine, Eugene, for the interest which they 
 have continued to feel for me. I pardon Louis for the libel 
 which he published in 1820: it is replete with false assertions 
 and falsified documents. 
 
 7. I disavow the, " Manuscript of St. Helena," and other 
 works under the title of Maxims, sayings, &c. which persons 
 
11 APPENDIX 
 
 have been pleased to publish for the last six years. These 
 are not the rules which have guided my life. I caused the 
 Due d'Enghien to be arrested and tried, because that step 
 was essential to the safety, interest, and honor of the French 
 people, when the Count d'Artois was miantaining, by his con- 
 fession, sixty assassins at Paris. Under similar circumstan- 
 ces, I would act in the same way. 
 
 n: 
 
 1. I bequeath to my son, the boxes, orders, and other arti- 
 cles; such as my plate, field-bed, saddles, spurs, chapel plate, 
 books, linen, which I have been accustomed to wear and use. 
 It is my wish that this slight bequest may be dear to him, as 
 recalling the memory of a father, of whom the universe will 
 discourse to him. 
 
 2. I bequeath to Lady Holland the antique Cameo which 
 Pope Pius VI. gave me at Tolentino. 
 
 3. I bequeath to Count Montholon two millions of francs, 
 as a proof of my satisfaction with the filial attention which he 
 has paid to me during six years, and as an indemnity for the 
 losses which his residence at St. Helena has occasioned. 
 
 4. I bequeath to Count Bertrand five hundred thousand 
 francs. 
 
 5. I bequeath to Marchand, my first valet de chambre, four 
 hundred thousand francs. The services which he has render- 
 ed to me are those of a friend; it is my wish that he should 
 marry the widow, sister, or daughter of an officer of my Old 
 Guard. 
 
 6. Item. To St. Denis, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 7. Item. To Navarre, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 8. Item. To Pieron, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 9. Item. To Archambaud, fifty thousand francs. 
 
 10. Item. To Cursor, twenty-five thousand francs. 
 
 11. Item. To Chandellier, item. 
 
 12. To the Abbe Yignali, one hundred thousand francs. — 
 It is my wish that he should build his house near the Ponte 
 novo di Costino. 
 
 13. Item. To Count Las Cases, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 14. Item. To Count Lavellete, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 15. Item. To Larrey, surgeon in chief, one hundred thou- 
 sand francs. — He is the most virtuous man I have known. 
 
 16. Item. To General Brayher, one hundred thousand 
 francs. 
 
 17. Item. To General Le Febvre Desnouettes, one hundred 
 thousand francs. 
 
appendix. iii 
 
 18. Item. To General Drouet, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 19. Item. To General Cambrone, one hundred thousand 
 francs. 
 
 20. Item. To the children of General Mouton Duvernet, 
 one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 21. Item. To the children of the brave Labedoyere, one 
 hundred thousand francs. 
 
 22. Item. To the children of General Girard, killed at Lig- 
 ny, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 23. Item. To the children of General Marchand, one hun- 
 dred thousand francs. 
 
 24. Item. To the children of the virtuous General Travost, 
 one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 25. Item. To General Lallemand, the elder, one hundred 
 thousand francs. 
 
 26. Item. To Count Real, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 27. Item. To Costa de Basilica, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 28. Item. To General Clausel, one hundred thousand francs. 
 
 29. Item. To Baron de Menevalle, one hundred thousand 
 francs. 
 
 30. Item. To Arnault, the author of Marius, one hundred 
 thousand francs. 
 
 31. Item. To Colonel Marbot, one hundred thousand francs. 
 I engage him to continue to write in defence of the glory of 
 the French armies, and to confound their calumniators and 
 apostates. 
 
 32. Item. To Baron Bignon, one hundred thousand francs. 
 I engage him to write the history of French diplomacy from 
 1792 to 1815. 
 
 33. Item. To Poggi de Talavo, one hundred thousand 
 francs. 
 
 34. Item. To surgeon Emmery, one hundred thousand 
 francs. 
 
 35. These sums will be raised from the six millions which I 
 deposited on leaving Paris in 1815; and from the interest, at 
 the rate of five per cent, since July 1815. The account will 
 be settled with the banker by Counts Montholon, Bertrand 
 and Marchand. 
 
 36. Whatever that deposit may produce beyond the sum of 
 five millions six hundred thousand francs, which have been 
 above disposed of, shall be distributed as a gratuity amongst 
 the wounded at the battle of Waterloo, and amongst the offi- 
 cers and soldiers of the battalion of the Isle of Elba, accord- 
 ing to a scale to be determined upon by Montholon, Bertrand, 
 Drouet, Cambrone, and the surgeon Larry. 
 
I? APPENDIX. 
 
 37. These legacies, in case of death, shall be paid to the 
 widows and children, and in default of such, shall revert to 
 the bulk of my property. 
 
 1. My private domain being my property, of which no 
 French law deprives me, that I am aware of, an account of it 
 will be required from the Baron de la Bouillerie, the treasurer 
 thereof; it ought to amount to more than 200,000,000 francs; 
 namely, 1. The portfolio containing the savings which I made 
 during fourteen years out of my civil list, which amounted to 
 more than 12,000,000 per annum, if my memory be good. — 
 2. The produce of this portfolio. 3. The furniture of my 
 palaces, such as it was in 1814, including the palaces of 
 Rome, Florence and Turin. All this furniture was purchas- 
 ed with moneys accruing from the civil list. 4. The proceeds 
 of my houses in the kingdom of Italy, such as money, plate, 
 jewels, furniture and equipages; the accounts will be render- 
 ed by Prince Eugene, and the steward of the crown, Cam- 
 pagnoni. Napoleon. 
 
 2. I bequeath my private domain, one half to the surviving 
 officers and soldiers of the French army, who have fought 
 since 1792 to 1815, for the glory and independence of the 
 nation. The distribution shall be made in proportion to their 
 appointments upon active service. One half to the towns 
 and districts of Alsace, of Lorraine, of Franche Compte, of 
 Burgundy, of the Isle of France, of Champagne Forest, 
 Dauphine, which may have suffered by either of the inva- 
 sions. There shall be previously deducted from this sum, 
 one million for the town of Brienne, and one million for that 
 of Meri. I appoint Counts Montholon, Bertrand and Mar- 
 chand, the executors of my will. 
 
 This present will, wholly written with my own hand, is sign 
 ed and sealed with my own arms. 
 
 (l. s.) Napoleon. 
 
 List (A.) 
 
 I. The consecrated vessels which have been in use at my 
 chapel at Longwood. I enjoin the Abbe Vignali to preserve 
 them, and to deliver them to my son, when he shall reach the 
 age of sixteen years. 
 
 II. My arms, that is to say, my sword, that which I wore 
 at Austerlitz, the sabre of Sobiesky, my dagger, my broad 
 sword, my hanger, my two pair of Versailles pistols. My 
 gold travelling box, that of which I made use on the morning 
 
APPENDIX. V 
 
 of Ulm and of Austerlitz, of Jena, of Eylau, of Friedland, of 
 the island of Lobau, of Moscow, of Montmirail. In this 
 point of view, it is my wish that it may be precious in the 
 eyes of my son. I charge Count Bertrand with the care of 
 preserving these objects, and of conveying them to my son, 
 when he shall attain the age of sixteen years. 
 
 This is my Codicil, or Note of my last Will. 
 
 Out of the settlement of my civil list of Italy, such as mo- 
 ney, jewels, plate, Hnen, equipages, of which the Viceroy is 
 the depository, and which belonged to me, I dispose of two 
 millions, which I bequeath to my most faithful servants. I 
 hope that, without acting upon the credit of any account, my 
 son Eugene Napoleon, will pay them faithfully. He cannot 
 forget the forty millions which I gave him in Italy, and in the 
 tribulation of the inheritance of his mother. 
 
 1. Out of these two millions, I bequeath to Count Bertrand 
 300,000 francs, of which he will deposit 100,000 in the treas- 
 urer's chest, to be disposed of according to my dispositions 
 in payment of legacies of conscience. 
 
 2. To Count Montholon, 200,000 francs, of which he will 
 deposit 100,000 in the chest, for the same purpose as .above 
 mentioned. 
 
 3. To Count Las Cases, 200,000 francs, of which he will 
 deposit 100,000 in the chest, for the same purpose as above 
 mentioned. 
 
 4. To Marchand, 100,000, of which he will deposit 50,000 
 in the chest, for the same purpose as above mentioned. 
 
 5. To Count La Valette, 100,000. 
 
 6. To General Hogendorf, of Holland, my aid-de-camp, 
 who has retired to the Brazils, 100,000. 
 
 7. To my aid-de-camp, Corbineau, 50,000. 
 
 8. To my aid-de-camp, General CafTarelli, 50,000. 
 
 9. To my aid-de-camp, Dejean, 50,000. 
 
 10. To Percy, surgeon-in-chief at Waterloo, 50,000. 
 
 11. 50,000, that is to say, 10,000 to Pieron, my maitre d'm> 
 tel; 10,000 to St. Denis, my head chasseur; 10,000 to No- 
 varre; 10,000 to Cursor, my clerk of the kitchen; 10,000 t» 
 Archambaud, my overseer. 
 
 12. To Baron Maindvalle, 50,000. 
 
 13. To the Duke d'Istria, son of Bessieres, 50,000. 
 
 14. To the daughter of Duroc, 50,000. 
 
 15. To the children of Labedoyere, 50,000. 
 
 16. To the children of Mouton Duvernet, 50,000 
 
▼X 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 17. To the children of the brave and virtuous General Tra- 
 vost, 50,000. 
 
 18. To the children of Chartrand, 50,000. 
 
 19. To General Camhrone, 50,000. 
 
 20. To General Lefebvre Desnouettes, 50,000. 
 
 21. To be distributed amongst such proscribed persons as 
 wander in foreign countries, whether they may be French, of 
 Italian, or Belgians, or Dutch, or Spanish, or inhabitants of 
 the departments of the Rhine, at the disposal of my execu- 
 tors, 100,000. 
 
 22. To be distributed amongst those who suffered amputa- 
 tion, or were severely wounded at Ligny, or Waterloo, who 
 may be still living, according to lists drawn up by my execu- 
 tors, to whom shall be added, Cambrone, Larry, Percy and 
 Emmery. The Guard shall be paid double; those of the isl- 
 and of Elba, quadruple; 200,000 francs. 
 
 This codicil is written entirely with my own hand, signed 
 
 and sealed with my arms. 
 
 / L g \ Napoleon. 
 
 EXTRACTS 
 
 FROM « A VOICE FROM ST. HELENA," BY DR. O'MEARA. 
 
 JOSEPHINE AND MARIA LOUISA. 
 
 I had some conversation with him relative to the Empress 
 Josephine, of whom he spoke in terms the most affectionate. 
 His first acquaintance with that amiable being, commenced af- 
 ter the disarming of the sections in Paris, subsequently to 
 the 13th of Vendemiare, 1795, " A boy of twelve or thirteen 
 years old presented himself to me," continued he, " and in 
 treated that his father's sword (who had been a general of 
 the republic,) should be returned. I was so touched by his 
 affectionate request, that T ordered it to be given to him.-— 
 This boy was Eugene Beauharnois. On seeing the sword, 
 he burst into tears. I felt so much affected by his conduct, 
 that I noticed and praised him much. A few days afterwards 
 his mother came to return me a visit of thanks. I was much 
 struck with her appearance, and still more with her esprit.— 
 This first impression was daily strengthened, and marriage 
 was not long in following. " 
 
APPENDIX. Vil 
 
 " I have," said Napoleon, " been twice married. Politi- 
 cal motives induced me to divorce my first wife, whom I ten- 
 derly loved. She, poor woman, fortunately for herself, died 
 in time to prevent her witnessing the last of my misfortunes. 
 Let Maria Louisa be asked with what tenderness and affec- 
 tion I always treated her. After her forcible separation from 
 me, she vowed in the most feeling terms to** ** her ardent 
 desire to enjoy me, extolled with many tears both myself and 
 my conduct to her, and bitterly lamented her cruel separation, 
 avowing her ardent desire to join me in my exile." 
 
 napoleon's mother and BROTHER JOSEPH 
 " My excellent mother," said he, " is a woman of courage 
 and of great talent, more of a masculine than of a feminine 
 nature, proud and high-minded. To the manner in which she 
 formed me at an early age, I principally owe my subsequent 
 elevation. My opinion is that the future good or bad conduct 
 of a child depends entirely upon the mother." Of Joseph he 
 thus speaks: — " His virtue and talents are those of a private 
 character; and for such, nature intended him; he is too good to 
 be a great man. He has no ambition. He is very like me in 
 person, but handsomer. He is extremely well informed, but 
 his learning is not that which is fitted for a king; nor is he 
 capable of commanding an army." 
 
 THE BOURBONS. 
 
 " To give you an instance of the general feeling in France 
 towards the Bourbons, I will relate to you an anecdote:— On 
 my return from Italy, while my carriage was ascending the 
 steep hill of Tarare, I got out and walked, without my attend- 
 ants, as was often my custom. My wife and my suite were at 
 at a little distance behind me. 1 saw an old woman lame, 
 hobbling about with the help of a crutch, endeavoring to as- 
 cend the mountain. I had a great coat on, and was not re- 
 cognised. I went up to her and said, well ' ma bonne,' where 
 are you going with a haste which so little belongs to your 
 years. What is the matter? < Ma foi,' replied the old dame, 
 'they tell me the emperor is here, and I want to see him be- 
 fore I die.' Bah! bah! said I, what do you want to see him 
 for— what have you gained by him? he is a tyrant as well as 
 the others; you have only changed one tyrant for another, 
 Louis for Napoleon. < Mais Monsieur, that may be, but after 
 all he is the king of the people, and the Bourbons were the 
 kings of the nobles; we have chosen him, and if we are to 
 
Vill APPENDIX. 
 
 have a tyrant, let him be one chosen by ourselves.' There, 
 you have the sentiments of the French nation expressed by 
 an old woman." 
 
 GENERAL VANDAMME. 
 
 General Vandamme when made a prisoner by the Russians, 
 was brought before the Emperor Alexander, who reproached 
 him in bitter terms with being a robber, a plunderer, and a mur- 
 derer; adding, that no favor could be granted to such an exe- 
 crable character. This was followed by an order that he 
 should be sent to Siberia, whilst the other prisoners were sent 
 to a much less northern destination. Vandamme replied with 
 great sang froid, "It may be, sire, that I am a robber and a 
 plunderer, but, at least, I have not to reproach myself with 
 having soiled my hands with the blood of a father." 
 
 EMPEROR PAUL. 
 
 " Paul," said Napoleon, " was murdered by B . — — , 
 
 and others. There was a Cossack, in whom Paul 
 
 had confidence, stationed at his door. The conspirators came 
 
 up and demanded entrance. P told him who he was, and 
 
 that he wanted to see the emperor upon immediate business. 
 The faithful Cossack refused. The conspirators fell upon him, 
 and after a desperate resistance, overpowered and cut him to 
 pieces. Paul, who was in bed, hearing the noise, got out and 
 endeavored to escape to the empress' apartments. Unluckily 
 for himself, he, in his suspicions, a day or two before had or- 
 dered the door of communication to be closed up. He then 
 went and concealed himself in a press. Meanwhile the con- 
 spirators broke open the door and running to the bed, per- 
 ceived that there was nobody in it. ( We are lost,' they cried; 
 
 1 he has escaped,' P , who had more presence of mind 
 
 than the rest, went to the bed and putting his hand under the 
 bed-clothes, said, i the nest is warm, the bird, cannot be far 
 off.' They then began to search, and finally dragged Paul 
 out of his hiding place. They presented him a paper contain- 
 ing his abdication, which they wanted him to sign. He refus- 
 ed at first, and said that he would abdicate if they would re- 
 lease him. They then seized and knocked him down, and 
 tried to suffocate him. Paul made a desperate resistance; 
 
 and, fearful that assistance might arrive, B dispatched 
 
 him, by stamping his heels into his eyes, and thus beating 
 his brains out, while the others held him down. Paul in his 
 
 struggles for life, once got B 's heel in his mouth, and bit 
 
 a piete out of the skin of it." 
 
APPENDIX. IX 
 
 napoleon's escapes. 
 
 Napoleon showed me the marks of two wounds, one a very 
 deep cicatrice above the left knee, which, he said, he had re- 
 ceived in his first campaign in Italy, and it was of so serious 
 a nature, that the surgeons were in doubt whether it might 
 not be ultimately necessary to amputate. He observed that 
 when he was wounded, it was always keptpa secret, in order 
 not to discourage the soldiers. The other was on the toe, 
 and had been received at Eckmuhl. " At the siege of Acre," 
 continued no, " a shell thrown by Sydney Smith, fell at my 
 feet. Two soldiers, who were close by, seized and closely 
 embraced me, one in front, and the other on one side, and 
 made a rampart of their bodies for me against the effect of 
 the shell, which exploded, and overwhelmed us with sand. — 
 We sunk into the hole formed by its bursting; one of them 
 was wounded. I made them both officers. One of them has 
 since lost a leg at Moscow, and commanded at Vincennes 
 when I left Paris. When he was summoned by the Russians, 
 he replied, that as soon as they sent him back the leg he had 
 lost at Moscow, he would surrender the fortress." 
 
 " Many times in my life, have I been saved by soldiers and 
 officers throwing themselves before me, when I was in the 
 most imminent danger. At Areola, when I was advancing, 
 Colonel Meuron, my aid-de-camp, threw himself before me, 
 covered me with his body, and received the wound which was 
 destined for me. He fell at my feet, and his blood spouted 
 up in my face. He gave his life to preserve mine. Never 
 yet, I believe, has there been such devotion shown by sol- 
 diers as mine have manifested for me. In all my misfortunes, 
 never has the soldier, even when expiring, been wanting to 
 me; never has man been served more faithfully by his troops. 
 With the last drop of blood gushing out of their veins, they 
 exclaimed, vive l'Empereur." 
 
 dessaix. 
 a Of all the generals I ever had under me, Dessaix and 
 Kleber possessed the greatest talents. Dessaix was wholly 
 trapped up in war and glory. To him riches and pleasures 
 were valueless, nor did he give them a moment's thought.— 
 He was a little black looking man about an inch shorter than 
 I am, always badly dressed, sometimes even ragged, and des- 
 pising comfort or convenience. When in Egypt, I made him 
 a present of a complete field-equipage several times, but he 
 always lost it. Wrapped up in a cloak, Dessaix threw him- 
 
X APPENDIX. 
 
 self under a gun, and slept as comfortably as if he were in a 
 palace. • For him luxury had no charms. Upright and hon 
 est in all his proceedings, he was called by the Arabs { the 
 just Sultan.' He was intended by nature for a great general 
 Kleber and Dessaix were a loss irreparable to France. Had 
 Kleber lived the British army in Egypt would have perished. 
 Had that imbecile Menou attacked them on their landing with 
 twenty thousand men, as he might have done, instead of the 
 division Lanusse, the army would have been only a meal for 
 them. The British army was seventeen or eighteen thousand 
 strong, without cavalry." 
 
 •*^^^^"^4<« 
 
 napoleon's grave. 
 
 On that lone barren Isle, where the loud roaring billows 
 Assail the stern rocks while the wild tempests rave, 
 The hero lies still— and the dew-dropping willows 
 Like fond weeping mourners, bend over his grave. 
 The sea-storm may rage, and the hoarse thunders rattle, 
 He heeds not, — he hears not, — he's free from all pain: 
 He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle — 
 No sound can awake him to glory again! 
 
 O ! shade of the mighty ! where now are the legions 
 That rush'd but to conquer when thou led'st them on? 
 Alas ! they have perished in far chilly regions, 
 And all but the fame of their triumphs is gone ! 
 The trumpet may sound, and the cannon-peal rattle, — 
 They heed not, — they hear not, — they 're free from all pain: 
 They sleep their last sleep, they have fought their last battle,- 
 No sound can awake them to glory again ! 
 
 Yet, spirit immortal, the tomb cannot bind thee — 
 
 For like thine own eagles, that soar'd to the sun, 
 
 Thou spring'st from thy bondage, and leavest behind thee 
 
 Such fame as no mortal before thee had won. 
 
 Tho' nations may combat, where war thunders rattle, 
 
 No more on thy steed shalt thou sweep o'er the plain, 
 
 Thou sleep'st thy last sleep, thou hast fought thy last battle, 
 
 No sound can awake thee to glory again. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 U 747 
 
1