'.B63 
 Copy 1 
 
 NAPOIION I. 
 
 A HISTOBIOAL LECTURE, 
 
 BT 
 
 BETSIJA-MIISr BLOOD. 
 
 :JE^FLX'\rJSJriE2 ESIDITIOr^. 
 
 AMSTERDAM, N. Y. 
 
 O. p. WINEQAB, BOOK AND JOB PRINTER, 149 MAIN STREET, 
 
 1863. 
 
 (P- 
 
 \ 
 
4 W 
 
 
 X iTr^v 
 
 7 
 
NAPOLEON I. 
 
 Kapoleon Bonaparte, the Soldier of Destiny, and tke most 
 Illustrious of mortal men, was of Italian lineage, and spoke first 
 the Italian tongue. He was the son of a Corsican lawyer, and 
 was born at Ajaccio on the 15th of August, 1769. He was one 
 of thirteen children, of whom eight reached maturity : Joseph, 
 Napoleon, Lucien, Louis, Jerome, Eliza. Pauline, and Caroline. 
 
 The first twenty four years of the Conqueror's life, although 
 deeply interesting, offer little of interest when contrasted with 
 his subsequent career. They present the sad picture of a 
 youth of remarkable attainments, and singular integrity, touched 
 with the prophecy of a wondrouHdestiny, struggling against the 
 odium of poverty and plebeian blood, — encouraged at times by 
 glimpses of success, only to sink again into obscurity, and to 
 wander on the continent with wretchedness in his bosom, now 
 •dreaming of empire, and now of self-destruction. 
 
 His early youth was spent at the military schools of Brienne 
 ;and Paris, under the shadow of the Reign of Terror. He was 
 present at the storming of the Tuilleries, and at the execution 
 of king Louis XVI, and his unfortunate queen ; but unknown, 
 and unnoticed, roamed through these stormy scenes the soldier 
 who yet should rule the troubled realm, and make it the centre 
 and the wonder of the world. Thoughtful, and strange, he was 
 bending his brow over the experience of history, and crowding 
 his brain with the sagacity of the past. Unquestioning the 
 
4 EARLY BTRUGGLE3. 
 
 consciousness of his greatness, and the ultimate grandeur of. his 
 destiny, he lived as in the outset of a sublime career. His tone, 
 his look, were taken from the future, as 
 
 '• In dreams, through camp and court he hore 
 The trophies of a conquerov," 
 
 Promoted to captaincy, at the age of 22 he returned to Cor- 
 sica, in time to witness the treachery ot Paoli in surrendering 
 the island to the English ; and for the integrity of his remons- 
 trance, upon this occasion, he was banished the island, with all 
 his family — and he never set his foot on it again. In the dead 
 of night a boat, containing Madame Letitia Bonaparte and her 
 eight children, (her husband being dead), rowed out from Cor- 
 sica, and from the sight of their ruined home. Two or three 
 trunks contained the entire fortunes of the indigent family ; yot 
 upon all but two of the nine sombre brows that looked up to 
 that boding midnight descended at last the " golden sorrow." 
 
 Two years more of wandering, poverty and study, went by. 
 He obtained command of the artillery at the siege of Toulon, — 
 and distinguished himself withJionor, — so much so as to be pro- 
 moted to Chief of Battalion in the army of Italy ; and thera 
 Avere already those to prophesy that the slim and meagre Corsican, 
 could he obtain a fulcrum for his lever, should yet give the 
 world an Archimedian lift; — but the fall of Robespierre deprived 
 him of his command, and, penniless and forsaken, he roamed the 
 world again. 
 
 Then he became a contestant for the honors of the pen, — and 
 took a prize, by an essay on a subject propounded by L'Abb6 
 Raynal, as to the proper faculties of government. In Napoleon 
 the soldier, we must ever remember Napoleon the scholar, 
 the philosopher, and the statesman. His works comprise over a 
 hundred volumes — books that monarchs love to read : govern- 
 ment, law, stra.egy, engineering, science, art, history, meta- 
 
 
 \^ 
 
 
 %: 
 
 *■ 
 
 -J 
 
 ^■ 
 
 ■:) ■ 
 
 ^^■- 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 
ARMY OF THE INTERIOR — JOSEPHINE. 
 
 physics, all were his. Of ubiquitous grasp, as he was to have 
 ubiquitous interests, yet full of subtle nicetj'jand hard mechani- 
 cal skill, he made the iron of nature redden under his Titan 
 blows, and reveal inscriptions in the elements of things, recorded 
 at the founding of the world. 
 
 But these were perilous and exciting times, and the distrac- 
 tions which one day thrust him from position might next day 
 reinstate him. Through the kindness of a friend in power, 
 ^General Barras) he obtained an opportunity of distinguishing 
 himself by the defence of the National Convention from the 
 assaults of the Parisian mob. lie received his commission at 
 midnight, under peculiar circumstances, — and by the timely 
 firmness and severity with which, on the following morning, he 
 dispersed the rabble with artillery, he destroyed the prestige of 
 Parisian mobs, established the superiority of military disci- 
 pline, and won the thanks of the Directory, who created him, for 
 his efficiency, Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Interior. 
 
 Thus, by the events of a single day, Napoleon rose from 
 indigence and obscurity to one -of the most conspicuous and 
 responsible positions in the republic. But his good fortune elated 
 him not at all. His eye still gazed on vacancy, beyond the 
 "brilliant throngs of the capital ; and his plain attire, his meagre 
 diet, and his studious life, bespoke him one who could despise 
 the " pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war," — one 
 tvho should conquer armies by the combination of soldier and 
 philosopher — of statesman and engineer. 
 
 It was about this time that he became acquainted with Jose- 
 phine Beauharnais, the loved wife of his better years. She was 
 the widow of Viscount Beauharnais, who perished on the revo- 
 lutionary scaffold — leaving her with two children: Eugene, 
 afterwards Viceroy of Italy, and Hortense, afterwards the wife 
 
6 THE ARMY OF ITALY. 
 
 of Louis Bonaparte, and the mother of Napoleon III. Josephine 
 was a lady of excellent wit, tact, spirit, and accomplishments, 
 two years the senior of her husband ; and she proved a bulwark 
 to his power, and bound herself but too closely to the conqueror's 
 destiny. He loved her next to the glory of his name, and in 
 his hours of battle Avould turn aside and write to her, with 
 boyish glee, of the working of the strategems which were shak- 
 ing every continental throne. 
 
 The youthful general was now the lion -of Paris. But soon 
 disgusted with the frivolity and dissipation of the capital, long- 
 ing for fields of toil and glory, and full of unheard of strategy 
 and military skill, he sought command of the Army of Italy ; 
 and it was granted him. " You are young," said the Directory, 
 to take command over veteran generals ; besides, the govern- 
 ment is embarrassed, and can furnish you neither money nor 
 supplies." " Give me but the men," said Bonaparte, " and I 
 will be responsible for their sustenance." Thus, at the age of 25 
 years, he was sent, without money and without supplies, to 
 defend the Republic Avith 30,000 ragged and miserable wretches, 
 whom he found at Nice to represent the Army of Italy, against 
 70,000 Austrians — well-diciplined and well-conditioned troops. 
 
 The elder French generals stood aghast at their new Com- 
 mander-in-Chief, and wondered if the Directory had gone mad ; 
 and as was natural, urged upon Napoleon their eager advice, as 
 befitting the great extremity of the army. But as if once for 
 all, Napoleon brushed them courteously aside : " Gentlemen," 
 said he to the gray veterans, " the art of war is in its infancy ! 
 The time has gone by when armies are to appoint a place of 
 meeting, and say, hat in hand, 'gentlemen will you have the 
 goodness to fire !' We must cut the enemy to pieces ! throw our- 
 selves like a torrent upon his battalions, and grind them to 
 powder !" — As if in a moment, the whole spirit and significance 
 
MILITARY PECULIARITIES. 
 
 of war were changed, under this original and overmastering 
 mind. Th^olemn reconnoitering, and the slow, methodical 
 advance, gave way to the rush of most tempestuous attack, with 
 profound, #)v^l, and perilous strategy ; and the dull boom of 
 the distant cannonade, and the duller report of battles hardly 
 won or lost, gave way to the tumbling rocks and the broken 
 beams of the blood-stained passage of destruction, — the fierce 
 encounter of the bayonet, and the triumphant bulletins of 
 glorious and enthusiastic, but bloody and expensive victory. 
 
 It is impossible to describe, in an evening, the campaigns of 
 Napoleon in detail. . And one general principle pervaded all his 
 military operations, from first to last, and has been esteemed by 
 military men the great secret of success. "The art of War," said 
 this chief of soldiers, " consists in producing the most men at a 
 given point and time." His object ever was to outnumber the 
 enemy; to hold the various divisions of his army in such positions,- 
 that, whenever he should strike, he should strike with superior num- 
 bers, and invariably carry, with every fresh attack, the prestige 
 of victory and superior strategy. To do this, required marches 
 of his men previously unheard of in the annals of war. Forty- 
 five miles a day was no extraordinary advance ; and in at least 
 one instance his entire army moved 80 miles in less than 36 
 hours. Drinking little or no wine, never indulging in more than 
 two meals in 24 hours, faring as rudely as his men, and more 
 than sharing the same toil and danger, he set before them- an 
 example of courage, hardihood, vigilance and activity, unread 
 of in the annals of the camp, and rendered his troops the%iost 
 formidable on the continent. — Nor were these generous endeav- 
 ors without their reward. Three times, within 15 days, the 
 government at home voted that the Army of Italy deserved 
 well of their country ; and instituted festivals in their honor.— 
 Beaten again and again, the dogged Austrians rallied, recruited, 
 and returned, only to be outgeneraled and overmatched. At 
 
8 HIS COURAGE.- 
 
 Lonato, Castiglionc, Koveredo, Pinmolano, Bassano, Mantua^ 
 Areola, Rivoli, LaFavorita — all names renowned in war, and 
 whose positions and whose strategy are made tiie study of 
 the youthful soldier, Avhile they are the wonder and ^e admira- 
 tion of all who profess the science of destruction, the genius of 
 the wonderful Corsioan drove dl before him, crowning with 
 glory the fierce eagles of the Republic, and making the Alps 
 re-echo to the cry which afterwards shook every continental 
 throne, ''''Live HapoleonP^ 
 
 The courage of Bonaparte had in it something superhuman, 
 and will be remembered, with the mountains and gorges and 
 deserts of its exhibition, as a prodigy of nature. It had little 
 of the rush and fury of a desperate heroism, or the excited 
 struggles of a passionate disposition ; cold, careful, and serene, 
 it grew from policy, genius, — more than all, from the conviction 
 of an unavoidable destiny. The ball that could kill him was 
 not yet cast. A bomb-shell that fell in his ^ presence scarcely 
 interrupted his conversation. At Lodi, where a dozen Austrian 
 cannon were ranged upon a bridge 30 feet in Avidth, and 
 every nook and corner lined with sharp-shooters, in defiance of 
 the opinions of his generals that it was impossible that a man 
 should live to cross, Napoleon determined to storm the position ; 
 and the troops advanced accordingly, at a violent run. As the 
 Austrians opened their fire the whole head of the column fell in 
 a heap. The French wavered in the presence of almost inevi- 
 table dissolution, and Avere about to fly — Avhen Napoleon, seizing 
 a standard, sprang to the head of the column, crying, " Grena- 
 dierst follow your General !" — and sliding in blood, and 
 stumbling over the slain, he bore it over that gangway of des- 
 truction, and planted it beyond the Austrian guns. 
 
 But it was not in the presence of "War's mortal engines" that 
 *he courage of Bonaparte was best approved ; for in him was 
 that rare combination of the brutal and the spiritual courage — 
 that lofty conceit which fears not for this world, nor that which 
 
HIS TEMPtATlONS. '^ 
 
 18 to come. When the pestilence, that walketh in darkness, and 
 waste th at noondaj, had laid hold upon his army in the Holy 
 Jjand, and the boldest physicians fled from the agonizing cries of 
 the blackening wretches whose touch was reckoned deadly as the 
 •adder's sting, then the soul of Napoleon rose forever from the 
 rank of military heroes. " Quid scriptum, scriptum !" said he 
 — " What is written is written— -our days are numbered !" — and 
 entering the reeking hospitals, he tended the suflferers with his 
 own hands, and poured into their fading eyes the courage of the 
 life immortal. While such sublime devotion convinced many 
 of his followers of his more tnan mortal impulse, his unvarying 
 conquest induced the credit of more than human skill. Who 
 ■can deny that he was thought divine ? — rmjb alone by the rank 
 and file, the ignorant and uninfluential, but by men of the high- 
 est standing in arts and arms. From his earliest years he had 
 upon his countenance the impress of immortal genius. His own 
 father, dying in del«rium, called out for aid to the young Na- 
 poleon. Marshal Lannes, Duke of Montebello, stricken down 
 by a cannon ball, felt that his life-blood was oozing ; the surgeons 
 assured him that their art was vain— he must die: "Die!" 
 said the adoring follower of the Man of Destiny, — " the Em- 
 peror can save me !— -send for the Emperor !" But Napoleon 
 was amid the storm of battle. " Napoleon ! Napoleon !" cried 
 the eager sufferer, who forgot the Almighty — " Napoleon ! Na- 
 poleon !"— and died at last with the name half uttered on his 
 lips. 
 
 One by one the Italian principalities, awed by the overmast- 
 ering spirit of Bonaparte, renounced the alliance of Austria, 
 and accepted the protection and dominion of the French. Vast 
 ^ums of money, and pictures of world-wide fame, poured into 
 the coffers of the conqueror, and were by him transmitted, with 
 scrupulous fideUty, to the treasury and museum of France. In 
 vain did the aristocratic houses of these ancient lands of opu- 
 lence and art endeavor, by the offer of immense bribes, to 
 
 9. 
 
10 TRIUMPH AT PARIS. 
 
 seduce the youthful general from his fealty to the Republic- 
 In vain did Venice oflfer him $7,000,000, while the splendors 
 of an Austrian dukedom had no attraction for his eyes. Pro- 
 foundly versed in the history of these ancient dynasties, a master 
 of the art of treaties, and an orator of the Roman school, he 
 overavT'jd apposition, and won his^way as much by the reverence 
 which his great genius and virtues elicited, as by the fears which- 
 his fierce battallions had engendered. He seemed born to 
 reign. Alone in the desert, or on a rock in the ocean, his deep 
 and thoughtful eye suggested Empire, as surely as when the kings' 
 of Europe were his ministers, and the wit and beauty of a con- 
 tinent, beneath the glittering candelabra of St. Cloud and 
 Versailles vied humbly^ for his notice who outshone them all — 
 a King trancendently, whose crown was an impertinence — -" 
 whose royalty was patent in the temperance of his body and' 
 the strength and majesty of his mind. 
 
 The world at large was fully cognizant of the splendor and 
 importance of these Italian campaigns. Their perilous feats of 
 arms, their exhibitions of unaccountable and unheard-of strategy, 
 gave to the new Republic a prestige of good fortune and security, 
 while they made her youthful strategist the snbject of conjecture' 
 in every court in Europe. Nor in the army alone was felt the per- 
 sonal enthusiasm of his presence. As he turned homeward 
 with the treaty of Campo Formio as the result of his year's 
 labor, the voice of the people drowned the jealous caution of the 
 Directors in cries for a triumphal celebration. The magnificent 
 court of the Luxembourg had to be fitted up as an immense 
 theatre, wherein the government should receive the treaty from* 
 the hands of the Conqueror of Italy. — It was one of those 
 scenes which Paris alone can produce. The five Directors, clad 
 as Roman Senators, upon a lofty stage, received the returned 
 hero from the hand of Talleyrand, and amid the roar of artillery 
 encircled him with their arms, — while the thousands upon 
 thousands who stood around the pageant, wild with the intoxica- 
 
*. THE EGYPTIAN EXPEDITION. 11 
 
 tion of the hour, caught up the old battle-cry of the Alps, and 
 made the welkin echo " Live Napoleon /" 
 
 This increasing popularity of the Corsican general, (which 
 indeed became so great that the streets of Paris had rung with 
 the cry of " down with the attorneys, and lift the little Corporal 
 into their place"), determined the Directory to furnish him with 
 employment outside of France ; and the expedition to Egypt 
 was accordingly concocted — ostensibly for the aggrandisment of 
 the Republic abroad, but manifestly with a shrewd eye to the 
 safety of the Directory at home. Napoleon was not unmindful 
 of the purpose of the government, nor was he deaf to the cries 
 of Paris ; but he felt that his hour had not yet come. The 
 Army of the Rhine formed a ballance to the Army of Italy, 
 and its sterling generail, Moreau, held a position in the hearts of 
 the Republic, older and scarcely inferior to that of the more 
 fortunate Corsican. Yet Napoleon hesitated. He shut him- 
 self up for two days in his apartments without food or drink, (as 
 was his wont) and revolved in silence and solitude the chances 
 of his destiny. At length his eye seemed to rest upon an em- 
 pire which left France to her own fate ; and slowly and thought- 
 fully, with new dreams and vague aspirations, he turned his • 
 steps towards the land of the Pharaohs, and the magnificence of 
 the East. 
 
 It wasonthel9thof May, 1798, illumined by a splendid sunrise 
 — one of those suns which were afterward so popularly called the 
 '' Suns of Napoleon," sailed out from the harbor of Toulon the 
 briUiant armament of the Egyptian Expedition, — 400 transports, 
 13 ships of the line, and 4 frigates ; 25,000 men, the select of 
 the Army of Italy, led by those generals whom Napoleon himself 
 
 had discovered and promoted, Lannes, Murat, Desaix, 
 
 Berthier, Soult, Augereau, besides Menou, and other veterans 
 of the Revolution, formed the phalanx of the fighting men. — 
 But besides these, a host of scientific men and philosophers? 
 selected from the most celebrated savans of Europe, accompa- 
 
\. 
 
 12 EGYPTIAN EXPEDITION. 
 
 med the expedition, giving to its vague and scarce-visible 
 political utility the color of scientific improvement and philan- 
 thropic colonization. Ah ! this is one of the -white days of 
 history, wild beyond the visions of romance. As the golden 
 morning, full of hope and promise, lit the dancing waves, the 
 shining spars, the flowing banners and bright arms of France, 
 Napoleon stood upon the deck of his frigate, the warm light 
 soothing his magnificent head and turning his brown locks to 
 gold, and waved his plume to the thousands that stood upon the 
 shore, their eyes dim with blessings and enthusiastic tears ; 
 around him were the wide-famed representatives of many scien- 
 ces and many arts, and the soldiers whose stout limbs were of 
 his own creation, and whose valor and whose glory took their 
 light from him,— -the world before him, to roam at will, beyond 
 the reach of law, through lands renowned in the earUest 
 annals of the race ! Who could but think, as the glory of Al- 
 exander again seemed looming through the confines of history, 
 and the temple of Jupiter Ammon glittered in the distance — who 
 could but think how wilder and more witching to the strange 
 heart of man is the Conqueror, whose path leaves solitude and 
 desolation, than the more pure philauthrophist, whose loving hand 
 
 " Strews cities, like shells along the shore." 
 
 Egypt was at that time a dependency of Turkey, and inhab- 
 ited by three classes : the Arabs, the Copts, or original Egyptians, 
 and the Mamelukes. These last were a body of professed 
 soldiers whose ranks were recruited from Georgian and Circas- 
 sian slaves, selected and trained on purpose, and bought by the 
 24 Beys who ruled the departments of Egypt in the name of 
 the Ottoman Porte. They were reckoned the best cavalry in the 
 world, — men of desperate valor and expert horsemanship, each 
 inspired by the hope of succeeding his master, whose authority 
 devolved in succession upon the bravest of his subordinates. — 
 Their military skill, however, comprised the extent of their 
 virtues ; they were hated by the business population of Egypt 
 
BATfLB OF TUE PYRAMIDS. 13 
 
 for their rapacity, cruelty, and brutal sensuality. — Blending 
 policy with aggression, Napoleon furnished himself a plea, (of 
 which the Directory had failed him), in this popular hatred of 
 the Mamelukes ; and he entered the Ottoman dominions with 
 the inscription on his banners, " Glory to the Sultan, and to 
 the French army his allies ! Accursed b j the. Mamelukes ! — - 
 Good fortune to the Land of Egypt !" 
 
 Landing at Alexandria, which they carried by assault, and 
 exposed to plunder for three hours as a terror to the mercantile 
 interests, on the 7th of July the French quitted the alluvium of 
 the Nile, and advanced up the desert in quest of the enemy. — 
 Small bands of the Mameluke cavalry continually assailed their 
 flanks and rear, — and mounted as they were on their nimble 
 Arab steeds, they cut and came again with comparative impu- 
 nity. Bnt on the 21st of July, as they drew near Cairo, and 
 the eternal pyramids rose dark against the heavens, the French 
 beheld the entire Mameluke force before them, protected on the 
 right by an entrenched camp of 20,000 infantry, and 40 pieces 
 of cannon. There was a flutter and a stir among these Ottoman 
 desperadoes as the head of the French column loomed in view 
 — Turkish officers, splendidly apparelled, galloped hither and 
 yon, and there was swaying of banners, and mounting in hot 
 haste As his army drew near to the fortifications of the enemy, 
 Napoleon's quick eye discovered that the guns were so clumsily 
 and hastily mounted as to be unable to cover the field, — and he 
 resolved to rapidly evade the entrenchments, so as to encounter 
 the infantry or cavalry alone. The enemy, aware of the imper- 
 fection of his defences, with equal promptness resolved to risk 
 all on a single charge of this world-renowned body of horsemen. 
 His movements were rapid in the extreme. Bonaparte had 
 scarcely time to give warning to his officers of a most desperate 
 assault — when, suddenly, mounted on the finest horses of Arabia, 
 glittering in gorgeous housings of the East, and led by the gal^ 
 
14 BATTLE OP THE PYRAMIDS. 
 
 lant Marad Bey, the Mamelukes, 10,000 strong, waved their 
 Mongolian sabres, and came bounding to the charge. — " Sol- 
 diers !" cried Napoleon, as the splendid host came on, " from 
 yonder pyramids, forty centuries behold your deeds !" — And 
 truly 40 centuries more may wait in vain for so magnificent a 
 sight. The solid squares of Italy withstood the awful rush, and 
 struggled instantly to position, while the rolling fire of the 
 French artillery under Napoleon's direction tore the thick rank 
 of Mamelukes to pieces. Yet their courage was terrific. Kept 
 out of reach with the sabre, they hurled their empty pistols^ 
 and wheeled their horses heels, at the French, that at the prick 
 of the bayonet they might kick open the bristling ranks ; even 
 the wounded and unhorsed, creeping along the ground, cut at 
 the legs of the infantry with their crooked blades, while the 
 horses of their countrymen were trampling them to death. The 
 world has not seen such cavalry before nor since. Napoleon 
 gazed in admiration on their barbarian spleen, and vainly 
 dreamed that he should add them to his own ranks. — But they 
 were baffled and thrust back, their valor was in vain, — and 
 staggering under the murderous discharges of artillery, they at 
 length gave way and fled, some for the desert and some for the 
 Nile. Their infantry, beholding this celebrated host defeated, 
 deserted their camp without a blow. And as the tumultuous 
 masses rushed into the river, some in boats and some to swim, 
 the shot and shells of Napoleon's rapid batteries brought such a 
 wail of dispair and horror from the drowning multitude as when^ 
 centuries before, the waves of the Red Sea were breaking over 
 Pharaoh and his host ! 
 
 Such was the battle of the Pyramids, that sent the terror 
 of the French arms wherever the Moslem tongue was spoken ; — 
 and long afterwards, while the learned men of France were 
 deciphering the inscriptions on the tombs and ancient monuments 
 of Egypt, the French soldiery diverted and profited themselves 
 
^ -tHE HOLY LANi). 1» 
 
 hy fishing up from the Nile the bodies of the drowried Mame- 
 lukes — each of whom carried his fortune in a leathern belt about 
 his waist, amounting on an average to $1,200 in gold. 
 
 Haviiig remained several months in Egypt, consolidating his 
 power, and dreaming of an empire after the manner of Mahomet, 
 the French general crossed the Isthmus of Suez, and advanced 
 his conquests into the Holy Land. Again old Gaza felt Samson 
 at her gates. The cities of Gaza and Jaffa were stormed and 
 taken, and the unchecked victor marched upon St. Jean d'Acre. 
 But here he was doomed to pause ; for added to the obstinate 
 tesistance of the Turks themselves was the assistance of the 
 English under Sir Sydney Smith, and that too with the very 
 guns which Napoleon ha* shipped at Aboukir, to assist at the 
 siege of Acre. Eight terrible assaults within sixty days showed 
 the bloody and untiring purpose of Napoleon to take this town, 
 while eleven desperate sallies from their works attested the deter- 
 mination of the besieged. " Upon this petty town," said 
 Bonaparte to Murat, "depends the fate of the Oriental world." 
 But in the middle of May the plague broke out in the French 
 army, — the men began to die in scores, and there was no altern- 
 ative but to raise the siege, and pass out of the infection. — 
 Burying all his heavy cannon ,and throwing the lighter guns into 
 the sea, on the 20th of May the French general retired from 
 the siege of Acre, repulsed, as it were by the hand of the Al- 
 mighty, from the Empire of the East. 
 
 The mind wanders, lost in contemplation of the probable 
 consequences, had Napoleon been permitted to advance into 
 the Asiatic States. Over 
 
 " What lands of silver and lands of gold — 
 What realms untrodden and realms untold" 
 
 might not his boundless genius and ambition have extended ! — 
 The wealth of Ormus and of Ind, the slaves of Circassia, and 
 the Legions of the Mogul glittering in barbaric pearl and gold, 
 
16 AFFAIRS IN FRANCE. 
 
 might have been his. Over deserts untraced and valleys the 
 most luxuriant in nature, he might have swayed the sceptre of 
 unmeasured, undisputed Empire. " Could I but have joined 
 the Mameluke cavalry to the French infantry," said Napoleon 
 at St. Helena, "the world'cannot conjecture -what might have 
 been the consequences. Byzantium would have fallen — Con- 
 stantinople — the Empire of the East !" 
 
 While these events were transpiring, great changes were 
 taking place in the political condition and popular mind of 
 France. The Austrians had renewed the war ; and the Arch-* 
 duke Charles, (brother of the Austrian Emperor), more than a 
 match for the French generals Moreau and Jordan, had driven 
 them back over the Rhine, while his ct)mpatriot generals were 
 besieging Massena in Genoa. All that Napoleon had gained by 
 his Italian campaigns had been lost by inefficiency in his absence. 
 The Directory were come into utter contempt ; to their imbe- 
 cility were attributed these misfortunes ; and it is not to be 
 "wondered at, that as the bayonets of all Europe were pointed 
 at the bosom of France, "to revenge the fall and to effect the 
 restoration of the Bourbons, the hearts of the people turned for 
 hope and consolation to the conquering Corsican, whose eye 
 seemed ever shining on the pathway to success. 
 
 The talents of the Bonaparte family were not monopolized by 
 Napoleon. His brothers and his wife comprised a powerful 
 party in the new Republic. His brother Lucien was now Pres- 
 dient of the Council of Five Hundred, — and through him kept 
 continually aware of the changes in the popular mind of France, 
 Napoleon was now assured that the hour of his fortune was at 
 hand. And organizing his army under general Kleber, (after 
 defeating 16,000 Turks at Aboukir, and driving them all into 
 the sea, whence but 6,000 ever escaped to tell the briny tale), 
 lie sailed from Egypt, without orders from the Directory, on the 
 
 \ 
 
lUfi CONSULATBi 1» 
 
 28th of August, 1799, and landed at Frejus, in France tho 
 18th of October following. 
 
 As the youthful Conqueror again touched her shores, the Re- 
 public rose in a clamor of triumph and exultation. Bonfires, 
 and every manner of illumination greeted his career ; flowers 
 were strewn and bells were rung, and deputations of immense 
 bodies of citizens received him as the glory and deliverance of 
 France. In less than thirty days from the date of his arrival 
 the government was quietly overthrown, without bloodshed, and 
 a consular government established with Bonaparte, Abbe Sieyes^ 
 and Roger Duces at its head. Of these three, it will be easily 
 believed, Bonaparte comprised the better half. Scarcely were 
 the consuls established in their authority ere the other two 
 attempted to colleague Napoleon with themselves in the absorb^ 
 tion of immense sums to provide for their future safety. But 
 the " Spartan," who had refused $7,000,000 from Venice, and 
 a principality from Austria, was incorruptible with gold, — at the 
 same time' that a knowledge of these facts made him master of 
 the destinies of his two coadjutors. It is not wonderful that the 
 two venerable villains saw fit soon to retire from public life, 
 leaving vacancies which the influence of Napoleon and his 
 brothers supplied with two friends of his — Cambaceres and Le 
 Brun, — himself being Chief Consul, for ten years, at a salary 
 of $100,000 per year, the other two receiving about $60,000 
 each. And veu soon after this appointement the popular vote 
 of France recorded its approval of the proceedings by a majority 
 as of 1,900 to 1. 
 
 As Napoleon settled into the consular throne, a weight, as of 
 the nightmare of centuries, rose from the spell-bound breast of 
 France. Corruption and oppression and cruelty, whose ways 
 had been shrouded by Directoral protection, fled away 'as the 
 fiery sympathy of the First Consul unroofed their infamous 
 deeds, and let into their iniquitous retreats the broad light of 
 8 
 
18 LIBEllAL KEFORMS. 
 
 day. All prisoners for political offences were immediately set 
 free. The exiled priests and emigrants were recalled. The 
 public oSces, long subject to peculation and corruption, were- 
 filled up by men whose integrity should pass curreut with their 
 incorruptible chief. The great ministerial offices were filled up 
 alike by those who had ben his friends and those who had op- 
 posed him, their fitness alone determining their elligibility. The 
 funds rose instantly in public estimation ; taxes were reduced, 
 and public safety insured by the most formidable police ; the 
 theatres were purified ; the tenth day sabbath of the Goddess 
 of Reason was rebuked, and the Christian Sabbath formally 
 restored, — ^yet liberty was insured to every man to worship God 
 or to worship not, as accorded with his own conscience and his 
 own understanding. — How solemnly triumphant rang out once 
 more, in the liberty of a brighter civilization, the bells that had 
 so long hung breathless, hushed in the Reign of Terror ! 
 
 Napoleon now turned all his energies to avert the storm that 
 was lowering around the nation, and the cloud of which had 
 called him to the Consular throne. 
 
 Gathering 150,000 men, the flower of the army of France, he 
 placed at their head general Moreau, and drew for him the 
 plan of a campaign which should cross the Alps in four different 
 places, and cut off the rear of those Austrians who were be- 
 sieo-ino- Massena in Genoa. But Moreau, unused to the vast 
 designs of the consul, saw httle hope in the undertaking, and 
 demurred. " Let him go to the Rhine," said Bonaparte, of 
 his only prstended military rival, — " he will repent over the 
 '^iory he has yielded to me, when I, with 60,000 raw conscripts, 
 who never even smelled the smoke of a cartridge, shall cross 
 the Alps, and outshine him and the 150,000 veterans whom I 
 have trained. The plan is feasible ! Oa the plain of Marengo I 
 shall meet the Austrian, and I shall defeat him !" 
 
 And indeed the effectual passage af the Alps by an army o f 
 
THE ALPS, 19 
 
 60,000 men, or of any army whatsoever, had been considered 
 strategetically impossible ; not but that with time and patience 
 an army, with its cavah-y, artillery, and baggage, could be 
 transported across the Alps : but their movements could be 
 defeated by a handful of men, had credit been given to rumors 
 of the attempt. Everything had to be borne upon the sholders 
 of men and mules. The wheel of no human vehicle had ever 
 rolled over those precipitous and icy paths— nought save the 
 l)ursting lauwine, " the thunderbolt of snow\" Angles of slippery 
 rock appeared where only the mountain goat could tread with 
 safety, and where the troops were compelled to join hands, in 
 single file, to steady each others steps on the edges of precipices 
 where, a thousand feet below, the torrent murmured like 
 the river of a dream. The wheels had to be taken from the 
 artillery and borne by hand, — the guns stripped from their 
 carriages, and encased in hollow logs, to be tugged up over the 
 rocks with ropes, 100 men to a gun. Napoleon offered the 
 mountain peasantry immense sums to obtain by contract the 
 transportation of his guns across the mountains ; but even they, 
 used to chase the chamois on his perilous path, declined. As a 
 stimulus to his own troops in a moment of discouragement, he 
 offered them the money which the mountaineers had declined to 
 earn : but they refused it, to a man. " We are not toiling for 
 gold," said they, " but to share with you the glory !" — "Then 
 sound your bugles," said the lofty chief, " and let me see you 
 once more take the cliffs at the charging step !" 
 
 In about sixty hours of toil and terror, in which many horses 
 and several men were lost, this world-renowned feat was accom- 
 plished, — and the news that an army was descending, as if out 
 of the clouds, was borne to the startled Austrian on his victori- 
 ous career. True to the brute instinct by which men ever 
 retreat over the rout of their advance, the Austrians turned at 
 bay, with such suddenness and determination that, although, 
 
20 MARENGO. 
 
 true to the prophecy of Napoleon, the two armies met on the 
 plain of Marengo, the battle opened with 40,000 Austrians to 
 20,000 French. The odds were fearful : a;id the Austrians 
 "were flushed with recent victory, while many of the French had 
 never even witnessed an engagement. But the Man of Destiny 
 was among them, and Europe had already reckoned him as 
 100,000. With stirring words he bade them remember the 
 bright eyes of France, and the never-waning star of him who 
 had brought them thither ; and with the utmost determination 
 they turned to the unequal conflict. Hour after hour these raw 
 conscripts withstood the field, under the encouraging smile of 
 their commander, while courier after courier fled from the First 
 Consul to bring on the halting divisions of his army, and effect 
 the working of his dangerous strategy. Dessaix, with 10,000 
 men, was thirty miles away when this action commenced : but 
 even at that distance hearing among the mountains the heavy 
 cannonade, and remembering the prophecy of Bonaparte, he 
 waved his sword in the air, crying " Marengo ! Marengo !" 
 and like the needle to the pole, without orders, on over the 
 rough route this bosom friend and worshiper of Napoleon hur- 
 ried his men, with every possible promise, as if the fate of 
 Europe were depending on his f peed. And so, apparently, it 
 did. As he spurred into the presence of the Consul, he beheld 
 the troops of the Republic falling back in confusion, all but a 
 few squares in his immediate presence. " I see," said he, with 
 grief and disappointment, " the battle is lost ; I suppose I can 
 do no more than to cover your retreat !" " By no means !" 
 said the indomitable Bonaparte — " the battle I trust is gained !" 
 and with peculiar emphasis on his instructions ordered him 
 instantly to charge. The Austrians, in the full confusion of 
 pursuit, recoiled at the solid columns of Dessaix ; at the same 
 time the Consul, reassuring his conscripts in the rear of the 
 advancing column, ordered general Kellerman to charge with all 
 
•■ TREATY OF AMIENS. 21 
 
 the cavalry into the Austrian flank. The race is not always to 
 the swift, nor the battle to the strong. Even now the Austrian, 
 I^Ielas, had despatched couriers to spread over Europe the news 
 of his brilliant victory at Marengo : — in the twinkling of an eye, 
 as if by the inspiration of the Almighty, the sublime foresight 
 of Napc|^on turned his triumph to distraction, as, in irrecover- 
 able confusion and dismay, the Austrian host rolled back over 
 the plain, and the conscripts of the Republic, delivered as by a 
 miracle from the jaws of death, made the Alps remember the 
 Conqueror of Italy 1 
 
 " Fold up the map of Europe 1" said the great Chatham, 
 when he heard of the victory of Marengo — " it need not be 
 taken down^or twenty years." 
 
 Peace hath her victories no less renowned than war. Notwith- 
 standing Napoleon, at the age of 31, stood upon the highest 
 pinnacle of military fame, it remained for him within a fsw 
 months to outdo the political strategy of all former years, and 
 to render contemptible in comparison the greatest statesman of 
 England, by the degradation of Chatham, and the pifcce of 
 Amiens. Look at the political condition of Europe when Napo- 
 leon assumed the Consular throne. From beneath every crown 
 on the continent the jealous, blood-shot eyes of ancient Despotism 
 glared in menace and defiance at the republican innovation of 
 France. England, Austria, and Russia in alliance — Naples, 
 Tuscany, and Sardinia, with the Ottomon court in deadly hatred, 
 and the Prussian court in at least silent menace, abetted the 
 universal clamor. A few months roll around, and by the under- 
 working of some mysterious current, this whole continental 
 galaxy, linked heart and hand with the French Republic, are 
 combined to break the maratime supremacy of the British Empire. 
 How all this was accomplished the world can partly conjecture, 
 and partly discover ; but it was the work of a single man. The 
 force of all the silent machinery came up from the brain of the 
 
22 DAYS OF GLORY. 
 
 illustrious Consul : his emisaries covered the civilized world, 
 and infused into the surly courts the spirit of the new genera- 
 tion. — It was on the 2Jst of October, 1801, that the three 
 Consuls were closeted at Malmaison, when a messenger entered 
 the apartment with tidings that England had signed the prelimi- 
 naries of peace. Vfith one accord the two Consuls sprang from 
 their scats to embrace the knees of their sublime chief, — and 
 Cambaceres, gazing up into his eyes, enthusiastically exclaimed, 
 " You are great as the universe !" 
 
 These were the days of Napoleon's unclouded splendor. None 
 of those acts of usurpation or absorption, which rendered 
 him odious and despotic in the minds of many who could not 
 accord with his gigantic schemes, had tarnished the lustre of 
 his name. His wife still held her high position ; and while she 
 shed over the society of Paris an influence of refinement, pro- 
 priety, and virtue, her vigilant and untiring lord imparted an 
 unheard of impetus to the internal prosperity of the nation. Un- 
 der the rule of Napoleon the public works of France became 
 the most splendid in Europe. Magnificent bridges, of the most 
 elegant and durable construction, — roads, even across the Alps, 
 — canals, proposing to intersect every quarter of the empire, — 
 schools, theatres, museums, libraries, and galleries of art, — hos- 
 pitals for the insane, the dumb, and the blind, — banks, courts of 
 law, equity, and police, — all after the method of the Consul, 
 and all foreshadowing the Code Napoleon, made France, in these 
 bright days, the festival of the world, and the centre of civilza- 
 tion. 
 
 Happy indeed were they, in these the early days of his power, 
 who long before, in sickness, poverty and despair, had looked 
 kindly on the grateful Corsican, who never forgot them. To the 
 poor he gave wealth beyond their wishes ; to the brave and the 
 proud the Cross of the Legion of Honor. 
 
 Is it to be wondered at, that as a reward for his magnificent 
 
napoleon's governmlnt. 23 
 
 achievements, — as a tribute to the splendor of his genius, and 
 an acknowledgment of the princely generosity of his nature, he 
 Avas created Consul for Life ? 
 
 The rule of Napoleon, not even excepting the continental 
 system, (Avherein all his allies were pledged to reject commerce 
 Avith England, \Yith the design of ultimately crippling her mara- 
 time supremacy), was the best of which France is, or was ever, 
 capable. It ^Yas the semblance of liberty in the person of des- 
 potism, — *■' the hand of iron in the velvet glove." Notwith- 
 standing every appearance of authority and importance was 
 given to the representative bodies, the fiat of the First Consul 
 was omnipotent, and his veto was unavoidable. — It is strange, to 
 Americans, that the French Senate could vote an act and de- 
 liberate with zeal and importance as of the original creators of 
 law, of which they were, in truth, the mere clerks of record ; 
 but that fact itself is proof of a pohtical necessity. Generous, 
 but treacherous, volatile, yet cruel, trivial, yet bloody and terrible, 
 the same strange throng that bore Marie Antoinette to the scaf- 
 fold cried "Live the Empress" when she spurned them with a 
 queen's contempt. Truth and time are nothing, — appearance 
 is everything, to this singular people. The hand of iron in the 
 velvet glove alone can sway the sceptre of French empire ; and 
 the sturdy reign of Napoleon III. is slowly working, in the 
 consciousness of men, the vindication of Napoleon the first. 
 
 For the same reasons in the national character the rule of 
 Napoleon was a military rule. The schools were the nurseries 
 of acrobats and swordsmen, and from 16 to 60 all were liable 
 to conscription. The transcendent marshal and material genius 
 of the warrior co^isd made tame the glory of the finer arts. 
 He could be nothing who was not also a soldier. Blame not 
 Napoleon for this. They are, and always have been, a fighting 
 nation ; he ruled them to their taste ; and the blood and sorrow 
 which political necessities caused to flow were turned by him to 
 
2-i RIGHT AND LEOITIMACT. 
 
 the only purposes which could claim them — the aggrandisment 
 of the Grand Nation, and the subversion of surrounding nations 
 to a government more efficient, more liberal, more economical 
 than their own. 
 
 Doubtless Napoleon, like all great political characters, has 
 been overpraised by his friends, and overburdened by his ene- 
 mies, as to both the purity of his life and the wisdom of his 
 government ; but as to those acts of state for which he has been 
 alternately so exaltedly praised, and profoundly blamed, I am 
 unable to judge them by those formal rules of moral science 
 which prevail in the minds of his detractors when determining 
 propriety in the definition of the treaties, the boundaries, or 
 even the crowns of the continental nations, whose histories one 
 and all are written in blood, and whose outlines bear the 
 confitguration of force, fraud, violence and corruption. I do not 
 see the consistency of England in clamoring for the restoration: 
 of the Bourbons, while the title of " King of France" was a 
 hereditary designation of the English kings. Nor does it ap- 
 pear that the reigning George of England was better entitled to 
 his throne than was the fallen, but once right-royal heir of the 
 Stuarts. Neither is there the slightest difFerance between the ag- 
 grandisment of Napoleon and the aggrandisment of England all 
 over the globe, or of Russia, or Austria, or Turkey, in Poland and 
 Greece. Neither is it by any means self-evident that the crown of 
 Hapsburg, though it descended yet warm from the brow of Julius 
 Cesar, was more blessed in its assumption, either of God or the 
 people, than the crown of Bonaparte. And as to other acts of 
 state — the censorship of the press; the x^merican Executive, 
 even as did Napoleon in times of far greater extremity, cries 
 hush! to the whispering leaves of the press. The wrong of 
 yesterday becomes right to-day. — The history of national 
 right is the history of political power, prestige and pretension. 
 From the day when the axe of the Lion Heart broke the gates 
 
CAMPAIGN OP 1805. So 
 
 of Jerusalem, and clashed out the brains of their janitors in 
 the name of Him -who, when he was smitten, smote not again, 
 until now, when the emblem of slaughter dangles at the heels of 
 chaplains whose mission is rather mercy and martyrdom than 
 destruction, the exclusiveness of patriotism has constricted true 
 humanity, — and individuals have preferred present power, emol- 
 ument, and show, to the slow but certain guerdon of eternal 
 truth and justice. " Alexander, Cesar, Charlemagne and 
 myself," said Bonaparte, " are the representatives of earthly 
 greatness ; we have founded empires ; but we founded them tvith 
 force. Christ alone has founded an empire in love !" One 
 kingdom alone, of all the kingdoms of the earth, is founded in 
 righteousness, — and no sword protects or represents it. Its 
 monarch fell by treachery, and his followers were scattered ou 
 the globe : yet the wrath of the Lamb is mightier than the 
 stroke of steel, — and the tears of the glorious gentle martyr, 
 gathering the bolts of heaven at their back, have come down the 
 ages, rugged and terrible, as they were mountains, plucked up 
 by the hair, and flung by the Titans of old. 
 
 But the treaty of Amiens, so welcome to all Europe, was 
 destined to an early rupture. Two years had wrought their 
 changes, and new spirits flitted through the scene. The Em- 
 peror Paul, of Russia, an ardent admirer of the soldier of fortune, 
 was now dead, and his crown descended, without his passion, to 
 his soa Alexander. The latter was a prince of remarkable 
 courage, foresight and sagacity, who had long looked with jeal- 
 ous eyes upon the growing power of Napoleon, — and his accession 
 to power was the signal for an immediate alliance between 
 himself, Austria, and England, to restrict the circuit of his 
 sway. 
 
 As this cloud rose over the continental heavens, the French 
 
 people determined to invest the chief who had so often led thenf 
 4 
 
^ HIS' CDRONATIOIf. 
 
 to glorj and success with the emblem of their unlimited' eonff- 
 dence. On the SOth of April, 1804, the French Senate- 
 decreed that NapoleO'n Bonaparte aji-d his heirs forever should 
 be Emperors of France, Accordingly, en tlae 2d c^f December 
 following, Napoleon aud Josephine were crowned, in the ancien* 
 church of Notre Dame : not by the hand of the Po'pe however, 
 as was the continental custom ; conscious of the powers whicb 
 had raised him to the throne. Napoleon deelined receiving a 
 crown from mortal hands. Advancing to the altar, he lifted the- 
 golden hoop of empire, and placed it upon his head ; then Jose- 
 phine knelt down, and he crowned her also, with his own hands. 
 It is said that a look of unearthly gloom darkened the counte- 
 nance of the Emperor during this portentous solemnity, vihWe 
 his wife bowed with meekness and manifest foreboding to the 
 imperial dignity, which she was so soon and so sadly tO' resign?. 
 On the 11th of April following. Napoleon was again crowned, at 
 Milan, " King of Italy," receiving there the iron crown of 
 the Lombards, said to have been manufactured from the spikes 
 with which Christ was crucified. 
 
 I have dwelt upon some of the early ventures of Napoleon, 
 in illustration of his character. But the events of the Empire 
 thicken and accumulate beyond the compass ©f didactic exhi- 
 bition. " It is impossible," says Sir Walter Scott, " to represent 
 in mere words the campaign of 1805 : a campaigEi' in which the 
 allies raised some 400,000 men— to the destruction of whsch 
 forces Napoleon proceeded, not as at Marengo, by a general 
 engagement, but by a series of grand manoeruvers, and a train 
 of partial actions necessary to accomplish them, whieh rendered 
 resistance and retreat alike impossible. These manoeuvers cul- 
 minated in the grand battle of AusterUtz, in which two Emperors, 
 each his equal in power, laid dow^n their arms, and stood aa suppli- 
 ants for his clemency. By the treaty of Presburg, vrhich 
 
TESX. AUKRSTADT. '27 
 
 folldwed this campaign, Austria ceded to the dominions of Na> 
 poleon 20,000 square miles of territory. 
 
 But it is impossible for proud and royal houses, harboring a 
 Biost of favorites eager for distinction, long to remain quiet in 
 the odium of defeat. Scarcely had the clamor of the campaign 
 of 1805 died away, when Alexander cf Russia, with 200,000 
 men, and Frederick of Prussia, with 200,000 more, (and 
 ithese the soldiers trained in the celebrated school of Fred- 
 •erick the Great), came pouring through Bavaria, rosolved to 
 test once more the metal of the champion of the world ; while 
 Napoleon, on the other hand, exasperated at their apparent want 
 •ef faith, resolved " so to rattle his artillery about their ears that 
 Europe should remain quiet for ten years to come." 
 
 It was on the 14th of October, 1808, that the lowering brow 
 of the angry chief encountered, on the field of Jena, the formi- 
 dable legions of the Prussian king. It was indeed Greek meeting 
 Oreek ; both armies were used only to conquer, and each was 
 fighting under the immediate eye of its emperor. But the star 
 of the Corsican grew brighter in the heavens, — and as the sun 
 went down, his last rays kindled the eagles of the victorious 
 French. Then came the lesson ! — 20,000 cavalry, under " the 
 handsome swordsman" Murat, (held in reserve on purpose 
 through the day), burst on the tumultuous retreat. And as the 
 shrieking thousands fled toward Auerstadt, 12 miles distant, 
 behold ! another flying host, escaping from the smoking falchion 
 of Davoust, met them and blocked their path. The result may 
 be imagined : assailed in front and rear, 20,000 bodies strewed 
 that gory field, and 20,000 prisoners received compulsory labor 
 on the public works of France. Nearly all Prussia^ts strong 
 fortresses and walled cities, fell into the hands of the conqueror ; 
 the distressed monarch fled to the extremity of his dominions, 
 while the victor rested his limbs on a couch worthy of his laboija 
 — the couch of Frederick the Great. 
 
28 TILSIT. THE CROWN OF SPAIN. 
 
 A A ed, bat unsNverving, Alexander advanced. Several partial 
 actions paved the way for the great battle of Eylau, in which 
 both armies claimed the victory, over 50,000 dead. Both ar- 
 mies retired from the field, for five months ; but the resumption 
 of hostilities brought on the celebrated battle of Friedland, in 
 which Napoleon strewed the Russians like chaff before the wind. 
 Well might the glittering and inexperienced emperors stand 
 aghast at this genius of destruction, 
 
 *■ Like silly boys, wiio, unaware, 
 Hanging the woods to start a bare. 
 Come where a snrly, grim old bear 
 Growls amid boues and blood." 
 
 The result of this campaign was the treatj' of Tilsit. The 
 two emperors, Alexander and Napoleon, met on a raft in the 
 midst of the river Niemen, in the presence of their two armies 
 which lined either bank, and, strange for the consistancy of 
 human nature, enthusiastically embraced each other, like old 
 comrades in arms. The result of two hours of conference was 
 the treaty of Tilsit, in which were many secret stipulations ; it 
 is believed that there the youthful Czar, well content with hav- 
 ing given the great strategist his most formidable check, pledged 
 himself to the fortunes of the fascinating Bonaparte, and doubt' 
 less dreamed that, like twin giants, they should conquer hand 
 in hand. 
 
 *' And yet the end was not !" — Again, and yet again, should 
 the guns of the victorious Corsican thunder over those bloody 
 fields. Again the eagle of France should trample in the gory 
 dust the proud crest of the Hapsburg, and bear away to his 
 royal eyrie Marie Louise, the Bride of the Empire, — and again 
 the legions of the Czar should fly before him, on a path of des- 
 olation through their northern wilds, lit by the conflagration of 
 their capital. 
 
 It was on the bloody and terrible field of Eylau that a courier 
 entered the presence of Napoleon with tidings that the Spanish 
 
AUBENSLUEQ. ECKMUIIL, IIATISEON. 29 
 
 government, at the instigation of England, was raising forces to 
 operate in his rear. " The Spanish dynasty," said the galled 
 emperor, " is no more !" — It ^vas a Avord and a blow. The 
 savage and rapacious Junot passed beyond the Pyrenees, and 
 Joseph Bonaparte was king of Spain. Eut such was the obsti- 
 nate resistance of the patriotic Spanish Juntas that the retention 
 of that kingdom as a French dependency became questionable, 
 and in the end cost more than it requited. 
 
 While Napoleon was giving to Spanish affairs his personal 
 presence and consideration, and hesitating whether to make 
 formidable preparations for the utter subjugation of the kingdom, 
 he received despatches which took him hastily and almost soli- 
 tarily to Paris. The purport of these despatches was, that the 
 Austrian government, taking advantage of his temporary com- 
 plication in Spain, was pouring troops towards the boundaries of 
 his empire. 
 
 During the Prusso-Russian campaign Austria had lain like a 
 combattant fallen, but unsubdued — recreant, but revengeful, — 
 and slowly rising during this interval, and gathering all her 
 strength for one tremendous blow, she brandished the battle 
 axe once more. 550,000 inen, under the Archduke Charles — 
 the ancient victim of Napoleon's strategy, came forward to 
 revenge this long dishonor to his otherwise glorious name. — 
 550,000 men ! an army practically superior to the working 
 federal army of to-day ; fighting men, in fighting times, — prac- 
 ticed in danger, hardened in defeat ! We may well beheve 
 
 '•A battle was a battle then, 
 A bieptbing piece cf work,'' 
 
 no n^.ore to be mentioned with our military noviliate than the 
 rapid strokes of the ancient gladiator, trained from his infancy 
 for a single fight, and his stubborn knuckles armed with the fire 
 striking steel whose blow was certain death, with the random 
 strokes of an unpracticed tradesman of to-day. Mark the dif- 
 ference : against these 550,000 Austrians stood 287,000 French, 
 
so DIVORCE OF JOSEPHINE. 
 
 and Napoleon the First ; — on the 9th of April, 1809, the French 
 advanced ; on the 20th the two armies first came in contact ; in 
 three da3's — Aubensburg. Eckmuhl, and Ratisbon — the 20th, 
 21st, and 22d, and the hosts of the bold Archduke were scat- 
 tered like the leaves of Autumn before the tempestuous chief 
 who put on victory like a gnrraent, Avhile his eye scorched all 
 that it glared upon ! Add 25 days more ; enter the royal 
 apartments at Vienna — the imperial chamber of the Hapsburg ; 
 behold its couch of state, with its starry silken canopy; how 
 easily the monarch slumbers ! his boots are yet on ! has he 
 come from the chase ? — is he dreaming of his royal brother, 
 and his disconsolate host ? hist ! he cries out in his sleep — 
 French names — '* Murat! Duroc ! Macdonald ! charge !" Great 
 God ! can it be — it is — Napoleon ! 
 
 The treaty which resulted from this campaign was of a very 
 lenient character, for reasons of a matrimonial nature. 
 
 We come now to one of the saddest episodes in the history of 
 greatness. Napoleon had no heir. The mighty empire which 
 his genins had upreared — an empire beside which Rome, in her 
 day of power, was but a simple state, seemed floating to an 
 indefinite and unlineal posterity. Over its future destiny, in the 
 dreams of the people, hovered the dark goblins and gory de- 
 mons of the Revolution. But a few years had fled since the 
 streets of the bright metropolis, now the belle of cities, and the 
 museum of all splendor, had been drenched with the blood of 
 the innocent, and hushed in the Reign of Terror. The people 
 longed to be assured against the recurrence of those dreadful 
 days, and to feel that the houses and lands which should descend 
 unto their children should be protected in prospect by Napole- 
 on's child. The voice of pride, as well as the voice of the 
 French nation, had long ago dictated the divorce of Josephine. 
 But the Emperor had given to these appeals but little outward 
 encouragement. On the contrary, when hia minister, Fouche, 
 
DIVORCE OF JOSEPIIi:SfE. 81 
 
 desirous of anticipating what he conceived to be the emperor's 
 wishes, approached Josephine upon what he was pleased to de- 
 nominate " her honorable duty," Napoleon reprimanded hia 
 presumption. Yet the heart of the empress died within her 
 when she learned that the minister was too valuable to be dis- 
 missed. 
 
 Conscious, through years of devotion, of her husband's un- 
 changing love, Josephine had spoken of her most unfortunate 
 barrenness, and had been as often assured of their undivided 
 destiny. And indeed to the last days of his life Napoleon 
 believed, and said, that in divorcing his wife he " dismissed the 
 good genius in whose company alone the star of his fortune was 
 fated to shine." — For who was Josephine ? — She was not only 
 the bride of Bonaparte : she was one of the brightest and the . 
 noblest of her generation. She was a bride of a thousand 
 thousand. To her, as much even as to Luciea himself, was he* 
 indebted for the placidity Avith which he rose to the consulship, 
 on his return from Egypt. She was herself a powerful party in 
 the gay world, which, without contamination from its impurity 
 and frivolity, she had known and swayed so long. And as the 
 consciousness of her misfortune grew upon her after years, it 
 became her study, as for the salvation of her soul, to make her- 
 self useful, agreeable, indispensable to him. Originally beautiful, 
 she became the goddess of the toilet ,' from the night-watchino- 
 chambers of the ingenious Josephine went forth the fashions of 
 the civilized world. Yet it was not hy vain show of the flash 
 accomplishments of the gay world that she expected to win and 
 hold Napoleon. He was a man of an infinitesimal delicacy 
 of taste ; he was the substance of poetry and art ; no airs could 
 deceive him — no pretence have effect. Himself the most bril- 
 liant and fascinating conversationalist of the day, even as he 
 was a universal scholar, and the master spirit of his age, his 
 badinage was as the gambols of a universal gazzetteer. The 
 
32 DIVORCE or JOSEPHINE. 
 
 ripest learned in Europe stood aghast at his profundity. lie 
 diverted his mind -with logarithms, and aired himself with a 
 gallop of twenty miles a day. No man, since Alexander of 
 Macedon, had ever manifested a tithe of his energy, or impa- 
 tience. "Wild above rule or art" — reckless of death — unsleep- 
 ing — uncontrolled, save by the star of fate, she would do much 
 who could escape his displeasure, — how much more she who 
 could hold his unaltering love, — -be with him in battle and in 
 council, swaying with silken bands the headlong, worse part of 
 his nature — now denying, and now boasting of it, all in good 
 time — humble, dutiful, affectionate, yet bold as a lion, and full 
 of his own undying fire — a child of theirs could, like Atlas, 
 have shouldered the world. 
 
 But he came not. There were no traces of the empress' 
 grief,— ^yet her fate must come ; her tireless energy must dis- 
 . solve in tears ; they must separate* Not by force, — " never," 
 said Napoleon) " but by the empress' consent." Yet he knew 
 that he had but to speak, and she Avould have mounted the rack. 
 She knew that it was for France. She knew that if she sunk 
 from his embrace it was only to bow before the majesty of that 
 awful soul, that she might still be like him, whose loving kind" 
 ness was better than life; but whose disapproval, in Europe, was 
 shelterless contempt ; she must speak the word herself, in the 
 name, and for the saftey of France. 
 
 And on the l6th of December, 1809, in the grand hall of the 
 Tuilleries, in presence of the Senate, the imperial family, and 
 the ministers, the pallid and sobbing Josephine signed away the 
 title to her presence in those royal and renowned saloons, and 
 to him, their master and her own. The Man of Destiny wept, 
 and swayed like an oak in the tempest. Eugene Beauharnaia 
 fell fainting to the floor. " The tears of the Emperor," said he, 
 as he turned his eyes upon the grief-bowed Napoleon, " are 
 sufficient for the honor of my mother !" The mother, pale with 
 self-sacrifice, jet stung with the reproach which no woman can 
 
* DIVORCB UF JOSEPHINE. 33 
 
 endure, stcod firmer then ; but ^vhen the parting came, and she 
 struggled to leave him, she began to realize that he had upheld 
 the \Yeight of her misfortunes, which, when she must stand 
 alone, she feared would fall dov/n and crush her. 
 
 Midnight reigned in the palace. The Emperor, pallid and 
 worn, had retired : he felt that his star was falling. " All my 
 misfortunes," said he at St. Helena, " date from the fatal di- 
 vorce of Josephine ! 1 have known but few happy moments, 
 and for them I was indebted to her !" — He was piling the cush- 
 ions of the couch upon his head, as if to hold it down, when 
 the trembling steps of an intruder caught his ear ; he turned, 
 and the wife of his heart— the partner of sixteen years of toil 
 and glory, stood waiting for his farewell. — " My husband ! Oh ! 
 my husband !" cried the broken hearted wife, as she fell upon 
 the couch that no more was hers. And the Emperor strove to 
 soothe her through the only weakness she had ever manifested ; 
 " you shall retain your title still ; 3,000,000 of francs — six 
 times my salary as First Consul shall be yours, and you will 
 ever be my nearest, and dearest, and truest friend." — But she 
 was not weeping for " Josephine the Magnificent" — she was 
 mourning as the jealous wife, the lover of the Corsican of other 
 (Jays — the pale, the hungry, the triumphant Corsican — the 
 eagle of the Alps, the master-mind of the world ; and while he 
 talked of the necessities of state and the responsibihties of 
 greatness, she could but murmur " Napoleon ! JSTapoleon !" — 
 An hour went by — an hour of deepest love, of sorrowful but 
 glorious recollections ; the deep revolving genius of the Emperor 
 had again outreached her womanly weakness ; they would part 
 like Romans : as the clock struck One the wretched, desperate, 
 but obedient wife, staggered from his last kiss into the middle of 
 the apartment: "Farewell, immortal Bonaparte!" — "No! 
 No !" cried the Emperor — " not farewell Bonaparte — we shall 
 meet again !" — " Farewell, then, my adored husband !" and 
 Napoleon said " Farewell !" — And thus, to meet no more as 
 
34 NAPOLEON II. 
 
 wife and husband, split bj self-sacrifice to an undying honor, 
 thej parted, — but not to meet no more !— no ! on the mournful 
 rock, when the proud realm for which he suffered had almost 
 forgot him, — when the conqueror of armies lay low on his last 
 couch, and the dread Cesar murmured " like a sick girl,"-^ 
 when, to him, " the Avorld was void— the populous and the pow- 
 erful a lump" — when the gilded title that had divided them was- 
 laid down, and the wild spirit, stript for the mortal plunge, re-- 
 sumed the plain Napoleon that he was born and married in^ 
 then the Bride of the Empire was divorced in turn, and the 
 old true heart, that broke and died for the exile of Elba, came 
 back in spirit to the bedside of the hero. His last murmured 
 word was the loved name of Josephine ; and re-united on the . 
 bridal couch of death, they rose together to the land of lore. 
 
 Four months from the date of this cruel separation, Napo- 
 leon was married to Marie Louise, daughter of the Emperor 
 Francis of Austria, and an Arch-duchess of that empire. 
 
 Within twelve months from the date of this marriage the 
 French people hailed, with unfeigned joy, the birth of the in- 
 fant son of the Emperor and the new Empress, under the 
 majestic title of Napoleon II, King of Rome. 
 
 Pause for a moment, and survey the empire to which this 
 child was born. — From the rock of Gibraltar eastward to the 
 mountains where the stern Magyar scowls never-dying hatred of 
 the Hapsburg, — from the 
 
 '■ Land of the vine-clad hill and fragrant grove, 
 Of arts and arms, of genius and of love," 
 
 northward, where the Pole, with his fierce moustache commixed 
 with his horse's mane, lies dreaming of Kosciusko, — on through 
 the halls where once Voltaire, under the great monarch of his 
 age, stood king of continental letters, — yea, to the green waves 
 of the Arctic ocean, 95,000,000 of people hailed the dread 
 sovereignty of Napoleon I. His marshal, Bernadotte, was 
 
DIMENSIONS OF THE ExMPJRE. 35 
 
 King of Sweden, — His brother Joseph King of Spain, — Louis 
 nominal King of Holland, — Jerome King of Westphalia, — Eliza 
 Grand Duchess of Tuscany, — Pauline Princess of Borghese, — 
 Caroline Queen of Naples, and wife of Murat ; Eugene, his son 
 in law, Viceroy of Italy, — himself King of Italy, Grand Medi- 
 ator of the Helvetic Republic, allied by blood with Austria, and 
 leagued in friendly treaty with the " Czar of all the Russias," 
 — no mortal man had ever dreamed of such an Empire as had 
 been won by this Soldier of Fortune within sixteen years. 
 
 In three years more the pettiest Duke in Europe was too 
 great to do him reverence. 
 
 As Alexander contemplated this Austrian alliance, he assured 
 his councilors " the next step will be to drive me back into the 
 wilderness," — and this alliance was the signal for an immediate 
 alliance between Russia, England, and Sweden, (for Berna- 
 dotte was jealous of the power that had placed him on the 
 throne), to effect the restoration of the European ballance of 
 power. Thus the whole north of Europe stood combined against 
 the south. Here was to be war indeed I 
 
 From the vast dominions of his Empire Napoleon gathered 
 an army of 1,187,000 men ! To control the organization, much 
 less to master the strategy of this prodigious host, transcends 
 the faculties of ordinary men. — Dresden was the rendesvous ; 
 and there, in May, 1812, occurred a scene Avhich the annals of 
 the civilized world may never more record. Twelve crowned 
 kings — among them the Austrian, Prussian, and Saxon raon- 
 archs, and dukes and potentates without number, revolved like 
 sattelites around the sun-like Chief, whose rank, beyond expre?_ 
 sion, no insigna represented, and to whom alone they looked for 
 counsel and controll. Silent and retired, while these gilded 
 dignitaries sought diversion in dance and wine, the peerless 
 brain of Napoleon, sometimes in solitude in the midst of them, 
 was knitting the combinations which were to decide their destiny 
 
S6 RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN. 
 
 and his own — combinations which not the hand of man, but of the 
 Ahnightj, -n-as destined to defeat. 
 
 Of this Russian War, with itn numberless battles, its vast 
 range, and its inconceivable destruction, (80,000 men being 
 slain in the single battle of Borodino) we can give but a profile 
 and a glimpse. 
 
 It was the desperate but hereditary purpose of the Russian, 
 whose numbers were inferior to the French, to meet them on 
 the borders of his Empire, and to slowly retire if necessary, 
 into the wilderness of Russia, destroying all sustenance and 
 shelter as he went, — hoping to lure the confident French army 
 from its depots, and trusting to the patriotism^of his people in 
 the destruction of their property, and to the inclemency of the 
 weather, for the diminution and ultimate overthrow of the 
 French Army. That Napoleon was incapable of comprehend- 
 ing this Scythian determination was the secret of his ruin : he- 
 could not believe but that Alexander would defend his domin- 
 ions. And he advanced from Dresden accordingly with over 
 500,000 men, and the Russians were forced back before him. 
 The old, inconceivable, superhuman majesty of his marshal 
 genius, manoauvering a front of battle of S60 miles, still told 
 the baffled Czar that his enemy was the very god of war — that 
 the wonderful Corsican was undecayed. Slowly but inevitably 
 the main body of the Russians fell back during the summer, 
 destroying their towns, their grain, and all manner of sustenance 
 in their path. The French generals, aghast at such destruction, 
 counseled Napoleon to pause. " But think you," said he, 
 " that I came hither to destroy this parcel of wretched huts ?" 
 — and in defiance of objections he determined to advance with 
 160,000 men, upon Moscoav — 2,500 miles from his capital, with 
 winter approaching, — nothing doubting that a general engage- 
 ment, could he obtain it, would end the war, and that Alexander 
 would cither fight for his ancient capital, or treat for its safety. 
 
 -L 
 
BURNING OP MOSCOW. 37 
 
 But he mistook the determination of his uncompromising foe. 
 
 It was on the 14th of September, 1812, that the victorious but 
 diminished army of Napoleon (now but 100,000, one third 
 having perished on the passage) beheld the three hundred tur- 
 rets of the ancient and opulent city, whose shining copper 
 domes seemed to reflect light and glory over their past sufferings, 
 and to promise welcome and repose. But no army appeared to 
 meet them, — nor aught save a few infatuated monks, in whose 
 eyes there was a purpose lurking, could it have been discovered. 
 Alexander had struck for t^e wilderness, and left his capital to 
 share the fate of the border towns. The French invested the 
 city. But at midnight a cry arose " the city is on fire !" 
 The French turned with desperate energy to subdue the flames, 
 and during the following day partially succeeded ; but as the 
 second night set in, the detei'mined ministers of the Czar re- 
 newed their work, and the fire raged beyond all controll. For 
 five days the light of this awful conflagration lit up the northern 
 ■wilds, and showed to the retiring Czar that his vassals had done 
 his bidding, and done it well. Not a fifth of the great city of 
 nearly 300,000 inhabitants remained. The stores and provis- 
 ions and shelter, which the French had counted on, were dust 
 and ashes ! 
 
 As Napoleon turned his eyes from the enormous ruin to the 
 northern pines through which the hosts of the Czar were sup- 
 posed to have retired, he murmured " these are Scythians 
 indeed !" — " Palaces and temples," says a Russian author, 
 "monuments of art, and miracles of luxury — the remains of 
 ages that had passed away, and those that had been the creation 
 of yesterday, — the tombs of ancestors^ and the nursery cradles 
 of the present generation, were alike and indiscriminately des" 
 troyed. Nothing remained of the great city but the remem- 
 brance of its beauty, and the deep determination to revenge 
 its fall." 
 
 As the genius of Napoleon grasped the difficulties of his 
 
38 RETREAT FROM MOSCOW. 
 
 Situation, he almost knelt to his youthful foe. He dispatched a 
 messenger, (a Russian officer who had been detained by sick- 
 ness in the city) whose last instructions were, " I must have 
 peace, and -will sacrifice, to obtain it, all, save honor." But the 
 resolved and mournful Czar, weeping over the ashes of his 
 wasted Empire, answered not a word. The mighty heart of the 
 Corsican swelled at this rebuff ; he never had been baffled be- 
 fore. " On to St. Petersburgh," he cried, with the voice of 
 one that would conquer or die, " and let the modern capital 
 share the fate of her ancient sister !"»— But the French officers 
 who had opposed the advance upon Moscow were now clamorous 
 to return ; and as Napoleon reflected upon the dangers of being 
 so long absent from his capital, ms purpose changed, and he 
 resolved to retreat. 
 
 The retreat of the French army from Moscow to Poland, 
 through a thousand miles of snow and wilderness, of battle and 
 of blood, stands out in the world's history as the subhme of 
 horror, of passion and devotion. Not the slaughter of the inno- 
 cents, nor the massacre of St. Bartholemew's, nor plague, nor 
 earthquake, nor aught, save the great Flood itself, so overwhelms 
 the mind with the burden of grief, terror and desolation. The 
 legends of that awful path come down from mouth to mouth by 
 the firesides of Europe ; and the direful tale will still be told 
 when Xerxes and Alexander, and Atilla and Charlemagne shall 
 have sunk out of the earth's remembrance. 
 
 As if rebuking the sagest calculations of philosophy, snow 
 fell twenty days earlier than had been known for many years — 
 fell in vast quantities, and was attended with most inclement 
 gales, and biting frost. The French, burned with the sun in 
 the summer months, had thrown their spare clothing away ; and 
 now their shoes were worn out with toilsome marches, their pro- 
 visions were exhausted, naught save their horses, jaded and lean, 
 remained for them to eat. The Russians, on the other hand, 
 
RETREAT FROM MOiCOW. 89^ 
 
 well clad, inured to the terrible climate, flash in all provisions 
 and munitions of \Yar, returned upon their path like vultures, 
 and lined the passes in front and rear, and on every side. 
 
 Such was even the beginning of their retreat over a route on 
 which the advance had not left even the bones and husks of 
 human sustenance. There was no manifest design on the part 
 of the Russians to give general battle, but rather to harrass them 
 to death. The name of Napoleon hovered over and protected 
 the solemn host. 
 
 Thirty thousand men, under the dauntless Ney, the palladiAim 
 of Bonaparte, and next to him the hero of heroes, formed the 
 rear-guard of this dread retreat. 
 
 There was battle every day in front and rear. The unsleep- 
 ing eye of the Emperor covered every point of strategy. He 
 could not be baffled ; he could not be kept back. Calculation 
 after calculation, based upon the supposed positions of the other 
 divisions of the grand army, — calculations which the pen of 
 history has not recorded — which the brain of no man remembers 
 — yea, which the brain of but one man ever conceived, lost in that 
 wilderness of blood and sorrow, the sublimest tragedy ot the 
 earth, still saved him, as at the last moment, from destruction, 
 and still the struggling army made its way, famishing, freezing, 
 perishing. But one in fourteen had been able to endure, — their 
 bodies strewed the wilderness. And squadron after squadron 
 had been sent back to recruit the toiling band of the fighting 
 Ney. At one time there came a rumor that the rear-guard 
 were being overpowered : — in a moment, immortal honor to hia 
 generous memory ! Napoleon reversed his march with but 9,000 
 guards to retrace the wilderness, against ten times his odds, and 
 to save his friend or perish with him. " There are 200,000,000 
 in gold in the vaults of the Tuilleries," said he, " and I would 
 give it all to know the safety of Marshal Ney" — and again the 
 fiory valor of the cheery shout, " Live the Emperor !" stung 
 
40 RETREAT FROM MOSCOW. 
 
 back the bitter and remorseless air, as Napoleon himself, on 
 oot like the rest, with a beechen stai! in his hand, back to almost 
 nevicable destruction, trudged through the bloody snow. 
 
 What a wreck was here of all that glorious host ! Napoleon 
 crossed the Dnieper with 6,000 guards, out of 35,000 ; Eugene 
 1,800 out of 42,000 ; and Davoust, stript even to his shirt, led 
 4,000 squalid and dying followers-— the remams, from cold, 
 famine, and the sword, of over 70,000 men. 
 
 But J 2,000 of the Grand Army remained in discipline ! 
 with not a single cannon. 
 
 Yet in the wake of these, there came a half faiflishing, mur- 
 derous throng of 80,000 wretches, without discipline, and 
 without remorse. No man has dared — and few have lived, to 
 tell of all the horrors of that moving pandemonium. It was 
 forbidden to speak of it. The more enduring stripped off the 
 clothing from the faint hearted, and the strong dashed out the 
 brains of the weak for no more inducement than the hoof of a 
 dead horse. There were moaning suflerers who gnawed with 
 desperation the fragments of old shoes, or clutched some flesh. 
 less bone like a miser, who fears assassination for his gold ; yea, 
 the meagre by the meagre were devoured, — cannibal fiends, who 
 fain would see the firesides of France, and the bright eyes of 
 their loved ones once more, concealed under their shrunken 
 arms the warm and wasted flesh of the new-fallen corpse. 
 
 God forbid that such another tragedy should blacken the an* 
 nals of the world ! 
 
 But above in interest, and beyond all these, stands the sublime 
 devotion of Marshal Ney. Like a star that keeps its orbit, and 
 we know not why, save for the deep integrity of its nature, ho 
 could not quit his post. With a meagre band of 700 men, and 
 a musket in his hand, he held the bridge of Konow, until the 
 last of the grand army had gone over in safety, and the last 
 
TUS REACTION. 41 
 
 grenailicr fell a corpse at his feet. Scorning to fly, or even to 
 turn his face frooi the enemy, he retreated baclcwartl over the 
 bi'idgo, while the bullets whisiled all around him, — and firing 
 the last shot into the Russian niiiks, he ihrc.v the cini»ty piece 
 into the river ! * * On the night of the 12ch of December, 
 as Gen. Dumas was seated in consultation with a physician oa 
 the German side of the river, a gaunt, hairy, spectral looking 
 man, in a tattered military cloak, entered the apartment, and 
 said, with a sepulchral voice, '-At last I am here!" "And 
 who are you ?" said Dumas, rising hastily, and with suspicion. 
 ♦' Do you not know me, General ?" " No!" — Folding lils rags 
 upon his marrfal breast, the apparation answered, " I am the 
 rear-guard of the Grand Army, — and my name is — T^Iarshal 
 Ney ; I have fired the last shot, and the last musket sleeps ia 
 the mud of the river!" 
 
 Well might the youth, and blood, and chivalry of France, of 
 all that fought in Egypt, Syria, or Italy, bow their consenting 
 eyes, as Napoleon himself unbonnetted his royal head, and 
 hailed him as the " Bravest of the brave." 
 
 A ■wail of despair and horror, as of Rachael mourning for her 
 children, rose from the stricken bosom of poor France, drown- 
 ing the glory of Napoleon in an ocean of salt tears. Ilia 
 generals, even his brother-in-law, Murat, fled fiom him to escape 
 the universal condemnation, — and his allies, even his father-in- 
 law of Austria, snatched their co'ors from his ranks, and sv.-oro 
 to league them with his enemies, and lash him like a monster 
 from the world. 
 
 But the hero of a hundred fights was not soon to bo subdued. 
 Ordering a conscription of 350,000 men, in the Spring he again 
 took the field. And then began the most despciate and diffi- 
 cult series of engagements which Europe had yet beheld, as 
 assailed by foes in cabinet and foes in the field, and laboring 
 
42 AeAIN IN THE FIELD; 
 
 under an odium as of the scourge of God, the whole soul of the 
 Titan sprang into the fray, and he taught the world that only 
 against incalculable odds could the whole force of his spirit 
 come to bear, and how little of his greatness Europe had yet 
 required. Forward and backward, all through the summer of 
 1813, surged the tide of battle, and winter came, and still he 
 had held his own against all the combinations of his trebly out- 
 numbering enemies. 
 
 Again in the following Spring Napoleon demanded a conscrip- 
 tion of 300,000 men. But the Senate, grown bold by their 
 master's misfortunes, demurred, and a stormy debate ensued, 
 in consequence of which but a small portion of t^e conscription 
 was raised. Still he took the field. — But the long pageant of 
 the Bonapartal glory was on the wane. His generals were 
 peevish, recriminating, and discordant, — the troops were dis- 
 couraged at the tremendous odds, and only confusion and ruin 
 was the result. In triumphant march the allies crowded upon 
 Paris ; Marie Louise escaped to her father, and the representa- 
 tive bodies fled the city. — A truce was demanded, and accorded, 
 — but the allies refused to treat with Bonaparte, alleging that 
 their only purpose was the restoration of the Bourbons, and 
 their only terms the abdication of the reigning Emperor. 
 
 Disheartened at the treachery of friends whose fortunes he 
 had made, and disgusted with the allies whose aid forsook his 
 adversity, on the 4th of April, 1814, the Conqueror of Europe 
 dashed his crown upon the earth. " From the sublime to tha 
 rediculous," said he, " is but a step !" 
 
 The allied powers, even after their eager and vindictive pur- 
 suit of Napoleon, had yet so much of that respect for him which 
 he personally ever inspired that they declined to strip him of his 
 title, or to place over him any other than a nominal surveillance. 
 It was finally arranged that he should retain the title of Em- 
 
ELDA. -CONGRESS OF VIENNA. 43 
 
 j)eror, and that he should assume the Island of Elba for a 
 residence and a possession. 
 
 We will pass over the year through ^vh^ch Napoleon reigned 
 as Emperor of Elba, with the single remark, that hs appeared 
 to live, and desired to be thought upon, as one dead to the polit- 
 ical world. He seemed deeply engaged in writing memoirs of 
 his life, of whose adventurous course thi# book should be the 
 end. 
 
 The Congress of Vienna — the congress of the allied powers, 
 was still in session. They had restored the Bourbon dynasty, 
 -and were slowly, through a thousand delicate details of remu- 
 neration and reconstructioB, distributing to their former patentees 
 the vast aggrandizements of Napoleon's Empire. Their labor 
 approached a satisfactory termination, and the dull refulgence of 
 the ancient regime seemed once more to radiate from its legitimate 
 crowns, when, suddenly, tidings came to the convention that 
 the dead man, whose estate they were dividing, had revived, — 
 escaped from Elba, returned to France, and at the head of 
 200,000 soldiers again defied the world to arms ! — It seemed 
 so like a trick in pantomime — so like a fiend leaping out of a 
 'bottle, that the Congress. is said to have received the intelligence 
 with anything but chagrin, and showed a full appreciation of ■ 
 the rather ludicrous predicament by bursts of merriment and 
 jests upon his Satanic Majesty. 
 
 It was indeed true. A few months experience of the gross 
 and tyranical government of " Louis the Hog," disgusted the 
 fastidious and mercurial French nation, and sighing like a fur- 
 nace, its heart followed the brilliant Bonaparte to his island of 
 empire and banishment. — Never was the mastery of his genius 
 more conspicuous than now. Almost alone, relying on the pres- 
 tige of his glorious deeds, he turned, for sovereignty or death, 
 to the land of his fame. Nor was he deceived in his anticipa 
 tlons. Traversing the .country, toward Paris, in an open 
 
44 IN PARIS AQAIS". 
 
 carriage, he was greeted everywhere by acclamations of the 
 people. ArrivcJ at Grenoble, with about GOO followers, the 
 royal garrison was drawn out to arrest hira. But Napoleon, 
 advancing alone from the litlle knot of his friends, bared his 
 breast to the Bourbon bayonets, and cxelaimed, '• he that will 
 kill his Einperoi-, let hitn work his pleasure ! here I am." In 
 vain were the troops oraered to fire. Ballets could not quench 
 that lofcy soul. Dashing their muskets to the earth, the troops 
 rushed forward in disorder, fell upon the ground about hina, 
 embraced his knees, and begged to be led once more to victory. 
 On to Pans surged the growing throng, Napoleon scattering 
 proclamation after proclamation in his passage, undoing the ty- 
 ranical behests of the Bourbon, and promising everywhere 
 reform and reconstruction. But as they drew near the capital, 
 behold the " rear-guard of the Grand Army"! Marshal Ney, 
 with all the garrisons of Paris, stood across his path ! Ney 
 alleged that Napoleon had been unjust to him, and he had ac- 
 cepted a commission under the restored dynastj'. lie stood at 
 his post, and swore by the memory of his valor and his wrongs, 
 by the word of a man of h^nor, by the oath of a soldier under 
 the Bourbon King, that he would " bring Napoleon to Paris 
 l.ko a wild beast in a cage ; and the man who should refuse to 
 fire on him at his bidding should be thrust up to the hilt." — 
 Vain boast ! — the merest contortion of tlic countenance. Na- 
 poleon found means to meet Ney fiice to face ; his words were 
 few ; extending his hand, and averting his head, he murmured, 
 " Bravest of the brave !" — A thousand memories crowded on 
 the warrior's soul, and ho fell, a suppliooit, on his master's breast. 
 The rock which miglit have split the tossing bark of Bonaparto 
 ^va3 crushed in full career, — the rock on which the Bourbon 
 throne was resting ; and as the two soldiers embraced each 
 other, tlie Bourbon monnfbli fled from the French capital. — 
 Tumult and enthusiasm filled the streets, until at last, borno 
 upon the shoulders of men up the great stair of the Tuilleries, 
 
«. WATERLOO. 45 
 
 Kapoleon Avaa seated in state, and amid thunders of artillerjr 
 ^•as hailed as Emperor once more. 
 
 Yet ho was fully conscioas of the liectic character of this 
 success. lie strug^zled earnestly for an alliance wi'li England • 
 lis strove by every means to molity the allies, but in vain ; — • 
 widi 1,100,000 men they cair.c pourinj; back upon him. Fear- 
 ful of venturing upon conscription, nnd numbering but 200,000 
 men, Napoleon had but one hope, which was, by sumtnoning the 
 ■whole force of his miraculous genius to one terrible blow, to 
 destroy some portion of the allied army before it could concen- 
 trate, and thus gain time for the reconstruction of his shattered 
 Empire, and the reorganization of his army. The result of this 
 determination was the last of his battles — the battle of Waterloo. 
 The importance of this event renders a brief description of it 
 here both necessary and interesting. 
 
 The only forces immediately imminent were some 60.000 
 English and Germans, under Vv^ellington, in the vicinity of Brus- 
 sels, and about 100,000 Prusi^ians under Prince Marshal 
 Blucher, in the neighborhood of Lignv. Napoleon conceived 
 the design, considered both bold and scientific, of entering be- 
 tween these two armies and engaging them simultaneously. — 
 Ney, with 45,000 men was to attack Wellington ; 10,000 men 
 to be stationed midway between Wellington and Blucher ; while 
 Napoleon, with the remainder of his forces, should give battle 
 to the Prussians. The attack was made on the 16th of June, 
 1815, and in both directions the French were successful. Tho 
 Prussians retreated in good order, and Wellington fell back upon 
 the village of Waterloo. Napoleon now hesitated (a thing 
 unusual with him) whether to join all his troops to those of 
 Marshal Ney, and advance in force against Wellington, or to 
 dispatch a portion of his army to pursue the advantage gained 
 over Marshal Blucher. For two-thirds of a day the mind of 
 Bonaparte wavered in this dilemma. He felt his position to be 
 terribly critical, and he had not that " cheer of mind that he 
 
46 WATERLOO. 
 
 ■was wont to have." Late on the 17th he determined to spare 
 30,000 men, under Marshal Grouchy, to pursue the Prussians, 
 and hastened with the remainder of his forces to form a junction 
 with Nej. 
 
 The memorable 18th of June dawned cloudy and dull, and 
 the ground was muddy with recent rains. By eleven o'clock the 
 spleen, dash, and alacrity of the now desperate Bonaparte were 
 startling the cool sagacity of the already famous Wellington. 
 The forces were nearly equal, and victory seemed all the day 
 wavering from side to side, until nearly seven o'clock in the 
 afternoon. The French are considered to have had the best of 
 the conflict ; Wellington was heard to exclaim ; " Oh that 
 Blucher or night were come !" — But suddenly a rapid and des- 
 ultory cannonade was heard upon the English right, and the 
 banners of the old Prussian huzzar were visible against the 
 woods ! In an instant Napoleon discovered that he had been 
 outgeneraled, — that Blucher had probably retired from the 
 battle of the 16th v.-ith the design of forming a junction with 
 Wellington. Yet, hoping against hope, that Grouchy was in the 
 Prussian's immediate rear, or perchance driving him in, he 
 determined to hold the field long enough to take advantage of 
 this conjecture. To do this it was necessary to bring into the 
 action his entire reserve — the Old Guard. — There was a lull in 
 the voice of the battle, " and the boldest held his breath for 
 a time," as this formidable host that had swept the battle-fields 
 of Europe so oft?n, that had turned the tide of so many bloody 
 days, and never had charged in vain, now, to the prophetic 
 mandate of the Bravest of the Brave, strode forward Avith the 
 Empire on their shoulders, and in a long wave of courage and 
 enthusiasm dashed on the rocky hardihood of the British gren- 
 adiers, " their deathless valor soaring to the gods." Three 
 times was Marshal Ney unhorsed ; and at length, on foot, fight- 
 ing sword in hand, he was summoned to surrender. Cambronne 
 returned the immortal answer, " The Guard dies —it never 
 
*. AN OUTCAST. 47 
 
 surrenders !" — an^i in the entbnaiasra of the moment the French 
 lost all du^cipliuc and order, and fought every man for himself, 
 hand to baud amid the British ranks. "Alas," 'said Napoleon, 
 " they are all ill confusion! all is over!" and reining up his 
 horse, he attempted to gallop into the midst of the fight, and 
 die like a Roman with the soldiers -whom he had cherished. 
 But an aid seized the bridle, crying " Death shuns you, Sire ! 
 — you will only be taken prisoner," — and deterred the rash 
 design. At this moment, the Prussians have gained a perma- 
 nent position on the field, Wellington ordered the \Yhole British 
 line to advance. The Guard was immediately surrounded, and 
 utterly destroyed, — the remainder of the French fled in dismay, 
 — and the star of the glorious Corsican followed the sunken 
 sun. 
 
 Never was conqueror more utterly cast down. Broken in 
 spirit, and, worse than all, beaten by superior strategy, and 
 taught at last that bitter lesson which so many generals had 
 learned from him, on the night of tliis never-to-be-forgotten 18th 
 of June — a moonlight night of a bloody Sabbath day, he fled 
 to Paris, pale as death, and the allies came thundering on his 
 'path. In vain he resigned his crown in favor of Napoleon II. 
 In vain he offered his services as Generalissimo of the Parisian 
 forces, to defend the capital. In vain he offered himself as a 
 common soldier in the ranks of his country. There was no 
 longer faith in him. With terrified alacrity the Senate decreed 
 his forfeiture, and the Conqueror of Europe had not where to 
 lay his head. 
 
 In this terrible extremity he bethought him of America, and 
 hither he resolved to fly. — Oh!evtr thus, in the hour of his 
 darkness, may the outcast remember the Flag of the Free ! 
 For eighty years, in triumph and defiance, in Avelcome and 
 respect, it has Avaved over land and sea! For eighty years 
 beneath it, Columbia, with outstretched arms, has proffered home 
 
48 BT. HELENA. 
 
 to tho exile, and bread to tlic perisliing. And wherever joii 
 go, — 'ill cverv capital of Lho old woild, — throui^h I'oval lialis, 
 wiicro hii^her art, and deeper learning, and cheauer labor, have 
 made splendid tho step|jini^g of nion;iiclii;d pride, — where tho 
 Avealch, and caste, and aristociacy of the old nations have lured 
 together the \vit and beauty of every clime, the siuijjle name 
 and dress of an American citizen have been a frequent passport 
 to welcome and respect. And on every sea where the wings of 
 commerce ilutter, a cheer or a gun from the world-roving sailor 
 greets the Star-Spangled Baiuier as the Rainbow of Freedom 
 — the hope of the world, — and brightest in the storm ! 
 
 But every cask, and bale, and package that came out from a 
 French port was rigidly cxaniined by the vigilant English, who 
 anticipated his escape. The attempt was vain ; and as a last 
 resort he threw himself on the mercy of England — his most 
 honorable foe. — It was a fatal miscalculation. For the breaker 
 of his parole the Lion had no jncrcy. Alexander had nothing 
 to oflfer ; he had tears for his love, and joy for his fortune, but 
 he brooked not his vast ambition. Stripped of his title, his 
 freedom, and his wealth, deserted by his wife, and deprived of 
 his child, he was bound, like Prometheus, to a rock in the ocean, 
 ■where the vulture of ambition should gnaw his heart away. 
 
 A thousand interesting memories cling around his lonely exile 
 at St. Helena, where, in company with a few faithful followers, 
 upon a general's salary, and under constant guard, he wiled away 
 nearly six weary years. But time would fail us.-Widi dignity and 
 patience, as became one who had ever defended the divinity of 
 Christ, and rebuked the scorner of religion, he bowed to his des- 
 tiny. Dismissing all his attendants, alone Avith God and his 
 gentle minister, he poured out into the car of the priest those 
 secrets of his heart which the woi'ld may never know ; and on 
 the night of the 5ih of May, 1821, a night of storm and dark- 
 ness, that uprooted the trees ^Yhich he had fondly planted en 
 
nf PAfeis AaAi»'. 4^ 
 
 St. Helena, and shook with the billows of the African Atlantic 
 his rock-bound prison-home, — murmuring incoherently, "Franco 
 — head of the Army — Josephine" — and the Soldier of Destiny 
 was no more. 
 
 For twenty years his body lay buried at St. Helena, until, 
 in 1840, Louis Phillippe, at the earnest instigation of the French 
 people, brought his remains to Paris. Amid a pomp and pa- 
 geantry of which even France had never dreamed, he was borne 
 up the Seine— borne upon the shoulders of men under the 
 porch of the Church of the Invalides, and amid salvos of artillery 
 that made the brain of the world reel with glory and with sor- 
 row, he slept at last where he had wished to sleep — " on the 
 banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people whom he 
 tad loved so well." 
 
 The tale is told. The long roll of his ailaruoaing drum, and 
 the booming of his mortal cannonade, have died away. Peace 
 spread her soothing wing o'er the trampled fields of his battles 
 and his fame ; but many a heart beat sadly for his fortunes, 
 and poised the blamse between his enemies and him'. Let himi 
 be judged only by the peers of his genius, his valor, and his vir- 
 tue, and ages shall wait upon his condemnation'. 
 
 A word more, and I have done. — The heroes of history are 
 the emblems of nations, and bespeak their characters in agea 
 past. We have our hero, and France has hers ; and both catch 
 their peculiar glory from the genius of the people. Not that I 
 would measure Washington by Bonaparte, nor yet by far that I 
 would measure Bonaparte by Washington. The one stands like 
 Mount Atlas — cold, simple, and severe, and his icy brow " re- 
 flects the twilight of celestial dawns ;" the other, like Vesuvius, 
 from his burning heart astounds the heavens with thunder and 
 destruction. No ! the mould is cracked that framed our goodly 
 loldier ; we shall not look upon his hke again. He is the bond 
 of our Union ; his name is written on the belt that binds this 
 
liiiipiiiniii 
 019 644 474 9 
 
 50 BONAPARTE AND WASHINaTON. 
 
 western world. Fan this mad conflagration until its demoniae' 
 light shall glitter in the stony eyes of the farthest despot on 
 the globe, — ^let not a stone be left upon another of this Union 
 that shall not be thrown down — ^yet, from the dust of a hundred 
 years* disruption and prostration, column and tablet and frieze 
 will rise in order as to the music of Amphion, and dance back 
 into the temple of Liberty, to the magic of our great Virginian's 
 name. — Nor yet was he too lotty to be loved ! As long as 
 time shall be, to tell that such men have been, — as long as hu- 
 manity shall breathe a prayer, that such may be hereafter, — as 
 long as the graceful steamer, be it peace or war, shall droop 
 ter flag, and fire a booming shot over the grave of Pater Pat- 
 rise, so long shall it never disgrace the manliest eye that ever 
 glittered in the face of death, to drop the tear of an enthusiast 
 love over thy memory, immortal Washington ! But Napoleon I 
 the child of genius, glory, and misfortune — the peerless hero, 
 and the generous friend, was loved as with the love of woman ! 
 Take him at his worst, and seas of suffering have washed out his 
 continents of crime : and give to his ambition the charity of 
 self-love, that would rule the world because he best could rulo 
 it, — forgive to temptation the later frailties of his baflSed life,- 
 and side by side with Washington himself, he might go 
 
 " Through the bellowing Foram 
 
 And round the SuppU«Bfs Grove', 
 Up to the everlasting gates 
 
 Of Capitolian Jove.'' 
 
 And as long as the sun shall shine on the vines and flowers of 
 the land of France, — as long as her monuments of art and 
 splendor shall bear record of his rule, so long shall the sons of the 
 soldiers who went with him weep at his statue in the Place Ven- 
 dome — shall sigh to the child of Empire, and the wonder of his 
 race, " Live Napoleon !" 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 iiiiiii!riiiiiiiiiii;!iiiiliililiilll'i)llillillllllll 
 
 019 644 474 9 
 
 #