Carnot has been repeatedly mentioned in this history as having been the associate and colleague of Robespierre during the whole Reign of Terror. His admirers pretend, that charging himself only with the conduct of the foreign war, he left to his brethren of the Committee of Public Safety the sole charge of those measures, for which no human language affords epithets of sufficient horror, through which they originally rose to power, and by which they maintained it. According to these fond advocates, their hero held his course through the Reign of Terror, unsullied by a bloody spot, as Arethusa rolled her waters through the ocean without mingling with its waves; and the faith of most readers will swallow the ancient miracle as easily as the modern. Carnot, however, had the independence of spirit to oppose Napoleon's seizure of the throne, and remained in obscurity until 1814, when he employed his talents as an engineer in defence of Antwerp. He gave in, late and reluctantly, his adherence to the restoration, and was confirmed in his rank of inspector-general of engineers. But this did not prevent him from being extremely active in conspiring the downfall of the monarch to whose allegiance he had submitted himself, and who afforded him subsistence and rank.

Carnot gave his opinion upon public affairs in a "Memorial to his most Christian Majesty," made public in October, 1814, which was at once an apology for the Jacobin party, and a direct attack on the reigning dynasty. This document we must necessarily consider at some length, as it conveys the ostensible reasons on which the author, and many thousands besides, having in their anxious consideration the interests of the freedom of France, thought these interests would be best provided for by destroying the sway of a mild and somewhat feeble monarch, whose reign was identified with peace and tranquillity, in order to recall to the throne an absolute sovereign, ruling on military principles only, and whose first step under the canopy of state must necessarily be followed by war with all Europe.

In this singular, and, as it proved, too effective production, every fault committed by the restored family is exaggerated; and they, with the nobles, their personal adherents, are, under a thin and contemptuous veil of assumed respect towards the King, treated alike as fools, who did not understand how to govern France, and as villains, who meditated her ruin. The murder of the King is, with irony as envenomed as unjust, stated to have been occasioned, not by the violence and cruelty of his persecutors, but by the pusillanimity of his nobility, who first provoked the resentment of the nation, and then fled from the kingdom, when, if they had loved their sovereign, they should have rallied around him.[85] This plea, in the mouth of a regicide, is as if one of a band of robbers should impute an assassination not to their own guilty violence, but to the cowardice of the domestics of the murdered, by whom that violence might have been resisted.

No one also knew better than Carnot by what arts Louis XVI. was induced by degrees to abandon all means of defence which his situation afforded him, and to throw himself upon the sworn faith and allegiance of those by whom he was condemned to death. As whimsical and unlogical were the examples and arguments referred to by Carnot in support of the condemnation of Louis. Cicero, it seems, says in his Offices, "We hate all those we fear, and we wish for the death of those we hate." On this comprehensive ground, Carnot vindicates the orator's approbation of the death of CÆsar, notwithstanding the clemency of the usurper; "and Cato, indeed" (continues the colleague of Robespierre,) "went farther, and did not think it possible there should be a good king." Of course, not Louis XVI. alone, but all monarchs, might be justly put to death in Carnot's estimation; because they are naturally the objects of fear to their subjects—because we hate those we fear—and because, according to the kindred authority of Shylock, no man "hates the thing he would not kill."[86] The doctrine of regicide is said to be confirmed in the Old Testament; families were massacred—monarchs proscribed—intolerance promulgated, by the ministers of a merciful deity: Wherefore, then, should not the Jacobins put Louis XVI. to death? If it was alleged, that the persons of Kings were inviolable by the laws of all civil governments, those of usurpers certainly were not so protected; and what means were there, said Carnot, for positively distinguishing between an usurper and a legitimate king?—The difficulty of making such a distinction was no doubt a sufficient vindication of the judges of Louis XVI.

Trash like this had scarce been written since the club-room of the Jacobins was closed. But the object of Carnot's pamphlet was not to excuse a deed (which he would probably have rather boasted of as laudable,) but by the exaggerations of his eloquence, and the weight of his influence with the public, to animate the fury of the other parties against the Bourbons and their adherents. The King was charged with having been ungrateful to the call of the nation—(a call which assuredly he would never have heard but for the cannon of the allies,)—with having termed himself King by the grace of God—with resigning Belgium when Carnot was actually governor of Antwerp—with preferring Chouans, VendÉans, emigrants, Cossacks, or Englishmen, to the soldiers whose victories had kept him in exile, and in consequence of whose defeat alone he had regained the throne of his fathers. The emigrants are represented as an exasperated, yet a contemptible faction. The people, it is said, care little about the right of their rulers—about their quarrels—their private life, or even their political crimes, unless as they affect themselves. All government, of course, has its basis in popular opinion; but, alas! in actual history, "the people are only regarded," says M. Carnot, "as the victims of their chiefs; we witness nothing but the contest of subjects for the private interest of their princes—kings, who are themselves regicides and parricides—and priests who incite mankind to mutual slaughter. The eye can but repose on the generous efforts of some brave men who consecrate themselves to the deliverance of their fellow-countrymen; if they succeed, they are called heroes—if they fail, they are traitors and demagogues." In this and other passages, the author plainly intimated what spirits were at work, and what was the object of their machinations. The whole pamphlet was designed as a manifesto to the French public, darkly, yet distinctly, announcing the existence of a formidable conspiracy, the principles on which its members proceeded, and their grounds for expecting success.

Carnot himself affected to say, that the Memorial was only designed for circulation among his private connexions.[87] But it would not have answered the intended purpose had it not been printed and dispersed with the most uncommon assiduity. Small carts traversed the boulevards, from which it was hawked about among the people, in order to avoid the penalties which booksellers and stationers might have incurred by dealing in an article so inflammatory. Notwithstanding these evasions, the printers and retailers of this diatribe were prosecuted by government; but the Cour d'Instruction refused to confirm the bill of indictment, and this failure served to encourage the Jacobin faction. The official proceedings, by which the ministers endeavoured to suppress the publication, irritated rather than intimidated those who took interest in it. It argued, they said, at once a timorous and a vindictive spirit to oppress the inferior agents in an alleged libel, while the ministers dared not bring to trial the avowed author.[88] In this unquestionably they argued justly; for the measures corresponded with that paltry policy, which would rather assail the liberty of the press, than bring to fair trial and open punishment those by whom it is misused.

It would have been as impossible for FouchÉ to have lived amid such a complicated scene of political intrigue, without mingling in it, as for the sparks to resist flying upwards. He was, however, ill-placed for the character he desired to act. After having lent Buonaparte his aid to betray and dethrone the Directors, he had long meditated how to dethrone and betray Buonaparte, and substitute in his place a regency, or some form of government under which he might expect to act as prime minister. In this undertaking, he more than once ran the peril of life, and was glad to escape with an honourable exile. We have already stated that he had missed the most favourable opportunity for availing himself of his political knowledge, by his absence from Paris when it was taken by the allies. FouchÉ endeavoured, however, to obtain the notice of the restored monarch and his government, and to render his services acceptable to Louis. When the celebrated Revolutionist appeared in the antechamber on his first attendance at court, he observed a sneer on the countenance of some Royalists who were in waiting, and took the hint to read them a lesson, showing, that a minister of police, even when he has lost his office, is not a person to be jested with. "You, sir," said he to a gentleman, "seem proud of the lilies with which you are adorned. Do you recollect the language you held respecting the Bourbon family some time since in such a company?—And you, madam," he continued, addressing a lady, "to whom I gave a passport to England, may perhaps wish to be reminded of what then passed betwixt us on the subject of Louis XVIII." The laughers were conscience-struck, and FouchÉ was introduced into the cabinet.

The plan which FouchÉ recommended to the King was, as might have been expected, astucious and artificial in a high degree. He advised the King to assume the national cockade and three-coloured flag; to occupy the situation of chief of the Revolution. This, he said, would be the same sacrifice by Louis XVIII. as the attending on the mass by Henry IV.—He might have added, it was the sacrifice actually made by Louis XVI., who lost his life in requital.—What FouchÉ aimed at by this action is evident. He desired to place the King in a situation where he must have relied exclusively on the men of the Revolution, with whom he could not have communicated save by the medium of the Duc d'Otranto, who thus would become prime minister at the first step. But in every other point of view, the following that advice must have placed the King in a mean and hypocritical attitude, which must have disgusted even those whom it was adopted to conciliate.

By assuming the colours of the Revolution, the King of France must necessarily have stained himself with the variation of each of its numerous changes. It is true that the Revolution had produced many excellent improvements in France, affecting both the theory and the practice of government. These the sovereign was bound carefully to preserve for the advantage of the nation. But while we are grateful for the advantages of increased health and fertility that may follow a tornado, and treasure up the valuable things which an angry ocean may cast upon the shore, none but a blinded heathen worships the tempest, or sacrifices to the furious waves. The King, courting the murderers of his brother, could inspire, even in them, nothing save disgust at his hypocrisy, while it would justly have forfeited the esteem and affection, not of the royalists alone, but of all honest men.

Further to recommend himself to the Bourbons, FouchÉ addressed a singular epistle to Napoleon, in which he endeavoured to convince him, that the title of sovereign, in the paltry islet of Elba, did not become him who had possessed an immense empire. He remarked to Napoleon, that the situation of the island was not suitable to his purpose of retirement, being near so many points where his presence might produce dangerous agitation. He observed that he might be accused, although he was not criminal, and do evil without intending it, by spreading alarm. He hinted that the King of France, however determined to act with justice, yet might be instigated by the passions of others to break through that rule. He told the Ex-Emperor of France, that the titles which he retained were only calculated to augment his regret for the loss of real sovereignty. Nay, that they were attended with positive danger, since it might be thought they were retained only to keep alive his pretensions. Lastly, he exhorted Napoleon to assume the character of a private individual, and retire to the United States of America, the country of Franklin, Washington, and Jefferson.[89]

FouchÉ could scarcely expect that this monitory epistle should have much effect upon his once imperial master; he knew human nature and Buonaparte too well. But as it might tell to advantage with the royal family, he sent a copy of it to Monsieur, with a corresponding commentary, the object of which was to point out (what, indeed, circumstances had made evident,) that the tranquillity of the countries and sovereigns of Europe could never be secured while Napoleon remained in his present condition, and that his residence in the isle of Elba was to France what Vesuvius is to Naples.[90] The practical inference to be derived from this was, that a gentle degree of violence to remove the person of Napoleon would have been a stroke of state policy, in case the Ex-Emperor of France should not himself have the patriotic virtue to remove himself to America. The honourable and generous prince, to whom FouchÉ had addressed himself, had too noble a mind to adopt the hint; and this attempt to ingratiate himself with the Bourbon family entirely failed. But plotting was FouchÉ's element; and it seems to have signified little to him whom he had for partners, providing he had a stake in the political game. He retired to his country-house, and engaged himself with his old friends of the Jacobin party, who were not a little glad to avail themselves of his extensive acquaintance with all the ramifications of political intrigue.

It was the policy of this party to insist upon the faults of the royal family, and enlarge on their prejudices against the men and measures of that period when France was successful in foreign war, against the statesman who directed, and the soldiers who achieved her gigantic enterprises. The King, they said, had suffered misfortune without having learned wisdom; he was incapable of stepping beyond the circle of his Gothic prejudices; France had received him from the hand of foreign conquerors, surrounded by an emaciated group of mendicant nobles, whose pretensions were as antiquated and absurd as their decorations and manners. His government went to divide, they alleged, the French into two classes, opposed to each other in merits as in interests;—the emigrants, who alone were regarded by Louis as faithful and willing subjects; and the rest of the nation, in whom the Bourbons saw, at best, but repentant rebels. They asserted, that, too timid as yet to strike an open blow, the King and his ministers sought every means to disqualify and displace all who had taken any active share in the events of the Revolution, and to evade the general promise of amnesty. Under pretext of national economy, they were disbanding the army, and removing the officers of government—depriving thus the military and civil servants of France of the provision which their long services had earned. Louis, they said, had insulted the glory of France, and humiliated her heroes, by renouncing the colours and symbols under which twenty-five years had seen her victorious; he had rudely refused a crown offered to him by the people, and snatched it as his own right by inheritance, as if the dominion of men could be transferred from father to son like the property of a flock of sheep. The right of Frenchmen to choose their own ruler was hereditary and imprescriptible; and the nation, they said, must assert it, or sink to be the contempt, instead of being the pride at once and dread of Europe.

Such was the language which nettled, while it alarmed, the idle Parisians, who forgot at the moment that they had seen Napoleon take the crown from the altar at Notre Dame, and place it on his own head, with scarcely an acknowledgment to God, and not the shadow of any towards the nation. The departments were assailed by other arts of instigation. The chief of these was directed to excite the jealousy, so often alluded to, concerning the security of the property of national domains. Not content with urging everywhere that a revocation of the lands of the Church and emigrants was impending over the present proprietors, and that the clergy and nobles did not even deign to conceal their hopes and designs, a singular device was in many instances practised to enforce the belief of such assertions. Secret agents were despatched into the departments where property was advertised for sale. These emissaries made inquiries as if in the character of intending purchasers, and where the property appeared to have been derived from revolutionary confiscation, instantly objected to the security as good for nothing, and withdrew their pretended offers;—thus impressing the proprietor, and all in the same situation, with the unavoidable belief, that such title was considered as invalid, owing to the expected and menaced revocation of the Bourbon government.

It is generally believed that Buonaparte was not originally the object designed to profit by these intrigues. He was feared and hated by the Jacobin party, who knew what a slender chance his iron government afforded of their again attempting to rear their fantastic fabrics, whether of a pure republic, or a republican monarchy. It is supposed their eyes were turned in preference towards the Duke of Orleans. They reckoned probably on the strength of the temptation, and they thought, that in supplanting Louis XVIII., and placing his kinsman in his room, they would obtain, on the one hand, a king who should hold his power by and through the Revolution, and, on the other, that they would conciliate both foreign powers and the constitutionalists at home, by choosing their sovereign out of the family of Bourbon. The more cautious of those concerned in the intrigue, recommended that nothing should be attempted during the life of the reigning monarch; others were more impatient and less cautious; and the prince alluded to received an intimation of their plan in an unsigned billet, containing only these words—"We will act it without you; we will act it in spite of you; we will act it FOR you;"[91] as if putting it in his choice to be the leader or victim of the intended revolution.

The Duke of Orleans was too upright and honourable to be involved in this dark and mysterious scheme; he put the letter which he had received into the hands of the King, and acted otherwise with so much prudence, as to destroy all the hopes which the revolutionary party had founded upon him. It was necessary to find out some other central point. Some proposed Eugene Beauharnois as the hero of the projected movement;[92] some projected a provisional government; and others desired that the republican model should be once more adopted. But none of these plans were likely to be favoured by the army. The cry of Vive la Republique had become antiquated; the power once possessed by the Jacobins of creating popular commotion was greatly diminished; and although the army was devoted to Buonaparte, yet it was probable that in a civil commotion in which he had no interest, they would follow the marÉchals or generals who commanded them, in opposition to any insurrection merely revolutionary. If, on the contrary, the interests of Napoleon were put in the van, there was no fear of securing the irresistible assistance of the standing army. If he came back with the same principles of absolute power which he had formerly entertained, still the Jacobins would get rid of Louis and the charter, the two chief objects of their hatred; the former as a King given by the law, the latter as a law given by the King.

These considerations speedily determined the Jacobin party on a union with the Buonapartists. The former were in the condition of a band of housebreakers, who, unable to force an entrance into the house which they have the purpose to break into, renew their undertaking, and place at their head a brother of the same profession, because he has the advantage of having a crow-bar in his hand. When and how this league was formed—what sanction the Jacobin party obtained that Buonaparte, dethroned as a military despot, was to resume his dignity under constitutional restrictions, we have no opportunity of knowing. But so soon as the coalition was formed, his praises were sung forth on all sides, especially by many who had been, as Jacobins, his most decided enemies; and a great part of the French public were disposed to think of Buonaparte at Elba more favourably than Napoleon in the Tuileries. Gradually, even from the novelty and peculiarity of his situation, he began to excite a very different interest from that which attached to the despot who levied so many conscriptions, and sacrificed to his ambition so many millions of victims. Every instance of his activity, within the little circle of his dominions, was contrasted by his admirers with the constitutional inertness of the restored monarch. Excelling as much in the arts of peace as in those of war, it wanted but (they said) the fostering hand and unwearied eye of Napoleon to have rendered France the envy of the universe, had his military affairs permitted the leisure and opportunity which the Bourbons now enjoyed. These allegations, secretly insinuated, and at length loudly murmured, had their usual effects upon the fickle temper of the public; and, as the temporary enthusiasm in favour of the Bourbons faded into indifference and aversion, the general horror of Buonaparte's ambitious and tyrannical disposition began to give way to the recollection of his active, energetic, and enterprising qualities.

This change must soon have been known to him who was its object. An expression is said to have escaped from him during his passage to Elba, which marked at least a secret feeling that he might one day recover the high dignity from which he had fallen. "If Marius," he observed, "had slain himself in the marshes of MinturnÆ, he would never have enjoyed his seventh consulate." What was perhaps originally but the vague aspirations of an ardent spirit striving against adversity, became, from the circumstances of France, a plausible and well-grounded hope. It required but to establish communications among his numerous and zealous partisans, with instructions to hold out such hopes as might lure the Jacobins to his standard, and to profit by and inflame the growing discontents and divisions of France; and a conspiracy was almost ready formed, with little exertion on the part of him who soon became its object and its centre.

Various affiliations and points of rendezvous were now arranged to recruit for partisans. The ladies of the Ex-Emperor's court, who found themselves humiliated at that of the King by the preference assigned to noble birth, were zealous agents in these political intrigues, for offended pride hesitates at no measures for obtaining vengeance. The purses of their husbands and lovers were of course open to these fair intriguers, and many of them devoted their jewels to forward the cause of Revolution. The chief of these female conspirators was Hortensia Beauharnois, wife of Louis Buonaparte, but now separated from her husband, and bearing the title of the Duchess of Saint Leu. She was a person of considerable talents, and of great activity and address. At Nanterre, Neuilly, and Saint Leu, meetings of the conspirators were held, and Madame Hamelin, the confidant of the duchess, is said to have assisted in concealing some of the principal agents.

The Duchess of Bassano, and the Duchess of Montebello (widow of MarÉchal Lannes,) were warmly engaged in the same cause. At the meetings held in the houses of these intriguing females, the whole artillery of conspiracy was forged and put in order, from the political lie, which does its work if believed but for an hour, to the political song or squib, which, like the fire-work from which it derives its name, expresses love of frolic or of mischief, according to the nature of the materials amongst which it is thrown. From these places of rendezvous the agents of the plot sallied out upon their respective rounds, furnished with every lure that could rouse the suspicious landholder, attract the idle Parisian, seduce the Ideologue, who longed to try the experiments of his Utopian theories upon real government, and above all, secure the military—from the officer, before whose eyes truncheons, coronets, and even crowns, were disposed in ideal prospect, to the grenadier, whose hopes only aimed at blood, brandy, and free quarters.

The lower orders of the populace, particularly those inhabiting the two great suburbs of Saint Marceau and Saint Antoine, were disposed to the cause from their natural restlessness and desire of change; from the apprehension that the King would discontinue the expensive buildings in which Buonaparte was wont to employ them; from a Jacobinical dislike to the lawful title of Louis, joined to some tender aspirations after the happy days of liberty and equality; and lastly, from the disposition which the lees of society every where manifest to get rid of the law, their natural curb and enemy. The influence of Richard le Noir was particularly useful to the conspirators. He was a wealthy cotton-manufacturer, who combined and disciplined no less than three thousand workmen in his employment, so as to be ready at the first signal of the conspirators. Le Noir was called by the Royalists Santerre the Second; being said to aspire, like that celebrated suburban brewer, to become a general of Sans Culottes. He was bound to Buonaparte's interest by his daughter having married General Lefebvre Desnouettes, who was not the less the favourite of Napoleon that he had broken his parole, and fled from England when a prisoner of war. Thus agitated like a lake by a subterranean earthquake, revolutionary movements began to show themselves amongst the populace. At times, under pretence of scarcity of bread or employment, tumultuous groups assembled on the terrace of the Tuileries, with clamours which reminded the Duchess D'AngoulÊme of those that preceded the imprisonment and death of her parents. The police dispersed them for the moment; but if any arrests were made, it was only of such wretches as shouted when they heard others shout, and no efforts were made to ascertain the real cause of symptoms so alarming.

The police of Paris was at this time under the direction of M. D'AndrÉ, formerly a financier. His loyalty does not seem to have been doubted, but his prudence and activity are very questionable; nor does he seem ever to have been completely master either of the duties of his office, or the tools by which it was to be performed. These tools, in other words, the subordinate agents and officers and clerks, the whole machinery as it were of the police, had remained unchanged since that dreadful power was administered by Savary, Buonaparte's head spy and confidential minister. This body, as well as the army, felt that their honourable occupation was declined in emolument and importance since the fall of Buonaparte, and looked back with regret to the days when they were employed in agencies, dark, secret, and well-recompensed, unknown to a peaceful and constitutional administration. Like evil spirits employed by the spells of a benevolent enchanter, these police officers seem to have served the King grudgingly and unwillingly; to have neglected their duty, when that could be done with impunity; and to have shown that they had lost their activity and omniscience, so soon as embarked in the service of legitimate monarchy.

Under the connivance, therefore, if not with the approbation of the police, conspiracy assumed a more open and daring aspect. Several houses of dubious fame, but especially the CafÉ Montaussier, in the Palais Royal, were chosen as places of rendezvous for the subordinate satellites of the cause, where the toasts given, the songs sung, the tunes performed, and the language held, all bore allusion to Buonaparte's glories, his regretted absence, and his desired return. To express their hopes that this event would take place in the spring, the conspirators adopted for their symbol the violet; and afterwards applied to Buonaparte himself the name of Corporal Violet. The flower and the colour were publicly worn as a party distinction, before it would seem the court had taken the least alarm; and the health of Buonaparte, under the name of Corporal Violet, or Jean d'EpÉe, was pledged by many a Royalist without suspicion of the concealed meaning.

Paris was the centre of the conspiracy; but its ramifications extended through France. Clubs were formed in the chief provincial towns. Regular correspondences were established between them and the capital—an intercourse much favoured, it has been asserted, by Lavalette, who, having been long director-general of the posts under Buonaparte, retained considerable influence over the subordinate agents of that department, none of whom had been displaced upon the King's return. It appears from the evidence of M. Ferrand, director-general under the King, that the couriers, who, like the soldiers and police officers, had found more advantage under the imperial than under the royal government, were several of them in the interest of their old master. And it is averred, that the correspondence relating to the conspiracy was carried on through the royal post-office, contained in letters sealed with the King's seal, and despatched by public messengers wearing his livery.

Such open demonstrations of treasonable practices did not escape the observation of the Royalists, and they appear to have been communicated to the ministers from different quarters. Nay, it has been confidently stated, that letters, containing information of Napoleon's intended escape, were actually found in the bureau of one minister, unopened and unread. Indeed, each of these official personages seems scrupulously to have intrenched himself within the routine of his own particular department, so that what was only of general import to the whole, was not considered as the business of any one in particular. Thus, when the stunning catastrophe had happened, each endeavoured to shift the blame from himself, like the domestics in a large and ill-regulated family; and although all acknowledged that gross negligence had existed elsewhere, no one admitted that the fault lay with himself. This general infatuation surprises us upon retrospect; but Heaven, who frequently punishes mankind by the indulgence of their own foolish or wicked desires, had decreed that peace was to be restored to Europe, by the extermination of that army to whom peace was a state so odious; and for that purpose it was necessary that they should be successful in their desperate attempt to dethrone their peaceful and constitutional sovereign, and to reinstate the despotic leader, who was soon to lead them to the completion of their destiny, and of his own.

While the royal government in France was thus gradually undermined and prepared for an explosion, the rest of Europe resembled an ocean in the act of settling after a mighty storm, when the partial wrecks are visible, heaving on the subsiding swell, which threatens yet farther damage ere it be entirely lulled to rest.

The Congress of representatives of the principal states of Europe had met at Vienna, in order to arrange the confused and complicated interests which had arisen out of so prolonged a period of war and alteration. The lapse of twenty-five years of constant war and general change had made so total an alteration, not merely in the social relations and relative powers of the states of Europe, but in the habits, sentiments, and principles of the inhabitants, that it appeared altogether impossible to restore the original system as it existed before 1792. The continent resembled the wrecks of the city of London after the great conflagration in 1666, when the boundaries of individual property were so completely obliterated and confounded, that the king found himself obliged, by the urgency of the occasion, to make new, and in some degree arbitrary, distributions of the ground, in order to rebuild the streets upon a plan more regular, and better fitted to the improved condition of the age. That which proved ultimately an advantage to London, may perhaps produce similar good consequences to the civilized world, and a better and more permanent order of things may be expected to arise out of that which has been destroyed. In that case, the next generation may reap the advantages of the storms with which their fathers had to contend. We are, however, far from approving of some of the unceremonious appropriations of territory which were made upon this occasion, which, did our limits admit of entering into the discussion, carried, we think, the use of superior force to a much greater extent than could be justified on the principles upon which the allies acted.

Amid the labours of the Congress, their attention was turned on the condition of the kingdom of Naples; and it was urged by Talleyrand, in particular, that allowing the existence of the sovereignty of Murat in that beautiful kingdom, was preserving, at the risk of future danger to Europe, an empire, founded on Napoleon's principles, and governed by his brother-in-law. It was answered truly, that it was too late to challenge the foundation of Murat's right of sovereignty, after having gladly accepted and availed themselves of his assistance, in the war against Buonaparte. Talleyrand, by exhibiting to the Duke of Wellington a train of correspondence[93] between Buonaparte, his sister Caroline, and Murat, endeavoured to show that the latter was insincere, when seeming to act in concert with the allies. The Duke was of opinion, that the letters did not prove treachery, though they indicated what was to be expected, that Murat took part against his brother-in-law and benefactor, with considerable reluctance. The matter was now in agitation before the Congress; and Murat, conceiving his power in danger, seems to have adopted the rash expedient of changing sides once more, and again to have renewed his intercourse with Napoleon. The contiguity of Elba to Naples rendered this a matter of little difficulty; and they had, besides, the active assistance of Pauline, who went and came between Italy and her brother's little court. Napoleon, however, at all times resolutely denied that he had any precise share or knowledge of the enterprise which Murat meditated.

The King of France, in the meanwhile, recalled by proclamation all Frenchmen who were in the Neapolitan service, and directed the title of King Joachim to be omitted in the royal almanack.

Murat, alarmed at this indication of hostile intentions, carried on a secret correspondence with France, in the course of which a letter was intercepted, directed to the King of Naples, from General Excelsman, professing, in his own name and that of others, devoted attachment, and assuring him that thousands of officers, formed in his school and under his eye, would have been ready at his call, had not matters taken a satisfactory turn. In consequence of this letter, Excelsman was in the first place put on half-pay and sent from Paris, which order he refused to obey. Next he was tried before a court-martial, and triumphantly acquitted. He was admitted to kiss the king's hand, and swear to him fidelity À toutes Épreuves. How he kept his word will presently appear. In the meantime the King had need of faithful adherents, for the nets of conspiracy were closing fast around him.

The plot formed against Louis XVIII. comprehended two enterprises. The first was to be achieved by the landing of Napoleon from Elba, when the universal good-will of the soldiers, the awe inspired by his name and character, and the suspicions and insinuations spread widely against the Bourbons, together with the hope of recovering what the nation considered as the lost glory of France, were certain to insure him a general good reception. A second, or subordinate branch of the conspiracy, concerned the insurrection of a body of troops under General L'Allemand, who were quartered in the north-east of France, and to whom was committed the charge of intercepting the retreat of the King and royal family from Paris, and, seizing them, to detain them as hostages at the restored Emperor's pleasure.

It is impossible to know at what particular period of his residence in Elba, Napoleon gave an express consent to what was proposed, and disposed himself to assume the part destined for him in the extraordinary drama. We should suppose, however, his resolution was adopted about that time when his manner changed completely towards the British envoy residing at his little court, and when he assumed the airs of inaccessible and imperial state, to keep at a distance, as an inconvenient observer, Sir Niel Campbell, to whom he had before seemed rather partial. His motions after that time have been described, so far as we have access to know them. It was on Sunday, 26th February, that Napoleon embarked with his guards on board the flotilla, consisting of the Inconstant brig, and six other small vessels, upon one of the most extraordinary and adventurous expeditions that was ever attempted.[94] The force, with which he was once more to change the fortunes of France, amounted but to about a thousand men. To keep the undertaking secret, his sister Pauline gave a ball on the night of his departure, and the officers were unexpectedly summoned, after leaving the entertainment, to go on board the little squadron.

In his passage Napoleon encountered two great risks. The first was from meeting a royal French frigate,[95] who hailed the Inconstant. The guards were ordered to put off their caps, and go down below, or lie upon the deck, while the captain of the Inconstant exchanged some civilities[96] with the commander of the frigate, with whom he chanced to be acquainted; and being well known in these seas, was permitted to pass on without farther inquiry. The second danger was caused by the pursuit of Sir Niel Campbell, in the Partridge sloop of war, who, following from Elba, where he had learned Napoleon's escape, with the determination to capture or sink the flotilla, could but obtain a distant view of the vessels as they landed their passengers.[97]

This was on the first of March, when Napoleon, causing his followers once more to assume the three-coloured cockade, disembarked at Cannes, a small seaport in the gulf of Saint Juan, not far from Frejus, which had seen him land, a single individual, returned from Egypt, to conquer a mighty empire; had beheld him set sail, a terrified exile, to occupy the place of his banishment; and now again witnessed his return, a daring adventurer, to throw the dice once more for a throne or a grave. A small party of his guard presented themselves before Antibes, but were made prisoners by General Corsin the governor of the place.

Undismayed by a circumstance so unfavourable, Napoleon instantly began his march at the head of scarce a thousand men, towards the centre of a kingdom from which he had been expelled with execrations, and where his rival now occupied in peace an hereditary throne. For some time the inhabitants gazed on them with doubtful and astonished eyes, as if uncertain whether to assist them as friends, or to oppose them as invaders. A few peasants cried Vive l'Empereur! but the adventurers received neither countenance nor opposition from those of the higher ranks. On the evening of 2d March, a day and a half after landing, the little band of invaders reached Ceremin, having left behind them their small train of artillery, in order to enable them to make forced marches. As Napoleon approached DauphinÉ, called the cradle of the Revolution, the peasants greeted him with more general welcome, but still no proprietors appeared, no clergy, no public functionaries. But they were now near to those by whom the success or ruin of the expedition must be decided.

Soult, the minister at war, had ordered some large bodies of troops to be moved into the country betwixt Lyons and Chamberri, to support, as he afterwards alleged, the high language which Talleyrand had been of late holding at the Congress, by showing that France was in readiness for war. If the marÉchal acted with good faith in this measure, he was at least most unfortunate; for, as he himself admits, even in his attempt at exculpation, the troops were so placed as if they had been purposely thrown in Buonaparte's way, and proved unhappily to consist of corps peculiarly devoted to the Ex-Emperor's person.[98] On the 7th of March, the seventh regiment of the line, commanded by Colonel LabÉdoyÈre, arrived at Grenoble. He was young, nobly born, handsome, and distinguished as a military man. His marriage having connected him with the noble and loyal family of Damas, he procured preferment and active employment from Louis XVIII. through their interest, and they were induced even to pledge themselves for his fidelity. Yet LabÉdoyÈre had been engaged by Cambrone deep in the conspiracy of Elba, and used the command thus obtained for the destruction of the monarch by whom he was trusted.

As Napoleon approached Grenoble, he came into contact with the outposts of the garrison, who drew out, but seemed irresolute. Buonaparte halted his own little party, and advanced almost alone, exposing his breast, as he exclaimed, "He who will kill his Emperor, let him now work his pleasure." The appeal was irresistible—the soldiers threw down their arms, crowded round the general who had so often led them to victory, and shouted Vive l'Empereur! In the meanwhile, LabÉdoyÈre, at the head of two battalions, was sallying from the gates of Grenoble. As they advanced he displayed an eagle, which, like that of Marius, worshipped by the Roman conspirator, had been carefully preserved to be the type of civil war; at the same time he distributed among the soldiers the three-coloured cockades, which he had concealed in the hollow of a drum. They were received with enthusiasm. It was in this moment that MarÉchal de Camp Des Villiers, the superior officer of LabÉdoyÈre, arrived on the spot, alarmed at what was taking place, and expostulated with the young military fanatic and the soldiers. He was compelled to retire. General Marchand, the loyal commandant of Grenoble, had as little influence on the troops remaining in the place: they made him prisoner, and delivered up the city to Buonaparte. Napoleon was thus at the head of nearly three thousand soldiers, with a suitable train of artillery, and a corresponding quantity of ammunition. He acted with a moderation which his success could well afford, and dismissed General Marchand uninjured.

When the first news of Napoleon's arrival reached Paris, it excited surprise rather than alarm;[99] but when he was found to traverse the country without opposition, some strange and combined treason began to be generally apprehended. That the Bourbons might not be wanting to their own cause, Monsieur, with the Duke of Orleans, set out for Lyons, and the Duke D'AngoulÊme repaired to Nismes. The Legislative Bodies, and most of the better classes, declared for the royal cause. The residents of the various powers hastened to assure Louis of the support of their sovereigns. Corps of volunteers were raised both among the Royalists and the Constitutional or moderate party. The most animating proclamations called the people to arms. An address by the celebrated Benjamin Constant, one of the most distinguished of the moderate party, was remarkable for its eloquence. It placed in the most striking light the contrast between the lawful government of a constitutional monarch, and the usurpation of an Attila, or Genghis, who governed only by the sword of his Mamelukes. It reminded France of the general detestation with which Buonaparte had been expelled from the kingdom, and proclaimed Frenchmen to be the scorn of Europe, should they again stretch their hands voluntarily to the shackles which they had burst and hurled from them. All were summoned to arms, more especially those to whom liberty was dear; for in the triumph of Buonaparte, it must find its grave for ever.—"With Louis," said the address, "was peace and happiness; with Buonaparte, war, misery, and desolation." Even a more animating appeal to popular feeling was made by a female on the staircase of the Tuileries, who exclaimed, "If Louis has not men enough to fight for him, let him call on the widows and childless mothers who have been rendered such by Napoleon."

Notwithstanding all these demonstrations of zeal, the public mind had been much influenced by the causes of discontent which had been so artfully enlarged upon for many months past. The decided Royalists were few, the Constitutionalists lukewarm. It became every moment more likely that not the voice of the people, but the sword of the army, must determine the controversy. Soult, whose conduct had given much cause for suspicion,[100] which was augmented by his proposal to call out the officers who since the restoration had been placed on half-pay, resigned his office, and was succeeded by Clarke, Duke of Feltre, less renowned as a soldier, but more trustworthy as a subject. A camp was established at Melun—troops were assembled there—and as much care as possible was used in selecting the troops to whom the royal cause was to be intrusted.

In the meantime, Fortune had not entirely abandoned the Bourbons. That part of the Buonapartist conspiracy which was to have been executed in the north was discovered and disconcerted. Lefebvre Desnouettes, discreditably known in England by his breach of parole, with the two Generals Lallemand, were the agents in this plot. On the 10th March, Lefebvre marched forward his regiment to join Buonaparte; but the officers having discovered his purpose, he was obliged to make his escape from the arrest with which he was threatened. The two Lallemands put the garrison of Lisle, to the number of 6000 men, in motion, by means of forged orders, declaring there was an insurrection in Paris. But MarÉchal Mortier, meeting the troops on the march, detected and defeated the conspiracy, by which, had it taken effect, the King and Royal Family must have been made prisoners. The Lallemands were taken, and to have executed them on the spot as traitors, might have struck a wholesome terror into such officers as still hesitated; but the ministers of the King did not possess energy enough for such a crisis.[101]

The progress of Buonaparte, in the meantime, was uninterrupted. It was in vain that, at Lyons, Monsieur and the Duke of Orleans, with the assistance of the advice and influence of MarÉchal Macdonald, endeavoured to retain the troops in their duty, and the inhabitants in their allegiance to the King. The latter, chiefly manufacturers, afraid of being undersold by those of England in their own market, shouted openly, "Vive l'Empereur!" The troops of the line remained silent and gloomy. "How will your soldiers behave?" said Monsieur to the colonel of the 13th Dragoons. The colonel referred him to the men themselves. They answered candidly, that they would fight for Napoleon alone. Monsieur dismounted, and addressed the soldiers individually. To one veteran, covered with scars, and decorated with medals, the prince said, "A brave soldier like you, at least, will cry, Vive le Roi!"—"You deceive yourself," answered the soldier. "No one here will fight against his father—I will cry, Vive Napoleon!" The efforts of Macdonald were equally vain. He endeavoured to move two battalions to oppose the entry of Buonaparte's advanced guard. So soon as the troops came in presence of each other, they broke their ranks, and mingled together in the general cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" Macdonald would have been made prisoner, but the forces whom he had just commanded would not permit this consummation of revolt. Monsieur was obliged to escape from Lyons, almost alone. The guard of honour formed by the citizens, to attend the person of the second of the Bourbon family, offered their services to Napoleon; but he refused them with contempt, while he sent a cross of honour to a single dragoon, who had the loyalty and devotion to attend Monsieur in his retreat.

Buonaparte, now master of the ancient capital of the Gauls, and at the head of 7000 men, was acknowledged by MaÇon, Chalons, Dijon, and almost all Burgundy. Marseilles, on the contrary, and all Provence, declared against the invader, and the former city set a price upon his head.

Napoleon found it necessary to halt at Lyons for the refreshment of his forces; and, being joined by some of the civilians of his party, he needed time also to organise his government and administration. Hitherto, the addresses which he had published had been of a military character, abounding with the Oriental imagery which Buonaparte regarded as essential to eloquence, promising that victory should move at the charging step, and that the eagle should fly with the national colours from steeple to steeple, till she perched on the towers of Notre Dame. The present decrees were of a different character, and related to the internal arrangement of his projected administration.

CambacÉrÈs was named his minister of justice; FouchÉ, that of police (a boon to the revolutionists;) Davoust was made minister of war. Decrees upon decrees issued forth, with a rapidity which showed how Buonaparte had employed those studious hours at Elba, which he was supposed to have dedicated to the composition of his Memoirs. They ran in the name of Napoleon, by the grace of God, Emperor of the French, and were dated on the 13th of March, although not promulgated until the 21st of that month. The first of these decrees abrogated all changes in the courts of justice and tribunals which had taken place during the absence of Napoleon. The second displaced all officers belonging to the class of emigrants, and introduced into the army by the King. The third suppressed the order of St. Louis, the white flag and cockade, and other royal emblems, and restored the three-coloured banner and the imperial symbols of Buonaparte's authority. The same decree abolished the Swiss Guard, and the household troops of the King. The fourth sequestered the effects of the Bourbons. A similar ordinance sequestered the restored property of emigrant families, and was so artfully worded as to represent great changes of property having taken place in this manner. The fifth decree of Lyons suppressed the ancient nobility and feudal titles, and formally confirmed proprietors of national domains in their possessions. The sixth, declared sentence of banishment against all emigrants not erased from the list previous to the accession of the Bourbons, to which was added confiscation of their property. The seventh restored the Legion of Honour, in every respect as it had existed under the Emperor, uniting to its funds the confiscated revenues of the order of St. Louis. The eighth and last decree was the most important of all. Under pretence that emigrants who had borne arms against France, had been introduced into the body of the Peers, and that the Chamber of Deputies had already sat for the legal time, it dissolved both Chambers, and convoked the Electoral Colleges of the empire, in order that they might hold, in the ensuing month of May, an extraordinary assembly of the Champ-de-Mai. This convocation, for which the inventor found a name in the history of the ancient Franks, was to have two objects: First, to make such alterations and reformations in the constitution of the empire as circumstances should render advisable; secondly, to assist at the coronation of the Empress and of the King of Rome.

We cannot pause to criticise these various enactments. In general, however, it may be remarked, that they were admirably calculated to serve Napoleon's cause. They flattered the army, and at the same time heated their resentment against the emigrants, by insinuating that they had been sacrificed by Louis to the interest of these his followers. They held out to the Republicans a speedy prospect of confiscations, proscriptions, and revolutions of government; while the Imperialists were gratified with a view of ample funds for pensions, offices, and honorary decorations. To the proprietors of national domains was promised security; to the Parisians, the spectacle of the Champ-de-Mai; and to all France, peace and tranquillity, since the arrival of the Empress and her son, so confidently asserted to be at hand, must be considered as a pledge of the friendship of Austria. Russia was also said to be friendly to Napoleon, and the conduct of Alexander toward the members of Buonaparte's family, was boldly appealed to as evidence of the fact. England, it was averred, befriended him, else how could he have escaped from an isle surrounded by her naval force? Prussia, therefore, alone, might be hostile and unappeased; but, unsupported by the other belligerent powers, Prussia must remain passive, or would soon be reduced to reason. The very pleasure in mortifying one, at least, of the late victors of Paris, gave a zest and poignancy to the revolution, which the concurrence of the other great states would, according to Buonaparte, render easy and peaceful. Such news were carefully disseminated through France by Napoleon's adherents. They preceded his march, and prepared the minds of men to receive him as their destined master.

On the 13th, Buonaparte recommenced his journey, and, advancing through MaÇon, Chalons, and Dijon, he reached Auxerre on the 17th March. His own mode of travelling rather resembled that of a prince, who, weary of the fatigue of state, wishes to extricate himself, as much as possible, from its trammels, than that of an adventurer coming at the head of an army of insurgents, to snatch a crown from the head of the lawful monarch who wore it. He travelled several hours in advance of his army, often without any guard, or, at most, attended only by a few Polish lancers. The country through which he journeyed was favourable to his pretensions. It had been severely treated by the allies during the military manoeuvres of the last campaign, and the dislike of the suffering inhabitants extended itself to the family who had mounted the throne by the influence of these strangers. When, therefore, they saw the late Emperor among them alone, without guards, inquiring, with his usual appearance of active interest, into the extent of their losses, and making liberal promises to repair them, it is no wonder that they should rather remember the battles he had fought in their behalf against the foreigners, than think on the probability that his presence among them might be the precursor of a second invasion.

The revolutionary fever preceded Buonaparte like an epidemic disorder. The 14th regiment of lancers, quartered at Auxerre, trampled under foot the white cockade at the first signal; the sixth regiment of lancers declared also for Napoleon, and without waiting for orders, drove a few soldiers of the household troops from Montereau, and secured that important post, which commands the passage of the Seine.

The dismay of the royal government at the revolt of Lyons, was much increased by false tidings which had been previously circulated, giving an account of a pretended victory obtained by the Royalist party in front of that town. The conspiracy was laid so deep, and extended so widely through every branch of the government, that those concerned contrived to send this false report to Paris in a demi-official form, by means of the telegraph. It had the expected effect, first, in suspending the preparations of the loyal party, and afterwards in deepening the anxiety which overwhelmed them, when Monsieur, returning almost unattended, brought the news of his bad success.

At this moment of all but desperation, FouchÉ offered his assistance to the almost defenceless King. It is probable, that the more he reflected on the character of his old master, Napoleon, the deeper became his conviction, that they knew each other too well ever to resume an attitude of mutual confidence. Nothing deterred, therefore, by the communications which he had opened with the Imperialists, he now demanded a secret audience of the King. It was refused, but his communications were received through the medium of two confidential persons deputed by Louis. FouchÉ's language to them was that of a bold empiric, to whom patients have recourse in a moment of despair, and who confidently undertake the most utterly hopeless cases. Like such, he exacted absolute reliance on his skill—the most scrupulous attention to his injunctions—the most ample reward for his promised services; and as such, too, he spoke with the utmost confidence in the certainty of his remedy, whilst observing a vague yet studious mystery about the ingredients of which it was composed, and the mode in which it would operate. He required of Louis XVIII. that he should surrender all the executive authority to the Duke of Orleans, and all the ministerial Offices to himself and those whom he should appoint; which two conditions being granted, he undertook to put a period to Buonaparte's expedition. The Memoirs of this bold intriguer affirm, that he meant to assemble all that remained of the revolutionary party, and oppose the doctrines of Liberty and Equality to those of the glory of France, in the sense understood by Buonaparte.[102] What were the means that such politicians, so united, had to oppose to the army of France, FouchÉ has not informed us;[103] but it is probable, that, to stop the advance of 10,000 armed men, against whom the revolutionists could now scarce even array the mob of the suburbs, the ex-minister of police must have meditated the short sharp remedy of Napoleon's assassination, for accomplishing which, he, if any man, could have found trusty agents.

The King having refused proposals, which went to preserve his sceptre by taking it out of his hands, and by further unexplained means, the morality of which was liable to just suspicion, FouchÉ saw himself obliged to carry his intrigues to the service of his old master. He became, in consequence, so much an object of suspicion to the Royalists, that an order was issued for his arrest.[104] To the police agents, his own old dependents, who came to execute the order, he objected against the informality of their warrant, and stepping into his closet, as if to draw a protest, he descended by a secret stair into his garden, of which he scaled the wall. His next neighbour, into whose garden he escaped, was the Duchess de St. Leu; so that the fugitive arrived, as if by a trick of the stage, in the very midst of a circle of chosen Buonapartists, who received him with triumph, and considered the mode of his coming among them as a full warrant for his fidelity.[105]

Louis XVIII. in his distress, had recourse to the assistance of another man of the Revolution, who, without possessing the abilities of FouchÉ, was perhaps, had he been disposed to do so, better qualified than he to have served the King's cause. MarÉchal Ney was called forth to take the command of an army destined to attack Napoleon in the flank and rear as he marched towards Paris, while the forces at Melun opposed him in front. He had an audience of the King on the 9th of March, when he accepted his appointment with expressions of the most devoted faith to the King, and declared his resolution to bring Buonaparte to Paris like a wild beast in an iron cage. The marÉchal went to BesanÇon, where, on the 11th of March, he learned that Buonaparte was in possession of Lyons. But he continued to make preparations for resistance, and collected all the troops he could from the adjoining garrisons. To those who objected to the bad disposition of the soldiers, and remarked that he would have difficulty in inducing them to fight, Ney answered determinedly, "They shall fight; I will take a musket from a grenadier and begin the action myself;—I will run my sword to the hilt in the first who hesitates to follow my example." To the minister at war he wrote, that all were dazzled by the activity and rapid progress of the invader; that Napoleon was favoured by the common people and the soldiers; but that the officers and civil authorities were loyal, and he still hoped "to see a fortunate close of this mad enterprise."

In these dispositions, Ney advanced to Lons-le-Saulnier. Here, on the night betwixt the 13th and 14th March, he received a letter from Napoleon, summoning him to join his standard, as "bravest of the brave," a name which could not but awake a thousand remembrances. He had already sounded both his officers and soldiers, and discovered their unalterable determination to join Buonaparte. He therefore had it only in his choice to retain his command by passing over to the Emperor, or else to return to the King without executing any thing which might seem even an effort at realizing his boast, and also without the army over which he had asserted his possession of such influence.

MarÉchal Ney was a man of mean birth, who, by the most desperate valour, had risen to the highest ranks in the army. His early education had not endowed him with a delicate sense of honour or a high feeling of principle, and he had not learned either as he advanced in life. He appears to have been a weak man, with more vanity than pride, and who, therefore, was likely to feel the loss of power more than the loss of character. He accordingly resolved upon adhering to Napoleon. Sensible of the incongruity of changing his side so suddenly, he affected to be a deliberate knave, rather than he would content himself with being viewed in his real character, of a volatile, light-principled, and inconsiderate fool. He pretended that the expedition of Napoleon had been long arranged between himself and the other marÉchals. But we are willing rather to suppose that this was matter of mere invention, than to think that the protestations poured out at the Tuileries, only five days before, were, on the part of this unfortunate man, the effusions of premeditated treachery.

The marÉchal now published an order of the day, declaring that the cause of the Bourbons was lost for ever. It was received by the soldiers with rapture, and Buonaparte's standard and colours were instantly displayed. Many of the officers, however, remonstrated, and left their commands. One, before he went away, broke his sword in two, and threw the pieces at Ney's feet, saying, "It is easier for a man of honour to break iron than to infringe his word."

Ney was received by Napoleon with open arms.[106] His defection did incalculable damage to the King's cause, tending to show that the spirit of treason which possessed the common soldiers, had ascended to and affected the officers of the highest rank in the army.

The King, in the meanwhile, notwithstanding these unpromising circumstances, used every exertion to induce his subjects to continue in their allegiance. He attended in person the sitting of the Chamber of Deputies, and was received with such enthusiastic marks of applause, that one would have thought the most active exertions must have followed. Louis next reviewed the national guards, about 25,000 men, who made a similar display of loyalty. He also inspected the troops of the line, 6000 in number, but his reception was equivocal. They placed their caps on their bayonets in token of respect, but they raised no shout.

Some of those about Louis's person continued to believe that these men were still attached to the King, or that at any rate, they ought to be sent to the camp at Melun, which was the last remaining point upon which the royal party could hope to make a stand.

As a last resource, Louis convoked a general council at the Tuileries on the 18th March. The generals present declared there could be no effectual opposition offered to Buonaparte. The royalist nobles contradicted them, and, after some expressions of violence had been uttered, much misbecoming the royal presence, Louis was obliged to break up the meeting, and prepare himself to abandon a capital, which the prevalence of his enemies, and the disunion of his friends, left him no longer any chance of defending.

Meantime, the two armies approached each other at Melun; that of the King was commanded by the faithful Macdonald. On the 20th, his troops were drawn up in three lines to receive the invaders, who were said to be advancing from Fontainbleau. There was a long pause of suspense, of a nature which seldom fails to render men more accessible to strong and sudden emotion. The glades of the forest, and the acclivity which ascends to it, were full in view of the royal army, but presented the appearance of a deep solitude. All was silence, except when the regimental bands of music, at the command of the officers, who remained generally faithful, played the airs of Vive Henri Quatre—O, Richard—La Belle Gabrielle, and other tunes connected with the cause and family of the Bourbons. The sounds excited no corresponding sentiments among the soldiers. At length, about noon, the galloping of horse was heard. An open carriage appeared, surrounded by a few hussars, and drawn by four horses. It came on at full speed; and Napoleon, jumping from the vehicle, was in the midst of the ranks which had been formed to oppose him. His escort threw themselves from their horses, mingled with their ancient comrades, and the effect of their exhortations was instantaneous on men, whose minds were already half made up to the purpose which they now accomplished. There was a general shout of Vive Napoleon!—The last army of the Bourbons passed from their side, and no farther obstruction existed betwixt Napoleon and the capital, which he was once more—but for a brief space—to inhabit as a sovereign.

Louis XVIII. had anticipated too surely the defection which took place, to await the consequence of its actual arrival. The King departed from Paris, escorted by his household, at one in the morning of the 20th March. Even at that untimely hour, the palace was surrounded by the national guards, and many citizens, who wept and entreated him to remain, offering to spend the last drop of their blood for him. But Louis wisely declined accepting of sacrifices, which could now have availed nothing. Escorted by his household troops, he took the way to Lisle. MarÉchal Macdonald, returning from the fatal position of Melun, assumed the command of this small body, which was indeed augmented by many volunteers, but such as considered their zealous wishes, rather than their power of rendering assistance. The King's condition was, however, pitied and respected, and he passed through Abbeville, and other garrison towns, where the soldiers received him with sullen respect; and though indicating that they intended to join his rival, would neither violate his person nor insult his misfortunes. At Lisle he had hoped to make a stand, but MarÉchal Mortier, insisting upon the dissatisfied and tumultuary state of the garrison, urged him to proceed, for the safety of his life; and, compelled to a second exile, he departed to Ostend, and from thence to Ghent, where he established his exiled court. MarÉchal Macdonald took leave of his Majesty on the frontiers, conscious that by emigrating he must lose every prospect of serving in future either France or her monarch. The household troops, about two hundred excepted, were also disbanded on the frontiers. They had been harassed in their march thither by some light horse, and in their attempt to regain their homes in a state of dispersion, some were slain, and almost all were plundered and insulted.

In the meanwhile, the Revolution took full effect at Paris. Lavalette, one of Buonaparte's most decided adherents, hastened from a place of concealment to assume the management of the post-office in the name of Napoleon, an office which he had enjoyed during his former reign. He was thus enabled to intercept the royal proclamations, and to announce to every department officially the restoration of the Emperor. Excelsman, the oath of fealty to the king, À toutes Épreuves, scarce dry upon his lips, took down the white flag, which floated on the Tuileries, and replaced the three-coloured banner.

It was late in the evening ere Napoleon arrived in the same open carriage, which he had used since his landing. There was a singular contrast betwixt his entry and the departure of the King. The latter was accompanied by the sobs, tears, and kind wishes of those citizens who desired peace and tranquillity, by the wailing of the defenceless, and the anxious fears of the wise and prudent. The former entered amid the shouts of armed columns, who, existing by war and desolation, welcomed with military acclamations the chief who was to restore them to their element. The inhabitants of the suburbs cheered in expectation of employment and gratuities, or by instigation of their ringleaders, who were chiefly under the management of the police, and well prepared for the event. But among the immense crowds of the citizens of Paris, who turned out to see this extraordinary spectacle, few or none joined in the gratulation. The soldiers of the guard resented their silence, commanded the spectators to shout, struck with the flat of their swords, and pointed their pistols at the multitude, but could not, even by these military means, extort the expected cry of Liberty and Napoleon, though making it plain by their demeanour, that the last, if not the first, was returned to the Parisians. In the court of the Carousel, and before the Tuileries, all the adherents of the old Imperial government, and those who, having deserted Napoleon, were eager to expiate their fault, by now being first to acknowledge him, were assembled to give voice to their welcome, which atoned in some degree for the silence of the streets. They crowded around him so closely, that he was compelled to exclaim—"My friends, you stifle me!" and his adjutants were obliged to support him in their arms up the grand staircase, and thence into the royal apartments, where he received the all-hail of the principal devisers and abettors of this singular undertaking.

Never, in his bloodiest and most triumphant field of battle, had the terrible ascendency of Napoleon's genius appeared half so predominant as during his march, or rather his journey, from Cannes to Paris. He who left the same coast disguised like a slave, and weeping like a woman, for fear of assassination, reappeared in grandeur like that of the returning wave, which, the farther it has retreated, is rolled back on the shore with the more terrific and overwhelming violence. His looks seemed to possess the pretended power of northern magicians, and blunted swords and spears. The Bravest of the Brave, who came determined to oppose him as he would a wild beast, recognised his superiority when confronted with him, and sunk again into his satellite. Yet the lustre with which Napoleon shone was not that of a planet duly moving in its regular sphere, but that of a comet, inspiring forebodings of pestilence and death, and

The result of his expedition was thus summed by one of the most eloquent and best-informed British statesmen.[107]

"Was it," said the accomplished orator, "in the power of language to describe the evil? Wars which had raged for twenty-five years throughout Europe; which had spread blood and desolation from Cadiz to Moscow, and from Naples to Copenhagen; which had wasted the means of human enjoyment, and destroyed the instruments of social improvement; which threatened to diffuse among the European nations the dissolute and ferocious habits of a predatory soldiery—at length by one of those vicissitudes which bid defiance to the foresight of man, had been brought to a close, upon the whole happy beyond all reasonable expectation, with no violent shock to national independence, with some tolerable compromise between the opinions of the age and the reverence due to ancient institutions; with no too signal or mortifying triumph over the legitimate interests or avowable feelings of any numerous body of men, and, above all, without those retaliations against nations or parties which beget new convulsions, often as horrible as those which they close, and perpetuate revenge and hatred and blood from age to age. Europe seemed to breathe after her sufferings. In the midst of this fair prospect, and of these consolatory hopes, Napoleon Buonaparte escaped from Elba; three small vessels reached the coast of Provence; their hopes are instantly dispelled; the work of our toil and fortitude is undone; the blood of Europe is spilt in vain—