CHAPTER XCVII.

_Napoleon's Illness--viz. Cancer in the Stomach--Removal of Las Cases--Montholon's Complaints brought forward by Lord Holland--and replied to by Lord Bathurst--Effect of the failure of Lord Holland's motion--Removal of Dr. O'Meara from his attendance on Buonaparte--who refuses to permit the visits of any other English Physician--Two Priests sent to St. Helena at his desire--Dr. Antommarchi--Continued Disputes with Sir Hudson Lowe--Plans for Effecting Buonaparte's Escape--Scheme of a Smuggler to approach St. Helena in a Submarine Vessel--Seizure of the Vessel--Letter expressing the King of England's interest in the Illness of Napoleon--Consent of the latter to admit the visits of Dr. Arnott--Napoleon employs himself in making his Will--and gives other directions connected with his Decease--Extreme Unction administered to him--HIS DEATH, on 5th May, 1821--Anatomization of the Body--His Funeral._

[Sidenote: ILLNESS.]

Reports had been long current concerning the decline of Buonaparte's health, even before the battle of Waterloo; and many were disposed to impute his failure in that decisive campaign, less to the superiority of his enemies than to the decrease of his own habits of activity. There seems no room for such a conclusion: The rapid manner in which he concentrated his army upon Charleroi, ought to have silenced such a report for ever. He was subject occasionally to slight fits of sleepiness, such as are incident to most men, especially after the age of forty, who sleep ill, rise early, and work hard. When he landed at St. Helena, so far did he seem from showing any appearance of declining health, that one of the British grenadiers, who saw him, exclaimed, with his national oath, "They told us he was growing old;--he has forty good campaigns in his belly yet, d--n him!" A speech which the French gentlemen envied, as it ought, they said, to have belonged to one of the Old Guard. We have mentioned Captain Hall's account of his apparent state of health in summer 1817; that of Mr. Ellis, about the same period, is similar, and he expresses his belief that Buonaparte was never more able to undergo the fatigues of a campaign than at the moment he saw him. Yet at this time, viz. July, 1817, Napoleon was alleging the decline of his health as a reason for obtaining more indulgence, while, on the other hand, he refused to take the exercise judged necessary to preserve his constitution, unless a relaxation of superintendence should be granted to him. It is probable, however, that he himself felt, even at that period, the symptoms of that internal malady which consumed his life. It is now well known to have been the cruel complaint of which his father died, a cancer, namely, in the stomach, of which he had repeatedly expressed his apprehensions, both in Russia and elsewhere. The progress of this disease, however, is slow and insidious, if indeed it had actually commenced so early as 1817. Gourgaud, at a much later period, avowed himself a complete disbeliever in his illness. He allowed, indeed, that he was in low spirits to such an extent as to talk of destroying himself and his attached followers, by shutting himself and them up in a small apartment with burning charcoal--an easy death, which Berthollet the chemist had, it seems, recommended. Nevertheless, "on the subject of General Buonaparte's health, General Gourgaud stated, that the English were much imposed upon; for that he was not, as far as bodily health was concerned, in any degree materially altered, and that the representations upon this subject had little, if any, truth in them. Dr. O'Meara was certainly the dupe of that influence which General Buonaparte always exercises over those with whom he has frequent intercourse, and though he (General Gourgaud) individually had only reason _de se louer de Mr. O'Meara_, yet his intimate knowledge of General Buonaparte enabled him confidently to assert, that his state of health was not at all worse than it had been for some time previous to his arrival at St. Helena."

Yet, as before hinted, notwithstanding the disbelief of friends and foes, it seems probable that the dreadful disease of which Napoleon died, was already seizing upon the vitals, though its character was not decisively announced by external symptoms. Dr. Arnott, surgeon to the 20th regiment, who attended on Napoleon's death-bed, has made the following observations upon this important subject:

"We are given to understand, from great authority,[262] that this affection of the stomach cannot be produced without a considerable predisposition of the parts to disease. I will not venture an opinion: but it is somewhat remarkable, that he often said that his father died of scirrhus of the pylorus; that the body was examined after death, and the fact ascertained. His faithful followers, Count and Countess Bertrand, and Count Montholon, have repeatedly declared the same to me.

"If, then, it should be admitted that a previous disposition of the parts to this disease did exist, might not the depressing passions of the mind act as an exciting cause? It is more than probable that Napoleon Buonaparte's mental sufferings in St. Helena were very poignant. By a man of such unbounded ambition, and who once aimed at universal dominion, captivity must have been severely felt.

"The climate of St. Helena I consider healthy. The air is pure and temperate, and Europeans enjoy their health, and retain the vigour of their constitution, as in their native country."

Dr. Arnott proceeds to state, that notwithstanding this general assertion, dysentery, and other acute diseases of the abdominal viscera, prevailed among the troops. This he imputes to the carelessness and intemperance of the English soldiers, and the fatigue of the working parties; as the officers, who had little night duty, retained their health and strength as in Europe.

"I can therefore safely assert," continues the physician, "that any one of temperate habits who is not exposed to much bodily exertion, night air, and atmospherical changes, as a soldier must be, may have as much immunity from disease in St. Helena as in Europe; and I may therefore farther assert, that the disease of which Napoleon Buonaparte died was _not_ the effect of climate."

In support of Dr. Arnott's statement, it may be observed, that of Napoleon's numerous family of nearly fifty persons, English servants included, only one died during all their five years' residence on the island;[263] and that person (Cipriani, the major-domo) had contracted the illness which carried him off, being a species of consumption, before he left Europe.

Dr. Arnott, to whose opinion we are induced to give great weight, both from the excellence of his character and his having the best opportunities of information, states that the scirrhus, or cancer of the stomach, is an obscure disease; the symptoms which announce it being common to, and characteristic of, other diseases in the same region; yet he early conceived that some morbid alteration of the structure of the stomach had taken place, especially after he learned that his patient's father had died of scirrhus of the pylorus. He believed, as already hinted, that the disease was in its incipient state, even so far back as the end of the year 1817, when the patient was affected with pain in the stomach, nausea, and vomiting, especially after taking food; which symptoms never left him from that period, but increased progressively till the day of his death.

From this period, therefore, Napoleon was in a situation which, considering his great actions, and the height of his former fortunes, deserved the compassion of his most bitter enemies, and the sympathy of all who were disposed to take a moral lesson from the most extraordinary vicissitude of human affairs which history has ever presented. Nor can we doubt that such reflections might have eventually led to much relaxation in the severity with which the prisoner was watched, and, it may be, at length to his entire emancipation. But to attain this end, it would have been necessary that Napoleon's conduct, while under restrictions, should have been of a very different character from that which he thought it most politic, or felt it most natural, to adopt. First, to obtain the sympathy and privileges due to an invalid, he ought to have permitted the visits of some medical person, whose report might be held as completely impartial. This could not be the case with that of Dr. O'Meara, engaged as he was in the prisoner's intimate and even secret service, and on the worst terms with the governor; and Napoleon's positive rejection of all other assistance seemed to countenance the belief, however unjust, that he was either feigning indisposition, or making use of some slight symptoms of it to obtain a relaxation of the governor's vigilance. Nor was it to be supposed that Dr. Antommarchi's evidence, being that of an individual entirely dependent on Napoleon, could be considered as more authentic, till corroborated by some indifferent, and, at the same time, competent medical authority.

Secondly, It is to be remembered, that the fundamental reason on which Napoleon's confinement was vindicated, was, that his liberty was inconsistent with the tranquillity of Europe. To prove the contrary, it would have been necessary that the Ex-Emperor should have evinced a desire to retreat from political disputes, and shown symptoms of having laid aside or forgotten those ambitious projects which had so long convulsed Europe. Compassion, and the admiration of great talents, might then have led the states of Europe to confide in the resigned dispositions of one, whom age, infirmities, and sufferings, appeared to incline to dedicate the remainder of his days to ease and retirement, and in whom they might seem a sure guarantee for his pacific intentions. But so far were such feelings from being exhibited, that every thing which emanated from St. Helena showed that the Ex-Emperor nourished all his former plans, and vindicated all his former actions. He was not satisfied that the world should adopt the opinion that his ambition was allayed, and his pretensions to empire relinquished. On the contrary, his efforts, and those of the works into which he breathed his spirit, went to prove, if they proved any thing, that he never entertained ambition of a culpable character--that his claims of sovereignty were grounded upon national law and justice--that he had a right to entertain them formerly, and that he was disposed and entitled to assert them still. He was at pains to let the world know that he was not altered in the slightest degree, was neither ashamed of his projects, nor had renounced them; but, if restored to Europe, that he would be in all respects the same person, with the same claims, and little diminished activity, as when he landed at Cannes to recover the empire of France.

This mode of pleading his cause had the inevitable consequence of confirming all those who had deemed restrictions on his freedom to be necessary in the outset (and these were the great majority of Europe,) in the belief that the same reasons existed for continuing the restraint, which had originally caused it to be imposed. We are unwilling to revert again to the hackneyed simile of the imprisoned lion; but certainly, if the royal animal which Don Quixotte desired to set at liberty, had, instead of demeaning himself peaceably and with urbanity, been roaring, ramping, and tearing the bars of his cage, it may be questioned whether the Great Redresser of Wrongs himself would have advocated his freedom.

[Sidenote: LAS CASES.]

In November 1816, Napoleon sustained a loss to which he must have been not a little sensible, in the removal of Count Las Cases from his society. The devoted attachment of the Count to his person could not be doubted, and his age and situation as a civilian, made him less apt to enter into those feuds and quarrels, which sometimes, notwithstanding their general attachment to Napoleon, seemed to have arisen among the military officers of the household of Longwood. He was of a literary turn, and qualified to converse upon general topics, both of history and science. He had been an emigrant, and understanding all the manœuvres and intrigues of the ancient noblesse, had many narrations which Napoleon was not unwilling to listen to. Above all, he received and recorded every thing which was said by Napoleon, with undoubting faith and unwearied assiduity. And, like the author of one of the most entertaining books in the English language (Boswell's Life of Johnson,) Count Las Cases thought nothing trivial that could illustrate his subject. Like Boswell, too, his veneration for his principal was so deep, that he seems to have lost, in some cases, the exact perception of right and wrong, in his determination to consider Napoleon as always in the right. But his attachment, if to a certain degree tending to blind his judgment, came warm from his heart. The count gave a substantial mark, also, of his sincerity, in dedicating to his master's service a sum of £4000, or thereabout, his whole private fortune, which was vested in the English funds.[264]

For our misfortune, as also for his own, since he must have considered his separation from Buonaparte as such, Count Las Cases had been tempted into a line of conduct inconsistent with the engagement he had come under with the other attendants of the Ex-Emperor, not to hold secret communication beyond the verge of the island. The opportunity of a servant of his own returning to England, induced him to confide to the domestic's charge a letter, written upon a piece of white silk, that it might be the more readily concealed, which was stitched into the lad's clothes. It was addressed to Prince Lucien Buonaparte. As this was a direct transgression, in a most material point, of the conditions which Count Las Cases had promised to observe, he was dismissed from the island and sent to the Cape of Good Hope, and from thence to Europe.[265] His Journal remained for some time in the hands of Sir Hudson Lowe; but, as we had formerly occasion to mention, alterations and additions were afterwards made, which, in general, are more vituperative of the governor, than the manuscript as it originally stood when the Count left St. Helena. The abridgement of the Count's stay at the island was much to be regretted, as his Journal forms the best record, not only of Napoleon's real thoughts, but of the opinions which he desired should be received as such. Unquestionably, the separation from this devoted follower added greatly to the disconsolate situation of the Exile of Longwood; but it is impossible to suppress the remark, that, when a gentleman attached to Napoleon's suite found himself at liberty thus to break through a plighted engagement in his chief's behalf, it sufficiently vindicated Sir Hudson Lowe for putting little faith in the professions made to him, and declining to relax any reasonable degree of vigilance which the safe custody of his prisoner seemed to demand.

The complaints of Napoleon and his followers produced, as they ought to have done, an inquiry into the personal treatment of the Ex-Emperor, in the British Parliament; when the general reasoning which we have hinted at, joined to the exposure which ministers afforded of the exaggerated representations that had been made in the statements which had come from St. Helena, were found greatly to preponderate over the arguments of Napoleon's compassionate and accomplished advocate, Lord Holland.

[Sidenote: LORD HOLLAND'S MOTION.]

The question came before the House of Lords, on 18th March, 1817.[266] Lord Holland, in a speech of great good sense and moderation, disowned all attempts at persuading the House, that the general line of policy adopted with respect to Napoleon should be changed. It had been adopted in contradiction to his (Lord Holland's) sentiments, but it had been confirmed by Parliament, and he did not hope to obtain a reversal of their judgment. But, if the confining Napoleon was, as had been alleged, a measure of necessity, it followed that necessity must limit what necessity had created, and of course that the prisoner should be treated with no unnecessary harshness. His lordship did not presume to state the reports which had reached him as absolute matters of fact, but only as rumours which demanded an inquiry, where the honour of the country was so nearly concerned. Most of the allegations on which Lord Holland grounded his motion, were contained in a paper of complaints sent by General Montholon. The particulars noticed in this remonstrance were circumstances which have been already adverted to, but may be here briefly noticed, as well as the answers by the British Government.

First, the restrictions upon the exercising ground formerly allowed to Napoleon, was alleged as a grievance. The climate of St. Helena, Lord Holland admitted, was good, but his lordship complained that the upper part of the island, where Longwood was situated, was damp and unhealthy. The inconvenience of the house was also complained of.

Lord Bathurst, the colonial secretary of state, replied to this charge, that the general accounts of Longwood described it as healthy. It had been the usual country residence of the lieutenant-governor, which went far to show that the site could not be ineligible. The situation had been preferred by Napoleon himself, who was so impatient to take possession of it, that he even wished to have pitched a tent there till the house could be cleared for his reception. The restriction of the bounds of exercise, he explained to have been caused by Napoleon's evincing some disposition to tamper with the inhabitants. He still had a circuit of eight miles, within which he might range unattended and uncontrolled. If he wished to go farther, he was at liberty to traverse the island, upon permitting an orderly officer to join his suite. His refusal to take exercise on such terms, was not the fault of the British Government; and if Napoleon's health suffered in consequence, it was the result not of the regulations, which were reasonable and indispensable, but of his own wilfulness in refusing to comply with them.

The second class of exceptions taken by Lord Holland, was against what he considered as the harsh and iniquitous restrictions upon the exile's communication with Europe. He was not, his lordship stated, permitted to obtain books, or to subscribe for journals and newspapers. All intercourse by letter was interdicted to the distinguished prisoner, even with his wife, his child, and his nearest and dearest relatives. He was not allowed to write under seal to the Prince Regent.

Upon these several topics Lord Bathurst answered, that a list of books, the value of which amounted to £1400 or £1500 (which General Montholon termed a few books,) had been sent by Napoleon to Britain; that the commissioners put this list into the hands of an eminent French bookseller, who had supplied as many as could be obtained in London and Paris, but several of them, chiefly works on military matters, could not be procured. The volumes which could be procured, had been sent, with an apology for the omission of those which were not to be gotten; but the residents of Longwood had not admitted the excuse. Respecting the permission of a free subscription by Napoleon to journals, Lord Bathurst deemed it his duty to place some restriction upon that species of indulgence, attempts having been detected to establish a correspondence with Napoleon through the medium of newspapers. On the subject of intercourse with Europe by letter, Lord Bathurst stated that it was not interdicted, unless by the condition that Sir Hudson Lowe should previously be permitted to read the letter, whether of business or otherwise. This right, Lord Bathurst stated, had been exercised only by the governor in person, and with strict delicacy and feeling; and he repelled, with the most flat contradiction, the assertions of Montholon, that the governor of St. Helena had broken open and detained letters, under pretence that they did not come through the channel of the English minister. Lord Bathurst said, that General Montholon had been challenged by Sir Hudson Lowe to produce a single instance of such tyranny having been permitted, but that the French general had remained silent, the assertion being absolutely false. All the letters which the relatives of Napoleon were disposed to send through his, Lord Bathurst's office, he said, should be instantly forwarded, but it was a necessary preliminary that such should be written. Now, a letter from his brother Joseph, which was received in October last, and instantly forwarded, was the only one from any of his family or relatives which had reached the office. His lordship then adverted to the regulation which enacted, that even a letter to the Prince Regent must pass through the governor of St. Helena's hands in an open state. Lord Bathurst explained that the regulation gave the governor no authority or option as to transmitting the letter, which he was directed to forward instantly. The rule only required that Sir Hudson Lowe should be privy to the contents, in order, that, if it should contain any impeachment of his conduct, his defence or apology might reach London as soon as the accusation. This, his lordship remarked, was necessary, in order that no time might be lost in redressing a complaint of a grave character, or in repelling any frivolous and unsubstantial charge. He added, that should any sealed letter be addressed to the Prince Regent by Napoleon, he, Lord Bathurst, would have no hesitation to open it, if the governor had not previously done so. He should conceive it to be his duty to forward it instantly as addressed, whenever he was acquainted with the contents; but being in his department responsible for the acts of the sovereign, he would feel it his duty to make himself previously acquainted with the nature of the communication.

Thirdly, Lord Holland touched on the inadequacy of the sum allowed for the maintenance of Napoleon, and on the unworthiness of making that personage contribute to bear his own charges. The ministers, his lordship stated, having placed him in a situation where great expense was necessary, turned round upon him, and insisted that he should himself be in a great measure at the charge of supporting it.

Lord Bathurst replied by stating the facts with which the reader is already acquainted. He mentioned, that the sum of £8000 had been fixed upon as adequate, after the heavy expenses of the first year; and that it was increased to £12,000 on the remonstrance of Sir Hudson Lowe. This allowance, he said, was the same given to the governor, who had to bear the cost of frequent entertainments. It did not appear to government, that the family of Napoleon, which was to be maintained on the footing of that becoming a general officer of distinction, ought to cost more than that of Sir Hudson Lowe, who actually held that condition, with the necessity of discharging the expenses of his staff, and all other incumbent disbursements. He gave some details on the subject of the provisions and the cellar, from which it appeared, that, besides the inferior species of wine, the table of Napoleon was supplied at the rate of two bottles daily of those of a superior quality for each individual.

Lord Holland concluded with stating, that although Queen Mary could be no otherwise regarded than as the bitterest enemy of the illustrious Elizabeth, yet the greatest stain upon the memory of the latter sovereign was not the unjust, for _unjust_ it was not, but the harsh and ungenerous treatment of Mary. He reminded the House, that it would not be considered by posterity, whether Buonaparte had been justly punished for his crimes, but whether Great Britain had acted in that generous manner which became a great country. He then moved for the production of such papers and correspondence betwixt St. Helena and the British Government, as should seem best fitted to throw light on the personal treatment of Napoleon.

It may be observed, that in the candid and liberal manner in which Lord Holland stated the case, he was led into a comparison unfavourable to his own argument. To have rendered the case of Mary (the justice of which his lordship admitted, in questioning its generosity) parallel to that of Napoleon, two remarkable circumstances were wanting. First, Mary, far from being at war with Queen Elizabeth, was ostensibly on the most friendly terms with that sovereign when she took refuge in England; secondly, the British Ministry testified no design to finish Napoleon's confinement by cutting off his head.

Lord Darnley, who had concurred with Lord Holland in desiring an inquiry, now considered the reports alluded to as totally refuted by the candid and able statement of Lord Bathurst, and was not of opinion that Lord Holland should press the motion farther. The Marquis of Buckingham's opinion was founded on the broad ground of Napoleon's delinquencies towards Europe, and England in particular. He was of opinion, that every degree of restraint necessary to prevent his escape, should be imposed and enforced. The severe and close durance to which General Buonaparte was subjected, was not, his lordship said, dictated by motives of revenge, but of security. It was a piece of political justice which we owed to Europe, and the defeat of which would never be forgotten in this or in any other state of the civilized world.

The motion of Lord Holland does not appear to have been seconded, and was negatived without a division.

There can be no doubt that the failure of this effort in the British Senate had a deep effect on Napoleon's spirits, and may, perhaps, have aggravated that tendency to disease in the stomach, which was suspected to have already taken place. Nothing is better known, though perhaps few things are more difficult to be satisfactorily explained, than the mysterious connexion betwixt distress of mind and the action of the digestive powers. Violent sickness is produced on many persons by extreme and sudden affliction, and almost every one feels the stomach more or less affected by that which powerfully and painfully occupies the mind. And here we may add, that Lord Holland's kindness and compassion for so great a man, under such severe circumstances, were shown by a variety of delicate attentions on his part and that of his lady, and that the supplies of books and other articles sent by them through the Foreign Office, where every facility was afforded for the conveyance, continued from time to time to give Napoleon assurance of their sympathy. But though he gratefully felt their attentions, his distress of body, and perhaps of mind, assumed a character incapable of receiving consolation.

This unhappy state was kept up and prolonged by the extent to which Buonaparte indulged in determined opposition to the various regulations respecting the custody of his person; on which subject every thing which occurred occasioned a struggle against the authority of Sir Hudson Lowe, or a new effort to obtain the Imperial distinctions which he considered as due to his rank.

The last point seems to have been carried to the length of childish extravagance. It was necessary, for example, that Dr. O'Meara should report to the governor of the island the state of the prisoner's health, which began to give room for serious apprehension. Napoleon insisted, that when this bulletin was rendered in writing, O'Meara, whom he considered as in his own service, should give him the title of Emperor. It was in vain that the Doctor remonstrated, pleading that the instructions of Government, as well as the orders of Lieutenant-General Lowe, prohibited him from using this forbidden epithet; and it was with difficulty that he at last prevailed that the word Personage or Patient might be substituted for the offensive phrase of _General Buonaparte_. Had this ingenious device not been resorted to, there could have been no communication with the Government on the subject of Napoleon's health.

The physician of Napoleon had till now enjoyed an easy office. His health was naturally sound; and, like many persons who enjoy the same inestimable advantage, the Ex-Emperor doubted of the healing powers of medicines which he never needed to use. Abstinence was his chief resource against stomach complaints, when these began to assail him, and the bath was frequently resorted to when the pangs became more acute. He also held it expedient to change the character of his way of living, when he felt affected with illness. If it had been sedentary, he rode hard and took violent exercise; and if, on the contrary, he had been taking more exercise than usual, he was accustomed to lay it aside for prolonged repose. But more recently he had not the wish to mount on horseback, or take exercise at all.

About the 25th of September, 1817, Napoleon's health seems to have been seriously affected. He complained much of nausea, his legs swelled, and there were other unfavourable symptoms, which induced his physician to tell him that he was of a temperament which required much activity; that constant exertion of mind and body was indispensable; and that without exercise he must soon lose his health. He immediately declared, that while exposed to the challenge of sentinels, he never would take exercise, however necessary. Dr. O'Meara proposed calling in the assistance of Dr. Baxter, a medical gentleman of eminence on Sir Hudson Lowe's staff. "He could but say the same as you do," said Napoleon, "and recommend my riding abroad; nevertheless, as long as the present system continues, I will never stir out." At another time he expressed the same resolution, and his determination to take no medicines. Dr. O'Meara replied, that, if the disease should not be encountered by remedies in due time, it would terminate fatally. His answer was remarkable: "I will have at least the consolation that my death will be an eternal dishonour to the English nation, who sent me to this climate to die under the hands of * * * *." The physician again represented, that, by neglecting to take medicine, he would accelerate his own death. "That which is written is written," said Napoleon, looking up. "Our days are reckoned."[267]

This deplorable and desperate course seems to have been adopted partly to spite Sir Hudson Lowe, partly in the reckless feelings of despondency inspired by his situation, and in some degree, perhaps, was the effect of the disease itself, which must necessarily have disinclined him to motion. Napoleon might also hope, that, by thus threatening to injure his health by forbearing exercise, he might extort the governor's acquiescence in some points which were disputed betwixt them. When the governor sent to offer him some extension of his riding ground, and Dr. O'Meara wished him to profit by the permission, he replied, that he should be insulted by the challenge of the sentinels, and that he did not choose to submit to the caprice of the governor, who, granting an indulgence one day, might recall it the next. On such grounds as these--which, after all, amounted just to this, that being a prisoner, and one of great importance, he was placed under a system of vigilance, rendered more necessary by the constant intrigues carried on for his escape--did he feel himself at liberty to neglect those precautions of exercise and medicine, which were necessary for the preservation of his health. His conduct on such occasions can scarce be termed worthy of his powerful mind; it resembled too much that of the froward child, who refuses its food, or its physic, because it is contradicted.

[Sidenote: REMOVAL OF O'MEARA.]

The removal of Dr. O'Meara from Napoleon's person, which was considered by him as a great injury, was the next important incident in the monotony of his life. It seems, from quotations given elsewhere in this volume, that Dr. O'Meara had been for some time a confident of Sir Hudson Lowe, and was recommended by him to ministers as a person by whose means he could learn what passed in the family of Napoleon. But in process of time, Dr. O'Meara, growing, perhaps, more intimate with the prisoner, became unwilling to supply the governor with the information of which he had been formerly profuse, and a quarrel took place betwixt him and Sir Hudson Lowe. In describing the scenes which passed between him and the governor, we have already said that Dr. O'Meara writes with a degree of personal animosity, which is unfavourable to his own credit. But his departure from St. Helena was occasioned by a warmer mark of the interest which he took in Napoleon's fortunes, than could be inferred from his merely refusing to inform Sir Hudson of what was said at Longwood.

Dr. O'Meara seems not only to have taken the part of Napoleon in his controversies with the governor, but also to have engaged deeply in forwarding a secret correspondence with a Mr. Holmes, the Ex-Emperor's agent in London. This appears to have been clearly proved by a letter received from the agent, relating to large remittances of money to St. Helena, by the connivance of the physician.[268] Under such suspicions, Dr. O'Meara was withdrawn by the governor's mandate from attending on the person of Napoleon, and sent back to England. Napoleon had never obeyed his medical injunctions, but he complained severely when he was recalled from his household; expressing his belief that the depriving him of the medical attendant, whose prescriptions he had never followed, was a direct and bold step in the plan contrived for murdering him. It is probable, however, he regretted Dr. O'Meara's secret services more than those which were professional.

Sir Hudson Lowe again offered the assistance of Dr. Baxter, but this was construed at Longwood into an additional offence. It was even treated as an offer big with suspicion. The governor tried, it was said, to palm his own private physician upon the Emperor, doubtless that he might hold his life more effectually in his power. On the other hand, the British ministers were anxious that every thing should be done which could prevent complaints on this head. "You cannot better fulfil the wishes of his Majesty's Government" (says one of Lord Bathurst's despatches to the Governor) "than by giving effect to any measure which you may consider calculated to prevent any just ground of dissatisfaction on the part of General Buonaparte, on account of any real or supposed inadequacy of medical attendance."

Dr. Stokoe, surgeon on board the Conqueror, was next called in to visit at Longwood. But differences arose betwixt him and the governor, and after a few visits his attendance on Napoleon was discharged.

After this period, the prisoner expressed his determination, whatever might be the extremity of his case, not to permit the visits of an English physician; and a commission was sent to Italy to obtain a medical man of reputation from some of the seminaries in that country. At the same time, Napoleon signified a desire to have the company of a Catholic priest. The proposition for this purpose came through his uncle, Cardinal Fesch, to the Papal government, and readily received the assent of the British ministry. It would appear that this mission had been thought by his Holiness to resemble, in some degree, those sent into foreign and misbelieving countries; for two churchmen were despatched to St. Helena instead of one.

The senior priest, Father Bonavita, was an elderly man, subject to the infirmities belonging to his period of life, and broken by a residence of twenty-six years in Mexico. His speech had been affected by a paralytic stroke. His recommendation to the office which he now undertook, was his having been father confessor to Napoleon's mother. His companion was a young abbé, called Vignali.[269] Both were pious, good men, well qualified, doubtless, to give Napoleon the comfort which their Church holds out to those who receive its tenets, but not so much as to reclaim wanderers, or confirm those who might doubt the doctrines of the Church.

[Sidenote: RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.]

Argument or controversy, however, were not necessary. Napoleon had declared his resolution to die in the faith of his fathers. He was neither an infidel, he said, nor a philosopher. If we doubt whether a person who had conducted himself towards the Pope in the way which history records of Napoleon, and who had at one time been excommunicated, (if, indeed, the ban was yet removed,) could be sincere in his general professions of Catholicism, we must at least acquit the Exile of the charge of deliberate atheism. On various occasions, he expressed, with deep feelings of devotion, his conviction of the existence of the Deity, the great truth upon which the whole system of religion rests; and this at a time when the detestable doctrines of atheism and materialism were generally current in France. Immediately after his elevation to the dignity of First Consul, he meditated the restoration of religion; and thus, in a mixture of feeling and of policy, expressed himself upon the subject to Thibaudeau, then a counsellor of state. Having combated for a long time the systems of modern philosophers upon different kinds of worship, upon deism, natural religion, and so forth, he proceeded. "Last Sunday evening, in the general silence of nature, I was walking in these grounds (of Malmaison.) The sound of the church-bell of Ruel fell upon my ear, and renewed all the impressions of my youth. I was profoundly affected, such is the power of early habit and associations; and I considered, if such was the case with me, what must not be the effect of such recollections upon the more simple and credulous vulgar? Let your philosophers answer that. The people must have a religion." He went on to state the terms on which he would negotiate with the Pope, and added, "They will say I am a Papist--I am no such thing. I was a Mahomedan in Egypt. I will be a Catholic here, for the good of the people. I do not believe in forms of religion, but in the existence of a God!" He extended his hands towards heaven--"Who is it that has created all above and around us?"[270] This sublime passage proves, that Napoleon (unfortunate in having proceeded no farther towards the Christian shrine) had at least crossed the threshold of the temple, and believed in and worshipped the Great Father of the Universe.

The missionaries were received at St. Helena with civility, and the rites of mass were occasionally performed at Longwood. Both the clergymen were quiet, unobtrusive characters, confining themselves to their religious duties, and showing neither the abilities, nor the active and intriguing spirit which Protestants are apt to impute to the Catholic priesthood.

The same vessel which arrived at St. Helena on the 18th September, in 1819, with these physicians for the mind, brought with them Dr. F. Antommarchi, anatomic pro-sector (that is, assistant to a professor of anatomy) to the Hospital of St. Marie Neuve at Florence, attached to the University of Pisa, who was designed to supply the place about the prisoner's person, occupied by Dr. O'Meara, and after him provisionally by Dr. Stokoe. He continued to hold the office till Napoleon's death, and his Account of his Last Moments, a work in two volumes, though less interesting, and showing far less acuteness than that of Las Cases, or of O'Meara, is yet useful and entertaining, as relating to the last days of so extraordinary a person. Dr. Antommarchi seems to have been acceptable to Napoleon, and the rather that he was a native of Corsica. He brought also news from his family. The Princess Pauline Borghese had offered to come to attend him. "Let her remain where she is," said Napoleon; "I would not have her witness the degrading state which I am reduced to, and the insults to which I am subjected."

It is needless to resume the subject of these alleged insults. They consisted in the precautions which Sir Hudson Lowe deemed himself obliged to take for the security of his prisoner; particularly in requiring that a British officer should be regularly made assured of his being at Longwood, and that an officer, not under the rank of captain, should attend him on the excursions which he proposed to make through the island. On these subjects, Napoleon had made his mind up to a species of passive resistance; and had, as we have seen, already expressed himself determined to take no exercise, however indispensable to his health, unless the regulations of his confinement were entirely dispensed with, or modified according to his own pleasure. This was an argument _ad misericordiam_, which must have given the governor great distress and uneasiness; since, if the health of the prisoner should fail, even though it was through his own wilfulness, Sir Hudson could not expect that his conduct would escape censure. At the same time, if he yielded to this species of compulsory argument, it might be carried to an extent altogether inconsistent with the safe custody of the captive. His vigilance was also sharpened by constant reports of plots for the liberation of Napoleon; and the sums of money which he and his family had at their command, rendered it dangerous to trust to the natural securities of the island. It is remarkable, too, that, in demanding, as a matter of right, freedom from the restrictions of which he complained, Napoleon never proposed any concessions on his part, by offer of his parole or otherwise, which might tend to give any additional moral assurance, in place of those limitations which he desired to have removed. Yet, to accommodate himself, in some degree to his prisoner's obstinacy, Sir Hudson Lowe was content that the British officer, whose duty it was to report on the presence of Napoleon at Longwood, should only be required to satisfy himself of it by such indirect opportunities as his walking in the garden, or appearing at the window, permitted him to enjoy, and on such occasions he was enjoined to keep his own person concealed. In this way, there were days which passed without any regular report on this most important point, for which Sir Hudson Lowe would have been highly responsible if an escape had been effected. We beg to refer to Dr. Antommarchi's work for instances of the peculiar and grossly indelicate opportunities, which, to compound between the necessity of the case and the obstinacy of Napoleon, his attendants took to make his person visible when he was not aware of it.[271]

[Sidenote: PLANS OF ESCAPE.]

Schemes for Napoleon's escape were not wanting. A Colonel Latapie, distinguished as a partisan officer, was said to be at the head of an attempt to carry him off from St. Helena, which was to be undertaken by a band of desperadoes from America. But Napoleon said, he knew too well the character of such adventurers to hope to profit by them. Government had other information of attempts to be made from America, but none of them seem to have proceeded to any serious length.

It was different with the undertaking of Johnstone, a smuggler of an uncommonly resolute character, and whose life had been a tissue of desperate risks. He had made a memorable escape from Newgate, and had afterwards piloted Lord Nelson's vessel to the attack of Copenhagen, when the ordinary masters of the fleet, and pilots, declined the task. Johnstone was also said to have meditated a bold attempt to carry off Buonaparte on a former occasion, when he trusted himself on the water for the purpose of visiting Flushing.[272] And now he certainly engaged in a plot to deliver Napoleon from St. Helena, of a very singular kind. A submarine vessel--that is, a ship capable of being sunk under water for a certain time, and of being raised again at pleasure by disengaging certain weights, was to be the means of effecting this enterprise. It was thought that, by sinking the vessel during the daytime, she might escape the notice of the British cruizers, and being raised at night, might approach the guarded rock without discovery. The vessel was actually begun in one of the building-yards upon the Thames; but the peculiarity of her construction having occasioned suspicions, she was seized by the British Government.

These, and others which we could name, were very perilous and wild attempts, yet calculated to keep vigilance alive; for in every case in which great natural difficulties had been surmounted by such enterprises, it has been because these difficulties have been too much relied upon. But while such precarious means of escape were presented from time to time, the chance upon which Napoleon secretly relied for release from his present situation was vanishing from his eyes.

His case was mentioned in the House of Commons, but incidentally only, on the 12th July 1819.[273] The subject was introduced into a debate on finance, when Mr. C. H. Hutchinson pointed out the yearly expense of detaining Napoleon at St. Helena, which he stated to amount to half-a-million sterling, as a useless expenditure of public money. In this statement, he received no countenance from any one except Mr. Joseph Hume. It was answered by the Chancellor of the Exchequer; and the expense was declared not to exceed a fifth-part of the sum alleged. The leading members of Opposition seemed to take no interest in the question; and it was believed at St. Helena, that Napoleon's disappointment in the hopes which he had entertained of their strong and overpowering interposition in his behalf, first led to his mental depression and total abandonment of hope.

The complexion of the times, indeed, had become such as to strengthen every reason which existed for detaining him in captivity. The state of England, owing to the discontent and sufferings of the manufacturing districts--and more especially that of Italy, convulsed by the short-lived revolutions of Naples and Savoy--rendered the safe custody of Napoleon a matter of more deep import than it had been at any time since his fall. What the effect of his name might have produced in that moment of general commotion, cannot be estimated, but the consequences of his escape must have been most formidable.

The British Ministry, aware of the power of such a spirit to work among the troubled elements, anxiously enjoined additional vigilance to the governor of St. Helena:

"The overthrow of the Neapolitan government, the revolutionary spirit which more or less prevails over all Italy, and the doubtful state of France itself, must excite his attention, and clearly show that a crisis is fast approaching, if not already arrived, when his escape would be productive of important consequences. That his partisans are active, cannot be doubted; and if he be ever willing to hazard the attempt, he will never allow such an opportunity to escape. You will, therefore, exert all your attention in watching his proceedings, and call upon the admiral to use his utmost vigilance, as upon the navy so much must ultimately depend."[274]

[Sidenote: INCREASED ILLNESS.]

The alarm was natural, but there was no real cause for apprehension. Politics and war were never more to know the powerful influence of Napoleon Buonaparte. His lost hopes aggravating the progress of the cruel disease, which had its source in the stomach, it now affected the whole frame, and undermined the strength of the constitution. Death was now finally to terminate the fretful and degrading discussions, by which he inflicted, and from which he received, so much pain, and to open the gates of a prison, for which Hope herself could scarce present another key. The symptoms of disorganisation in the digestive powers became more and more apparent, and his reluctance to take any medicine, as if from an instinctive persuasion that the power of physic was in vain, continued as obstinate as ever. On one of the many disputes which he maintained on this subject, he answered Antommarchi's reasoning thus:--"Doctor, no physicking. We are, as I already told you, a machine made to live. We are organised for that purpose, and such is our nature. Do not counteract the living principle. Let it alone--leave it the liberty of defending itself--it will do better than your drugs. Our body is a watch, that is intended to go for a given time. The watchmaker cannot open it; and must, on handling it, grope his way blindfolded and at random. For once that he assists and relieves it by dint of tormenting it with his crooked instruments, he injures it ten times, and at last destroys it."[275] This was on the 14th of October, 1820.

As the Ex-Emperor's health grew weaker, it cannot be thought extraordinary that his mind became more and more depressed. In lack of other means of amusing himself, he had been somewhat interested in the construction of a pond and fountain in the garden of Longwood, which was stocked with small fishes. A mixture of copperas in the mastick employed in cementing the basin, had affected the water. The creatures which had been in a good measure the object of Napoleon's attention, began to sicken and to die. He was deeply affected by the circumstance, and, in language strongly resembling the beautiful verses of Moore, expressed his sense of the fatality which seemed to attach itself to him. "Every thing I love--every thing that belongs to me," he exclaimed, "is immediately struck.[276] Heaven and mankind unite to afflict me."[277] At other times he lamented his decay of energy. The bed, he said, was now a place of luxury, which he would not exchange for all the thrones in the universe. The eyes, which formerly were so vigilant, could now scarcely be opened. He recollected that he used to dictate to four or five secretaries at once. "But then," he said, "I was Napoleon--now I am no longer any thing--my strength, my faculties, forsake me--I no longer live, I only exist."[278] Often he remained silent for many hours, suffering, as may be supposed, much pain, and immersed in profound melancholy.

About the 22d January, 1821, Napoleon appeared to resume some energy, and to make some attempt to conquer his disease by exercise. He mounted his horse, and galloped, for the last time, five or six miles around the limits of Longwood, but nature was overcome by the effort. He complained that his strength was sinking under him rapidly.[279]

The governor had already transmitted to Britain accounts of Napoleon's decay of health, without having it, however, in his power to ascertain how far it was real, or how far the appearances were assumed. The patient would neither receive the visit of any English surgeon or physician, nor would he authorise the communication of Dr. Antommarchi with Sir Hudson Lowe. The governor was obliged to state accounts of the prisoner's declining health as reports, the reality of which he had no means of ascertaining. The generous feelings of the great personage at the head of the British Government were naturally deeply interested in the fate of the prisoner, and prompted him, by every means in his power, and especially by expressions of his own sympathy, to extend such hope and comfort to Napoleon as he could be supposed to receive, under the necessity of his continued captivity. The following is Lord Bathurst's despatch to Sir Hudson Lowe on this interesting subject, dated 16th February, 1821:--

"I am aware how difficult it is to make any communication to the General which will not be liable to misrepresentation; and yet, if he be really ill, he may derive some consolation by knowing, that the repeated accounts which have of late been transmitted of his declining health, have not been received with indifference. You will, therefore, communicate to General Buonaparte the great interest which his Majesty has taken in the recent accounts of his indisposition, and the anxiety which his Majesty feels to afford him every relief of which his situation admits. You will assure General Buonaparte that there is no alleviation which can be derived from additional medical assistance, nor any arrangement consistent with the safe custody of his person at St. Helena, (and his Majesty cannot now hold out any expectation of his removal,) which his Majesty is not most ready and desirous to afford. You will not only repeat the offer which has already been more than once made, of such further medical assistance as the island of St. Helena affords, but you will give him the option of procuring the attendance of any of the medical gentlemen who are at the Cape, where there is one, at least, of considerable eminence in his profession; and in case of any wish being expressed by the General to receive such assistance, you will consider yourself authorised to make a communication to the Cape, and take such other measures as may be necessary to secure the immediate attendance of the person whom the General may name."

Napoleon had not the satisfaction to know the interest which his Majesty took in his illness, which would probably have afforded him some gleam of consolation. The tenor of the letter might, perhaps, have induced him to think, that his own system of pertinacious contest with the authorities under whose charge he was placed, had been so far injudicious, as to lead to doubts of the reality of the disorder under which he was dying; and had therefore been one great cause of intercepting the sympathy, and perhaps the relief, which must otherwise have extended itself to a situation so well deserving of commiseration.

[Sidenote: LAST ILLNESS.]

Towards the end of March the disease assumed a character still more formidable, and Dr. Antommarchi became desirous of obtaining a consultation with some of the English medical men. The Emperor's aversion to their assistance had been increased by a well-meant offer of the governor, announcing that a physician of eminence had arrived at the island, whom he therefore placed at General Buonaparte's devotion.[280] This proposal, like every other advance on the part of Sir Hudson Lowe, had been received as a meditated injury; "He wants to deceive Europe by false bulletins," said Napoleon; "I will not see any one who is in communication with him."[281] To refuse seeing every physician but his own, was certainly an option which ought to have been left in Napoleon's choice, and it was so left accordingly. But in thus obstinately declining to see an impartial medical man, whose report must have been conclusive respecting his state of health, Napoleon unquestionably strengthened the belief, that his case was not so desperate as it proved to be.

At length the Ex-Emperor consented that Dr. Antommarchi should consult with Dr. Arnott, surgeon of the 20th regiment.[282] But the united opinion of the medical gentlemen could not overcome the aversion of Napoleon to medicine, or shake the belief which he reposed in the gloomy doctrines of fatalism. "Quod scriptum scriptum," he replied in the language of a Moslem; "All that is to happen is written down. Our hour is marked, and it is not in our power to claim a moment longer of life than Fate has predestined for us."[283]

Dr. Antommarchi finally prevailed in obtaining admittance for Dr. Arnott into the apartment and presence of the patient, who complained chiefly of his stomach, of the disposition to vomit, and deficiency of the digestive powers. He saw him, for the first time on 2d April, 1821, and continued his visits regularly. Napoleon expressed his opinion that his liver was affected. Dr. Arnott's observations led him to think, that though the action of the liver might be imperfect, the seat of the disease was to be looked for elsewhere. And here it is to be remarked, that Napoleon, when Dr. Antommarchi expressed doubts on the state of his stomach, had repelled them with sharpness, though his own private belief was, that he was afflicted with the disease of his father. Thus, with a capricious inconsistency, natural enough to a sick bed, he communicated to some of his retinue his sense of what disease afflicted him, though, afraid perhaps of some course of medicine being proposed, he did not desire that his surgeon should know his suspicions.[284] From the 15th to the 24th of April, Napoleon was engaged from time to time in making his testamentary bequests, of which we shall have occasion to make some mention hereafter, as illustrative of his peculiar character and sentiments. On the day last mentioned, he was greatly exhausted by the fatigue of writing, and showed symptoms of over-excitation. Among these may be safely included, a plan which he spoke of for reconciling all religious dissensions in France, which he said he had designed to carry into effect.

As the strength of the patient gradually sunk, the symptoms of his disease became less equivocal, until, on the 27th April, the ejection of a dark-coloured fluid gave farther insight into the nature of the malady. Dr. Antommarchi persevered in attributing it to climate, which was flattering the wish of the patient, who desired to lay his death upon his confinement at St. Helena; while Dr. Arnott expressed his belief that the disease was the same which cut off his father in the pure air of Montpellier. Dr. Antommarchi, as usually happens to the reporter of a debate, silenced his antagonist in the argument, although Dr. Arnott had by this time obtained the patient's own authority for the assertion. Upon the 28th of April, Napoleon gave instructions to Antommarchi, that after his death his body should be opened, but that no English medical man should touch him, unless in the case of assistance being absolutely necessary, in which case he gave Antommarchi leave to call in that of Dr. Arnott. He directed that his heart should be conveyed to Parma, to Maria Louisa; and requested anxiously that his stomach should be particularly examined, and the report transmitted to his son. "The vomitings," he said, "which succeed one another without interruption, lead me to suppose that the stomach is, of all my organs, the most diseased; and I am inclined to believe that it is attacked with the same disorder which killed my father--I mean a scirrhus in the pylorus." On the 2d May, the patient returned to the same interesting subject, reminded Antommarchi of his anxiety that the stomach should be carefully examined. "The physicians of Montpellier had announced that the scirrhus in the pylorus would be hereditary in my family. Their report is, I believe, in the hands of Louis. Ask for it, and compare it with your own observations, that I may save my son from the sufferings I now experience."

[Sidenote: DEATH.]

During the 3d May, it was seen that the life of Napoleon was drawing evidently to a close; and his followers, and particularly his physician, became desirous to call in more medical assistance;--that of Dr. Shortt, physician to the forces, and of Dr. Mitchell, surgeon of the flagship, was referred to. Dr. Shortt, however, thought it proper to assert the dignity belonging to his profession, and refused (being under the same roof with the patient,) to give an opinion on a case of so much importance in itself, and attended with so much obscurity, unless he were permitted to see and examine him. The officers of Napoleon's household excused themselves, by professing that the Emperor's strict commands had been laid on them, that no English physician, Dr. Arnott excepted, should approach his dying bed. They said, that even when he was speechless they would be unable to brook his eye, should he turn it upon them in reproof for their disobedience.

About two o'clock of the same day, the priest Vignali administered the sacrament of extreme unction. Some days before, Napoleon had explained to him the manner in which he desired his body should be laid out in state, in an apartment lighted by torches, or what Catholics call _une chambre ardente_. "I am neither," he said, in the same phrase which we have formerly quoted, "a philosopher nor a physician. I believe in God, and am of the religion of my father. It is not every body who can be an atheist. I was born a Catholic, and will fulfil all the duties of the Catholic Church, and receive the assistance which it administers." He then turned to Dr. Antommarchi, whom he seems to have suspected of heterodoxy, which the doctor, however, disowned. "How can you carry it so far?" he said. "Can you not believe in God, whose existence every thing proclaims, and in whom the greatest minds have believed?"[285]

As if to mark a closing point of resemblance betwixt Cromwell and Napoleon, a dreadful tempest arose on the 4th May, which preceded the day that was to close the mortal existence of this extraordinary man. A willow, which had been the Exile's favourite, and under which he had often enjoyed the fresh breeze, was torn up by the hurricane; and almost all the trees about Longwood shared the same fate.

The 5th of May came amid wind and rain. Napoleon's passing spirit was deliriously engaged in a strife more terrible than that of the elements around. The words "_tête d'armée_," the last which escaped his lips, intimated that his thoughts were watching the current of a heady fight. About eleven minutes before six in the evening, Napoleon, after a struggle which indicated the original strength of his constitution, breathed his last.

* * * * *

The officers of Napoleon's household were disposed to have the body anatomized in secret. But Sir Hudson Lowe had too deep a sense of the responsibility under which he and his country stood, to permit this to take place. He declared, that even if he were reduced to make use of force, he would insure the presence of English physicians at the dissection.

Generals Bertrand and Montholon, with Marchand, the valet-de-chambre of the deceased, were present at the operation, which took place on the 6th of May. It was also witnessed by Sir Thomas Reade, and some British staff-officers. Drs. Thomas Shortt, Archibald Arnott, Charles Mitchell, Matthew Livingstone, and Francis Burton, all of them medical men, were also present. The cause of death was sufficiently evident. A large ulcer occupied almost the whole of the stomach. It was only the strong adhesion of the diseased parts of that organ to the concave surface of the lobe of the liver, which, being over the ulcer, had prolonged the patient's life by preventing the escape of the contents of the stomach into the cavity of the abdomen. All the other parts of the viscera were found in a tolerably healthy state. The report was signed by the British medical gentlemen present. Dr. Antommarchi was about to add his attestation, when, according to information which we consider as correct, General Bertrand interdicted his doing so, because the report was drawn up as relating to the body of _General Buonaparte_. Dr. Antommarchi's own account does not, we believe, greatly differ from that of the British professional persons, though he has drawn conclusions from it which are apparently inconsistent with the patient's own conviction, and the ghastly evidence of the anatomical operation. He continued to insist that his late patron had not died of the cancer which we have described, or, in medical language, of scirrhus of the pylorus, but of a _chronic gastro hepatitis_, a disease he stated to be endemic in the island of St. Helena; although we do not observe it asserted or proved that the hospital of the island, at any time, produced a single case like that of the deceased captive.

The gentlemen of Napoleon's suite were desirous that his heart should be preserved and given to their custody. But Sir Hudson Lowe did not feel himself at liberty to permit this upon his own authority. He agreed, however, that the heart should be placed in a silver vase, filled with spirits, and interred along with the body; so that, in case his instructions from home should so permit, it might be afterwards disinhumed and sent to Europe.

The place of interment became the next subject of discussion. On this subject Napoleon had been inconsistent. His testamentary disposition expressed a wish that his remains should be deposited on the banks of the Seine; a request which he could not for an instant suppose would be complied with, and which appears to have been made solely for the sake of producing effect. The reflection of an instant would have been sufficient to call to recollection, that he would not, while in power, have allowed Louis XVIII. a grave in the land of his fathers; nor _did_ he permit the remains of the Duc D'Enghien any other interment than that assigned to the poorest outcast, who is huddled to earth on the spot on which he dies. But neither did the agitated state of the public mind, now general through Italy, recommend the measure.

[Sidenote: FUNERAL.]

A grave for the Emperor of France, within the limits of the rocky island to which his last years were limited, was the alternative that remained; and sensible that this was likely to be the case, he had himself indicated the spot where he wished to lie. It was a small secluded recess, called Slane's, or Haines' Valley, where a fountain arose, at which his Chinese domestics used to fill the silver pitchers which they carried to Longwood for Napoleon's use. The spot had more of verdure and shade than any in the neighbourhood; and the illustrious Exile was often accustomed to repose under the beautiful weeping willows which overhung the spring. The body, after lying in state in his small bed-room, during which time it was visited by every person of condition in the island, was, on the 8th May, carried to the place of interment. The pall which covered the coffin was the military cloak which Napoleon had worn at the battle of Marengo. The members of his late household attended as mourners, and were followed by the governor, the admiral, and all the civil and military authorities of the island. All the troops were under arms upon the solemn occasion. As the road did not permit a near approach of the hearse to the place of sepulture, a party of British grenadiers had the honour to bear the coffin to the grave. The prayers were recited by the priest, Abbé Vignali. Minute guns were fired from the admiral's ship. The coffin was then let down into the grave, under a discharge of three successive volleys of artillery, from fifteen pieces of cannon. A large stone was then lowered down on the grave, and covered the moderate space now sufficient for the man for whom Europe was once too little.

CONCLUSION.

[Sidenote: CONCLUSION.]

Arrived at the conclusion of this momentous narrative, the reader may be disposed to pause a moment to reflect on the character of that wonderful person, on whom Fortune showered so many favours in the beginning and through the middle of his career, to overwhelm its close with such deep and unwonted afflictions.

The external appearance of Napoleon was not imposing at the first glance, his stature being only five feet six inches English. His person, thin in youth, and somewhat corpulent in age, was rather delicate than robust in outward appearance, but cast in the mould most capable of enduring privation and fatigue. He rode ungracefully, and without the command of his horse which distinguishes a perfect cavalier; so that he showed to disadvantage when riding beside such a horseman as Murat. But he was fearless, sat firm in his seat, rode with rapidity, and was capable of enduring the exercise for a longer time than most men. We have already mentioned his indifference to the quality of his food, and his power of enduring abstinence. A morsel of food, and a flask of wine hung at his saddle-bow, used, in his earlier campaigns, to support him for days. In his latter wars, he more frequently used a carriage; not, as has been surmised, from any particular illness, but from feeling in a frame so constantly in exercise the premature effects of age.

The countenance of Napoleon is familiar to almost every one from description, and the portraits which are found every where. The dark-brown hair bore little marks of the attentions of the toilet. The shape of the countenance approached more than is usual in the human race to a square. His eyes were grey and full of expression, the pupils rather large, and the eyebrows not very strongly marked. The brow and upper part of the countenance was rather of a stern character. His nose and mouth were beautifully formed. The upper lip was very short. The teeth were indifferent, but were little shown in speaking.[286] His smile possessed uncommon sweetness, and is stated to have been irresistible. The complexion was a clear olive, otherwise in general colourless. The prevailing character of his countenance was grave, even to melancholy, but without any signs of severity or violence. After death, the placidity and dignity of expression which continued to occupy the features, rendered them eminently beautiful, and the admiration of all who looked on them.

Such was Napoleon's exterior. His personal and private character was decidedly amiable, excepting in one particular. His temper, when he received, or thought he received, provocation, especially if of a personal character, was warm and vindictive. He was, however, placable in the case even of his enemies, providing that they submitted to his mercy; but he had not that species of generosity which respects the sincerity of a manly and fair opponent. On the other hand, no one was a more liberal rewarder of the attachment of his friends. He was an excellent husband, a kind relation, and, unless when state policy intervened, a most affectionate brother. General Gourgaud, whose communications were not in every case to Napoleon's advantage, states him to have been the best of masters, labouring to assist all his domestics wherever it lay in his power, giving them the highest credit for such talents as they actually possessed, and imputing, in some instances, good qualities to such as had them not.

There was gentleness, and even softness, in his character. He was affected when he rode over the fields of battle, which his ambition had strewed with the dead and the dying, and seemed not only desirous to relieve the victims--issuing for that purpose directions, which too often were not, and could not be, obeyed--but showed himself subject to the influence of that more acute and imaginative species of sympathy, which is termed sensibility. He mentions a circumstance which indicates a deep sense of feeling. As he passed over a field of battle in Italy, with some of his generals, he saw a houseless dog lying on the body of his slain master. The creature came towards them, then returned to the dead body, moaned over it pitifully, and seemed to ask their assistance. "Whether it were the feeling of the moment," continued Napoleon, "the scene, the hour, or the circumstance itself, I was never so deeply affected by any thing which I have seen upon a field of battle. That man, I thought, has perhaps had a house, friends, comrades, and here he lies deserted by every one but his dog. How mysterious are the impressions to which we are subject! I was in the habit, without emotion, of ordering battles which must decide the fate of a campaign, and could look with a dry eye on the execution of manœuvres which must be attended with much loss; and here I was moved--nay, painfully affected--by the cries and the grief of a dog. It is certain that at that moment I should have been more accessible to a suppliant enemy, and could better understand the conduct of Achilles in restoring the body of Hector to the tears of Priam."[287] The anecdote at once shows that Napoleon possessed a heart amenable to humane feelings, and that they were usually in total subjection to the stern precepts of military stoicism. It was his common and expressive phrase, that the heart of a politician should be in his head; but his feelings sometimes surprised him in a gentler mood.

A calculator by nature and by habit, Napoleon was fond of order, and a friend to that moral conduct in which order is best exemplified. The libels of the day have made some scandalous averments to the contrary, but without adequate foundation. Napoleon respected himself too much, and understood the value of public opinion too well, to have plunged into general or vague debauchery.

Considering his natural disposition, then, it may be assumed that if Napoleon had continued in the vale of private life, and no strong temptation of passion or revenge had crossed his path, he must have been generally regarded as one whose friendship was every way desirable, and whose enmity it was not safe to incur.

But the opportunity afforded by the times, and the elasticity of his own great talents, both military and political, raised him with unexampled celerity to a sphere of great power, and at least equal temptation. Ere we consider the use which he made of his ascendency, let us briefly review the causes by which it was accomplished.

The consequences of the Revolution, however fatal to private families, were the means of filling the camps of the nation with armies of a description which Europe had never seen before, and it is to be hoped, will never witness again. There was neither safety, honour, nor almost subsistence, in any other profession than the military; and accordingly it became the refuge of the best and bravest of the youth of France, until the army ceased to consist, as in most nations, of the miserable and disorderly class of the community, but was levied in the body and bosom of the state, and composed of the flower of France, whether as regarded health, moral qualities, or elevation of mind. With such men, the generals of the republic achieved many and great victories, but without being able to ensure corresponding advantages. This may have been in a great measure occasioned by the dependence in which these leaders were held by the various administrators of the republic at home--a dependence accounted for by the necessity of having recourse to those in power at Paris, for the means of paying and supporting their armies. From the time that Napoleon passed the Alps, he inverted this state of things; and made the newly conquered countries not only maintain the army by means of contributions and confiscations, but even contribute to support the government. Thus war, which had hitherto been a burden to the republic, became in his hands a source of public revenue; while the youthful general, contributing to the income of the state, on which his predecessors had been dependent, was enabled to assert the freedom at which he speedily aimed, and correspond with the Directory upon a footing approaching to equality. His talents as a soldier, and situation as a victorious general, soon raised him from equality to pre-eminence.

These talents applied not less to the general arrangements of the campaign, than to the dispositions for actual battle. In each of these great departments of war, Napoleon was not merely a pupil of the most approved masters of the art--he was an improver, an innovator, and an inventor.

In strategie, he applied upon a gigantic scale the principles upon which Frederick of Prussia had acted, and gained a capital or a kingdom, when Frederick would have won a town or a province. His system was, of course, that of assembling the greatest possible force of his own upon the vulnerable point of the enemy's position, paralyzing, perhaps, two parts of their army, while he cut the third to pieces, and then following up his position by destroying the remainder in detail. For this purpose, he taught generals to divide their armies upon the march, with a view to celerity of movement and facility of supply, and to unite them at the moment of contest, where an attack would be most feebly resisted, because least expected. For this, also, he first threw aside all species of baggage which could possibly be dispensed with--supplied the want of magazines by the contributions exacted from the country, or collected from individuals by a regular system of marauding--discontinued the use of tents, and trusted to bivouacking with his soldiers, where hamlets could not be found, and there was no time to erect huts. His system was ruinous in point of lives, for even the military hospitals were often dispensed with; but although Moreau termed Napoleon a conqueror at the rate of ten thousand men a-day, yet the sacrifice for a length of time uniformly attained the object for which it was designed. The enemy who had remained in their extensive cantonments, distracted by the reports of various columns moving in different directions, were surprised and defeated by the united force of the French, which had formed a junction where and when it was least expected. It was not till they had acquired the art of withdrawing from his attack so soon as made, that the allies learned to defeat the efforts of his movable columns.

Napoleon was not less original as a tactician than as a strategist. His manœuvres on the field of battle had the promptness and decision of the thunderbolt. In the actual shock of conflict, as in the preparations which he made for bringing it on, his object was to amuse the enemy upon many points, while he oppressed one by an unexpected force of numbers. The breaking through the line, the turning of a flank, which had been his object from the commencement of the fight, lay usually disguised under a great number of previous demonstrations, and was not attempted until both the moral and physical force of the enemy was impaired by the length of the combat. It was at this period that he brought up his guards, who, impatient of inactivity, had been held in readiness for hours, and now, springing forward like wolf-dogs from the leash, had the glorious task, in which they rarely failed, of deciding the long-sustained contest. It may be added, as further characteristic of his tactics, that he preferred employing the order of the column to that of the line; perhaps on account of the faith which he might rest in the extreme valour of the French officers by whom the column was headed.

The interest which Napoleon preserved in the French soldier's affection by a frequent distribution of prizes and distinctions, as well as by his familiar notice of their persons, and attention to their wants, joined to his possession of absolute and independent command, rendered it no difficult matter for him to secure their support in the revolution of the eighteenth Brumaire, and in placing him at the head of affairs. Most part of the nation were heartily tired by this time of the continually unsettled state of the government, and the various changes which it had experienced, from the visionary speculations of the Girondists, the brutal and bloody ferocity of the Jacobins, and the sordid and undecided versatility and imbecility of the Directory; and the people in general desired a settled form of government, which, if less free, should be more stable in duration, and better calculated to assure to individuals the protection of property and of personal freedom, than those which had followed the downfall of the monarchy. A successful general, of a character more timid, or conscience more tender, than that of Napoleon, might have attempted the restoration of the Bourbons. But Napoleon foresaw the difficulties which would occur by an attempt to reconcile the recall of the emigrants to the assurance of the national sales, and aptly concluded, that the parties which tore France to pieces would be most readily amalgamated together under the authority of one, who was in a great measure a stranger to them all.

Arrived at the possession of supreme power, a height that dazzles and confounds so many, Napoleon seemed only to occupy the station for which he was born, to which his peculiar powers adapted him, and his brilliant career of success gave him, under all circumstances, an irresistible claim. He continued, therefore, with a calm mind and enlightened wisdom, to consider the means of rendering his power stable, of destroying the republican impulse, and establishing a monarchy, of which he destined himself to be the monarch. To most men the attempt to revive, in favour of a military adventurer, a form of government, which had been rejected by what seemed the voice of the nation with universal acclaim, would have appeared an act of desperation. The partisans of the Republic were able statesmen, and men of superior talent, accustomed also to rule the fierce democracy, and organise those intrigues which had overthrown crown and altar; and it was hardly to be supposed that such men would, were it but for shame's sake, have seen their ten years' labour at once swept away by the sword of a young though successful general.

But Napoleon knew himself and them; and felt the confidence, that those who had been associates in the power acquired by former revolutions, must be now content to sink into the instruments of his advancement, and the subordinate agents of his authority, contented with such a share of spoil as that with which the lion rewards the jackall.

To the kingdom at large, upon every new stride towards power, he showed the certificate of superior efficacy, guaranteed by the most signal success; and he assumed the empire of France under the proud title, _Detur dignissimo_. Neither did his actions up to this point encourage any one to challenge the defects or flaws of his title. In practice, his government was brilliant abroad, and, with few exceptions, liberal and moderate at home. The abominable murder of the Duc d'Enghien showed the vindictive spirit of a savage; but, in general, the public actions of Napoleon, at the commencement of his career, were highly laudable. The battle of Marengo, with its consequences--the softening of civil discord, the reconciliation with the Church of Rome, the recall of the great body of the emigrants, and the revivification of National Jurisprudence--were all events calculated to flatter the imagination, and even gain the affections, of the people.

But, with a dexterity peculiar to himself, Napoleon proceeded, while abolishing the Republic, to press into his service those very democratical principles which had given rise to the Revolution, and encouraged the attempt to found a commonwealth. His sagacity had not failed to observe, that the popular objections to the ancient government were founded less upon any objection to the royal authority in itself, than a dislike, amounting to detestation, of the privileges which it allotted to the nobles and to the clergy, who held, from birth and office, the right to fill the superior ranks in every profession, and barred the competition of all others, however above them in merit. When, therefore, Napoleon constructed his new form of monarchical government, he wisely considered that he was not, like hereditary monarchs, tied down to any particular rules arising out of ancient usage, but, being himself creator of the power which he wielded, he was at liberty to model it according to his own pleasure. He had been raised also so easily to the throne, by the general acknowledgment of his merits, that he had not needed the assistance of a party of his own; consequently, being unfettered by previous engagements, and by the necessity of gratifying old partisans, or acquiring new ones, his conduct was in a very unusual degree free and unlimited.

Having, therefore, attained the summit of human power, he proceeded, advisedly and deliberately, to lay the foundation of his throne on that democratic principle which had opened his own career, and which was the throwing open to merit, though without farther title, the road to success in every department of the state. This was the secret key of Napoleon's policy; and he was so well aided in the use of it, by acute perception of character, as well as by good nature and good feeling (both of which, in his cooler moments, he possessed,) that he never, through all his vicissitudes, lost an opportunity of conciliating and pleasing the multitude by evincing a well-timed attention to distinguish and reward talent.[288] To this his conversation perpetually alluded; and for this he claims, and is entitled to, the highest praise. We have little hesitation in repeating, that it was thus opening a full career to talent of every kind, which was the key-stone of his reputation, and the main foundation of his power. Unhappily, his love of merit, and disposition to reward it, were not founded exclusively upon a patriotic attention to the public welfare, far less on a purely benevolent desire to reward what was praiseworthy; but upon a principle of selfish policy, to which must be ascribed a great part of his success, no small portion of his misfortunes, and almost all his political crimes.

We have quoted elsewhere the description given of the Emperor by his brother Lucien, in a moment probably of spleen, but which has been nevertheless confirmed by almost all the persons habitually conversant with Napoleon at whom we have had an opportunity of making inquiries. "His conduct," said his brother, "is entirely regulated by his policy, and his policy is altogether founded upon egotism." No man, perhaps, ever possessed (under the restrictions to be presently mentioned) so intense a proportion of that selfish principle which is so common to humanity. It was planted by nature in his heart, and nourished by the half monastic, half military education, which so early separated him from social ties; it was encouraged by the consciousness of possessing talents which rendered him no mate for the ordinary men among whom his lot seemed cast; and became a confirmed habit, by the desolate condition in which he stood at his first outset in life, without friend, protector, or patron. The praise, the promotion he received, were given to his genius, not to his person; and he who was conscious of having forced his own way, had little to bind him in gratitude or kindness to those who only made room for him because they durst not oppose him. His ambition was a modification of selfishness, sublime indeed in its effects and consequences, but yet, when strictly analyzed, leaving little but egotism in the crucible.

Our readers are not, however, to suppose, that the selfishness of Napoleon was of that ordinary and odious character, which makes men miserly, oppressive, and fraudulent in private life; or which, under milder features, limits their exertions to such enterprises as may contribute to their own individual profit, and closes the heart against feelings of patriotism, or of social benevolence. Napoleon's egotism and love of self was of a far nobler and more elevated kind, though founded on similar motives--just as the wings of the eagle, who soars into the regions of the sun, move on the same principles with those which cannot bear the dunghill fowl over the pales of the poultry-yard.

To explain our meaning, we may add that Napoleon loved France, for France was his own. He studied to confer benefits upon her, for the profit redounded to her emperor, whether she received amended institutions, or enlarged territories. He represented, as he boasted, the People as well as the Sovereign of France; he engrossed in his own person her immunities, her greatness, her glory, and was bound to conduct himself so as to exalt at the same time the emperor and the empire. Still, however, the sovereign and the state might be, and at length actually were, separated; and the egotistical character of Buonaparte could, after that separation, find amusement and interest in the petty scale of Elba, to which his exertions were then limited.[289] Like the magic tent in the Arabian Tales, his faculties could expand to enclose half a world, with all its cares and destinies, or could accommodate themselves to the concerns of a petty rock in the Mediterranean, and his own conveniences when he retreated to its precincts. We believe that while France acknowledged Napoleon as emperor, he would cheerfully have laid down his life for her benefit; but we greatly doubt, if, by merely raising his finger, he could have made her happy under the Bourbons, whether (unless the merit of the action had redounded to his own personal fame) that finger would have been lifted. In a word, his feelings of self-interest were the central point of a circle, the circumference of which may be extended or contracted at pleasure, but the centre itself remains fixed and unchanged.

It is needless to inquire how far this solicitous, and we must add, enlightened attention to his own interest, facilitated Buonaparte's ascent to the supreme power. We daily witness individuals, possessed of a very moderate proportion of parts, who, by intently applying themselves to the prosecution of some particular object, without being drawn aside by the calls of pleasure, the seductions of indolence, or other interruptions, succeed ultimately in attaining the object of their wishes. When, therefore, we conceive the powerful mind of Napoleon, animated by an unbounded vivacity of imagination, and an unconquerable tenacity of purpose, moving forward, without deviation or repose, to the accomplishment of its purpose, which was nothing less than to acquire the dominion of the whole world, we cannot be surprised at the immense height to which he raised himself.

But the egotism which governed his actions,--subject always to the exercise of his excellent sense, and the cultivation of his interest in the public opinion--if in a great measure it favoured the success of his various enterprises, did him in the end much more evil than good; as it instigated his most desperate enterprises, and was the source of his most inexcusable actions.

Moderate politicians will agree, that after the imperial system was substituted for the republican, the chief magistrate ought to have assumed and exerted a considerable strength of authority, in order to maintain that re-establishment of civil order, that protection of the existing state of things, which was necessary to terminate the wild and changeful recurrence of perpetual revolutions. Had Napoleon stopped here, his conduct would have been unblameable and unblamed, unless by the more devoted followers of the House of Bourbon, against whom Providence appeared to most men to have closed the gate of restoration. But his principles of egotism would not be satisfied until he had totally destroyed every vestige of those free institutions which had been acquired by the perils, the blood, the tears of the Revolution, and reduced France, save for the influence of public opinion, to the condition of Constantinople, or of Algiers. If it was a merit to raise up the throne, it was natural that he who did so should himself occupy it; since in ceding it to the Bourbons he must have betrayed those at whose hands he accepted power; but to plunder the nation of their privileges as free-born men, was the act of a parricide. The nation lost, under his successive encroachments, what liberty the ancient government had left them, and all those rights which had been acquired by the Revolution. Political franchises, individual interests, the property of municipalities, the progress of education, of science, of mind and sentiment, all were usurped by the government. France was one immense army, under the absolute authority of a military commander, subject to no control nor responsibility. In that nation so lately agitated by the nightly assembly of thousands of political clubs, no class of citizens under any supposable circumstances, had the right of uniting in the expression of their opinions. Neither in the manners nor in the laws, did there remain any popular means of resisting the errors or abuses of the administration. France resembled the political carcass of Constantinople, without the insubordination of the Pachas, the underhand resistance of the Ulemas, and the frequent and clamorous mutinies of the Janizaries.[290]

Whilst Napoleon destroyed successively every barrier of public liberty--while he built new state prisons, and established a high police, which filled France with spies and jailors--while he took the charge of the press so exclusively into his own hand--his policy at once, and his egotism, led him to undertake those immense public works, of greater or less utility or ornament as the chance might be, but which were sure to be set down as monuments of the Emperor's splendour. The name given him by the working classes, of the General Undertaker, was by no means ill bestowed; but in what an incalculably greater degree do such works succeed, when raised by the skill and industry of those who propose to improve their capital by the adventure, than when double the expense is employed at the arbitrary will of a despotic sovereign! Yet it had been well if bridges, roads, harbours, and public works, had been the only compensation which Napoleon offered to the people of France for the liberties he took from them. But he poured out to them, and shared with them, to drown all painful and degrading recollections, the intoxicating and fatal draught of military glory and universal domination. To lay the whole universe prostrate at the foot of France, while France, the nation of Camps, should herself have no higher rank than the first of her own Emperor's slaves, was the gigantic project, at which he laboured with such tenacious assiduity. It was the Sisyphæan stone which he rolled so high up the hill, that at length he was crushed under its precipitate recoil.

The main objects of that immense enterprise were such as had been undertaken while his spirit of ambition was at its height; and no one dared, even in his councils, to interfere with the resolutions which he adopted. Had these been less eminently successful, it is possible he might have paused, and perhaps might have preferred the tranquil pursuit of a course which might have rendered one kingdom free and happy, to the subjugation of all Europe. But Napoleon's career of constant and uninterrupted success under the most disadvantageous circumstances, together with his implied belief in his Destiny, conspired, with the extravagant sense of his own importance, to impress him with an idea that he was not "in the roll of common men,"[291] and induced him to venture on the most desperate undertakings, as if animated less by the result of reason than by an internal assurance of success. After great miscarriages, he is said sometimes to have shown a corresponding depression; and thence he resigned four times the charge of his army when he found his situation embarrassing, as if no longer feeling confidence in his own mind, or conceiving he was deserted for the moment by his guardian genius. There were similar alternations, too, according to General Gourgaud's account, in his conversation. At times, he would speak like a deity,[292] at others, in the style of a very ordinary person.

To the egotism of Napoleon, we may also trace the general train of deception which marked his public policy, and, when speaking upon subjects in which his own character was implicated, his private conversation.

In his public capacity, he had so completely prostituted the liberty of the press, that France could know nothing whatever but through Napoleon's own bulletins. The battle of Trafalgar was not hinted at till several months after it had been fought, and then it was totally misrepresented; and so deep and dark was the mantle which covered the events in which the people were most interested, that, on the very evening when the battle of Montmartre was fought, the _Moniteur_, the chief organ of public intelligence, was occupied in a commentary on _nosographie_, and a criticism on a drama on the subject of the chaste Susannah.[293] The hiding the truth is only one step to the invention of falsehood, and, as a periodical publisher of news, Napoleon became so eminent for both, that, to "lie like a bulletin," became an adopted expression, not likely soon to lose ground in the French language, and the more disgraceful to Napoleon, that he is well known to have written those official documents in most instances himself.

Even this deceptive system, this plan of alternately keeping the nation in ignorance, or abusing it by falsehood, intimated a sense of respect for public opinion. Men love darkness, because their deeds are evil. Napoleon dared not have submitted to the public an undisguised statement of his perfidious and treacherous attacks upon Spain, than which a more gross breach of general good faith and existing treaties could scarce have been conceived. Nor would he have chosen to plead at the public bar, the policy of his continental system, adopted in total ignorance of the maxims of political economy, and the consequences of which were, first, to cause general distress, and then to encourage universal resistance against the French yoke throughout the whole continent of Europe. Nor is it more likely that, could the public have had the power of forming a previous judgment upon the probable event of the Russian campaign, that rash enterprise would ever have had an existence. In silencing the voice of the wise and good, the able and patriotic, and communicating only with such counsellors as were the echoes of his own inclinations, Napoleon, like Lear,

"Kill'd his physician, and the fee bestow'd Upon the foul disease."

This was the more injurious, as Napoleon's knowledge of the politics, interests, and character of foreign courts was, excepting in the case of Italy, exceedingly imperfect. The peace of Amiens might have remained uninterrupted, and the essential good understanding betwixt France and Sweden need never have been broken, if Napoleon could, or would, have understood the free constitution of England, which permits every man to print or publish what he may choose; or if he could have been convinced that the institutions of Sweden did not permit their government to place their fleets and armies at the disposal of a foreign power, or to sink the ancient kingdom of the Goths into a secondary and vassal government.

Self-love, so sensitive as that of Napoleon, shunned especially the touch of ridicule. The gibes of the English papers, the caricatures of the London print-shops, were the petty stings which instigated, in a great measure, the breach of the peace of Amiens. The laughter-loving Frenchmen were interdicted the use of satire, which, all-licensed during the times of the republic, had, even under the monarchy, been only punished with a short and easy confinement in the Bastile. During the time of the consulate, Napoleon was informed that a comic opera, something on the plan of the English farce of _High Life Below Stairs_, had been composed by Monsieur Dupaty, and brought forward on the stage, and that, in this audacious performance, three valets mimicked the manners, and even the dress of the three Consuls, and especially his own. He ordered that the actors should be exposed at the Grève, in the dresses they had dared to assume, which should be there stripped from their backs by the executioner; and he commanded that the author should be sent to St. Domingo, and placed, as a person under requisition, at the disposal of the commander-in-chief. The sentence was not executed, for the offence had not existed, at least to the extent alleged;[294] but the intention shows Napoleon's ideas of the liberty of the stage, and intimates what would have been the fate of the author of the _Beggar's Opera_, had he written for the French Opera Comique.

But no light, which reason or information could supply, was able to guide the intensity of a selfish ambition, which made Napoleon desire that the whole administration of the whole world should not only remotely, but even directly and immediately, depend on his own pleasure. When he distributed kingdoms to his brothers, it was under the express understanding that they were to follow in every thing the course of politics which he should dictate; and after all, he seemed only to create dependent states for the purpose of resuming them. The oppressions, which, in the name of France, he imposed upon Holland, were the direct, and, in all probability, the calculated means of dethroning his brother Louis; and he had thoughts of removing Joseph from Spain, when he saw of what a fair and goodly realm he had pronounced him king. In his wild and insatiable extravagance of administering in person the government of every realm which he conquered, he brought his powerful mind to the level of that of the spoiled child, who will not be satisfied without holding in its own hand whatever has caught its eye. The system, grounded on ambition so inordinate, carried with it in its excess the principles of its own ruin. The runner who will never stop for repose must at last fall down with fatigue. Had Napoleon succeeded both in Spain and Russia, he would not have rested, until he had found elsewhere the disasters of Baylen and of Moscow.

The consequences of the unjustifiable aggressions of the French Emperor were an unlimited extent of slaughter, fire, and human misery, all arising from the ambition of one man, who, never giving the least sign of having repented the unbounded mischief, seemed, on the contrary, to justify and take pride in the ravage which he had occasioned. This ambition, equally insatiable and incurable, justified Europe in securing his person, as if it had been that of a lunatic, whose misguided rage was not directed against an individual, but against the civilized world; which, wellnigh overcome by him, and escaping with difficulty, had a natural right to be guaranteed against repetition of the frantic exploits of a being who seemed guided by more than human passion, and capable of employing in execution of his purpose more than human strength.

The same egotism, the same spirit of self-deception, which marked Napoleon during his long and awful career of success, followed him into adversity. He framed apologies for the use of his little company of followers, as he had formerly manufactured bulletins for the Great Nation. Those to whom these excuses were addressed, Las Cases and the other gentlemen of Napoleon's suite, being too much devoted to him, and too generous to dispute, after his fall, doctrines which it would have been dangerous to controvert during his power, received whatever he said as truths delivered by a prophet, and set down doubtless to the score of inspiration what could by no effort be reconciled to truth. The horrid evils which afflicted Europe during the years of his success, were represented to others, and perhaps to his own mind, as consequences which the Emperor neither wished nor contemplated, but which were necessarily and unalterably attached to the execution of the great plans which the Man of Destiny had been called upon earth to perform, resembling in so far the lurid and fear-inspiring train pursuing the rapid course of a brilliant comet, which the laws of the universe have projected through the pathless firmament.

Some crimes he committed of a different character, which seem to have sprung, not like the general evils of war, from the execution of great and calculated plans of a political or military kind, but must have had their source in a temper naturally passionate and vindictive. The Duc d'Enghien's murder was at the head of this list; a gratuitous act of treachery and cruelty, which, being undeniable, led Napoleon to be believed capable of other crimes of a secret and bloody character--of the murder of Pichegru and of Wright--of the spiriting away of Mr. Windham, who was never afterwards heard of--and of other actions of similar atrocity. We pause before charging him with any of those which have not been distinctly proved. For while it is certain that he had a love of personal vengeance--proper, it is said, to his country--it is equally evident, that, vehement by temperament, he was lenient and calm by policy; and that, if he had indulged the former disposition, the security with which he might have done so, together with the ready agency of his fatal police, would have made his rage resemble that of one of the Roman emperors. He was made sensible, too late, of the general odium drawn upon him by the murder of the Duc d'Enghien, and does not seem to have been disposed to incur farther risks of popular hatred in prosecution of his individual resentment. The records of his police, however, and the persecutions experienced by those whom Napoleon considered as his personal enemies, show that, by starts at least, nature resumed her bent, and that he, upon whom there was no restraint, save his respect for public opinion, gave way occasionally to the temptation of avenging his private injuries. He remarked it as a weakness in the character of his favourite Cæsar, that he suffered his enemies to remain in possession of the power to injure him; and Antommarchi, the reporter of the observation, admitted, that when he looked on the person before him, he could not but acknowledge that _he_ was unlikely to fall into such an error.[295]

When Napoleon laid aside reserve, and spoke what were probably his true sentiments, he endeavoured to justify those acts of his government which transgressed the rules of justice and morality, by political necessity, and reasons of state; or, in other words, by the pressure of his own interest. This, however, was a plea, the full benefit of which he reserved to vindicate his own actions, never permitting it to be used by any other sovereign. He considered _himself_ privileged in transgressing the law of nations, when his interests required it; but pleaded as warmly upon the validity of public law, when alleging it had been infringed by other states, as if he himself had in all instances respected its doctrines as inviolable.

But although Napoleon thus at times referred to state necessity as the ultimate source of actions otherwise unjustifiable, he more frequently endeavoured to disguise his errors by denial, or excuse them by apologies which had no foundation. He avers in his Will,[296] that by the confession of the Duc d'Enghien, the Comte d'Artois maintained sixty assassins against his life;[297] and that for this reason the Duc d'Enghien was tried, convicted, and put to death. The examination of the duke bears no such confession, but, on the contrary, an express denial of the whole of the alleged system; nor was there the slightest attempt made to contradict him by other testimony. He bequeathed, in like manner, a legacy to a villain[298] who had attempted the assassination of the Duke of Wellington; the assassin, according to his strange argument, having as good a right to kill his rival and victor, as the English had to detain him prisoner at St. Helena. This clause in the last will of a dying man, is not striking from its atrocity merely, but from the inaccuracy of the moral reasoning which it exhibits. Napoleon has drawn a parallel betwixt two cases, which must be therefore both right or both wrong. If both were wrong, why reward the ruffian with a legacy? but if both were right, why complain of the British Government for detaining him at St. Helena?

But, indeed, the whole character of Napoleon's autobiography marks his desire to divide mankind into two classes--his friends and his enemies;--the former of whom are to be praised and vindicated; the latter to be vilified, censured, and condemned, without any regard to truth, justice, or consistency. To take a gross example, he stoutly affirmed, that the treasures which were removed from Paris in April 1814, and carried to Orleans, were seized and divided by the ministers of the allied powers--Talleyrand, Metternich, Hardenberg, and Castlereagh; and that the money thus seized included the marriage-portion of the Empress Maria Louisa.[299] Had this story been true, it would have presented Napoleon with a very simple means of avenging himself upon Lord Castlereagh, by putting the British public in possession of the secret.

It is no less remarkable, that Napoleon, though himself a soldier, and a distinguished one, could never allow a tribute of candid praise to the troops and generals by whom he was successively opposed. In mentioning his victories, he frequently bestows commendation upon the valour and conduct of the vanquished. This was an additional and more delicate mode of praising himself and his own troops by whom these enemies were overthrown. But he never allows any merit to those by whom he was defeated in turn. He professes never to have seen the Prussian troops behave well save at Jena, or the Russians save at Austerlitz. Those armies of the same nations, which he both saw and felt in the campaigns of 1812 and 1813, and before whom he made such disastrous retreats as those of Moscow and Leipsic, were, according to his expressions, mere _canaille_.

In the same manner, when he details an action in which he triumphed, he is sure to boast, like the old Grecian (very justly perhaps,) that in this Fortune had no share; while his defeats are entirely and exclusively attributed to the rage of the elements, the combination of some most extraordinary and unexpected circumstances, the failure of some of his lieutenants or maréchals, or, finally, the obstinacy of the general opposed, who, by mere dint of stupidity, blundered into success through circumstances which should have ensured his ruin.

In a word, from one end of Napoleon's works to the other, he has scarcely allowed himself to be guilty of a single fault or a single folly, excepting of that kind, which, arising from an over confidence and generosity, men secretly claim as merits, while they affect to give them up as matters of censure. If we credit his own word, we must believe him to have been a faultless and impeccable being. If we do not, we must set him down as one that, where his own reputation was concerned, told his story with a total disregard to candour and truth.

Perhaps it was a consequence of the same indifference to truth, which induced Napoleon to receive into his favour those French officers who broke their parole by escape from England. This, he alleged, he did, by way of retaliation, the British Government having, as he pretended, followed a similar line of conduct. The defence is false, in point of fact; but if it were true, it forms no apology for a sovereign and a general countenancing a breach of honour in a gentleman and a soldier. The French officers who liberated themselves by such means, were not the less dishonoured men, and unfit to bear command in the army of France, though they could have pointed with truth to similar examples of infamy in England.

But the most extraordinary instance of Napoleon's deceptive system, and of his determination, at all events, to place himself under the most favourable light to the beholders, is his attempt to represent himself as the friend and protector of liberal and free principles. He had destroyed every vestige of liberty in France--he had persecuted as ideologists all who cherished its memory--he had boasted himself the restorer of monarchical government--the war between the Constitutionalists and him, covered, after the return from Elba, by a hollow truce, had been renewed, and the Liberalists had expelled him from the capital--he had left in his Testament, the appellation of _traitor_ with La Fayette, one of their earliest, most devoted, and most sincere chiefs--yet, notwithstanding all this constant opposition to the party which professes most to be guided by them, he has ventured to represent himself as a friend of liberal ideas! He has done so, and he has been believed.

There is but one explanation of this. The friends of revolution are upon principle the enemies of ancient and established governments--Napoleon became the opponent of the established powers from circumstances; not because he disputed the character of their government, but because they would not admit him into their circle; and though there was not, and could not be, any real connexion betwixt his system and that of the Liberalists, yet both had the same opponents, and each loved in the other the enemy of their enemies. It was the business of Napoleon in his latter days, to procure, if professions could gain it, the sympathy and good opinion of any or every class of politicians; while, on the contrary, it could not be indifferent to those to whom he made advances, to number among their disciples, even in the twelfth hour, the name of Napoleon. It resembled what sometimes happens in the Catholic Church, when a wealthy and powerful sinner on his death-bed receives the absolution of the Church on easy terms, and dies after a life spent in licentious courses, wrapt up in the mantle, and girded with the cord, of some order of unusual strictness. Napoleon, living a despot and a conqueror, has had his memory consecrated and held up to admiration by men, who term themselves emphatically the friends of freedom.

The faults of Buonaparte, we conclude as we commenced, were rather those of the sovereign and politician, than of the individual. Wisely is it written, that "if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us." It was the inordinate force of ambition which made him the scourge of Europe; it was his efforts to disguise that selfish principle, that made him combine fraud with force, and establish a regular system for deceiving those whom he could not subdue. Had his natural disposition been coldly cruel, like that of Octavius, or had he given way to the warmth of his temper, like other despots, his private history, as well as that of his campaigns, must have been written in letters of blood. If, instead of asserting that he never committed a crime, he had limited his self-eulogy to asserting, that in attaining and wielding supreme power, he had resisted the temptation to commit many, he could not have been contradicted. And this is no small praise.

His system of government was false in the extreme. It comprehended the slavery of France, and aimed at the subjugation of the world. But to the former he did much to requite them for the jewel of which he robbed them. He gave them a regular government, schools, institutions, courts of justice, and a code of laws. In Italy, his rule was equally splendid and beneficial. The good effects which arose to other countries from his reign and character, begin also to be felt, though unquestionably they are not of the kind which he intended to produce. His invasions, tending to reconcile the discords which existed in many states between the governors and governed, by teaching them to unite together against a common enemy, have gone far to loosen the feudal yoke, to enlighten the mind both of prince and people, and have led to many admirable results, which will not be the less durably advantageous, that they have arisen, are arising slowly, and without contest.

In closing the Life of NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE, we are called upon to observe, that he was a man tried in the two extremities, of the most exalted power and the most ineffable calamity, and if he occasionally appeared presumptuous when supported by the armed force of half a world, or unreasonably querulous when imprisoned within the narrow limits of St. Helena, it is scarce within the capacity of those whose steps have never led them beyond the middle path of life, to estimate either the strength of the temptations to which he yielded, or the force of mind which he opposed to those which he was able to resist.

FOOTNOTES:

[262] "See Dr. Baillie's inestimable book on Morbid Anatomy, pp. 141, 142."--S.

[263] See, for a detailed account of the establishment at Longwood, APPENDIX, No. V.

[264] Las Cases, tom. iii., p. 359.

[265] Las Cases, tom. iv., p. 281.

[266] See Parl. Debates, vol. xxxv., p. 1137.

[267] Voice, &c., vol. ii., p. 256.

[268] The letter alluded to is quoted at full length in the Quarterly Review, vol. xxviii., p. 224 to p. 226. It was received after Dr. O'Meara's dismission; which therefore, must have been occasioned only by the suspicion of what was afterwards proved.--S.

[269] "As member of the College of the Propaganda, he could not go alone. Missions in which the line is to be crossed, must be composed of at least two missionaries; and the Abbé Vignali, who had some notions of medicine, was attached to Bonavita. Princess Pauline gave her cook; Madame Mère one of her valets; and thus a little colony was formed."--_Antommarchi_, vol. i., p. 9.

[270] Mémoire sur le Consulat, 1799 et 1804.--S.

[271] Antommarchi, vol. ii., p. 71.

[272] Such at least was the report. The attempt was to have been made by Johnstone and his desperate associates in a boat, which they were to row across the Scheldt towards Flushing, just when Napoleon was proceeding thither. They were to board the imperial barge, throw every one save Napoleon into the sea, and, removing him to their own light row-boat, were to pull out and deliver him up to the British squadron, then cruizing off the island. It is added, that Napoleon took the alarm from seeing a boat rowing very swiftly towards him, and, ordering his crew to pull harder, or give way, as it is called, the smuggler, instead of running athwart the barge, fell astern, and the opportunity was lost. We do not know that there is any good authority for this story.--S.

[273] Parl. Debates, vol. xl., p. 1559.

[274] Despatches to Sir Hudson Lowe, 30th September 1820.--S

[275] Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 339.

[276] Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 363.

[277]

"'Twas ever thus--from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay; I never loved a tree or flower, But was the first to fade away."

[278] Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 371.

[279] "He repeated the attempt three or four times, and with as little success. 'I now see,' said he, with a tone of affliction, 'that my strength forsakes me. Nature no longer answers, as formerly, to the appeals of my will; violent shocks are no longer suited to my debilitated frame: but I shall attain the end I propose by moderate exercise.' On the following day, the Emperor was labouring under profound depression of spirits;--he still felt persuaded that exercise would save him. 'Sire,' said Montholon, 'perhaps the see-saw would do your Majesty good?'--'True, I will try: have one arranged.' This was immediately done; but this motion produced no favourable effect, and he gave it up."--ANTOMMARCHI, vol. i., p. 393.

[280] Dr. Shortt, physician to the forces; who, at this time, replaced Dr. Baxter as principal medical officer at St. Helena, and to whom we have been obliged for much valuable information.--S.

[281] Antommarchi, vol. ii., p. 59.

[282] "I seized a moment, when the Emperor was more tranquil, to hazard a few words about the necessity of a consultation.--'A consultation! what would be the use of it? You all work in the dark. No! I will have none of them.' The Emperor was warm, and I therefore did not insist for the moment, but waited until he was more calm, when I again pressed the subject. 'You persist,' said he, with a tone of kindness, 'consult with the physician of the island that you consider the most skilful. I accordingly applied to Dr. Arnott."--ANTOMMARCHI, vol. ii., p. 59.

[283] Antommarchi, vol. ii., p. 65.

[284] Madame Bertrand mentioned to Dr. Shortt that Napoleon conceived himself dying of cancer in the stomach, which she considered as a mere whim.--S.

[285] Antommarchi, vol. ii., p. 120.

[286] When at St. Helena, he was much troubled with toothache and scurvy in the gums.--S.

[287] Las Cases, tom. i., part ii., p. 5.

[288] See APPENDIX, No. VI.

[289] See _ante_, p. 57.

[290] Histoire de la Guerre de la Péninsule, par Le Général Foy.--S.

[291] "And all the courses of my life do show, I am not in the roll of common men."--_Henry IV._, act iii., sc. 2.

[292] "For _deity_, read _great man_, and Gourgaud's account is perfectly correct."--JOSEPH BUONAPARTE, _Erreurs de Bourrienne_, tom. i., p. 233.

[293] Memorable Events at Paris, p. 93.

[294] Thibaudaud, Mémoires sur le Consulat, p. 148.--S.

[295] Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 249.

[296] See APPENDIX, No. VII.

[297] The precise words of the Will seem to bear, that it was the _Comte d'Artois'_ confession which established this charge. But no such confession was ever made; neither, if made, could it have been known to Napoleon at the time of the trial; nor, if known, could it have constituted evidence against the party accused, who was no accessary to the fact alleged. The assertion is utterly false in either case, but under the latter interpretation, it is also irrelevant. The Duc d'Enghien might be affected by his own confession, certainly not by that of his kinsman.--S.

[298] Cantillon. See Fourth Codicil to Will, Appendix, No. VII.

[299] See Dr. O'Meara's Voice from St. Helena, who seems himself to have been startled at the enormity of the fiction. What makes it yet more extravagant is, that Napoleon's Will disposes of a part of that very treasure, as if it were still in the hands of Maria Louisa.--S.

APPENDIX.

No. I.

REMARKS ON THE CAMPAIGN OF 1815,

BY CAPTAIN JOHN W. PRINGLE, OF THE ROYAL ENGINEERS.

[See pp. 185, 186.]

The following observations were hastily made, at a time when much public interest was excited by the various accounts of the campaign of 1815, edited by several individuals, all claiming the peculiar distinction of having been dictated by Napoleon, or written under his immediate direction. With some slight exceptions, and occasional anecdotes, they nearly correspond, as far as relates to the military details.[300] The 9th volume of the Memoirs of Napoleon, published by O'Meara, is perhaps the original from which the greatest part of the other productions are derived. It is now generally acknowledged to have been, to a certain extent, composed by Buonaparte.

These works have had one particular object--the defence of an unfortunate and great man. The individual, however, is always held up to view; the actions are softened or strengthened to suit this purpose, and in the extension of this design, the reputation of his own officers, and a strict adherence to facts, are occasionally sacrificed. The military features of the campaign have remained unanswered; whilst the wounded honour and fame of his generals have called for some counter-statements, which throw curious light on the whole campaign, and on the machinery of a system which so long alarmed the world. These last are little known in Britain.

Whoever has perused the mass of military works by French officers, most of them ably written, and many artfully composed, must feel how much they tend to encourage a peculiar feeling of national superiority in young minds, in a country where only their own military works are read. In these works they never find a French army beaten in the field, without some plausible reason; or, as Las Cases terms it [vol. ii., p. 15,] "a concurrence of unheard-of fatalities," to account for it. Upon the minds of young soldiers, this has an effect of the most powerful description.

Great care appears to have been taken in these various works, to meet the accusations of military men respecting the disposition and employment of the French army. Where a fault is admitted, the error is at least transferred from Buonaparte to the incapacity or remissness of his generals. The talents and honour of the British commanders are rated at a low state; their success attributed more to chance than to military skill, and the important result of the battle, less to the courage of the British troops, than to the opportune arrival of the Prussians, whom they allege to have saved the British army from destruction. What are now termed liberal ideas, seem to have made it a fashion to assert, and give credence to these accounts; and it is no uncommon occurrence to meet with Englishmen who doubt the glory and success of their countrymen on that eventful day. A wounded spirit of faction has contributed to this feeling, and in the indulgence of its own gratification, and under the mask of patriotism, endeavoured to throw a doubt over the military achievements of our countrymen, eagerly laid hold of any faults or failures, palliating, at the same time, those of their enemies, and often giving that implicit belief to the garbled accounts of the French, which they deny to the simple and manly dispatch of a British general.

There does appear in this a decay of that national feeling, and jealousy of our country's honour, the mainspring of all great actions, which other nations, our rivals, cling to with renewed ardour. No man could persuade a Frenchman that it was British valour which has conquered in almost every battle from Cressy, down to Waterloo; and it is impossible to forget that national pride, so honourable to the French name, which could make their unfortunate emigrants even forget for a while their own distresses, in the glory which crowned the arms of the Republicans at that Revolution which drove them from their homes.

The British works on the campaign, with one exception [Batty,] are incomplete productions, written by persons unacquainted with military affairs, and hastily composed of rude materials, collected from imperfect sources.[301]

Whoever has endeavoured to analyse the accounts of modern actions, and to separate in them what can be proved to be facts, from what is affirmed to be so, or to compare the private accounts (too often indiscreetly published) with the official documents, and the information procured from proper sources, will not be surprised to find in these home-made accounts of this campaign, fulsome praises lavished on individuals and regiments;[302] tales of charges, which one would imagine must have annihilated whole corps, and yet find not more than fifty or sixty men killed and wounded in a whole regiment.[303]

Our officers, whatever their corps may be, should be above the idea of vain boasting or exaggeration. It is much that we can claim, during a long period of eight years, the praise of having successfully contended with troops of the first military power in Europe; while our soldiers have disputed the palm of valour; and our officers, with less trumpeted claims than their boasted marshals, have shown as great military skill; and our armies, in the moment of victory, a spirit of humanity and moderation, not frequently evinced by their antagonists.

In the following observations, it is not pretended that any new matter can be given on a subject already so much discussed; still some facts and considerations are treated of, which have not been perhaps fully or fairly appreciated. Many charges of blame have been brought forward against the generals of the allied forces; and superior talent in profiting by their mistakes, has been attributed to their opponents, which might well be accounted for, as arising from the situations in which they were relatively placed. In order to judge, for instance, of the credit given to Napoleon, of having surprised their armies in their cantonments, it is necessary to be aware of the state of both countries (France and Belgium,) and the objects, besides the mere watching of the frontiers, to which the attention of the allied commanders was necessarily directed previous to the commencement of the war, and whilst it may be supposed as still in some measure doubtful.

France, as is well known, is, on the Belgian frontier, studded with fortresses; Belgium, on the contrary, is now defenceless. The numerous fortresses in the Low Countries, so celebrated in our former wars, had been dismantled in the reign of the Emperor Joseph; and their destruction completed by the French when they got possession of the country at the battle of Fleurus, 1794, with the exception of Antwerp, Ostend, and Nieuport, which they had kept up on account of their marine importance. These circumstances placed the two parties in very different situations, both for security and for facility of preparing and carrying into execution the measures either for attack or defence.

The French had maintained their own celebrated triple line of fortresses; extending, on that part of the frontier, from Dunkirk to Philipville, and which had been put into a state of defence during the war in the preceding year [Liv. ix., p. 36;]--these gave every facility for the concentration and formation of troops--for affording a supply of artillery, and every requisite for taking the field, and for concealing their movements--particularly from the French organisation of their national guards, which enabled the latter immediately to take the garrison duties, or relieve and occupy the outposts along the frontiers;--such was the relative situation of the frontiers at the period of Napoleon's return from Elba.

The necessity of re-establishing the principal fortresses on the Belgian frontier, which commanded the sluices and inundation of the country, had indeed already been evident; and decided upon whilst Napoleon was yet in Elba. A committee of British engineers had been employed in examining the country for that purpose, but only the general plans and reports had been prepared, when Buonaparte's sudden return and rapid advance upon Paris, and the probability of a speedy renewal of the war, called for expeditious and immediate means of defence. The declaration of the Congress of Vienna, of the 13th March, reached Paris on the same day he arrived there, which must have convinced him he would not be allowed quietly to repossess his throne.

It may be well supposed, that the general impression in Belgium was, that he would lose no time to endeavour to regain a country which he considered as almost part of France; important to him from the resources it would have afforded, and perhaps still more so, as it would deprive his enemies of so convenient a base of operations, for the preparation of the means for attacking France. The discontent in Belgium, and the Prussian provinces on the Rhine, also amongst the Saxon troops who had served in his army, was known.--[Liv. ix., pp. 58-61.]--The mutinous spirit of these troops appeared to be in concert with the movements of the French forces on the frontiers; so much so, that they were disarmed and sent to the rear.--[Muffling, p. 5.]--In the former, the discontent was particularly favoured by the number of French officers and soldiers, who had been discharged as aliens from the French army, in which they had served nearly since the Revolution, and now gave themselves little care to conceal their real sentiments and attachments. The flight of Louis from Lisle, through Flanders, added to this feeling in Belgium--such appeared to be the prevailing spirit. The force the British had to keep it in check, and resist an invasion, amounted only to 6000 or 7000 men, under the orders of Sir Thomas Graham, consisting chiefly of second battalions, hastily collected, a great portion of our best troops not having yet returned from America. There were also in Belgium the German Legion, together with 8000 to 10,000 men of the new Hanoverian levies. The organisation of the Belgian troops had been just commenced, so that the force of the Prince of Orange might amount to about 20,000 men.

The Prussian General Kleist, who commanded on the Rhine and Meuse, had 30,000 men, afterwards augmented to 50,000, which, however, included the Saxons.--[Muffling, pp. 1-5.]

These generals had immediately agreed to act in concert; but from what we have mentioned, had Napoleon concentrated 36,000 men at Lisle on the 1st April, which he says was possible for him to have done--[Montholon, vol. ii., p. 281; Liv. ix., p. 58]--and advanced into Belgium, it is certainly probable he might have obtained the most important results; for the Prince of Orange, who had united his troops at Ath, Mons, and Tournay, was not strong enough to have covered Brussels, and must have either fallen back on Antwerp, or formed a junction with the Prussian General Kleist. The intelligence of Napoleon having landed at Cannes on the 1st March, reached Brussels on the 9th. Preparations were immediately made for the defence of the country. The British troops under General Clinton concentrated, with their allies, near Ath, Mons, and Tournay; and these places, with Ypres, Ghent, and Oudenarde were ordered to be put in a state of defence consistently with the exigence of the moment. To effect this, every use was made of what remained of the old fortifications. New works were added, and advantage was taken of the great system of defence in that country, which is generally under the level of some canal, or the sea, and consequently capable of being inundated. The sluices which commanded the inundations were covered by strong redoubts.

The inundation of the country near the sea, admits of being made in two ways. The canals or rivers are drains for the fresh water of the country to the sea. The sluice gates are opened for its egress at low water, and shut to prevent the ingress of the salt water at the return of the tide. It is evident, therefore, that we could have laid the country under water, and so covered their fortresses on two or three sides, which would prevent the necessity of their having large garrisons to defend them.[304] But salt-water inundation ruins the soil for several years, and it was determined only to employ it as a last resource; and in the meantime the sluice-gates were merely kept shut to prevent the egress of the fresh water, which in that wet season soon accumulated; and the fresh water inundation only destroyed the crops of one season.

About 20,000 labourers, called in by requisitions on the country, were daily employed on the works, in addition to the working parties furnished by the troops. The necessary artillery and stores were supplied from England and Holland. Troops arrived daily, and were immediately moved to the frontiers, where, from the movements that were constantly taking place, it is probable that exaggerated accounts were transmitted to the enemy. By these vigorous and prompt measures, confidence became restored--the panic amongst the people of Belgium was removed--they saw that their country was not to be given up without a severe struggle--it fixed the wavering, and silenced the disaffected. In less than a month, most of the frontier places were safe from a coup-de-main.

The Duke of Wellington had arrived at Brussels from Vienna early in April, and immediately inspected the frontier and the fortresses; after which, he agreed on a plan of operations with the Prussians, by which they concentrated their troops along the Sambre and Meuse, occupying Charleroi, Namur, and Liege, so as to be in communication with his left. The Prussians had repaired the works round Cologne, which assured their communications with Prussia, and gave them a tête-du-pont on the Rhine. The small fortress of Juliers afforded them the command of the Roer on the same line, and they held Maestricht on the Lower Meuse. It was important to occupy Liege and Namur, though their fortifications had been destroyed. They afforded a facility to act rapidly on either side of the Meuse, and a choice of the strong positions along the banks of that river. The disaffection in the provinces on the Rhine, which had been recently added to Prussia, was considered even greater than in Belgium. The fortress of Luxembourg was the great key which Prussia possessed for their preservation; and her interest would have led her to make that her depôt and base of operations for the invasion of France; but besides being so far distant from Brussels, that armies occupying such distant points could not act in concert, the roads in that part of the country, between the Meuse and the Moselle, were in a state almost impracticable for artillery, and for the general communication of an army. On the other hand, the roads and communications to cross the Rhine at Cologne are good, the town itself could be put in a state of defence, and have become the best and safest line of communication. Reference to the map will elucidate these observations, and show that the cantonments of the Prussians, along the Sambre and Meuse, enabled them to act in concert with our army; to cover their line of communication with Prussia; and to move rapidly into the provinces of the Moselle, in the event of the enemy advancing from Metz.[305]

The Russians were to have come into the line at Mayence, but they did not reach the Rhine until June, and then only the first corps; so that, for the present, a gap existed from the Prussian left at Dinant, to the Austro-Bavarian right at Manheim.

It was an important object to cover Brussels; and it is to be considered, that this city forms, as it were, a centre to a large portion of the French frontier, extending about seventy miles from the Lys to the Meuse, viz. from Menin to Philipville or Givet; that it is about fifty miles distant from these extreme points; and that it was necessary to guard the entry from France by Tournay, Mons, and Charleroi; and also to prevent Ghent, a very important place, from being attacked from Lisle. The protection of all these distant points, with the difficulty of subsisting troops, particularly cavalry and artillery, are sufficient causes to explain why the armies were not more united in their cantonments.[306] Buonaparte appears to have attached much importance to the occupation of Brussels, as appears by the bulletins found ready printed in his baggage, which was captured. It was, therefore, of much importance, in every point of view, to prevent even a temporary occupation of this city, and this could only be done by risking an action in front of it. The Duke of Wellington and Marshal Blucher had also separate views in preserving their lines of operation--the one by Cologne with Prussia; the other with England, by Brussels, which neither was disposed willingly to abandon. This probably may have been the cause why Quatre-Bras and Ligny were chosen as positions covering both.

It is evident, that an army placed in cantonments, so as to meet all these objects, could only be concentrated in a position covering the city, by the troops in advance being able to keep the enemy in check, so as to afford time for that concentration, which was certainly accomplished. The positions on the different roads of approach from the French frontier had been attentively reconnoitred; that of Mont St. Jean, or Waterloo, very particularly; and no precaution appears to have been omitted, by which an offensive movement of the enemy was to be encountered.

Some movements were observed on the French frontier between Lisle and Berguer, as if preparing for offensive operations, about the end of March, at which period the troops, cantoned near Menin, had orders, after making due resistance, and destroying the bridge on the Lys, to fall back on Courtrai, their point of assembling; and then, after such a resistance as would not compromise their safety in retreat, to endeavour to ascertain the object of the enemy's movements, and give time for the troops to assemble. They were to retire on Oudenarde and Ghent, opening the sluices, and extending the inundation. About the beginning of May similar movements were also observed, but less was then to be apprehended, since, by the advanced state of the works at Tournay, the tête-du-pont at Oudenarde and Ghent, we then commanded the Scheldt, and could have assumed the offensive.

Great credit is undoubtedly due to Napoleon, for the mode in which he concealed his movements, and the rapidity with which he concentrated his army. The forced marches he was obliged to make, appear, however, to have paralysed his subsequent movements, from the fatigue his troops underwent. The numerous French fortresses favoured his plans in a very great degree, by affording him the means of employing the garrison and national guards to occupy the advanced posts along the frontier, and opportunity afterwards to make demonstrations across the frontiers near Lisle, whilst he assembled his army on the Sambre.--[Liv. ix., pp. 68-85; Montholon, vol. ii., p. 153.] They were also somewhat favoured by the circumstance, that hostilities were not actually commenced, which prevented our advanced posts (even if they suspected a change in the troops opposed to them) from obliging the enemy to show himself, or, by bringing on a skirmish, to obtain from prisoners intelligence of their movements. He had another advantage of powerful consequence. The army he commanded were mostly old soldiers of the same nation, under a single chief. The allied armies were composed of different nations, a great portion young levies, and under two generals, each of such reputation, as not likely to yield great deference to the other.[307]

On the night of the 14th June, the French army bivouacked in three divisions, as near the frontier as possible, without being observed by the Prussians; the left at Ham-sur-heure, the centre at Beaumont, where the headquarters were established, and the right at Philipville.[308]

At three o'clock, A.M., on the 15th June, the French army crossed the frontier in three columns, directed on Marchiennes, Charleroi, and Chatelet. The Prussian out-posts were quickly driven in; they, however, maintained their ground obstinately at three points, until eleven o'clock, when General Ziethen took up a position at Gilly and Gosselies, in order to check the advance of the enemy, and then retired slowly on Fleurus, agreeably to the orders of Maréchal Blucher, to allow time for the concentration of his army.[309] The bridge at Charleroi not having been completely destroyed, was quickly repaired by the enemy. Upon Ziethen's abandoning the chaussée, which leads to Brussels through Quatre-Bras, Marshal Ney, who commanded the left of the French army, was ordered to advance by this road upon Gosselies, and found at Frasnes part of the Duke of Wellington's army, composed of Nassau troops, under the command of Prince Bernard of Saxe Weimar, who, after some skirmishing, maintained his position.[310] The French army was formed, on the night of the 15th, in three columns, the left at Gosselies, the centre near Gilly, and the right at Chatelet. Two corps of the Prussian army occupied the position at Sombref on the same night, where they were joined by the first corps, and occupied St. Amand, Bry, and Ligny; so that, notwithstanding all the exertions of the French, at a moment where time was of such importance, they had only been able to advance about fifteen English miles during the day, with nearly fifteen hours of daylight.[311] The corps of Ziethen had suffered considerably, but he had effected his orders: so that Maréchal Blucher was enabled to assemble three corps of his army, 80,000 men, in position early on the 15th, and his fourth corps was on its march to join him that evening.

The Duke of Wellington seems to have expected an attack by the Mons chaussée,[312] and on his first receiving information of the enemy's movements, merely ordered his troops to hold themselves in readiness; this was on the evening of the 15th of June, at six o'clock. Having obtained farther intelligence about eleven o'clock, which confirmed the real attack of the enemy to be along the Sambre, orders were immediately given for the troops to march upon Quatre-Bras; a false movement of the English general to his right, at that period, could not have been easily remedied in time to have fought in front of Brussels, and to have effected his junction with the Prussians; and in such a case, as Maréchal Blucher only fought at Ligny on the expectation of being supported by the Duke of Wellington, it is probable that that action would not have taken place. He had, however, a safe retreat on Bulow's corps and Maestricht, as had the Duke of Wellington on Ghent and Antwerp, or else the plan afterwards adopted of concentrating at Waterloo and Wavres, could not have been easily executed. It is, indeed, a matter of surprise, that Buonaparte did not make a more important demonstration on the side of Lisle and Mons. The Duke, in deciding on these movements, was under the necessity of acting on the intelligence given by spies or deserters, which can only be so far depended on, as it is confirmed by reports from the outposts, who may be themselves deceived.[313] What was true at their departure, may be entirely changed at their arrival with the information; and whatever may have been the case formerly, few or no instances occur at present of a person in the confidence of the cabinet, particularly of a military officer, betraying the confidence placed in him.

The Duke of Wellington arrived at Quatre-Bras on the 16th, at an early hour, and immediately proceeded to Bry, to concert measures with Marshal Blucher, for arranging the most efficient plan of support. It appeared at that time, that the whole French attack would be directed against the Prussians, as considerable masses of the enemy were in movement in their front. Blucher was at this time at the wind-mill of Bry, about five English miles from Quatre-Bras. [Muffling, p. 10.] The Duke proposed to advance upon Frasnes and Gosselies, which would have been a decided movement, as acting on the French communications, and immediately in rear of their left flank; but as the troops could not be ready to advance from Quatre-Bras before four o'clock, the attack must have been too late, and in the meantime the Prussians would have to sustain the attack of nearly the whole French army. Maréchal Blucher, therefore, judged it more desirable, that the Duke should form a junction with the Prussian right, by marching direct by the chaussée from Quatre-Bras to Bry.[314]

The object of the enemy on the 16th, as may be seen by the general orders of Napoleon, communicated by Soult to Ney and Grouchy, was to turn the Prussian right, by driving the British from Quatre-Bras, and then to march down the chaussée upon the Bry, and thus separate the armies. [Batty, p. 150.] For this purpose, Ney was detached with 43,000 men. [Liv. ix., p. 103.] On reference to the above orders, it appears that not much resistance was expected in getting possession both of Sombref and Quatre-Bras.[315] Ney has been accused of delaying to attack, but reference to those orders will show that Ney had not been commanded to attack[316] until two o'clock P.M., in consequence of the allies having assembled in force at Quatre-Bras. The plan was excellent, and if Ney had been successful, would have led to important results. After obtaining possession of Quatre-Bras, he was to have detached part of his forces to attack the Prussian right flank in rear of St. Amand, whilst Buonaparte was making the chief attack on that village, the strongest in the position, and at the same time keeping the whole Prussian line engaged. Half of Ney's force was left in reserve near Frasnes, to be in readiness either to support the attacks on Quatre-Bras or St. Amand, and in the event of both succeeding, to turn the Prussian right, by marching direct on Wagnele or Bry.[317]

The village of St. Amand was well defended; it formed the strength of the Prussian right, and from the intersection of several gardens and hedges, was very capable of defence; although so much in advance of the rest of the Prussian position. The face of the country in front of this position possesses no remarkable features; the slopes towards the stream are gentle, and of easy access. After a continued attack for two hours, the enemy had only obtained possession of half the village of St. Amand, and a severe attack was made upon Ligny, which was taken and retaken several times.[318] At this time Buonaparte sent for the corps of reserve left by Ney at Frasnes; before, however, it reached St. Amand, in consequence of the check they had sustained at Quatre-Bras, it was countermarched, and from this circumstance became of little use either to Buonaparte or Ney. Buonaparte having observed the masses of troops which Blucher had brought up behind St. Amand (and probably in consequence of the corps above mentioned being necessary at Quatre-Bras,)[319] appears to have changed the disposition of his reserves, who were marching upon St. Amand, and moved them towards the right, to attack the Prussian centre at Ligny, which they succeeded in forcing, and so obtained possession of that village.[320] A large body of French cavalry, and another of infantry, then pushed forward to the height between Bry and Sombref, immediately in the rear of Ligny, and quite in the heart of the Prussian position, where they were attacked by Blucher at the head of his cavalry; this attempt to re-establish the action failed, and the Prussian cavalry were driven back upon the infantry.[321] It was now nine o'clock, about dark, which prevented the French from advancing farther, and they contented themselves with the occupation of Ligny. The Prussians did not evacuate Bry before three o'clock A.M. on the 17th.[322] In the course of the night, the Prussians fell back on Tilly and Gembloux. The loss of the Prussians, according to their own account, amounted to 14,000 men, and fifteen pieces of artillery. The French official account in the _Moniteur_ to 15,000.[323] The French acknowledge to have lost 7000. It is evident that Buonaparte, in changing the point of attack from the Prussian right at St. Amand, to the centre at Ligny, in a manner forced the Prussians, if defeated, to retreat upon the British army, and give up their own line of operations; but still, at that hour in the evening, when the situation of the armies is considered, the change of attack appears to be the only hope he had of obtaining even a partial success; under such circumstances, it was perhaps the best course he could pursue.[324]

It is not easy to conceive that a defeat, in any case, would have been such as to prevent their junction, since each army had such considerable reinforcements moving up, and close upon them; but even in an extreme case, they could each have retired on their fortresses, and formed intrenched camps of perfect security, with every means of repairing the losses they sustained.[325]

The force of the enemy, at the time the Duke of Wellington left Quatre-Bras to communicate with Blucher, appeared to be so weak, that no serious attack was at that time to be apprehended; but on his return to that position, about three o'clock, he found they had assembled a large force at Frasnes, and were preparing for an attack, which was made about half-past three o'clock by two columns of infantry, and nearly all their cavalry, supported by a heavy fire of artillery. The force at that time under his orders, was 17,000 infantry and 2000 cavalry, of which about 4500 were British infantry, the rest Hanoverians, and Belgians, and Nassau troops.[326] They at first obtained some success, driving back the Belgian and Brunswick cavalry; their cavalry penetrated amongst our infantry before they had quite time to form squares, and forced a part to retire into the adjoining wood; they were, however, repulsed. At this period of the action, the third British division, under General Alten, arrived about four o'clock, soon after the action had commenced. They consisted of about 6300 men, and were composed of British, King's German legion, and Hanoverians. They had some difficulty in maintaining their ground, and one regiment lost a colour.[327] They succeeded, however, in repelling the enemy from the advanced points he had gained at the farm of Gemincourt and village of Pierremont.

Ney still, however, occupied part of the wood of Bossu, which extends from Quatre-Bras, on the right of the road towards Frasnes, to the distance of about a mile. This favoured an attack on the right of our position, which he accordingly made, after having been repulsed on the left. At this moment the division of General Cooke [Guards,] 4000 strong, arrived from Enghien, and materially assisted to repel this attack, which, after considerable exertions, was done, and the enemy driven back upon Frasnes, in much confusion. This affair was severely contested, and though the enemy were repulsed, the loss on each side was nearly equal, owing to the superiority of the French in artillery. The loss, however, inflicted on the French by the fire of musketry, which their attacking columns were exposed to, was very considerable, and counterbalanced the advantage they derived from their artillery. It required great exertions to maintain the important post of Quatre-Bras, in the present relative situations of the two armies. It is certain that, if Ney had advanced as rapidly as Buonaparte says he might have done, he would have obtained his object. Ney, however, in his letter, contradicts the possibility of his having done so, which seems to be confirmed by Soult's letter to him, dated at 2 o'clock P.M., where he tells him, that Grouchy is to attack Bry with the 3d and 4th corps, at half-past 2 P.M. [Batty, App.]; that he is to attack the corps in his front, and afterwards to assist Grouchy; but that if he (Ney) defeats the troops in his front first, Grouchy would be ordered to assist his operations. It is most probable that the corps left at Frasnes, which Ney complains was taken away without his knowledge, was destined to assist either attack as might be found necessary.

Even had Ney got possession of Quatre-Bras at an early hour, he would scarcely have been able to detach any sufficient force against the Prussians, seeing, as he must have done, or at least ought to have calculated, that the British forces were arriving rapidly on the point which we suppose him to have occupied. The British could have still retreated on Waterloo, and been concentrated on the 17th at that position; and there was nothing to prevent the Prussians retreating on Wavre, as they afterwards did. Though Buonaparte says [Liv. ix., p. 209,] that on the 15th every thing had succeeded as he wished, and that the Duke of Wellington had manœuvred as he would have wished him to do; yet one corps of the Prussian army had so far kept him in check, that he was not able to reach Fleurus; and on the 16th, could not commence the attack until three hours after mid-day. He did not gain possession of Quatre-Bras until the forenoon of the 17th. He had sustained a severe check with one part of his army, and gained an indecisive action with the other; the loss of the allies not exceeding his own, whilst they had the advantage of retiring leisurely on their resources and reinforcements, and by the retreat, gave up no place or position now of consequence to the pursuing enemy. The result of the operations of the 16th produced no important consequences to the French. The celebrated engineer, General Rogniat, does not hesitate to term it an indecisive action. The success of the British in repelling the attack of Quatre-Bras, tended to make them meet the renewed attack at Waterloo with more confidence, and probably had a contrary effect on the enemy; whilst the manner in which the Prussian corps of Thielman received the attack of Grouchy on the 18th, who had superior forces, showed how little the confidence of the Prussians had been shaken by the action at Ligny. It may be observed, that the forces engaged at Ligny were nearly equal, even deducting D'Erlon's corps, which was left at Frasnes, as not engaged. The French passed the frontiers with about 125,000 men--Blucher had 80,000--and at _the close_ of the day, Lord Wellington had 30,000.[328] The commanders of the allied armies appear not to have overrated what was to be expected from their troops, which was not exactly the case with their opponents.

The outline of the operations, and the strategie on the part of Napoleon to separate the two armies, was no doubt finely conceived, and, as we have seen, was nearly successful; yet it is presumed, that, had it been so, even to the extent Buonaparte could hope or expect, the allies had still a safe retreat, and sufficient resources. On all sides, it was a calculation of hours. It is hardly possible to know the point an enterprising enemy means to attack, especially on so extended a line; and here the assailant has the advantage. Fault has been found with the Duke of Wellington for having no artillery and very few cavalry upon the 16th. No portion of either were with the reserve at Brussels, which is remarkable, particularly as regards the artillery.[329]

The spirited manner in which the allied maréchals adhered to their plans of defence previously agreed on, and extricated themselves from the difficulties which they found themselves placed in, by the sudden and vigorous attack they had to sustain, and which their distinct commands tended rather to increase, must command admiration; and since war is only a great game, where the movements are influenced by many events which occur during their execution and progress--events which human calculation cannot foresee--it becomes easy to criticise when the operations are passed, when all the data on which they rested, or might have rested, are known; but to form a good plan of attack, or a campaign--to act with decision and firmness, and with a "coup d'œil," so as immediately to profit by the changes which incessantly take place, can be said of very few men of the many who have ever arrived at the command of an army.

On the morning of the 17th, the British troops remained in possession of Quatre-Bras, where the rest of the army had joined the Duke of Wellington, who was prepared to maintain that position against the French army, had the Prussians remained in the position of Ligny, so as to give him support.

Maréchal Blucher had sent an aide-de-camp to inform the duke of his retreat, who was unfortunately killed; and it was not until seven o'clock on the 17th, that Lord Wellington learned the direction which the Prussians had taken. A patrol sent at daylight to communicate with the Prussians, advanced beyond Bry and Sombref, which confirmed how little of the Prussian position had been occupied by the French. The Prussians had fallen back very leisurely on Wavre, their rear-guard occupying Bry, which they did not evacuate before three o'clock on the morning of the 17th. Buonaparte, in deceiving the French people, by the accounts he gave of the defeat of the Prussians at Ligny, seems almost to have deceived himself. He must have known that the action was not a decisive one--that the enemy had retired in excellent order--that he had not been able to pursue them--and that his own loss must have considerably weakened his army, whilst the Prussians were falling back upon their reinforcements--and, above all, that Maréchal Blucher commanded them. The Prussian army was concentrated at Wavre at an early hour, and communication took place between the Duke of Wellington and Blucher, by which a junction of the army was arranged for the succeeding day at Waterloo.[330] The retrograde movement of the Prussians rendered a corresponding one necessary on the part of the British, which was performed in the most leisurely manner, the duke allowing the men time to finish their cooking. About ten o'clock, the whole army retired, in three columns, by Genappe and Nivelles, towards a position at Waterloo--a rear-guard was left to occupy the ground, so as to conceal the movement from the enemy, who, about mid-day, deployed their troops in columns of attack, as if expecting to find the English army in position there. They immediately followed up the retreat with cavalry and light-artillery. An affair of cavalry occurred at Genappe, where the 7th hussars attacked a French regiment of lancers without success; upon which the heavy cavalry were brought up by the Marquis of Anglesea, who checked the enemy's advance by a vigorous and decisive charge.

As the troops arrived in position in front of Mont Saint Jean, they took up the ground they were to maintain, which was effected early in the evening. The weather began to be very severe at this period. The whole French army, under Buonaparte, with the exception of two corps under Grouchy (32,000 men, and 108 guns,) took up a position immediately in front; and after some cannonading, both armies remained opposite to each other during the night, the rain falling in torrents. The duke had already communicated with Maréchal Blucher, who promised to come to his support with the whole of his army, on the morning of the 18th. It was consequently decided upon to cover Brussels (the preservation of which was of such importance, in every point of view, to the King of the Netherlands,) by maintaining the position of Mont St. Jean. The intention of the allied chiefs, if they were not attacked on the 18th, was to have attacked the enemy on the 19th.

Since we are now arrived at the position of Mont St. Jean, it may be necessary to offer a few remarks as regards the position itself, which has been considered as a bad one by some writers,[331] and some loose allusions to its defects thrown out; but more particularly fixing upon its not affording a secure retreat, in the event of the enemy's attack having proved successful. Previous, however, to entering into any disquisition as to the merits of the position of Mont St. Jean, it may be well to consider a few of the conditions that are judged essential in a greater or less degree, for every position taken up by an army. The first requisite is, that the ground in front, within cannon-shot, should be well seen; and every point of approach with musket-shot, well discovered.--2d, That the ground which is occupied should admit of a free communication for troops and guns, from right to left, and from front to rear, in order to move supports wherever they may be wanted; also that, by the sinuosities of the ground, or other cover, such movements may be made unseen by the enemy.--3d, That your flanks rest on some support, secure from being turned--And, lastly, that your retreat be ensured in the event of your position being forced or turned.

The site of the position of Mont St. Jean, and the features of the ground round it, have been so often and well described, that we may conclude it to be familiar to most people; and hence the possession of these necessary conditions will be already evident. The easy slope from our front into the valley, from whence it rises in an ascent equally gentle and regular, to the opposite heights, on which the enemy were posted at the distance of about a mile, or a mile and a half, gave it, in an eminent degree, the condition stated in the first remark. The two chaussées, running nearly perpendicular to our line--the valley immediately in rear of our first line, and parallel to it, with two country roads passing in the same direction; also the openness of the country--gave the position the requisites mentioned in the second. The same valley afforded cover for the support of the first line; also for its artillery, and spare ammunition-waggons; whilst the second line and reserves, placed on and behind the next ridge, and about 500 or 600 yards in rear of the first, were unseen from the enemy's position, although certainly so far exposed, that many of his shot and shells, which passed over the first line, ricocheted into the second, and amongst the reserves. The fourth requisite, as far as regards the security of the flanks, was completely obtained, by the occupation of the village of Braine la Leude on its right, which would have been intrenched, but for an accidental misunderstanding of orders; and La Haye and Ohain on the left; also by both flanks being thrown back on the forest of Soignies.

That our retreat in case of a reverse, was sufficiently provided for, we trust, notwithstanding the criticism above noticed, to establish in a satisfactory manner. Our position was sufficiently in advance of the entrance of the chaussée into the forest, to give a free approach from every part of the field to that point; which the unenclosed state of the country afforded the troops every means of profiting by. Had our first position been forced, the village of Mont St. Jean, at the junction of the two chaussées, afforded an excellent centre of support for a second, which the enemy would have had equal difficulty in carrying;--besides which there is another farm house and wood immediately behind Mont St. Jean, and in front of the entrance of the forest; which would have enabled us to keep open that entrance. By occupying these points, we might have at any time effected a retreat; and with sufficient leisure to have allowed all the guns, that were in a state to be moved, to file off into the forest. Undoubtedly, had our centre been broken by the last attack of the enemy [about half-past seven,] a considerable part of our artillery must have been left behind, a number of guns disabled, and many men and horses killed and wounded; these must have fallen into the enemy's hands; also the brigades at the points attacked, which were placed rather in front of the infantry, and remained until the last, firing grape-shot into the enemy's columns. The men and horses would have saved themselves with the infantry, and soon found a fresh equipment in the fortresses. The troops at Hougomont would have been cut off had that attack succeeded, but their retreat was open, either upon the corps of 16,000 men left at Halle to cover Brussels, or upon Braine la Leude, which was occupied by a brigade of infantry, who had strengthened their post; between which and our right flank a brigade of cavalry kept a communication open. From Braine la Leude there is a very good road through the forest by Alemberg to Brussels, by which the troops and artillery of our right flank could have effected their retreat. If we now suppose, that the enemy, instead of our right centre, had broken our left centre by the great attack made on it at three o'clock, Ohain afforded nearly the same advantage to the left of our army that Braine la Leude would have done on the right. A road leads from it through the forest to Brussels; or that wing might have retired on the Prussians at Wavre; so that, had either of these two grand attacks succeeded, the retreat into the defiles of the forest need not have been precipitated. It is no fault of our troops to take alarm and lose confidence, because they find themselves turned or partially beaten. Of this many instances might be given. The best proof, however, is, that the enemy can scarcely claim having made a few hundred prisoners during the whole of the last war. No success on the part of the enemy, which they had a right to calculate on, could have then precipitated us into the forest in total disorder. The attacks we sustained to the last on the 18th, were as determined and severe as can be conceived. Still, to the last, a part of the reserve and the cavalry had not suffered much; whereas the French cavalry (heavy) had all been engaged before five o'clock, and were not in a state, from the severe losses they had sustained, to take advantage of a victory.[332]

But suppose we had been driven into the wood in a state of deroute, similar to what the French were, the forest did not keep us hermetically sealed up, as an impenetrable marsh did the defeated troops at Austerlitz. The remains of our shattered battalions would have gained the forest, and found themselves in security. It consists of tall trees without underwood, passable almost any where for men and horses. The troops could, therefore, have gained the chaussée through it, and when we at last came to confine ourselves to the defence of the entrance to the forest, every person, the least experienced in war, knows the extreme difficulty in forcing infantry from a wood which cannot be turned. A few regiments, with or without artillery, would have kept the whole French army in check, even if they had been as fresh as the day they crossed the frontiers.[333] Indeed, the forest in our rear gave us so evident an advantage, that it is difficult to believe that an observation to the contrary was made by Napoleon. Could he quite forget his own retreat? It little availed him to have two fine chaussées, and an open country in his rear; his materiel was all abandoned, and not even a single battalion kept together.

The two farms in front of the position of Mont St. Jean, gave its principal strength. That of Hougomont, with its gardens and enclosures, could contain a force sufficient to make it a most important post. La Haye Sainte was too small for that purpose; otherwise its situation in the Genappe chaussée, in the centre of the position, rendered it better adapted for that purpose. These farms lay on the slope of the valley, about 1500 yards apart, in front of our line; so that no column of the enemy could pass between them, without being exposed to a flank fire. Indeed, without these posts, the ground gave us little advantage over our enemy, except the loss he must be necessarily exposed to in advancing in column upon a line already fixed.

From these observations it will appear that our retreat was well secured, and that the advantages of the position for a field of battle were very considerable; so that there was little risk but that it would have been successfully defended, even if the Prussians had by "some fatality" been prevented from forming a junction. The difficulties of the roads, from the severe rains, detained them from joining us at least double the time that was calculated upon. We had therefore to sustain the attack of a superior army so much longer; yet they were not able to make any impression. Every attack had been most successfully repulsed; and we may safely infer that, even if the Prussians had not joined in time, we would still have been able to maintain our position, and repulse the enemy, but might have been perhaps unable, as was the case at Talavera, to profit by this advantage, or to follow up our success.[334]

The morning of the 18th, and part of the forenoon, were passed by the enemy in a state of supineness, for which it was difficult to account. The rain had certainly retarded his movements, more particularly that of bringing his artillery into position; yet it was observed that this had been accomplished at an early hour. In Grouchy's publication, we find a reason which may have caused this delay; namely, that Napoleon's ammunition had been so much exhausted in the preceding actions, that there was only a sufficiency with the army for an action of eight hours. Buonaparte states [Liv. ix.] that it was necessary to wait until the ground was sufficiently dried, to enable the cavalry and artillery to manœuvre [Montholon, tom. ii., p. 136;] however, in such a soil, a few hours could make very little difference, particularly as a drizzling rain continued all the morning, and indeed after the action had commenced. The heavy fall of rain on the night of the 17th to 18th, was no doubt more disadvantageous to the enemy than to the troops under Lord Wellington; the latter were in position, and had few movements to make; whilst the enemy's columns, and particularly his cavalry, were much fatigued and impeded by the state of the ground, which, with the trampled corn, caused them to advance more slowly, and kept them longer under fire. On the other hand, the same causes delayed the Prussians in their junction, which they had promised to effect at eleven o'clock, and obliged Lord Wellington to maintain the position alone, nearly eight hours longer than had been calculated upon.

About twelve o'clock, the enemy commenced the action by an attack upon Hougomont, with several columns, preceded by numerous light troops, who, after severe skirmishing, drove the Nassau troops from the wood in its front, and established themselves in it. This attack was supported by the constant fire of a numerous artillery. A battalion of the Guards occupied the house and gardens, with the other enclosures, which afforded great facilities for defence; and after a severe contest, and immense loss, the enemy were repulsed, and a great part of the wood regained.[335]

During the early part of the day, the action was almost entirely confined to this part of the line, except a galling fire of artillery along the centre, which was vigorously returned by our guns. This fire gradually extended towards the left, and some demonstrations of an attack of cavalry were made by the enemy. As the troops were drawn up on the slope of the hill, they suffered most severely from the enemy's artillery. In order to remedy this, Lord Wellington moved them back about 150 or 200 yards, to the reverse slope of the hill, to shelter them from the direct fire of the guns; our artillery in consequence remained in advance, that they might see into the valley. This movement was made between one and two o'clock by the duke in person; it was general along the front or centre of the position, on the height to the right of La Haye Sainte.

It is by no means improbable, that the enemy considered this movement as the commencement of a retreat, since a considerable portion of our troops were withdrawn from his sight, and determined in consequence to attack our left centre, in order to get possession of the buildings, called Ferme de M. St. Jean, or of the village itself, which commanded the point of junction of the two chaussées. The attacking columns advanced on the Genappe chaussée, and by the side of it; they consisted of four columns of infantry (D'Erlon's corps, which was not engaged on the 16th,) thirty pieces of artillery, and a large body of cuirassiers (Milhaud's.) On the left of this attack, the French cavalry took the lead of the infantry, and had advanced considerably, when the Duke of Wellington ordered the heavy cavalry (Life Guards) to charge them as they ascended the position near La Haye Sainte. They were driven back on their own position, where the chaussée, being cut into the rising ground, leaves steep banks on either side. In this confined space they fought at swords' length for some minutes, until the enemy brought down some light artillery from the heights, when the British cavalry retired to their own position. The loss of the cuirassiers did not appear great. They seemed immediately to reform their ranks, and soon after advanced to attack our infantry, who were formed into squares to receive them, being then unsupported by cavalry. The columns of infantry in the mean time, pushed forward on _our_ left of the Genappe chaussée, beyond La Haye Sainte, which they did not attempt in this attack to take. A Belgian brigade of infantry, formed in front, gave way, and these columns crowned the position. When Sir Thomas Picton moved up the brigade of General Pack from the second line (the 92d regiment in front,) which opened a fire on the column just as it gained the height, and advanced upon it. When within thirty yards, the column began to hesitate; at this moment a brigade of heavy cavalry (the 1st and 2d dragoons) wheeled round the 92d regiment, and took the column in flank; a total rout ensued; the French, throwing down their arms, ran into our position to save themselves from being cut down by the cavalry; many were killed, and two eagles, with 2000 prisoners, taken. But the cavalry pursued their success too far, and being fired upon by one of the other columns, and at the same time, when in confusion, being attacked by some French cavalry who had been sent to support the attack, the British were obliged to retire with considerable loss. In this attack the enemy had brought forward several pieces of artillery, which were captured by our cavalry; the horses in the guns were killed, and we were obliged to abandon the guns. General Ponsonby, who commanded the cavalry, was killed. The gallant Sir Thomas Picton also fell, leading on his division to repel this attack.[336] The number of occurrences which crowded on the attention, rendered it impossible for any individual to see the whole action, and in the midst of noise, bustle, and personal danger, it is difficult to note the exact time in which the event happens.[337]

It is only afterwards, in discussing the chances and merits of each, that such questions become of interest, which may in some measure account for the discrepancy of the statements of officers present, as to the time and circumstances of some of the principal events. From this period, half-past two, until the end of the action, the British cavalry were scarcely engaged, but remained in readiness in the second line.[338] After the French cuirassiers had re-formed, and were strongly reinforced,[339] they again advanced upon our position, and made several desperate attacks upon our infantry, who immediately formed into squares, and maintained themselves with the most determined courage and coolness. Some time previous to this, about three o'clock, an attack was made upon La Haye Sainte, which is merely a small farm-house; it was occupied by two companies of the German Legion. The enemy had advanced beyond it, so that the communication was cut off for some time, and it could not be reinforced. The troops having expended their ammunition, the post was carried. A continued fire was kept up at this point, and the enemy was soon afterwards obliged to abandon it, without being able to avail himself of it as a point of support for his attacking columns. The house was too small for a sufficient number of troops to maintain themselves so close to our position, under such a heavy fire.

The French cavalry, in the attack on the centre of our line above mentioned, were not supported by infantry. They came on, however, with the greatest courage, close to the squares of our infantry; the artillery, which was somewhat in advance, kept up a well-directed fire upon them as they advanced, but on their nearer approach, the gunners were obliged to retire into the squares, so that the guns were actually in possession of the enemy's cavalry, who could not, however, keep possession of them, or even spike them, if they had the means, in consequence of the heavy fire of musketry to which they were exposed. The French accounts say, that several squares were broken, and standards taken, which is decidedly false; on the contrary, the small squares constantly repulsed the cavalry, whom they generally allowed to advance close to their bayonets before they fired. They were driven back with loss on all points, and the artillerymen immediately resumed their guns in the most prompt manner, and opened a severe and destructive fire of grape-shot on them as they retired.[340]

After the failure of the first attack, the French had little or no chance of success by renewing it; but the officers, perhaps ashamed of the failure of such boasted troops, endeavoured repeatedly to bring them back to charge the squares; but they could only be brought to pass between them, and round them. They even penetrated to our second line, where they cut down some stragglers and artillery-drivers, who were with the limbers and ammunition-waggons. They charged the Belgian squares in the second line, with no better success, and upon some heavy Dutch cavalry showing themselves, they soon retired.

If the enemy supposed us in retreat, then such an attack of cavalry might have led to the most important results; but by remaining so uselessly in our position, and passing and repassing our squares of infantry, they suffered severely by their fire; so much so, that before the end of the action, when they might have been of great use, either in the attack, or in covering the retreat, they were nearly destroyed.[341] The only advantage which appeared to result from their remaining in our position, was preventing the fire of our guns on the columns which afterwards formed near La Belle Alliance, in order to debouche for a new attack. The galling fire of the infantry, however, forcing the French cavalry at length to retire into the hollow ground, to cover themselves, the artillerymen were again at their guns, and, being in advance of the squares, saw completely into the valley, and by their well-directed fire, seemed to make gaps in them as they re-formed to repeat this useless expenditure of lives. Had Buonaparte been nearer the front, he surely would have prevented this useless sacrifice of his best troops. Indeed, the attack of cavalry at this period, is only to be accounted for by supposing the British army to be in retreat. He had had no time to avail himself of his powerful artillery to make an impression on that part of the line he meant to attack, as had always been his custom, otherwise it was not availing himself of the superiority he possessed; and it was treating his enemy with a contempt, which, from what he had experienced at Quatre-Bras, could not be justified.[342] He allows, in Liv. ix., p. 156, that this charge was made too soon,[343] but that it was necessary to support it, and that the cuirassiers of Kellerman, 3000 in number, were consequently ordered forward to maintain the position. And at p. 196 and 157, Liv. ix., he allows that the grenadiers-à-cheval, and dragoons of the guard, which were in reserve, advanced without orders; that he sent to recall them, but, as they were already engaged, any retrograde movement would then have been dangerous. Thus, every attack of the enemy had been repulsed, and a severe loss inflicted. The influence this must have had on the "morale" of each army, was much in favour of the British, and the probability of success on the part of the enemy was consequently diminished from that period.

The enemy now seemed to concentrate their artillery, particularly on the left of the Genappe chaussée, in front of La Belle Alliance, and commenced a heavy fire (a large proportion of his guns were twelve-pounders) on that part of our line extending from behind La Haye Sainte towards Hougomont. Our infantry sheltered themselves by lying down behind the ridge of the rising ground, and bore it with the most heroic patience. Several of our guns had been disabled, and many artillerymen killed and wounded, so that this fire was scarcely returned; but when the new point of attack was no longer doubtful, two brigades were brought from Lord Hill's corps on the right, and were of most essential service.

It may here be proper to consider the situation of the Prussian army, and the assistance they had rendered up to this time, about six o'clock.

The British army had sustained several severe attacks, which had been all repulsed, and no advantage of any consequence had been gained by the enemy. They had possessed part of the wood and garden of Hougomont, and La Haye Sainte, which latter they were unable to occupy. Not a square had been broken, shaken, or obliged to retire. Our infantry continued to display the same obstinacy, the same cool, calculating confidence in themselves, in their commander, and in their officers, which had covered them with glory in the long and arduous war in the Peninsula. From the limited extent of the field of battle, and the tremendous fire their columns were exposed to, the loss of the enemy could not have been less than 15,000 killed and wounded. Two eagles, and 2000 prisoners, had been taken, and their cavalry nearly destroyed. We still occupied nearly the same position as we did in the morning, but our loss had been severe, perhaps not less than 10,000 killed and wounded. Our ranks were further thinned by the numbers of men who carried off the wounded, part of whom never returned to the field. The number of Belgian and Hanoverian troops, many of whom were young levies, that crowded to the rear, was very considerable, besides the number of our own dismounted dragoons, together with a proportion of our infantry, some of whom, as will always be found in the best armies, were glad to escape from the field. These thronged the road leading to Brussels, in a manner that none but an eyewitness could have believed, so that perhaps the actual force under the Duke of Wellington at this time, half-past six, did not amount to more than 34,000 men.[344] We had at an early hour been in communication with some patroles of Prussian cavalry on our extreme left. A Prussian corps, under Bulow, had marched from Wavre at an early hour to manœuvre on the right and rear of the French army, but a large proportion of the Prussian army were still on the heights above Wavre, after the action had commenced at Waterloo.[345] The state of the roads, and the immense train of artillery they carried, detained Bulow's corps for a remarkably long time; they had not more than twelve or fourteen miles to march. At one o'clock,[346] the advanced guard of this corps was discovered by the French; about two o'clock the patroles of Bulow's corps were discovered from part of our position. The French detached some light cavalry to observe them, which was the only diversion that had taken place up to this time. At half-past four, Blucher had joined in person Bulow's corps, at which time two brigades of infantry and some cavalry were detached to act on the right of the French. [Muffling, p. 30.] He was so far from the right of the French, that his fire of artillery was too distant to produce any effect, and was chiefly intended to give us notice of his arrival. [Muffling, p. 31.] It was certainly past five o'clock before the fire of the Prussian artillery (Bulow's corps) was observed from our position, and it soon seemed to cease altogether. It appears that they had advanced, and obtained some success, but were afterwards driven back to a considerable distance by the French, who sent a corps under General Lobau to keep them in check.[347] About half-past six, the first Prussian corps came into communication with our extreme left near Ohain.

The effective state of the several armies may be considered to be as follows:

The army under the Duke of Wellington amounted, at the commencement of the campaign, to 75,000 men, including every description of force,[348] of which nearly 40,000 were English, or the King's German Legion. Our loss at Quatre-Bras amounted to 4500 killed and wounded, which reduced the army to 70,500 men; of these about 54,000 were actually engaged at Waterloo; about 32,000 were composed of British troops, or the King's German Legion, including cavalry, infantry, and artillery; the remainder, under Prince Frederick, took no part in the action, but covered the approach to Brussels from Nievelles, and were stationed in the neighbourhood of Halle. The French force has been variously stated, and it is not easy to form a very accurate statement of their strength. Batty gives it at 127,000; that is the number which crossed the frontiers. Liv. ix., p. 69, it is given at 122,000. Gourgaud reduces it to 115,000; of these, 21,000 were cavalry, and they had 350 guns. Let us, however, take the statement in Liv. ix., and say,

122,000 Deduct left at Charleroi, Liv. ix., 92,[349] 5,300 Loss at Quatre-Bras and Ligny, Liv. ix., 100 and 106, 10,350 Left at Ligny (Grouchy, p. 8,) Liv. ix., 193; this is stated at 3000, 3,200 With Grouchy (Grouchy, p. 8,) 32,000 ------ 50,850 ------ Engaged at Waterloo, 71,150

This number, however, is certainly underrated; and there is little doubt but Buonaparte had upwards of 75,000 men under his immediate command on the 18th June.[350]

Buonaparte, liv. ix., 162, 117, states the Prussian force concentrated at Wavre to be 75,000 men. Grouchy, p. 9, makes it 95,000. It is, however, generally understood that they had not above 70,000 with the army at Wavre.

It may be necessary here to refer to the operations of the corps under Grouchy, who were detached in pursuit of the Prussians. It appears, that at twelve o'clock on the 17th, Buonaparte was ignorant of the direction the Prussian army had taken.--[Grouchy, p. 13.]--It was generally supposed that it was towards Namur. At that hour, Buonaparte ordered Grouchy, with 32,000 men, to follow them. As the troops were much scattered, it was three o'clock before they were in movement, and they did not arrive at Gembloux before the night of the 17th, when Grouchy informed Buonaparte of the direction the Prussian army had taken. He discovered the rear-guard of the Prussians near Wavre about twelve o'clock on the 18th, and at two o'clock he attacked Wavre, which was obstinately defended by General Thielman, and succeeded in obtaining possession of a part of the village. By the gallant defence of this post by General Thielman, Grouchy was induced to believe that the whole Prussian army was before him. Blucher, however, had detached Bulow's corps (4th) at an early hour upon Chapelle-Lambert, to act on the rear of the French army. The movement of this corps was, however, much delayed by a fire which happened at Wavre, and by the bad state of the roads; so that they had great difficulty in bringing up the numerous artillery they carried with this corps, which prevented them from attacking the enemy before half-past four o'clock.[351]

The 2d Prussian corps marched upon Chapelle-Lambert and Lasne; and at a later period of the day[352] the 1st corps moved in the direction of Ohain. The 3d corps was also to have supported the 4th and 2d corps. Blucher was not aware of the large force under Grouchy, who attacked the 3d corps as it was preparing to leave Wavre, and obliged it to take up a position on the Dyle, between Limale and Wavre, where he afterwards ordered it to maintain itself as well as it could.

The British army, at this eventful period of the day, amounted to about 34,000 men (allowing 10,000 killed and wounded, and 10,000 more who had left the field,) 18,000 of whom are English.--[Muffling, p. 32.]--The enemy may have had about 45,000 immediately opposed to us, allowing 20,000 killed, wounded, and taken prisoners; and 10,000 men detached to act against the Prussians.

The assistance of the Prussians had been expected at an early hour,[353] which had induced Lord Wellington to accept a battle; so that the British army had to bear the whole brunt of the action for a much longer period than was calculated. Lord Wellington, however, showed no anxiety as to the result. The corps of Lord Hill, several Belgian battalions, and a considerable portion of the cavalry, had been little engaged. He knew the troops he had under his command, and seemed confident of being able to maintain his position, even if the Prussians did not arrive before night. The army was not aware of their approach, nor did he think it necessary to animate their exertions by this intelligence. Buonaparte, on the contrary, thought proper to revive the drooping spirits of his troops, even of his guards, who had not yet been engaged, by sending his aide-de-camp Labédoyère to inform them, as they were about to advance,[354] that Grouchy had joined their right flank, and even deceived Ney himself by this false intelligence.

The above detail has been entered into for the purpose of showing the state of the armies towards the close of the day. Buonaparte was now aware of the powerful diversion the Prussians were about to make, but at the same time seems to have imagined that Grouchy would be able to paralyse their movements. He therefore resolved to make a last desperate effort to break the centre of the British army, and carry their position before the attack of the Prussians could take effect.

The imperial guard had been kept in reserve, and had been for some time formed on the heights extending from La Belle Alliance, towards Hougomont, which supported their left flank. They had not yet been engaged.

About seven o'clock they advanced in two columns,[355] leaving four battalions in reserve. They were commanded by Ney, who led them on. At the same time, they pushed on some light troops in the direction of La Haye. The advance of these columns of the guards was supported by a heavy fire of artillery. Our infantry, who had been posted on the reverse of the hill, to be sheltered from the fire of the guns, were instantly moved forward by Lord Wellington. General Maitland's brigade of guards, and General Adam's brigade (52d and 71st regiments, and 95th rifles,) met this formidable attack. They were flanked by two brigades of artillery, who kept up a destructive fire on the advancing columns. Our troops waited for their approach with their characteristic coolness, until they were within a short distance of our line, when they opened a well-directed fire upon them. The line was formed four deep. The men fired independently, retiring a few paces to load, and then advanced and fired, so that their fire never ceased for a moment. The French, headed by their gallant leader, still advanced, notwithstanding the severe loss they sustained by this fire, which apparently seemed to check their movement. They were now within about fifty yards of our line, when they attempted to deploy, in order to return the fire. Our line appeared to be closing round them. They could not, however, deploy under such a fire; and from the moment they ceased to advance, their chance of success was over. They now formed a confused mass, and at last gave way, retiring in the utmost confusion. They were immediately pursued by the light troops of General Adam's brigade. This decided the battle. The enemy had now exhausted his means of attack. He had still, however, the four battalions of the old guard in reserve. Lord Wellington immediately ordered the whole line to advance to attack their position. The enemy were already attempting a retreat. These battalions formed a square to cover the retreat of the flying columns, flanked by a few guns, and supported by some light cavalry (red lancers.)

The first Prussian corps had now joined our extreme left. They had obtained possession of the village of La Haye, driving out the French light troops who occupied it. Bulow, with the fourth corps, had some time previous to this made an unsuccessful attack upon the village of Planchenot, in the rear of the enemy's right wing, and being joined by the second corps, (Pirch's) was again advancing to attack it.[356] In the meantime, the square of the Old Guard maintained itself, the guns on its flank firing upon our light cavalry, who now advanced, and threatened to turn their flank. Our light troops were close on their front, and our whole line advancing, when this body, the "élite," and now the only hope of the enemy to cover their retreat, and save their army, gave way, and mixed in the general confusion and rout, abandoning their cannon and all their materiel. It was now nearly dark. Bulow, upon being joined by Pirch's corps, again attacked Planchenot, which he turned; and then the enemy abandoned it. He immediately advanced towards the Genappe chausée, and closed round the right of the French--[Liv. ix., p. 169]--driving the enemy before him, and augmenting their confusion. His troops came into the high-road, or chausée, near Maison du Roi, and Blucher and Wellington having met about the same time near La Belle Alliance, it was resolved to pursue the enemy, and give him no time to rally. The loss of the Prussians on the 18th did not exceed 800 men. The brunt of the action was chiefly sustained by the troops of the British and King's German Legion, as their loss will show. In stating this, it must be allowed, that much support was afforded by the other contingents; but they were chiefly raw levies, newly raised, who could not be depended upon in a situation of importance. Some behaved ill, as is publicly known. None were in the first line, except the Nassau troops at Hougomont, and some on our extreme left. They were placed in the second line, and in the valley behind the first line, and on the right, at Braine la Leude. They had generally been formed with the British brigades of the different divisions (in the manner Lord Wellington found so advantageous with the Portuguese troops,) but these arrangements had just been made. The different brigades in a division had not any knowledge of, or confidence in, each other. Many battalions, particularly some Belgian troops, in the rear of the first line, stood with firmness against the French cavalry, and drove them back. They suffered more severely, perhaps, than the first line, from the fire of the enemy's artillery, and at the close of the action, advanced in support of the first line with great steadiness and regularity.

The Prussians, who had made only a short march during the day, pursued the enemy with such vigour, that they were unable to rally a single battalion. The British army halted on the field of battle. They once attempted to make a show of resistance at Genappe, where, perhaps, if they had had a chief to direct them, they might have maintained themselves until daylight, the situation of the village being strong; this might have given them the means of saving at least the semblance of an army. The second Prussian corps was afterwards detached to intercept Grouchy, who was not aware of the result of the battle until twelve o'clock next day. He had succeeded in obtaining some advantage over General Thielman, and got possession of Wavre. He immediately retreated towards Namur, where his rear-guard maintained themselves against all the efforts of the Prussians, who suffered severely in their attempt to take the place. This served to cover his retreat, which he executed with great ability, keeping in a parallel line to Blucher, and having rallied many of the fugitives, he brought his army without loss to Paris. He had been considered as lost, and his army made prisoners; this belief was a great cause of the resignation of Buonaparte; otherwise, with this army he could have mustered 70,000 or 80,000 men; with the fortifications and resources of Paris, which was sufficiently secure against a coup-de-main, it is not likely he would have so easily submitted without another struggle, after the brilliant defensive campaign he had made the preceding year. The great central depôts of Paris and Lyons gave him great advantages, as is well shown in the introductory chapter, Liv. ix., p. 181. There are always some turns of fortune in the events of war; he might at least have made terms. The southern and eastern parts of France were certainly in his favour; he and his army had been well received there only a few weeks before. That army, and a great part of the population, would still have been glad to make sacrifices to endeavour to re-establish the sullied lustre of his arms. At least the honour of falling sword in hand was in his power.

The time of the arrival and co-operation of the Prussians has been variously stated.[357] The above account is perhaps as near the truth as can be. The French writers make it at an early hour, to account more satisfactorily for their defeat. The Prussians also make it somewhat earlier than was actually the case, in order to participate more largely in the honours of the day. Their powerful assistance has been acknowledged to its full extent. They completed the destruction of the French army, after they had failed in all their attacks against the British, which continued upwards of seven hours, after their cavalry had been destroyed, their Imperial Guards driven back, and eagles and prisoners taken, and when their means of further attack may be considered as exhausted. The British army had suffered severely, and was not in a state to have taken great advantage of the retreat of the French. But its safety was never for a moment compromised, and no calculation could justify the idea, that we would have been so easily defeated and driven from our position, but that the enemy would have been so much crippled, that he could not have taken much advantage of our reverses. Even in such a case, the arrival of the Prussians must have obliged him to have retired. Muffling has observed, that the bold movement of Blucher on the 18th has not been sufficiently appreciated.[358] It was bold and masterly. Even when he was told that Grouchy was in his rear with a large force, his plans were not shaken, though this might have somewhat retarded his movements. The skilful veteran knew that it was on the field of Waterloo where the fate of the day was to be decided, and if even Grouchy had attacked Bulow's corps, there was nothing to prevent the first and second corps from joining the British army by Ohain. Grouchy could only, at farthest, have checked the third and fourth corps. There cannot be a moment's doubt of the anxiety and exertions of the Prussians to assist on the 18th. The cordiality and friendship of the Prussians have been felt and acknowledged by every officer who has had occasion to visit Prussia subsequently;--this has been particularly the case with the military.

This short campaign of "Hours" was a joint operation. The honours must be shared. On the 16th, the Prussians fought at Ligny under the promise of our co-operation, which could not, however, be given to the extent it was wished or hoped. On the 18th, Lord Wellington fought at Waterloo, on the promise of the early assistance of the Prussians, which, though unavoidably delayed, was at last given with an effect, which perhaps had never before been witnessed. The finest army France ever saw, commanded by the greatest and ablest of her chiefs, ceased to exist, and in a moment the destiny of Europe was changed.

No. II.

BUONAPARTE'S PROTEST.

[See p. 241.]

"I hereby solemnly protest, in the face of Heaven and of men, against the violence done me, and against the violation of my most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and my liberty.

"I came voluntarily on board of the Bellerophon; I am not a prisoner--I am the guest of England. I came on board even at the instigation of the captain, who told me he had orders from the Government to receive me and my suite, and conduct me to England, if agreeable to me. I presented myself with good faith, to put myself under the protection of the English laws. As soon as I was on board the Bellerophon, I was under shelter of the British people. If the Government, in giving orders to the captain of the Bellerophon to receive me as well as my suite, only intended to lay a snare for me, it has forfeited its honour, and disgraced its flag. If this act be consummated, the English will in vain boast to Europe, their integrity, their laws, and their liberty. British good faith will be lost in the hospitality of the Bellerophon. I appeal to history; it will say that an enemy, who for twenty years waged war against the English people, came voluntarily, in his misfortunes, to seek an asylum under their laws. What more brilliant proof could he give of his esteem and his confidence? But what return did England make for so much magnanimity?--They feigned to stretch forth a friendly hand to that enemy; and when he delivered himself up in good faith, they sacrificed him.

(Signed) "NAPOLEON.

"_On board the Bellerophon, 4th August, 1815._"

We have already, in the text, completely refuted the pretence, that Buonaparte was ensnared on board the Bellerophon. Every expression of Captain Maitland went to disown any authority to treat with Napoleon, or grant him conditions of any kind; nor could he say more when his private opinion was demanded, than that he had no reason to suppose that Napoleon would be ill received in England. This was in presence of Captain Sartorius and Captain Gambier, both of whom Captain Maitland appealed to in support of his statement. We do not, however, feel it too much, on the present occasion, to copy the letters which passed betwixt Lord Keith, on the one hand, and Captain Maitland, Captain Sartorius, and Captain Gambier, on the other.

"_Tonnant, at anchor under Berryhead, 7th August, 1815._

"SIR,--Count Las Cases having this morning stated to me, that he understood from you, when he was on board the Bellerophon in Basque roads, on a mission from General Buonaparte, that you were authorised to receive the General and his suite on board the ship you command, for conveyance to England; and that you assured him, at the same time, that both the General and his suite would be well received there; you are to report, for my information, such observations as you may consider it necessary to make upon these assertions. I am, Sir, &c.

"KEITH, Admiral.

"Captain Maitland, Bellerophon."

"_H. M. S. Bellerophon, Plymouth Sound, 8th August, 1815._

"MY LORD,--I have to acknowledge the receipt of your lordship's letter of yesterday's date, informing me that Count Las Cases had stated to you, that he had understood from me, when he was on board the Bellerophon in Basque roads, on a mission from General Buonaparte, that I was authorised to receive the General and his suite on board the ship I command, for a conveyance to England; and that I assured him, at the same time, that both the General and his suite would be well received there; and directing me to report, for your lordship's information, such observations as I may consider it necessary to make upon these assertions. I shall, in consequence, state, to the best of my recollection, the whole of the transaction that took place between Count Las Cases and me, on the 14th of July, respecting the embarkation of Napoleon Buonaparte, for the veracity of which I beg to refer your lordship to Captain Sartorius as to what was said in the morning, and to that officer and Captain Gambier (the Myrmidon having joined me in the afternoon) as to what passed in the evening.

"Your lordship being informed already of the flag of truce that came out to me on the 10th of July, as well as of every thing that occurred on that occasion, I shall confine myself to the transactions of the 14th of the same month.

"Early in the morning of that day, the officer of the watch informed me, a schooner, bearing a flag of truce, was approaching. On her joining the ship, about seven A. M., the Count Las Cases and General Lallemand came on board; when, on being shown into the cabin, Las Cases asked me if any answer had been returned to the letter sent by me to Sir Henry Hotham, respecting Napoleon Buonaparte being allowed to pass for America, either in the frigates or in a neutral vessel. I informed him no answer had been returned, though I hourly expected, in consequence of those despatches, Sir Henry Hotham would arrive; and, as I had told Monsieur Las Cases, when last on board, that I should send my boat in when the answer came, it was quite unnecessary to have sent out a flag of truce on that account; there, for the time, the conversation terminated. On their coming on board, I had made the signal for the captain of the Slaney, being desirous of having a witness to all that might pass.

"After breakfast (during which Captain Sartorius came on board) we retired to the after-cabin, when M. Las Cases began on the same subject, and said, 'The Emperor was so anxious to stop the farther effusion of blood, that he would go to America in any way the English Government would sanction, either in a neutral, a disarmed frigate, or an English ship of war.' To which I replied, 'I have no authority to permit any of those measures; but if he chooses to come on board the ship I command, I think, under the orders I am acting with, I may venture to receive him, and carry him to England; but if I do so, I can in no way be answerable for the reception he may meet with'--(this I repeated several times)--when Las Cases said, 'I have little doubt, under those circumstances, that you will see the Emperor on board the Bellerophon.' After some more general conversation, and the above being frequently repeated, M. Las Cases and General Lallemand took their leave; and I assure your lordship, that I never in any way entered into conditions with respect to the reception General Buonaparte was to meet with; nor was it at that time finally arranged that he was to come on board the Bellerophon. In the course of conversation, Las Cases asked me, whether I thought Buonaparte would be well received in England? to which I gave the only answer I could do in my situation--'That I did not at all know what was the intention of the British Government; but I had no reason to suppose he would not be well received.' It is here worthy of remark, that when Las Cases came on board, he assured me that Buonaparte was then at Rochefort, and that it would be necessary for him to go there to report the conversation that had passed between us (this I can prove by the testimony of Captain Sartorius, and the first lieutenant of this ship, to whom I spoke of it at the time,) which statement was not fact; Buonaparte never having quitted isle d'Aix, or the frigates, after the 3d.

"I was therefore much surprised at seeing M. Las Cases on board again before seven o'clock the same evening; and one of the first questions I put to him was, whether he had been at Rochefort? He answered, that, on returning to isle d'Aix, he found that Napoleon had arrived there.

"M. Las Cases then presented to me the letter Count Bertrand wrote concerning Buonaparte's intention to come on board the ship (a copy of which has been transmitted to your lordship by Sir Henry Hotham,) and it was not till then agreed upon that I should receive him; when either M. Las Cases or General Gourgaud (I am not positive which, as I was employed writing my own dispatches) wrote to Bertrand to inform him of it. While paper was preparing to write the letter, I said again to M. Las Cases, 'You will recollect I have no authority for making conditions of any sort.' Nor has M. Las Cases ever started such an idea till the day before yesterday. That it was not the feeling of Buonaparte, or the rest of his people, I will give strong proof, drawn from the conversations they have held with me.

"As I never heard the subject mentioned till two days ago, I shall not detail every conversation that has passed, but confine myself to that period. The night that the squadron anchored at the back of Berryhead, Buonaparte sent for me about ten P.M., and said he was informed by Bertrand that I had received orders to remove him to the Northumberland, and wished to know if that was the case; on being told that it was, he requested that I would write a letter to Bertrand, stating I had such orders, that it might not appear he went of his own accord, but that he had been forced to do so. I told him I could have no objection, and wrote a letter to that effect, which your lordship afterwards sanctioned, and desired me, if he required it, to give him a copy of the order.

"After having arranged that matter, I was going to withdraw, when he requested me to remain, as he had something more to say. He then began complaining of his treatment in being forced to go to St. Helena; among other things he observed, 'They say I made no conditions--certainly I made no conditions; how could a private man (_un particulier_) make conditions with a nation? I wanted nothing from them but hospitality, or (as the ancients would express it) air and water. I threw myself on the generosity of the English nation: I claimed a place _sur leurs foyers_, and my only wish was to purchase a small estate, and end my life in tranquillity.' After more of the same sort of conversation, I left him for the night.

"On the morning he removed from the Bellerophon to the Northumberland, he sent for me again, and said, 'I have sent for you to express my gratitude for your conduct to me, while I have been on board the ship you command. My reception in England has been very different from what I expected; but you throughout have behaved like a man of honour; and I request you will accept my thanks, as well as convey them to the officers and ship's company of the Bellerophon.' Soon afterwards, Montholon came to me from Buonaparte; but, to understand what passed between him and me, I must revert to a conversation that I had with Madame Bertrand on the passage from Rochefort.

"It is not necessary to state how the conversation commenced, as it does not apply to the present transaction; but she informed me that it was Buonaparte's intention to present me with a box containing his picture set with diamonds. I answered, 'I hope not, for I cannot receive it.'--'Then you will offend him very much,' she said.--'If that is the case,' I replied, 'I request you will take measures to prevent its being offered, as it is absolutely impossible I can accept of it; and I wish to spare him the mortification, and myself the pain, of a refusal.' There the matter dropped, and I heard no more of it, till about half an hour before Buonaparte quitted the Bellerophon, when Montholon came to me, and said he was desired by Buonaparte to express the high sense he entertained of my conduct throughout the whole of the transaction;--that it had been his intention to present me with a box containing his portrait, but that he understood I was determined not to accept it. I said, 'Placed as I was, I felt it impossible to receive a present from him, though I was highly flattered at the testimony he had borne to the uprightness of my conduct throughout.' Montholon added, 'One of the greatest causes of chagrin he feels in not being admitted to an interview with the Prince Regent is, that he had determined to ask as a favour, your being promoted to the rank of rear-admiral.' To which I replied, 'That would have been quite impossible, but I do not the less feel the kindness of the intention.' I then said, 'I am hurt that Las Cases should say I held forth any assurances as to the reception Buonaparte was to meet with in England.'--'Oh!' said he, 'Las Cases is disappointed in his expectations; and as he negotiated the affair, he attributes the Emperor's situation to himself: but I can assure you that he (Buonaparte) feels convinced you have acted like a man of honour throughout.'

"As your lordship overheard part of a conversation which took place between Las Cases and me on the quarterdeck of the Bellerophon, I shall not detail it; but on that occasion, I positively denied having promised any thing as to the reception of Buonaparte and his suite; and I believe your lordship was of opinion he could not make out the statement to you. It is extremely unpleasant for me to be under the necessity of entering into a detail of this sort; but the unhandsome representation Las Cases has made to your lordship of my conduct, has obliged me to produce proofs of the light in which the transaction was viewed by Buonaparte as well as his attendants.

"I again repeat that Captains Gambier and Sartorius can verify the principal part of what I have stated, as far as concerns the charge made against me by Count Las Cases.--I have the honour to be your lordship's, &c.

"FREDERICK L. MAITLAND.

"To the Right Hon. Viscount Keith, G.C.B., &c. &c."

"_Slaney, in Plymouth Sound, 15th August, 1815._

"MY LORD,--I have read Captain Maitland's letter to your lordship, of the 8th instant, containing his observations upon the assertions made on the preceding day by Count Las Cases; and I most fully attest the correctness of the statement he has made, so far as relates to the conversations that took place in my presence.--I have the honour to be your lordship's, &c.

"G. R. SARTORIUS, Capt. of H. M. S. Slaney.

"To the Right Hon. Viscount Keith, G.C.B., &c. &c."

It happened that Captain Gambier's attestation to the above statement was not in Captain Maitland's possession; but having obtained a copy of it from the kindness of Mr. Meike, secretary to Lord Keith, we can supply this additional piece of evidence to a proof already so distinct in itself.

"I have read the preceding letter" [that of Captain Maitland,] "and most fully attest the correctness of what Captain Maitland has said, so far as relates to what occurred in my presence on the evening of the 14th of July.

(Signed) "ROBERT GAMBIER, "Captain of H. M. Ship Myrmidon."

No. III.

[See p. 249.]

STATES OF THERMOMETER, as taken at _Deadwood_, island of St. Helena, during twelve calendar months, viz. from 1st Sept. 1820, to 31st Aug. 1821, inclusive.--This condensed view of the different states of the Thermometer was kept at Deadwood, which is just one short mile from Longwood, and therefore expresses the exact temperature of the climate in which he lived--milder, and more equable, certainly, than most in the known world. In point of moisture, Dr. Shortt is not of opinion that St. Helena differs materially from any other tropical island of the same extent. His account of the general state of health among the troops has been already referred to.

Thermometer. Months. Maximum. Medium. Minimum. Remarks Sept. 1820, 66 64 62 Wind blowing from S.E. Oct. do. 68 65 62 Do. Do. Nov. do. 72 66 61 Generally S.E. 6 days from N.W. Dec. do. 72 66 61 Wind from S.E. Jan. 1821, 76 70 68 Do. Do. Feb. do. 76 70 67 Do. Do. March do. 76 71 67 Do. Do. April do. 74 70 66 Do. Do. May do. 72 68 64 Do. Do. June do. 70 65 57 Generally S.E. 1 day westerly. July do. 71 66 57 Do. Do. Aug. do. 68 64 62 Wind from S.E.

(Certified) by THOMAS SHORTT, Physician to H.M. Forces, and Principal Medical Officer at St. Helena.

No. IV.

INTERVIEW BETWIXT NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE AND HENRY ELLIS, ESQ., THIRD COMMISSIONER OF LORD AMHERST'S EMBASSY TO CHINA.

[See p. 311.]

Although, like others, I was familiar with the details of Buonaparte's present situation, and might, therefore, be supposed to have become saturated with those sentiments of surprise, which such an extraordinary reverse of fortune was calculated to excite--I must confess that I could boast but little self-possession on entering the presence of a man, who had been at once the terror and wonder of the civilized world. The absence of attendants, and the other circumstances of high station, did not seem to me to have affected his individual greatness; however elevated his rank had been, his actions had been still beyond it. Even the mighty weapons which he had wielded were light to his gigantic strength; the splendour of a court, the pomp, discipline, and number of his armies, sufficient to have constituted the personal greatness of an hereditary monarch, scarcely added to the effect produced by the tremendous, but unfortunately ill-directed, energies of his mind. Their absence, therefore, did not diminish the influence of his individuality. I do not know that I ever before felt myself in the presence of a mind differing from mine, not in degree, but in nature; and could have had but little disposition to gratify curiosity by inquiries into the motives which had guided his conduct in the eventful transactions of his life. I came prepared to listen and recollect, not to question or speculate. Lord Amherst having presented me, Napoleon began by saying, that my name was not unknown to him; that he understood I had been at Constantinople, and had a faint recollection of some person of my name having been employed in Russia. I, in reply, said that I had been at Constantinople in my way to Persia. "Yes," says he, "it was I who showed you the way to that country? _Eh bien, comment se porte mon ami le Shah?_ What have the Russians been doing lately in that quarter?" On my informing him that the result of the last war had been the cession of all the territory in the military occupation of their troops--he said, "Yes, Russia is the power now most to be dreaded; Alexander may have whatever army he pleases. Unlike the French and English, the subjects of the Russian empire improve their condition by becoming soldiers. If I called on a Frenchman to quit his country, I required him to abandon his happiness. The Russian, on the contrary, is a slave while a peasant, and becomes free and respectable when a soldier. A Frenchman, leaving his country, always changes for the worse, while Germany, France, and Italy, are all superior to the native country of the Russians. Their immense bodies of Cossacks are also formidable; their mode of travelling resembles the Bedouins of the desert. They advance with confidence into the most unknown regions." He then related the following instance of the extraordinary powers of vision possessed by the Arabs. When in Egypt, he took up his glass to examine an Arab, who was still at some distance. Before Buonaparte had, with the assistance of the instrument, ascertained his appearance, a Bedouin standing near him, had so completely made him out, as to distinguish the dress of the tribe to which he belonged.

"Russia," continued he, "has still her designs upon Constantinople. To obtain my consent to his projects upon Turkey, was the great wish of the Emperor Alexander, but in vain; I told him I would never allow the Greek cross to be added to the crown of the Czars. Austria would unite with Russia against Turkey, on condition of being allowed to retain the provinces contiguous to her frontier. France and England are the only powers interested in opposing their schemes; I always felt this, and always supported the Turks, although I hated them as barbarians. If Russia," he added, "organises Poland, she will be irresistible." Napoleon here took a rapid view of the military character of the nations of Europe, and, without reference to what he had just said respecting the Russians, declared the French and English were the only troops deserving notice for their discipline and moral qualities. "The Austrian and Prussian," he said, "were much inferior: in fact, real strength and efficiency were confined to the English and French." The remainder of his harangue (for his habit of not waiting for, or indeed listening to replies, renders conversation an inapplicable term) was employed upon the present state of England, which he considered was most calamitous, and as produced by the impolicy of mixing with continental affairs. The dominion of the seas, and the maintenance of a monopoly of commerce, he considered as the only true foundation of our national prosperity. "Whatever might be the bravery of our troops, their limited number would for ever prevent us from becoming a great military power. _Vous avez toujours vôtre bravoure des siècles, mais avec quarante cinq mille, vous ne serez jamais, puissance militaire._ In sacrificing maritime affairs, we were acting like Francis I. at the battle of Pavia, whose general had made an excellent disposition of his army, and had placed forty-five pieces of cannon (an unheard of battery at that time) in a situation that must have secured the victory: Francis, however, his grand sabre à la main, placed himself at the head of his gendarmerie and household troops, between the battery and the enemy, and thereby lost the advantage his superiority of artillery gave him; thus," said he, "seduced by a temporary success, you are masking the only battery you possess, your naval pre-eminence. While that remains, you may blockade all Europe. I well know the effect of blockade. With two small wooden machines, you distress a line of coast, and place a country in the situation of a body rubbed over with oil, and thus deprived of the natural perspiration. I," says he, "am now suffering in my face from this obstruction to perspiration, and blockade has the same effect upon a nation. What have you gained by the war? You have gained possession of my person, and had an opportunity of exhibiting an example of ungenerousness. By placing the Bourbons on the throne, you have disturbed the legitimacy of kings, for I am the natural sovereign of France. You conceived that none but Napoleon could shut the ports of Europe against you, but now every petty sovereign insults you with prohibitory regulations upon your commerce.--_L'Angleterre est déchue depuis qu'elle s'est mêlée des affaires du continent._--You should have been aware of the advance I had made towards the improvement of manufacture throughout my empire, and secured the repayment of your expenses during the war, by a forced extension of your trade. Who placed the King of Portugal on his throne? Was it not England? Had you not, therefore, a right to be reimbursed? and that reimbursement might have been found in the exclusive trade to the Brazils for five years. This demand was reasonable, and could not, therefore, have been refused." I observed, that such a proceeding would not have been consonant with our political system, and that the King of Portugal, aware of this, would have resisted, the more especially as, when placed on the throne, he no longer wanted our assistance. "The demand should have been made in the first instance," said he, "when you might have asked anything; but it is now too late; and you have only to blame your ministers, who have totally neglected the interests of England. Russia, Austria, Prussia, have all been gainers; England alone has been a loser. You have even neglected that poor kingdom of Hanover. Why not have added three or four millions to its population? Lord Castlereagh got among the monarchs, became a courtier, and thought more of their aggrandisement, than of the claims of his country. Your good fortunes, _et mes fautes, mes imprudences_, have brought about a state of things which even Pitt never dared to dream of; and what is the result? your people are starving, and your country is convulsed with riots. The situation of England is most curious. She has gained all, and yet she is ruined. Believe the opinion of a man accustomed to consider political subjects; England should look wholly to commerce, and naval affairs; she never can be a continental power, and in the attempt must be ruined. Maintain the empire of the seas, and you may send your ambassadors to the courts of Europe, and ask what you please. The sovereigns are aware of your present distressed situation, and insult you." He repeated, "Forty-five thousand men will never make you a military power; it is not in the genius of your nation. None but the very dregs of the nation enlist in your army; the profession is not liked." He would not listen to an observation respecting the great channel of supply from the militia to the line, which he seemed to confound with the volunteers.

Napoleon continued his observations by saying, "The suspension of the habeas corpus would not prove a remedy for the riots; people must have food; the stagnation of commerce diminishes your exports, and your manufacturers are starving. It is absurd to describe the evils as temporary. Wellesley is right in that, the distress is general, and must be lasting. Stopping the evils by suspending the habeas corpus, is applying topical remedies when the disease is in the system; topical remedies will only remove topical eruption; the complaint extends over the whole body.--There is not a man of ability in the cabinet. Lord Chatham understood the true interests of England, when he said, 'If we are just for twenty-four hours, we must be ruined.' Immense extension of commerce, combined with reductions and reforms, could alone have prevented the present crisis in England. For his part, he wished that all was tranquil and settled, as that was his only chance of being released. A large army," he remarked, "was moreover inconsistent with our free constitution, to which we were, with reason, so much attached." I remarked, that the superior importance to England of maritime concerns was fully acknowledged by our ministers, and that they would heartily rejoice in being enabled to withdraw the British contingent in France (to which he seemed to have alluded); that the actual distress in England arose from the system of public credit, by which the war had been supported, and the consequences of which were in their nature lasting; that these consequences had been anticipated, and were not, it was to be hoped, irremediable. "Yes," said Napoleon, "your resources are great; but your ruin, from persisting in your present policy, is certain. Your ministers have affected generosity, and have ruined the country. In this generosity you have departed from the system of your ancestors, who never concluded a peace without gaining, or attempting to gain, some advantage; they were steady merchants, who filled their purses; but you have set up for gentlemen, and are ruined. Although the peace, on the termination of the American war, was honourable to France, for she compelled England to acknowledge the independence of America, the treaty in 1783 was fatal to French commerce; and how do you suppose that came to be concluded? The French ministers were fully aware of its injurious consequences, but England threatened war, and they had no money to defray the expenses." I understood Buonaparte to say, that this account was supported by memoirs in the Bureau des Affaires Etrangères.

During the conversation, which, notwithstanding the variety of topics started, if not discussed, did not occupy more than half an hour, there were frequent repetitions of particular expressions, such as "_L'Angleterre est déchue; avec 45,000 hommes vous ne serez jamais puissance continentale_." Buonaparte never listened to any reply naturally arising from his observations, but continued his own view of the subject he was discussing; he seemed little studious in arrangement, but poured out his ideas with a rapidity of language almost equal to the rapidity of their succession in the mind. His style upon political subjects is so epigrammatic and tranchant, that in a man whose actions had not been correspondent, it would look like charlatanerie. Buonaparte must be allowed to be eloquent, and possesses that species of oratory well adapted for a popular assembly, or for influencing persons already prepared to look up to him. Upon the former, his point would produce impression; and a sort of oracular confidence, in which he abounds, would command the conviction of the latter. His manner, on the whole, was pleasing, and had a mixture of simplicity and conscious superiority which I never before witnessed. The expression of his countenance is more intellectual than commanding; and his person, so far from being overgrown with corpulency, seems fully equal to the endurance of the greatest exertion. I should say that he was as fit as ever to go through a campaign, and that, considering his age, he was not unusually corpulent. I have omitted to mention an illustration made use of by Buonaparte, in speaking of the conduct of the English ministers at the Congress. "You were," said he, "like the dog in the fable, who dropt the piece of meat in the water, while looking at his own image. You had the commerce of the world, and you took no precautions to retain it. Nothing but a great extension of commerce could have enabled you to bear your immense taxes, and you made no effort to obtain it." Buonaparte miscalls English names and words more than any foreigner I ever before heard, who had pretensions to a knowledge of the language; and notwithstanding his reading, and the attention he has probably paid to the subject, he seems little acquainted with the nature of our domestic policy. His plans, like his practice, are all despotic, and are formed without adverting to constitutional restrictions.

In his conversation with Lord Amherst, he dwelt much upon his present situation, and expressed himself with great and unjustifiable bitterness respecting Sir H. Lowe. Lord Bathurst's speech had evidently annoyed him, and he expressed disappointment at the countenance such language and treatment received from Lords Sidmouth and Liverpool, with whom he affected to consider himself as having been formerly on terms of amicable intercourse. He said such a man as Lord Cornwallis ought to have been placed in Sir H. Lowe's situation. It is difficult to conceive any complaints more unreasonable than those made by Buonaparte of Sir H. Lowe's conduct. There perhaps never was a prisoner so much requiring to be watched and guarded, to whom so much liberty and range for exercise was allowed. With an officer he may go over any part of the island; wholly unobserved, his limits extend four miles--partially observed, eight--and overlooked, twelve. At night, the sentinels certainly close round Longwood itself. The house is small, but well furnished; and altogether as commodious as the circumstances under which it was procured would admit. I can only account for his petulance and unfounded complaints, from one of two motives--either he wishes by their means to keep alive interest in Europe, and more especially in England, where he flatters himself he has a party; or his troubled mind finds an occupation in the tracasseries which his present conduct gives to the governor. If the latter be the case, it is in vain for any governor to unite being on good terms with him to the performance of his duty. Buonaparte, in concluding the observations which he thought proper to address to me, made a motion with his hand to Lord Amherst for the introduction of Captain Maxwell and the gentlemen of the embassy. They entered, accompanied by Generals Bertrand, Montholon, and Gourgaud. A circle under the direction of the grand marshal was formed, and Lord Amherst having presented Captain Maxwell, Buonaparte said, "I have heard of you before--you took one of my frigates, the Pauline; _vous êtes un méchant;_ well, your government can say nothing about your losing the ship, for you have taken one for them before." He observed of Lord Amherst's son, that he must resemble his mother, and good-humouredly asked him what he had brought from China, whether a bonnet or a mandarin? He inquired of Mr. M'Leod, the surgeon of the Alceste, how long he had served, and if he had been wounded? repeating the question in English. On Mr. Abel being introduced as naturalist, he inquired if he knew Sir Joseph Banks, saying that his name had always been a passport, and that, even during the war, his requests had always been attended to. He wished to know if Mr. Abel was a member of the Royal Society, or was a candidate for that honour. Buonaparte appeared to be under some erroneous impression respecting a son of Sir J. Banks having gone on an expedition to the coast of Africa. Mr. Cook's name led him naturally to inquire whether he was a descendant of the celebrated Cook, the navigator, adding, "he was indeed a great man." Dr. Lynn having been presented as a physician, was asked at what university he had studied? "At Edinburgh," being the reply.--"Ah! you are a Brunonian in practice; and do you bleed and give as much mercury as our St. Helena doctors?" To Mr. Griffiths, the chaplain, (whom he called _Aumonier_,) he put some questions respecting the state of religion in China; he was answered, a kind of Polytheism. Not seeming to understand this word spoken in English, Bertrand explained, _Pluralité de Dieux_. "Ah, _Pluralité de Dieux_! Do they believe," he resumed, "in the immortality of the soul?"--"They seem to have some idea of a future state," was the reply. He then asked to what university he belonged? and jokingly said to Lord Amherst, "you must get him a good living when you go home;" adding, "I wish you may be a prebendary." He then inquired of Mr. Hayne, how and where he had been educated? On being told that he had been educated at home by his father, he immediately turned away; and having now said something to each, he dismissed us.

No. V.

MEMORANDUM OF THE ESTABLISHMENT AT LONGWOOD.

[See p. 315.]

GENERAL BUONAPARTE, 1

_Followers._

General and Madame Bertrand, 2 Children of ditto, 3 General and Madame Montholon, 2 Children of ditto, 2 General Gourgaud, 1 Count Las Cases, 1 Monsieur Las Cases, his son, 1 Captain Prowtowski, 1

_Foreign Servants to General Buonaparte_, 12

Marchand, Santini, Lepage, Aby, Cipriani, Rosseau, Noverraz, Pierron, Archambaud, 1, Archambaud, 2, Gentilini, 1 female cook, Bernard, wife, and son, foreign servants to General Bertrand, 3 1 French female servant to General Montholon, 1

_English Attendants._

1 English gardener, 1 English soldiers (servants,) 12 1 boy, a soldier's son, 1 1 English maid-servant to General Bertrand, 1 2 English female servants to General Montholon, 2 Black servants, 3

_British Officers attached to the Establishment._

Captain Poppleton, captain of the guard, 1 Dr. O'Meara, surgeon, 1 Servants, 3 -- Total, 55

_29th August, 1816._

Of these persons, General Gourgaud, Madame Montholon and her children, Count Las Cases and his son, Prowtowski and Santini, returned to Europe at different periods.

Cipriani, the maître d'hôtel, died on the island.

The Abbé Bonavita, surgeon Antommarchi, the priest, Vignali, and two cooks, were sent out to St. Helena in 1819.

The abbé returned to Europe in 1821, having left St. Helena in the month of March of that year.

Something happened to three of the servants, Pierron, Aby, and Archambaud, which cannot be now precisely ascertained. It is thought, however, that Pierron was sent away in consequence of some quarrel about a female servant; Aby (probably) died, and one of the Archambauds went to America.

General Bertrand's family in France, and the relations of his wife in England (the Jerninghams,) were employed to send them out several servants, whose names cannot be ascertained.

EXTRAIT DU JOURNAL MANUSCRIT DE M. DE LAS CASES.

_Dec. 1815._--Depuis nôtre départ de Plomouth, depuis nôtre débarquement dans l'île, jusqu'à nôtre translation à Longwood, la maison de l'Empereur, bien que composée de onze personnes, avait cessée d'exister.

_Personnes composant le Service de l'Empereur:_--

Marchand } { Prem. valet de chambre. St. Denis } Chambre{ Valet de chambre. Noverraz } { Id. Santini } { Huissier.

Cipriani } { Maître d'hôtel. Pierron } { Officier. Lepage } Bouche { Cusinier. Rosseau } { Argentier.

Archambault, ainé } { Piqueur. Archambault, cadet } Livrée { Id. Gentilini } { Valet de pied.

Dès que nous fumes tous réunis à Longwood, l'Empereur voulut régulariser tout ce qui étoit autour de lui, et chercha à employer chacun de nous suivant la pente de son esprit, conservant au grand maréchal le commandement et la surveillance de tout en grand. Il confia à M. de Montholon tous les détails domestiques. Il donna à Monsieur Gourgaud la direction de l'écurie, et me reserva le détail des meubles, avec la régularisation des objets qui nous seroient fournis. Cette dernière partie me sembloit tellement en contraste avec les détails domestiques, et je trouvois que l'unité sur ce point devoit être si avantageux au bien commun, que je me prêtai le plus que je pus à m'en faire dépouiller; ce qui ne fut pas difficile.

No. VI.

INTERVIEW BETWEEN BUONAPARTE AND THE WIDOW OF THEOBALD WOLFE TONE.

[See p. 342.]

In vindication of what we have said in the text respecting the ready access afforded by Napoleon, when Emperor, we may refer to the following interesting extract from the Memoirs of Theobald Wolfe Tone, already quoted. It is the account given by his widow of an interview with the Emperor; and it is only necessary to add, by way of introduction, that Mrs. Tone, having received a pension from the French government after her husband's catastrophe, became desirous, in addition, to have her son admitted into the military school at St. Cyr. Being discountenanced in her pretensions by the minister-at-war, she was advised to present her memorial to the Emperor himself. The following is a very pleasing account of the scene that took place betwixt them, in which we give Napoleon full credit for acting from his feelings of generosity towards the widow and orphan of a man who had died in his service:--

"Very soon the carriage with the Emperor and Empress drove into the circle; the horses were changed as quick as thought, but I stept up and presented the book and memorial. He took them, and handing the book to his _écuyer_, opened the paper. I have said it commenced by recalling Tone to his memory. When he began, he said 'Tone!' with an expressive accent--'I remember well,' (_Je m'en souviens bien._) He read it all through, and two or three times stopped, looked at me, and bowed in reading it. When he had finished, he said to me, 'Now, speak to me of yourself,' (_Maintenant, parlez moi de vous._) I hesitated, for I was not prepared for that question, and took small interest in the subject. He proceeded. 'Have you a pension?' I said I had. 'Is it sufficient? Do you want any extraordinary succour?' By this time I had recovered myself, and said, 'That his Majesty's goodness left me no personal want; that all my cares, all my interest in life, were centered in my child, whom I now gave up to his Majesty's service.' He answered, 'Be tranquil then on his account--be perfectly tranquil concerning him,' (_Soyez donc tranquille sur son compte--soyez parfaitement tranquille sur lui._) I perceived a little half smile when I said 'my child' (_mon énfant._) I should have said 'my son.' I knew it, but forgot.--He had stopped so long, that a crowd had gathered, and were crushing on, crying _Vive l'Empereur!_ They drove in the guard, and there came a horse very close to me. I was frightened, and retiring; but he called to stay where I was--'_Restez, restez là._' Whether it was for my safety, or that he wanted to say more, I cannot tell; but more it was impossible to say, for the noise. I was close to the carriage door, and the guards on horseback close behind me, and indeed I was trembling. He saluted the people, and directed that two Napoleons a-piece should be given to the old women, and women with little children, who were holding out their hands. He then drove on, and, in going, nodded to me two or three times with affectionate familiarity, saying, 'Your _child_ shall be well naturalized,' (_Vôtre enfant sera bien naturalisé_,) with a playful emphasis on the words _vôtre enfant_."

The youth was admitted to the cavalry school of St. Cyr, and the following is an account of Napoleon visiting that seminary:--

"The Emperor frequently visited the school of infantry at St. Cyr, reviewed the cadets, and gave them cold collations in the park. But he had never visited the school of cavalry since its establishment, of which we were very jealous, and did all in our power to attract him. Whenever he hunted, the cadets were in grand parade on the parterre, crying, '_Vive l'Empereur_,' with all their young energies; he held his hat raised as he passed them; but that was all we could gain. Wise people whispered that he never would go whilst they were so evidently expecting him; that he liked to keep them always on the alert; it was good for discipline. The general took another plan, and once allowed no sign of life about the castle when the Emperor passed--it was like a deserted place. But it did not take neither; he passed, as if there was no castle there. It was _désesperant_. When, lo! the next day but one after I had spoken to him, he suddenly gallopped into the court of the castle, and the cry of the sentinel, '_L'Empereur!_' was the first notice they had of it. He examined into every thing. All were in undress, all at work, and this was what he wanted. In the military schools, the cadets got ammunition-bread, and lived like well fed soldiers; but there was great outcry in the circles of Paris against the bread of the school of St. Germains. Ladies complained that their sons were poisoned by it; the Emperor thought it was all nicety, and said no man was fit to be an officer who could not eat ammunition-bread. However, being there, he asked for a loaf, which was brought, and he saw it was villanous trash, composed of pease, beans, rye, potatoes, and every thing that would make flour or meal, instead of good brown wheaten flour. He tore the loaf in two in a rage, and dashed it against the wall, and there it stuck like a piece of mortar, to the great annoyance of those whose duty it was to have attended to this. He ordered the baker to be called, and made him look at it _sticking_. The man was in great terror first at the Emperor's anger; but, taking heart, he begged his Majesty not to take his contract from him, and he would give good bread in future; at which the Emperor broke into a royal and imperial passion, and threatened to send him to the galleys; but, suddenly turning round, he said, 'Yes, he would allow him to keep his contract, on condition that, as long as it lasted, he should furnish the school with good white household bread, (_pain de ménage_,) such as was sold in the baker's shops in Paris;--that he might choose that, or lose his contract;' and the baker thankfully promised to furnish good white bread in future, at the same price."

No. VII.

BUONAPARTE'S LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT.

[See p. 349.]

NAPOLEON,

_This 15th April, 1821, at Longwood, Island of St. Helena. This is my Testament, or Act of my last Will._

I.

1. I die in the apostolical Roman religion, in the bosom of which I was born, more than fifty years since. 2. It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have loved so well. 3. I have always had reason to be pleased with my dearest wife, Marie Louise. I retain for her, to my last moment, the most tender sentiments--I beseech her to watch, in order to preserve my son from the snares which yet environ his infancy. 4. I recommend to my son never to forget that he was born a French prince, and never to allow himself to become an instrument in the hands of the triumvirs who oppress the nations of Europe; he ought never to fight against France, or to injure her in any manner; he ought to adopt my motto--"_Every thing for the French people_." 5. I die prematurely, assassinated by the English oligarchy and its * * *. The English nation will not be slow in avenging me. 6. The two unfortunate results of the invasions of France, when she had still so many resources, are to be attributed to the treason of Marmont, Augereau, Talleyrand, and La Fayette. I forgive them--may the posterity of France forgive them like me! 7. I thank my good and most excellent mother--the Cardinal--my brothers Joseph, Lucien, Jerome--Pauline, Caroline, Julie, Hortense, Catarine, Eugène, for the interest which they have continued to feel for me. I pardon Louis for the libel which he published in 1820: It is replete with false assertions and falsified documents. 8. I disavow the "Manuscript of St. Helena," and other works, under the title of Maxims, Sayings, &c., which persons have been pleased to publish for the last six years. These are not the rules which have guided my life. I caused the Duc d'Enghien to be arrested and tried, because that step was essential to the safety, interest, and honour of the French people, when the Count d'Artois was maintaining, by his confession, sixty assassins at Paris. Under similar circumstances, I would act in the same way.

II.

1. I bequeath to my son, the boxes, orders, and other articles; such as my plate, field-bed, saddles, spurs, chapel plate, books, linen, which I have been accustomed to wear and use, according to the list annexed (A.) It is my wish that this slight bequest may be dear to him, as recalling the memory of a father, of whom the universe will discourse to him. 2. I bequeath to Lady Holland the antique cameo which Pope Pius VI. gave me at Tolentino. 3. I bequeath to Count Montholon two millions of francs, as a proof of my satisfaction with the filial attentions which he has paid to me during six years, and as an indemnity for the losses which his residence at St. Helena has occasioned. 4. I bequeath to Count Bertrand five hundred thousand francs. 5. I bequeath to Marchand, my first valet-de-chambre, four hundred thousand francs. The services which he has rendered to me are those of a friend; it is my wish that he should marry the widow, sister, or daughter of an officer of my old guard. 6. Item, To St. Denis, one hundred thousand francs. 7. Item, To Novarre, one hundred thousand francs. 8. Item, To Pieron, one hundred thousand francs. 9. Item, To Archambaud, fifty thousand francs. 10. Item, To Cursor, twenty-five thousand francs. 11. Item, to Chandellier, item. 12. Item, to the Abbé Vignali, one hundred thousand francs. It is my wish that he should build his house near the Ponte nuovo di Costino. 13. Item, To Count Las Cases, one hundred thousand francs. 14. Item, To Count Lavalette, one hundred thousand francs. 15. Item, To Larrey, surgeon-in-chief, one hundred thousand francs.--He is the most virtuous man I have known. 16. Item, To General Brayher, one hundred thousand francs. 17. Item, To General Le Fevre Deshouettes, one hundred thousand francs. 18. Item, To General Drouot, one hundred thousand francs. 19. Item, To General Cambrone, one hundred thousand francs. 20. Item, To the children of General Mouton Duvernet, one hundred thousand francs. 21. Item, To the children of the brave Labédoyère, one hundred thousand francs. 22. Item, To the children of General Girard, killed at Ligny, one hundred thousand francs. 23. Item, To the children of General Marchand, one hundred thousand francs. 24. Item, To the children of the virtuous General Travost, one hundred thousand francs. 25. Item, To General Lallemand the elder, one hundred thousand francs. 26. Item, To Count Real, one hundred thousand francs. 27. Item, To Costa de Basilica, in Corsica, one hundred thousand francs. 28. Item, To General Clausel, one hundred thousand francs. 29. Item, To Baron de Menevalle, one hundred thousand francs. 30. Item, To Arnault, the author of Marius, one hundred thousand francs. 31. Item, To Colonel Marbot, one hundred thousand francs.--I engage him to continue to write in defence of the glory of the French armies, and to confound their calumniators and apostates. 32. Item, To Baron Bignon, one hundred thousand francs.--I engage him to write the history of French diplomacy, from 1792 to 1815. 33. Item, To Poggi di Talavo, one hundred thousand francs. 34. Item, To surgeon Emmery, one hundred thousand francs. 35. These sums will be raised from the six millions which I deposited on leaving Paris in 1815; and from the interest, at the rate of five per cent., since July 1815. The account will be settled with the banker by Counts Montholon, Bertrand, and Marchand. 36. Whatever that deposit may produce beyond the sum of five million six hundred thousand francs, which have been above disposed of, shall be distributed as a gratuity amongst the wounded at the battle of Waterloo, and amongst the officers and soldiers of the battalion of the Isle of Elba, according to a scale to be determined upon by Montholon, Bertrand, Drouot, Cambrone, and the surgeon Larrey. 37. These legacies, in case of death, shall be paid to the widows and children, and in default of such, shall revert to the bulk of my property.

III.

1. My private domain being my property, of which no French law deprives me, that I am aware of, an account of it will be required from the Baron de la Bouillerie, the treasurer thereof; it ought to amount to more than 200,000,000 of francs; namely, 1. The portfolio containing the savings which I made during fourteen years out of my civil list, which amounted to more than 12,000,000 per annum, if my memory be good. 2. The produce of this portfolio. 3. The furniture of my palaces, such as it was in 1814, including the palaces of Rome, Florence, and Turin. All this furniture was purchased with moneys accruing from the civil list. 4. The proceeds of my houses in the kingdom of Italy, such as money, plate, jewels, furniture, equipages; the accounts will be rendered by Prince Eugene, and the steward of the crown, Campagnoni.

NAPOLEON

2. I bequeath my private domain, one half to the surviving officers and soldiers of the French army who have fought since 1792 to 1815, for the glory and the independence of the nation. The distribution shall be made in proportion to their appointments upon active service. One half to the towns and districts of Alsace, of Lorraine, of Franche Compté, of Burgundy, of the isle of France, of Champagne Forest, Dauphiné, which may have suffered by either of the invasions. There shall be previously deducted from this sum, one million for the town of Brienne, and one million for that of Meri. I appoint Counts Montholon, Bertrand, and Marchand, the executors of my will.

This present will, wholly written with my own hand, is signed, and sealed with my own arms.

(L. S.) NAPOLEON.

LIST (A.)

AFFIXED TO MY WILL.

_Longwood, Island of St. Helena, this 15th April 1821._

I.

1. The consecrated vessels which have been in use at my chapel at Longwood. 2. I enjoin the Abbé Vignali to preserve them, and to deliver them to my son, when he shall reach the age of sixteen years.

II.

1. My arms, that is to say, my sword, that which I wore at Austerlitz, the sabre of Sobieski, my dagger, my broad sword, my hanger, my two pair of Versailles pistols. 2. My gold travelling box, that of which I made use on the morning of Ulm and of Austerlitz, of Jena, of Eylau, of Friedland, of the island of Lobau, of Moscow, of Monmirail. In this point of view, it is my wish that it may be precious in the eyes of my son. (It has been deposited with Count Bertrand since 1814.) 3. I charge Count Bertrand with the care of preserving these objects, and of conveying them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years.

III.

1. Three small mahogany boxes, containing, the first, thirty-three snuff-boxes, or comfit-boxes; the second, twelve boxes, with the Imperial arms, two small eye-glasses, and four boxes found on the table of Louis XVIII., in the Tuileries, on the 20th of March, 1815; the third, three snuff-boxes, ornamented with silver medals, according to the custom of the Emperor; and sundry articles for the use of the toilet, according to the lists numbered I., II., III. 2. My field-beds, which I used in all my campaigns. 3. My field telescope. 4. My dressing-box, one of each of my uniforms, a dozen of shirts, and a complete set of each of my dresses, and generally of every thing used in my toilet. 5. My wash-hand stand. 6. A small clock which is in my chamber at Longwood. 7. My two watches, and the chain of the Empress's hair. 8. I charge Marchand, my principal valet-de-chambre, to take care of these articles, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years.

IV.

1. My cabinet of medals. 2. My plate, and my Sevres china, which I used at St. Helena. (List B and C.) 3. I charge Count Montholon to take care of these articles, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years.

V.

1. My three saddles and bridles, my spurs, which I used at St. Helena. 2. My fowling-pieces, to the number of five. 3. I charge my huntsman, Novarre, to take care of these articles, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years.

VI.

1. Four hundred volumes, selected from those in my library, which I have been accustomed to use the most. 2. I charge St. Denis to take care of them, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years.

LIST (A.)

1. None of the articles which have been used by me shall be sold: the residue shall be divided amongst the executors of my will and my brothers. 2. Marchand shall preserve my hair, and cause a bracelet to be made of it, with a gold clasp, to be sent to the Empress Marie Louise, to my mother, and to each of my brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, the cardinal, and one of larger size for my son. 3. Marchand will send one pair of my gold shoe-buckles to Prince Joseph. 4. A small pair of gold knee-buckles to Prince Lucien. 5. A gold collar-clasp to Prince Jerome.

LIST (A.)

_Inventory of my Effects, which Marchand will take care of, and convey to my Son._

1. My silver dressing-box, that which is on my table, furnished with all its utensils, razors, &c. 2. My alarm-clock: it is the alarm-clock of Frederick II. which I took at Potsdam (in box No. III.) 3. My two watches, with the chain of the Empress's hair, and a chain of my own hair for the other watch: Marchand will get it made at Paris. 4. My two seals (one French,) contained in box No. III. 5. The small gold clock which is now in my bed-chamber. 6. My wash-stand, its water-jug and foot-bath, &c. 7. My night-table, that which I used in France, and my silver-gilt bidet. 8. My two iron bedsteads, my mattresses, and my coverlets if they can be preserved. 9. My three silver decanters, which held my eau de vie, which my chasseurs carried in the field. 10. My French telescope. 11. My spurs, two pair. 12. Three mahogany boxes, No. I., II., III., containing my snuff-boxes, and other articles. 13. A silver-gilt perfuming-pan.

_Body Linen._

6 shirts, 6 handkerchiefs, 6 cravats, 6 napkins, 6 pair of silk stockings, 6 black stocks, 6 pair of under stockings, 2 pair of cambric sheets, 2 pillow cases, 2 dressing gowns, 2 pair of night drawers, 1 pair of braces, 4 pair of white kerseymere breeches and vests, 6 madras, 6 flannel waistcoats, 6 pair of drawers, 6 pair of gaiters, 1 small box filled with my snuff, [1 gold neck-buckle, 1 pair gold knee-buckles, 1 pair gold shoe-buckles, contained in the little box, No. III.]

_Clothes._

1 Uniform of the chasseurs, 1 ditto grenadiers, 1 ditto national guards, 2 hats, 1 green-and-grey great coat, 1 blue cloak (that which I had at Marengo,) 1 sable green pelisse, 2 pair of shoes, 2 pair of boots, 2 pair of slippers, 6 belts.

NAPOLEON.

LIST (B.)

_Inventory of the Effects which I left in possession of Monsieur the Count de Turenne._

1. Sabre of Sobieski. It is by mistake inserted in List A. It is the sabre which the Emperor wore at Aboukir, which is in the hands of the Count Bertrand. 1 grand collar of the legion of honour, 1 sword, of silver gilt, 1 consular sword, 1 sword, of steel, 1 velvet belt, 1 collar of the golden fleece, 1 small travelling box of steel, 1 ditto of silver, 1 handle of an antique sabre, 1 hat of Henry IV., and a cap, the lace of the Emperor, 1 small cabinet of medals, 2 turkey carpets, 2 mantles, of crimson velvet, embroidered, with vests and small-clothes.

I give to my son the sabre of Sobieski.

Do. the collar of the legion of honour. Do. the sword, silver gilt. Do. the consular sword. Do. the steel sword. Do. the collar of the golden fleece. Do. the hat of Henry IV. and the cap. Do. the golden dressing-box for the teeth, which is in the hands of the dentist.

To the Empress Marie Louise, my lace.

To Madame, the silver night-lamp.

To the Cardinal, the small steel travelling-box.

To Prince Eugene, the wax candlestick, silver gilt.

To the Princess Pauline, the small travelling-box.

To the Queen of Naples, a small Turkey carpet.

To the Queen Hortense, a small Turkey carpet.

To Prince Jerome, the handle of the antique sabre.

To Prince Joseph, an embroidered mantle, vest, and small-clothes.

To Prince Lucien, an embroidered mantle, vest, and small-clothes.

_April 16th, 1821. Longwood._

_This is a Codicil to my Will._

1. It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I loved so well. 2. I bequeath to Counts Bertrand, Montholon, and to Marchand, the money, jewels, plate, china, furniture, books, arms, and generally every thing that belongs to me in the island of St. Helena. This codicil, entirely written with my own hand, is signed, and sealed with my own arms.

(L. S.) NAPOLEON.

_This 24th April, 1821. Longwood._

_This is my Codicil or Note of my last Will._

Out of the settlement of my civil list of Italy, such as money, jewels, plate, linen, equipages, of which the Viceroy is the depositary, and which belonged to me, I dispose of two millions, which I bequeath to my most faithful servants. I hope that, without acting upon the credit of any account, my son, Eugene Napoleon, will pay them faithfully. He cannot forget the forty millions which I gave him in Italy, and in the distribution of the inheritance of his mother.

1. Out of these two millions, I bequeath to Count Bertrand, 300,000 francs, of which he will deposit 100,000 in the treasurer's chest, to be disposed of according to my dispositions, in payment of legacies of conscience. 2. To Count Montholon, 200,000 francs, of which he will deposit 100,000 in the chest, for the same purpose as above mentioned. 3. To Count Las Cases, 200,000, of which he will deposit 100,000 in the chest, for the same purpose as above mentioned. 4. To Marchand, 100,000, of which he will deposit 50,000 in the chest, for the same purpose as above mentioned. 5. To Count Lavalette, 100,000. 6. To General Hogendorf, of Holland, my aide-de-camp, who has retired to the Brazils, 100,000. 7. To my aide-de-camp, Corbineau, 50,000. 8. To my aide-de-camp, General Caffarelli, 50,000 francs. 9. To my aide-de-camp, Dejean, 50,000. 10. To Percy, surgeon-in-chief at Waterloo, 50,000. 11. 50,000, that is to say, 10,000 to Pieron, my maître d'hôtel; 10,000 to St. Denis, my head chasseur; 10,000 to Novarre; 10,000 to Cursor, my clerk of the kitchen; 10,000 to Archambaud, my overseer. 12. To Baron Mainevalle, 50,000. 13. To the Duke d'Istria, son of Bessières, 50,000 francs. 14. To the daughter of Duroc, 50,000 francs. 15. To the children of Labédoyère, 50,000. 16. To the children of Mouton Duvernet, 50,000. 17. To the children of the brave and virtuous General Travost, 50,000. 18. To the children of Chartrand, 50,000. 19. To General Cambrone, 50,000. 20. To General Lefevre Desnouettes, 50,000. 21. To be distributed amongst such proscribed persons as wander in foreign countries, whether they may be French, or Italian, or Belgians, or Dutch, or Spanish, or inhabitants of the departments of the Rhine, at the disposal of my executors, 100,000. 22. To be distributed amongst those who suffered amputation, or were severely wounded at Ligny, or Waterloo, who may be still living, according to lists drawn up by my executors, to whom shall be added, Cambrone, Larrey, Percy, and Emmery. The guard shall be paid double; those of the island of Elba, quadruple; 200,000 francs.

This codicil is written entirely with my own hand, signed, and sealed with my arms.

NAPOLEON.

_This 24th of April, 1821, at Longwood._

_This is a third Codicil to my Will of the 16th of April._

1. Amongst the diamonds of the crown which were delivered up in 1814, there were some to the value of five or six hundred thousand francs, not belonging to it, but which formed part of my private property; repossession shall be obtained of them, in order to discharge my legacies. 2. I had in the hands of the banker Torlonia, at Rome, bills of exchange to the amount of two or three hundred thousand francs, the produce of my revenues of the island of Elba, since 1815. The Sieur De La Perouse, although no longer my treasurer, and not invested with any character, possessed himself of this sum. He shall be compelled to restore it. 3. I bequeath to the Duke of Istria three hundred thousand francs, of which only one hundred thousand francs shall be reversible to his widow, should the duke be dead at the payment of the legacy. It is my wish, should there be no inconvenience in it, that the duke may marry Duroc's daughter. 4. I bequeath to the Duchess of Frioul, the daughter of Duroc, two hundred thousand francs: should she be dead at the payment of this legacy, none of it shall be given to the mother. 5. I bequeath to General Rigaud (to him who was proscribed,) one hundred thousand francs. 6. I bequeath to Boisnod, the intendant commissary, one hundred thousand francs. 7. I bequeath to the children of General Letort, who was killed in the campaign of 1815, one hundred thousand francs. 8. These eight hundred thousand francs of legacies shall be considered as if inserted at the end of Article xxxvi. of my testament, which will make the legacies which I have disposed of, by my will, amount to the sum of six million four hundred thousand francs, without comprising the donations which I have made by my second codicil.

This is written with my own hand, signed, and sealed with my arms.

(L. S.) NAPOLEON.

[On the outside, nearly at the centre, is written:]

This is my third codicil to my will, entirely written with my own hand, signed, and sealed with my arms.

[The words are intermixed with the signatures of Bertrand, Montholon, Marchand, Vignali, with their respective seals, and a piece of green silk runs through the centre. On the upper left corner are the following directions:]

To be opened the same day, and immediately after the opening of my will.

NAPOLEON.

[With some fragments of the signatures of the above-named witnesses.]

_This 24th April, 1821. Longwood._

_This is a fourth Codicil to my Testament._

By the dispositions which we have heretofore made, we have not fulfilled all our obligations; which has decided us to make this fourth codicil.

1. We bequeath to the son or grandson of Baron Dutheil, lieutenant-general of artillery, and formerly lord of St. André, who commanded the school of Auxonne before the Revolution, the sum of one hundred thousand francs, as a memento of gratitude for the care which that brave general took of us when we were lieutenant and captain under his orders.

2. Item. To the son or grandson of General Dugomier, who commanded in chief the army of Toulon, the sum of one hundred thousand francs. We under his orders directed that siege, and commanded the artillery; it is a testimonial of remembrance for the marks of esteem, of affection, and of friendship, which that brave and intrepid general gave us.

3. Item. We bequeath one hundred thousand francs to the son or grandson of the deputy of the Convention, Gasparin, representative of the people at the army of Toulon, for having protected and sanctioned with his authority, the plan which we had given, which procured the capture of that city, and which was contrary to that sent by the Committee of Public Safety. Gasparin placed us, by his protection, under shelter from the persecution and ignorance of the general officers who commanded the army before the arrival of my friend Dugomier.

4. Item. We bequeath one hundred thousand francs to the widow, son, or grandson, of our aide-de-camp, Muiron, killed at our side at Arcola, covering us with his body.

5. Item. Ten thousand francs to the subaltern officer Cantillon, who has undergone a trial, upon the charge of having endeavoured to assassinate Lord Wellington, of which he was pronounced innocent. Cantillon had as much right to assassinate that _oligarchist_, as the latter had to send me to perish upon the rock of St. Helena. Wellington, who proposed this outrage, attempted to justify himself by pleading the interest of Great Britain. Cantillon, if he had really assassinated that lord, would have excused himself, and have been justified by the same motives, the interest of France, to get rid of a general, who, moreover, had violated the capitulation of Paris, and by that had rendered himself responsible for the blood of the martyrs Ney, Labédoyère, &c.; and for the crime of having pillaged the museums, contrary to the text of the treaties.

6. These four hundred thousand francs shall be added to the six million four hundred thousand of which we have disposed, and will make our legacies amount to six million eight hundred and ten thousand francs; these four hundred and ten thousand are to be considered as forming part of our testament, article 36; and to follow in every thing the same course as the other legacies.

7. The nine thousand pounds sterling which we gave to Count and Countess Montholon, should, if they have been paid, be deducted and carried to the account of the legacies which we have given to him by our testament. If they have not been paid, our notes of hand shall be annulled.

8. In consideration of the legacy given by our will to Count Montholon, the pension of twenty thousand francs granted to his wife, is annulled. Count Montholon is charged to pay it to her.

9. The administration of such an inheritance, until its final liquidation, requiring expenses of offices, of journeys, of missions, of consultations, and of law-suits, we expect that our testamentary executors shall retain three per cent upon all the legacies, as well upon the six million eight hundred thousand francs, as upon the sums contained in the codicils, and upon the two millions of the private domain.

10. The amount of the same thus retained, shall be deposited in the hands of a treasurer, and disbursed by drafts from our testamentary executors.

11. If the sums arising from the aforesaid deductions be not sufficient to defray the expenses, provision shall be made to that effect, at the expense of the three testamentary executors and the treasurer, each in proportion to the legacy which we have bequeathed to them in our will and codicils.

12. Should the sums arising from the before-mentioned subtractions be more than necessary, the surplus shall be divided amongst our three testamentary executors and the treasurer, in the proportion of their respective legacies.

13. We nominate Count Las Cases, and in default of him, his son, and in default of the latter, General Drouot, to be treasurer.

This present codicil is entirely written with our hand, signed, and sealed with our arms.

NAPOLEON

_This 24th of April, 1821. Longwood._

_This is my Codicil or Act of my last Will._

Upon the funds remitted in gold to the Empress Maria Louise, my very dear and well-beloved spouse, at Orleans, in 1814, she remains in my debt two millions, of which I dispose by the present codicil, for the purpose of recompensing my most faithful servants, whom moreover I recommend to the protection of my dear Marie Louise.

1. I recommend to the empress to cause the income of thirty thousand francs, which Count Bertrand possessed in the duchy of Parma, and upon the Mont Napoleon at Milan, to be restored to him, as well as the arrears due.

2. I make the same recommendation to her with regard to the Duke of Istria, Duroc's daughter, and others of my servants who have continued faithful to me, and who are always dear to me. She knows them.

3. Out of the above-mentioned two millions, I bequeath three hundred thousand francs to Count Bertrand, of which he will lodge one hundred thousand in the treasurer's chest, to be employed in legacies of conscience, according to my dispositions.

4. I bequeath two hundred thousand to Count Montholon, of which he will lodge one hundred thousand in the treasurer's chest, for the same purpose as above-mentioned.

5. Item, Two hundred thousand to Count Las Cases, of which he will lodge one hundred thousand in the treasurer's chest, for the same purpose as above-mentioned.

6. Item, To Marchand, one hundred thousand, of which he will place fifty thousand in the treasurer's chest, for the same purpose as above-mentioned.

7. To Jean Jerome Levie, the mayor of Ajaccio at the commencement of the Revolution, or to his widow, children, or grand-children, one hundred thousand francs.

8. To Duroc's daughter, one hundred thousand.

9. To the son of Bessières, Duke of Istria, one hundred thousand.

10. To General Drouot, one hundred thousand.

11. To Count Lavalette, one hundred thousand.

12. Item, One hundred thousand; that is to say, twenty-five thousand to Piéron, my maître d'hôtel; twenty-five thousand to Novarre, my huntsman; twenty-five thousand to St. Denis, the keeper of my books; twenty-five thousand to Santini, my former door-keeper.

13. Item, One hundred thousand; that is to say, forty thousand to Planta, my orderly officer; twenty thousand to Hebert, lately housekeeper of Rambouillet, and who belonged to my chamber in Egypt; twenty thousand to Lavigné, who was lately keeper of one of my stables, and who was my jockey in Egypt; twenty thousand to Jeanet Dervieux, who was overseer of the stables, and served in Egypt with me.

14. Two hundred thousand francs shall be distributed in alms to the inhabitants of Brienne-le-Chateau, who have suffered most.

15. The three hundred thousand francs remaining, shall be distributed to the officers and soldiers of my guard at the island of Elba, who may be now alive, or to their widows or children, in proportion to their appointments; and according to an estimate which shall be fixed by my testamentary executors. Those who have suffered amputation, or have been severely wounded, shall receive double: The estimate of it to be fixed by Larrey and Emmery.

This codicil is written entirely with my own hand, signed, and sealed with my arms.

NAPOLEON.

[On the back of the codicil is written:]

This is my codicil, or act of my last will--the execution of which I recommend to my dearest wife, the Empress Marie Louise.

(L. S.) NAPOLEON.

[Attested by the following witnesses, whose seals are respectively affixed:]

MONTHOLON,} BERTRAND, } A piece of green silk. MARCHAND, } VIGNALI. }

_6th Codicil._

Monsieur Lafitte, I remitted to you, in 1815, at the moment of my departure from Paris, a sum of near six millions, for which you have given me a receipt and duplicate. I have cancelled one of the receipts, and I charge Count Montholon to present you with the other receipt, in order that you may pay to him, after my death, the said sum, with interest at the rate of five per cent. from the 1st of July, 1815, deducting the payments which you have been instructed to make by virtue of my orders.

It is my wish that the settlement of your account may be agreed upon between you, Count Montholon, Count Bertrand, and the Sieur Marchand; and this settlement being made, I give you, by these presents, a complete and absolute discharge from the said sum.

I also, at that time, placed in your hands a box, containing my cabinet of medals. I beg you will give it to Count Montholon.

This letter having no other object, I pray God, Monsieur Lafitte, to have you in his holy and good keeping.

NAPOLEON.

_Longwood, Island of St. Helena, the 25th April, 1821._

_7th Codicil._

Monsieur le Baron Labouillerie, treasurer of my private domain, I beg you to deliver the account and the balance, after my death, to Count Montholon, whom I have charged with the execution of my will.

This letter having no other object, I pray God, Monsieur le Baron Labouillerie, to have you in his holy and good keeping.

NAPOLEON.

_Longwood, Island of St. Helena, the 25th April, 1821._

THE END.

FOOTNOTES:

[300] Liv. ix., Mémoires Historiques de Napoleon. London, Sir R. Philips, 1820.--Montholon, Mémoires de Napoleon; Colburn, London, 1823.--Las Cases; London, 2 vols.--Gourgaud, War of 1815; London, 1824.--Many passages in these works will be found quite parallel; for instance, Montholon, vol. ii., pp. 272-289, with Liv. ix., p. 43. Grouchy, p. 4, designates these works from St. Helena, as containing, "des instructions et des ordres supposés; des mouvements imaginaires," &c. &c.; also, "des assertions erronnées, des hypothèses faites après coup;" see also p. 26. P. 22, he says, with justice, of these authors: "Des individus qui se persuadent que l'auréole de gloire d'un grand homme, en les éclairant un moment, les à transformé en d'irrécusables autorités, et ne voyant pas qu'un éclat d'emprunt qui ne se refléchit sur aucun fait d'armes connus, sur aucuns services éminens, ne sert qu'à mieux faire ressortir la présomptueuse impéritie des jugements qu'ils prononcent."

[301] The best account of the campaign is by an anonymous author, C. de W., published at Stutgard, 1817, and is attributed to Baron Muffling. It does honour to its illustrious author, from its candour and manliness, though he naturally wishes to give more effect to the Prussian attack on the 18th, than was actually the case; that is, he brings them into action, with their whole force, considerably too early in the day.

[302] It is well remarked, in Liv. ix., p. 150,--"Ces détails en appartient plus à l'histoire de chaque régiment qu'à l'histoire générale de la bataille."

[303] Rogniat, p. 147, speaking of charges, says,--"S'ils marchent, à la baïonette, ce n'est qu'un simulacre d'attaque: ils ne la croisent jamais avec celle d'un ennemi qu'ils craignent d'aborder, parcequ'ils se sentent sans défence contre ses coups, et l'un de deux partis prend la fuite avant d'en venir aux mains."--Such is the case in all charges.

[304] The salt-water inundation could be raised at Ghent, so as to place the Great Square five feet under water.

[305] Such, however, could only be a desultory attack, for the chaussée by Charleroi and Givet was the nearest entry from France on this side. The country from this to Mayence was then nearly impracticable for large armies. Good roads have since been made through it.

[306] Buonaparte blames the allied generals for not having formed a camp in front of Brussels, as he alleges might have been done in the beginning of May. The wet season, and difficulty of subsisting so large a body of troops, is some reason against it. Besides which, Buonaparte might have made demonstrations in front, and sent 20,000 men from his garrisons to ravage Ghent and the country beyond the Scheldt, and cut off our communications with Ostend. In 1814, when the Prussians were concentrated near Brussels, this had been done with effect from Lisle. Though little advantage might have resulted to the enemy from such a measure, much blame would have been attached for not taking precautions against it. To cover Brussels, the capital of the country, was certainly of great importance; and had that been the only object, a camp in its front would have certainly been the best means of effecting it.

[307] Buonaparte himself has remarked,--"L'unité de commandement est la chose la plus importante dans la guerre."

[308] Buonaparte, Liv. ix., p. 69, rates his force at 122,400 men, and 350 guns. Muffling, p. 17, at 130,000. Other accounts make it smaller, and Batty, 127,400, with 350 guns.

[309] Grouchy, p. 59, speaks of the rapidity with which Blucher assembled his army. It is also adverted to by several French military writers.

[310] Ney might probably have driven back these troops, and occupied the important position at Quatre-Bras; but hearing a heavy cannonade on his right flank, where Ziethen had taken up his position, he thought it necessary to halt, and detach a division in the direction of Fleurus. This brings forward a remarkable case, as he was severely censured by Napoleon for not having literally followed his orders, and pushed on to Quatre-Bras. This was done in the presence of Maréchal Grouchy,--(see Grouchy's Observations)--who gives it as a reason (pp. 32, 33, 61,) for acting in the manner he did on the 18th, and not moving to his left to support Napoleon at Waterloo.

[311] Rogniat, p. 341, says that a great portion of the French army only reached Charleroi late on the 15th, and Fleurus at 11 A.M. on the 16th.--See GROUCHY, p. 36.

[312] Official Despatch; Muffling, pp. 8, 10, 18.

[313] Muffling, p. 17. Yet a story is told of Fouché, who is said to have sent intelligence of Buonaparte's movements to Lord Wellington. The courier was attacked and waylaid, as supposed by Fouché's contrivance, so that he had an excuse ready for both parties.

[314] Muffling, p. 64, allows that the position at Ligny was too much extended to the left, but the object of this was to have a line of communication with the Meuse and Cologne; a fault alluded to as arising from having two armies, and two chiefs, with different objects in view.

[315] Grouchy, p. 47; Gourgaud, Liv. ix., p. 102.

[316] It is hardly to be supposed that an officer of Ney's bold and enterprising character, with so much at stake, would have hesitated to attack at Quatre-Bras, if he had had his troops in readiness; but it appears that he could not have had time to move to that point at the early hour stated by Buonaparte. Ney had, also, too much experience of the nature of the troops he was opposed to, to act rashly.

[317] The French did not attack until three P.M., the different corps not being arrived to make the necessary arrangements at an earlier hour.--GROUCHY, p. 36; ROGNIAT, p. 341.

[318] Ney's Letter to the Duc d'Otranto. Paris, 1815.--Muffling, p. 14.

[319] Muffling, pp. 15-64.--Blucher had employed his reserves to support his right at St. Amand, and was not prepared for this change of attack. Muffling, however, considers, that, instead of his cavalry, had he moved his infantry from St. Amand to retake Ligny, he would have succeeded and gained the action.

[320] Grouchy, p. 10, shows how little decisive the battle was. "La bataille de Ligny n'a fini que vers la neuf heure de soir, seulement alors la retraite des Prussiens a été présumée."

[321] Here it was that Blucher was so nearly falling into the hands of the French cavalry.

[322] Grouchy, p. 11, says, that, even on the 17th, it was supposed the Prussians had retired upon Namur, so feebly were they followed; the light cavalry of General Pajot pursued them in this direction on the 17th, captured a few guns, which, with some stragglers, as are found in all armies, was his whole success.

[323] The St. Helena productions raise the amount to 20,000 men, 40 guns, standards, &c. See Grouchy, pp. 48, 49.--Montholon says they lost 60,000.--Liv. x., 148, says, that the Prussian army was reduced to 40,000 men by the loss they had sustained; 30,000 men killed and wounded, and 20,000 men, who had disbanded and ravaged the banks of the Meuse, and by the detachments sent to cover their retreat, and that of the baggage, in the direction of Namur.

[324] The intention of the allied maréchals to remain together, whatever might be the issue, is known. Lord Wellington had ordered the inundations of Antwerp to be effected to their utmost extent. The fortresses were to have been abandoned to their own strength, and had the events of the 16th been such as to necessitate a retreat, and give up Brussels, Maestricht is probably the point on which both armies would have retired.

[325] Had earlier or more positive information of the enemy's plans been received by Lord Wellington, and the troops put in movement on the evening of the 15th, the combinations of the two allied chiefs would have been perfect. Nothing more is necessary to show how well their plans had been laid, but which were not carried into full effect, by one of those accidental occurrences which no human foresight can prevent.

[326] Liv. ix., p. 103. Buonaparte says, that Ney attacked with 16,000 infantry, 3000 cavalry, and 44 guns, leaving 16,000 infantry, 4500 cavalry, and 64 guns, in reserve at Frasnes.

[327] This belonged to the 69th regiment, not to the 42d, as Liv. ix. states, p. 104, and was almost the only one captured during the whole war. It may here be remarked, that if the French had carried one quarter the number of eagles with their regiments that we have of colours, a much larger proportion would now be found at Whitehall. A weak battalion of English infantry always carries two large colours, very heavy and inconvenient, whilst a French eagle, about the size of a blackbird, was only given to a regiment composed of several battalions, which was easily secured in case of defeat.

[328] Liv. ix., p. 60. Buonaparte remarks, that the numbers of the allied army must not be rated at their numerical force. "Parceque l'armée des alliés étoit composée de troups plus ou moins bonnes. Un Anglois pourrait être compté pour un Français; et deux Hollandais, Prussiens, ou hommes de la confédération, pour un Français. Les armées ennemies étoient cantonnées sous le commandement de deux Généraux différents, et formées de deux nations divisées d'intérêts et de sentiments." His army, on the contrary, was under one chief, the idol of his soldiers, who were of the best description--veterans who had fought in the brilliant campaign of 1813-14, and draughts from the numerous garrisons who had since entered France from Antwerp, Hamburg, Magdeburg, Dantzic, Mayence, Alexandria, Mantua, &c., with the numerous prisoners from England. Liv. ix., p. 201.

[329] Three brigades of iron eighteen-pounders were preparing at Brussels, but not in a state of forwardness to be sent to Waterloo.

[330] Muffling, p. 20, says, "that Blucher only asked for time to distribute food and cartridges to his men."

[331] Montholon, vii., p. 134; Liv. ix., pp. 123-207; Gourgaud, p. 131.

[332] See Liv. ix., p. 196. "Ainsi à cinq heures après midi, l'armée se trouva sans avoir une reserve de cavalerie. Si, à huit heures et demi, cette reserve eut existée," &c. &c. It is singular how great soldiers, in reporting military actions, will contradict each other. Napoleon ascribes the loss of the battle in great measure to his cavalry being so soon and generally engaged, that he had not a reserve left to protect his retreat. General Foy, on the contrary, affirms, that it was not the French, but the British cavalry, which was annihilated at Waterloo.--_Guerre de la Péninsule_, p. 116. _Note._

[333] On the 16th, at Quatre-Bras, the 33d regiment (British,) and afterwards two battalions of the Guards, when obliged to give way to an attack of the enemy, and pursued by the French cavalry, saved themselves in the wood of Bossu, formed along the skirts of it, and repelled the enemy with severe loss.

[334] The armies were now placed under their favourite commanders, as the military of both nations had long wished; and on an arena which may be considered as fair a one as could well have offered in the chances of war. The British troops, however, were not composed of our best regiments, at least our infantry, nor equal to that army which had been in the preceding year in the south of France. Many of the most efficient regiments had been sent to America; first a brigade from Bourdeaux to Washington; another to Canada: and afterwards a force from Portsmouth to New Orleans. None of those returned in time for Waterloo, though they were _on their way_.--Liv. ix., p. 208. It has been shown how the French army was composed.

[335] Buonaparte, liv. ix., 142, says, that he saw with pleasure that the English guards were placed on our right, as they were our best troops, which rendered his premeditated attack on our left more easy. Our guards are not, as is the case in other armies, the élite of our army; they are not selected, as in other services, from the best soldiers in other regiments, but are recruited exactly as troops of the line, except that they are required to be somewhat taller. It may be here remarked, the great superiority in _appearance_, that the French and other troops possessed over ours at the close of the war. The mode of recruiting accounts for this. Even our militia were much superior in this point of view to the troops of the line, and most of the best men were obtained from them. Our recruits were in general composed of the population of large cities, or of manufacturing towns, certainly not the best specimens of our population; the military service is not in any estimation amongst our peasantry, whilst the French army was composed of the picked men of thirty millions, and other nations in proportion.

[336] Rogniat, p. 231, blames both generals for the too early employment of their cavalry. In the case here mentioned, he says, the success was "contre toute probabilité," as the cavalry charged unbroken infantry. The head of the attacking columns had, however, been already shaken by the charge of the 92d regiment, which took place nearly at the moment the cavalry charged.

[337] Muffling, p. 26, observes, "La fumée étoit si épaisse que personne ne voyoit l'ensemble de l'action."

[338] Liv. ix., p. 209. Buonaparte says, "L'infanterie Anglaise a été ferme et solide. La cavalerie pouvait mieux faire."

[339] Rogniat, p. 231, says they amounted to 12,000, including other heavy cavalry.

[340] The cavalry came up to one of the squares at a trot, and appeared to be hanging back, as if expecting our fire; they closed round two sides of it, having a front of seventy or eighty men, and came so close to one angle, that they appeared to try to reach over the bayonets with their swords. The squares were generally formed four deep, rounded at the angles: on the approach of the cavalry, two files fired, the others reserving their fire; the cavalry then turned, and it is not easy to believe how few fell,--only one officer and two men; no doubt many were wounded, but did not fall from their horses. Many squares fired at the distance of thirty paces, with no other effect. In fact, our troops fired too high, which must have been noticed by the most casual observer.

[341] It has been said, that if the enemy had brought up infantry and light artillery, our squares must have given way. This would no doubt have been preferable: but then our reserve and cavalry would have been moved forward to check the cavalry, and the squares would have probably repelled the attack of the infantry. The enemy had tried to bring guns with the attacking columns, on our left, early in the day; the consequence was, that the horses were killed before they had advanced far, so that they could not follow the movements of the infantry, and were left behind. A similar attempt was made in the south of France, in the attack of Lord Hill's corps on the Nive; the guns were harnessed, so as to allow them to fire as they advanced, but the horses were soon killed or disabled, and the guns were abandoned when the attack was repulsed.

[342] This was what Marmont had done at the Aripiles, at the battle of Salamanca, and for which he suffered so severely.

[343] Muffling, p. 27, says, after this attack, which he states to be at four o'clock, "La bataille avoit été très sanglante, mais il n'y avoit point de danger pour l'armée Anglaise." He says it was then five o'clock.

[344] See Muffling, p. 32, who makes the number amount to 10,000, and there is little doubt but that he is correct. A regiment of allied cavalry, whose uniform resembled the French, having fled to Brussels, an alarm spread that the enemy were at the gates. Numbers of those who had quitted the field of battle, and, let the truth be spoken, Englishmen too, fled from the town, and never halted until they reached Antwerp. This fact is too well attested to be doubted.

[345] Muffling, p. 29. At four o'clock, he says, "Il n'avoit pas encore paru un homme de cette armée."

[346] See Soult's letter to Grouchy, dated from the field of battle, at one o'clock.

[347] Liv. ix., p. 175. Buonaparte says it was seven o'clock when Lobau repulsed them.

[348] Of these, about 12,700 were cavalry.

[349] Liv. ix., p. 193. This force is stated "4 à 5000 hommes."

[350] Muffling, p. 58, mentions, that Buonaparte stated to some general officer on the morning of the 18th, that he had 75,000 men, and the English only 50,000. Liv. ix., p. 193, by taking Buonaparte's own account in this part of the book, upon calculation it will be seen that he there allows that he had upwards of 74,000.

[351] See Muffling, pp. 22, 31, 62. Gourgaud, pp. 98 and 99, says it was half-past four when General Dumont informed Buonaparte of their arrival.

[352] Liv. ix., pp. 168, 169, Buonaparte makes Bulow's attack after sunset.

[353] Muffling, p. 62, says, it was hoped the Prussian army could have attacked at two o'clock, but that it was half-past four before a cannon was fired by them.

[354] Liv. ix., p. 167, Ney's letter.

[355] See Lord Wellington's dispatches.

[356] Gneisnau says, it was half-past seven o'clock before Pirch's corps arrived.--See Blucher's dispatches.

[357] Liv. ix. says it was eleven o'clock when the Prussians joined. Gourgaud and Montholon copy this. The letter from Soult to Grouchy, dated half-past one o'clock, stating that they were informed by a prisoner of Bulow's march, and that they thought they discovered his advanced posts at that hour, completely contradicts this.--Liv. ix.

[358] Muffling, p. 61. "Il ne s'agit pas de savoir ce qu'un général ordinaire auroit fait; mais une nouvelle de cette nature auroit pu entraîner le général le plus distingué à prendre des precautions, ou la resolution de changer l'offensive vigoureuse en simple demonstration."