Guilt of Napoleon in executing the Duke d'Enghien.

bay of Naples. Savary, on the march back to Paris, met Réal, who was going, he said, to Vincennes, to interrogate the Duke d'Enghien, and who seemed to be confounded at so prompt an execution. They both proceeded rapidly, without going through Paris, to Malmaison, to acquaint the First Consul with the event.

There has since been grounded-upon this hypothesis of Réal going too late to Vincennes, owing to a fatally prolonged sleep, and to a confusion of orders imperfectly understood—a system of excuses which would throw upon chance the whole crime of such a death. It is impossible to argue such a point, or to believe it. This system may exonerate Réal, but it cannot absolve the First Consul. How could they have made so many preparations, and crowded so many instruments of judgment and of execution into one single night, if the condemnation and death of the prince had not been determined upon? Was the life or death of the last of the Condés (carried off by an armed force, and murdered in a ditch,) which was to astonish and agitate all Europe, so trifling an event in the fame and the political career of Bonaparte, on the point of ascending a throne, that he should permit an aide-de-camp like Savary to deceive with impunity either his justice or his clemency? Was Bonaparte a man likely to permit others to shed, unknown to him, the blood of such a person? And if they had done so, would he have accepted the odious responsibility of it? Would he have tolerated and rewarded the authors of such

a crime? No! everything indicates that he hastened the execution with a concealed hand; and that he only wished to leave floating over the transaction a species of uncertain chance, which might have disconcerted his clemency, in order to enjoy, at the same time, the advantages of the death and the popu larity of the pardon.

Savary first arrived at Malmaison. The First Consul, who was not a man of early habits, had passed a sleepless night of anxiety, and perhaps of remorse. He was already in his cabinet, with his secretary Menneval, at daybreak. Savary made his report of the night's proceedings, and mentioned his tardy meeting with Réal on his return. Réal then entered, and in

Y

Arrival of the Princess Charlotte at Vincennes.

his history recounted the misunderstanding, whether accidental or intentional, which had prevented him from arriving in time at Vincennes. Instead of the explosion of reproaches, of indignation and of anger, that such an execution should call forth from such a soul, on learning that they had stained his memory and annihilated his virtue, the First Consul listened to them in silence, without any sign of emotion or sorrow, and only said, ""Tis well!" From that time he extended his favours, and never ceased to load them with wealth and honours.

XX.

The following day, at the moment when the commandant Harel was passing over the drawbridge of the castle, to settle the account of the inn-keeper of Vincennes, who had supplied the supper of the Duke d'Enghien, a post-coach with four horses, in which were a young lady and an old gentleman, stopped at the inn door, where they inquired if a prisoner of distinction had not been shut up the evening before in the fortress. On a reply in the affirmative, from the boy who had served the supper of the prince, but who was ignorant of his name, the young lady and her companion got out of the carriage, and looked for a long time, with moistened eyes, upon the donjon and towers of the castle. A rumour afterwards spread about that it was the Princess Charlotte, hastening from the borders of the Rhine to implore a pardon for him that she loved, or to share with him his prison. She only arived in Paris in time to learn his death, and to mourn their eternal separation.

XXI.

The First Consul had said, " "Tis well!" But conscience, equity, and humanity protest alike against this satisfaction of a murderer who applauds himself. He claimed this crime to himself alone, in his revelations at Saint Helena. Let him then keep it all to himself! He has mowed down millions of men by the hand of war; and mad humanity, partial against itself for what it calls glory, has pardoned him. He has slain

Reflections on Napoleon and the murder of the Duke d'Enghien.

one alone cruelly, like a coward, in the dark, by the consciences of prevaricating judges, and by the balls of mercenary executioners, without risking his own breast, not as a warrior, but even as a murderer. Neither mankind nor history will ever pardon him this spilling of blood. A tomb has been raised to him under the dome built by Louis XIV. at the palace of the Invalids, where the statues of twelve victories, hewn out from one single block of granite, harmonizing with the massy pillars which support the lofty edifice, seem to stand the sentinels of ages around the urn of porphyry which contains his bones. But there is in the shade, and seated on his sepulchre, an invisible statue which tarnishes and blights all the others,—the statue of a young man, torn by hired nocturnal assassins, from the arms of her he loved, from the inviolable asylum in which he confided, and slaughtered by the light of a lantern at the foot of the palace of his sires. People go to visit, with a cold curiosity, the battle-fields of Marengo, of Austerlitz, of Wagram, of Leipsic, and of Waterloo; they walk over them with dry eyes; then they are shown, at the angle of a wall, round the foundations of Vincennes, at the bottom of a trench, a place covered with nettles and marshmallows, and they exclaim" It is there!" With a cry of indignation they carry from the spot an eternal pity for the victim, and an implacable resentment against the assassin !

This resentment is a vengeance for the past; but it is also a lesson for the future. Let the ambitious, whether soldiers, tribunes, or kings, reflect, that if there are mercenary soldiers to serve them, and flatterers to excuse them while they reign, there is the conscience of humanity afterwards, to judge them, and pity to detest them. The murderer has but his hour,the victim has all eternity!

BOOK THIRTEENTH.

The Bourbons quit England-Indifference of the French and the Allies towards the Bourbons in January, 1814-The Count d'Artois enters France-His situation in the midst of the Allies-The Duke d'Angoulême disembarks in Spain-His proclamations-Order of the day of Marshal Soult-Attitude of Wellington-Royalist conspiracy at Bordeaux-The Duke d'Angoulême enters Bordeaux-The Duke de ́ Berry at Jersey-State of the Royalist parties at Paris-Discussions between the Senate and the Abbé de Montesquiou, Commissioner of Louis XVIII.-Recognition of Louis XVIII. as King of France by the Senate, April 6, 1814-Departure of the Count d'Artois from Nancy -His entry into Paris-The Senate recognises him as Lieutenantgeneral of the kingdom-Reception of the Senate and the Legislative Body by the Count d'Artois-He nominates a Council of government -M. de Vitrolles-Convention of 23rd of April-Deputation of the Count de Bruges and of Pozzo di Borgo to Louis XVIII.-Departure of Louis XVIII. from Hartwell, 18th April-His entry into London -His arrival at Dover-His speech to the Prince Regent-He sails for France, and disembarks at Calais-He passes through Boulogne, Montreuil, Abbeville, and Amiens-His halt at Compiègne-Deputation of the Marshals of Napoleon-Speech of Berthier-Deputation of the Legislative Body-Conference of Louis XVIII. with the Emperor Alexander-The Emperor of Austria and the King of Prussia arrive at Compiègne-Dinner of the Sovereigns.

I.

SUCH was the family of the Bourbons, with its old men, its men of mature age, its young princes, all who were present, and all who were absent; its victims and its souvenirs constituting a portion of its name, in the thoughts and in the memory of Europe, at the moment Napoleon was taking leave of Fontainebleau.

The symptoms of his decline, and the hopes of his ruin had not left the members of this family indifferent, or inactive, during the campaign of Paris. The policy of Louis XVIII. at

Policy of Louis XVIII.

Hartwell was prepared to dispute and to gather the inheritance of the throne which the Empire was going to leave vacant. This enlightened prince, at once patient and solicitous for the reign that was approaching him, did not wish that his dynasty should attempt on the continent adventures disproportioned to its strength. He knew that his power lay în his name, and in the hereditary principle of that power, which victorious Europe would be induced to uphold, to found something analogous to itself in France. He considered himself as a dogma, and not as a Pretender. The word legitimacy, which so well expressed this principle and this dogma, had been adapted and made popular by M. de Talleyrand; but it had been invented by Louis XVIII. at Hartwell. The impatience of the Count d'Artois, and of his little court of chivalry, could not reconcile itself to these slow proceedings. This prince and his friends ardently desired to throw themselves into the midst of events and the midst of the allies in France, to take advantage of circumstances, to form again in the interior, if possible, an army of princes, to invite the cabinets of the coalesced sovereigns to the object of their wishes, to prevent a peace with Napoleon and, above all, to substitute themselves, by some explosion of royalist opinion, to the regency of Marie-Louise, to the proclamation of a second Empire on the head of Napoleon II., or to the republican enterprises of the Senate, which, after having sold its ambition to despotism, might attempt to perpetuate it by selling it to the Republic.

II.

Louis XVIII., who equally dreaded the levity and the ardour to reign, or self-importance of his brother, had retarded, as much as he could with decency, the impatience to proceed to the continent, which devoured the soul of the Count d'Artois. This was a wise thought. The Bourbons, to be powerful and popular in France, in the event of a Restoration, should have been called by the nation as saviours after the conquest, and not presented, patronised, or imposed by the hands of the conquerors. This would be a stain which would extend over all