"I will not attempt," says Caulaincourt, “to describe my feelings on taking my last farewell of the Emperor. I felt that he was about to enter upon an endless exile. I rushed from the cabinet, almost in a delirium of despair. Since then my prosaic life has been utterly devoid of interest. I have been insensible to persecution, and have resented injuries only by cold contempt. There is one regret which presses heavily upon my heart. It is that I can not live long enough to complete the work of conscience and justice which I am anxious to bequeath to France. By employing the few hours which I can snatch from death in portraying the hero whom faction hurled from the throne, I feel that I am discharging a sacred duty to my country. out a leader, that they were to endure the humil- the court-yard. The Emperor advanced to the iation of defeat without having fought, my blood window. The carriages had arrived for his deboiled with indignation. All I wished for myself parture. He heaved a deep sigh, and seemed for was a glorious death amidst my brave troops. a moment much agitated. He advanced toward But my co-operation would have defeated the Caulaincourt, took his hand, gazed for a moment schemes of traitors. France has been sold. She silently and with a look of inexpressible tenderhas been surrendered up, without a blow being ness in his face, when suddenly the warm and struck in her defense. Thirty-two millions of glowing heart of this imperial man was overmen have been made to bow their heads to an whelmed with affection and grief, and his eyes arrogant conqueror, without disputing the victory. were flooded with tears, which he vainly struggled Such a spectacle as France now presents has not to repress. Unable to articulate a word, he pressbeen found in the history of any other nation." ed the hand of his devoted friend, and, in the siAs the Emperor uttered these words he rose, lent adieu of uncontrollable emotion, departed. and, in his excitement, walked up and down the room. The deep emotion which agitated him was betrayed by his rapid utterance and animated gestures. After a moment's pause, he continued, "Honor, national dignity,'all, all, now is lost! That miserable Fouché imagines that I would assume the sovereignty in the degradation to which it now is reduced. Never! never! The place assigned to the sovereign is no longer tenable. I am disgusted alike with men and things. I am utterly indifferent about my future fate, and I endure life without attaching myself to it by any alluring chimeras. I carry with me from France recollections which will constitute at once the charm and the torment of the remainder of my days. A bitter and incurable regret must ever be connected with this last phasis of my singular career. Alas! what will become of the army, my brave, my unparalleled army? The reaction will be terrible. The army will be doomed to expiate its fidelity to my cause, its heroic resistance at Waterloo. Waterloo! what horrible recollections are connected with that name! Oh! if you had seen that handful of heroes, closely pressed one upon another, resisting immense masses of the enemy, not to defend their lives, but to meet death on the field of battle where they could not conquer! The English stood amazed at the sight of this desperate heroism. Weary of the carnage, they implored the martyrs to surrender. This merciful summons was answered by the sublime cry, The Guard dies; it never surrenders! The Imperial Guard has immortalized the French people and the Empire." He paused, overcome by emotion, as his mind retraced these memorable scenes. Soon raising his eyes, and fixing them sadly yet affectionately upon Caulaincourt, he added, in tones of peculiar tenderness, "And you, all of you who are here, will be pursued and persecuted. Compromised as you are for your fidelity to my cause, what will become of you! All is over, Caulaincourt. We are now about to part. In a few days I must quit France forever. I will fix my abode in the United States. In the course of some little time, the spot which I shall inhabit will be in a condition to receive the glorious wrecks of the army. All my old companions in arms will find an asylum with me. Who knows but that I may one day or other have a Hospital of Invalids in the United States for my veteran Guards." Suddenly the galloping of horses was heard in "The wonderful character of Napoleon can only be accurately portrayed by those who had the opportunity of observing him in the relations of private life. They only can paint the thousand traits which characterized his extraordinary mind. Napoleon was more than a hero, more than an Emperor. A comparison between him and any other sovereign, or any other man, is impossible. His death has left a void in human nature which probably never will be filled up. Future generations will bow with respect to the age on which the glory of Napoleon Bonaparte shed its lustre. For centuries to come French hearts will glow with pride at the mention of his exploits. To his name alone is attached inexhaustible admiration, imperishable remembrance." The Emperor embraced Queen Hortense, who was overwhelmed with grief, and then took a melancholy farewell of the other friends whom he was never to meet again. Every heart seemed lacerated with almost unearthly anguish. As he passed along through the serpentine walk of the enchanting park, embellished with all the verdure, the flowers, and the bird songs of June, and where he had enjoyed so many hours of happiness with his much loved Josephine, he stopped several times, and turned round to fix his last lingering looks upon the familiar and attractive scene. Little did he then imagine that a dilapidated hut, upon the bleak, storm-swept rock of St. Helena, was to be his prison and his tomb. At the gate of the park he entered a plain caleche. General Becker, Count Bertrand, and Savary took the three other seats. Several other carriages followed, occupied by Madame Bertrand and her children, Count Montholon, wife and child, Las Cases and his son, and several devoted officers who were anxious to share the fortunes | from Malmaison. In this antique castle the Emof the dethroned Emperor. These carriages were peror passed the night. to proceed to Rochefort by another road. The Emperor and his companions were habited in the simple traveling dress of private gentlemen. The distance from Paris to Rochefort, near the mouth of the Charente, is about three hundred miles. The friends of Napoleon were well aware that attempts would be made to secure his assassination on the way. They were secretly well provided with arms for a desperate defense. The emotions excited in every bosom were too strong for utterance. The attitude of the Emperor was calm and dignified. For several hours there was unbroken silence in the carriage. At ten o'clock at night they arrived at Rambouillet, about thirty miles At an early hour the next morning, June 30th, the rapid journey was resumed. After a melancholy drive of two or three hours, they arrived at Chateaudun. The mistress of the post-house hastened to the carriage door, and anxiously inquired if there was any truth in the report that the Emperor had been assassinated. She had hardly asked the question, ere she recognized the countenance of Napoleon. For a moment she seemed stunned. Then, raising her eyes to heaven and clasping her hands, she burst into a flood of tears, and retired weeping bitterly. All were much moved at this touching proof of affection. Driving rapidly all day and night, and meeting with no occurrence to disturb the profound sadness of the route, they arrived before the break of day, on the morning of the 1st of July, at Tours. Pressing on some fifty miles further, they arrived at mid-day at Poitiers. The roads were dusty, and the heat, from a blazing July sun, sultry and oppressive. At a little post-house outside the town the Emperor remained a couple of hours for repose. At two o'clock he again entered his carriage, and proceeded onward to Niort, where he arrived just as the glooms of night were settling down over the city. Here the Emperor remained for a day. He was recognized by some persons, and the rumor of his arrival spread rapidly through the city. Cries of Vive l'Empereur! began to resound through the streets. An immense concourse immediately surrounded the hotel, with enthusiastic acclamations and with every expression of respect and love. During the whole day his rooms were thronged with officers of the garrison, public functionaries, and influential citizens. Here the Emperor was also informed that all egress from the roadstead of Rochefort, by the two frigates prepared for him, was effectually prevented by English ships of war. His position was now in the highest possible degree embarrassing. The officers of the army entreated him to place himself at their head, assuring him that every soldier in the army and all the masses of the people would rally around him with deathless fervor. Napoleon might thus have saved himself. He could easily have aroused such enthusiasm throughout France, and have presented himself with such imposing power before the Allies, that it would have required a long and sanguinary civil war before the hostile invaders could have subdued him. In this conflict the Allies would have been compelled to sacrifice tens of thousands of lives, and millions of money. Trembling before the genius of the Emperor, they would have been glad to purchase peace with him upon terms which would secure his personal safety and dignified retirement. But in this conflict France would have been deluged in blood, and Napoleon repeatedly declared, and persevered in the lofty resolve, that not one single life should be sacrificed merely to secure benefits or safety to himself. History presents few parallels to such magnanimity. He was, however, still sanguine in the belief that if the Chambers would unite with him and with France, so as to present an united front to the coalition, the invaders, notwithstanding their locust legions, might still be driven from the empire. General Becker immediately informed the government that the roadstead at Rochefort was reported as effectually blockaded; and reported to them the enthusiastic desires of the troops, that Napoleon would head them to drive out the invaders. At Napoleon's suggestion, in this desperate emergence, General Becker added to this communication," If, in this situation, the English cruisers prevent the frigates from putting to sea, you can dispose of the Emperor as a General eagerly desirous only of being useful to his country." | To this Fouché replied, "Napoleon must embark without delay. You must employ every measure of coercion you may deem necessary, without failing in the respect due to him. "As to the services which are offered, our duties toward France, and our engagements to foreign powers, do not permit us to accept of them." The evidence is now conclusive to almost every mind that Fouché had all this time been plotting to betray Napoleon to the Allies. He knew that Europe combined could not maintain the Bourbons upon the throne, so long as the people of France saw any possibility of recalling Napoleon. It was therefore his design to deliver Napoleon up to his enemies. He was afraid to order his arrest until Paris should be engirdled by the bayonets of the Allies. The exasperated people would instantly have risen to the rescue. Under pretense of waiting for a safe-conduct, and affirming that France would be dishonored by the Emperor's capture, he would not allow the frigates to sail when there was the slightest chance of their escaping the British cruisers. He wished to drive the Emperor on board one of the frigates, so that he could no longer be surrounded by the enthusiasm of the French people, and then to detain the frigates until the English cruisers, by his treachery, should be accumulated in such numbers as to render escape impossible. While, therefore, he was thus urging General Becker to "employ every measure of coercion" to induce the Emperor to embark, orders were sent to the maritime prefect at Rochefort not to allow the frigates to sail. 66 It is utterly impossible," said the order, "for our two frigates to attempt sailing while the enemy retains his present position. It would be proper to wait for a favorable opportunity, which can not offer for a long time to come." "The provisional government," says the Duke of Rovigo, "had dispatched agents to the coast, and prepared the means of carrying off the Emperor, or at least of preventing his eluding the vigilance of the English cruisers. By this means they had it in their power to seize him as soon as the presence of the foreign troops in Paris should have rendered unavailing any opposition that might have sprung from the enthusiasm still created by the Emperor's painful situation." Early in the morning of the 3d of July the Emperor arrived in Rochefort. During his short reign, with all the despots of Europe striving to crush him, he had done more to promote the health and the opulence of this city than all the monarchs of France combined who had preceded him. By his orders the extensive marshes surrounding the city had been drained and fertilized, and important works had been erected for defense, and for the promotion of internal improvements. As they rode along, the Emperor pointed out to his companions the once infectious marshes, now filled with ricks of new-mown hay. "You see," said he, "that the population cheerfully recognize the prosperity which I have created in their country. Wherever I pass, I receive the blessings of a grateful people.” The Emperor's arrival at Rochefort produced a harbor. Fouché had sent word that the English government would soon transmit the passports by an English ship of war, which was cruising off Rochefort. The Emperor had hoped that his peaceful retirement would not be opposed. He had supposed that his enemies would be satisfied by his self-sacrifice, and his retirement to the wilds of the New World. profound sensation. The gardens of the prefect- the frigates were not yet permitted to leave the ure, where he took his lodgings, were filled with an enthusiastic crowd. Whenever he appeared he was greeted with the most ardent acclamations. "I believe," says the Duke of Rovigo, who was with the Emperor at that time, "that every inhabitant, without a single exception, participated in our feelings." There were several thousand troops in the vicinity. They all transmitted to the Emperor expressions of devoted attachment, and tendered to him their services. There was not a military officer within thirty miles who did not hasten to offer his homage to the Emperor. Napoleon was desirous of embarking immediately, and of trusting to his good fortune, and to the guns of the frigate, for escape from the enemy. But many obstacles were thrown in the way, and it was not until after the lapse of five days, on the evening of the 8th, that it was announced that the frigates were ready for his embarkation. The two frigates, the Saale and the Medusa, which had been assigned for the transportation of Napoleon and his suite, were at anchor in the bay. In the mean time the English cruisers, guided by information from Fouché, had been doubled all along the coast. At four o'clock in the afternoon, the Emperor took an affecting leave of his faithful companions in arms, and amidst the tears of an innumerable throng of people, and their cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" stepped into one of the boats of the Saale. The vessels were at a long distance from the quay. The wind was boisterous and the sea rough as the Emperor, in silence and sadness, thus bade adieu to the shores of his beloved France, It was eight o'clock in the evening before the boats reached the Saale. The Emperor slept on board. He found, however, that At day-break on the morning of the 9th the Emperor landed on the Isle of Aix, off which the frigates were anchored. The whole population of the island, and the regiment of marines in the garrison, crowded to the shore to greet him, and the air was rent with their acclamations. His exile resembled a triumph. In this his last hour upon the soil of France, he was greeted with the warmest testimonials of love and homage. As he returned to the frigate, he was waited upon by the maritime prefect. The Allies were now in possession of Paris. The treacherous Fouché was prepared to resign his power into the hands of the Bourbons. The commander of the frigate was informed that "the act of disembarking Napoleon again upon the soil of France would be declared high treason." The Emperor passed the 10th on board the frigate, much perplexed in considering the various plans proposed for his escape. "It is however evident," says Las Cases, "that in the midst of this state of agitation he continues calm and resolute, even to indifference, without manifesting the least anxiety." Before the break of day on the 11th of July, the Duke of Rovigo and Las Cases were sent with a flag of truce to the commander of the English squadron, to inquire if he would feel himself authorized to allow the frigates, or any other French or neutral vessels, conveying the Emperor, and world to think of saving himself by sacrificing the bound to the United States, to pass free. lives of others. He was grateful for this proof of affection, but promptly and decisively declined the offer. About seven o'clock in the morning the envoys arrived on board the Bellerophon, under the command of Captain Maitland, which was cruising off the harbor. Captain Maitland replied that his orders were to capture any vessel which should attempt to leave the roadstead. They then inquired, "In the event of the Emperor's adopting the idea of going to England, may he depend upon being received on board your ship, with those who accompany him?" Captain Maitland frankly and honestly answered, "I will instantly address a dispatch to the Admiral on the subject. Should the Emperor present himself before I receive a reply, I shall receive him. But in that case I shall be acting on my own responsibility; and I can not enter into any engagements as to the reception he may meet in England." Captain Maitland promised in two days again to cast anchor in the roads, when he would probably have received his answer from the Admiral, and when they could again communicate with him. Napoleon, upon receiving this answer, reflected upon it for some time, and then resolved, notwithstanding the overwhelming force of the English, to brave all the peril, and endeavor to escape. Go," said he to the Duke of Rovigo, "and desire the captain of the frigate, in my name, to set sail immediately." Captain Philibert returned the astounding reply, that "he was strictly forbidden by the government to sail if the vessels would be exposed to any risk." When the Duke of Rovigo, upon receiving this answer, indignantly exclaimed, "This is all deception. The government is only plotting to deliver up the Emperor to the enemy!" the Captain replied, "I do not know. But I have orders not to sail." When the Emperor was informed of this result, he calmly said, "My secret presentiments told me as much. But I was unwilling to believe it. I was reluctant to suspect that this Captain, who appeared a worthy man, could have lent himself to so shameful an act of treachery. What a villain is that Fouché!" In this fearful emergence the Captain of the Medusa came forward with the following heroic proposition. Forgetting every other consideration in devotion to the safety of the Emperor, he begged permission, under favor of the night, to surprise the Bellerophon at anchor, to engage her in close combat, and to grapple his vessel to her sides. The sixty-gun frigate could maintain the conflict with her powerful adversary of seventyfour guns for at least two hours before she should be destroyed. The Bellerophon, impeded and crippled by the action, could not overtake the Saale, which could not be effectually opposed by the English brig alone, and would thus escape. This plan promised success. A single word from the Emperor would have tossed the Captain of the Saale into the sea, and have placed the frigate under the command of one of the Emperor's friends. But Napoleon was the last man in the VOL. IX.-No. 54.-3 A The captain of a Danish vessel, the Bayadere, which was a very rapid sailer, offered the Emperor the protection of his flag, and expressed the utmost confidence that he should be able to escape the cruisers. He had prepared a secret recess in his vessel, with very great skill, where the Emperor might be concealed, should the vessel be searched by the English. Several young officers connected with the naval service fitted out two small fishing-vessels, with which they could glide along in the night, near to the shore, and thus escape to sea, and perilously cross the Atlantic. Upon consultation, both of these plans were rejected. The Emperor was unwilling to separate himself from his friends, and, in securing his own escape, to abandon them to Bourbon vengeance. He also considered it inconsistent with his character to attempt escape in disguise or concealment. Nearly all of his friends were also of opinion, that if Napoleon would throw himself upon the hospitality of England, he would meet from the nation a generous reception. Joseph Bonaparte had made sure of his departure from Bordeaux for the United States. He strikingly resembled his brother Napoleon. He entreated the Emperor to take advantage of the close resemblance and escape in his place, while Joseph should remain in the Emperor's stead. Napoleon would not listen to a proposition which exposed his brother to dangers which belonged to his own destiny. Others urged that it was expedient to renew the war. It was obvious to all that the Emperor had but to place himself upon the shore, and the army every where, and all the masses of the people, would rally around him. But to this the Emperor persisted in the reply: Civil war can have no other result than that of placing me as Emperor in a better position to obtain arrangements more favorable to my personal interests. I can not consent to expose my friends to destruction for such a result. I can not allow myself to be the cause of the desolation of the provinces, and thus to deprive the national party of its true support, by which, sooner or later, the honor and independence of France will be established. I have renounced sovereignty, and only wish for a peaceful asylum." On the 14th, the Emperor again sent Las Cases and Savary on board the Bellerophon. They returned with the report, that Captain Maitland wished them to say to the Emperor, that "if he decided upon going to England, he was authorized to receive him on board; and that he accordingly placed his ship at the Emperor's disposal." Under these circumstances, the Emperor assembled his friends in council. Nearly all were of opinion that it was best to confide in the honor and the hospitality of England. General Gourgaud and Count Montholon alone dissented. They urged that the generous feelings of the |