CONCLUSION.

"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 everwilling 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]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 decayof 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 repeatthe 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.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 particularlyexamined, 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."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 callune 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 thisextraordinary 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 ofGeneral 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 achronic 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 heartshould 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; nordidhe 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.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.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 scandalousaverments 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 apupil 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; perhapson 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 hisauthority, 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 pleasingthe 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 lovedFrance, 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 ofMontmartre was fought, theMoniteur, the chief organ of public intelligence, was occupied in a commentary onnosographie, 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,

"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 everwilling 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]

"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 everwilling 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]

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 decayof 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 repeatthe 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."

"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 repeatthe 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.

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 particularlyexamined, 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."

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 callune 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 thisextraordinary 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 ofGeneral 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 achronic 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 heartshould 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; nordidhe 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.

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.

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 scandalousaverments 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 apupil 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; perhapson 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 hisauthority, 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 pleasingthe 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 lovedFrance, 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 ofMontmartre was fought, theMoniteur, the chief organ of public intelligence, was occupied in a commentary onnosographie, 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,

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