paintingNAPOLEON AT FONTAINEBLEAU.
NAPOLEON AT FONTAINEBLEAU.
After the disaster of Leipsic, and the losses sustained by different divisions of the army in that campaign, and the mortality which thinned so dreadfully the French armies on the Rhine, France felt herself exhausted and weak.
In this depressed state, the civilized world was preparing its last united onset upon her. From the Baltic to the Bosphorus, from the Archangel to the Mediterranean, Europe had banded itself against Napoleon. Denmark and Sweden had struck hands with Austria and Russia and Prussia and England; while, to crown all, the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine put their signatures to the league, andone million and twenty-eight thousand menstood up in battle array on the plains of Europe to overthrow this mighty spirit that had shaken so terribly their thrones. And all this resistless host were pointing their bayonets towards Paris. What man or nation could meet such an overwhelming foe? Never did Napoleon’s genius shine forth with greater splendor than in the almost super-human exertions he put forth in this last great struggle for his empire. The Allies entered the capital, and Napoleon was compelled to abdicate, preferring exile, rather than involve France in more terrible bloodshed. He then penned this memorable abdication:—
“The allied sovereigns having declared that the Emperor Napoleon is the sole obstacle to the re-establishmentof a general peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces, for himself and his heirs, the throne of France and Italy; and that there is no personal sacrifice, not even that of life itself, which he is not willing to make for the interests of France.”
Then followed his mournful farewell to his soldiers.
“As Napoleon arrived at the landing of the grand staircase, he stood for a moment and looked around upon the Guard drawn up in the court, and upon the innumerable multitude which thronged its surroundings. Every eye was fixed on him. It was a funereal scene, over which was suspended the solemnity of religious awe. Acclamations in that hour would have been a mockery. The silence of the grave reigned undisturbed. Tears rolled down the furrowed cheeks of the warriors, and their heads were bowed in overwhelming grief. Napoleon cast a tender and a grateful look over the battalions and the squadrons who had ever proved so faithful to himself and to his cause. Before descending to the courtyard, he hesitated for a moment, as if his fortitude were forsaking him. But immediately rallying his strength, he approached the soldiers. The drums commenced beating the accustomed salute. With a gesture Napoleon arrested the martial tones.” A breathless stillness prevailed. With a voice clear and firm,—every articulation of which was heard in the remotest ranks,—he said:—
“Generals, officers, and soldiers of my Old Guard, I bid you farewell. For five and twenty years I have ever found you in the path of honor and of glory. In these last days, as in the days of our prosperity, you have never ceased to be models of fidelity and of courage. Europe has armed against us. Still, with men such as you, ourcause never could have been lost. We could have maintained a civil war for years. But it would have rendered our country unhappy. I have therefore sacrificed our interests to those of France. I leave you; but, my friends,be faithful to the new sovereign whom France has accepted. The happiness of France was my only thought; it shall ever be the object of my most fervent prayers. Grieve not for my lot; I shall be happy so long as I know that you are so. If I have consented to outlive myself, it is with the hope of still promoting your glory. I trust to write the deeds we have achieved together. Adieu, my children! I would that I could press you all to my heart. Let me at least embrace your general and your eagle.”
“Every eye was now bathed in tears. At a signal from Napoleon, General Petit, who then commanded the Old Guard, advanced and stood between the ranks of the soldiers and their emperor. Napoleon, with tears dimming his eyes, encircled the general in his arms, while the veteran commander, entirely unmanned, sobbed aloud. All hearts were melted, and a stilled moan was heard through all the ranks.
“Again the Emperor recovered himself, and said, ‘Bring me the eagle.’ A grenadier advanced, bearing one of the eagles of the regiment. Napoleon imprinted a kiss upon its silver beak, then pressed the eagle to his heart, and said, in tremulous accents, ‘Dear eagle, may this last embrace vibrate forever in the hearts of all my faithful soldiers! Farewell, again, my old companions, farewell!’”
But Elba could not long hold that daring, restless spirit. The next year he again unrolled his standard in the capital of France, and the army opened its arms to receive him. He at length staked all on the field of Waterloo. There the star of his destiny again rose over thehorizon, and struggled with its ancient strength to mount the heavens of fame. The battle-cloud rolled over it, and when it again was swept away, that star had gone down, sunk in blood and carnage, to rise no more forever.
“Volumes have been written on this campaign and last battle; but every impartial mind must come to the same conclusion,—that Napoleon’s plans never promised more complete success than at this last effort. Wellington was entrapped, and with the same co-operation on both sides, he was lost beyond redemption. Had Blücher stayed away as Grouchy did, or had Grouchy come up as did Blücher, victory would once more have soared with the French eagles. It is in vain to talk of Grouchy’s having obeyed orders. It was plainly his duty, and his only duty, to detain Blücher or to follow him.”
Even yet Napoleon could have placed himself at the head of fifty thousand men in a few hours. He was entreated by his friends to grasp these powerful resources and again attack the foe. But treachery had already invaded the Chamber of Deputies. The wily Fouché—the same who had largely instigated the divorce of Josephine—had obtained the control, and joining with the Bourbons, persuaded the Chamber to demand the second abdication of the Emperor.
“Two regiments of volunteers from the Faubourg St. Antoine, accompanied by a countless multitude, marched to the gates of the Elysée. A deputation waited upon the Emperor, stating that the traitorous Chamber of Deputies was about to sell France again to the Bourbons, and entreating him to take the reins of government into his own hands, as on the 18th Brumaire.” The Emperor replied, “You recall to my remembrance the 18th Brumaire, but you forget that the circumstances are not the same.On the 18th Brumaire the nation was unanimous in desiring a change. A feeble effort only was necessary to effect what they so much desired. Now it would require floods of French blood, and never shall a single drop be shed by me in defence of a cause purely personal. Putting the brute force of the mass of the people into action would doubtless save Paris and insure me the crown without incurring the horrors of civil war, but it would likewise be risking thousands of French lives.No! I like the regrets of France better than her crown.”
paintingNAPOLEON ON BOARD THE BELLEROPHON.
NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE BELLEROPHON.
And so Napoleon, sacrificing himself to save the lives of the French people, dictated his second act of abdication, and resigned himself with amazing calmness to this overwhelming disaster. But when he threw himself upon the generosity of England, she treacherously entrapped him on theBellerophon, and afterwards conveyed him as a captive to the desolate island of St. Helena, where she set spies over him to torture and insult him, and gloated with demoniacal cruelty over the reports they gave of his sufferings.
But England, with all her cunning and her base treachery, could not imprison the matchless mind and soul of the great Napoleon. Though his body was chained to a dreary rock-prison, his genius was still the royal emperor of the world. His wondrous sayings at St. Helena have become the text-books for the students of all climes.
An English writer, who holds the position of a professor in the University at Cambridge, in a work lately published, thus gives to Napoleon his place in history: “There are times—and these are the most usual—when the most wonderful abilities would not have availed to raise any man from such a station as that in which Napoleon was born to the head of affairs. But the lastyears of the eighteenth century formed an exceptional period, in which such an ascent was not only possible in France, but was quite possible without very extraordinary abilities. That particular part of Napoleon’s career to which the Alexanders and Hannibals can show nothing parallel, is, in fact, just the part which, in that exceptional time, was within the reach of an ordinary man. Thus the miracle of Bonaparte’s rise to power lies not so much in his personality as in the time.”
What a pity that thisEnglish professorcould not have happened to have lived whenordinarymen might have become so great!
One great secret of Napoleon’s success was the union of two striking qualities which are not often found together. His imagination was as ardent, and his mind as impetuous, as the most rash warrior; at the same time his judgment was as cool and correct as the ablest tactician. “His mind moved with the rapidity of lightning, and yet with the precision and steadiness of naked reason.” This power of thinking quick and thinking right is one of the rarest and yet most important qualities to insure success. As a military leader he has no superior in ancient or modern times. Instead of following what was then considered the scientific mode of warfare, he fell back upon his own genius, and originated tactics which filled his foes with horrified surprise. His power of combination was unequalled; his mind seemed vast enough for the management of the globe. And yet so perfect was the system and arrangement of his plans and thoughts that the slightest detail was never overlooked. His bravery amounted to rashness where his own life was concerned. He feared neither shot nor shell, and carelessly exposed himself whenever he thought his presencewas needed, replying to his soldiers, who often besought him not to risk his life so recklessly, “Courage! the bullet that is to kill me is not yet cast.”
As a thinker and statesman, Napoleon was as remarkable as he was as a politician and general. His genius was universal. Had he not been a Napoleon, he might have been a Shakespeare or a Bacon. He condensed a volume into a sentence; his words were as keen as the blade of a Damascus sword, and as freighted with ominous meaning as the tides of the ocean. He knew men; he knew books; he knew nature. In twenty-five lessons Napoleon became so familiar with the English language that he could read any English book without difficulty.
Another remarkable trait in Napoleon was his self-sufficiency. That self-confidence, which in smaller men would have been mad folly, was in him the most far-seeing wisdom. He needed no opinions of other men to govern his actions. He was sufficient unto himself. He took counsel only of his own genius and reason and marvellous intuitions.
His self-reliance was his power in the midst of danger and difficulties. He believed God had given him a great part to play in the world’s drama, and he meant to play it well. His plans were almost the inspirations of prophetic foreknowledge.
Napoleon was also the greatest of statesmen. His conversations at St. Helena display his wonderful knowledge of men and governments and laws and administrative legislation. Nowhere else can be found such profound thoughts upon politics, war, sciences, arts, or religion. He has been accused of infidelity. But few declarations of the Divinity of Christ, ever uttered by mortal lips, have equalled in far-reaching apprehension, and also acknowledgmentof the divine incomprehensibility of the mystery of the Godhead, as the sayings of Napoleon. Conversing with General Bertrand at St. Helena, Napoleon said:—
“I know men, and I tell you that Jesus Christ is not a man. Superficial minds see a resemblance between Christ and the founders of empires and the gods of other religions. That resemblance does not exist. There is between Christianity and all other religions whatsoever the distance of infinity. Paganism was never accepted as truth by the wise men of Greece, neither by Socrates, Pythagoras, Plato, Anaxagoras, nor Pericles. But on the other side, the loftiest intellects since the advent of Christianity have had faith, a living faith, a practical faith, in the mysteries and doctrines of the Gospel. Paganism is the work of man. What do these gods so boastful know more than other mortals? these legislators, Greek or Roman? this Numa? this Lycurgus? these priests of India or of Memphis? this Confucius? this Mohammed? Absolutely nothing. They have made a perfect chaos of morals. There is not one among them all who has said anything new in reference to our future destiny, to the soul, to the essence of God, to the creation. As for me, I recognize the gods and these great men as beings like myself. They have performed a lofty part in their times, as I have done. Nothing announces them divine. On the contrary, there are numerous resemblances between them and myself,—foibles and errors which ally them to me and to humanity.
“It is not so with Christ. Everything in him astonishes me. His spirit overawes me, and his will confounds me. Between him and whoever else in the world there is no possible term of comparison; his birth, and the history of his life; the profundity of his doctrine, whichgrapples the mightiest difficulties, and which is of those difficulties the most admirable solution; his Gospel, his apparition, his empire, his march across the ages and the realms,—everything is to me a prodigy, an insoluble mystery, which plunges me into a reverie from which I cannot escape, a mystery which is there before my eyes, a mystery which I can neither deny nor explain. Here I see nothing human.
“Jesus borrowed nothing from our sciences. His religion is a revelation from an intelligence which certainly is not that of man. One can absolutely find nowhere, but in him alone, the imitation or the example of his life. He is not a philosopher, since he advances by miracles, and from the first his disciples worshipped him. He persuades them far more by an appeal to the heart, than by any display of method and of logic. Neither did he impose upon them any preliminary studies or any knowledge of letters. All his religion consists inbelieving. In fact, the sciences and philosophy avail nothing for salvation. He has nothing to do but with the soul, and to that alone he brings his Gospel. The soul is sufficient for him, as he is sufficient for the soul. I search in vain in history to find a parallel to Jesus Christ, or anything which can approach the Gospel. Neither history, nor humanity, nor the ages, nor nature, can offer me anything with which I am able to compare it or explain it. The more I consider the Gospel, the more I am assured that there is nothing there which is not beyond the march of events, and above the human mind.
“You speak of Cæsar, of Alexander, of their conquests, and of the enthusiasm they enkindled in the hearts of their soldiers; but can you conceive of a dead man making conquests with an army faithful and entirelydevoted to his memory? My armies have forgotten me, even while living, as the Carthaginian army forgot Hannibal. Such is our power! A single battle lost crushes us, and adversity scatters our friends.
“Can you conceive of Cæsar, the eternal emperor of the Roman Senate, from the depths of his mausoleum governing the empire, watching over the destinies of Rome? Such is the history of the invasion and conquest of the world by Christianity. Such is the power of the God of the Christians, and such is the perpetual miracle of the progress of the faith and of the government of his Church. Nations pass away, thrones crumble, but the Church remains. In every other existence but that of Christ, how many imperfections! From the first day to the last he is the same, always the same, majestic and simple, infinitely firm and infinitely gentle. Christ proved that he was the Son of the Eternal by his disregard of time. All his doctrines signify one and the same thing,—Eternity.
“The Gospel is not a book; it is a living being, with an action, a power which invades everything that opposes its extension. Behold it upon this table, this Book surpassing all others” (here he solemnly placed his hand upon it); “I never omit to read it, and every day with the same pleasure. Nowhere is to be found such a series of beautiful ideas, admirable moral maxims, which defile like the battalions of a celestial army, and which produce in our soul the same emotion which one experiences in contemplating the infinite expanse of the skies, resplendent in a summer’s night with all the brilliance of the stars. Not only is our mind absorbed; it is controlled, and the soul can never go astray with this Book for its guide. Once master of our spirit, the faithful Gospel lovesus. God even is our Friend, our Father, and truly our God.
“What a proof of the divinity of Christ! With an empire so absolute, he has but one single end,—the spiritual amelioration of individuals, the purity of conscience, the union to that which is true, the holiness of the soul. So that Christ’s greatest miracle undoubtedly is the reign of charity.
“Behold the destiny near at hand of him who has been called the great Napoleon! What an abyss between my deep misery and the eternal reign of Christ, which is proclaimed, loved, adored, and which is extending over all the earth. Is this to die? Is it not rather to live? The death of Christ! It is the death of God.” Turning to General Bertrand, “If you do not perceive that Jesus Christ is God, very well; then I did wrong to make you a general.” At length came the last, though to Napoleon most welcome, summons. A few days before his death, he awoke one morning, saying, “I have just seen my good Josephine, but she would not embrace me. She disappeared at the moment when I was about to take her in my arms. She was seated there. It seemed to me that I had seen her yesterday evening. She is not changed. She is still the same, full of devotion to me. She told me that we were about to see each other again, never more to part.”
The disease progressed rapidly, and the dying hour drew near. It was the month of May, 1821. A violent storm raged with wild fury on that rocky prison-isle, as the spirit of the great Napoleon was freeing itself from its earthly fetters. His few faithful friends who shared his exile, stood weeping around his couch. In the solemn silence of that sacred hour his loved voice was once morefaintly heard: “France! Army! Head of the Army! Josephine!” and the heart of Napoleon I. ceased to beat. “Isle of Elba! Napoleon!” had been the last words of the loving and forgiving Josephine. “France! the Army! Josephine!” were the last images which lingered in the heart, and the last words which trembled on the lips of the dying emperor.
“When the prejudice, and falsehood, and hatred of his enemies shall disappear, and the world can gaze impartially on this plebeian soldier, rising to the throne of an empire, measuring his single intellect with the proudest kings of Europe, and coming off victorious from the encounter, rising above the prejudices and follies of his age, ‘making kings of plebeians, and plebeians of kings,’ grasping, as by intuition, all military and political science, expending with equal facility his vast energies on war or peace, turning with the same profound thought from fierce battles to commerce, and trade, and finances; when the world can calmly thus contemplate him, his amazing genius will receive that homage which envy and ignorance and hatred now withhold.
“And when the intelligent philanthropist shall understand the political and civil history of Europe, and see how Napoleon broke up its systems of oppression and feudalism, proclaiming human rights in the ears of the world, till the continent shook with the rising murmurs of oppressed man; study well the changes he introduced, without which human progress must have ceased; see the great public works he established, the institutions he founded, the laws he proclaimed, and the civil liberty he restored; and then, remembering that the bloody wars that offset all these were waged by him in self-defence, and were equal rights struggling against exclusive despotism,he will regret that he has adopted the slanders of his foemen and the falsehoods of monarchists.”
paintingTHE ROCK AT ST. HELENA.
THE ROCK AT ST. HELENA.
Alexander’s conquests were only for selfish glory; he cared not for his people, and little for his soldiers. Cæsar’s triumphs were for his own personal honor and power. The wars of Frederick the Great were nearly all unjust and aggressive, and he openly asserted his selfish ambition. But Napoleon, equalling them all in the brilliancy of his conquests, stands so far above them, as the idol of his people and his soldiers, as a man of incorruptible character, in the midst of temptations as great as any which have beset mortal men, as an intellectual genius, with a mind so phenomenal as to make him almost a miracle in far-seeing intuitions and marvellous accomplishment,—that he must be acknowledged, not only as the most famous of all the rulers of the world, but as the greatest uninspired man that ever lived. The history of most men terminates with the grave. But Napoleon’s story ended not with his lonely death upon the dreary Isle of St. Helena. Each year his memory was growing brighter. Each year the French people realized more and more the irreparable loss they had sustained. The heart-melting story of his hardships at St. Helena was told over and over again in his beloved France, till at last the nation rose as one man to do his memory honor. Just twenty-five years from the time when Napoleon was landed a captive upon the Island of St. Helena, his sacred remains were brought from their humble resting-place upon that rocky isle, and placed in the magnificent mausoleum prepared for them in the Church of the Invalides. On the anniversary of the great victory of Austerlitz, the two funeral frigates entered the harbor of Cherbourg. Three ships of war, theAusterlitz, theFriedland,and theTilsit, immediately encircled the ship which bore the sacred remains. All the forts, batteries, and warships fired a salute. All France flocked to the cities and villages through which the funeral cortège was to pass.
At four o’clock, on the afternoon of the 14th of December, 1840, the flotilla arrived at Courbevoie, a small village four miles from Paris. Here the remains were to be transferred from the steamer to the shore. As the funeral barge sailed up the Seine, a colossal statue of Josephine, which had been erected on the shore, offered an appropriate and fitting welcome. Her fair form and face seemed to greet the return of her idolized husband. Maria Louisa, the daughter of the Cæsars, was then living ingloriously at Parma. No one thought of her. But at last Josephine and Napoleon were united together in sacred memories on earth, as their spirits had already been reunited in heaven.
“A Grecian temple one hundred feet high was constructed at the termination of the wharf, under which the body was to lie in state until transferred to the funeral car. Here Sergeant Hubert, who for nineteen years had kept watch at the solitary grave of Napoleon at St. Helena, landed. All the generals gathered around him, and he was welcomed by the people with deep emotion. The imperial funeral car was composed of five distinct parts, the basement, the pedestal, the Caryatides, the shield, and the cenotaph. The basement rested on four massive gilt wheels. It was profusely adorned with rich ornaments which were covered with frosted gold. Upon this basement stood groups of cherubs, seven feet high, supporting a pedestal eighteen feet long, covered with burnished gold. This pedestal was hung with purple velvet embroidered with gold. Upon it stood fourteenCaryatides, antique figures larger than life, and entirely covered with gold, supporting with their heads and hands an immense shield of solid gold. This shield was of oval form, and eighteen feet in length, and was richly decorated. Upon the top of this shield, nearly fifty feet from the ground, was placed the cenotaph, an exact copy of Napoleon’s coffin. It was slightly veiled with purple crape embroidered with golden bees. On the cenotaph, upon a velvet cushion, were placed the sceptre, the sword of justice, the imperial crown, in gold and embellished with precious stones.
“The Church of the Invalides had been magnificently adorned for the solemn ceremony. Thirty-six thousand spectators were seated upon immense platforms on the esplanade of the Invalides. Six thousand spectators thronged the seats of the spacious portico. In the interior of the church were assembled the clergy, the members of the Chambers of Deputies and of Peers, and all the members of the royal family and other distinguished personages from France and Europe.
“As the coffin, preceded by the Prince de Joinville, was borne along the nave upon the shoulders of thirty-two of Napoleon’s Old Guard, all rose and bowed in homage to the mighty dead.” Louis Philippe, surrounded by the great officers of state, then stepped forward to receive the remains.
“Sire,” said the prince, “I present to you the body of the Emperor Napoleon.”
“I receive it,” replied the king, “in the name of France.” Then taking from the hand of Marshal Soult the sword of Napoleon, and presenting it to General Bertrand, he said, “General, I charge you to place this glorious sword of the Emperor upon his coffin.”
Beneath the lofty dome of the church, where the massive tomb of Napoleon has since been erected, a magnificent cenotaph in the form of a temple had been reared. Within this richly decorated catafalque the coffin of Napoleon was reverently and solemnly placed, thus fulfilling the last wish of the Emperor, expressed in these memorable words, “It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people whom I have loved so well.”
“He who united in himself alone the glory of Alexander, of Cæsar, of Charlemagne, and of Louis XIV., took his place in the Invalides, which, during his life, he had marked as the place of heroes.” His devoted Generals Bertrand and Duroc now lie beside him. A few aged veterans of the Old Guard still watch over him. The sunlight, softened by the rich tints of the costly windows, falls lovingly upon his tomb, and his cherished memory lives in the hearts of his beloved people, growing more beautiful, more triumphantly venerated, and sacredly respected with each passing year. As his faithful veterans cast their crowns of flowers at the foot of his coffin, with trembling voices they lovingly though mournfully cried, “Vive l’Empereur!” and this loved Emperor still lives in the hearts of his people, royally enshrined in a nation’s undying love.
Transcriber’s Notes:Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Warenne, Earl of Surrey, was spelled both as Warren and Warrene throughout the text. This was retained. Varied hyphenation retained as printed.Page xi, “Kremlin” changed to “Krémlin” (The Krémlin of Moscow)Page 15, “Aphrodite” changed to “Aphrodité” (mother, Aphrodité, caught him)Page 80, “enthusiam” changed to “enthusiasm” (enthusiasm of Alexander’s)Page 157, “guantlets” changed to “gauntlets” (garnished with gauntlets)Page 160, “Debonnaire” changed to “Débonnaire” (called Louis le Débonnaire)Page 163, “Debonnaire” changed to “Débonnaire” (his son Louis le Débonnaire)Page 272, “seige” changed to “siege” (and commenced its siege)Page 279, “cortége” changed to “cortège” (brilliantcortègeglittering)Page 372, illustration caption, “KREMLIN” changed to “KRÉMLIN” (THE KRÉMLIN OF MOSCOW)Page 441, “endeavord” changed to “endeavored” (enemies who endeavored)Page 442, “Sardina” changed to “Sardinia” (king of Sardinia together)Page 445, “pontroon” changed to “pontoon” (and four pontoon trains)Page 446, “striction” changed to “stricken” (terror-stricken inaction)Page 454, “Friendland” changed to “Friedland” (of Friedland and Tilsit)Page 454 “Tuilieries” changed to “Tuileries” (Tuileries in a splendid)Page 460, “Kremlin” changed to “Krémlin” (established in the Krémlin)Page 461, “Lutzen” changed to “Lützen” (of Lützen, which is)Page 473, “falshood” changed to “falsehood” (prejudice, and falsehood)Page 475, “cortege” changed to “cortège” (funeral cortège was to pass)
Transcriber’s Notes:
Obvious punctuation errors repaired. Warenne, Earl of Surrey, was spelled both as Warren and Warrene throughout the text. This was retained. Varied hyphenation retained as printed.
Page xi, “Kremlin” changed to “Krémlin” (The Krémlin of Moscow)
Page 15, “Aphrodite” changed to “Aphrodité” (mother, Aphrodité, caught him)
Page 80, “enthusiam” changed to “enthusiasm” (enthusiasm of Alexander’s)
Page 157, “guantlets” changed to “gauntlets” (garnished with gauntlets)
Page 160, “Debonnaire” changed to “Débonnaire” (called Louis le Débonnaire)
Page 163, “Debonnaire” changed to “Débonnaire” (his son Louis le Débonnaire)
Page 272, “seige” changed to “siege” (and commenced its siege)
Page 279, “cortége” changed to “cortège” (brilliantcortègeglittering)
Page 372, illustration caption, “KREMLIN” changed to “KRÉMLIN” (THE KRÉMLIN OF MOSCOW)
Page 441, “endeavord” changed to “endeavored” (enemies who endeavored)
Page 442, “Sardina” changed to “Sardinia” (king of Sardinia together)
Page 445, “pontroon” changed to “pontoon” (and four pontoon trains)
Page 446, “striction” changed to “stricken” (terror-stricken inaction)
Page 454, “Friendland” changed to “Friedland” (of Friedland and Tilsit)
Page 454 “Tuilieries” changed to “Tuileries” (Tuileries in a splendid)
Page 460, “Kremlin” changed to “Krémlin” (established in the Krémlin)
Page 461, “Lutzen” changed to “Lützen” (of Lützen, which is)
Page 473, “falshood” changed to “falsehood” (prejudice, and falsehood)
Page 475, “cortege” changed to “cortège” (funeral cortège was to pass)