of course stricken from the list of marshals. Loaded with honors in the second Restoration, he proved a second time faithless, and in 1830 betrayed his trust to the republicans. The people called him Judas, and he died in exile, honored by nobody.

Convinced that his abdication would not save the Empire at Alexander's hands, Napoleon despatched a messenger requesting the Empress to send Champagny immediately to Dijon as an ambassador to intercede with her father; and then, on April 4, he summoned a conclave of his officers to secure their assent to the battle which he believed inevitable. It was the call to this meeting which had stampeded Souham and his colleagues in desertion. The greater officers being absent, the minor ones present were unanimous and hearty in their support of Napoleon's plans. But at the very close of the session came the news of what had happened at Essonnes. When finally assured of every detail, Napoleon took measures at once to repair as best he could the breaches in his defense, saying of Marmont quietly and without a sign of panic, «Unhappy man, he will be more unhappy than I. Only a few days before he had declared to Caulaincourt: «There are no longer any who play fair except my poor soldiers and their officers that are neither princes nor dukes nor counts. It is an awful thing to say, but it is true. Do you know what I ought to do? Send all these noble lords of yesterday to sleep in their beds of down, to strut about in their castles. I ought to rid myself of these frondeurs, and begin the war once more with men of youthful, unsullied courage.» He was partly prepared, therefore, even for the defection of Marmont. Next morning, on the 5th, was issued the ablest proclamation ever penned by him; at noon the veterans from Spain were reviewed, and in the afternoon began the movements necessary to array beyond the Loire what remained of the army and rally it about the seat of imperial government. But at nine the embassy returned from Paris with its news the Czar had refused to accept the abdication; the senate was about to proclaim Louis XVIII; Napoleon was to reign henceforth over the little isle of Elba. To this the undaunted Emperor calmly rejoined that war henceforth offered nothing worse than peace, and began at once to explain his plans.

But he was interrupted-exactly how we cannot tell; for, though the embassy returned as it left, in a body, the memoirs of each member strive to convey the impression that it was he alone who said and did everything.

VOL. LII.-95.

If only the narrative attributed to Caulaincourt were of undoubted authenticity, cumulative evidence might create certitude, but it is not. Apparently the sorry tale of what occurred makes clear that all three were now ardent royalists, for in passing they had concluded a truce with Schwarzenberg on that basis. Macdonald asserts that his was the short and brutal response to Napoleon's exhibition of his plans; to wit, that they must have an abdication without conditions. Ney was quite as savage, declaring that the confidence of the army was gone. Napoleon at first denounced such mutiny, but then, with seeming resignation, promised an answer next day. He did not yet know that in secret convention the generals were resolving not to obey the orders issued for the morrow; but as the door closed behind the marshals the mind so far clear seemed eclipsed, and murmuring, «These men have neither heart nor bowels; I am conquered less by fortune than by the egotism and ingratitude of my companions in arms,» the great, homeless citizen of the world sank into utter dejection. Since 1808 he had worn about his neck as a kind of amulet a little bag said to contain a deadly poison, one of the salts of prussic acid. That night, when the terrors of a shaken reason overpowered him, it is believed that he swallowed the drug. Instead of oblivion came agony, and his valet, rushing to his master's bedside at the sound of a bitter cry, claimed to catch the words:

Marmont has struck me the final blow! Unhappy man, I loved him! Berthier's desertion has broken my heart! My old friends, my comrades in arms!» Ivan, the Emperor's body physician, was summoned, and administered an antidote; the spasm was allayed, and after a short sleep reason resumed her seat. It is related in the memoirs of Caulaincourt, and probably with a sort of Homeric truth, that when the reputed writer was admitted in the early morning Napoleon's «wan and sunken eyes seemed struggling to recall the objects round about; a universe of torture was revealed in the vaguely desolate look.» Napoleon is reported as saying: «It is not the loss of the throne that makes existence unendurable: my military career suffices for the glory of a single man. Do you know what is more difficult to bear than the reverses of fortune? It is the baseness, the horrible ingratitude, of men. Before such acts of cowardice, before the shamelessness of their egotism, I have turned away my head in disgust and taken my life in horror. . . . What I have suffered for twenty days no one can understand.>>

What throws some shadow on this account is the fact that on the following morning Napoleon appeared outwardly well and perfectly calm when he assembled his marshals and made a final appeal. It is certain, on the testimony of his secretary and his physician, that he had been violently ill, but the sobriety of the remaining chronicle is doubted; perhaps the empty sachet had contained a preparation of opium intended to relieve sharp attacks like that at Pirna; the evident motive of what has been called the imperial legend is to heighten all the effects in the Napoleonic picture. Whatever was the truth as to that gloomy night, the appeal next morning was in vain, and the act of unconditional abdication was written in these words: «The allied powers having declared the Emperor Napoleon to be the sole obstacle to the reëstablishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that for himself and his heirs he renounces the thrones of France and of Italy, because there is no personal sacrifice which he is not ready to make in the interest of France.» With this document Ney hurried back to the capital, and the elderly, well-meaning, but obtuse Louis XVIII was immediately proclaimed king by the senate. Having learned nothing and forgotten nothing, he accepted the throne, making certain concessions to the new France sufficient, as he hoped, to secure at least the momentary support of the people. The haste to join the white standard of those upon whom Napoleon's adventurous career had heaped honor and wealth is unparalleled in history. Jourdan, Augereau, Maison, Lagrange, Nansouty, Oudinot, Kellermann, Lefebvre, Hulin, Milhaud, Latour-Maubourg, Ségur, Berthier, Belliard-such were the earliest names. Among the soldiers near by some bowed to the new order, but among the garrisons there was such wide-spread mutiny that royalist hate was kindled again and fanned to white heat by the scoffs and jeers of the outraged men. Their behavior was the outward sign of a temper not universal, of course, but very common among the people. At Paris both the King's brother and the King were cheered on their formal entry, but many discriminating onlookers prophesied that the Bourbons could not remain long.

Fully aware that Napoleon was yet a power in France, and challenged by the marshals to display a chivalric spirit in providing for the welfare of their former monarch, Alexander gave full play to his generous impulses. His first suggestion was that his fallen foe should accept a home and complete establishment in

Russia; but this would have been to ignore the other members of the coalition. It was determined finally to provide the semblance of an empire, the forms of state, an imperial income, and make the former Emperor the guest of all Europe. The idea was quixotic, but Napoleon was not a prisoner; he had done nothing worthy of degradation, and throughout the civilized world he was still regarded by vast numbers as the savior of European society, who had fallen into the hands of cruel oppressors. The paper which was finally drawn up was a treaty between Napoleon, for the time and purposes of the instrument a private citizen, as one party, and the four sovereign states of Austria, Prussia, Russia, and England as the other. It had, therefore, no sanction except the public opinion of France and the good faith of those who executed it, the former being bound by her allies to a contract made by them. It was France which was to pay Napoleon two millions of francs a year and leave him to reign undisturbed over Elba; the allies granted Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla as a realm in perpetuity to Marie Louise and her heirs through the King of Rome, as her successors. The agreement was unique, but so were the circumstances which brought it to pass. There was but one important protest, and that was made by Castlereagh in regard to the word Napoleon and the imperial style! His protest was vain, but to this day many among the greatest of his countrymen persistently employ « Bonaparte» in speaking of the greater, and «Napoleon» in designating the lesser, of the two men who have ruled France as emperors.

Four commissioners, one from each of the powers, proceeded to Fontainebleau. They were careful to treat Napoleon with the consideration due to an emperor. To all he was courteous, except to the representative of Prussia, Count Truchsess-Waldburg, whose presence he declared unnecessary, since there were to be no Prussian troops on the southern road toward Elba. As the preparations for departure went forward it became clear that of all the imperial dignitaries only Bertrand and Drouot would accompany the exile. The others he dismissed with characteristic and appropriate farewells: to Caulaincourt he assigned a gift of five hundred thousand francs from the treasure at Blois; Constant, the valet, and Roustan, the Mameluke, were dismissed by their own desire, but not emptyhanded. For his line of travel, and for a hundred baggage-wagons loaded with books, furni ture, and objects of art, Napoleon stipulated

with the utmost nicety and persistence. «They blame me that I can outlive my fall,» he remarked. «Wrongfully. . . . It is much more. courageous to survive unmerited bad fortune.» Only once he seemed overpowered, being observed, as he sat at table, to strike his forehead and murmur, «God, is it possible!» All was ready on the 20th, but the Empress, who by the terms of the «treaty » was to accompany her consort as far as the harbor of St. Tropez, did not appear. Napoleon declared that she had been kidnapped, and refused to stir, threatening to withdraw his abdication. Koller, the Austrian commissioner, assured him of the truth, that she had resolved of her own free will not to be present. In the certainty that all was over, the imperial government at Blois had dispersed, Joseph and Jerome flying to Switzerland, and the Empress finally taking refuge with her father.

The announcement staggered Napoleon, but he replied with words destined to have great significance: «Very well, I will remain faithful to my promise; but if I have new reasons to complain I shall consider myself absolved. Further, he touched on various topics as if seeking to talk against time, remarking that Francis had impiously sought the dissolution of his daughter's marriage; that Russia and Prussia had made Austria's position dangerous; that the Czar and Frederick William had shown little delicacy in visiting Maria Louisa at Rambouillet; that he himself was no usurper; that he had been wrong not to make peace at Prague or Dresden. Then, suddenly changing tone and topic, he asked with interest what would occur if Elba refused to accept him. Koller thought he might still take refuge in England. Napoleon rejoined that he had thought of that, but, having always sought to do England harm, would the English make him welcome? Koller rejoined that, as all the projects against her welfare had come to naught, England would feel no bitterness. Finally, about noon, Napoleon descended into the courtyard, where the few grenadiers of the old guard were drawn up. The officers, commissioned and non-commissioned, were called forward, and in a few touching words their former leader thanked all who had remained true for their loyalty. With their aid he could have continued the war beyond the Loire, but he had preferred to sacrifice his personal interests to France. "Continue to serve France,» runs the Napoleonic text of this fine address; but the commissioners thought they heard «to serve the sovereign which the nation has chosen.» He could have ended his life, he went on to say,

but he wished to live that he might record for posterity the great deeds of his warriors. Then he embraced Petit, the commanding officer, and, snatching to his breast the imperial eagle, his standard in so many glorious battles, he pressed it to his lips, and entered the waiting carriage. A swelling sob burst from the ranks, and tears bedewed the weather-beaten cheeks of men who had not wept for years.

Napoleon's journey was sufficiently comfortable as far as Lyons; occasionally there were outbursts of good feeling from those who stopped to see his train pass by. But in descending the Rhone the change was marked. As the Provençals had been the radicals of the Revolution, so now they were the devotees of the Restoration. The flood of disreputable calumny had broken loose; men said the Emperor's mother was a loose woman, his father a butcher, he himself but a bastard, his true name Nicholas. «Down with Bonaparte! down with Nicholas,» was too often the derisive shout as he traversed the villages. It was learned that Maubreuil, the hired assassin, was hurrying from Paris with a desperate band, ostensibly to recover crown jewels or government funds which might be among Napoleon's effects. Near Valence, on April 24, Augereau's carriage was met. The arch-republican of Napoleon's earlier career alighted, the exEmperor likewise. Napoleon asked if the general were on his way to court. The thrust went home, but in a gruff retort Augereau, using the familiar «thou,» declared that he had had no motive for his conduct except love of his country. Partly by good fortune, partly by good management, the cortège avoided the infuriated bands who, in various places, had sworn to take the fallen Emperor's life. Near Orgon a mob of royalists beset his carriage, and Napoleon shrank in pallid terror behind Bertrand, cowering there until the immediate danger was removed by his Russian escort, when he donned a postilion's uniform and rode unhurt through the town. Rumors of the bitter feeling prevalent at Aix led him for further protection to clothe one of his aides in his own too-familiar garb. In that town he was violently ill, somewhat as he had been at Fontainebleau. The attack yielded easily to remedies, and the Prussian commissioner asserted that it was due to a loathsome disease. Thereafter the hounded fugitive wore an Austrian uniform, and sat in the Austrian commissioner's carriage; thus disguised, the Emperor of Elba seemed to feel secure. From Luc onward the company was protected by Austrian hussars, but in spite of these mili

tary jailers, mob violence became stronger from day to day in each successive town. Napoleon grew morbid, and the line of travel. was changed to avoid the ever-increasing danger. The only alleviation in the long line of ills was a visit from his light but affectionate sister, Pauline, who comforted him and promised to join his exile. At length Fréjus was reached, and Napoleon resumed his composure as he saw an English frigate and a French brig lying in the harbor.

Again Napoleon remarked a breach of his << treaty. He was to have sailed from St. Tropez in a corvette; here was only a brig. Accordingly, as if to mark an intentional slight, in reality for his safety and comfort, he asked and obtained permission to embark on the English frigate, the Undaunted, as the guest of her captain. The promised corvette was at St. Tropez awaiting its passenger, but the hasty change of plan had made it impossible to bring her around in time. Possibly for this reason, too, the baggage of Napoleon had been much diminished in quantity, and of this he complained also, as being a breach of his treaty. His farewell to the Russian and Prussian commissioners was brief and dignified; the Austrian hussars paid full military honors to the party, and as the Emperor, accompanied by the English and Austrian commissioners, embarked, a salvo of twentyfour shots rang out from the Undaunted. Already he had begun to eulogize England and her civilization, and to behave as if throwing himself on the good faith of an English gentleman exactly as a defeated knight would throw himself on the chivalric courtesy of his conqueror. This appearance of distinguished treatment heightened his self-satisfaction. His attendants said that once again he was << all emperor.>> It was a serious blow when, on passing aboard ship, he discovered that the salutes had been in recognition of the commissioners, and that the polite but decided Captain Ussher was determined to treat his illustrious guest with the courtesy due to a private gentleman, and with that alone. Although chafing at times during the voyage against the restrictions of naval discipline, Napoleon submitted gracefully, and wore a subdued air. This was his first contact with English customs: sometimes they interested him; frequently, as in the matter of afterdinner amusements and Sunday observance, they irritated him, and then with a contemptuous petulance he withdrew to his cabin. In conversation with Koller, the Austrian commissioner, he once referred to his conduct in disguising himself on the road to Fréjus as

pusillanimous, and admitted in vulgar language that he had made an indecent display of himself. In general his talk was a running commentary on the past, in which, with apparent ingenuousness, interpretations were placed on his conduct which were thoroughly novel. This was the beginning of a series of historical commentaries lasting with interruptions to the end of his life. There is throughout a unity of purpose in the explication and embellishment of history which will be considered later. On May 4 the Undaunted cast anchor in the harbor of Porto Ferrajo.

THE EMPEROR OF ELBA.

ELBA was an island divided against itself, there being both imperialists and royalists among its inhabitants, and a considerable party which desired independence. By representing that Napoleon had brought with him fabulous sums the Austrian and English commissioners easily won the Elbans to a fervor of loyalty for their new emperor. Before nightfall of the 4th the court was established, and the new administration began its labors. Having mastered the resources and needs of his pygmy realm, the Emperor began to deploy all his powers, mending the highways, fortifying the strategic points, and creating about the nucleus of four hundred guards which were sent from Fontainebleau an efficient little army of sixteen hundred men. His expenses were regulated to the minutest detail both at home and abroad; the salt works and iron mines, which were the bulwarks of Elban prosperity, began at once to increase their output, and taxation was regulated with scrupulous nicety. By that supereminent virtue of the French burgher, good management, the island was made almost independent of the remnants of the Tuileries treasure (about five million francs) which Napoleon had brought from France. The same powers which had swayed a world operated with equal success in a sphere almost microscopic by comparison. Before long the Princess Borghese, separated soon after her marriage from her second husband, and banished since 1810 from Paris for impertinent conduct to the Empress, came, according to promise, to be her brother's companion, and Madame Mère, though distant in prosperity, came likewise to soothe her son in adversity. The intercepted letters of the former prove her to have been at least as loose in her life at

1 For Captain Ussher's own account of the voyage, and of the Emperor's table-talk, see THE CENTURY for March, 1893.-EDITOR.

Elba as ever before, but they do not afford a sufficient basis for the scandals concerning her relations with Napoleon which were founded upon them, and industriously circulated at the court of Louis XVIII. The shameful charge has no adequate foundation of any sort.

Napoleon's economies were rendered not merely expedient, but imperative, by the fact that none of the moneys from France were

imperial residence, openly struggling for Napoleon's favor as they had so far never dared to do; success too frequently attended their efforts. But the one woman who should have been at his side was absent. It is certain that she made an honest effort to come, and apartments were prepared for her reception in the little palace at Porto Ferrajo. Her father, however, thwarted her at every turn, and finally she was a virtual prisoner at

DRAWN BY MALCOLM FRASER.

A FRASER

forthcoming which had been promised in his treaty with the powers: After a short stay Koller frankly stated that in his opinion they never would be paid, and departed. The island swarmed with Bourbon spies, and the only conversation in which Napoleon could indulge himself unguardedly was with Sir Neil Campbell, the English representative, or with the titled English gentlemen who gratified their curiosity by visiting him. During the summer heats when the court was encamped on the heights at Marciana for refreshment, there appeared a mysterious lady with her child. Both were well received and kindly treated, but they withdrew themselves entirely from the public gaze. Common rumor said it was the Empress; but this was not true; it was the Countess Walewska, with the son she had borne to her host, whom she still adored. They remained but a few days, and departed as mysteriously as they had come. Base females thronged the precincts of the

FROM A RECENT PHOTOGRAPH.

Schönbrunn. So manifest was the restraint that her grandmother, Caroline, Queen of the Two Sicilies, cried out in indignation, «If I were in the place of Maria Louisa, I would tie the sheets of my bed to the window-frame and flee.» Committed to the charge of the elegant and subtle Neipperg, a favorite chamberlain whom she had first seen at Dresden, he plied her with such insidious wiles that at last her slender moral fiber was entirely broken down, and she fell a victim to his charms. As late as August Napoleon received impassioned letters from her; then she grew formal and cold; at last, under Metternich's urgency, she ceased to write at all. Her French attendant, Meneval, managed to convey the whole sad story to her husband, but the Emperor was incredulous, and hoped against hope until December. Then only he ceased from his incessant and urgent appeals.

The number of visitors to Elba was enormous, sometimes as high as three hundred in