from the throne. Bernadotte was then suggested by the Emperor of Russia. In stepped Talleyrand, and, in a cunning, jesuitical speech, made out that there was no chance of permanent settlement of Europe except from the Bourbons, the legitimate sovereigns of France. But the sovereigns declared that they, foreigners, could not decide-it was for the nation to speak. Talleyrand pronounced the name of the Senate, of whom, late so servile to Napoleon, he was sure. A proclamation called on this body to meet and deliberate.

Everywhere royalist committees sat. They were in raptures; all they had to do was, to decide the Senate, to influence its debate, to have the allied kings on their side. A deputation waited on Alexander; his minister, Nesselrode, saw them, and spoke the definitive word,' Louis XVIII. shall ascend to the throne of his ancestors.' Great was the rejoicing of the monarchists. They prepared to move public opinion; insults and outrages of the grossest character assailed Napoleon; these men, late so meek and mild, lavished abuse on the man to whom but yesterday they had bowed to the ground. Chateaubriand published a pamphlet worthy of an Aretin, a Marat, or a hired libeller, which he had concealed in his desk for months:

Napoleon was painted in it under the features of a modern Attila, or under the still more odious features of an hangman, executing with his own hands the sentence for which he thirsts. He was described at Fontainebleau, torturing the conscience of Pius VII.,and dragging the pontiff by his white hairs on the cold stones of his prison; this pontiff a martyr to his complaisance and resistance to the crowned parvenu. M. de Chateaubriand opened every prison, to point out to the people the tortures, the gags, the pretended silent assassinations of his victims. He moved even ashes from those of Pichegru to those of the sick at Jaffa, to drag forth accusations, suspicions, crimes. It was the indictment of humanity and liberty, written by the hands of the Furies against the great criminal of the age. He did not even spare him those vile accusations of sordid avarice and simony which penetrate farthest, and soil the most, in the vulgar and venal mind of the multitude. Robbery, cowardice, cruelty, iron, poison, everything was to him an arm to kill this renown, which he wished to crush.'-Pp. 220, 221.

This bad action, as Lamartine justly calls it, produced mighty effects at the time against Napoleon, though, as its falsehoods and calumnies became apparent, it aided powerfully the restoration of his popularity. The people were puzzled when they heard the name of the Bourbons. It had forgotten them, but wearied of military despotism, it was disposed to receive anything which gave relief from the grinding tyranny of ten years.

When flowery pictures were painted of the wise Louis,

storm. A devoted lieutenant of the Empire, Belliard, stepped forward and told him all. Napoleon stood silent, annihilated, cold perspiration poured off him; then rousing himself, he gave vent to his rage in abuse of his lieutenants, ordered all these scattered forces to collect, and make one desperate effort more. But every instant, generals, colonels, officers, arrive, who convince him that all is over. He drew Caulaincourt on one side, and bade him find the allied sovereigns, and sign any treaty. Caulaincourt came back in his hour, unable to cross the lines. Napoleon bade him try again, and then turned on his way to Fontainebleau, where he took up his residence in an entrésol Everywhere his minister met the troops furious, burning with desire to march on the enemy; but

'While the last ranks of his army protested with their last breath against ingratitude, the civil and military chiefs with whom he had shared the spoils of the world were making arrangements with his conquerors, and giving up his throne to save their titles and their treasures.'-P. 184.

Caulaincourt, after passing through the gay and splendid troops of the allies, is only smuggled into Paris in the carriage of the Grand-Duke Constantine, and then, disguised as a Russian, to the presence of Alexander, who received him kindly, familiarly, and generously, speaking with affection and respect of Napoleon, but declaring his reign and dynasty incompatible with the peace of Europe. Caulaincourt tried to convince him that the enthusiasm of which he spoke relative to the Bourbons was only a sham, as in truth it was; but Alexander replied, that the nation would have nothing imposed on it. It should choose freely. He ended by promising to advocate the regency of Marie-Louise. But the great trickster, that man of cunning and intrigue, Talleyrand, was at work. He was determined to have the Bourbons, but first himself. Napoleon had always known him for a traitor, but he feared him, and now the astute and ambitious statesman was his greatest enemy. Alexander, the King of Prussia, the Prince of Schwartzenberg, the Prince of Lichtenstein, and Count Nesselrode, met in conference that night. Alexander opened the debate. He spoke in favour of the cause of constitutional liberty; repudiated conquest and despotism in the name of humanity and the dignity of nations; and firmly opposed the partition of France. It was at once decided to dethrone Napoleon. The Duke of Alberg advocated the regency of Marie-Louise, put forth to try the ground by Talleyrand; M. Pozzo di Borgo declared the very name of the usurper's family incompatible with the peace of Europe. The conclave decided that the Bonaparte family should be utterly excluded

from the throne. Bernadotte was then suggested by the Emperor of Russia. In stepped Talleyrand, and, in a cunning, jesuitical speech, made out that there was no chance of permanent settlement of Europe except from the Bourbons, the legitimate sovereigns of France. But the sovereigns declared that they, foreigners, could not decide-it was for the nation to speak. Talleyrand pronounced the name of the Senate, of whom, late so servile to Napoleon, he was sure. A proclamation called on this body to meet and deliberate.

Everywhere royalist committees sat. They were in raptures; all they had to do was, to decide the Senate, to influence its debate, to have the allied kings on their side. A deputation waited on Alexander; his minister, Nesselrode, saw them, and spoke the definitive word,' Louis XVIII. shall ascend to the throne of his ancestors.' Great was the rejoicing of the monarchists. They prepared to move public opinion; insults and outrages of the grossest character assailed Napoleon; these men, late so meek and mild, lavished abuse on the man to whom but yesterday they had bowed to the ground. Chateaubriand published a pamphlet worthy of an Aretin, a Marat, or Marat, or a hired libeller, which he had concealed in his desk for months:

Napoleon was painted in it under the features of a modern Attila, or under the still more odious features of an hangman, executing with his own hands the sentence for which he thirsts. He was described at Fontainebleau, torturing the conscience of Pius VII.,and dragging the pontiff by his white hairs on the cold stones of his prison; this pontiff a martyr to his complaisance and resistance to the crowned parvenu. M. de Chateaubriand opened every prison, to point out to the people the tortures, the gags, the pretended silent assassinations of his victims. He moved even ashes from those of Pichegru to those of the sick at Jaffa, to drag forth accusations, suspicions, crimes. It was the indictment of humanity and liberty, written by the hands of the Furies against the great criminal of the age. He did not even spare him those vile accusations of sordid avarice and simony which penetrate farthest, and soil the most, in the vulgar and venal mind of the multitude. Robbery, cowardice, cruelty, iron, poison, everything was to him an arm to kill this renown, which he wished to crush.'-Pp. 220, 221.

This bad action, as Lamartine justly calls it, produced mighty effects at the time against Napoleon, though, as its falsehoods and calumnies became apparent, it aided powerfully the restoration of his popularity. The people were puzzled when they heard the name of the Bourbons. It had forgotten them, but wearied of military despotism, it was disposed to receive anything which gave relief from the grinding tyranny of ten years. When flowery pictures were painted of the wise Louis,

the heroic Charles, the admirable Duke d'Angoulême, the Duke de Berry surpassing Henry IV., France listened and smiled.

The Senate selected a provisional government; the municipal council published a bitter proclamation against Napoleon; and an appeal for Louis XVIII. The Senate voted the removal of the Bonaparte family from the throne in a series of resolutions, which were a series of severe accusations against Napoleon, an act of baseness in an assemblage of creatures of the fallen emperor, who betrayed their master to save themselves. All France raised a murmur of indignation against this once servile crew, now so insolent. The Legislative body came to the same resolution, but without preamble. The allies, however, were uneasy, and Napoleon still hoped. Nothing was decided as long as he was at large. M. de Talleyrand, his royalist friends, the republicans, diplomatists, foreign generals, Senate, Legislative body, the National Guard, all despite the vast hordes of foreign bayonets, still trembled at the thought of a bold and desperate resolution on the part of the emperor. They united to implore the marshals to render all movement on his part impossible, by yielding up or disbanding their armies.

Caulaincourt brought to Napoleon the news of his fall; he replied by assembling his troops, and calling on them to march on Paris with him. The men were ready. Napoleon saw this, and he determined to concentrate every soldier he had, and under the walls of Paris to fight a decisive battle. But his officers, those of high rank, thought not of him, but of themselves; they had their peace to make with the new powers, and they were not disposed to risk all in a desperate adventure. They were already negotiating with Talleyrand to betray their master, whom they pretended to adore while fortune smiled. Oudinot, the Bayard of the Republic and Empire, himself cried out against the madness of a chief who wished to play so reckless and desperate a game. Napoleon passed the night in complaints and imprecations. He spoke of his march on Paris the next day as a certain thing. The night passed in these illusions. But though he knew it not, his reign was over.

During the interval which elapsed between the signing of the treaty and the departure of Napoleon from Fontainebleau, but few visitors came to see him, while he himself was revolving in his head, already, the means of regaining his empire. One of the first necessities with him was, reunion with his wife and child. His wife with him in exile, he was sure of the respectful compassion of the world, and the secret favour of Austria. He professed to treat this condition as a matter of course. He forgot how little he had respected such feelings. But neither Marie Louise nor the allied sovereigns were disposed to adhere to this

view of the matter. She evidently did everything to join her father in preference to her husband. Napoleon, however, wrote to her as if he never doubted, giving, while waiting his departure for Elba, various orders relative to his private affairs and interests. He soon found that his wife and son were on the road to Vienna, and then for an instant he doubted. He had fixed his departure for twelve o'clock in the day. He wanted first to say adieu to his army; he did so. But this scene is too well known, and we pass it over, as we must also the historic resumé which Lamartine makes of Napoleon's character, which is one of the ablest things of the kind that we know of in modern French literature.

The Bourbons had a magnificent opportunity in succeeding such a man. They had but to be true to the nation, to adopt all that was good in the revolution, all that was practical, had but to unite monarchy and liberty, to be firmly seated on the throne. Seven princes and five princesses returned to France. Louis XVIII., the Count D'Artois, his ten children, the Dukes of Angoulême and Berry, the Prince de Condé, the Duke de Bourbon, and the Duke of Orleans, were the princes. Louis was sixty. During the life of Louis XVI. he had been of a studious, familiar and feminine character-without virility of mind or body. He was superior to his brother Louis XVI. and to the superficial and hasty Count D'Artois, but he tried to hide his superiority under an air of humility. Jealous of the graces of his younger brother, he tried to outshine him in solid acquirements. He studied history, politics, political economy, and government; he wrote much and about all things, light and serious; published poetry and plays. He surrounded himself by philosphers and theory-makers; but though sceptical in religion, and an advocate of reform in the State, he looked upon the Church and monarchy as personally necessary to him. He saw that a revolution was inevitable; he thought himself destined to lead it. On the convocation of the States General, he sided with the tiers etat, as long as the monarchy was not touched, and even then tried to keep up his popularity. At last, however, he fled like the rest.

The future Charles X. was a prince of a past age. He was a Frenchman by his faults, a Frenchman half Louis XIV., half Louis XV., but without a shadow of the grandeur of the first. He was not brave, and some of his own partizans even accused him of absolute cowardice. But he was obstinate in his love of despotism, in his hatred of all progress, all liberty, all enlightenment. Converted to religion by a dying and beloved mistress, he became, from the gay and chivalrous prince, a mere tool in the hands of priests. From the hour of the death of