After the myriad lamps that lighted all the avenues of the magnificent grounds of the Champs Elysées during the evening of the celebration, had been extinguished, and the tread of the vast multitude, and the hum of their voices, had given place to the silence and darkness of night, a sound like the passing wing of an eagle was heard sweeping by, and lo, a colossal shade stood on the top of the arch of triumph. It was that of Napoleon wrapped in the blue mantle that folded him on the night after the battle of Marengo. As he stood and surveyed the scene, he called to his side the shade of his son, and then summoned from their distant fields of fame his vast and slumbering armies from Egypt, from Palestine, from Italy, from Spain, from the snow-drifts of Russia and the glaciers of the Alps, from Marengo, and Austerlitz, and Jena, and Wagram, and Friedland, and Leipsic, and Waterloo, the dead armies, headed by their respective leaders, came forth and marched silently and swiftly forward. As they approached the vault of the arch under which they were to pass, Napoleon pointed out each brave leader to his son. Kleber and Desaix, and Lannes bearing the banner of Lodi and the sabre of honor of Marengo, and Augereau, with the flag that he carried through the tempest of fire that swept the bridge of Arcola, Lefebvre, and the two Kellermans and the brave Massena, each followed by their tens of thousands passed in succession, their shadowy footfalls giving back no echo. As column after column swept under the arch, the colossal shade on the top cried out, "close up your ranks and press forward, for the morning approaches, and I wish to see you all before the day dawns." The brave grenadiers marched up, followed as was their wont in the desperate charge, by the thundering squadrons of Bessieres. Murat, on his prancing steed, came after, stooping as he bounded beneath the vault, as though his plume would reach the lofty arch. Poniatowsky, and Rapp, and last of all, Ney, the bravest of the brave, without arms, pale, and pierced with wounds received on no battle-field, moved by with their thousands, and the pageant was over. But before they disappeared, the colossal shade stooped and pointed with his sword to the arch. A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the sides, and there these heroes saw their names inscribed in imperishable rock.

With the first streakings of dawn in the east, the vast and shadowy host disappeared.

The sentinel on watch that night at the entrance of the arch, said that all night long the wind groaned and swept in strange whispers through the trees of the Champs Elysées and the vault of the arch. It was the swift marching of the ghostly columns in this "review of the dead."

Could such a marshalling of the hosts of Napoleon take place, what a spectacle would be presented. Before the amazing scenes that would rise one after another in rapid succession, the mind and senses would be overwhelmed.

But there is another review, though not appealing to the senses, which is still more startling and terrific--a review embracing the progress of civil freedom, which marched with those iron columns, whose heavy footsteps sounded the death-knell of tyranny in all Europe--the waking up of the human mind from the sleep of ages, to think and act for itself--the rending of fetters--the sudden daylight poured on man's oppressions--the breaking up of old systems--the upheaving of thrones--the development of moral power, and the final launch of the world, with all its hopes and interests, upon the turbulent sea of democracy.

In my "Napoleon and his Marshals," I gave a succinct review of the relations the former sustained to the nations of Europe, fixing the guilt of the wars he waged with such fierceness on the governments that surrounded him. Having since observed that those who differed with me took those statements as mere assertions, I shall be pardoned for devoting the last chapter of this work to proofs of what I then said, in order to show that while describing his deeds, and those of his Guard, I have not been eulogizing mere warriors, fighting only for renown, but men engaged the greater part of the time in the cause of freedom.

In the first place, no one who professes to give an opinion on history denies that the first coalition against France was without the least provocation. The people chose to get rid of the Bourbons and establish a republic, and the allied powers chose they should not. Their only pretence for going to war against a nation with which they were at peace, was, that a republic endangered the tranquillity of Europe, and the stability of their thrones. They considered this an ample reason and needing no defence, and so France was assailed on every side.

As we, in both our wars with England, directed our efforts at once against Canada, so did France move against the Austrian possessions in Italy, and for the same reason, viz., because she could more easily reach her enemy there. The only difference in the two cases is, that we, especially in 1812, waged what some might term an offensive war, while that of the republic was entirely a defensive one. Therefore, as general of the French army in Italy, Bonaparte did nothing more than obey his government, while his government, in assailing its enemy, did that which no one can for a moment condemn. Hence, it is not difficult to designate the authors of these bloody wars.

But after defeating the Austrians, it is said he marched into Rome, and treated a neutral power as an enemy, for the sole love of conquest. Let us look at the facts: Under the mediation of Spain, an armistice had been concluded with the Papal States, at Bologna, and ratified at Rome. But Cardinal Busca, who succeeded Cardinal Zelada as Secretary of State, repudiated this armistice, and openly formed a connection with Austria, with which France was at war, and attempted to raise an army. Having chosen to break his plighted word, and become an enemy to the republic, the Pope could not expect otherwise than to share the fate of an enemy. As good fortune would have it, the courier sent from Rome to Vienna with despatches announcing this alliance, was intercepted near Mezzolo. These despatches declared that the "armistice of Bologna would not be executed, notwithstanding the loud complaints of the French minister, Cacault--that the Pope was raising troops, and that he had accepted the commander-in-chief proposed by Austria, and requested that general to bring with him a good number of officers, engineers, and artillery." Cacault, of course, was ordered by the French government to leave Rome at once, and Napoleon marched into the capital of his Holiness. With regard to the levies he made on the Pope for thus violating the armistice, and allying himself with an enemy, I have nothing to say, for my purpose is not to defend a single action of Napoleon, as a man or a ruler, except it relates to the simple question of peace and war. I wish only to show on whose shoulders rests the responsibility of those terrific wars which we have so long charged to Bonaparte, and which make it seem so criminal in any one to defend him.

The campaign in Egypt which followed, was undertaken entirely for conquest. Russia had the north and most of the west of Asia; England possessed the south; and Bonaparte declared that France should claim the Levant. The expedition was based on the self-same motives which prompted England to wage an aggressive war in India, and the United States in Mexico; and no reasonable mind would ever adduce it, except to prove that France, like all other nations, desired colonies, and was not very scrupulous about the method of obtaining them.

We now come to the appointment of Bonaparte as First Consul.

After his elevation to the head of affairs, he was responsible for the acts of government; for he was, in fact, the government, long before he placed on his head the imperial crown.

His first act, on assuming the direction of affairs, was noble, and clears him triumphantly from the charge of being the author of the war that followed. Stepping aside from the usual path of diplomacy, he wrote, with his own hand, two letters--one to the king of England, and another to the emperor of Germany. To the first, he said, "Called, Sire, by the wishes of the French nation, to occupy the first magistracy of the Republic, I judge it well, on entering my office, to address myself directly to your majesty.

"Must the war which, for the last eight years, has devastated the four quarters of the world, be eternal? Are there no means of coming to an understanding? How can the two most enlightened nations of Europe, stronger already and more powerful than their safety or their independence requires, sacrifice, to the ideas of vain-glory, the well-being of commerce, internal prosperity, and the peace of families? How is it that they do not feel peace to be the first of necessities as the first of glories?

"These sentiments cannot be strangers to the heart of your majesty, who governs a free people, with the sole aim of rendering it happy.

"Your majesty will perceive only in this overture the sincerity of my desire to contribute efficaciously, for the second time, to a general pacification by this prompt advance, perfectly confidential and disembarrassed of those forms, which, perhaps necessary to disguise the dependence of weak states, reveal, when adopted by strong states, only the wish of mutual deception.

"France and England, by the misuse of their powers, may yet, for a long period, retard, to the misery of all nations, their own exhaustion. But I venture to say that the fate of all civilized nations is connected with the termination of a war which has set the whole world in flames.

"(Signed), BONAPARTE.

"First Consul of the French Republic."

He wrote at the same time to the emperor of Germany, the following letter:

"Having returned to Europe after an absence of eighteen months, I find a war kindled between the French Republic and your majesty.

"The French nation has called me to the occupation of the first magistracy.

"A stranger to every feeling of vain-glory, the first of my wishes is, to stop the effusion of blood which is about to flow. Everything leads me to foresee that in the next campaign, numerous armies, well conducted, will treble the number of victims who have already fallen since the resumption of hostilities. The well known character of your majesty leaves me no doubt as to the secret wishes of your heart. If those wishes are only listened to, I perceive the possibility of reconciling the interests of the two nations.

"In the relations which I have formerly entertained with your majesty, you have shown me some personal regard; I beg you, therefore, to see in this overture, which I have made to you, the desire to respond to that regard, and to convince your majesty more and more of the very distinguished consideration which I feel towards you.

"(Signed), BONAPARTE."

Here was a frank and generous challenge to peace, made in all sincerity, to two nations which had so long waged an unprovoked war against France. The king of England would not condescend to reply directly, but sent an answer through his minister; and instead of meeting these advances towards a pacification, he made out a long list of charges against France, accusing the Republic of violent and oppressive acts, declaring that in the present change of the government he saw no guarantee for the future--in short, that nothing could satisfy his majesty but the restoration of the house of Bourbon. The whole reply was weak and ridiculous, and was so regarded by sensible men at the time. Bonaparte, instead of yielding to indignation, replied in courteous terms. Reviewing the past, he proved conclusively that France took up arms solely to resist an aggressive war, made on her by Europe banded together to overthrow the Republic; and while he did not deny that acts of violence had been committed, he more than hinted that they who had attacked France with such animosity; should look to themselves as the cause of them. "But," he added, "to what good end are all these reminiscences? Here is now a government well disposed to put an end to war. Is the war to be eternal, because this or that party was the first aggressor? And if it be not desired to render it eternal, must there not be first an end made of these endless recriminations? At all events, if they could not make a peace at once, let them agree on an armistice and give time and facilities for coming to a good understanding." Lord Grenville, the English minister, seeing the ridiculous and unpleasant attitude in which Bonaparte had placed him, replied in worse temper and worse reasoning than before, and finally confessed that England waged war "for the securityof all governments," and no offers of peace would be listened to.

Austria replied in a more becoming manner, and for once was perfectly honest, for she declared that "war was carried on, only to preserve Europe from a general earthquake." "The security of all governments," and the prevention of "a general earthquake," meant the same thing, namely, the destruction of a mighty republic that had arisen from under a throne in the midst of their thrones. Bonaparte, of course, understood the import of this language--it was saying emphatically, "We do not want peace; we will not even entertain a proposition for it until the republic is no more." Fox, Sheridan, Lord Holland, and others, bore down with tremendous power on this decision of the British government. "You ask," said they, " who was the aggressor? and what matters that? You say that it is France, and France says that it is England. Is it then necessary to maintain an internecine war until both nations shall agree on a point of history. And what matters it who is the aggressor, if that party which is accused thereof be the first which offers to lay down its arms! You say it is useless to treat with France. Yet yourselves sent Lord Malmsbury to Lille to treat with the Directory. Prussia and Spain have treated with the French Republic, and have had no cause for complaint. You speak of ambition, but Russia, Prussia, and Austria, have divided Poland. Austria has reconquered Italy without restoring to their states the princes dispossessed by France. Either you will never treat at all with the French Republic, or you will never find a more favorable moment for doing so. Unless it be confessed that Great Britain, her blood, her treasure, all her resources, the most precious, are to be wasted for the re-establishment of the house of Bourbon, no good reason can be assigned why we should now refuse to treat" Tierney, also, hit the government to the quick--said he, "Do you remember the war with America? Is it not rather for the principle IT represents youarestriving." Sheridan referring to the capitulation to Brune, of the late English expedition against Holland, said, "It seems that if our government cannot conclude treaties of peace with the French republic, it can at least conclude capitulations."

Bonaparte forced into a war, soon made Europe tremble with the tread of his legions. The battles of Engen and Maeskirk, Ulm, Genoa, Montibello, crowned with the terrible slaughter of Marengo, rest not on Bonaparte, nor on the French Republic, but on England and Austria, which refused even tonegotiate for peace. From this last battle-field, Bonaparte, deeply affected by the spectacle it presented, wrote again a long letter to the emperor of Austria. Forgetting, in the impulse of the moment, the ceremonious forms of diplomacy, he said, "It is on the field of battle, amid the sufferings of a multitude of the wounded, and surrounded by 15,000 corpses, that I beseech your majesty to listen to the voice of humanity, and not to suffer two brave nations to cut each other's throats for interests not their own. It is my part to press this on your majesty, being upon the very theatre of war. Your majesty's heart cannot feel it so keenly as does mine." After the first emotions had subsided, he felt somewhat mortified that he had given way to such impulsive expressions to men who calculated everything by the cold rules of diplomacy, and in speaking of the letter to the consuls, he told them with an air of chagrin, they "might think it somewhat original, but it was written on the field of battle."

An armistice followed, and so anxious was Bonaparte to contract a treaty of peace, that the Austrian minister at Paris was persuaded to sign articles conditionally, although he was not empowered to do so.

But this long armistice wore away without any definite results, and the campaign of Hohenlinden followed. Austria, now thoroughly alarmed, agreed to sign a peace immediately, although the terms insisted on by Bonaparte were much harder than those he had induced the Austrian minister during the armistice to sign conditionally. It is true France acquired territory by this treaty, and she had a right to do so. Austria could expect nothing else from a nation it had forced into a war. The great expense and sacrifice necessary to secure the marvelous victories which had saved France, demanded some reward. It is worthy of remark here, that all the possessions Bonaparte obtained, were given up by treaty to compensate for an unjust and aggressive war. This was the peace of Luneville, signed the 9th of February, 1801. I will say nothing of the conditions of that treaty, whether hard on the allies or not. Whatever they might think of them, they had themselves only to thank.

Both England and Austria at last discovered that they could treat with the French Republic, for it began to dawn on them that while fighting for the security of other governments, they might not be able to take care of their own.

In October of this year, the celebrated peace of Amiens was concluded, and Europe was at rest. Among other conditions in this treaty, England was to evacuate Egypt and Malta, and France evacuate Naples, Tarento, and the Roman States. Bonaparte carried out his part of the treaty in two months, while ten months passed away and England took no steps to evacuate Malta and Egypt. When pressed to execute the terms of a solemn treaty she shuffled and procrastinated until at length the First Consul's interference in the affairs of Switzerland gave her a pretext for her refusal. Revolution and counter-revolution were wrecking the Swiss Confederacy, and Bonaparte, called upon for help, marched his troops to the frontiers, and put down the oligarchs. The expeditions and just manner in which he settled the difficulties, brought forth warm congratulations from both the Russian and Prussian cabinets. England was astonished to see the only available excuse for violating a treaty taken from her hands, but remained stubborn to her purpose.

At length Bonaparte put the question categorically to the English minister, Lord Whitworth, "Will you or will you not execute the treaty of Amiens? I have executed it on my part with scrupulous fidelity. That treaty obliged me to evacuate Naples, Tarento, and the Roman States within three months, in less than two all the French troops were out of those countries. Ten months have elapsed since the exchange of the ratifications and the English troops are still in Malta and at Alexandria. It is useless to try to deceive us on this point; will you have peace, or will you have war?" He declared that he would not see that solemn treaty violated--it would disgrace the French nation and prove her incapable of defending her honor. "For my part," said he, "my resolution is fixed; I had ratherseeyou in possession of the heights of Montmartre than of Malta." He wound up by saying, " Now, if you doubt my desire to preserve peace, listen, and judge how far I am sincere. Though yet very young, I have attained a renown to which it would be difficult to add. Do you imagine I am willing to risk this power in a desperate struggle? But if I have a war with Austria, I will contrive to find my way to Vienna. If I have a war with you, I will take from you every ally on the continent." In this frank manner he went on declaring what he wished and what he would do, if forced again into a war, saying--that if England was bent on perpetual war, he would endeavor to cross the straits, "and, perhaps, bury in the depths of the sea his fortune, his glory, and his life." He strained every nerve to preserve the peace, and even endeavored to compromise the matter, by offering to put Malta into the hands of the Emperor of Russia in trust, until the differences between France and England could be settled. Nothing, however, would do; England was bent on a rupture, and Bonaparte seeing that all his efforts were useless, said, "Henceforth the treaties must be covered with black crape." On the 20th of May, 1803, he issued a proclamation declaring the rupture of the treaty of Amiens. No one acquainted with history doubts on whom the guilt of involving Europe in the war that followed, and of deluging her plains in blood rests. Even Alison, a high tory English writer, and who never loses an opportunity to exculpate his country on the most frivolous pleas, is compelled to hold the following remarkable language: "In coolly reviewing the circumstances under which this contest was renewed, it is impossible to deny that the Britishgovernmentmanifested a feverish anxiety to come to a rupture, and that so far as the two countrieswere concerned, they were the aggressors."

Bonaparte immediately prepared for war, and the invasion of England occupied all his thoughts. In the meantime, however, the Emperor of Russia offered his mediation, which Napoleon at once accepted, and proposed to make him "sole arbiter of the great quarrel which occupied the world." He even promised "to give a bond by which he would engage to submit to the award of the Emperor Alexander, whatever it might be, confided entirely in his justice." England knowing the injustice of her cause, refused to make Alexander supreme judge in the case, but had no objections to use him as an agent, which she endeavored to do. This Bonaparte resented, and abruptly abandoned the project.

Alexander, however, young, ambitious, and giddy, became persuaded that it devolved on him to settle the affairs of the continent A plan was therefore set on foot for the reconstruction of Europe. This plan contained many generous features and many whimsical ideas. When submitted to the English government it was shorn of its visionary portions and despoiled of its generosity. It was, however, a god-send to England, for by her superior diplomacy she made it the groundwork of a new coalition against France. I cannot go into the history of this coalition. After many alterations and long discussions, &c., a plan was formed which proposed four things: 1st. To cut down France to her former limits before the revolution--i.e., to take away from her all she had gained in a defensive war, and which had been secured to her by treaty with these very powers. Its first object, therefore, was the same as if the allied powers should now combine to take from us the territory recently ceded to us by Mexico. The only difference in the two cases would be that France won her possessions in resisting aggression, and her domination was preferred by the people themselves; while we gained ours by an unprovoked war, and forced unwilling subjects to submit to our authority. The 2d grand proposition was to dispose of all the weaker states as the allies thought proper, without any reference to the wishes of the states themselves. Austria and Prussia, which would be compelled to bear the brunt of the struggle, they knew must reap some decided advantage from the coalition, or they would not join it. Lombardy was, therefore, promised to Austria, and all the Low Countries to Prussia, while the Republics of Italy which Napoleon had formed should be parcelled out to different sovereigns. A more villainous transaction could not have been concocted. Its aim, of course, was to extinguish all the independent states governed by free principles which Napoleon had set up and defended.

The last proposition was in general terms, thrown in as a saving clause to cover all their transactions--it was "to establish a system of public right throughout Europe." This "public right" meant security against republican principles. Bonaparte, in resisting the aggressive war of Austria, conquered her possessions in Italy, and had a perfect right to incorporate them into France. But this he refused to do, and instead, erected them into a republic. It was not the conquests that Bonaparte was making that alarmed the sovereigns of Europe, but the independent republics he formed from the possessions he wrung from the enemy, and to which that enemy could show no title. These republics, all looking to the powerful arm of Napoleon for protection, were like so many ghosts to monarchs, standing and pointing at their thrones.

This coalition, called the third, which, in the end, was to cover Europe with the slain, progressed slowly, and seemed averse to enter on the dreadful struggle without some excuse to conceal the real motives that swayed it. At length that excuse was found in the incorporation of Genoa and the Cis-Alpine Republic into the French Empire. The 11th article of the treaty of Luneville says, "The contracting parties shall mutually guarantee the independence of Batavia, the Helvetian, Cis-Alpine, and Ligurian Republics, and the right to the people who inhabit them to adopt whatever formofgovernment they think fit." The merging of these Italian republics, therefore, was declared a violation of that treaty and a sufficient cause for war. Look at the honesty of the pretence here set up. A year before this took place, these same upholders of sacred treaties had formed the plan to give Holland to Prussia, as a bribe for her cooperation; Lombardy, to Austria; and the Ligurian Republic to Sardinia. After having deliberately resolved to quench these free States, which they had guaranteed to preserve, they had the audacity to declare that the merging of them into the French Empire was the cause of the coalition. Certainly if these republics were to disappear as independent governments, they belonged to France. She had conquered them and refrained originally from incorporating them into her, because she preferred to make them free. More than this, who could blame Napoleon when he saw a vast conspiracy forming against him, the plan of which he could not get at, for strengthening himself on every side? This young and enthusiastic ruler had dreamed in his ambition, of reconstructing society, of advancing civil freedom and waking up men to new views and hopes, and for this purpose had made republics out of conquered states. But now he looked around him and saw the strongest monarchies of Europe concerting together for his overthrow. With whom could he combine to resist them--with what powers could he form an alliance? There was nothing left to sympathise with him but those grateful young republics, and who could blame him for wishing their aid to stay up his empire? Any monarch threatened as he was, would have done it. But the infamous coalition had not even this excuse. By that very article of the treaty of Luneville it was guaranteed "to the people the right to adopt whatever form of government they thought fit," and that right they exercised in choosing that of the French Empire. Napoleon did not incorporate these republics into his empire--he did not subvert the free governments he had given them. The Cis-Alpine Republic and Genoa, separately, in Legislature assembled, passed a decree requesting to be taken into that Empire. They saw a coming storm and avoided it in the best way they could. Separately, they could do nothing against a coalition. They would be wiped out with a single blow. Holland was to be given to Prussia; why should not she prefer to ally herself with France which had restored her independence? The Cis-Alpine Republic was to go back to the dreaded and hated domination of Austria; why should she not prefer the sway of Napoleon, when he guaranteed to her free laws? Genoa was to be handed over to the tyrannical king of Sardinia; how could she do otherwise than ask the protection of the French eagles? All these states saw that trouble was brewing, and they knew whatever shape it took, the success of the allies would ensure their overthrow. No alternative, therefore, was left them, and as they had a right to choose their own form of government, they of course had the right also to choose their relations to France. That Napoleon, when he saw the drift of things, desired and sought the incorporation of these separate republics into his empire, no one doubts. France had changed into a monarchy, and a corresponding change would naturally pass over those who relied for safety on her protection; still no violence or threats were used. The senate of Genoa, by a vote of twenty out of twenty-two, resolved to ask to be incorporated into the French Empire in order to partake of its fortunes and enjoy its prosperity. This vote, before being executed, was submitted to the people. Registers were opened, and the people called upon to give their suffrages on the question. The majority in favor of the incorporation was overwhelming. Lucca sent the same request, but Napoleon refused, and made it instead a separate principality. The Cis-Alpine, or, as it had become, the Italian Republic, through its vice-president, Count Melzi, asked of the French Senate to be incorporated into the Empire, declaring "it saw no other way of saving its infant institutions." The Vice President then read "the fundamental articles of the act of settlement by which Napoleon was declared King of Italy." Holland, though long ago conquered by the French, was still a free state, though a close ally of France, and bound by treaty to share her fortunes. As the final disappearance of this old commonwealth into a monarchy, with a brother of Napoleon at its head, has often been bitterly denounced, it may not be amiss to glance at its history. For a long succession of years the Netherlands were divided into two parties, Orange and anti-Orange. Without referring to other differences, it is necessary for our purpose to state only that the anti-Orange was the republican party. These two factions strove against each other with various successes till 1747, when the Orange party triumphed and the dignity of Stadtholder was made hereditary in the family of William IV. In 1786, however, the republicans again obtained the ascendancy and drove the Stadtholder out of the provinces. But Prussia coming to the rescue with 25,000 men, the Orange party was reinstated in power. The French Revolution followed, and when in 1794 the republican army approached the frontiers of Holland, the patriots again rose, and with its aid, overthrew the hereditary Stadtholder. A republic was immediately formed after the model of that of France. The result was, Great Britain declared war against her and robbed her of some of her most valuable colonies, and nearly destroyed her commerce and finances. This is the famous conquest of Holland by France. She put an end to her internal troubles, and gave her a free and independent government, while England, which declaimed so loudly against the rapacity of the new republic, robbed her of her territory as unscrupulously as she has since robbed India of her possessions. It was owing to the bankruptcy which England had caused that compelled her at length to seek admission into the French Empire. In view of the evils that embarrassed the state, the states- general sent four ambassadors to Paris, who declared that Holland saw no escape from bankruptcy, and requested, as a favor, to be incorporated into the empire. "They even proffered to let their debt remain chargeable upon themselves and to make every exertion to pay, provided they were no longer called upon to submit to a greater amount of taxation than the French. These ambassadors remained four months in Paris and were finally authorised to offer the crown to Louis. "We come," said they, "of our own accord and supported by nine-tenths of the suffrages of our fellow countrymen to entreat you to unite your fate with ours, and to raise a whole people from the perils with which they are threatened." Napoleon was compelled to command before he could induce his brother to accept the crown. So much for the destruction of this ancient commonwealth, brought about by British avarice and not French ambition. But this fusion of the republic into that of France did not take place till long after the coalition I have been speaking of. At that time it was independent and sustained no relation to France, except that of an ally.

Although the offer of this commonwealth could not bribe Prussia into the coalition formed by England and Russia, the latter promised to precipitate secretly a large army upon her frontier, under the pretence of protecting her, which should, and did prove a conclusive argument. Austria, however, voluntarily came into it, and the campaign of Austerlitz followed. For the bloody battles that were only preparatory to the crowning slaughter at Austerlitz, who is responsible? Not Napoleon, not France but the coalition. The treaty of Presbourg immediately succeeded this brilliant victory, and Austria and France were at peace. Russia, Prussia, and England, however, maintained the contest, and the campaigns of Jena, Eylau, and Friedland, followed--all the sad results of this infamous coalition, which Napoleon, however, with his terrific blows broke into a thousand fragments. The peace of Tilsit again put the continental powers at peace, but England feeling safe in her isolated position, still maintained her belligerent attitude.

The troubles with Spain succeeded this interregnum of war. I shall not attempt to defend this invasion, although viewed through the medium of European diplomacy there is much that might be said in palliation of Napoleon's conduct. His entrance into Spain was welcomed by the intelligent portion of the realm as calculated to put an end to the internal troubles and the weak government under which they suffered. Napoleon was not so much deceived by the representations made him, as many suppose. Joseph would have been welcomed by the strength of the nation, and the partial resistance soon have ceased, but for the interference and encouragement of England.

But granting all that the bitterest enemy may say of Napoleon's conduct towards Spain, which all things considered, is doubtless very like our treatment of Mexico, what shall we say of the authors of the campaigns of Abensberg, Landshut, Eckmuhl, Aspern, and Wagram, and at whose doors shall we lay the guilt of covering Europe with mangled and bleeding hosts? Thus far history is plain and the testimony of candid historians, although enemies, harmonise in one conclusion. Even the uncandid are compelled to resort to the ridiculous assertion that the allies were justified in their course, because they foresaw clearly the mounting ambition of Napoleon. It was necessary to check at once this ambitious spirit that otherwise would ride over Europe. It is an old proverb, "there is no reasoning against prophecy." It is always the resort of a weak cause. But still unprejudiced men will think that to create a war in order to prevent one--to set Europe in a blaze to keep it from taking fire, is rather a novel mode of proceeding. Besides, to punish a person in advance because he may do wrong, to hang a man to prevent him from committing murder, or cast him into a prison because he shows a strong tendency to steal, would be considered a very singular mode of administrating law. If this mode of reasoning can be justified, the original holy alliance has now a perfect right to demand Kossuth and chain him to a rock in the midst of the ocean, as it did Napoleon, because his freedom endangers, in their opinion, the peace of Europe, and in case of refusal on our part, to declare war against us. Certainly if the reasoning is ever good that England and Russia, without one foot of their territory being violated, have a right to form a coalition against all independent power because they think the "security of Europe" requires it, they have that right now, and it makes no difference whether it be France or America which is to be struck.

Leaving Spain with all the obloquy and wrong attached to its invasion without a word of excuse, what, as I said before, shall be said of the new war that followed in Germany. The ruddy fields of Abensberg, Landshut, Eckmuhl, Aspern, and Wagram covered with mangled men cry out for vengeance against some one. Who violated the treaty of Presbourg, Napoleon or the Emperor of Austria? The former was in Spain with his army, far removed from any interference with the German Empire. Why then did Austria arm herself and plunge Central Europe again into all the horrors of war? Because she thought that Napoleon was so entangled in the mountains of Spain that she could strike him a mortal blow before he could recover himself. I have never seen, from the most prejudiced writer, any defence of this violation of a sacred treaty on the part of Austria. Napoleon was enraged, and stigmatized it, "A war without an object, and without a pretext." "Thrice, said he, "has Austria perjured itself." Yet how few Americans in reading the description of the battles of Aspern and Wagram fail to utter exclamations of horror against Napoleon, as though on his soul rested the blood of the slain, whereas he was enraged beyond measure at the perfidy of Austria which forced him to recall his troops from Spain.

The treaty of Vienna followed, by which Austria lost extensive possessions. France gained territory--what other indemnification could she receive for such an expensive war, forced on her in the face of a sacred treaty, and what other punishment could Napoleon inflict on a perjured nation, that like an assassin, had endeavored to stab his empire in the dark? Napoleon is not to blame for wresting territory from Austria as a compensation for the losses of war, but for not dismembering her, dividing her three crowns, thus prostrating her independence and power forever.

I have not time to go into the changes produced in Switzerland and Italy, besides I am not defending Napoleon's acts, except when the simple question as to the authors of a war is to be settled.

Thus far it is easy to fix the guilt of nearly every war that desolated Europe for so many years. They were brought about by some or all of the allied powers under the pretence of guarding against danger or to get back territory which had been ceded by treaty.

The next war, the one with Russia, grew out of the irritation of the latter at the great accessions of territory to the French Empire, and from the fear that Napoleon would attempt to reinstate Poland. Leaving aside all other ostensible and real motives, the war would doubtless have been prevented, had Napoleon consented to the demand of Russia, "that the kingdom of Poland should never be established, and that her name should be effaced forever from every public and official act." There were other causes of grievances on both sides, but not enough to have disturbed the peace of Europe, could this have been guaranteed. Napoleon consented to "bind himself to give no encouragement tending to its re-establishment,'' but he would not go a step farther. The slight to the Emperor Alexander's sister by abruptly breaking off the negotiation of marriage, and the swallowing up of the possessions of the Grand Duke of Oldenburg, his brother-in-law, were among other incitements to hostility; but the fear that this Colossus, who strode with such haughty footsteps over Europe, might yet lay his hand on Poland and wrest from him his ill-gotten possessions, was at the bottom of the warlike attitude which he assumed. This fact which cannot be denied, shows that Napoleon had done nothing that could sanction Russia in breaking that alliance, offensive and defensive, formed at the peace of Tilsit. But France needed but little provocation to justify her in assailing a power that with short intervals had so long waged an unprovoked war against her. Removed so far from the theatre of hostilities, Russia had been able to inflict severe troubles on France while the latter could do nothing in return but crush her armies.

In short, Alexander entered on this war because he anticipated encroachments on his possessions, obtained some fifteen years before by one of the most unholy conquests recorded in the annals of modern civilization. Napoleon was not averse to the war, for he also began to look out for the future, and there could be no better time than now when all Europe marched under his standard, not only to chastise Russia for the injury she had done France, but to prevent her from inflicting it in future. Without doubt there was blame on both sides, but the unprejudiced reader of history will, all things considered, have no hesitation in placing the heaviest proportion on Russia.

But what shall be said of the desolating wars that followed the disasters of the Russian campaign? Austria and Prussia had both entered into a solemn treaty with Napoleon and put their troops under his command in the invasion of Russia, yet no sooner did they behold his army in fragments than with a perfidy and meanness unparalleled in the history of civilized nations, they joined hands with Russia, and rushed forward to strike with deadlier blows an already prostrate ally. It is generally regarded a point of honor among men never to desert a friend and ally in distress--and to fight by the side of a friend one day against a common enemy, and on the next turn and smite him for no other reason than because bleeding and staggering under the discomfiture he has met with he is no longer able to defend himself, is considered the meanest act of an ignoble soul and the last step to which human baseness can descend. I suppose it will be unnecessary for me to attempt to prove on whom rests the guilt of the battles of Lutzen, Bautzen, Dresden, Culm, Gros Beren, Katzback, Dennewitz, Leipsic, with its awful slaughter, and Hanau--or of those other murderous engagements on the soil of France--of the battles of Brienne, Rothiere, Champaubert, Montmirail, Vauchamps, Monterea, Craon, Laon, and of Paris, unless it is necessary to prove a monarch has a right to defend his crown, and a brave people their own soil. Villainy for once, at least, triumphed, and perfidy and treachery were rewarded with success. Prussia and Austria by falling suddenly on their prostrate ally succeeded in strangling him.

The coalition was successful, and Napoleon robbed of his crown and his empire was sent toElba. It was natural that the monarchs of Austria and Prussia, whose thrones, Napoleon when he held them in his power had respected, should crown their debasement by taking from him his. A few months before they had sworn to defend him against Russia, and now at her request to strip him not merely of his possessions but of his crown, was only doing as violators of their oaths and betrayers of friends have always done.

Like villains of a baser sort, however, they began to quarrel over the spoils they had obtained. There was mustering of armies and all the preparations for a bloody war, but they at length each retired with his portion.

There is but one more war the guilt of which it is necessary to fix before the curtain drops on the public life of Napoleon, and the Holy Alliance has it all its own way on the continent. The manner in which Napoleon mounted his recovered throne was the best title to it he could have had. The heart of the people replaced him there, and as his triumph had been peaceable, so did he wish his reign to be. No one is so insane as to assert that he desired the war that ended in the disasters of Waterloo. War was declared against him by the infamous coalition which had so often attempted his overthrow. To his offers of peace the allies returned no answer, for they had none to give. His complete destruction would satisfy them, and nothing else. He strove nobly to save himself, but could not. The dead at Quatre Bras, Ligny, and Waterloo are silent but awful witnesses against the tyranny that forced them to struggle for monarchs who were governed solely by ambitious views and unworthy jealousies. The defence set up for the allies that Napoleon would not long be quiet, I have before considered. To cause sixty thousand men to be slain in order to prevent a nation from declaring war, may do very well at the tribunal of European diplomacy, but before the "court of high heaven," it will meet with a different reception. Besides Napoleon offered to form a treaty of peace, and they could not suppose he could break it with more deliberate faithlessness than England had violated the treaty of Amiens, or Austria that of Presbourg, or both Austria and Prussia their plighted word after the disasters of the Russian campaign. Neither could Russia believe he would grasp any state with more cruel ferocity, and oppress it with heavier burdens than she had seized and loaded Poland. England it is true might be compelled to give up the French possessions in the West Indies which she had seized as a part of her spoil, and the time might arrive when Napoleon would bring to terrible account the faithless allies who had turned on him in his misfortunes, and stripped him of his empire. All this may be very true, and furnish an easy explanation to the war that closed with the night on the field of Waterloo, but in heaven's name charge not the terrible slaughter and suffering that accompanied it to Napoleon. Never in a worse situation to carry on hostilities, he would have signed almost any treaty rather than have risked his throne in a premature struggle. What he might have done in the future, what wars he might have waged, and what guilt he might have incurred, I leave to prophets to determine; but for the war which finished him, and the sufferings attached to it, he is guiltless.

In this review I have touched only on the chief points because I had not space to treat the matter more fully. My motive has been to show that the gallant deeds of the Old Guard, which I have recorded, are not to be classed with those of Caesar's legions. The part Napoleon and his Guard performed is one of the most important in history. The hand of heaven is visible throughout. They were destined to shatter feudalism into a thousand fragments, and no less power than theirs could have done it. Where would have been civil freedom in Europe, without them--where that progress in the knowledge of the people respecting their rights, which has since shorn kings of their pride and taught them civility to their subjects? In struggling for the divine right of kings and the security of monarchies, the haughty and unscrupulous powers of Europe undermined both. Instead of burying republicanism fathoms deep, they sowed dragons' teeth, the fruit of which they are now reaping.

The truth is, our prejudices have all been obtained from English papers and English literature. But if one wishes to know how much these can be relied on, let him turn to the same papers and same authorities, and read the accounts of the war of 1812. If we believe the one history we should the other. It is true, in abiding by this fair rule, we would be compelled to put ourselves in the same category with Napoleon, and look upon our government as alone guilty of that war. By her showing, England never yet was wrong. But alas, history proves that although she declaimed so loudly against Napoleon's grasping spirit, she has since acquired more territory in the Indies than she ever charged him with conquering. Let us beware how we adopt the opinions of the enemies of republicanism as our own, and render all honor to the brave who have borne a part second only to ourselves in the regeneration of all human governments.

In conclusion, I would ask my countrymen to look at the conduct of Russia in the last struggle of Hungary for liberty. What sent the northern hordes against that brave people and laid their liberties and their nationality in the dust? Rest assured the same motive that sent her against the French Republic and afterwards against Napoleon. What now causes Austria to whip and imprison Hungarian ladies and patriots and expel Americans from her borders as if they were degraded criminals?--the same motive that impelled her to break treaties and violate her honor in the effort to overthrow Napoleon, viz., "the security of governments," "to prevent a general earthquake." What induces the king of Naples to fill the prisons of his kingdom with the noblest men in it? The "security of government." What places the continent under a general system of espionage and makes domiciliary visits necessary and suspected persons criminals without testimony?--"securityofgovernment." What causes us to be viewed with a jealous, suspicious eye--our movements watched--our actions misrepresented, and our institutions slandered? "the security of government. What lies at the bottom of the horrible oppressions that are weekly borne to our ears from the despotisms of Europe? The same that lay at the foundation of the perfidy and falsehood, and perjury, and perpetual wars that discrowned Napoleon, and for a while hushed the cry of freedom, that rising from revolutionary France, swept like a whirlwind over Europe. Remember this when you hear of the "balance of power," "security of government," which are terms used simply to cover up the oppressions, and barbarity, and selfishness that have made the thrones of Central Europe for so many ages a curse to mankind. Remember that in siding with feudalism you condemn yourselves.