This plebeian soldier had changed the contempt with which royal blood regarded him, into deadly fear; and he whom they deemed fit only for the assassin's knife, was now worthy of the haughtiest alliance, and the daughter of the Caesars became the wife of Napoleon.

It is strange how slight an event will change the features of the world. Napoleon first proposed to marry one of the royal family of Russia. The emperor was delighted with the project, but the queen-mother suggested difficulties, and demanded delay. This did not suit the impetuous nature of Bonaparte, and he immediately broke off negotiations with Russia and offered himself to the house of Austria, and was accepted. This latter alliance, from which he hoped so much, proved of no benefit to him, except to facilitate his operations against Russia, which in the end proved his ruin. Austria regards family ties no more than treaties or honor. Treacherous and base, no reliance can be placed on her fidelity to any thing but her self interest.

Russia on the other hand, had the two dynasties been united, would have proved a close ally to France. That fearful invasion of her territories would have been prevented, and the two emperors could have divided Europe between them, if they chose, and prostrated England in the dust.

The last war with Austria had impressed Napoleon still more deeply with the value of the Old Guard, and he took advantage of the first interval of peace to augment its strength. Holland had fallen into his hands, and he incorporated into his Guard the grenadiers of the Holland Guard. He created also musical corps for the eight regiments of the Young Guard already in existence, and doubled the officers of health attached to the chief hospital. In two years he had more than doubled its number.
 

Napoleon frequently entertained the Parisians with a grand review of his troops, especially of his Guard. This always took place on the Sabbath, to give all an opportunity of witnessing it, just as that day has ever been made a sort of fete day by the French. On the 3d of June, of this year, he held one of these grand reviews in presence of the dignitaries of the empire, and ambassadors from almost every court of Europe. A chamberlain of the emperor of Russia, the count of Trawinsoff, was then at the French court, ostensibly to enroll a troupe of comedians for the imperial theatre of St. Petersburg. He was accredited simply as a charge, but Napoleon knew perfectly well that graver matters than a troope of comedians were entrusted to him. On the morning of the review of his Guard, he asked him to be present and give his opinion of it. The count having no desire to see the redoubtable corps which at Austerlitz and Eylau had conquered the finest troops of his master, declined on the ground that he had no horse. The emperor replied he would give him one of his own, and the count was compelled to accept the invitation. As the clock struck twelve, there arose from the different corps of the Guard which some time before had taken position in the court of the Tuileries, a loud murmur of expectation succeeded by a profound silence. The rattling of a scabbard and the clicking of spurs as the booted heel came down upon the marble floor of the peristyle was heard, and the next moment a little man in a green uniform, the modest epaulettes of a colonel on his shoulders, a plain chapeau on his head, the signs of the Legion of Honor, and the crown of iron, the only ornaments on his breast, stepped forth. He paused and made a gesture with his hand, and in a few seconds a group of officers in splendid uniforms, with their hats in their hands, surrounded him. The drums then beat the salute, a single command like an echo rolled from officer to officer the whole length of the line, and with a clattering sound, the entire army as if it had been one man, presented arms--the colors in one vast cloud stooped towards that little man in green uniform, and "Vive l' Empereur," rolled like thunder to the heavens.

Napoleon then mounted his favorite horse Marengo, whose head was always in motion as if impatient like his master to be off on a gallop, and rode along the lines. Just as he was about to pass into the ranks, a young man seventeen or eighteen years of age, rushed out of the multitude and ran towards him, shaking a paper which he held in his hand above his head. Paying no heed to the repeated order of "back, back," he was pushing on, when a grenadier seized him by the collar and forced him towards the spectators. But he still shook his paper and cried out over the noise of the multitude, "Sire, Sire," to the emperor. The latter said coldly, "Let the young man approach." The grenadier immediately released him, and presenting arms stood like a statue. The young man sprang forward and fell at the feet of Marengo. "What do you want?" said Napoleon, as he stooped in his saddle to take the paper. The poor petitioner said nothing, but looked beseechingly at the emperor, while the tears rolled down his cheeks. Napoleon tore off the envelope and casting his eye over the petition, said to the young man, "Arise, to none but God should you kneel; from what I see, your mother has never left Paris." There was no reply and casting his eye again on the paper, he said in a low voice, "I have been deceived respecting this woman who I was told had emigrated and then mixed herself up in political intrigues. There was nothing in it." Then raising his voice, he added, "My young friend, tell your mother that from this moment she has a pension of twelve hundred francs from my own purse." Overwhelmed by this sudden elevation from the depths of despair, the poor youth stood a moment, while the hue of death crept over his features, his eyes closed and sinking on his knees he pitched forward, his head striking heavily against the legs of Marengo as he fell. The frightened steed reared bolt upright and but for an aid-de- camp, who seized him by the bridle, would doubtless have flung his imperial rider. A cry of terror rose from the multitude, but the next moment as they saw him quietly dismount and advance towards the young man, there went up a shout that shook the field.

An officer immediately called aloud for a surgeon. "Let him alone, sir," said Napoleon quietly, " a surgeon is useless, joy is never fatal at this age. He needs only a little cool water." One of the spectators ran and fetched some in his hat from a neighboring fountain. Napoleon threw a few drops on the poor fellow's face when he opened his eyes. Seeing the emperor stooping over him, he seized one of his hands and kissed it in a transport of enthusiasm. "Was not I right?" said Napoleon pleasantly. "To horse, gentlemen." At evening that youth sent another petition, that he might fight till death for the emperor. He was enrolled in the foot chasseurs of the Guard.

This to an ordinary general would be an unimportant affair, yet many a victory of Napoleon grew out of just such incidents. This young chasseur would be worth a whole company in a desperate charge. With the eye of his benefactor on him, nothing but death could arrest his progress, and his example in battle would make heroes of all around him.

At the time this was transpiring, another incident of a comic character, yet equally illustrative of Napoleon's love for the brave, and of his tact in winning their unbounded devotion, occurred in another part of the field. Gros, one of the generals of the chasseurs of the Old Guard, was a tall, powerful man, with a voice like a trumpet. He was illiterate, but high-minded, generous to a fault, and the very soul of bravery. Napoleon once said of him, "Gros lives in the smoke of cannon like a fish in water. It is his element." The mode of his elevation to the rank he held, was a farce in itself. One morning while he was waiting in one of the little saloons of St. Cloud to receive the orders of the Emperor, who had sent for him, he became impatient at the long delay and ,going up to a mirror, began to contemplate himself. He pulled up his collar, adjusted his epaulettes, examined his uniform, and casting his eyes from his head to his feet, could not repress his admiration of the tout ensemble of his person and thinking aloud, said, "Ah my cadet, there are few of these dandy officers made up like you--what a misfortune you don't know a little mathematics which the emperor requires, you would then have been a general to-day." Napoleon who had entered unperceived and overheard this queer soliloquy, suddenly slapped him on the shoulder exclaiming, "You are one."

On the day of the review, Gros with his regiment was at one extremity of the line. A few days before there had been incorporated into it unbeknown to him an old friend named Castagnet. He was a drummer and in the review was placed in the front rank. Gros with great pomposity was slowly walking his horse along the line, scrutinizing the appearance and arms of each, when he was suddenly arrested by "Good heavens! it is you, my general, look at me, I am that fool of a Castagnet with whom you have drunk more Schnick than there is broth in the kettle of the Invalids. How are you? Don't you know me, my general?"

At the first words, Gros had recognised his old comrade, and yielding to the sudden generous impulse, he leaped from his horse and embraced him, shaking his hand with a grasp that made every bone in it snap, exclaiming, "Very well, very well, my old Castagnet, and you?"

"Always r-r-r-rat-a-tat tatting, as you see."

"Come to me to-morrow morning," said Gros as he remounted his horse, "you shall see that I always have something for my old friends."

Napoleon, who had just gone through the first files of the grenadiers, happened to cast his eye along the line at this moment and thought he saw a soldier and general embracing each other. The spurs sank in the flanks of Marengo, which sprang away like a flash of lightning, and the next moment stood before the astonished group. "What does this mean, General Gros," exclaimed Napoleon, with his brow knit in anger, "is this a theatrical exhibition?"

The general raised his chapeau, and pointing to the drummer, who stood immovable in his ranks, said in his usual frank blunt manner, "There is a solid soldier for you, one who never winks in presence of the enemy. Such as you see him, sire, he has beat his drum in Italy, Egypt, and through all Germany. Hi name is Castagnet. It was he who beat the charge before St. Jean d'Acre with one hand because the other had been shattered by a ball, at the commencement of that earthquake."

As much as Napoleon loved discipline, he loved bravery better, and he sat with his eyes fixed on Castagnet, whose heart went like the sticks of his own drum, while Gros was speaking; and as he finished said, "All this is very well, but the time is ill chosen for such recognitions." Then turning to Castagnet, he said in that winning tone which so bewitched his soldiers, "You are he then, my brave fellow, who descended the third time into the fosse of St. Jean d'Acre; I am glad to see you again." With this he lifted his hand to his chapeau, slightly raising it from his head.

These flattering words, and above all, the gesture of respect, completely upset the poor drummer. He expected punishment, and lo, the emperor had touched his chapeau to him. He turned white and red by turns, and turning and twisting his head about, said, in a half audible tone, "You flatter me, my emperor."

" It was you," continued Napoleon, "I have a good memory, who showed such presence of mind and admirable courage at the battle of Wertingnen, and saved the life of your captain."

The brave fellow whose nerves were steady as iron in the deadly combat, was completely unmanned, and with his head cast down, said in a voice lower than before, "A small affair, my emperor, always the same old cask."

"Gros," added Napoleon, "if your protege continues to behave as well in future, he shall be advanced. He is worthy of a better post," and nodding pleasantly to the drummer, said, "Au revoir, my brave fellow," and gave the spur to Marengo.

Such was the means by which Napoleon gained the hearts of his Guard. The beat of that brave fellow's drum in the fosse of St. Jean d'Acre would not hurry men to the deadly charge more fiercely than that story told by the bivouac fire of the Old Guard at night. The whole regiment witnessed the strange scene, and there was not a man in it but felt a higher resolution. He would carry the remembrance of it into battle, it would nerve him to another effort when about to give way, and rally him to another charge at sight of his commander. Who would not perform great deeds, when years after he was told of them by his emperor, in presence of the whole army? The brave acts of even a poor drummer were treasured up in the heart of him for whom he shed his blood, and it recompensed him for all he had suffered. Ah, Bonaparte knew how to win the hearts of his soldiers, and that alone would give him unconquerable troops.

After having passed in review the squadrons of the Guard and the light cavalry, he returned to the court of the Tuileries, and placed himself in front of a small squadron of general officers, composed of his staff. At a gesture of his hand, an officer of ordnance approached with his head uncovered, and bowing to Napoleon, parted on a gallop and riding rapidly along the whole front of battle returned to his place. A moment after Napoleon urged Marengo, covered with foam, a few steps in advance, and lifting his hand shook it above his head. From the extreme end of the line the faint roll of drums was heard, gradually swelling, till it swept like thunder over the field. In an instant it ceased and the rattling of musketry ran with the regularity of a wave, from one end of the vast line to the other. At length the impassible face of Napoleon kindled with excitement; and placing his right hand upon his thigh, he half turned in his saddle, and gave the Russian ambassador, who was absorbed in the magnificent tableau, a glance that could not be mistaken. He had caught the undulations of the eagles of his Guard as it put itself in motion, and from the farthest extremity, began to advance. The foot grenadiers and chasseurs, who had swept the fields of Austerlitz, Jena, Eylau, and Wagram, first approached. As they began to defile, Napoleon made a sign to the Russian chamberlain to take his place by his side. As the regiments approached, he said, pointing to one, " That is my 45th, they are my brave children of Paris. If ever cartridges are burned between my brother, the emperor of Russia, and me, I will show the efficiency of my 45th. It was this regiment that precipitated itself upon the Russian batteries at Austerlitz. That little corporal you see running there with his fusil upon his shoulder, finding himself about to be taken by an officer of the cannoneers of Doctorow, sprang up behind him, strangled him with his hands, and made his escape." The chamberlain expressing his admiration of the daring deed, Napoleon added, "There is not a regiment in my Guard that cannot cite a hundred acts far more admirable. Do you see that lieutenant covered with dust? It is Robaglia, my cousin, who lives but for me." He thus went on particularizing one after another, going back even to his first campaigns.

The cavalry then defiled in the same wonderful order, though enveloped in a cloud of dust. The terrible grenadiers, whose heavy shocks few squares could withstand, passed along, followed by the chasseurs with their green uniform and tall plumes waving like a field of grain in the wind. After them, the Mamelukes, with their white turbans surmounted with a cross of gold, then the dragoons of the Guard, with their light helmets flashing in the sun, commanded by Arigha, a cousin of Napoleon, then the Polish lancers in their gay and sparkling uniform, and last the artillery of the Guard, followed by the equipages of the train. Each regiment and squadron sent up their loud "Vive l' Empereur," as it passed. Napoleon then dismounted and mixing with the chief officers of the several corps, conversed a while familiarly with them and returned to the Tuileries.

The imposing pageant had passed. That army of thirty thousand warriors--veterans every one, had moved at the word of command, like a single man, and no one who saw their firm array and perfect discipline, and knew their history, could be astonished at their invincibility. When it was over, Napoleon asked the Russian chamberlain what had struck him most at the review.

"The prodigious memory of your majesty," he replied, "and the ease with which you recalled, after so long a time, the deeds of arms and the names of so many soldiers."

"Monsieur Count," replied the emperor, "it is the memory of the heart, it is that of the lover which recalls his first attachments, it is never lost."

I have thus gone into a detailed account of this single review, because such exhibitions formed a part of the history of the Old Guard, and incidents like these I have related lay at the foundation of the devoted attachment it showed to Napoleon.

At the close of 1810 the Guard numbered 33,500 men.