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nificent conception; it is for me to give the example." Can we not see in these words the germ of future development?

While the French were occupying Milan, an insurrection broke out near Pavia, which menaced serious consequences. Bonaparte set out immediately with 2000 men and six guns to quell it. The first attack sufficed, and the town of Pavia was given up to plunder. The house of the town clerk being threatened, the unfortunate man thought to save his life by throwing his money out of window. Bonaparte, seeing his danger, ordered Marmont to go and take the money in his possession. At that period soldiers entertained great scruples of delicacy, so our author says, and in his fear of being accused of turning the adventure to his own profit, he counted the money he took in the presence of several officers, and handed it over, untouched, to the military chest. A short time afterwards, Bonaparte mildly reproached him for not appropriating the money, which he had ordered him to take for his own use. A few pages on, our readers will find a similar instance, which makes us only wish that all Bonaparte's marshals had been so scrupulous as Marmont.

While staying for the night at Valleggio, in the Venetian territory, Napoleon had a very narrow escape from being captured-that is to say, if there had been any enemy to take him. There was a sudden but false alerte, and the general-in-chief bolted out on foot, found a dragoon running away, took his horse, and set off full speed for the rear. From this time he always had a strong escort with him; he formed the corps of Guides, who accompanied him everywhere, and were the nucleus of the regiment of Chasseurs of the Imperial Guard. Fortunately, this anecdote was not known at Paris, or it would have furnished a glorious theme for General Matthieu Dumas, who was waging a paper war against Napoleon for his inactivity; in the midst of the burly and brattle, Marmont was called upon to write a refutation which, as he modestly says, had some success in its day, and General Bonaparte was very satisfied with it. It is a pleasant feature to find, too, in a general's character, that Napoleon was incessantly thinking of his wife. He had begged her to join him, and her repeated delays painfully tormented him with a combined feeling of jealousy and superstition. Thus, one morning at Tartona, the glass of her picture, which he always wore, accidentally broke; he turned frightfully pale, and the impression which it made upon him was painful in the extreme. "Marmont," he remarked, "my wife is very ill, or unfaithful.” At last she arrived, however, accompanied by Junot and Murat. Marmont was sent to meet her, and witnessed the attentions paid her at Turin by the court. The Sardinian monarch has always been wise in his generation. About this time, too, the Directory had the insane idea of sending Kellerman to share the command with Bonaparte, but the latter soon put a stop to it by offering his resignation. Soon after Marmont performed an exploit, which can only be justifiable on the argument that all is fair in war:

General Bonaparte wrote from Modena to the commandant (of Urbino) to come and speak to him, and this worthy man, although informed that we were at war with his sovereign, accepted without hesitation; he even left without giving any instructions to his officers. General Bonaparte ordered me to set out at the head of all the troops, with a weak detachment of fifteen dragoons; another and stronger detachment followed a short distance in the rear. I was instructed to go quietly along, as if mine was a detachment looking out for

quarters; and if I saw the gate of the fort open, I was to rush in and cut down the guard. I should then be reinforced by the troops in my rear. Arriving at the spot where the road runs under the covered way, I found the officers of the garrison assembled outside the palisades, anxious for the fate of their commandant. They asked me for some information about him; I answered that he was a hundred yards behind me, and they could go and meet him. This answer led them a little further away. A few minutes after, having seen the gate was open, I went up at full gallop, not giving the guard time to put down the bar. In a moment the whole regiment of dragoons had entered the fort. The soldiers took refuge in their barracks, only to leave them as prisoners. There were more than eighty pieces of cannon, all loaded, mounted on the ramparts. The fort thus fell into our hands; the artillery was immediately carried to the army before Mantua, and served in the siege of that place.

Marmont speaks always in the highest terms of praise about Napoleon's magnanimity, and quotes many instances; among others, one in which he remonstrated very strongly against his being passed over on the flags being sent to Paris after the battle of the Mincio, when he fully anticipated the trip and his consequent step. The only revenge which Bonaparte took was to send him cruising for a week on the Lago di Garda to cool his hot blood, and amply repaid him by sending him to Paris after the battle of St. George, with two-and-twenty flags captured from the enemy, and the announcement of 15,000 prisoners being ready to send home. Granted that Napoleon was magnanimous to those who, to use a vulgar phrase, had the length of his foot, these instances do not compensate for the littlenesses of which he was at times guilty-such as the murder of the bookseller Palm. However, we must not forget the greatness of the man, and can only regret that he partook the nature of mankind, in being fallible, like the rest of us poor mortals.

Another point on which Marmont throws a curious light is the celebrated adventure of the bridge of Arcola, which has been the subject of painters, poets, and romancists. The following appear, from our author, to be the real facts. The country in the vicinity of the Adige was intersected by dykes, along one of which Augereau's division marched it was thrown into confusion by the enemy's fire, and Augereau, to re-form the ranks, took a flag and marched several paces along the dyke, but was not followed:

Such is the history of the flag, about which so much has been written, and with which it is supposed he crossed the bridge of Arcola, while repulsing the enemy; it is only reduced to a simple demonstration, without any result; and that is the way history is written! General Bonaparte, informed of this check, proceeded to this division with his staff, and tried to renew the attack by placing himself at the head of the column to encourage it. He seized a flag, and, on this occasion, the column rushed after him: on arriving at about two hundred paces from the bridge, we should probably have cleared it, in spite of the mur derous fire of the enemy, had not an infantry officer seized the general-in-chief round the waist, saying: "Mon général, you will be killed, and in that case we shall be all lost; you shall not go further-this is not your place!" I was in advance of General Bonaparte; I turned to see if I was followed, when I ceived General Bonaparte in the arms of this officer, and fancied he was wounded; in a moment, a group surrounded him. When the head of a column is so near the enemy, and does not move on, it soon falls back; thus it retrograded, went over the other side of the dyke to protect itself from the enemy's fire, and broke in disorder. This disorder was so great, that General Bonaparte was hurled over the dyke, and fell into a ditch full of water. Louis Bonaparte


and myself drew the General from this dangerous position; he procured a horse from an aide-de-camp of General Dammartin, and returned to Ronco to change his clothes. Such is the history of the other flag, which the engravings have represented as carried by Bonaparte on the bridge of Arcola. This was the only occasion during the campaign in Italy that I saw the general-in-chief exposed to real and great personal danger.

After the close of the campaign and the signature of the negotiation, Bonaparte had time to think of his family affairs; the most important point being the marriage of his sister Pauline. He offered her to Marmont, but he had the good fortune to decline the dangerous lure. She was, however, at that period, enough to tempt an anchorite. Only sixteen years of age, she gave promise of what she would be. But Marmont was deaf to the voice of the charmer, and, as he naïvely writes, “Now, after the dénouement of the great drama, it is probable that I have more reason to congratulate myself than repent at the result."

The character which Marmont gives of Napoleon at the period of his commanding the army of Italy is so striking, that we cannot refrain from quoting it:

From the moment when Bonaparte placed himself at the head of the army, he had in his person an authority which overawed everybody; although he wanted a certain natural dignity, and was rather awkward in his carriage and movements, there was something masterly in his attitude, his glance, his way of speaking, which everybody felt and was disposed to obey. In public, he neglected nothing to keep up this feeling and augment it; but at home, with his staff, he displayed great ease, and a degree of bonhomie verging on gentle familiarity. He loved to jest, and yet his bons mots had no bitter twang with them; they were sparkling, and in good taste; he frequently took part in our sports, and his example more than once seduced the grave Austrian plenipotentiaries to join us. His labours were easy to him, his hours were not regulated, and he was always accessible in his periods of relaxation. But when he had retired to his cabinet no one was allowed to enter, except the interests of the service demanded it. When he was engaged with the movement of his troops, and giving orders to Berthier, the chief of his staff, or when he received important despatches, which might demand careful examination and discussions, he only kept near him those who were to take part in them, and sent away every one else, whatever his rank might be. It has been said that he slept little, but this is perfectly incorrect; on the contrary, he slept a great deal, and he required it, as is the case with all persons at all nervous, and whose mind is active. I have frequently known him spend from ten to eleven hours in his bed. But if watchfulness was necessary, he knew how to bear it and indemnify himself afterwards, or even take beforehand the repose wanted to endure fore-expected fatigue; and finally, he had the precious faculty of being able to sleep at will. Once disembarrassed from duties and business, he liked to indulge in conversation, certain to excel in it; no one has ever displayed a greater charm, or so easily shown such richness and abundance of ideas. He preferred choosing his subjects among moral and political topics rather than the sciences, in which his knowledge, whatever may have been said to the contrary, was very defective. He loved violent exercise, was fond of riding, and, though a bad rider, went at full speed; lastly, at this happy period, so long past, he possessed an unmistakable charm. Such was Bonaparte in the memorable Italian campaign.

This description of Marmont's possible brother-in-law reads very differently from what writers of the day have indulged us with, or caricaturists have painted in the most exaggerated colours. The character of Napoleon is becoming gradually brighter as it is handed over more and more

to the historiographer, and passion no longer influences us, when we speculate on the conduct of that wonderful man. Till very recently we have been too apt to concentrate our attention on the spots disfiguring the disc, without remembering the brightness diffused by the luminary which render those maculæ the more distinct; but astronomers will tell us that this is not the restricted method in which they judge of the effects of our greatest luminary.

All this while the war with England was going on, and General Bonaparte was appointed commander-in-chief of the army of England. In his desire to have precise details on the defensive strength of England, he hit upon a strange idea. A M. Gallois was about proceeding to England on some matter referring to an exchange of prisoners. Just before starting he paid a visit to Bonaparte in the Rue de la Victoire, where the following scene occurred:

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General Bonaparte called me, and I found myself in the presence of Talleyrand and Gallois. The general said to me: "Marmont, M. Gallois is leaving for England on a mission for the exchange of prisoners; you will accompany him; you will leave your uniform here, and pass as his secretary, and procure such and such informations, details," &c. Then he gave me my instructions. I listened without_interrupting him; but when he had finished, I said to him: "Mon général, I assure you I shall not go." "What, you will not go?" he said. "No," I continued. You give me this service as a spy, and it is neither in my duty, nor to my taste. M. Gallois occupies a mission of recognised espionage, but mine would be beyond the allowed limits. My departure with him would be known by all Paris, and they would soon be informed in England that this pretended secretary is one of the chief officers of your staff, your confidential aide-de-camp. Having placed myself out of the law of nations, I should be arrested, hung, or sent back ignominiously. My life, as a soldier, belongs to you, but I must lose it as a soldier. Send me with a score of hussars to attack a strong fort, though certain to fail, I would go without a murmur, because it is my profession; but the circumstances are different in this case." He was startled at my reply, and sent me away with the words, “I shall find other officers more zealous and docile."

For some time after, Bonaparte was cool to Marmont for his plain speaking, but at length it wore off. About this time, too, Marmont committed what he evidently regards as the one great misfortune of his life: he married Mademoiselle Peregaux, a banker's daughter. The reason of his unhappiness can only be guessed at from his apophthegms, among them being that, at twenty-four years of age, a man's passions are too impetuous, while a prolonged separation, giving a young wife a taste for independence, causes her to feel a husband's yoke insupportable on his return, while, during his absence, she is quite at the mercy of those who try to seduce her. We fancy that Marmont has many times regretted his

of the frying-pan into the fire.

escape out

The war with Egypt was determined on, and Marmont accompanied Napoleon. En route, the French thought it advisable to take Malta, although Marmont denies that the island was given up by treachery. Still there must have been some laxity somewhere, or else Napoleon would never have made use of the sarcastic remark, that it was fortunate they had some one inside to open the gates for them, or else he did not know how they should have got in. The expedition fortunately escaped Nelson's

fleet, and landed at Alexandria, and, from the same reasons we have before mentioned, we will not delay with the events of the campaign, but merely select an illustrative anecdote here and there. Thus, for instance, after the battle of the Pyramids, a great number of Mamluks were drowned, and the soldiers, aware of the custom among them of carrying all their property about their person, were quite in despair at the loss they had suffered. A Gascon soldier of the 32nd, however, contrived an expedient. He bent his bayonet into a hook, and, fastening it to a rope, dragged the river. His example was speedily followed, and the reward was ample; for many soldiers deposited more than 30,000 francs in the regimental chest.

The marshal makes a lame attempt to justify Bonaparte for poisoning the sick men on the retreat, and the massacre of the prisoners taken at Jaffa, but his arguments do not convince us. There is no doubt that they were barbarous measures, and left a deep stain on Napoleon's character. The argument of reciprocity may be very good in war, but supposing that our generals had taken advantage of the brutality of the Russian major, who, after the battle of Inkerman, killed the wounded on the field, a just cry of execration would have been raised through the whole of Europe. We are glad, however, to find that the marshal does not attempt to deny the black business, as many French writers have done; and though we must still deplore it, we may be allowed to ascribe it to error of judg


For a long while Bonaparte had received no news from Europe, and it was only by flattering the vanity of General Sidney Smith that he succeeded in procuring a file of papers. The news he found in them decided him on his immediate return. But Marmont must share his fortune, whether good or evil. He sent for him, and said:

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Marmont, I have decided on returning to France, and I intend to take you with me. The state of things in Europe forces me to form this great decision. Misfortunes are oppressing our armies, and God knows how far the enemy may have penetrated. Italy is lost, and the reward of so many efforts, of so much bloodshed, is escaping us. What can be expected from incapables placed at the head of affairs? All is ignorance, stupidity, or corruption with them. It was I alone who supported this burden, and through continual successes gave consistency to the government, which, without me, could never have been established. In my absence all must necessarily collapse. But we must not wait till the destruction becomes complete: the misfortune would be irremediable. The passage to France will be dangerous and hazardous; but it is less so than our voyage here, and that fortune which has sustained me till now will not abandon me at this moment. Besides, a man must know how to run a risk at the right moment. He who never ventures, never gains. I will entrust the army to capable hands. I leave it in a good condition, and after a victory which adjourns to an indefinite period the moment when fresh enterprises will be formed against it. The destruction of the Turkish army and my return will be heard of at the same moment in France. My presence, by exalting their minds, will restore to the army that confidence which it wants, and to good citizens the hope of a better future. There will be a change of opinion greatly to the profit of France. We must try to get home, and we shall succeed."

We all know the miraculous escape which Bonaparte experienced, and his return to France fully justified his expectations. He found it necessary to overthrow the Constituent Assembly, and the 18th Brumaire con

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