His death. they had evinced towards him during his short captivity within those walls. He advanced of his own accord towards the door, as if to accelerate the catastrophe. This door opened on a narrow esplanade lying between the towers of the castle and the outer walls, very much resembling the castle of Vincennes. But one last and splendid sun, at least, beamed upon the last step and the last look of the hero. Twelve soldiers with loaded muskets awaited him there. The narrow space did not permit them to stand at a sufficient distance to deprive death of a part of its horror. Murat, on stepping over the threshold of his chamber, found himself face to face with them. He refused to let his eyes be bandaged, and looking at the soldiers with a firm and benevolent smile; "My friends," said he, “do not make me suffer by taking a bad aim. The narrow space naturally compels you almost to rest the muzzles of your muskets on my breast, do not tremble, do not strike me in the face, aim at the heart, here it is." As he spoke thus he placed his right hand upon his coat, to indicate the position of the heart. In his left hand he held a small medallion which contained, in one focus of love, the image of his wife and of his four children, as if he thus wished to make them witnesses of his last hour, or to have their image in his last look, as in his last thought. He fixed his eyes on this portrait, and received the death blow without feeling it, absorbed in the contemplation of all he loved upon earth! His body, pierced at so short a distance by twelve balls, fell with the arms open and the face to the earth, as if still embracing the kingdom which he had once possessed, and which he had come to reconquer for his tomb. They threw his cloak upon the body, which was buried in the cathedral of Pizzo, where he had previously purchased by his donations the hospitality of a final resting place. His companions in misfortune were pardoned, released, and restored to their country. The people who had insulted him alive, wept at his death. No one could hate him but in battle. He had felt pity, and it was shed freely on his tomb. Review of his life. LIV. Thus ended the most chivalrous soldier of the Imperial epoch; not the greatest but the most heroic figure amongst the companions of the new Alexander. Sprung from the Pyrenese mountains, a soldier in search of adventures, distinguished in the army by his bravery, offered to the notice of the First Consul by chance, become dear and useful to him by zeal and friendship, elevated to the hand of Bonaparte's sister by her beauty and his love, raised to great commands by the favour, and to the throne by the interest of the family, driven to infidelity by the ambition of his wife and by a father's weakness for his children, dethroned by the reaction on the fall of the empire, disgraced at the same time by Napoleon and by his enemies, unfitted for obscurity and mediocrity after so much splendour and so much fortune, throwing himself in despair upon impossibilities and by imprudence upon death, but falling, while still young, with all his fame, carrying with him if not the entire esteem, at least all the interest and all the compassion of his contemporaries, leaving to posterity one of those names which will eternally dazzle future ages, in which some shades may doubtless be discovered, but no crimes! Such was Murat! Two countries will lay claim to him, France which he served, and Italy which he governed. But he belongs above all to the world of imagi nation and poetry; a man of romance from his adventures, a man of chivalry from his character, a man of history from his epoch. He merited more than any other of the martial and political men of his period, the epitaph rarely merited by those who serve, or govern courts—a man of heart, in all the grandeur, and in all the sensibility of the word. Thus history which will have its enthusiasm and its reproaches, will have, above all, tears for Murat. LV. If his death was not a crime it was at least, a baseness of beart in his murderers. They had the right in an extremo Judgment on his murderers point of view, to kill him, but they had not the necessity. Being masters of his person, having no longer to fear from a captive enemy any of those enterprises and competitions which disturb an empire or make a dynasty tremble, there was more vengeance than prudence in his death. This execution tarnished the reign of Ferdinand, without securing it. Greatness of soul, that justice of victory, was wanting to the Sicilian. court, where the tragical traditions of Conradin, of Queen Joan, of Machiavelli's Italy had left sinister examples of deadly struggles and scaffolds amongst pretenders to the throne. In sacrificing a hero, who had no ancestors before him, nor dynasty after him, to claim not a right, but an adventure for his throne, the court of Sicily did not elevate its glory, but degraded its character. This execution of a disarmed competitor looked like fear. Envy also appeared to inspire it. It was not so much the rivalship of rights, as the superiority of fame, which obscured in Murat the house of Naples. His competition was less feared than the popularity of his exploits. In beating down the hero they wished to beat down his memory. They only succeeded in imparting to the drama of his life the pathos and the pity which attach themselves to the sanguinary catastrophes of great men. His death recalled that of Pompey. The house of Naples only conquered by that death an additional stain of blood upon its anuals, and a mutilated corpse upon its shore. Woe to cowards! Cruelty rever exists but where there is lack of courage BOOK THIRTY-SECOND. Character of the French nation-Causes of the spirit of the elections of 1815--Fall of Fouché-His exile in Germany-Review of his life -Fall of M. de Talleyrand-Formation of M. de Richelieu's ministry -Retrospective glance at M. de Richelieu-His life in RussiaHis character-Negociations with the Allies-Their exactionsTreaty of the 20th November-Letter of M. de Richelieu-Treaty of the Holy Alliance-Opening of the chambers-The King's speechM. Lainé, President of the Chamber of Deputies-His speechAddresses of the two chambers to the King-Policy of the Duke de Richelieu-Spirit of the Council-Laws against seditious cries and individual liberty--Law of the prevotal courts*-Discussion and vote in the two chambers-Proposition of the Duke de Fitz-James— Speech of the Count d'Artois--Return of the Duke d'Orleans-His interview with Louis XVIII. I. Nations are like men; they have the same passions, vicissitudes, exaggerations, indecisions, and uncertainties. That which is called public opinion in free governments is only the moveable needle of the dial plate which marks by turns the variations in this atmosphere of human affairs. This instability is still more sudden and prodigious in France than in the other nations of the world, if we except the ancient Athenian race. It has become the proverb of Europe. The French historian ought to acknowledge this vice of the nation, whose vicissitudes he recounts, as he ought to point out its virtues. Even this instability belongs to a quality of the great French race-imagination; it forms part of its destiny In its wars it is called impulse; in its arts, genius; in its reverses, despondency; in its despondency, inconsistency; and in its patriotism, enthusiasm. It is the modern nation which * Cours prévôtales. The name given to criminal tribunals established temporarily and judging without appeal.-TRANSLATOR. Character of the French nation. has the most fire in its soul; and this fire is fanned by the wind of its mobility. We cannot explain, except by this character of the French race, those frenzies-which simultaneously seem to seize upon the whole nation after the lapse of some months-for principles, for men, and for governments the most opposed to each other We are on the eve of one of those astonishing inconstancies of public opinion in France. Let us explain its causes. II. The gleam of those philosophical principles, the whole of which constitute what is called the revolution had nowhere, so much as in France, dazzled and warmed the souls of the people, at the end of the last century. At the voice of her writers, her orators, her tribunes, and her warriors, France took the initiative in the work of reformation, without considering what it would cost in fatigues, treasure, and blood, to renew her institutions, vitiated by the rust of ages, in religion, legisla tion, civilization, and government. An immense popularity attached itself at the commencement to the men who had courageously sapped the old edifice of her church, her throne, and her laws. Her King himself, imbued through his court, even upon his throne, with this unanimous spirit of renovation, had generously declared himself the first innovator of his kingdom He had begun the reformation by that of his court, and the sacrifices by those of his authority. The nobility had been equally generous in renouncing its caste, feudalities, titles, and monopolies to mingle itself with the nation. The church alone, a state within the state, a principle calling itself immutable even in temporalities, in the midst of an improvable civilization, had shut itself up in the inflexibility of bodies without hereditary right, without family, and consequenly without responsibility in the nation. It had conceded none of its temporal privileges but those which had been wrested from Civil war had broken out at its voice in the provinces, over which it maintained the greatest ascendancy. It had excommunicated modern reason, liberty, and equality. It had agitated it. |