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thy of trust, for the purpose of seconding the efforts of Monsieur, who had just departed from Lyons. For this purpose, he went to Besançon, where, on the 11th March, he learned the occupation of Lyons by Buonaparte, and the defection of the troops stationed in that city. He continued to assemble troops from the various neighbouring garrisons, as if to assume a position for attacking Buonaparte on flank and rear when he should move forward upon Paris. To those who objected the bad disposition of the soldiers, and remarked that he would have difficulty in inducing them to fight, Ney answered determinedly, "They shall fight; I will take a musket from a grenadier and begin theaction myself;-I will run my sword to the hilt in the first who hesitates to follow my example." To the minister at war he wrote, that all were dazzled by the activity and rapid progress of the invader; that the invader was favoured by the common people and the soldiers, but that the officers and civil authorities were loyal, and he still hoped "to see a fortunate close of this mad enterprize." In the night between the 13th and 14th, he received in private an emissary from Buonaparte, with a letter, in Bertrand's hand-writing, summoning him as "the bravest of the brave," a name which Buonaparte sometimes gave to Ney, to join the imperial standard. On his trial he affirmed, that this was his first communication with Buonaparte since his exile; but it is certain that he had formerly represented his return as an event long arranged by himself and the other marechals. At any rate, if, hitherto, he had served the king with good faith, his fidelity gave way exactly five days after he had parted from Louis with professions of such profound devotion. On the morning of the 14th, he communicated to Generals Bourmont and Lecourbe his intention to join Buonaparte. It was in

vain that these officers warmly urged him to remain stedfast in his duty; his resolution was formed. An order of the day, or proclamation, informed the soldiers under his command, that the cause of the Bourbons was lost for ever, and that the marechal, who had often led them to victory, was now about to march them to join the immortal phalanx which the emperor was conducting to Paris, there to establish for ever the happiness of France. This proclamation was received by the soldiers with shouts of Vive l'Empereur; Buonaparte's colours and standard were instantly displayed, and his adherents took the license of pillaging several houses in the place. But the superior officers regarded the conduct of Ney as an act of gross dishonour and treachery. Bourmont, Lecourbe, the Marquis de la Genetiere, and others, even his own aid-de-camp, the Baron Clouet, left the army in disgust. Another officer of rank gave a yet stronger testimony against this act of unparalleled trea

son.

He came before Ney, and thus addressed him: "It is easier for a man of honour to break iron than to break his word;" then snapping his sword asunder, he threw it at the marechal's feet. "To prove what I say, there lie the fragments of the sword with which I came to fight under your or ders." He then turned his back on the marechal, and left the town. Ney, unmoved by the scorn thus poured on him, proceeded to carry his treachery into effect, and joined Buonaparte, who received him with open arms. His defection did incalculable mischief to the king's cause, by showing that the very highest rank in the army was infected by the same spirit of treason which possessed the common soldiers.

All was now apprehension at Paris. False intelligence, communicated by the telegraph, had announced the destruction of Buonaparte before Lyons.

This served for the moment to paralize the efforts of the royalists, when every moment was precious, and, when discovered, it spread discouragement, by shewing that the public channels of intelligence were in possession of the enemy. The return of Monsieur, with the melancholy intelligence of the occupation of Lyons, at once dispersed the vain hopes which this annunciation had spread through the royalists, and which rendered the real calamity doubly astounding. The last stake for the kingdom was now to be played: The king attended the sitting of the Chamber of Deputies on the 16th of March, where he was received with lively tokens of respect and affection. He reminded them of his labours for the benefit of France; of the honourable peace which he had procured for her when resistance was no longer available. "I fear not," he said, "for myself. What can befall me better at the age of sixty than death in defence of my kingdom! It is for France I fear, to which he, who is now approaching, brings the scourge both of civil and foreign war. Let us rally around our constitutional charter, which I here swear to maintain. Let the concurrence of the chambers give authority and impulse to our just defence, and the termination of the war will shew what a great nation, loyal to its monarch and laws, can do for their protection." This touching appeal, rendered yet more affecting by the benevolent looks and impressive delivery of the aged monarch, was received with shouts of "Long live the king, we are his for life and death!" Monsieur, in his own name, and that of the princes of his house, swore fidelity to the king and the charter; and the brothers threw themselves into each other's arms as he concluded the oath. The hall echoed with the most enthusiastic acclama tions, and it seemed impossible but

that such bursts of loyalty must have been followed by the most active and zealous exertions. Laws were hastily passed for the satisfaction of such grievances as the army had complained of; for calling out the population to arms; for recompensing those who should effectually serve the king; for pardoning those whom the invader had deluded; and for declaring the irrevocability of the national domains, and affording security against the re-establishment of tithes or feudal services. These were wise and provident measures, so far as they went to organise resistance to the immediate danger: but in so far as they were calculated to obviate the suspicions of the soldiers and proprietors of national domains, they were impolitic, since the application of such remedies seemed to acknowledge that ground had actually existed for the calumnies by which those suspicions had been excited.

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Louis next reviewed the garrison of Paris. The troops of the line, amounting to 6000 men, received him in silence indeed, but with respect. They were ordered to march upon Melun, and a part of the national guard was embodied with them. Other troops were assembled at the same point, and the royal army, in point of numbers, appeared to double that which was marching toward Paris under Buonaparte; but the afflicting news of the treachery of Ney, shewed how little dependence could be placed on the regular troops. The point of confiding in them, was the subject of a warm discussion at a general council held in the Tuilleries, in which the presence of the king did not prevent the generals and nobles present from using the most intemperate language towards each other. Louis retired in despair, well aware that this disunion shewed of itself the fallen state of his fortunes. He now made preparations for retiring from his capital, without

even awaiting the issue of the meeting betwixt Buonaparte's army and the troops at Melun. What indeed could be expected from them, after the successive revolts of Grenoble, Lyons, and Lons le Saulnier!

The garrison of Lisle had shortly before declared for the emperor, under D'Erlon, (president of the court-martial by whom Excelman was acquit ted), and had actually left the city in order to march to join him. The disposition of the inhabitants, and of the adjacent country, was excellent, and there was no doubt that the king might have maintained this last asylum within the French territory, if Marechal Mortier had not caused these revolted troops of the line to re-enter the city. He had no sooner done so, than he informed the king that he could not be responsible for their fidelity. After Louis had spent some hours in vainly attempting to conciliate the soldiery, Mortier at length insisted on his quitting Lisle, himself escorting him to the gates, to save him, he pretended, from the fury of the soldiers, excited by the report that the Duke of Berri was on the point of arriving with the household troops to possess himself of the city. The unfortunate monarch, thus compelled to a second exile, departed to Ostend, and from thence to Ghent, where he established his banished court. The Duke of Berri, with the household troops, and many volunteers who had joined them, pursued a march which every instant rendered more perilous, from the revolt of the various garrisons in French Flanders. This unfortunate band of loyalists included boys who bore arms for the first time, and old men whom zeal had summoned forth, though almost unfit for service. The orders of march transmitted to them by the king were intercepted by the enemy, and while uncertain in what direction to proceed, they were closely pursued and harassed by a body of light cavalry under Gaillebois, colonel of that 14th regiment of lancers which revolted near Montereau, an officer whom the Duke of Berri had loaded with favours..

The king departed from Paris at one o'clock on the morning of the 20th. The national guard thronged around him, and asked permission to spend their lives in his defence. Tears and sobs burst from the crowd, who, even at this hour, surrounded his carriage. "Dry your tears, my friends," said the good monarch, "I will soon return to you!" Escorted by his household troops, and attended by his family, he took the road to Lisle. In the morning, a proclamation, placarded through the city, informed the Parisians that the king was gone to seek, in another part of his kingdom, not better subjects than they, but such as were more favourably situated to serve his cause. The session of the two chambers was declared to be closed until the king should announce to them his provisional seat of govern

ment.

The misfortunes which had attended Louis during the greater part of his life, continued to pursue his journey. Every where he was received by the citizens with shouts of welcome, but with sullen silence by the armed soldiery, who alone could effectually have assisted him. The household troops marched by Amiens, while Louis himself hastened to secure Lisle, the strongest fortified town in France, by possession of which he could have opened the gates of the kingdom to his foreign auxiliaries, or formed a place of arms, while he assembled around him the more faithful part of his subjects. This plan was defeated by the conduct of Mortier, who, while maintaining a seeming allegiance to the king, contrived to serve most effectually the cause of his old master.

hostile van-guard. The silence was only interrupted by the regimental bands of music, which occasionally played the airs of "O Richard.”. "Henri Quatre,"—" La Belle Gabrielle," and other pieces consecrated to the royal cause, but which excited no corresponding feeling in the minds of the soldiers. At length, about 12 o'clock, a party of cavalry appeared escorting an open carriage, and in a moment Buonaparte was among the ranks which had been drawn out to oppose him. His escort threw themselves from their horses, and embracing their ancient comrades, implored them to unite the French army once more, under the authority of the emperor. The effect produced was instantaneous and electrical: All dropped their arms,-all left their ranks,-all shouted Vive Napoleon! and the superior officers, who remained loyal, were compelled to provide for their safety by a hasty flight. Thus Buonaparte a third time drew over to his standard the troops collected to oppose him, and the army of Melun, like those of Grenoble and Lyons, appeared only to have been formed for the purpose of affording him reinforcements.

Many of the household troops were involved in a morass, where some perished; and at length when they arrived at Bethune, the Duke of Berri, whether fearful of bringing on the king an expense which he was ill able to support, or seeing some reluctance on the part of the household troops to move beyond the frontier, or for some unexplained reason, disbanded them, and recommended that they should return to their homes. This was no easy matter, and in the attempt some of these unhappy stragglers were slain, and almost all were plundered and insulted. Such were the melancholy circumstances which attended the flight of the king from his capital. He had no sooner left Lisle, than an order from Davoust, Buonaparte's minister at war, arrived for his arrest, and that of his family. The Duke of Orleans was yet in Lisle, but Mortier, in some measure, atoned for his preceding conduct, by suppressing the order until his royal high. ness had left the place.

Mean time Paris expected her new master. The most profound, but gloomy tranquillity marked the morning after the king's departure. Even the most zealous Buonapartists did not attempt to insult, by their triumph, the general sensation of awe and sorrow. All waited the issue of the meeting of the armies at Melun, which was not long dubious.

Marechal Macdonald commanded the troops of Melun in chief, under the directions of the Duke of Berri. On the 20th they were drawn out in order of battle to oppose Buonaparte, who was reported to be advancing from Fontainbleau. The general officers of the royal army were faithful, and used every means to keep their soldiers in the same sentiments. There was a long pause of anxious expectation, while the troops, drawn out under arms, awaited the appearance of the

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In the meanwhile, the pause of consternation at Paris began to give way to tumult. Lavalette, who had for some days remained concealed in the hotel of the Duchess de St Leu, made his appearance at the post-office, and superseding the superintendant placed there by the king, took upon him, without opposition, the office of director of that important department, which he had formerly enjoyed under Buonaparte. He made use of the power thus acquired to intercept all the journals which contained the king's proclamation, and to dispatch an official intimation to the cities and departments, that Napoleon was in quiet and undisturbed posses

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sion of his former authority. Lavalette also held an immediate communication with Buonaparte, now at Fontainbleau, and received from him advice to be intimated to his friends in Paris, that all had succeeded so much to his wish, that there was no occasion for the insurrection in the capital, for which preparations had been in forwardness.

The spirit of resentment and despair acting on the more zealous royalists, joined to the triumphant hopes of the opposite faction, threatened, notwithstanding the communication of Buonaparte's pleasure, an explosion which might have proved fatal to the capital. Numerous groupes assembled in the streets. The mob of the suburbs of Saint Antoine and Saint Marceau put themselves in motion. and in a manner besieged the Tuilleries. Scuffles, not without bloodshed, passed between. parties of royalists and imperialists. The steadiness of the national guard, who doubled and trebled their sentinels' upon every post, on this as on other occasions both before and after, saved Paris from a great convulsion. The accesses to the Tuilleries were filled with tumultuous groupes, and the sentinels could scarce prevent them from forcing the gate of the Place de Carousel, which occupies the front of the palace. Amidst these alarming symptoms, General Excelman, whose oath to serve the king for ever, (p. 136.) had scarce dried on his lips, appeared at the head of a body of soldiers, relieved the national guard at the Tuilleries, and entering the palace, took down the white flag which had floated over the dome since the restoration of the Bourbons, and replaced it by the three-coloured banner. It was late in the evening ere Napoleon himself entered, to assume possession of the vacant palace and unswayed sceptre. He entered in the

same carriage which he had brought with him from Elba, and at nine o'clock alighted at the Tuilleries, a journey of eighteen days having brought him from Cannes to Paris, and achieved a revolution more remarkable, because less to be expected, than any of the extraordinary events which have distinguished the history of revolutionary France. The court was filled with his ancient courtiers, who crowded around so closely, that he was obliged to call out, "My friends, you stifle me;" and some of his aidesde-camp were actually obliged to carry him in their arms up the grand stair-case and into the royal apartments, where he was welcomed by his sisters Hortensia and Julia, and other members of the conspiracy, now assembled to gratulate its success, and gather the harvest of their labours.

No sooner was Buonaparte once more possessed of political power, than it seemed, from the subservience of all around, as absolute as if he had never been deprived of it. The ready and unscrupulous versatility with which almost all the men in public authority renewed to Napoleon the vows they had so lately made to Louis, is one of the most degrading features of these memorable transactions, and inspires us almost with a contempt of human nature. It is thus described by Chateaubriant, the most eloquent of the French modern writers: "Buonaparte, placed, by a strange fatality, between the coasts of France and Italy, has appeared, like Genseric, at the point to which he was called by the anger of God. He came, the hope of all those who had committed, and of all those who meditated to commit, crimes; he came, and he succeeded. Men, loaded with the king's bounties, and decorated with his honours, kissed in the morning that royal hand which they betrayed in the evening. Re

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