The Sun.
London, England, 1854-01-17 00:00:00

the sepulture of a more illustrious victim. The
deed of 1848 might have been ante-dated had the
Place de Greve been reddened with the blood of a
Bonaparte. But the fact itself fails. No life was spared
because no life was declared forfeit. In 1845, in-
deed, after five years of suffering, an offer was made
to restore the Prince to freedom, but upon condi-
tions to which he could not accede. He might
have exchanged his dungeon-fortress for liberty—
he might have received the blessing of his dying
father—could he have stooped to make a faithless
promise. The alternative was a life-long captivity
linked to a sacrifice inappreciably painful and he
preferred it. When the time came, that noble self-
denial had its reward. His prison gates opened
upon a throne. The people remembered to what
good account he had turned his captiyity—how
mid his own sorrows he had pondered upon theirs,
and with what affection in his essay for their relief
he so feelingly and finely said—" In misfortune it
is natural to think of those who suffer." Yes, to
a generous and noble mind ; mere vulgar sorrow
is absorbed in selfishness. This was not forgotten
during the presidential contest. The streets of
Paris were placarded with proof, that the poor
remembered the philanthropy of the prison. Me-
morials of his thoughtful Essay on Pauperism'
were everywhere to be found. It was the fortress
of Ham which first taught France the true charac-
ter of its captive. , Within the walls which had
witnessed the fruitless repinings• of the Royal-
ist ministers, Napoleon meditated on the wants
of the poor, the interests of the army,
and the improvement of manufactures. His
works on these subjects soon challenged universal
attention. The committee of manufacturers dis-
tributed three thousand copies of his treatise on
the sugar question, and his general labours pro-
cured for him the notice of Arago, the counsel of
Sismondi, the eulogium of Beranger, and a- pre-
cious tribute from a quarter whence, perhaps, it
was least to be expected. In 1841 the royalist
Chateaubriand, thus addresses—not the possessor
of a throne who had any thing to give, but the
inmate of a prison who had every thing to suffer.
" Your 'love for public liberty, your courage and
your troubles would in my eyes put all rights on
your side, if to deserve your esteetn I did not feel
it my duty to remain faithful to Henry the Fifth,
as lam faithful to the glory of Napoleon. I can-
not sufficiently express my admiration of the
calmness of mind you display in the place in which
you now dwell ; you derive this power from your
race." The gat of Ham lay open to him at last
but not by Royal clemency, or as has been absurdly
rumoured, by Royal connivance either. After six
years of captivity, of heroic suffering and chivalrous
self-sacrifice lie returned to England, under the
assumed title of Count D'Alembert. There exist
proofs of many a kind and generous act performed.
by Napoleon even during his detention. For him,
indeed, it may be truly said—

" Stone walls did not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage."

at least so far as the heart was concerned. His
spirit was free, and its noblest impulses had ample
scope. The reserve, however, in which he habitu-
ally shrouds himself may not now be violated,
though that very reserve has made him the victim
of the grossest misconception. Few can see in the
taciturn recluse, the talents, attainments, and ac-
complishments, which he undoubtedly possesses.
They are only revealed by some unlooked for acci-
dent, such as occurred at this time, during his
residence in London. A great meeting happened
to be held concerning some projected, scientific
operation in Central America. All the principal
engineers in the metropolis were present, and to
their surprise, they found the Prince in the midst
of them. To their still greater astonishment, he
rose to address them ! He—what could he know
on such a subject ? They thought of Strasburg,
and they thought of Boulogne, and of cours3, very
little did they think of Napoleon Louis. A change
however, was soon to come " over the spirit of
their dream." What was their amazement when
they found him a perfect master of the subject--
versed in its details—familiar with all its bearings,
and manifestly a proficient in the abstrusest prin-
ciples of the science to be applied to it ! Such is
the man, and such ho will be found, when an
emergency demands him. Perhaps, indeed, there
are few better informed, or more accomplished
gentlemen in Europe. Six years of studious soli-
tude in Ham, and twenty of unwearied application
in Switzerland have stored his mind with every
variety of information. In the exact sciences he
is profoundly skilled no ordinary linguist
thorough engineer—equally apt with pen or pencil
—and with an intellect prompt to apply, fitly
and usefully, the knowledge it has treasured.
Amongst other charges, a fashion has prevailed
of attributing rashness to the Emperor ! It is an
ignorant mistake. A more cautious man is rarely
to be met with. Examples enough of this tempe-
rament are at hand. Take a single and a striking
instance. On the flight of the House of Orleans,
at the solicitation of friends, he repaired at once to
Paris. 0 ver-sanguine partizanship thought the crisis
ripe. Not so Napoleon. With philosophic calmness
he scanned the wondrous spectacle before him.
The nation seemed upheaving from its foundations.
A throne in ruins—a maniac population—the social
compact in process of dissolution—the scum of
society rising, as usual, in the revolutionary
cauldron—adventurers, without helm or chart, or
compass, or system, seeking to steer the State !
Such was the bewildering vision he encountered,
and he turned from it in disgust. It was, to be
sure, within the range of possibility that his name
might have operated, as a talisman, on the multi-
tude. It was a tempting hazard and difficult of
resistance, but the tempation was overcome. Once
more in England, he pored over the past, studied
the present, and carefully matured his preparations
for the future: This was assuredly not the course
of an enthusiast, ready to rush headlong into
strife, even where some advantages might have
augured victory. Alone and patiently he watched
his time—it came at last—and, with it—Tno
EMPIRE. There it is again—the gorgeous struc-
ture of the First Napoleon, with all its
grandeur, all its might, and graced with all its
glorious recollections ! There it is, despite of
clubs, cabals, and coteries—despite of Faubourgs,
Royal or Republican—of scowling generals and,
sneering statesmen, and prophetic historians, and
all the motley of a discomfited opposition., There
it stands—a fact accomplished, and a fact which
has no parallel in history. There it is, and there
he is, too, the necromancer of this mighty transfor-
mation. See him—the shunned, the life-long car
tive—the lonely exile, hunted from land to land
the homeless, the all but friendless, the entirely'
fortuneless, on the throne of France ! ! " Alone
ho did it." See him enrolled into the fraternity of
kings, and what to him gives it a priceless value"
enrolled there by the people. It is remarkable
that, though by the senatus-consultum of 1804
and by the deaths of his father and his uncig
Joseph, he stood in direct succession to the
empire, he waved at once the hereditary claim, r;
cognising no title but that of popular election. And
under all the circumstances this was prudence'
There is no muniment in Europe more valid than
his sovereignty. " The people gave it and he re-
ceived it," and he will retain it so long as he
keeps his compact with the people.
All the foolish, if not wicked, rumours raised on
his accession have long since evaporated. Your
Lordship may remember some of them. He was to
have steeped the world in war ! He was to have
vaded England ! They know not the man. Nevets
.
was announcement more sincere than that whiel;
thrilled through Europe—" The Empire is Peace. ,
War ! What can a Bonaparte derive from war,.!
All glory's gifts enrich that name already. It atana'
alongside those of the Caesars, the Alexanders, the
Hannibals, and all that history reveals of greatness'
The Eagle which soared against the Sun of Austen
litz has winged its way into the regions of immor-
tality. The invasion of England ! Had such WI
hallucination ever crossed his brain, he would have
banished it at once. He knows our nation, and he
knows that the soil whose very touch gives freedoo
to the slave would never brook the tread of an
invader. The hazard of the waves evaded, bd
would find a fortress in every hill, and, shoal
need be, in every city in England, a Saguntunt
If his march was one of victory, it would be throng':
ruins. He knows all this, and accurately estimates
our spirit, our strength, and our resources. Donn'
less he has heard the anecdote of old Soult upon 01'
subject. Dining one day amongst some militalt
friends, the contemplated invasion was discussed. .la.
was during the Orleans reign, however. All agreed
that nothing could be easier. " Gentlemen (OA
the veteran), such is not my opinion. I have 1)10
in Birmingham, and I saw them make a musket',
But rely on it, higher and nobler principles In,:
fluence Napoleon. Why should he sigh after te4
ritory or conquest ? Does not the lovely realin
governs demand all his energies and all his taleo
and is not its compass abundant for any sane 0.1:6-0
bition ? Willingly would he obliterate every trsee
of discord between two fair lands which Nstilio
has united by the ties of neighbourhood. Pi,
every act, since he had power, has proved
,130
Rivals he would have them, but it would be in' 0,
blessed rivalries of peace—their only contest
friendly competition for the promotion of the O,
mon happiness. The heart, too has its memorl, w 0
Never would he stain that soil with blood, whieu'
ld
his need afforded him a refuge—never 'ff°llthe
he sadden that mild and gentle spirit, ito
contentment of whose subjects beneath
sway he witnessed. Never would he willinVa
that peace imperil in defence of which he enrel„,ico,
himself amongst the very humblest of our citize:ile
No, no, indeed, the exile is not forgotten in 'ro,
Emperor, It was but the other day in bis P

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