Star.
London, England, 1830-08-19 00:00:00

NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE.

The history of this interesting fragment is as follows; and we
leave our readers to form their own judgment as to its authenticity.
It appeared in a work which was immediately suppressed in France ;
and since that period no trace of it has been discoverable; so that
this MS. copied horn it at the time, has very nearly the value of an
original. It purports to be part of a letter written by Buonaparte
at the period of the execution of Louis XVI. and must be perused
with peculiar feelings at this eventful moment :

I, I learnt the next day that the Advocate Target had:refused
his professional aid to his Sovereign. This was, in the strongest
acceptation of the term, to erase his name horn the records of
immortality ! What were the arguments of his cowardly pru-
dence ? I shall net save his life, whilst 1 may risk my Own.'
Malesherbes, Trouchet, Deane, faithful and devoted subjects
(whom I could not imitate, but whom, if I were a Monarch, I would
place at my right hand), united to defend, by their zealous exertions,
the descendant of St. Louis. Should they survive this coura-
geous act of fidelity, I will never pass them without baring my
head. Detained by business at Versailles, I only returned to
Paris on the 16th of January. I bad consequently lost three or
four scenes of this ambitious Tragedy, but on the 18th, I at.
tended the National Convention. Ah ! my friend ! whatever these
revolutionary maniacs may say, a Monarch is not merely a man
his head will fall, it is true, with that of the shepherd, but he who
commands the murder will shudder at his own temerity ; and were
he not compelled by the force of his secret motives, the sentence
would expire on his lips ere its utterance. I gazed eagerly on the
Intrepid mortals who were about to dare to pronounce on the fate of
their virtuous Sovereign. 1 studied their looks—scrutinized their
very hearts. It was by the excess, the importance of their trespass,
they were supported, whilst inwardly awed by the rank of their vic-
tim : could they have ventured to retract, the Pri- had been saved
But unfortunately they had said, If his bead does not fall to-day, ours
must soon submit to the stroke of the executioner. This was the
predominant ides that dictated their votes. No pen could with
justice describe the situation of the people in the galleries. Silent,
gloomy, breathless, their looks were alternately directed towards the
accused, his advocate, and his judge. Circumstance as strange as
horrible, d'Orleans' vote was--Death ! The shock of electricity
would have been less visibly felt : the Assembly rose with one spon-
taneous start of horror, and the hall reverberated the murmur of
similar and responsive feeling s one man alone, immovable as •
rock, kept his seat—it was I I I ventured to inquire of myself the
cause of this indifference ; I found it in ambition—only such a sen-
timent could reconcile the conduct of the Duke of Orleans ; to me.

therefore it was natural : he sought a throne to which he had no
title, and such acquisitions arena to be made without forfeiting the
right to virtuous and general estimation.
" I shall now, my friend, become concise: I do not like the
unfolding of funeral crape. The King was condemned to death !
and if the 21st of January did not for ever affix an odium on the
French character, at least it added a glorious name to the list of
martyrs ! What a town was Paris on this awful day ! The popu-
lation appeared in a state of stupefaction : it seemed that the people
assembled only to exchange gloomy looks, and to fly from each
other without speaking. The streets were deserted, and houses and
palaces wore the appearance of tombs. The air even seemed to
I smell of the executioner. To be brief, the descendant of St. Louis
was lead to death, through files of mournful automata, but lately
his subjects.
If any one be near you, my friend, when you read this dispatch
(even if it were your father), conceal from him what follows—it is a
stain on the stuff of which my character is made. That Napoleon
Buonaparte should be sensibly affected at the destruction of a hu-
man being, and constrained to keep his bed from the consequences
of this impression, is a fact scarcely to be believed, though true,
and one which I cannot avow without blushing with contempt for
myself. Yes, I experienced a feeling which, however admirable in
another, was disgraceful to one who had disavowed all the weakness
of the human heart. The night preceding the 21st of January, I
had not closed my eyes ; yet I was unable to account to myself for the
cause of my unusual agitation. I rose early, and eagerly ran wherever
the crowd was assembling. I wondered at, or rather I despised,
the passive imbecility of forty thousand National Guards, of whom
nine-tenths were only mechanically the agents of the executioner. At
the Porte St. Denis I met Santerre; he was followed by a numerous
staff. I should have liked to have cut off his ears; I spit at him,
not being able to do more. In my opinion, his post had been better
filled by the Duke d'Orleans ; his object was a crown ; and we all
know that such a motive overbalances many considerations. Pro-
ceeding along the Boulevards, I reached the Place de Revolution. I
was ignorant of the invention of a guillotine ; a cold perpiration
crept over me. A stranger, who stood near me, attributed my
agitation and paleness to a peculiar interest in the King of France.
Be of better cheer,' said he, he will not perish; the Convention
is only desirous of proving its power, and he will meet his pardon
at the foot of the scaffold.' If that be so,' replied I,' the gentle-
men conventionalists are not themselves farfrom their fall, and never
would culprits more richly deserve their fate. He who attacks a
lion, and would avoid being destroyed by him, should not wound, but I
throw him dead upon the spot.' A low and confused noise was heard
—it was the Royal victim ! I hurried forward, elbowing and elbowed;
I approached as far as I could—all my efforts to get near were
vain; the scaffold was hid from me by an armed fares. The
rolling of drums suddenly interrupted the mournful silence of
the assembled multitude. It is the signal of his release,' said
the stranger. And it will rebound on his murderers,' I
in such a case, half a crime is a weakness.' A momentary sileenee
ensued. Suddenly something fall heavily on the scaffold; the noise
struck at my heart. I inquired the came of a gendarme. 'lt Is
the falling of the an,' he replied. "The King is not then saved?
he is dad, he is dead I' 1 became insensible for seen minutes,
and, without knowing by wham, I bed been taken by the crowd. I
found myself on the Quai des nestles; there I movered BOUM
degree of recollection, but I could utter no word except ' He Is
dead,' In a state of distraction I reached home, bat at least m
hour elapsed befoul had pufsedy regained my smug