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from the house, where he was permitted to receive some clothes and necessaries. Being now recognised, he was transferred, with his attendants, to the citadel of Strasburg, and presently afterwards separated from the gentlemen of his household, with the exception of his aide-de-camp, the Baron de St. Jacques. He was allowed to communicate with no one. He remained a close prisoner for three days; but on the 18th, betwixt one and two in the morning, he was obliged to rise and dress himself hastily, being only informed that he was about to commence a journey. He requested the attendance of his valet-de-chambre, but was answered that it was unnecessary. The linen which he was permitted to take with him amounted to two shirts only; so nicely had his worldly wants been calculated and ascertained. He was transported with the utmost speed and secrecy towards Paris, where he arrived on the 20th; and, after having been committed for a few hours to the Temple, was transferred to the ancient Gothic castle of Vincennes, about a mile from the city, long used as a state prison, but whose walls never received a more illustrious or a more innocent victim. There he was permitted to take some repose; and, as if the favour had only been granted for the purpose of being withdrawn, he was awaked at midnight, and called upon to sustain an interrogatory on which his life depended, and to which he replied with the utmost composure. On the ensuing night, at the same dead hour, he was brought before the pretended court. The law enjoined that he should have had a defender appointed to plead his cause. But none such was allotted to him.

      The inquisitors before whom he was hurried, formed a military commission of eight officers, having General Hulin as their president. They were, as the proceedings express it, named by Buonaparte's brother-in-law Murat, then governor of Paris. Though necessarily exhausted with fatigue and want of rest, the Duke d'Enghien performed in this melancholy scene a part worthy of the last descendant of the great Condé. He avowed his name and rank, and the share which he had taken in the war against France, but denied all knowledge of Pichegru or of his conspiracy. The interrogations ended by his demanding an audience of the chief consul. "My name," he said, "my rank, my sentiments, and the peculiar distress of my situation, lead me to hope that my request will not be refused."

      The military commissioners paused and hesitated – nay, though selected doubtless as fitted for the office, they were even affected by the whole behaviour, and especially by the intrepidity, of the unhappy prince. But Savary, then chief of the police, stood behind the president's chair, and controlled their sentiments of compassion. When they proposed to further the prisoner's request of an audience of the first consul, Savary cut the discussion short, by saying, that was inexpedient. At length they reported their opinion, that the Duke d'Enghien was guilty of having fought against the Republic, intrigued with England, and maintained intelligence in Strasburg, for the purpose of seizing the place; – great part of which allegations, and especially the last, was in express contradiction to the only proof adduced, the admission, namely, of the prisoner himself. The report being sent to Buonaparte to know his farther pleasure, the court received for answer their own letter, marked with the emphatic words, "Condemned to death." Napoleon was obeyed by his satraps with Persian devotion. The sentence was pronounced, and the prisoner received it with the same intrepid gallantry which distinguished him through the whole of the bloody scene. He requested the aid of a confessor. "Would you die like a monk?" is said to have been the insulting reply. The duke, without noticing the insult, knelt down for a minute, and seemed absorbed in profound devotion.

      "Let us go," he said, when he arose from his knees. All was in readiness for the execution; and, as if to stamp the trial as a mere mockery, the grave had been prepared ere the judgment of the court was pronounced.54 Upon quitting the apartment in which the pretended trial had taken place, the prince was conducted by torch-light down a winding-stair, which seemed to descend to the dungeons of the ancient castle.

      "Am I to be immured in an oubliette?" he said, naturally recollecting the use which had sometimes been made of those tombs for the living. – "No, Monseigneur," answered the soldier he addressed, in a voice interrupted by sobs, "be tranquil on that subject." The stair led to a postern, which opened into the castle ditch, where, as we have already said, a grave was dug, beside which were drawn up a party of the gendarmes d'élite. It was near six o'clock in the morning, and day had dawned. But as there was a heavy mist on the ground, several torches and lamps mixed their pale and ominous light with that afforded by the heavens, – a circumstance which seems to have given rise to the inaccurate report, that a lantern was tied to the button of the victim, that his slayers might take the more certain aim. Savary was again in attendance, and had taken his place upon a parapet which commanded the place of execution. The victim was placed, the fatal word was given by the future Duke de Rovigo, the party fired, and the prisoner fell. The body, dressed as it was, and without the slightest attention to the usual decencies of sepulture, was huddled into the grave with as little ceremony as common robbers use towards the carcases of the murdered.

      Paris learned with astonishment and fear the singular deed which had been perpetrated so near her walls. No act had ever excited more universal horror, both in France and in foreign countries, and none has left so deep a stain on the memory of Napoleon. If there were farther proof necessary of the general opinion of mankind on the subject, the anxiety displayed by Savary, Hulin, and the other subaltern agents in this shameful transaction to diminish their own share in it, or transfer it to others, would be sufficient evidence of the deep responsibility to which they felt themselves subjected.

      There is but justice, however, in listening to the defence which Buonaparte set up for himself when in Saint Helena, especially as it appeared perfectly convincing to Las Cases, his attendant who, though reconciled to most of his master's actions, had continued to regard the Duke d'Enghien's death as so great a blot upon his escutcheon, that he blushed even when Napoleon himself introduced the subject.55

      His exculpation seems to have assumed a different and inconsistent character, according to the audience to whom it was stated. Among his intimate friends and followers, he appears to have represented the whole transaction as an affair not of his own device, but which was pressed upon him by surprise by his ministers. "I was seated," he said, "alone, and engaged in finishing my coffee, when they came to announce to me the discovery of some new machination. They represented it was time to put an end to such horrible attempts, by washing myself in the blood of one amongst the Bourbons; and they suggested the Duke d'Enghien as the most proper victim." Buonaparte proceeds to say, that he did not know exactly who the Duke d'Enghien was, far less that he resided so near France as to be only three leagues from the Rhine. This was explained. "In that case," said Napoleon, "he ought to be arrested." His prudent ministers had foreseen this conclusion. They had the whole scheme laid, and the orders ready drawn up for Buonaparte's signature; so that, according to this account, he was hurried into the enormity by the zeal of those about him, or perhaps in consequence of their private views and mysterious intrigues. He also charged Talleyrand with concealing from him a letter,56 written by the unfortunate prisoner, in which he offered his services to Buonaparte, but which was intercepted by the minister. If this had reached him in time, he intimates that he would have spared the prince's life. To render this statement probable, he denies generally that Josephine had interested herself to the utmost to engage him to spare the duke; although this has been affirmed by the testimony of such as declared, that they received the fact from the Empress's own lips.57

      It is unfortunate for the truth of this statement and the soundness of the defence which it contains, that neither Talleyrand, nor any human being save Buonaparte himself, could have the least interest in the death of the Duke d'Enghien. That Napoleon should be furious at the conspiracies of Georges and Pichegru and should be willing to avenge the personal dangers he incurred; and that he should be desirous to intimidate the family of Bourbon, by "washing himself," as he expresses it, "in the blood of one of their House," was much in character. But that the sagacious Talleyrand should have hurried on a cruel proceeding, in which he had no earthly interest, is as unlikely, as that, if he had desired to do so, he could have been able to elicit from Buonaparte the powers necessary for an act of so much consequence, without his master having given the affair, in all its bearings, the most full and ample consideration. It may also be noticed, that besides transferring a part at least of the guilt from himself, Buonaparte might be disposed

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