701 
PARIS. 
with plain top and fides, black ebony round the edges, and 
filver-headed fcrews raifed above the lid. The funeral took 
place on Wednefday the 9th of May, about noon. The 
heavy coffins containing the body were placed on a car 
drawn by four of Napoleon’s own horfes, and attended by 
24. grenadiers, 12 on each fide, to carry the body down a 
deep hill where the car could not go. Count Montho- 
lon and General Bertrand were the pall-bearers, madame 
Bertrand with her family following. Next came lady 
Lowe and her daughters in deep mourning; then the 
junior officers of the navy; the ftaft" of the army; laft, 
fir Hudfon Lowe and the admiral brought up the rear. 
The 66th and 20th regiments, the artillery, volunteers, 
and marines, in all full 3000 men, were drawn up, two 
deep, on the road-fide, out of Longwood gates; each 
man refting the point of his mufket on his foot, with the 
left hand on its butt, and the left cheek leaning on his 
band in a mournful pofition ; the band ftationed at the 
bead of each corps playing a dead march. The place of 
interment was at the head of Rupert’s Valley, about half 
way between James-town and Longwood, under the 
fhade of a large willow-tree, near a fmall fpring-well. 
For fome years paft he had water carried to him daily 
from this well, in two filver tankards which he brought 
from Mofcow. Some years lince, when viiiting this well, 
in company with madame Bertrand, he faid, if the Bri- 
tilh government buried him on St. Helena, he vvifhed 
this to be the fpot. It is certainly a very retired pretty 
iituation, furrounded by high hills in the form of an 
amphitheatre, the public road to Longwood leading 
along the top of the ridge. After letting the coffin into 
the grave, three volleys were fired, (fee p. 719.) and the 
flag-lhip alfo fired 25 minute-guns. A catholic prieft had 
previoufiy confecrated the place according to the rites of 
the Romifh church. The grave was ten feet long, ten 
deep, and five wide ; the bottom happened to be folid 
rock, in which a fpace was cut to receive the coffin; the 
fides and ends of the grave were each walled in with one 
large Portland flag, and three large flags were put imme¬ 
diately over the coffin, and fattened down with iron bars 
and lead, befides Roman cement. The top of the grave 
is elevated about eight inches above the furface of the 
c-round, and covered over with three rough flates. 
° Napoleon Bonaparte, once the terror and the fcourge 
of Europe, is now no more. He was the inveterate ene¬ 
my of this country, it is true; but he paid the full for¬ 
feit; and, if he did us much injury by his hottility, it 
was alfo the means of calling forth fo many energies, and 
producing fuch a difplay of patriotifm on the part of the 
country, that it may be fairly doubted, whether he 
ferved or injured us moft by his enmity. But he is dead ; 
and the hatred which he excited when alive is buried in 
the grave which enclofes his remains. Whatever fhall be 
faid of him henceforth will not be marked by vindidlive 
feelings; an exception may occur here and there, but 
the generous and high-minded will mark it with indig¬ 
nation. The towering height to which he afcended ; 
the felf-pofleffion which he difplayed during his meteor¬ 
like afcent; the humble level from which he darted ; and 
the prefence of mind, or rather perfect eafe, which he dif¬ 
played, when he alighted on that narrow and giddy fum- 
mit, evidently proved that his genius was of the eagle 
kind. He role by the natural ftrength of his wings; and, 
when he foared at a vaft diftance above the ordinary re¬ 
gion of humanity—in that keen air, where mortals can 
l'carcely breathe—it was plain that he was in a congenial 
element. But, if he had'powers more than mortal, he 
wanted the amiable qualities of human nature—he neither 
loved nor pitied —he took no part in their feelings; and 
he never (topped a moment to confider, when he was 
ruffling upon one of thofe enterprifes which altoniffied 
the world by their grandeur, and by the rapidity with 
which they were executed, what mifchief he might oc- 
cafion in confequence. He was apparently unmoved by 
human fufterings, and he probably participated as little 
in their joys. This infenfibility was one of the caufes of 
his wonderful fuccefs; and it was, no doubt, one of the 
reafons of his rapid defcent. He had nothing to arrelt 
him in his afcent. Pleafure called to him in vain to ftop 
and refreth himfelf in one of her bowers, whillt he was 
bounding up the tteep and rugged hill of ambition. The 
Charities implored him to no purpofe to check his fu¬ 
rious pace; and, when we confider the natural ftrength 
of his genius, without any thing to impede it in its 
courfe, we are not aftonil'ned at the height to which he 
mounted. As to his military talents, they are fo deeply 
engraved in the brazen tablet of fame, that it would 
(how Id's ftupidity, than the envy of a bale fpirit, to 
deny them. But it was in his capacity of ruler, that the 
hardnefs of his character chiefly difplayed irfelf. There 
his folitary nature was molt confpicuous. From his ele¬ 
vated throne he looked down only upon crouching (laves. 
He conferred upon them titles and honours-and digni¬ 
ties ; but they were badges of (ervitude, or the rewards 
of having miniftered to his glory; they conferred no 
real dignity of mind ; they imparted no confcious pride; 
and they ferved only by their decorations and wealth to 
fwell the pomp of his court. The principle of his go¬ 
vernment ■ was felfiflinefs; and we are compelled to lay, 
whillt we are difpofed to do ample jultice to his extraor¬ 
dinary genius, that he did not make ufe of it in fuch a 
manner as ought to give -him a title to the refpeft and 
gratitude of mankind. 
Never has there been a more ftriking inftance of the 
infubftantiality and worthleflnefs of popular attention 
than the efFeft (or rather no effedf) produced at Paris bv 
the account of Bonaparte’s death. The people who, but 
a few years back, either trembled before him in fear or 
bailed his appearance with fliouts of enthuiiafm, now lis¬ 
tened to the narrative of his death with an ahfence of 
emotion nearly amounting to complete apathy ; they took 
fcarcely the trouble of expreffing their furprife on the oc- 
cafion ; and the principal and almoft only remark on the 
circumftance was, that “he (liould not have gone to die 
at St. Helena, but ought to have died, as he lived, an 
emperor, at Waterloo.” 
END of the EIGHTEENTH VOLUME. 
