have seen in the case of the revolution of Brumaire, were not contemplated by Napoleon so calmly as the tumults of the field.  At this time besides he was suffering under a bodily illness, the fruit of debauchery, which acts severely on the stoutest nerves.  It is admitted on all hands that he showed more of uneasiness and anxiety than accords with the notion of a heroic character.  At length he disguised himself, and sometimes appearing in an Austrian uniform, at others riding on before the carriages in the garb of a courier, reached in safety the place of embarkation.

A French vessel had been sent round from Toulon to Cannes, for the purpose of conveying him to Elba; but there happened to be an English frigate also in the roads, and he preferred sailing under any flag rather than the Bourbon.  His equanimity seemed perfectly re-established from the moment when he set his foot on the British deck.  He conversed affably with Captain Usher and the officers; and by the ease and plainness of his manners, his intelligent curiosity as to the arrangements of the ship, and the warm eulogies which he continued to pronounce on them, and on the character of the English nation at large, he succeeded in making a very favourable impression on all the crew—­with the exception of Hinton, a shrewd old boatswain, who, unmoved by all the imperial blandishments, growled, at the close of every fine speech, the same homely comment, “humbug.”  Saving this hard veteran, the usual language of the forecastle was, that “Buonaparte was a very good fellow after all”; and when, on finally leaving the Undaunted, he caused some 200 Napoleons to be distributed among the sailors, they “wished his honour long life, and better luck the next time.”

He came within view of his new dominions on the afternoon of the 4th of May, and went ashore in disguise the same evening, in order to ascertain for himself whether the feelings of the Elbese at all resembled those of the Provencals.  Finding that, on the contrary, the people considered his residence as likely to increase in every way the consequence and prosperity of their island, he returned on board the ship, and at noon, the day after, made his public entrance into the town of Porto Ferraio, amidst all possible demonstrations of welcome and respect.

The Russian and Prussian commissioners did not accompany him beyond the coast of Provence:  the Austrian Baron Kholer, and the English Sir Neil Campbell, landed with Napoleon, and took up their residence at Ferraio.  He continued for some time to treat both of these gentlemen with every mark of distinction, and even cordiality:  made them the companions of his table and excursions; and conversed with apparent openness and candour on the past, the present, and the future.  “There is but one people in the world,” said he to Colonel Campbell—­“the English—­the rest are only so many populaces.  I tried to raise the French to your level of sentiment, and failing to do so, fell of course.  I am now politically dead to Europe.  Let me do what I can for Elba....  It must be confessed,” said he, having climbed the hill above Ferraio, from whence he could look down on the whole of his territory as on a map—­“it must be confessed,” said the Emperor, smiling, “that my island is very small.”