hem and their
discomfited countrymen, exclaiming, "They are French--they are
unfortunate; I place them under the guardianship of your honour."

The horror with which this remorseless tragedy was heard of in Paris,
soon spread throughout all Europe; and from that day the name of
Buonaparte was irremediably associated with the ideas of sullen revenge
and tyrannic cruelty. The massacre of Jaffa had been perpetrated in a
remote land, and many listened with incredulity to a tale told by the
avowed enemies of the homicide. But this bloody deed was done at home,
and almost in the sight of all Paris. Of the fact there could be no
doubt; and of the pretexts set forth by the organs of the French
government, there were few men of any party who affected not to perceive
the futility. Hitherto Napoleon had been the fortunate heir of a
revolution, in whose civil excesses he had scarcely
participated--henceforth he was the legitimate representative and symbol
of all its atrocities.

In so far as Buonaparte had the power to suppress all mention of this
catastrophe, it was, at the time, suppressed. But in after days, at St.
Helena, when dictating the apology of his life to the companions of his
exile, he not only spoke openly of the death of the Duke d'Enghien, but
appears to have dwelt upon it often and long. Well aware that this was
generally regarded as the darkest trait in his history, he displayed a
feverish anxiety to explain it away. But the Sultan Akber wore a signet,
inscribed, "I never knew any one that lost his way in a straight road;"
and he that is conscious of innocence can have no temptation to multiply
the lines of his defence. Buonaparte, according to the mood of the
moment, or the companion whom he addressed, adopted different methods of
vindicating himself. They were inconsistent as well as diverse; and even
Las Cases seems to have blushed for his hero when he recorded them.

At one time Napoleon represents himself as having been taken by
surprise: his ministers come on him when he is alone, at midnight, and
inform him that the Bourbons have conspired to assassinate him--that the
proofs are in their hands--that the Duke d'Enghien has already been more
than once in Paris, and is lying close to the frontier, expecting the
signal to return and head the conspirators in person.--In the first
flush of indignation he gives the order for arresting the duke--every
artifice is adopted to prevent him from interfering
afterward