CELEBRATED CRIMES, COMPLETE

BY ALEXANDRE DUMAS, PERE

IN EIGHT VOLUMES

MURAT--1815

I--TOULON

On the 18th June, 1815, at the very moment when the destiny of Europewas being decided at Waterloo, a man dressed like a beggar was silentlyfollowing the road from Toulon to Marseilles. 

Arrived at the entrance of the Gorge of Ollioulles, he halted on alittle eminence from which he could see all the surrounding country;then either because he had reached the end of his journey, or because, before attempting that forbidding, sombre pass which is called theThermopylae of Provence, he wished to enjoy the magnificent view whichspread to the southern horizon a little longer, he went and sat down onthe edge of the ditch which bordered the road, turning his back on themountains which rise like an amphitheatre to the north of the town, and having at his feet a rich plain covered with tropical vegetation, exotics of a conservatory, trees and flowers quite unknown in any otherpart of France. 

Beyond this plain, glittering in the last rays of the sun, pale andmotionless as a mirror lay the sea, and on the surface of the waterglided one brig-of-war, which, taking advantage of a fresh land breeze, had all sails spread, and was bowling along rapidly, making for Italianseas. The beggar followed it eagerly with his eyes until it disappearedbetween the Cape of Gien and the first of the islands of Hyeres, then asthe white apparition vanished he sighed deeply, let his head fall intohis hands, and remained motionless and absorbed in his reflections untilthe tramplings of a cavalcade made him start; he looked up, shook backhis long black hair, as if he wished to get rid of the gloomy thoughtswhich were overwhelming him, and, looking at the entrance to the gorgefrom whence the noise came, he soon saw two riders appear, who were nodoubt well known to him, for, drawing himself up to his full height, he let fall the stick he was carrying, and folding his arms he turnedtowards them. On their side the new-comers had hardly seen him beforethey halted, and the foremost dismounted, threw his bridle to hiscompanion, and uncovering, though fifty paces from the man in rags, advanced respectfully towards him. The beggar allowed him to approachwith an air of sombre dignity and without a single movement; then, whenhe was quite near--

"Well, marshal, have, you news for me?" said the beggar. 

"Yes, sire, " said the other sadly. 

"And what are they?"

"Such that I could wish it were anyone but myself to announce them toyour Majesty----"

"So the Emperor refuses my services! He forgets the victories ofAboukir, Eylau, and Moscow?"

"No, sire; but he remembers the treaty of Naples, the taking of Reggio, and the declaration of war of the viceroy of Italy. "

The beggar struck his forehead. 

"Yes, yes! I daresay he thinks I deserve his reproaches, and yet itseems to me that he ought to remember that there are two men in me--thesoldier whom he made his brother, and the brother whom he made aking. . . . Yes, as brother I have treated him ill--very ill, but as king, upon my soul, I could not have acted differently. . . . I had to choosebetween my sword and my crown, and between a regiment and a people. Listen, Brune: you do not know how it all happened. There was anEnglish fleet, the guns of which were growling in the port, there wasa Neapolitan population howling in the streets. If I had been alone, I would have passed through the fleet with one boat, through the crowdwith my sword alone, but I had a wife and children. Yet I hesitated; theidea of being called traitor and deserter caused me to shed more tearsthan the loss of my throne, or perhaps the death of those I love best, will ever wring from me. . . . And so he will have nothing more to do withme? He refuses me as general, captain, private? Then what is left for meto do?"

"Sire, your Majesty must leave France immediately. "

"And if I don't obey?"

"My orders are to arrest you and deliver you up to a court-martial!"

"Old comrade, you will not do that?"

"I shall do it, praying God to strike me dead in the moment I lay handson you!"

"That's you all over, Brune. You have been able to remain a good, loyalfellow. He did not give you a kingdom, he did not encircle your browwith a band of iron which men call a crown and which drives one mad;he did not place you between your conscience and your family. So I mustleave France, begin my vagabond life again, and say farewell to Toulon, which recalls so many memories to me! See, Brune, " continued Murat, leaning on the arm of the marshal, "are not the pines yonder as fineas any at the Villa Pamfili, the palms as imposing as any at Cairo, themountains as grand as any range in the Tyrol? Look to your left, isnot Cape Gien something like Castellamare and Sorrento--leaving outVesuvius? And see, Saint-Mandrier at the farthest point of the gulf, isit not like my rock of Capri, which Lamarque juggled away so cleverlyfrom that idiot of a Sir Hudson Lowe? My God! and I must leave allthis! Is there no way of remaining on this little corner of Frenchground--tell me, Brune!"

"You'll break my heart, sire!" answered the marshal. 

"Well, we'll say no more about it. What news?"

"The Emperor has left Paris to join the army. They must be fightingnow. "

"Fighting now and I not there! Oh, I feel I could have been of use tohim on this battlefield. How I would have gloried in charging thosemiserable Prussians and dastardly English! Brune, give me a passport, I'll go at full speed, I'll reach the army, I will make myself known tosome colonel, I shall say, 'Give me your regiment. ' I'll charge at itshead, and if the Emperor does not clasp my hand to-night, I'll blow mybrains out, I swear I will. Do what I ask, Brune, and however it mayend, my eternal gratitude will be yours!"

"I cannot, sire. "

"Well, well, say no more about it. "

"And your Majesty is going to leave France?"

"I don't know. Obey your orders, marshal, and if you come across meagain, have me arrested. That's another way of doing something for me. Life is a heavy burden nowadays. He who will relieve me of it will bewelcome. . . . Good-bye, Brune. "

He held out his hand to the marshal, who tried to kiss it; but Muratopened his arms, the two old comrades held each other fast for a moment, with swelling hearts and eyes full of tears; then at last they parted. Brune remounted his horse, Murat picked up his stick again, and thetwo men went away in opposite directions, one to meet his death byassassination at Avignon, the other to be shot at Pizzo. Meanwhile, like Richard III, Napoleon was bartering his crown against a horse atWaterloo. 

After the interview that has just been related, Murat took refuge withhis nephew, who was called Bonafoux, and who was captain of a frigate;but this retreat could only be temporary, for the relationship wouldinevitably awake the suspicions of the authorities. In consequence, Bonafoux set about finding a more secret place of refuge for his uncle. He hit on one of his friends, an avocat, a man famed for his integrity, and that very evening Bonafoux went to see him. 

After chatting on general subjects, he asked his friend if he had nota house at the seaside, and receiving an affirmative answer, he invitedhimself to breakfast there the next day; the proposal naturally enoughwas agreed to with pleasure. The next day at the appointed hour Bonafouxarrived at Bonette, which was the name of the country house where M. Marouin's wife and daughter were staying. M. Marouin himself was keptby his work at Toulon. After the ordinary greetings, Bonafoux stepped tothe window, beckoning to Marouin to rejoin him. 

"I thought, " he said uneasily, "that your house was by the sea. "

"We are hardly ten minutes' walk from it. "

"But it is not in sight. "

"That hill prevents you from seeing it. "

"May we go for a stroll on the beach before breakfast is served?"

"By all means. Well, your horse is still saddled. I will order mine--Iwill come back for you. "

Marouin went out. Bonafoux remained at the window, absorbed in histhoughts. The ladies of the house, occupied in preparations for themeal, did not observe, or did not appear to observe, his preoccupation. In five minutes Marouin came back. He was ready to start. The avocat andhis friend mounted their horses and rode quickly down to the sea. Onthe beach the captain slackened his pace, and riding along the shore forabout half an hour, he seemed to be examining the bearings of thecoast with great attention. Marouin followed without inquiring into hisinvestigations, which seemed natural enough for a naval officer. 

After about an hour the two men went back to the house. 

Marouin wished to have the horses unsaddled, but Bonafoux objected, saying that he must go back to Toulon immediately after lunch. Indeed, the coffee was hardly finished before he rose and took leave of hishosts. Marouin, called back to town by his work, mounted his horse too, and the two friends rode back to Toulon together. After riding along forten minutes, Bonafoux went close to his companion and touched him on thethigh--

"Marouin, " he said, "I have an important secret to confide to you. "

"Speak, captain. After a father confessor, you know there is no one sodiscreet as a notary, and after a notary an avocat. "

"You can quite understand that I did not come to your country housejust for the pleasure of the ride. A more important object, a seriousresponsibility, preoccupied me; I have chosen you out of all my friends, believing that you were devoted enough to me to render me a greatservice. "

"You did well, captain. "

"Let us go straight to the point, as men who respect and trust eachother should do. My uncle, King Joachim, is proscribed, he has takenrefuge with me; but he cannot remain there, for I am the firstperson they will suspect. Your house is in an isolated position, andconsequently we could not find a better retreat for him. You must put itat our disposal until events enable the king to come to some decision. "

"It is at your service, " said Marouin. 

"Right. My uncle shall sleep there to-night. "

"But at least give me time to make some preparations worthy of my royalguest. "

"My poor Marouin, you are giving yourself unnecessary trouble, andmaking a vexatious delay for us: King Joachim is no longer accustomed topalaces and courtiers; he is only too happy nowadays to find a cottagewith a friend in it; besides, I have let him know about it, so sure wasI of your answer. He is counting on sleeping at your house to-night, andif I try to change his determination now he will see a refusal inwhat is only a postponement, and you will lose all the credit for yourgenerous and noble action. There--it is agreed: to-night at ten at theChamps de Mars. "

With these words the captain put his horse to a gallop and disappeared. Marouin turned his horse and went back to his country house to give thenecessary orders for the reception of a stranger whose name he did notmention. 

At ten o'clock at night, as had been agreed, Marouin was on the Champsde Mars, then covered with Marshal Brune's field-artillery. No one hadarrived yet. He walked up and down between the gun-carriages until afunctionary came to ask what he was doing. He was hard put to it to findan answer: a man is hardly likely to be wandering about in an artillerypark at ten o'clock at night for the mere pleasure of the thing. Heasked to see the commanding officer. The officer came up: M. Marouininformed him that he was an avocat, attached to the law courts ofToulon, and told him that he had arranged to meet someone on the Champsde Mars, not knowing that it was prohibited, and that he was stillwaiting for that person. After this explanation, the officer authorisedhim to remain, and went back to his quarters. The sentinel, a faithfuladherent to discipline, continued to pace up and down with his measuredstep, without troubling any more about the stranger's presence. 

A few moments later a group of several persons appeared from thedirection of Les Lices. The night was magnificent, and the moonbrilliant. Marouin recognised Bonafoux, and went up to him. The captainat once took him by the hand and led him to the king, and speaking inturn to each of them--

"Sire, " he said, "here is the friend. I told you of. "

Then turning to Marouin--

"Here, " he said, "is the King of Naples, exile and fugitive, whom Iconfide to your care. I do not speak of the possibility that some dayhe may get back his crown, that would deprive you of the credit of yourfine action. . . . Now, be his guide--we will follow at a distance. March!"

The king and the lawyer set out at once together. Murat was dressed ina blue coat-semi-military, semi-civil, buttoned to the throat; he worewhite trousers and top boots with spurs; he had long hair, moustache, and thick whiskers, which would reach round his neck. 

As they rode along he questioned his host about the situation ofhis country house and the facility for reaching the sea in case of asurprise. Towards midnight the king and Marouin arrived at Bonette; theroyal suite came up in about ten minutes; it consisted of about thirtyindividuals. After partaking of some light refreshment, this littletroop, the last of the court of the deposed king, retired to disperse inthe town and its environs, and Murat remained alone with the women, onlykeeping one valet named Leblanc. 

Murat stayed nearly a month in this retirement, spending all his timein answering the newspapers which accused him of treason to the Emperor. This accusation was his absorbing idea, a phantom, a spectre to him; dayand night he tried to shake it off, seeking in the difficult position inwhich he had found himself all the reasons which it might offer him foracting as he had acted. Meanwhile the terrible news of the defeat atWaterloo had spread abroad. The Emperor who had exiled him was an exilehimself, and he was waiting at Rochefort, like Murat at Toulon, to hearwhat his enemies would decide against him. No one knows to this day whatinward prompting Napoleon obeyed when, rejecting the counsels of GeneralLallemande and the devotion of Captain Bodin, he preferred England toAmerica, and went like a modern Prometheus to be chained to the rock ofSt. Helena. 

We are going to relate the fortuitous circumstance which led Murat tothe moat of Pizzo, then we will leave it to fatalists to draw from thisstrange story whatever philosophical deduction may please them. We, as humble annalists, can only vouch for the truth of the facts we havealready related and of those which will follow. 

King Louis XVIII remounted his throne, consequently Murat lost all hopeof remaining in France; he felt he was bound to go. His nephew Bonafouxfitted out a frigate for the United States under the name of PrinceRocca Romana. The whole suite went on board, and they began to carry onto the boat all the valuables which the exile had been able to savefrom the shipwreck of his kingdom. First a bag of gold weighing nearly ahundred pounds, a sword-sheath on which were the portraits of the king, the queen, and their children, the deed of the civil estates of hisfamily bound in velvet and adorned with his arms. Murat carried on hisperson a belt where some precious papers were concealed, with about ascore of unmounted diamonds, which he estimated himself to be worth fourmillions. 

When all these preparations for departing were accomplished, it wasagreed that the next day, the 1st of August, at five o'clock, a boatshould fetch the king to the brig from a little bay, ten minutes' walkfrom the house where he was staying. The king spent the night making outa route for M. Marouin by which he could reach the queen, who was thenin Austria, I think. 

It was finished just as it was time to leave, and on crossing thethreshold of the hospitable house where he had found refuge he gaveit to his host, slipped into a volume of a pocket edition of Voltaire. Below the story of 'Micromegas' the king had written: [The volume isstill in the hands of M. Marouin, at Toulon. ]

Reassure yourself, dear Caroline; although unhappy, I am free. I amdeparting, but I do not know whither I am bound. Wherever I may be myheart will be with you and my children. "J. M. "

Ten minutes later Murat and his host were waiting on the beach atBonette for the boat which was to take them out to the ship. 

They waited until midday, and nothing appeared; and yet on the horizonthey could see the brig which was to be his refuge, unable to lie atanchor on account of the depth of water, sailing along the coast at therisk of giving the alarm to the sentinels. 

At midday the king, worn out with fatigue and the heat of the sun, was lying on the beach, when a servant arrived, bringing variousrefreshments, which Madame Marouin, being very uneasy, had sent at allhazards to her husband. The king took a glass of wine and water andate an orange, and got up for a moment to see whether the boat he wasexpecting was nowhere visible on the vastness of the sea. There wasnot a boat in sight, only the brig tossing gracefully on the horizon, impatient to be off, like a horse awaiting its master. 

The king sighed and lay down again on the sand. 

The servant went back to Bonette with a message summoning M. Marouin'sbrother to the beach. He arrived in a few minutes, and almostimmediately afterwards galloped off at full speed to Toulon, in order tofind out from M. Bonafoux why the boat had not been sent to the king. On reaching the captain's house, he found it occupied by an armed force. They were making a search for Murat. 

The messenger at last made his way through the tumult to the personhe was in search of, and he heard that the boat had started at theappointed time, and that it must have gone astray in the creeks ofSaint Louis and Sainte Marguerite. This was, in fact, exactly what hadhappened. 

By five o'clock M. Marouin had reported the news to his brother and theking. It was bad news. The king had no courage left to defend hislife even by flight, he was in a state of prostration which sometimesoverwhelms the strongest of men, incapable of making any plan for hisown safety, and leaving M. Marouin to do the best he could. Just then afisherman was coming into harbour singing. Marouin beckoned to him, andhe came up. 

Marouin began by buying all the man's fish; then, when he had paid himwith a few coins, he let some gold glitter before his eyes, and offeredhim three louis if he would take a passenger to the brig which was lyingoff the Croix-des-Signaux. The fisherman agreed to do it. This chanceof escape gave back Murat all his strength; he got up, embraced Marouin, and begged him to go to the queen with the volume of Voltaire. Then hesprang into the boat, which instantly left the shore. 

It was already some distance from the land when the king stopped the manwho was rowing and signed to Marouin that he had forgotten something. On the beach lay a bag into which Murat had put a magnificent pair ofpistols mounted with silver gilt which the queen had given him, andwhich he set great store on. As soon as he was within hearing he shoutedhis reason for returning to his host. Marouin seized the valise, andwithout waiting for Murat to land he threw it into the boat; the bagflew open, and one of the pistols fell out. The fisherman only glancedonce at the royal weapon, but it was enough to make him notice itsrichness and to arouse his suspicions. Nevertheless, he went on rowingtowards the frigate. M. Marouin seeing him disappear in the distance, left his brother on the beach, and bowing once more to the king, returned to the house to calm his wife's anxieties and to take therepose of which he was in much need. 

Two hours later he was awakened. His house was to be searched in itsturn by soldiers. They searched every nook and corner without finding atrace of the king. Just as they were getting desperate, the brothercame in; Maroum smiled at him; believing the king to be safe, but bythe new-comer's expression he saw that some fresh misfortune was in thewind. In the first moment's respite given him by his visitors he went upto his brother. 

"Well, " he said, "I hope the king is on board?"

"The king is fifty yards away, hidden in the outhouse. "

"Why did he come back?"

"The fisherman pretended he was afraid of a sudden squall, and refusedto take him off to the brig. "

"The scoundrel!"

The soldiers came in again. 

They spent the night in fruitless searching about the house andbuildings; several times they passed within a few steps of the king, and he could hear their threats and imprecations. At last, half an hourbefore dawn, they went away. Marouin watched them go, and when theywere out of sight he ran to the king. He found him lying in a corner, a pistol clutched in each hand. The unhappy man had been overcome byfatigue and had fallen asleep. Marouin hesitated a moment to bring himback to his wandering, tormented life, but there was not a minute tolose. He woke him. 

They went down to the beach at once. A morning mist lay over the sea. They could not see anything two hundred yards ahead. They were obligedto wait. At last the first sunbeams began to pierce this nocturnal mist. It slowly dispersed, gliding over the sea as clouds move in the sky. Theking's hungry eye roved over the tossing waters before him, but he sawnothing, yet he could not banish the hope that somewhere behind thatmoving curtain he would find his refuge. Little by little the horizoncame into view; light wreaths of mist, like smoke, still floated aboutthe surface of the water, and in each of them the king thought herecognised the white sails of his vessel. The last gradually vanished, the sea was revealed in all its immensity, it was deserted. Not daringto delay any longer, the ship had sailed away in the night. 

"So, " said the king, "the die is cast. I will go to Corsica. "

The same day Marshal Brune was assassinated at Avignon. 

II--CORSICA

Once more on the same beach at Bonette, in the same bay where hehad awaited the boat in vain, still attended by his band of faithfulfollowers, we find Murat on the 22nd August in the same year. It was nolonger by Napoleon that he was threatened, it was by Louis XVIII that hewas proscribed; it was no longer the military loyalty of Marshal Brunewho came with tears in his eyes to give notice of the orders he hadreceived, but the ungrateful hatred of M. De Riviere, who had seta price [48, 000 francs. ] on the head of the man who had saved hisown. [Conspiracy of Pichegru. ] M. De Riviere had indeed written to theex-King of Naples advising him to abandon himself to the good faith andhumanity of the King of France, but his vague invitation had not seemedsufficient guarantee to the outlaw, especially on the part of onewho had allowed the assassination almost before his eyes of a man whocarried a safe-conduct signed by himself. Murat knew of the massacre ofthe Mamelukes at Marseilles, the assassination of Brune at Avignon; hehad been warned the day before by the police of Toulon that a formalorder for his arrest was out; thus it was impossible that he shouldremain any longer in France. Corsica, with its hospitable towns, itsfriendly mountains, its impenetrable forests, was hardly fifty leaguesdistant; he must reach Corsica, and wait in its towns, mountains, andforests until the crowned heads of Europe should decide the fate of theman they had called brother for seven years. 

At ten o'clock at, night the king went down to the shore. The boat whichwas to take him across had not reached the rendezvous, but this timethere was not the slightest fear that it would fail; the bay had beenreconnoitred during the day by three men devoted to the fallen fortunesof the king--Messieurs Blancard, Langlade, and Donadieu, all three navalofficers, men of ability and warm heart, who had sworn by their ownlives to convey Murat to Corsica, and who were in fact risking theirlives in order to accomplish their promise. Murat saw the deserted shorewithout uneasiness, indeed this delay afforded him a few more moments ofpatriotic satisfaction. 

On this little patch of land, this strip of sand, the unhappy exileclung to his mother France, for once his foot touched the vessel whichwas to carry him away, his separation from France would be long, if noteternal. He started suddenly amidst these thoughts and sighed: he hadjust perceived a sail gliding over the waves like a phantom through thetransparent darkness of the southern night. Then a sailor's song washeard; Murat recognised the appointed signal, and answered it by burningthe priming of a pistol, and the boat immediately ran inshore; but asshe drew three feet of water, she was obliged to stop ten or twelve feetfrom the beach; two men dashed into the water and reached the beach, while a third remained crouching in the stern-sheets wrapped in hisboat-cloak. 

"Well, my good friends, " said the king, going towards Blancard andLanglade until he felt the waves wet his feet "the moment is come, is itnot? The wind is favourable, the sea calm, we must get to sea. "

"Yes, " answered Langlade, "yes, we must start; and yet perhaps it wouldbe wiser to wait till to-morrow. "

"Why?" asked Murat. 

Langlade did not answer, but turning towards the west, he raised hishand, and according to the habit of sailors, he whistled to call thewind. 

"That's no good, " said Donadieu, who had remained in the boat. "Here arethe first gusts; you will have more than you know what to do with in aminute. . . . Take care, Langlade, take care! Sometimes in calling the windyou wake up a storm. "

Murat started, for he thought that this warning which rose from the seahad been given him by the spirit of the waters; but the impression was apassing one, and he recovered himself in a moment. 

"All the better, " he said; "the more wind we have, the faster we shallgo. "

"Yes, " answered Langlade, "but God knows where it will take us if itgoes on shifting like this. "

"Don't start to-night, sire, " said Blancard, adding his voice to thoseof his two companions. 

"But why not?"

"You see that bank of black cloud there, don't you? Well, at sunset itwas hardly visible, now it covers a good part of the sky, in an hourthere won't be a star to be seen. "

"Are you afraid?" asked Murat. 

"Afraid!" answered Langlade. "Of what? Of the storm? I might as well askif your Majesty is afraid of a cannon-ball. We have demurred solely onyour account, sire; do you think seadogs like ourselves would delay onaccount of the storm?"

"Then let us go!" cried Murat, with a sigh. 

"Good-bye, Marouin. . . . God alone can reward you for what you have donefor me. I am at your orders, gentlemen. "

At these words the two sailors seized the king end hoisted him on totheir shoulders, and carried him into the sea; in another moment he wason board. Langlade and Blancard sprang in behind him. Donadieu remainedat the helm, the two other officers undertook the management of theboat, and began their work by unfurling the sails. Immediately thepinnace seemed to rouse herself like a horse at touch of the spur; thesailors cast a careless glance back, and Murat feeling that they weresailing away, turned towards his host and called for a last time--

"You have your route as far as Trieste. Do not forget my wife!. . . Good-bye-good-bye----!"

"God keep you, sire!" murmured Marouin. 

And for some time, thanks to the white sail which gleamed through thedarkness, he could follow with his eyes the boat which was rapidlydisappearing; at last it vanished altogether. Marouin lingered on theshore, though he could see nothing; then he heard a cry, made faint bythe distance; it was Murat's last adieu to France. 

When M. Marouin was telling me these details one evening on thevery spot where it all happened, though twenty years had passed, heremembered clearly the slightest incidents of the embarkation thatnight. From that moment he assured me that a presentiment of misfortuneseized him; he could not tear himself away from the shore, and severaltimes he longed to call the king back, but, like a man in a dream, heopened his mouth without being able to utter a sound. He was afraid ofbeing thought foolish, and it was not until one o'clock that is, two anda half hours after the departure of the boat-that he went home with asad and heavy heart. 

The adventurous navigators had taken the course from Toulon to Bastia, and at first it seemed to the king that the sailors' predictions werebelied; the wind, instead of getting up, fell little by little, and twohours after the departure the boat was rocking without moving forward orbackward on the waves, which were sinking from moment to moment. Muratsadly watched the phosphorescent furrow trailing behind the little boat:he had nerved himself to face a storm, but not a dead calm, and withouteven interrogating his companions, of whose uneasiness he took noaccount, he lay down in the boat, wrapped in his cloak, closing his eyesas if he were asleep, and following the flow of his thoughts, whichwere far more tumultuous than that of the waters. Soon the two sailors, thinking him asleep, joined the pilot, and sitting down beside the helm, they began to consult together. 

"You were wrong, Langlade, " said Donadieu, "in choosing a craft likethis, which is either too small or else too big; in an open boat we cannever weather a storm, and without oars we can never make any way in acalm. "

"'Fore God! I had no choice. I was obliged to take what I could get, andif it had not been the season for tunny-fishing I might not even havegot this wretched pinnace, or rather I should have had to go into theharbour to find it, and they keep such a sharp lookout that I might wellhave gone in without coming out again. "

"At least it is seaworthy, " said Blancard. 

"Pardieu, you know what nails and planks are when they have been soakedin sea-water for ten years. On any ordinary occasion, a man would rathernot go in her from Marseilles to the Chateau d'If, but on an occasionlike this one would willingly go round the world in a nutshell. "

"Hush!" said Donadieu. The sailors listened; a distant growl was heard, but it was so faint that only the experienced ear of a sailor could havedistinguished it. 

"Yes, yes, " said Langlade, "it is a warning for those who have legs orwings to regain the homes and nests that they ought never to have left. "

"Are we far from the islands?" asked Donadieu quickly. 

"About a mile off. "

"Steer for them. "

"What for?" asked Murat, looking up. 

"To put in there, sire, if we can. "

"No, no, " cried Murat; "I will not land except in Corsica. I will notleave France again. Besides, the sea is calm and the wind is getting upagain--"

"Down with the sails!" shouted Donadieu. Instantly Langlade and Blancardjumped forward to carry out the order. The sail slid down the mast andfell in a heap in the bottom of the boat. 

"What are you doing?" cried Murat. "Do you forget that I am king andthat I command you?"

"Sire, " said Donadieu, "there is a king more powerful than you--God;there is a voice which drowns yours--the voice of the tempest: let ussave your Majesty if possible, and demand nothing more of us. "

Just then a flash of lightning quivered along the horizon, a clap ofthunder nearer than the first one was heard, a light foam appeared onthe surface of the water, and the boat trembled like a living thing. Murat began to understand that danger was approaching, then he gotup smiling, threw his hat behind him, shook back his long hair, andbreathed in the storm like the smell of powder--the soldier was readyfor the battle. 

"Sire, " said Donadieu, "you have seen many a battle, but perhaps youhave never watched a storm if you are curious about it, cling to themast, for you have a fine opportunity now. "

"What ought I to do?" said Murat. "Can I not help you in any way?"

"No, not just now, sire; later you will be useful at the pumps. "

During this dialogue the storm had drawn near; it rushed on thetravellers like a war-horse, breathing out fire and wind through itsnostrils, neighing like thunder, and scattering the foam of the wavesbeneath its feet. 

Donadieu turned the rudder, the boat yielded as if it understood thenecessity for prompt obedience, and presented the poop to the shock ofwind; then the squall passed, leaving the sea quivering, and everythingwas calm again. The storm took breath. 

"Will that gust be all?" asked Murat. 

"No, your Majesty, that was the advance-guard only; the body of the armywill be up directly. "

"And are you not going to prepare for it?" asked the king gaily. 

"What could we do?" said Donadieu. "We have not an inch of canvas tocatch the wind, and as long as we do not make too much water, we shallfloat like a cork. Look out-sire!"

Indeed, a second hurricane was on its way, bringing rain and lightning;it was swifter than the first. Donadieu endeavoured to repeat the samemanoeuvre, but he could not turn before the wind struck the boat, themast bent like a reed; the boat shipped a wave. 

"To the pumps!" cried Donadieu. "Sire, now is the moment to help us--"

Blancard, Langlade, and Murat seized their hats and began to bale outthe boat. The position of the four men was terrible--it lasted threehours. 

At dawn the wind fell, but the sea was still high. They began to feelthe need of food: all the provisions had been spoiled by sea-water, onlythe wine had been preserved from its contact. 

The king took a bottle and swallowed a little wine first, then he passedit to his companions, who drank in their turn: necessity had overcomeetiquette. By chance Langlade had on him a few chocolates, which heoffered to the king. Murat divided them into four equal parts, andforced his companions to take their shares; then, when the meal wasover, they steered for Corsica, but the boat had suffered so much thatit was improbable that it would reach Bastia. 

The whole day passed without making ten miles; the boat was kept underthe jib, as they dared not hoist the mainsail, and the wind was sovariable that much time was lost in humouring its caprices. 

By evening the boat had drawn a considerable amount of water, itpenetrated between the boards, the handkerchiefs of the crew served toplug up the leaks, and night, which was descending in mournful gloom, wrapped them a second time in darkness. Prostrated with fatigue, Muratfell asleep, Blancard and Langlade took their places beside Donadieu, and the three men, who seemed insensible to the calls of sleep andfatigue, watched over his slumbers. 

The night was calm enough apparently, but low grumblings were heard nowand then. 

The three sailors looked at each other strangely and then at the king, who was sleeping at the bottom of the boat, his cloak soaked withsea-water, sleeping as soundly as he had slept on the sands of Egypt orthe snows of Russia. 

Then one of them got up and went to the other end of the boat, whistlingbetween his teeth a Provencal air; then, after examining the sky, the waves; and the boat, he went back to his comrades and sat down, muttering, "Impossible! Except by a miracle, we shall never make theland. "

The night passed through all its phases. At dawn there was a vessel insight. 

"A sail!" cried Donadieu, --"a sail!"

At this cry the king--awoke; and soon a little trading brig hove insight, going from Corsica to Toulon. 

Donadieu steered for the brig, Blancard hoisted enough sail to work theboat, and Langlade ran to the prow and held up the king's cloak on theend of a sort of harpoon. Soon the voyagers perceived that they had beensighted, the brig went about to approach them, and in ten minutes theyfound themselves within fifty yards of it. The captain appeared in thebows. Then the king hailed him and offered him a substantial reward ifhe would receive them on board and take them to Corsica. The captainlistened to the proposal; then immediately turning to the crew, he gavean order in an undertone which Donadieu could not hear, but which heunderstood probably by the gesture, for he instantly gave Langlade andBlancard the order to make away from the schooner. They obeyed with theunquestioning promptitude of sailors; but the king stamped his foot. 

"What are you doing, Donadieu? What are you about? Don't you see thatshe is coming up to us?"

"Yes--upon my soul--so she is. . . . Do as I say, Langlade; ready, Blancard. Yes, she is coming upon us, and perhaps I was too late inseeing this. That's all right--that's all right: my part now. "

Then he forced over the rudder, giving it so violent a jerk that theboat, forced to change her course suddenly, seemed to rear and plungelike a horse struggling against the curb; finally she obeyed. A hugewave, raised by the giant bearing down on the pinnace, carried it onlike a leaf, and the brig passed within a few feet of the stern. 

"Ah!. . . . Traitor!" cried the king, who had only just begun to realisethe intention of the captain. At the same time, he pulled a pistol fromhis belt, crying "Board her! board her!" and tried to fire on the brig, but the powder was wet and would not catch. The king was furious, andwent on shouting "Board her! board her!"

"Yes, the wretch, or rather the imbecile, " said Donadieu, "he took usfor pirates, and wanted to sink us--as if we needed him to do that!"

Indeed, a single glance at the boat showed that she was beginning tomake water. 

The effort--to escape which Donadieu had made had strained the boatterribly, and the water was pouring in by a number of leaks between theplanks; they had to begin again bailing out with their hats, and wenton at it for ten hours. Then for the second time Donadieu heard theconsoling cry, "A sail! a sail!" The king and his companions immediatelyleft off bailing; they hoisted the sails again, and steered for thevessel which was coming towards them, and neglected to fight against thewater, which was rising rapidly. 

From that time forth it was a question of time, of minutes, of seconds;it was a question of reaching the ship before the boat foundered. 

The vessel, however, seemed to understand the desperate position of themen imploring help; she was coming up at full speed. Langlade was thefirst to recognise her; she was a Government felucca plying betweenToulon and Bastia. Langlade was a friend of the captain, and he calledhis name with the penetrating voice of desperation, and he was heard. Itwas high time: the water kept on rising, and the king and his companionswere already up to their knees; the boat groaned in its death-struggle;it stood still, and began to go round and round. 

Just then two or three ropes thrown from the felucca fell upon the boat;the king seized one, sprang forward, and reached the rope-ladder: he wassaved. 

Blancard and Langlade immediately followed. Donadieu waited until thelast, as was his duty, and as he put his foot on the ladder he felt theother boat begin to go under; he turned round with all a sailor's calm, and saw the gulf open its jaws beneath him, and then the shattered boatcapsized, and immediately disappeared. Five seconds more, and the fourmen who were saved would have been lost beyond recall! [These detailsare well known to the people of Toulon, and I have heard them myself ascore of times during the two stays that I made in that town during 1834and 1835. Some of the people who related them had them first-hand fromLanglade and Donadieu themselves. ]

Murat had hardly gained the deck before a man came and fell at his feet:it was a Mameluke whom he had taken to Egypt in former years, andhad since married at Castellamare; business affairs had taken himto Marseilles, where by a miracle he had escaped the massacre of hiscomrades, and in spite of his disguise and fatigue he had recognised hisformer master. 

His exclamations of joy prevented the king from keeping up hisincognito. Then Senator Casabianca, Captain Oletta, a nephew of PrinceBaciocchi, a staff-paymaster called Boerco, who were themselves fleeingfrom the massacres of the South, were all on board the vessel, andimprovising a little court, they greeted the king with the title of"your Majesty. " It had been a sudden embarkation, it brought about aswift change: he was no longer Murat the exile; he was Joachim, the Kingof Naples. The exile's refuge disappeared with the foundered boat; inits place Naples and its magnificent gulf appeared on the horizon like amarvellous mirage, and no doubt the primary idea of the fatal expeditionof Calabria was originated in the first days of exultation whichfollowed those hours of anguish. The king, however, still uncertain ofthe welcome which awaited him in Corsica, took the name of the Count ofCampo Melle, and it was under this name that he landed at Bastia onthe 25th August. But this precaution was useless; three days after hisarrival, not a soul but knew of his presence in the town. 

Crowds gathered at once, and cries of "Long live Joachim!" were heard, and the king, fearing to disturb the public peace, left Bastia the sameevening with his three companions and his Mameluke. Two hours later hearrived at Viscovato, and knocked at the door of General Franceschetti, who had been in his service during his whole reign, and who, leavingNaples at the same time as the king, had gone to Corsica with his wife, to live with his father-in-law, M. Colonna Cicaldi. 

He was in the middle of supper when a servant told him that a strangerwas asking to speak to him--he went out, and found Murat wrapped in amilitary greatcoat, a sailor's cap drawn down on his head, his beardgrown long, and wearing a soldier's trousers, boots, and gaiters. 

The general stood still in amazement; Murat fixed his great dark eyes onhim, and then, folding his arms:--

"Franceschetti, " said he, "have you room at your table for your general, who is hungry? Have you a shelter under your roof for your king, who isan exile?"

Franceschetti looked astonished as he recognised Joachim, and couldonly answer him by falling on his knees and kissing his hand. From thatmoment the general's house was at Murat's disposal. 

The news of the king's arrival had hardly been handed about theneighbourhood before officers of all ranks hastened to Viscovato, veterans who had fought under him, Corsican hunters who were attractedby his adventurous character; in a few days the general's house wasturned into a palace, the village into a royal capital, the island intoa kingdom. 

Strange rumours were heard concerning Murat's intentions. An army ofnine hundred men helped to give them some amount of confirmation. Itwas then that Blancard, Donadieu, and Langlade took leave of him; Muratwished to keep them, but they had been vowed to the rescue of the exile, not to the fortunes of the king. 

We have related how Murat had met one of his former Mamelukes, a mancalled Othello, on board the Bastia mailboat. Othello had followed himto Viscovato, and the ex-King of Naples considered how to make use ofhim. Family relations recalled him naturally to Castellamare, and Muratordered him to return there, entrusting to him letters for personson whose devotion he could depend. Othello started, and reached hisfather-in-law's safely, and thought he could confide in him; but thelatter was horror-struck, and alarmed the police, who made a descent onOthello one night, and seized the letters. 

The next day each man to whom a letter was addressed was arrested andordered to answer Murat as if all was well, and to point out Salerno asthe best place for disembarking: five out of seven were dastards enoughto obey; the two remaining, who were two Spanish brothers, absolutelyrefused; they were thrown into a dungeon. 

However, on the 17th September, Murat left Viscovato; GeneralFranceschetti and several Corsican officers served as escort; he tookthe road to Ajaccio by Cotone, the mountains of Serra and Bosco, Venacoand Vivaro, by the gorges of the forest of Vezzanovo and Bogognone; hewas received and feted like a king everywhere, and at the gates of thetowns he was met by deputations who made him speeches and saluted himwith the title of "Majesty"; at last, on the 23rd September, he arrivedat Ajaccio. The whole population awaited him outside the walls, and hisentry into the town was a triumphal procession; he was taken to theinn which had been fixed upon beforehand by the quartermasters. It wasenough to turn the head of a man less impressionable than Murat; as forhim, he was intoxicated with it. As he went into the inn he held out hishand to Franceschetti. 

"You see, " he said, "what the Neapolitans will do for me by the way theCorsicans receive me. "

It was the first mention which had escaped him of his plans forthe future, and from that very day he began to give orders for hisdeparture. 

They collected ten little feluccas: a Maltese, named Barbara, former captain of a frigate of the Neapolitan navy, was appointedcommander-in-chief of the expedition; two hundred and fifty men wererecruited and ordered to hold themselves in readiness for the firstsignal. 

Murat was only waiting for the answers to Othello's letters: theyarrived on the afternoon of the 28th. Murat invited all his officers toa grand dinner, and ordered double pay and double rations to the men. 

The king was at dessert when the arrival of M. Maceroni was announced tohim: he was the envoy of the foreign powers who brought Murat the answerwhich he had been awaiting so long at Toulon. Murat left the table andwent into another room. M. Maceroni introduced himself as chargedwith an official mission, and handed the king the Emperor of Austria'sultimatum. It was couched in the following terms:

 "Monsieur Maceroni is authorised by these presents to announce to King Joachim that His Majesty the Emperor of Austria will afford him shelter in his States on the following terms:--

 "1. The king is to take a private name. The queen having adopted that of Lipano, it is proposed that the king should do likewise. 

 "2. It will be permitted to the king to choose a town in Bohemia, Moravia, or the Tyrol, as a place of residence. He could even inhabit a country house in one of these same provinces without inconvenience. 

 "3. The king is to give his word of honour to His Imperial and Royal Majesty that he will never leave the States of Austria without the express-permission of the Emperor, and that he is to live like a private gentleman of distinction, but submitting to the laws in force in the States of Austria. 

 "In attestation whereof, and to guard against abuse, the undersigned has received the order of the Emperor to sign the present declaration. 

 "(Signed) PRINCE OF METTERNICH

 "PARIS, 1st Sept. 1815. "

Murat smiled as he finished reading, then he signed to M. Maceroni tofollow him:

He led him on to the terrace of the house, which looked over the wholetown, and over which a banner floated as it might on a royal castle. From thence they could see Ajaccio all gay and illuminated, the portwith its little fleet, and the streets crowded with people, as if itwere a fete-day. 

Hardly had the crowd set eyes on Murat before a universal cry arose, "Long live Joachim, brother of Napoleon! Long live the King of Naples!"

Murat bowed, and the shouts were redoubled, and the garrison band playedthe national airs. 

M. Maceroni did not know how to believe his own eyes and ears. 

When the king had enjoyed his astonishment, he invited him to go down tothe drawing-room. His staff were there, all in full uniform: one mighthave been at Caserte or at Capo di Monte. At last, after a moment'shesitation, Maceroni approached Murat. 

"Sir, " he said, "what is my answer to be to His Majesty the Emperor ofAustria?"

"Sir, " answered Murat, with the lofty dignity which sat so well on hisfine face, "tell my brother Francis what you have seen and heard, andadd that I am setting out this very night to reconquer my kingdom ofNaples. "

III--PIZZO

The letters which had made Murat resolve to leave Corsica had beenbrought to him by a Calabrian named Luidgi. He had presented himselfto the king as the envoy of the Arab, Othello, who had been thrown intoprison in Naples, as we have related, as well as the seven recipients ofthe letters. 

The answers, written by the head of the Neapolitan police, indicatedthe port of Salerno as the best place for Joachim to land; for KingFerdinand had assembled three thousand Austrian troops at that point, not daring to trust the Neapolitan soldiers, who cherished a brilliantand enthusiastic memory of Murat. 

Accordingly the flotilla was directed for the Gulf of Salerno, butwithin sight of the island of Capri a violent storm broke over it, and drove it as far as Paola, a little seaport situated ten miles fromCosenza. Consequently the vessels were anchored for the night of the 5thof October in a little indentation of the coast not worthy of the nameof a roadstead. The king, to remove all suspicion from the coastguardsand the Sicilian scorridori, [Small vessels fitted up as ships-of-war. ]ordered that all lights should be extinguished and that the vesselsshould tack about during the night; but towards one o'clock such aviolent land-wind sprang up that the expedition was driven out to sea, so that on the 6th at dawn the king's vessel was alone. 

During the morning they overhauled Captain Cicconi's felucca, and thetwo ships dropped anchor at four o'clock in sight of Santo-Lucido. Inthe evening the king commanded Ottoviani, a staff officer, to go ashoreand reconnoitre. Luidgi offered to accompany him. Murat accepted hisservices. So Ottoviani and his guide went ashore, whilst Cicconi and hisfelucca put out to sea in search of the rest of the fleet. 

Towards eleven o'clock at night the lieutenant of the watch descrieda man in the waves swimming to the vessel. As soon as he was withinhearing the lieutenant hailed him. The swimmer immediately made himselfknown: it was Luidgi. They put out the boat, and he came on board. Thenhe told them that Ottoviani had been arrested, and he had only escapedhimself by jumping into the sea. Murat's first idea was to go to therescue of Ottoviani; but Luidgi made the king realise the danger anduselessness of such an attempt; nevertheless, Joachim remained agitatedand irresolute until two o'clock in the morning. 

At last he gave the order to put to sea again. During the manoeuvrewhich effected this a sailor fell overboard and disappeared before theyhad time to help him. Decidedly these were ill omens. 

On the morning of the 7th two vessels were in sight. The king gave theorder to prepare for action, but Barbara recognised them as Cicconi'sfelucca and Courrand's lugger, which had joined each other and werekeeping each other company. They hoisted the necessary signals, and thetwo captains brought up their vessels alongside the admiral's. 

While they were deliberating as to what route to follow, a boat came upto Murat's vessel. Captain Pernice was on board with a lieutenant. Theycame to ask the king's permission to board his ship, not wishing toremain on Courrand's, for in their opinion he was a traitor. 

Murat sent to fetch him, and in spite of his protestations he was madeto descend into a boat with fifty men, and the boat was moored to thevessel. The order was carried out at once, and the little squadronadvanced, coasting along the shores of Calabria without losing sight ofthem; but at ten o'clock in the evening, just as they came abreast ofthe Gulf of Santa-Eufemia, Captain Courrand cut the rope which mooredhis boat to the vessel, and rowed away from the fleet. 

Murat had thrown himself on to his bed without undressing; they broughthim the news. 

He rushed up to the deck, and arrived in time to see the boat, whichwas fleeing in the direction of Corsica, grow small and vanish in thedistance. He remained motionless, not uttering a cry, giving no signsof rage; he only sighed and let his head fall on his breast: it was onemore leaf falling from the exhausted tree of his hopes. 

General Franceschetti profited by this hour of discouragement to advisehim not to land in Calabria, and to go direct to Trieste, in order toclaim from Austria the refuge which had been offered. 

The king was going through one of those periods of extreme exhaustion, of mortal depression, when courage quite gives way: he refused flatly atfirst, and there at last agreed to do it. 

Just then the general perceived a sailor lying on some coils of ropes, within hearing of all they said; he interrupted himself, and pointed himout to Murat. 

The latter got up, went to see the man, and recognised Luidgi; overcomewith exhaustion, he had fallen asleep on deck. The king satisfiedhimself that the sleep was genuine, and besides he had full confidencein the man. The conversation, which had been interrupted for a moment, was renewed: it was agreed that without saying anything about the newplans, they would clear Cape Spartivento and enter the Adriatic; thenthe king and the general went below again to the lower deck. 

The next day, the 8th October, they found themselves abreast of Pizzo, when Joachim, questioned by Barbara as to what he proposed to do, gavethe order to steer for Messina. Barbara answered that he was ready toobey, but that they were in need of food and water; consequently heoffered to go on, board Cicconi's vessel and to land with him to getstores. The king agreed; Barbara asked for the passports which he hadreceived from the allied powers, in order, he said, not to be molestedby the local authorities. 

These documents were too important for Murat to consent to part withthem; perhaps the king was beginning to suspect: he refused. Barbarainsisted; Murat ordered him to land without the papers; Barbara flatlyrefused. 

The king, accustomed to being obeyed, raised his riding-whip to strikethe Maltese, but, changing his resolution, he ordered the soldiers toprepare their arms, the officers to put on full uniform; he himselfset the example. The disembarkation was decided upon, and Pizzo was tobecome the Golfe Juan of the new Napoleon. 

Consequently the vessels were steered for land. The king got down intoa boat with twenty-eight soldiers and three servants, amongst whomwas Luidgi. As they drew near the shore General Franceschetti made amovement as if to land, but Murat stopped him. 

"It is for me to land first, " he said, and he sprang on shore. 

He was dressed in a general's coat, white breeches and riding-boots, a belt carrying two pistols, a gold-embroidered hat with a cockadefastened in with a clasp made of fourteen brilliants, and lastly hecarried under his arm the banner round which he hoped to rally hispartisans. The town clock of Pizzo struck ten. Murat went straight up tothe town, from which he was hardly a hundred yards distant. He followedthe wide stone staircase which led up to it. 

It was Sunday. Mass was about to be celebrated, and the whole populationhad assembled in the Great Square when he arrived. No one recognisedhim, and everyone gazed with astonishment at the fine officer. Presentlyhe saw amongst the peasants a former sergeant of his who had served inhis guard at Naples. He walked straight up to him and put his hand onthe man's shoulder. 

"Tavella, " he said, "don't you recognise me?"

But as the man made no answer:

"I am Joachim Murat, I am your king, " he said. "Yours be the honour toshout 'Long live Joachim!' first. "

Murat's suite instantly made the air ring with acclamations, but theCalabrians remained silent, and not one of his comrades took up the cryfor which the king himself had given the signal; on the contrary, a lowmurmur ran through the crowd. Murat well understood this forerunner ofthe storm. 

"Well, " he said to Tavella, "if you won't cry 'Long live Joachim!' youcan at least fetch me a horse, and from sergeant I will promote you tobe captain. "

Tavella walked away without answering, but instead of carrying out theking's behest, went into his house, and did not appear again. 

In the meantime the people were massing together without evincing any ofthe sympathy that the king had hoped for. He felt that he was lost if hedid not act instantly. 

"To Monteleone!" he cried, springing forward towards the road which ledto that town. 

"To Monteleone!" shouted his officers and men, as they followed him. 

And the crowd, persistently silent, opened to let them pass. 

But they had hardly left the square before a great disturbance brokeout. A man named Giorgio Pellegrino came out of his house with a gun andcrossed the square, shouting, "To your arms!"

He knew that Captain Trenta Capelli commanding the Cosenza garrison wasjust then in Pizzo, and he was going to warn him. 

The cry "To arms!" had more effect on the crowd than the cry "Long liveJoachim!"

Every Calabrian possesses a gun, and each one ran to fetch his, and whenTrenta Capelli and Giorgio Pellegrino came back to the square they foundnearly two hundred armed men there. 

They placed themselves at the head of the column, and hastened forwardin pursuit of the king; they came up with him about ten minutes fromthe square, where the bridge is nowadays. Seeing them, Murat stopped andwaited for them. 

Trenta Capelli advanced, sword in hand, towards the king. 

"Sir, " said the latter, "will you exchange your captain's epaulettesfor a general's? Cry 'Long live Joachim!' and follow me with these bravefellows to Monteleone. "

"Sire, " said Trenta Capelli, "we are the faithful subjects of KingFerdinand, and we come to fight you, and not to bear you company. Giveyourself up, if you would prevent bloodshed. "

Murat looked at the captain with an expression which it would beimpossible to describe; then without deigning to answer, he signed toCagelli to move away, while his other hand went to his pistol. GiotgioPellegrino perceived the movement. 

"Down, captain, down!" he cried. The captain obeyed. Immediately abullet whistled over his head and brushed Murat's head. 

"Fire!" commanded Franceschetti. 

"Down with your arms!" cried Murat. 

Waving his handkerchief in his right hand, he made a step towardsthe peasants, but at the same moment a number of shots were fired, anofficer and two or three men fell. In a case like this, when blood hasbegun to flow, there is no stopping it. 

Murat knew this fatal truth, and his course of action was rapidlydecided on. Before him he had five hundred armed men, and behind him aprecipice thirty feet high: he sprang from the jagged rock on whichhe was standing, and alighting on the sand, jumped up safe and sound. General Franceschetti and his aide-de-camp Campana were able toaccomplish the jump in the same way, and all three went rapidly down tothe sea through the little wood which lay within a hundred yards of theshore, and which hid them for a few moments from their enemies. 

As they came out of the wood a fresh discharge greeted them, bulletswhistled round them, but no one was hit, and the three fugitives went ondown to the beach. 

It was only then that the king perceived that the boat which had broughtthem to land had gone off again. The three ships which composed thefleet, far from remaining to guard his landing, were sailing away atfull speed into the open sea. 

The Maltese, Barbara, was going off not only with Murat's fortune, butwith his hopes likewise, his salvation, his very life. They could notbelieve in such treachery, and the king took it for some manoeuvre ofseamanship, and seeing a fishing-boat drawn up on the beach on somenets, he called to his two companions, "Launch that boat!"

They all began to push it down to the sea with the energy of despair, the strength of agony. 

No one had dared to leap from the rock in pursuit of them; theirenemies, forced to make a detour, left them a few moments of liberty. 

But soon shouts were heard: Giorgio Pellegrino, Trenta Capelli, followedby the whole population of Pizzo, rushed out about a hundred and fiftypaces from where Murat, Franceschetti, and Campana were strainingthemselves to make the boat glide down the sand. 

These cries were immediately followed by a volley. Campana fell, with abullet through his heart. 

The boat, however, was launched. Franceschetti sprang into it, Muratwas about to follow, but he had not observed that the spurs of hisriding-boots had caught in the meshes of the net. The boat, yielding tothe push he gave it, glided away, and the king fell head foremost, withhis feet on land and his face in the water. Before he had time to pickhimself up, the populace had fallen on him: in one instant they had tornaway his epaulettes, his banner, and his coat, and would have torn himto bits himself, had not Giorgio Pellegrino and Trenta Capelli taken himunder their protection, and giving him an arm on each side, defendedhim in their turn against the people. Thus he crossed the square as aprisoner where an hour before he had walked as a king. 

His captors took him to the castle: he was pushed into the commonprison, the door was shut upon him, and the king found himself amongthieves and murderers, who, not knowing him, took him for a companion incrime, and greeted him with foul language and hoots of derision. 

A quarter of an hour later the door of the gaol opened and CommanderMattei came in: he found Murat standing with head proudly erect andfolded arms. There was an expression of indefinable loftiness in thishalf-naked man whose face was stained with blood and bespattered withmud. Mattei bowed before him. 

"Commander, " said Murat, recognising his rank by his epaulettes, "lookround you and tell me whether this is a prison for a king. "

Then a strange thing happened: the criminals, who, believing Murat theiraccomplice, had welcomed him with vociferations and laughter, now bentbefore his royal majesty, which had not overawed Pellegrino and TrentaCapelli, and retired silently to the depths of their dungeon. 

Misfortune had invested Murat with a new power. 

Commander Mattei murmured some excuse, and invited Murat to follow himto a room that he had had prepared for him; but before going out, Muratput his hand in his pocket and pulled out a handful of gold and let itfall in a shower in the midst of the gaol. 

"See, " he said, turning towards the prisoners, "it shall not be saidthat you have received a visit from a king, prisoner and crownless as heis, without having received largesse. "

"Long live Joachim!" cried the prisoners. 

Murat smiled bitterly. Those same words repeated by the same number ofvoices an hour before in the public square, instead of resounding in theprison, would have made him King of Naples. 

The most important events proceed sometimes from such mere trifles, thatit seems as if God and the devil must throw dice for the life or deathof men, for the rise or fall of empires. 

Murat followed Commander Mattei: he led him to a little room which theporter had put at his disposal. Mattei was going to retire when Muratcalled him back. 

"Commander, " he said, "I want a scented bath. "

"Sire, it will be difficult to obtain. "

"Here are fifty ducats; let someone buy all the eau de Cologne that canbe obtained. Ah--and let some tailors be sent to me. "

"It will be impossible to find anyone here capable of making anythingbut a peasant's clothes. "

"Send someone to Monteleone to fetch them from there. "

The commander bowed and went out. 

Murat was in his bath when the Lavaliere Alcala was announced, a Generaland Governor of the town. He had sent damask coverlets, curtains, andarm-chairs. Murat was touched by this attention, and it gave him freshcomposure. At two o'clock the same day General Nunziante arrived fromSanta-Tropea with three thousand men. Murat greeted his old acquaintancewith pleasure; but at the first word the king perceived that he wasbefore his judge, and that he had not come for the purpose of making avisit, but to make an official inquiry. 

Murat contented himself with stating that he had been on his way fromCorsica to Trieste with a passport from the Emperor of Austria whenstormy weather and lack of provisions had forced him to put into Pizzo. All other questions Murat met with a stubborn silence; then at least, wearied by his importunity--

"General, " he said, "can you lend me some clothes after my bath?"

The general understood that he could expect no more information, and, bowing to the king, he went out. Ten minutes later, a complete uniformwas brought to Murat; he put it on immediately, asked for a pen and ink, wrote to the commander-in-chief of the Austrian troops at Naples, to theEnglish ambassador, and to his wife, to tell them of his detention atPizzo. These letters written, he got up and paced his room for some timein evident agitation; at last, needing fresh air, he opened the window. There was a view of the very beach where he had been captured. 

Two men were digging a hole in the sand at the foot of the littleredoubt. Murat watched them mechanically. When the two men had finished, they went into a neighbouring house and soon came out, bearing a corpsein their arms. 

The king searched his memory, and indeed it seemed to him that in themidst of that terrible scene he had seen someone fall, but who it was heno longer remembered. The corpse was quite without covering, but by thelong black hair and youthful outlines the king recognised Campana, theaide-decamp he had always loved best. 

This scene, watched from a prison window in the twilight, this solitaryburial on the shore, in the sand, moved Murat more deeply than his ownfate. Great tears filled his eyes and fell silently down the leonineface. At that moment General Nunziante came in and surprised him withoutstretched arms and face bathed with tears. Murat heard him enter andturned round, and seeing the old soldier's surprise. 

"Yes, general, " he said, "I weep; I weep for that boy, just twenty-four, entrusted to me by his parents, whose death I have brought about. I weepfor that vast, brilliant future which is buried in an unknown grave, inan enemy's country, on a hostile shore. Oh, Campana! Campana! if ever Iam king again, I will raise you a royal tomb. "

The general had had dinner served in an adjacent room. Murat followedhim and sat down to table, but he could not eat. The sight which he hadjust witnessed had made him heartbroken, and yet without a line onhis brow that man had been through the battles of Aboukir, Eylau, andMoscow! After dinner, Murat went into his room again, gave his variousletters to General Nunziante, and begged to be left alone. The generalwent away. 

Murat paced round his room several times, walking with long steps, andpausing from time to time before the window, but without opening it. 

At last he overcame a deep reluctance, put his hand on the bolt and drewthe lattice towards him. 

It was a calm, clear night: one could see the whole shore. He looked forCampana's grave. Two dogs scratching the sand showed him the spot. 

The king shut the window violently, and without undressing threw himselfonto his bed. At last, fearing that his agitation would be attributed topersonal alarm, he undressed and went to bed, to sleep, or seem to sleepall night. 

On the morning of the 9th the tailors whom Murat had asked for arrived. He ordered a great many clothes, taking the trouble to explain all thedetails suggested by his fastidious taste. He was thus employed whenGeneral Nunziante came in. He listened sadly to the king's commands. Hehad just received telegraphic despatches ordering him to try the Kingof Naples by court-martial as a public enemy. But he found the kingso confident, so tranquil, almost cheerful indeed, that he had not theheart to announce his trial to him, and took upon himself to delaythe opening of operation until he received written instructions. Thesearrived on the evening of the 12th. They were couched in the followingterms:

 NAPLES, October 9, 1815

 "Ferdinand, by the grace of God, etc. . . . Wills and decrees the following:

 "Art. 1. General Murat is to be tried by court-martial, the members whereof are to be nominated by our Minister of War. 

 "Art. 2. Only half an hour is to be accorded to the condemned for the exercises of religion. 

 "(Signed) FERDINAND. "

Another despatch from the minister contained the names of the members ofthe commission. They were:--

Giuseppe Fosculo, adjutant, commander-in-chief of the staff, president. 

Laffaello Scalfaro, chief of the legion of Lower Calabria. 

Latereo Natali, lieutenant-colonel of the Royal Marines. 

Gennaro Lanzetta, lieutenant-colonel of the Engineers. 

W. T. Captain of Artillery. 

Francois de Venge, ditto. 

Francesco Martellari, lieutenant of Artillery. 

Francesco Froio, lieutenant in the 3rd regiment of the line. 

Giovanni delta Camera, Public Prosecutor to the Criminal Courts of LowerCalabria. 

Francesco Papavassi, registrar. 

The commission assembled that night. 

On the 13th October, at six o'clock in the morning, Captain Stratticame into the king's prison; he was sound asleep. Stratti was going awayagain, when he stumbled against a chair; the noise awoke Murat. 

"What do you want with me, captain?" asked the king. 

Stratti tried to speak, but his voice failed him. 

"Ah ha!" said Murat, "you must have had news from Naples. "

"Yes, sire, " muttered Stratti. 

"What are they?" said Murat. 

"Your trial, sire. "

"And by whose order will sentence be pronounced, if you please? Wherewill they find peers to judge me? If they consider me as a king, I musthave a tribunal of kings; if I am a marshal of France, I must have acourt of marshals; if I am a general, and that is the least I can be, Imust have a jury of generals. "

"Sire, you are declared a public enemy, and as such you are liable to bejudged by court-martial: that is the law which you instituted yourselffor rebels. "

"That law was made for brigands, and not for crowned heads, sir, " saidMurat scornfully. "I am ready; let them butcher me if they like. I didnot think King Ferdinand capable of such an action. "

"Sire, will you not hear the names of your judges?"

"Yes, sir, I will. It must be a curious list. Read it: I am listening. "

Captain Stratti read out the names that we have enumerated. Muratlistened with a disdainful smile. 

"Ah, " he said, as the captain finished, "it seems that every precautionhas been taken. "

"How, sire?"

"Yes. Don't you know that all these men, with the exception of FrancescoFroio, the reporter; owe their promotion to me? They will be afraidof being accused of sparing me out of gratitude, and save one voice, perhaps, the sentence will be unanimous. "

"Sire, suppose you were to appear before the court, to plead your owncause?"

"Silence, sir, silence!" said Murat. "I could, not officially recognisethe judges you have named without tearing too many pages of history. Such tribunal is quite incompetent; I should be disgraced if I appearedbefore it. I know I could not save my life, let me at least preserve myroyal dignity. "

At this moment Lieutenant Francesco Froio came in to interrogate theprisoner, asking his name, his age, and his nationality. Hearing thesequestions, Murat rose with an expression of sublime dignity. 

"I am Joachim Napoleon, King of the Two Sicilies, " he answered, "and Iorder you to leave me. "

The registrar obeyed. 

Then Murat partially dressed himself, and asked Stratti if he couldwrite a farewell to his wife and children. The Captain no longer ableto speak, answered by an affirmative sign; then Joachim sat down to thetable and wrote this letter:

"DEAR CAROLINE OF MY HEART, --The fatal moment has come: I am to sufferthe death penalty. In an hour you will be a widow, our children will befatherless: remember me; never forget my memory. I die innocent; my lifeis taken from me unjustly. 

"Good-bye, Achilles good-bye, Laetitia; goodbye, Lucien; good-bye, Louise. 

"Show yourselves worthy of me; I leave you in a world and in a kingdomfull of my enemies. Show yourselves superior to adversity, and remembernever to think yourselves better than you are, remembering what you havebeen. 

"Farewell. I bless you all. Never curse my memory. Remember that theworst pang of my agony is in dying far from my children, far from mywife, without a friend to close my eyes. Farewell, my own Caroline. Farewell, my children. I send you my blessing, my most tender tears, mylast kisses. Farewell, farewell. Never forget your unhappy father, "Pizzo, Oct. 13, 1815"

[We can guarantee the authenticity of this letter, having copied itourselves at Pizzo, from the Lavaliere Alcala's copy of the original]

Then he cut off a lock of his hair and put it in his letter. Just thenGeneral Nunziante came in; Murat went to him and held out his hand. 

"General, " he said, "you are a father, you are a husband, one day youwill know what it is to part from your wife and sons. Swear to me thatthis letter shall be delivered. "

"On my epaulettes, " said the general, wiping his eyes. [Madame Muratnever received this letter. ]

"Come, come, courage, general, " said Murat; "we are soldiers, we knowhow to face death. One favour--you will let me give the order to fire, will you not?"

The general signed acquiescence: just then the registrar came in withthe king's sentence in his hand. 

Murat guessed what it was. 

"Read, sir, " he said coldly; "I am listening. "

The registrar obeyed. Murat was right. 

The sentence of death had been carried with only one dissentient voice. 

When the reading was finished, the king turned again to Nunziante. 

"General, " he said, "believe that I distinguish in my mind theinstrument which strikes me and the hand that wields that instrument. Ishould never have thought that Ferdinand would have had me shot like adog; he does not hesitate apparently before such infamy. Very well. We will say no more about it. I have challenged my judges, but not myexecutioners. What time have you fixed for my execution?"

"Will you fix it yourself, sir?" said the general. 

Murat pulled out a watch on which there was a portrait of his wife;by chance he turned up the portrait, and not the face of the watch; hegazed at it tenderly. 

"See, general, " he said, showing it to Nunziante; "it is a portrait ofthe queen. You know her; is it not like her?"

The general turned away his head. Murat sighed and put away the watch. 

"Well, sire, " said the registrar, "what time have you fixed?"

"Ah yes, " said Murat, smiling, "I forgot why I took out my watch when Isaw Caroline's portrait. "

Then he looked at his watch again, but this time at its face. 

"Well, it shall be at four o'clock, if you like; it is past threeo'clock. I ask for fifty minutes. Is that too much, sir?"

The registrar bowed and went out. The general was about to follow him. 

"Shall I never see you again, Nunziante?" said Murat. 

"My orders are to be present at your death, sire, but I cannot do it. "

"Very well, general. I will dispense with your presence at the lastmoment, but I should like to say farewell once more and to embrace you. "

"I will be near, sire. "

"Thank you. Now leave me alone. "

"Sire, there are two priests here. "

Murat made an impatient movement. 

"Will you receive them?" continued the general. 

"Yes; bring them in. "

The general went out. A moment later, two priests appeared in thedoorway. One of them was called Francesco Pellegrino, uncle of the manwho had caused the king's death; the other was Don Antonio Masdea. 

"What do you want here?" asked Murat. 

"We come to ask you if you are dying a Christian?"

"I am dying as a soldier. Leave me. "

Don Francesco Pellegrino retired. No doubt he felt ill at ease beforeJoachim. But Antonio Masdea remained at the door. 

"Did you not hear me?" asked the king. 

"Yes, indeed, " answered the old man; "but permit me, sire, to hope thatit was not your last word to me. It is not, the first time that I seeyou or beg something of you. I have already had occasion to ask a favourof you. "

"What was that?"

"When your Majesty came to Pizzo in 1810, I asked you for 25, 000 francsto enable us to finish our church. Your Majesty sent me 40, 000 francs. "

"I must have foreseen that I should be buried there, " said Murat, smiling. 

"Ah, sire, I should like to think that you did not refuse my second boonany more than my first. Sire, I entreat you on my knees. "

The old man fell at Murat's feet. 

"Die as a Christian!"

"That would give you pleasure, then, would it?" said the king. 

"Sire, I would give the few short days remaining to me if God wouldgrant that His Holy Spirit should fall upon you in your last hour. "

"Well, " said Murat, "hear my confession. I accuse myself of having beendisobedient to my parents as a child. Since I reached manhood I havedone nothing to reproach myself with. "

"Sire, will you give me an attestation that you die in the Christianfaith?"

"Certainly, " said Murat. 

And he took a pen and wrote: "I, Joachim Murat, die a Christian, believing in the Holy Catholic Church, Apostolic and Roman. "

He signed it. 

"Now, father, " continued the king, "if you have a third favour to ask ofme, make haste, for in half an hour it will be too late. "

Indeed, the castle clock was striking half-past three. The priest signedthat he had finished. 

"Then leave me alone, " said Murat; and the old man went out. 

Murat paced his room for a few moments, then he sat down on his bed andlet his head fall into his hands. Doubtless, during the quarter of anhour he remained thus absorbed in his thoughts, he saw his whole lifepass before him, from the inn where he had started to the palace he hadreached; no doubt his adventurous career unrolled itself before him likesome golden dream, some brilliant fiction, some tale from the ArabianNights. 

His life gleamed athwart the storm like a rainbow, and like a rainbow's, its two extremities were lost in clouds--the clouds of birth and death. At last he roused himself from this inward contemplation, and lifted apale but tranquil face. Then he went to the glass and arranged his hair. His strange characteristics never left him. The affianced of Death, hewas adorning himself to meet his bride. 

Four o'clock struck. 

Murat went to the door himself and opened it. 

General Nunziante was waiting for him. 

"Thank you, general, " said Murat. "You have kept your word. Kiss me, andgo at once, if you like. "

The general threw himself into the king's arms, weeping, and utterlyunable to speak. 

"Courage, " said Murat. "You see I am calm. " It was this very calmnesswhich broke the general's heart. He dashed out of the corridor, and leftthe castle, running like a madman. 

Then the king walked out into the courtyard. 

Everything was ready for the execution. 

Nine men and a corporal were ranged before the door of the councilchamber. Opposite them was a wall twelve feet high. Three feet away fromthe wall was a stone block: Murat mounted it, thus raising himself abouta foot above the soldiers who were to execute him. Then he took outhis watch, [Madame Murat recovered this watch at the price of 200 Louis]kissed his wife's portrait, and fixing his eyes on it, gave the orderto fire. At the word of command five out of the nine men fired: Muratremained standing. The soldiers had been ashamed to fire on theirking, and had aimed over his head. That moment perhaps displayed mostgloriously the lionlike courage which was Murat's special attribute. His face never changed, he did not move a muscle; only gazing at thesoldiers with an expression of mingled bitterness and gratitude, hesaid:

"Thank you; my friends. Since sooner or later you will be obliged to aimtrue, do not prolong my death-agonies. All I ask you is to aim at theheart and spare the face. Now----"

With the same voice, the same calm, the same expression, he repeated thefatal words one after another, without lagging, without hastening, asif he were giving an accustomed command; but this time, happier than thefirst, at the word "Fire!" he fell pierced by eight bullets, without asigh, without a movement, still holding the watch in his left hand. 

The soldiers took up the body and laid it on the bed where ten minutesbefore he had been sitting, and the captain put a guard at the door. 

In the evening a man presented himself, asking to go into thedeath-chamber: the sentinel refused to let him in, and he demanded aninterview with the governor of the prison. Led before him, he producedan order. The commander read it with surprise and disgust, but afterreading it he led the man to the door where he had been refusedentrance. 

"Pass the Signor Luidgi, " he said to the sentinel. 

Ten minutes had hardly elapsed before he came out again, holding abloodstained handkerchief containing something to which the sentinelcould not give a name. 

An hour later, the carpenter brought the coffin which was to contain theking's remains. The workman entered the room, but instantly called thesentinel in a voice of indescribable terror. 

The sentinel half opened the door to see what had caused the man'spanic. 

The carpenter pointed to a headless corpse!

At the death of King Ferdinand, that, head, preserved in spirits ofwine, was found in a secret cupboard in his bedroom. 

A week after the execution of Pizzo everyone had received his reward:Trenta Capelli was made a colonel, General Nunziante a marquis, andLuidgi died from the effects of poison.