ced again his rule of
incompetency and despotism, reversing the beneficent rule of his two
able predecessors. The old reprobate died on the 4th January, 1825,
having reigned off and on for sixty-five years, largely owing to the
indulgent and costly support of the British Government.

Caroline died on the 7th September, 1814, and to her abiding credit
she condemned the action of the Court of Vienna for severing the bond
of union between the Emperor Napoleon and her granddaughter, Marie
Louise. She declared vehemently that it was the duty of the latter to
break the prohibition by assuming disguise and tie her bed-sheets
together and lower herself out of the window, and make her way
quickly, in face of all obstacles, to where her husband was. Marie
Louise was not a lady of unyielding morals, and at that particular
time her Hapsburg, licentious mind was not centred on the misfortunes
of her husband, but on Neipperg, who was employed to seduce her.
Caroline told Baron Claude Francois de Meneval, Napoleon's private
secretary, that she had reason at one time to dislike the Emperor, but
now that adversity had come to him, she forgot the past.

Had this same spirit of rightness and wisdom been adopted by Marie
Louise's father and his allies, as was so nobly advocated by the
sister of Marie Antoinette, there would have been a clean sheet in
history about them, though it is obvious in many quarters that the
historians have extended all the arts of ambiguity and delusion to
make them appear flawless benefactors. Therefore one has to take all
the circumstances handed down from many varied sources, reliable and
unreliable, and after mature thought form conclusions as one's
judgment may direct as to the merits and demerits of every phase that
is recorded. Hence exhaustive research and long-reasoned views lead me
definitely to the conclusion that there is not much that we can put to
the credit of either their wisdom or humanity. My plain opinion is
that they acted ferociously, and although always in the name of the
Son of God, that can never absolve them from the dark deeds that stand
to their names. Nor is it altogether improbable that all the nations
that were concerned in the dreadful assassination are now paying the
natural penalty of their guilt. Natural laws have a curious roundabout
way of paying back old scores, though the tragic retribution has to be
borne more often than not by the innocent descendants of those who
have, in