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He was born March 25, 1767, at the little village of Bastide Frontonière, then in the province of Perigord, but now in the department of Lot. The father was the keeper of an auberge , or humble country inn; who, having once been steward to the Talleyrands, enjoyed, in some measure, the patronage of that ancient and wealthy family. In his earliest youth, Joachim exhibited signs of that daring spirit which distinguished him above all his contemporaries, Nelson, and Ney excepted, in after life. The exquisitely skilful and fearless horsemanship of the boy was the talk of the neighbourhood. He was the first in every violent exercise -- in every feat of daring. That the parents of so mettled a youth should have so far mistaken, or disregarded, his prevailing bias, as to destine him for the ecclesiastical state, may well surprise us. Perhaps, however, they saw little hope of pushing him on in the army, whereas the influence of the Talleyrands might serve him in the church. Through them, accordingly, he was admitted into the college at Cahors; and thence, after the usual time, he removed to Toulouse to finish his education. But study was more than irksome to Joachim. He had too much vivacity of disposition to pursue what he considered as the dull routine of scholastic learning; and abandoned to more patient minds the prizes which he had neither the wish nor the capability of obtaining. Hence, he was no great favourite with his teachers; but in his view this was amply compensated by the admiration of his fellow-students. This daring, open, generous, passionate libertine was more the object of their regard than if he had evinced the most splendid proofs of genius.

In his twentieth year, the Abbé Murat -- as he was usually designated -- fell in love with a pretty girl of Toulouse, -- fought a duel for her, carried her off, and lived with her in retirement until his little stock of money was exhausted. The éclat which accompanied this adventure for ever put an end to his ecclesiastical expectations -- perhaps he intended it to have this effect. His last sous being spent, he threw off the sacred habit, and enlisted in a regiment of chasseurs, then passing through Toulouse. His personal appearance was greatly improved by the change his martial look, his proud demeanour, his firm, decided step, his stature, equally lofty and noble, were exhibited to the greatest advantage under his new garb. His conduct, however, was so insubordinate, that he was ere long dismissed from the regiment in disgrace. He returned to his native village; but still thirsted after arms, and some time afterwards procured his enrolment into the Constitutional Guard of Louis XVI. He joyfully left his paternal roof a second time, and with his companion, Bessières, afterwards duke of Istria, hastened to Paris.

Here Murat soon distinguished himself as one of the most violent enthusiasts of equality and stern republicanism. These notions he gloried in defending against all who dared to impugn them. His zeal furnished him with perpetual quarrels; and in one month he was known to fight six duels.

Murat, now a major, was of use to Buonaparte in the affair of the Sections; and when the young general was appointed to the command of the army in Italy, he placed him on his personal staff. If ever man possessed an instinct almost infallible in selecting from the mass of human beings such as were best adapted for his tools, it was the Corsican; and in no instance was his choice happier than in this. Among a brilliant staff, none was more distinguished "than the handsome swordsman" ( le beau sabreur ), either for gallantry or bravery. "Honour and the ladies" (honneur et les dames ) was as much engraven on his heart as on his trenchant blade. From this era may be dated the astonishingly rapid rise of his fortunes. Throughout the Italian campaign, Murat was conspicuous in every action; and having well earned the rank of general of brigade, he was chosen by Buonaparte to accompany him on the Egyptian expedition.

But neither he nor many of his companions were prepared for the new kind of warfare which awaited them on the sands of Egypt. So long as legions only were to be routed, or fortresses to be stormed, no one advanced more merrily to the attack; but the harassing assaults of the Mamelukes, who, with the rapidity of the wind, rushed forward or retreated, and the immense extent of desert plain, had something in them that both irritated and dispirited him. He had not that moral force which can bear reverses without repining: he had courage, not fortitude. Death he feared not, and to wounds he was apparently insensible; yet through a strange inconsistency in the human mind, he was overwhelmed by evils of much inferior magnitude, and of very temporary duration. To him there was something in the everlasting silence of the wilderness infinitely more appalling than in the loudest thunder of artillery. Besides, he was wearied, and burning with thirst. Both he and Lannes were seen in the madness of desperation to dash their cockades on the sands, and trample them under foot. It is even said that they were concerned in a plot for returning with the army to Alexandria in spite of Napoleon. But the clouds of Mamelukes or Arabs which appeared from time to time on the boundary of the horizon, and sometimes approached new enough to skirmish, encouraged the invaders to advance, in the hope that by one vigorous effort the conquest of the country might be achieved.

After the decisive battle of Aboukir, in which the Turkish forces were all but annihilated, Joachim, who had headed the horse in the decisive charge, became a greater favourite than ever with his general. He was one of the officers whom Buonaparte resolved to attach at whatever price, to his personal fortunes. He returned with the youthful conqueror to his native land. If the attachment of the latter was founded on a consideration of the services to be performed by the other, that of Murat appears at this period to have been equally disinterested and involuntary. He felt the ascendancy of his chief to be as irresistible as it was unaccountable; and devoted himself with heart and mind to his service. The signal assistance which Murat rendered in the subversion of the Directorial, and the formation of the Consular government, procured him not only the rank of general of division, but the hand of Caroline, the youngest and most ambitious of Napoleon's sisters. In 1808, be accompanied his brother-in-law over the St. Bernard, and shared in all the successes which followed. He concluded a brilliant series of services by commanding the cavalry at the decisive battle of Marengo, which snatched the domination of Italy from Austria, and transferred it to France; for his gallantry on which occasion he was presented with a valuable sword by the consular government.

When Napoleon ascended the imperial throne, he had no better support than in his brother-in-law, who successfully strove to render the innovation popular among the soldiery. This was effected by showering honours on the chiefs, and by promises of still greater favours. His zeal was rewarded, if not beyond his hopes, certainly beyond his deserts. He was successively made general of the first division; commandant of the national guard, with an income of sixty thousand francs; marshal; grand admiral, and prince of the empire, and grand eagle of the Legion of Honour. To invest this daring Hussar with the dignity of grand admiral was ridiculous enough. But the Parisians were still more entertained in seeing a creature of the revolution, who had abandoned the priestly robe for the soldier's uniform -- who had been most active in destroying the pope's power, and who, like Menou, would have assumed the turban, and adored Mahomet, had an order to that effect been issued from head-quarters -- in seeing Prince Murat gravely distribute the blessed bead on Easter Monday to the parishioners of our Lady of Loretto in one of the fauxbourgs of the French capital! Like his imperial master, Joachim was ready to perform in any farce -- if the hire were good; but his affections were fixed on the tragedy of war.

In the campaign of 1805, Murat, by his reckless valour and his amazing success, attracted the admiration of all Europe. The year following he was invested with the Grand Duchy of Berg and Cleves, and acknowledged as a Sovereign Prince by the great continental powers. The Grand Duke had little time to devote to the duties of administration, but in that little he contrived to tender himself popular among his new subjects. He conciliated their affection and respect by a mild spirit of government, and by his deference for existing usages. If he was vain and weak in mind, he was not depraved in heart: so his love of splendour was gratified he cared little about interfering with the old institutions of the district; and we know that the regret of the people was considerable when he left them for the more dazzling, but less solid advantages offered him by the crown of Naples.

In 1808 the grand duke was required to head the army destined to end the domination of the Spanish Bourbons. Accordingly he crossed the Pyrenees, and on the 23d March, (four days after the mysterious abdication of Charles IV.) entered Madrid with a formidable display of force. The prince of the Asturias, in virtue of that abdication become Ferdinand VII., endeavoured to obtain from the French general the recognition of his title. But Murat was too well acquainted with the secret views of the emperor to sanction Ferdinand's wishes. His situation was one of much delicacy, and required qualities which he little possessed -- soundness of judgment, a great power of persuasion over the rival parties, and above all, an evenness of temper not to be ruffled by disappointment or contradiction. He well knew that if he exhibited premature hostility to the claims of the prince -- still more, that if he gave the slightest intimation of Napoleon's intention to subvert the dynasty -- the whole kingdom would simultaneously rise to massacre the invaders. In accordance with his instructions he was therefore compelled to adopt a series of duplicities and treacheries, unexampled, perhaps, in the very worst ages of the world. The grand duke did all he could to persuade the Bourbons to go to Bayonne, and with the aid of Savary, he at length succeeded. At best his notions of right and wrong were loose, his zeal was quickened by the hope that in case the Spanish royal family were persuaded to abdicate, the vacant crown would adorn his own brows. He had already been constituted Lieutenant-general of the kingdom; and continued to exercise all the plenitude of royal power in the manner be considered best adapted to promote his master's interest and his own, which he regarded as inseparable.

But the grand duke used less caution in his proceedings than the importance of the case demanded. His imprudent mien and conversation, coupled with the hasty seizure of the fortresses, and the departure of the king, queen, and Ferdinand, for Bayonne, at last satisfied the Spaniards that the French had entered their country as enemies. They smothered their resentment until the last members of the royal family were forced from Madrid; and then burst forth their long-stifled rage: the population arose with the avowed purpose of exterminating the French, many of whom were slaughtered before a force sufficient to quell the insurrection could be collected. The grand duke inflicted a terrible vengeance; he ordered his soldiers to cut down all the armed inhabitants; but for some time that order was not very easy to execute. The contest was furiously supported on the part of the populace, who fought from street to street, until forced by frequent discharges of grape-shot to seek refuge in the houses. The doors were then broken open, and the struggle even then was horrible. It ended at length through the intervention of the Council of Castile, and of some Spanish nobles who paraded the streets to stop the effusion of blood. The next day a military tribunal was formed under General Grouchy, to pass sentence on such as had excited the insurrection; and after condemnation great numbers of the unfortunate Spaniards were marched away to be shot in cool blood in the Prado, and other public places.

This must ever be deemed the foulest blot on this soldier's memory. These executions were murders, for which no human ingenuity could devise even the shadow of an apology. But they produced an effect little foreseen by Murat: they roused the whole country to determined and immitigable vengeance.

The Spanish crown might not improbably have been conferred on Murat, had his political been at all commensurate with his military talents. But his conduct had been so little guarded, so impolitic, so violent in regard to a people whom it was his chief duty to conciliate, that he was now justly considered by Napoleon as the very last person to whom so great a trust should be confided. Lucien Buonaparte wisely declined it; it was then forced upon Joseph; and Murat received the succession to the throne of Naples.

Joachim Napoleon (the cognomen was adopted in this fashion by all the princes of the imperial family) was received by his new subjects with all the demonstrations of joy characteristic of a change-loving people. Though the Neapolitans are the most cowardly perhaps of nations, they can admire bravery in others; hence a great portion of their delight at being transferred to the rule of one whose fame in war was so eminent. The favourable impression was deepened by the noble person, splendid costume, and military frankness of their new sovereign.

One of the king's first acts was not calculated to lessen his popularity. It was to drive the Anglo-Sicilian garrison from the (so deemed) impregnable little island of Capri, which lay within sight of his palace. The defence made by the governor, Sir Hudson Lowe, is spoken of contemptuously by all the French writers; but we must not hastily believe them on this subject. Another measure, still more welcome, was the abolition of arbitrary imprisonments, and the suppression of the extraordinary, that is, arbitrary tribunals. But Murat's chief care was to increase the numbers and improve the condition of his Neapolitan troops. He raised them from 16,000 to more than 60,000; but to make cowards warriors lay beyond his power. An attempt on the island of Sicily, -- partly, perhaps, for reasons not hitherto explained, but chiefly from his own rash temper and the cowardice of his troops, proved unsuccessful. This disappointment soured his temper; nor was it likely to be sweetened by a circumstance, to the meaning of which he could no longer be blind. He could not procure the recall of the 20,000 French who held military possession of the country. His very ministers were in the interest of Napoleon. This high-spirited man took fire, and in the first fury of his rage would perhaps have been mad enough to declare war against France, had he not been restrained by the counsels of his queen. He now, however, bent all his anxiety to winning the love of his subjects; but though he to a great extent succeeded in this, it availed him nothing. He soon found that they were insensible to national honour,--degraded in every view, and fit for nothing but slavery.

The king, perceiving that he could neither dismiss his foreign masters, nor find in his own subjects any defence against the imperious will of Napoleon, now retired to his palace of Capo-di-Monte, where the bitterness of his feelings brought on a severe illness. His malady exasperated his rage; he abused his ministers, his queen, his oldest servants that approached him. Instead of removing, many about him thought it their interest to fortify his suspicions: he passed the whole day in perusing the reports of his secret agents of police, or in listening to delators. He was even so forgetful of common prudence, -- to say nothing of dignity, -- as to make confidents of the vilest spies, who were not backward in boasting of his favour. This behaviour, at once mean and weak, lowered his popularity. He was also capable, while under the dominion of these fitful humors, of playing the capricious despot: the benefit which he awarded to-day, he might recall on the morrow.

It is impossible to say how far the breach might have extended, had not Napoleon looked forward to the terrible struggle of 1812. Perhaps Murat, like Louis of Holland, might have been so annoyed with intolerable vexations as to prefer a private life to the mortification of wielding a powerless sceptre: perhaps a mere decree in the Moniteur might have reduced him to his original nothingness. But in so desperate a contest as Napoleon foresaw he could ill dispense with the services of him whom he had truly called "his right hand," and "the best cavalry officer in the world." Many who were aware of the misunderstanding between them, and how wholly the resources of France, immense as these were, must be absorbed by the peninsular war and the projected expedition, expected that Joachim would disregard the imperial summons, and thus attempt to free himself for ever from, his subjection. Others, however, who were better acquainted with his martial inclinations, -- the impatience with which he had borne near four years of (to him) inglorious peace, -- and above all, with the ascendancy which the emperor held over his spirit, little doubted what course he would adopt. Joachim joined Napoleon at Dresden with 10,000 of his best troops, and was immediately placed over the whole cavalry of the grand army.

He was the most active of the French generals in the pursuit of the various corps of the Russian army as these retreated through Poland and Lithuania. On the arrival of the French at Smolensko, he opposed the project of an attack on that city, on the ground that, as it was about to be abandoned by the Russians, there could be no use in risking lives to reduce it. He went on -- and condemned plainly the imprudence of proceeding farther at so late a season of the year. What the reply of Napoleon was, no one has recorded, but it stung the brave soldier to the quick. "A march to Moscow (cried Murat) will be the destruction of the army;" and having said so, be furiously spurred his horse towards the side of the river which a Russian battery on the opposite bank swept of all who dared approach. Here for some time he stood immoveable, like one resolved to die, and waiting for the ball which should despatch him. He ordered his officers to withdraw, and all obeyed except Belliard. "Every one is master of his own life (said this general): as you majesty appears resolved to dispose of yours, I must be permitted to die at your side." This devoted fidelity at length prevailed on him to retire from his perilous situation.

The desperate action of Valontina exhibited a striking instance of the ascendant held by the king of Naples over the troops. He had ordered Junot to traverse a wood and marsh which lay on the flank of the Russians, and attack them, while be vigorously pressed them in front. As he was charging them with his wonted fury, be was surprised to find that the projected diversion had not been effected. He galloped almost unattended towards the position which Junot still occupied, and censured that officer's inactivity. The general answered, that he could not prevail on the Westphalian cavalry to advance in the face of such perils. Without uttering another word, the king placed himself at their head, urged them along, charged and routed the Russian sharpshooters: then turning to Junot he coolly observed, "There -- thy marshal's baton is half earned for thee -- do the rest thyself!"

After this action, the corps of Ney was too exhausted to remain longer in the van, and it was replaced by that of Davoust. The king had soon reason to regret the loss of his former associate, whose courage was boiling as his own. Davoust was methodical, cautious, and consequently unwilling to join in what he conceived to be the desperate measures of Murat. This want of harmony between them ultimately ended in deep resentment, which neither could always smother. On one occasion it broke out in the presence of the emperor. The king bitterly upbraided Davoust for a caution which he termed more ruinous than the wildest daring; complained how inadequately he was supported in his most important movements; -- and, in fine, intimated his readiness to settle the dispute at a private meeting, so that the army might not suffer from their contentions. The other retorted by censuring the rashness of Murat, who, he said, was lavishly wasting both the ammunition and lives of the soldiers. "Let the king of Naples," he added, "do what he pleases with the cavalry, but so long as the first corps of infantry is under my orders, its safety shall not be compromised without need." The emperor , without giving any decision, endeavoured to reconcile them by extolling the services of both; and earnestly exhorted them to a better understanding in the future. But unfortunately his words had little effect when the rival chiefs were not under his immediate eye.

It was said of Murat by Napoleon, that when he advanced to the charge, he resembled a paladin of old more than a modern soldier. In his costume he imitated the ancient knights; his noble port shewed majestically under the chivalric garb; add to this his more than mortal daring, and we shall not wonder that the very Cossacks raised a shout of admiration when he approached them. A striking example of is occurred, September 4th. The king with a few squadrons had left Giatz, followed at some distance by the Grand Army; in his march he was much annoyed by clouds of Cossacks, who hovered about the heads of his columns, and from time to time compelled them to deploy. This troublesome series of interruptions at length incensed him to such a degree, that he galloped up to them unattended, and, in an authoritative voice, cried out: " Clear the way, vermin! " It is a fact equally extraordinary and incontestable, that these wild sons of the desert were so awed by his manner, as involuntarily to obey the command; nor did they again block up the way during the whole of that day's march.

At length the French army reached the heights which overlook Moscow. Glancing at his soiled garments the king did not think them worthy of an occasion so important as that of entering the Sacred City. He retired to his tent, stripped, and soon came out arrayed in the most magnificent of his costumes. His tall plume, seen over everything, the splendid trapping of his steed, and the inimitable grace with which he managed the high-spirited animal, as he advanced towards the Cossacks who were under the walls of the City, produced a loud peal of applause from those wild warriors. As an armistice had been agreed on during the evacuation of the city by the Russian rear, he remained for two hours in the midst of his new admirers, who called him their hetman , and pressed round him with tumultuous enthusiasm. His vanity was so much gratified with the homage of these children of the wilderness that he distributed among them first all the money he had about him, then all he could borrow from the officers of his staff, and lastly both his own watch and those of his companions.

When Napoleon abandoned the retreating army at Smorgoni, Murat was left in command; but his moral courage appeared to have fled with success: he was unequal to the duties of so trying a situation. When the wretched, worn-out remnant of the Grand Army was near Posen, an officer just arrived from Naples sought a private interview with the king. What passed between them has never transpired. It has been said that the messenger delivered him a letter, acquainting him with the queen's projected usurpation of his authority. Letters also reached him from Napoleon, full of reproaches for the errors he had recently committed. Irritated at the reverses of the army, at what he called the ingratitude of the emperor, at his own want of influence, over the generals, and most of all, probably, by the intelligence he had just received from Naples, Murat hastily quitted the fugitives on January the 17th, 1813, and was succeeded in the chief command by the Viceroy Eugene. He travelled day and night on his return to Naples.

Whatever were the motives which induced him to abandon his charge, the step itself drew forth strong expressions of indignation and contempt from the emperor. In a letter to his sister the queen, he says: "So the king has forsaken the army! Your husband is a very brave man in the field of battle, but when the enemy is not present, he is weaker than a woman or even a monk. He has no moral courage." And in another to Murat, January 26, he remarks: "I am unwilling to speak of my dissatisfaction with your conduct ever since my own departure from the army; it is the necessary result of your feebleness of character. You are a good soldier in the field, but out of it you have neither strength nor character. I suppose you are not one of those who think the lion is dead. If you do, you will find yourself woefully deceived!"

Murat's resentment at this language did not, however, prevent his joining Napoleon in the Saxon campaign; there was still a possibility at least that the emperor might ultimately triumph. He fought nobly at Dresden and Leipsic, but soon after the terrible issue of the last-mentioned battle precipitately abandoned the cause of his brother-in-law at Erfurt.

For some time after his return to Naples the king assumed no open or decided part. He secretly negotiated with the Austrians, and augmented his army, but gave no intimation of his ulterior objects. At length on the 11th January, 1814, Count Neupperg, the Austrian emperor's agent, concluded, in that sovereign's name, a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with Murat. By that treaty Austria recognised his right to the dignity he held, and he engaged to furnish thirty thousand troops in furtherance of the common measures against his imperial relative; and without even waiting for the ratification from Vienna, Murat at once assumed the offensive against Prince Eugene, marched southward, and seized on Ancona and Bologna.

Though this warfare was one chiefly of manifestos, it completely put an end to French influence in Italy; and accordingly, upon the abdication of Buonaparte, Murat looked forward to his own recognition by the Congress at Vienna. But he was regarded with little favour by that august body. As has been said of Talleyrand, Joachim had acted by his friends as if they might shortly be his enemies, and to his enemies as if they might soon become his friends. Austria, however, really wished to acknowledge his kingly character, and England was prepared to do the same, though with more reluctance: both powers feeling that, after the negotiations concluded with him, less was inconsistent with honour. The measure, however, was forcibly opposed by Talleyrand, on the part of Louis XVIII. That able minister contended, that to have a creature of Napoleon on a throne so important as that of Naples, must be injurious to the security of the neighbouring states, and might be so to the general tranquillity. While the king was awaiting the result with anxiety, and probably fearing the reports of General Nugent slid Lord W. Bentinek, who were acquainted with the hollow interest he had taken in the common cause, Napoleon escaped from Elba, and triumphantly returned to the French capital. Murat, with the thoughtless precipitation which characterised him through life instantly put an army of 50,000 men in motion, and advanced on Tuscany. In his proclamation of March 31st, 1815, he exhorted all Italians to arm for the independence of their country -- for the destruction of all foreign influence over them. The idea of rescuing the entire soil of Italy from external domination, and of uniting all the states into one powerful kingdom, was magnificent: such an attempt would have been worthy the genius and power of a Napoleon; but Joachim was never meant for things of this order. Priests and nobles fled everywhere at his approach; and the self-styled emancipator of Italy was joined by none but a few of the rabble, and a handful of brainless enthusiasts. The Austrians and the English assailed him at the same time, and compelled him to fall back towards his own kingdom. Most of the men composing his royal guard, with the second and third divisions of his regular troops, forthwith disbanded themselves and went home. The combats (if indeed they deserved such a name) of Capraro, Ponte-Corvo, Mignano, and San Germano, consummated the ruin. Seeing that all hopes of resistance were vain, and that the enemy were resolved not to treat with him, Joachim quitted his wretched remnant of an army, and returned incognito to his capital, which he entered May 18th. As he embraced his queen, he exclaimed with emotion, "All is lost, Caroline, except my own life, which I have been unable to throw away!" Thus ended one of the most rashly projected and wretchedly conducted of campaigns.

During the king's short stay in the capital, the public tranquillity was as undisturbed as if no enemy had been marching against it. He tried to rouse the Neapolitans to some uncommon exertion in his behalf by promising them a constitutional system as liberal as the wildest Carbonaro could have desired: -- but the bait did not take; -- the people remained as silent and as sullen as before; and on the evening of the following day, Joachim (with a few attendants -- all in disguise) left Naples, and sailed for Ischia. While here be heard of the capitulation of the remnant of his army which he had intrusted to Carascosa; that in their articles not one word had been inserted in favour of himself: in brief, that Ferdinand had been acknowledged with as little ceremony as if no Joachim were in existence. Thus betrayed on all sides, he resolved to sail for France, and throw himself on the generosity of Buonaparte. He landed at Cannes on the 25th, and despatched a courier to acquaint the emperor th his arrival. All the reply he received was a cold recommendation " to remain where he was until he was wanted." Joachim burst forth into furious invectives against the ungrateful Corsican, for whom, he said, he had lost his army and his crown: language which certainly confirms the opinion of the allied powers that there had been some understanding between the two, though each had been too selfish to care sincerely about any thing beyond his own advantage. On reflection, the ex-king appears to have satisfied himself that the anger of the emperor was but assumed, and that he should soon be called to Paris. To be within easier reach, therefore, of Napoleon's government, he set out for Lyons, June 25th, meaning to await in that city an improvement in his prospects. But while changing horses at Aubagne, new Marseilles, Joachim learned the disasters of Waterloo; and on this, hastily retracing his steps, he returned to the house he had before occupied in the neighbourhood of Toulon.

The situation of the fugitive, after the second abdication of the emperor, became hourly more critical. He wished to visit Paris for the purpose of seeing personally the allied sovereigns, but the roads leading into the interior were closed to one who was considered as the ally of the fallen usurper. Though Toulon still held out, there was little doubt that it also must soon re-acknowledge the authority of Louis, and, in consequence, cease to be an asylum for him. He thought of escaping to England; but though Lord Exmouth would willingly have received him on board, that admiral would not answer for the measures which the allies might adopt respecting him. He next applied, through Fouché, for permission to settle in Austria; and the Emperor Francis generously agreed to receive him, on condition of his laying aside the royal title. Murat instantly despatched a messenger to say that he accepted the condition, and that he waited for the necessary passports.

The ex-king now thought his plans for the future finally arranged, but fortune had ordered far otherwise. While he lay in a little village, quietly expecting the arrival of the passports, he was alarmed by the intelligence that a band of men had left Marseilles with the resolution of taking him dead or alive, and thereby earning the large sum set on his head by the Bourbon government. He instantly fled, attended by a single valet, to a lonely retreat a few miles from Toulon, and near the borders of the sea. Every night some one of his friends privately left Toulon (now in the power of Louis) to acquaint him with what was passing in the world. The burden of their tale was ever the imminent risk of his detection, as well as of the safety of his few devoted adherents being com-promised. If he could reach Paris all would be well; for there the allies would readily treat with him. To proceed by land was fraught with danger: it was at last settled that he should go by sea, in a vessel bound for Havre; and as he could not embark at Toulon, it was agreed that the vessel should take him up by night on a solitary part of the coast.

At night-fall (August 12) he left his retreat, and hastened to the coast. About the same time the captain, with whom he was to sail, left his vessel, and proceeded in a boat to the appointed spot. But fortune seemed to delight in persecuting the fugitive. After he and the seaman had vainly sought each other during a considerable portion of the night, the sea began to swell so much as to endanger the frail boat, and the captain, relinquishing all hope of seeing the ex-king, reluctantly returned to his vessel. In the mean time the latter traversed the sandy beach, vainly endeavouring to send his voice to the mariners who were seeking him: it was answered only by the howling of the wind, or the dashing of the waves. At length dawn appeared, and he perceived the ship out at sea. To remain longer on the beach was perilous: he fled into the woods, and for two days remained there without nourishment or rest. His garments were drenched with rain, and he was exhausted with hunger and lassitude. He perceived a solitary cabin -- he knocked, and was welcomed by an old woman to such humble fare as was in her power to offer. He gave himself out as belonging to the garrison of Toulon; that he had lost his way, and stood in need of refreshment and repose.

While the wanderer was devouring the eggs which the good woman had prepared for him, the owner of the cabin entered; he was a French soldier from the garrison of Toulon! The old man welcomed him with as much cordiality as his wife had done, but watched him more intently. His whole appearance, his manners, his evident wish to escape observation, struck the veteran; who at last remembered having seen similar features on certain coin. The truth flashed on him; he arose -- not to betray his guest -- but to fall at the wanderer's feet, to swear fidelity, to offer his services and his life in behalf of the exile. The old woman, in her sudden agitation, dropped the kitchen utensil she held in her hand, and followed his example; and Murat, deeply affected with their behaviour, raised, embraced, and blessed them both.

One night the ever-watchful dame perceived the light of a lantern approaching her cabin. Alarmed for the safety of her guest, she instantly awoke him, concealed him in a hole outside the dwelling, and covered him with vine-branches. She returned to the bed he had just left, arranged the covering as if no one had lain under it, and was undressing herself when a loud knock was heard at the door, and in rushed about sixty gensdarmes, who, after ransacking the hut, spreading themselves among the vines, and passing several times close by his hiding-place, at length departed to renew the search in other places.

The hunted recluse felt too much for his hosts to compromise their safety by remaining longer where he was. His friends at Toulon were made acquainted with his wishes through the soldier, and hired a skiff to convey him to Corsica. On the evening of the 22d of August he embarked on a lonely part of the beach, and, attended by three faithful adherents, sailed for that island. A high wind arose, the sea swelled, and the destruction of the frail vessel seemed inevitable. This was not the only danger: at day-break they fell in with a trader plying between Corsica and France; they hailed the captain, and offered him a considerable sum if be would receive them on board, and convey them to the island; but be, probably, taking them for pirates, not only disregarded their proposal, but strove to run them down. They at last fell in with the packet-boat from Toulon to Bastia; and were readily received on board. No sooner had they left their skiff than it sank, -- as if fortune was pleased in multiplying the dangers of the fugitive for the mere purpose of extricating him from them.

The reception of Murat by the Corsicans was most hospitable. Some officers of the garrison, indeed, were not disinclined to seize him, and deliver him up to the French government; but so devoted were the inhabitants to the near relation of their illustrious countryman -- that the bare attempt would have led to an insurrection. He was enthusiastically cheered whenever he appeared in public, and crowds assembled before his house to greet him with their acclamations. But it had been well for him if he never had heard them: they awakened within him a train of feeling which led him to his ruin. "If," said he, "this people, to whom I am a stranger, receive me with such joy, what may I not expect from my own subjects? The latter were accustomed to applaud me as warmly whenever I returned after a short absence to my capital." He was confirmed in this dangerous impression by the reports of several persons recently arrived from Naples, who represented the whole population of the kingdom as discontented with the existing government; and, after some hesitation, Murat resolved on the hazardous experiment of once more appearing among his Neapolitans.

It has been supposed that the government of Ferdinand employed agents to inveigle this weak, credulous, but daring man, into a snare deliberately laid for him. This, however, is a charge so monstrous that it ought not to be received without strong evidence. The ex-king's characteristic rashness, and the successful example recently set him by his imperial relation, may have been sufficient to prompt him. He was braver than Napoleon, and he believed himself both as able and as popular as he.

With some difficulty the ex-king had raised from thirty to forty thousand francs, hired six brigs, and enrolled about two hundred men for the expedition, when the necessary passports arrived for his passage to Austria. The conditions were in the hand-writing of Metternich, and as favourable as he could have desired. He had only to lay aside his kingly title, to promise obedience to the laws, and engage never to leave Austria without the emperor's permission. In return he might assume the title of count, and retire with his family (which had escaped into Austria) to any part of Bohemia, Moravia, or Upper Austria; he might inhabit town or country, and live in the splendour becoming his rank. His friends urged him to be contented with this, and relinquish his mad undertaking; -- but he declared that the die was cast -- that he would descend on the Calabrian coast. Accordingly, on the evening of September 28th, he embarked at Ajaccio to pursue the conquest of his kingdom. The garrison of the port were aware of his design, and might have prevented the embarkation; but Joachim was so popular among the soldiers that not a shot was fired after him till the vessels were beyond the range of the guns: then, in compliance with the suggestion of the commandant, who informed them that it was necessary to make some sort of demonstration to lull the suspicions of the French government, they fired "long and loudly." This was enough: it enabled the officer to make a satisfactory report of the zeal testified by the garrison in the service of his Most Christian Majesty.

The naval commander of the expedition was one Barbara, who owed every thing in life to the ex-king, and who was in consequence considered worthy of implicit confidence.

The little squadron was retarded by contrary winds, and did not arrive in sight of Calabria before the evening of October 6th. That night the vessels were dispersed in a heavy gale, and at day break the king's was the only one which stood off the coast. But in the course of the morning it was joined by another, and not long after by a third. One of his officers proposed that the three should double the promontory of Paolo, where they would most likely have fallen in with the rest; but the proposal was over-ruled by Barbara, on the ground that they would run a risk of being intercepted by the Sicilian cruizers: nor, un-fortunately, was this the only traitor. When night came, and Murat had given orders for the barks to proceed towards Amantea, one of the three captains quietly slipped away, and sailed back to Corsica with fifty of the best soldiers.

When daylight appeared, and this vessel was missing, his few faithful followers seized the favourable opportunity, and urged Murat to sail for Trieste, and claim the hospitality of the Austrian. To their great joy he assented; ordered a bag, containing five hundred copies of the proclamation he had intended for the Neapolitans to be thrown into the sea; and directed Barbara to steer for the Adriatic. The latter objected his want of water and provisions for so long a voyage, and offered to procure them at Pizzo, which was then in sight. This was assented to, but just as he was departing, he requested that he might be furnished with the passports, in case the authorities of the port should attempt to detain him. This strange demand awakened, as well it might, the suspicions of Murat. In vain did he labour to convince the wretch, that the passports could only lead to the discovery of the voyagers: the traitor persisted in refusing to go on shore without them. His object in wishing to secure them was probably to deliver them up to the authorities of Pizzo; so that when the fugitive was captured and put to death, their existence might safely have been denied. Whether the intended victim suspected this, or whether he resolved to try what effect the attempt might produce, he suddenly asserted his determination to go on shore himself! There was such downright madness in the thing, that his attendants would have been justified in confining him to the cabin, until the necessary provisions were procured, and the vessels far on their way to Trieste. His mind -- never very firm -- was now in a high state of excitement and agitation. They saw he was resolute, however, and they insisted on accompanying him, and on sharing any fate that might befall him. He ordered them to appear in full uniform; and at the same time directed the captain to keep close in shore, so as to be ready to receive them, in case they were compelled to re-embark.

It was about mid-day on Sunday, the 8th of October, that he set his foot on the beach -- being followed by twenty-eight soldiers (including officers), and three domestics. Some mariners recognized him, and shouted " Joachim for ever! " A few idle spectators joined the little band, as it proceeded towards the great square of Pizzo, where the soldiers of the district were then assembled to exercise. The ex-king considered this a fortunate circumstance: like a greater man in a similar situation, he boldly approached them, while his followers unfurled his standard, shouting " King Joachim for ever! " But the cry was repeated only by one peasant. The soldiers readily recognized his person, but preserved an obstinate silence.

One would have thought this example sufficient; yet he would continue his way to Monte-Leone, the capital of the province -- conduct which can only be explained by a temporary aberration of mind. The road from Pizzo to Monte-Leone is rugged, precipitous, and difficult; and the little party had not made much progress, before they were pursued by one Trenta-Capilli, a captain of gensdarmes, who headed a number of his men, and some other adherents of the place. (Joachim had never been a favourite with Pizzo, the trade of which he was accused of having injured.) By paths known only to themselves, some of their body gained the advance of the party, while the rest followed: thus were the adventurers placed between two fires. Murat, still in the hope of making a favourable impression, now advanced towards his assailants, and hailed them: the only answer was a shower of balls. One of his officers was killed, another wounded; but he would not suffer his companions to return the fire. His situation was desperate: he saw that his only chance of safety was by reaching the sea; and, leaping from rock to rock, from precipice to precipice, while the shot whistled around him, he at length reached the beach. The treachery of Barbara could no longer be doubted: both vessels were at a considerable distance from the shore, indifferent spectators of his danger! A fishing-boat lay on the beach: he endeavoured to push it into the water; but was unequal to the effort. Some of his companions now joined him, but before they could embark, all were surrounded by the infuriate mob. Resistance was evidently vain: he surrendered his sword, begging only that his brave followers might be spared. But he spoke to the deaf: some of those faithful men were cut down at their master's side; the rest were hurried away with him, and cast into the same prison. Here the gensdarmes searched him; and after depriving him of his money, his jewels, his letters of credit, they, unfortunately for him, found on his person a copy of his proclamation, which he had taken from one of his officers, and which he had imprudently neglected to destroy.

Joachim spent a few hours amidst his companions, most of whom were wounded, in a manner highly honourable to his heart -- labouring to console them -- as if he had no sorrows of his own. But he was soon removed from the common room, into one more private, and more suited to his past dignity; and there waited on by the General Nunziante, whose duty it was to interrogate him officially as to his disembarkation at Pizzo. The conduct of this officer was honourable and delicate: he knew how to combine fidelity to his master with a deep sympathy for the fallen.

One of the ex-king's first steps was to write to the Austrian and English ambassadors, then at Naples, to interest them in his behalf. The letters were detained by the Neapolitan government until the writer was no more.

Orders now reached Pizzo to try General Murat as an enemy to the public peace, not by a civil tribunal, but by a military commission. This order was of course equivalent to a condemnation. Nunziante was unwilling to believe that such a measure would be persisted in, and suspended the proceedings until the commands of the court should be more fully known. On the evening of the 12th, however, his worst fears were confirmed: the members of the commission arrived, and brought with them a royal decree, which allowed the prisoner only half an hour after the sentence should be pronounced. The breathless haste of the ministers is not difficult to be explained: they no doubt either feared an insurrection of the people in his favour, or that if the foreign ambassadors heard of his detention, the accomplishment of their purpose might be thwarted.

It would be ridiculous to treat of such a trial as falling within any ordinary rules; but certainly the licence was pushed far in this case, for not one of the members of the commission was competent, under the existing law of Naples, to sit in judgment on an officer of the rank conceded to General Murat. They were eight in number -- one adjutant-general, one colonel-commandant, two lieutenant-colonels, two captains, and two lieutenants; nor is it much to the credit of those officers that most of them had been indebted for their commissions to him of whose destruction they were the instruments.

Joachim declined the competency of the court -- first as a sovereign prince, next as a marshal of France. He said to his advocate: -- "This tribunal is every way incompetent, and so contemptible, that I should be ashamed to appear before it. You cannot save my life, but you will allow me to save the royal dignity. The end in view is not justice, but condemnation: the members of the commission are not my judges, but my executioners. Speak not in my defence, I command you." But remonstrance and protests were vain: the commission sat, and proceeded.

In this last painful scene Murat behaved with more dignity than might have been expected. When, according to usage, the tribunal despatched one of their body to ask his name, age, country &c., he hastily cut short the vain formula: "I am Joachim Napoleon, King of the Two Sicilies: begone, Sir!" He afterwards conversed with perfect coolness and evident satisfaction of all that he had done for his kingdom. He said, and said truly, that for whatever there was of good in the system of administration, the Neapolitans were indebted to him. He then briefly adverted to his present situation. "I had expected (said he), to find in Ferdinand a more humane and generous enemy: I would have acted very differently had our situations been reserved."

While Murat was thus speaking to the officers around him, -- all of whom addressed him by his kingly title, and otherwise treated him with great respect, -- the door opened, and one of the commissioners entered to read the sentence: he heard it unmoved. He then requested to see his companions, -- this was refused; but permission was given him to write to his wife. His letter was affectionate and affecting; he inclosed in it a lock of his hair, and delivered it unsealed to Captain Stratti -- another gentleman in the service of the reigning king, who exhibited the same honourable feeling as Nunziante.

When the fatal moment arrived, Murat walked with a firm step to the place of execution, -- as calm, as unmoved, as if he had been going to an ordinary review. He would not accept a chair, nor suffer his eyes to be bound. "I have braved death (said he) too often to fear it." He stood upright, proudly and undauntedly, with his countenance towards the soldiers; and when all was ready, he kissed a cornelian on which the head of his wife was engraved, and gave the word -- thus, " Save my face -- aim at my heart -- fire! "

Thus perished one whom death had respected in two hundred combats,--and most of whose errors must be ascribed to a wretched education, and a lamentable want of self-government, moral energy, reflection, and patience. Murat was a child of impulse and feeling, -- not of reason and judgment. Mental discipline might have concentrated his powers, but hardly without destroying the romance of his character. As a soldier, he had never a superior, but he was no general; as a king, he was liberal, even indulgent, though often arbitrary from passion or caprice, and profusely extravagant from his fondness for show: as a man, he was generous and open-hearted; as a politician, wavering, ill-advised, and weak. In his domestic relations he was loved more than respected. Of his wife, whose general talents were far superior to his own, he was fond; -- as a father, affectionate; as a friend, warm-hearted and faithful.

Murat's widow still resides in Upper Austria, under the name of Countess of Lipano. Of his two daughters, the eldest, Marie, is married to the Marquis Popoli, of Bologna; the younger, Louisa, to Count Rasponi, of Ravenna. He left also two sons: the elder of whom is a citizen of the United States, and said to be a youth of very superior promise.