“It must, however, be said, that Marshal Brune was just the man to accomplish such a transformation without friction; in him the frankness and loyalty of an old soldier were combined with other qualities more solid than brilliant.  Tacitus in hand, he looked on at modern revolutions as they passed, and only interfered when the, voice of his country called him to her defence.  The conqueror of Harlem and Bakkun had been for four years forgotten in retirement, or rather in exile, when the same voice which sent him away recalled him, and at the summons Cincinnatus left his plough and grasped his weapons.  Physically he was at this period a man of about fifty-five, with a frank and open face framed by large whiskers; his head was bald except for a little grizzled hair at the temples; he was tall and active, and had a remarkably soldierly bearing.

“I had been brought into contact with him by a report which one of my friends and I had drawn up on the opinions of the people of the South, and of which he had asked to have a copy.  In a long conversation with us, he discussed the subject with the impartiality of a man who brings an open mind to a debate, and he invited us to come often to see him.  We enjoyed ourselves so much in his society that we got into the habit of going to his house nearly every evening.

“On his arrival in the South an old calumny which had formerly pursued him again made its appearance, quite rejuvenated by its long sleep.  A writer whose name I have forgotten, in describing the Massacres of the Second of September and the death of the unfortunate Princesse de Lamballe, had said, ’Some people thought they recognised in the man who carried her head impaled on a pike, General Brune in disguise,’ and this accusation; which had been caught up with eagerness under the Consulate, still followed him so relentlessly in 1815, that hardly a day passed without his receiving an anonymous letter, threatening him with the same fate which had overtaken the princess.  One evening while we were with him such a letter arrived, and having read it he passed it on to us.  It was as follows: 

“’Wretch,—­We are acquainted with all your crimes, for which you will soon receive the chastisement you well deserve.  It was you who during the revolution brought about the death of the Princesse de Lamballe; it was you who carried her head on a pike, but your head will be impaled on something longer.  If you are so rash as to be present at the review of the Allies it is all up with you, and your head will be stuck on the steeple of the Accoules.  Farewell, scoundrel!’

“We advised him to trace this calumny to its source, and then to take signal vengeance on the authors.  He paused an instant to reflect, and then lit the letter at a candle, and looking at it thoughtfully as it turned to ashes in his hand, said,—­Vengeance!  Yes, perhaps by seeking that I could silence the authors of these slanders and preserve the public tranquillity which they constantly imperil.  But I prefer persuasion to severity.  My principle is, that it is better to bring men’s heads back to a right way of thinking than to cut them off, and to be regarded as a weak man rather than as a bloodthirsty one.’