Such a character was a perpetual protest, and Napoleon in the pride of colossal power confessed it. Son and son-in-law, though distinguished, could not obtain promotion,--the Emperor himself on one occasion erasing their names, with the tyrannical ejaculation, “These Lafayettes cross my path everywhere.” The true reason was disclosed, when, at another time, he said: “Lafayette alone in France holds fast to his original ideas of Liberty. Though tranquil now, he will reappear, if occasion offers.” Stronger homage to absolute fidelity could not be. He was tranquil, through all the splendid agony of the Empire, its marvellous conquests and its tremendous disasters,--tranquil at the victories of Austerlitz, Jena, Friedland, and Wagram, at the retreat from Moscow, at the stunning news from Leipsic, at the capitulation of Paris. As little could he participate in the restoration of Louis as in the usurpation of Napoleon. At last he reappeared. It was on the return from Elba, hazarding that peace purchased at such sacrifice, when, by characteristic action in harmony with his whole career, his present was linked with his past, and the chief of the Great Revolution, declining again the honors of the Senate and the title of Count, declaring, that, if ever again he entered public life, it must be as representative of the people, came forward as simple deputy, and then at an early day, with happy phrase, rallied the Chamber to an attitude of independence which should decide “whether it would be called a national representation or a Napoleon club.” The disaster of Waterloo hastened the impending crisis. The Emperor menaced a dissolution of the Chamber and a dictatorship. The time had come for the hero of Liberty. He spoke, and with a voice that had been silent for a generation bravely recalled the sacred cause of which he was the veteran, and that tri-color flag which was the symbol of Liberty, Equality, and Public Order. On his motion the Chamber declared itself permanent, and any attempt to dissolve it treason; and then, while vindicating France against the imputation of fickleness towards Napoleon, whom it had followed over uncounted fields, from the sands of Egypt to the snows of Russia, the Defender of Liberty insisted upon his abdication. Yet, true always to every just sentiment of gratitude and humanity, he scorned the idea of surrendering the fallen man to the Allies, saying he was “astonished that such a proposition should be addressed to a prisoner of Olmütz,”[115] and he sought to provide means for escape to America, showing him every consideration consistent with duty to the country.