Napoleon cleverly played upon the passions of the Czar (who was more or less of a lunatic), flattered him by releasing the Russian prisoners held by France, and sending them home in new uniforms. Soon Napoleon had no admirer more ardent than the mad autocrat Paul, who wrote him a personal letter proposing a joint expedition against India. Prussia had declared her neutrality. Napoleon sent Duroc and a letter to the young King urging an alliance, Hamburg being the bait dangled before the Prussian monarch’s eyes. He was gracious, and he was tempted, but he did not yield: Prussia remained neutral. Great Britain had good reasons for wishing for the restoration of the Bourbons, from whose feeble hands so much of the colonial Empire of France had dropped; she had good reason to believe that a continuation of the war would increase her own colonial empire, but the manner in which she repelled Napoleon’s advances gave to France just the insult that was needed to arouse her in passionate support of the First Consul. Forced to continue the war, his preparations were soon made. * * * * * It may be doubted whether any victory that he ever won held a higher place in the memory of the great captain than that of Marengo. He never ceased to recall it as one of the most glorious days of his life. We see a proof of this in the Memoirs of General Marbot. The year was 1807, the battle of Eylau had been fought, the armies were in motion again; and Lannes, hard-pressed by the Russian host at Friedland, had sent his aide-de-camp speeding to the Emperor to hurry up support. “Mounted on my swift Lisette, I met the Emperor leaving Eylau. His face was beaming. He made me ride up by his side, and as we galloped I had to give him an account of what had taken place on the field of battle before I had left. The report finished, the Emperor smiled, and asked, “Have you a good memory?”--“Pretty fair, sire.”--“Well, what anniversary is it to-day, the 14th of June?”--“Marengo.”--“Yes,” replied the Emperor, “and I am going to beat the Russians to-day as I beat the Austrians at Marengo.” And as Napoleon reached the field, and rode along the lines, he called out to his troops, “It is a lucky day, the anniversary of Marengo!” The troops cheered him as he rode, and they won for him the great battle of Friedland.” The old uniform, sabre, spurs, hat, he had worn on that sunny day in Italy, in 1800, he scrupulously kept. In the year he was crowned Emperor he carried Josephine to see the plain he had immortalized, fought again in sham fight the battle of Marengo, wearing the faded uniform he had worn on that eventful day. Even on his last journey to dismal St. Helena, it seems that these relics of a glorious past were not forgotten. We read that when the dead warrior lay stark and stiff in his coffin on that distant rock, they spread over his feet “the cloak he had worn at Marengo.” * * * * *