Madam,—On my return from the place where your husband is perishing, what a tale of misery could I not unfold to you! But you are his wife, the mother of his son; what, then, can I say that will appeal to you more forcibly than the feelings that must naturally arise in your heart!

I think it my duty to inform your Majesty that I intend, at the approaching assemblage of the Allied Sovereigns, to lay at their feet my humble supplications for a mitigation of the misery and cruel sufferings which are inflicted in their name, and which cannot be adequately conceived, except by a servant so devoted as I am, or a relative so near as yourself.

But, Madam, what can be my claims, when compared with the sacred and all-powerful rights of your Majesty, which are held in veneration all over the world!

Deign then, Madam, to exercise those rights; and posterity, history, which consecrate crowns, will encircle your brow with a diadem as imperishable as your elevation of character, which subdues, and your gentle virtues, which delight the heart.[[37]]

I am, &c.,

COUNT LAS CASES.

MADAME MERE TO THE ALLIED SOVEREIGNS AT AIX-LA-CHAPELLE.

Sires,—A mother, afflicted beyond all expression, has long cherished the hope that the meeting of your Imperial and Royal Majesties will afford some alleviation of her distress.

The prolonged captivity of the Emperor Napoleon gives occasion for appealing to you. It is impossible but that your magnanimity, your power, and the recollection of past events, should induce your Imperial and Royal Majesties to interest yourselves for the deliverance of a Prince, who has had so great a share in your regard and even in your friendship.

Would you suffer to perish, in miserable exile, a Sovereign, who, relying on the magnanimity of his enemy, threw himself into his power? My son might have demanded an asylum from the Emperor, his father-in-law; he might have consigned himself to the generosity of the Emperor Alexander, of whom he was once the friend; he might have taken refuge with his Prussian Majesty, who, in that case, would, no doubt, have recollected his old alliance. Should England punish him for the confidence which he reposed in her?