RESIDENCE AT BRIARS. (continued 2)

Russia took umbrage at this; she thought herself trifled with, though without just ground. Nothing of an obligatory nature had yet transpired; both parties remained perfectly free. Political interests predominated over every thing.

The Emperor appointed the Duchess de Montebello to be lady of honour to Maria-Louisa; the Count de Beauharnais to be her gentleman of honour, and the Prince Aldobrandini to be her equerry. In the misfortunes of 1814, these individuals, said the Emperor, did not evince the devotedness which the Empress was entitled to expect from them. Her equerry deserted her without taking his leave; her gentleman of honour refused to follow her; and her lady of honour, notwithstanding the attachment which the Empress entertained for her, thought she had completely fulfilled her duty in attending her mistress as far as Vienna.

The appointment of the Duchess de Montebello to the post of lady of honour was one of those happy selections 201which, at the time it was made, excited universal approbation. The Duchess was a young and beautiful woman, of irreproachable character, and the widow of a marshal, called the Orlando of the army, who had recently fallen on the field of battle. This choice was very agreeable to the army, and encouraged the national party, who were alarmed at the marriage and the number and rank of the chamberlains who were appointed. This retinue was, by many, looked upon as a step towards the counter-revolution; and endeavours were made to represent it as such. As for the Emperor, he had acted in ignorance of the character of Maria-LouisaMaria-Louisa, and had been principally influenced by the fear that she would be filled with prejudices respecting birth, that might be offensive at the Court. When he came to know her better, and found that she was wholly imbued with the prevailing notions of the day, he regretted not having made another choice. He conceived that he should have done better to select the Countess de Beauveau, a woman of amiable, mild, and inoffensive manners, who would have been influenced only by the family advice of her numerous relatives, and who might thus have introduced a kind of useful custom, and have occasioned the appointment of well-recommended inferiors. She might also have rallied about the Court many persons who were at a distance; and that without any inconvenience, because these arrangements could only have been brought about by the sanction of the Emperor, who was not the sort of man to allow himself to be abused.

The Empress conceived the tenderest affection for the Duchess de Montebello. This lady had at one time a chance of being Queen of Spain. Ferdinand VII. when at Valency, requested the Emperor’s permission to marry Mademoiselle de Tascher, cousin-german of Josephine, and bearing the same name, after the example of the Prince of Baden, who married Mademoiselle de Beauharnais. The Emperor, who already contemplated a separation from Josephine, refused his consent to the match, not wishing by this connexion to add to the difficulties that already stood in the way of his divorce. Ferdinand then solicited the hand of the Duchess de 202Montebello, or of any other French lady whom the Emperor might think proper to adopt. The Emperor subsequently gave Mademoiselle de Tascher in marriage to the Duke d’Aremberg, whom he intended to create Governor of the Netherlands; with the view of ultimately compensating Brussels for the loss of the old Court. The Emperor moreover wished to appoint the Count de Narbonne, who had taken part in the Empress’s marriage, Gentleman of honour, in room of the Count de Beauharnais; but the extreme aversion which Maria-Louisa evinced for this change deterred the Emperor from carrying it into effect. The Empress’s dislike to the Count de Narbonne was, however, only occasioned by the intrigues of the individuals composing her household, who had nothing to fear from M. de Beauharnais, but who very much dreaded the influence and talent of M. de Narbonne.

The Emperor informed us that, when he had to make appointments to difficult posts, he usually asked the persons about him to furnish him with a list of candidates; and from these lists, and the information he obtained, he privately deliberated on his choice. He mentioned several individuals who were proposed as lady of honour to the Empress: they were the Princess de Vaudemont, Madame de Rochefoucalt, afterwards Madame de Castellanes, and some others. He then asked us to tell him whom we should have proposed; which occasioned us to take a review of a good part of the Court. One of us mentioned Madame de Montesquiou; upon which the Emperor replied, “She would have done well, but she had a post which suited her still better. She was a woman of singular merit; her piety was sincere, and her principles excellent; she had the highest claims on my esteem and regard. I wanted half a dozen like her; I would have given them all appointments equal to their deserts, and wished for more. She discharged her duties admirably when with my son at Vienna.”

The following anecdote will afford a correct idea of the manner in which Madame de Montesquiou managed the King of Rome. The apartments of the young Prince were on the ground floor, and looked out on the 203court, of the Tuileries. At almost every hour in the day, numbers of people were looking in at the window, in the hope of seeing him. One day when he was in a violent fit of passion, and rebelling furiously against the authority of Madame de Montesquiou, she immediately ordered all the shutters to be closed. The child, surprised at the sudden darkness, asked Maman Quiou, as he used to call her, what it all meant. “I love you too well,” she replied, “not to hide your anger from the crowd in the court-yard. You, perhaps, will one day be called to govern all those people, and what would they say if they saw you in such a fit of rage? Do you think they would ever obey you, if they knew you to be so naughty?” Upon which, the child begged her pardon, and promised never again to give way to such fits of anger.

“This,” observed the Emperor, “was language very different from that addressed by M. de Villeroi to Louis XV. ‘Behold all those people, my Prince,’ said he, ‘they belong to you; all the men you see yonder are yours.’”

Madame de Montesquiou was adored by the young King of Rome. At the time of her removal from Vienna it was found necessary to employ stratagems to deceive the child: it was even feared that his health would suffer from the separation.

The Emperor had conceived many novel ideas relative to the education of the King of Rome. For this important object he decided on the Institut de Meudon, of which he had already laid down the principle, with the view of farther developing it at his leisure. There he proposed to assemble the Princes of the Imperial house, particularly the sons of those branches of the family who had been raised to foreign thrones. This plan, he contended, would have combined the attentions of private tuition with the advantages of public education. “These children,” said the Emperor, “who were destined to occupy different thrones, and to govern different nations, would thus have acquired conformity of principles, manners, and ideas. The better to facilitate the amalgamation and uniformity of the federative parts of the 204Empire, each Prince was to bring with him from his own country ten or twelve youths of about his own age, the sons of the first families in the state. What an influence would they not have exercised on their return home! I doubted not,” continued the Emperor, “but that Princes of other dynasties, unconnected with my family, would soon have solicited, as a great favour, permission to place their sons in the Institute of Meudon. What advantages would thence have arisen to the nations composing the European association! All these young Princes,” said he, “would have been brought together early enough to be united in the tender and powerful bonds of youthful friendship: and they would, at the same time, have been separated early enough to obviate the fatal effects of rising passions—the ardour of partiality—the ambition of success—the jealousy of love.”

The Emperor wished that the education of the Princes should be founded on general information, extended views, summaries, and results. He wished them to possess knowledge rather than learning, judgment rather than attainments; he preferred the application of details to the study of theories. Above all, he objected to the pursuing of any particular study too deeply, for he regarded perfection, or too great success in certain things, whether in the arts or sciences, as a disadvantage to a prince. A nation, he said, will never gain much by being governed by a poet, a virtuoso, a naturalist, a chymist, a turner, a locksmith, &c. &c.

Maria-Louisa confessed to the Emperor that, when her marriage with him was first proposed, she could not help feeling a kind of terror, owing to the accounts she had heard of Napoleon from the individuals of her family. When she mentioned these reports to her uncles, the Archdukes, who were very urgent for the marriage, they replied,—“That was all very true, while he was our enemy: but the case is altered now.“

“To afford an idea of the sympathy and good will with which the different members of the Austrian family were taught to regard me,” said the Emperor, “it is sufficient to mention that one of the young Archdukes 205frequently burned his dolls, which he called roasting Napoleon. He afterwards declared he would not roast me any more, for he loved me very much, because I had given his sister Louisa plenty of money to buy him play-things.”

Since my return to Europe, I have had an opportunity of ascertaining the sentiments entertained by the House of Austria towards Napoleon. In Germany, a person of distinction informed me that having had a private audience of the Emperor Francis, during his tour in Italy in 1816, the conversation turned on Napoleon. Francis spoke of him in the most respectful terms. One might almost have supposed, said my informant, that he still regarded him as the ruler of France, and that he was ignorant of his captivity at St. Helena. He never alluded to him by any other title than the Emperor Napoleon.

I learned from the same individual that the Archduke John, when in Italy, visited a rotunda, on the ceiling of which was painted a celebrated action of which Napoleon was the hero. As he raised his head to look at the painting, his hat fell off, and one of his attendants stooped to pick it up. “Let it be,” said he; “it is thus that the man who is there portrayed should be contemplated.”

Now that I am on this subject, I will note down a few particulars which I collected in Germany since my return to Europe; and to mark the degree of credit to which they are entitled, I may mention that I obtained them from individuals holding high diplomatic posts. Every one knows that these members of diplomatic corps form among themselves a sort of family, a kind of free-masonry, and that their sources of information are of the most authentic kind.

The Empress Maria-Louisa complained that, when she quitted France, M. de Talleyrand reserved to himself the honour of demanding from her the restitution of the Crown jewels, and ascertaining whether they had been restored with the most scrupulous exactness.

In 1814, during the disasters of France, many tempting and brilliant proposals were made to Prince Eugene. 206An Austrian General offered him the crown of Italy, in the name of the Allies, on condition of his joining them. This offer afterwards came from a still higher quarter, and was several times repeated. During the reign of the Emperor there had been some idea of raising the Prince to a throne; and those of Portugal, Naples, and Poland, were thought of.

In 1815, men of high influence in European diplomacy endeavoured to sound his opinions, with the view of ascertaining whether, in case Napoleon should again be constrained to abdicate, and the choice should fall on him, he would accept the Crown. On this occasion, as on every other, the Prince steadily pursued a line of duty and honour which will immortalize him. Honour and fidelity was his constant reply; and posterity will make it his device.

On the distribution of States in 1814, the Emperor Alexander, who frequently visited the Empress Josephine at Malmaison, signified a wish to procure for her son the sovereignty of Genoa. She, however, declined this proposition, at the instigation of one of the ruling diplomatists, who falsely flattered her with the hope of something better.

At the Congress of Vienna, the Emperor Alexander, who honoured Prince Eugene with particular marks of favour, insisted that he should be made the Sovereign of at least three hundred thousand subjects. He testified the sincerest friendship for him, and they were every day seen walking about together arm-in-arm. The landing at Cannes put an end, if not to the sentiment, at least to the manifestation of it; and changed the political interests of the Emperor of Russia.—The Austrian government even entertained the idea of seizing the person of Prince Eugene, and sending him a prisoner to a fortress in Hungary; but the King of Bavaria, his father-in-law, indignantly represented to the Emperor of Austria that Eugene had gone to Vienna under his protection and guarantee, and that they should not be violated. Thus Eugene remained free on his own private parole and that of the King his father-in-law.

So lately as 1814, gold twenty and forty-franc pieces 207were struck at Milan with the head of Napoleon and the date of 1814. Either from motives of economy or some other cause, no new die had yet been engraved.

After the fall of Napoleon, Alexander on several occasions manifested a marked and decided dislike to him. In 1815 he was the promoter of the second crusade against Napoleon; he directed every hostile measure with the utmost degree of animosity, and seemed to make it almost a personal affair; alleging, as the cause of his aversion, that he had been deceived and trifled with. If this tardy resentment was not a mere pretence, there is every reason to believe that it was stirred up by an old confidant of Napoleon’s, who, in private conversations, had artfully wounded the vanity of Alexander, by statements, true or false, of the private opinion of Napoleon with regard to his illustrious friend.

In 1814 there appeared reason to believe that Alexander would not be averse to see young Napoleon placed on the throne of France. After the Emperor’s second abdication, he seemed far less favourably disposed to the continuance of Napoleon’s dynasty.

In the second crusade, the Emperor Alexander marched at the head of innumerable forces. He was heard to declare, at that period, that the war might last for three years; but that Napoleon would nevertheless be subdued in the end.

On the first intelligence of the battle of Fleurus, the chiefs of all the Russian columns immediately received orders to halt; while all the Austrian and Bavarian corps instantly turned off, with the view of detaching themselves and forming a separate force. Had the Congress of Vienna been broken up on the 20th of March, it is almost certain that the crusade would not have been renewed; and had Napoleon been victorious at Waterloo, it is also tolerably certain that the crusade would have been dissolved.

The news of Napoleon’s landing at Cannes was a thunderbolt to the French plenipotentiary at Vienna. He indeed drew up the famous declaration of the 13th of March; and, virulent as it is, the first draft was still more so: it was amended by other ministers. The 208countenance of this plenipotentiary, as he gradually learned the advance of Napoleon, was a sort of thermometer, which excited the laughter of all the members of the Congress.

Austria soon knew the real state of affairs: her couriers informed her admirably well of all that was passing. The members of the French Legation alone were involved in doubt: they were still circulating a magnanimous letter from the King to the other Sovereigns, informing them that he was resolved to die at the Tuileries, when it was already known that Louis had left the capital, and was on his way to the frontier.

A member of the Congress and Lord Wellington, in a confidential conversation with the members of the French Legation, with the map in their hands, assigned the 20th or the 21st for Napoleon’s entry into Paris.

As the Emperor Francis received the official publications from Grenoble and Lyons, he regularly forwarded them to Schöenbrunn, to Maria Louisa, to whom they afforded extreme joy. It is very true that, at a somewhat later period, an idea was entertained of seizing young Napoleon, in order to convey him to France.

The French Plenipotentiary at length quitted Vienna, and proceeded to Frankfort and Wisbaden, whence he could more conveniently negotiate either with Ghent or Paris. Never was a time-serving courier thrown into greater embarrassment and anxiety. The ardour with which he had been inspired, on receiving the intelligence of Napoleon’s landing at Cannes, was very much abated when he heard of the Emperor’s arrival at Paris; and he entered into an understanding with Fouché that the latter should be his guarantee with Napoleon, pledging himself, on the other hand, to be Fouché’s guarantee with the Bourbons. There is good ground for believing that the offers made by this Plenipotentiary to the new Sovereign went very great lengths indeed; but Napoleon indignantly rejected them, lest, as he said, he should degrade his policy too far.

In 1814, before M. de Talleyrand declared himself for the Bourbons, he was for the Regency; in which, however, he himself wished to play the principal part. 209Events fatal to the Napoleon dynasty prevented this moment of uncertainty from being turned to good account. Every thing tends to prove that the result which was at that period adopted was far from being agreeable to the intentions of Austria; that power was duped, betrayed, or at least carried by assault.

The fatality attending the military movements was such that the Allies entered Paris without the concurrence of the Austrian Cabinet. Alexander’s famous declaration against Napoleon Buonaparte and his family was also made without the Austrian Power being consulted; and the Count d’Artois only entered France by contriving to slip in secretly in spite of the orders at the Austrian head-quarters, where he had been refused passports.

It appears that Austria, on the retreat from Moscow, exerted sincere efforts in London for negotiating a peace with Napoleon; but the influence of the Russian Cabinet was all-powerful in London, and no proposals for peace were listened to. The armistice of Dresden then arrived, and Austria declared for war.

During this interval, the Austrian minister in London could never obtain a hearing. He however remained for a considerable time in the English capital, and did not leave it until the Allies had reached the heart of France, and Lord Castlereagh hinted at the possibility, for a moment, that the heroic success of Napoleon might render negotiations indispensable.

If this minister had not previously been sent to London, he would have been destined for Paris; and there probably his influence might have brought about a turn of negotiations different from those which arose during his absence between the Tuileries and Vienna.

In the height of the crisis he found himself detained in England as if by force. In his impatience to reach the grand centre of negotiations, he quitted his post, and proceeded to Holland, braving a violent tempest. No sooner had he arrived on the theatre of events than he fell into the hands of Napoleon at Saint-Dizier; but the fate of France was then decided, though the fact was not yet known at the French head-quarters. Alexander was entering Paris.

210The Austrian minister in London exerted every endeavour to procure a passport to enable him to join his Sovereign by passing through Calais and Paris; but in vain. This circumstance; whether accidental, or premeditated, was another fatality. But for this disappointment, the Austrian minister would have reached Paris before the Allies, would have joined Maria-Louisa, would have defeated the last projects of M. de Talleyrand, and would have altogether produced new combinations.

Opinion was divided in the Austrian Cabinet. One party was for the union with France; the other was for the alliance with Russia. Intrigue or chance decided in favour of Russia, and Austria, from that moment, was merely led on.

14th.—The coffee that was served at our breakfast this morning was better than usual; it was even good. The Emperor expressed himself pleased with it. Some moments after he observed, placing his hand on his stomach, that he felt the benefit of it. It would be difficult to express what were my feelings on hearing this simple remark. The Emperor, by thus appreciating so trivial an enjoyment, contrary to his custom, unconsciously proved to me the effect of all the privations he had suffered, but of which he never complained.

When we returned from our evening walk, the Emperor read to me a chapter on the Provisional Consuls, which he had dictated to M. de Montholon. Having finished reading, the Emperor took a piece of ribbon, and began to tie together the loose sheets of paper. It was late; the silence of night prevailed around us. My reflections were on that day of a melancholy cast. I gazed on the Emperor. I looked on those hands which had wielded so many sceptres, and which were now tranquilly, and perhaps, not without some degree of pleasure, occupied in the humble task of tying together a few sheets of paper. On these sheets, indeed, were traced events that will never be forgotten; portraits that will decide the judgment of posterity. It is the book of life or death to many whose names are recorded in it. These were the reflections that passed in my mind. “And the Emperor,” thought I, “reads to me what he writes; he 211familiarly converses with me, asks my opinion, and I freely give it. After all, I am not to be pitied in my exile at St. Helena.”

15th.—Immediately after dinner the Emperor walked in his favourite path. He had his coffee carried down to him in the garden, and he drank it as he walked about. The conversation turned on love. I must have made some very fine and sentimental remarks on this important subject; for the Emperor laughed at what he styled my prattle, and said that he understood none of my romantic verbiage. Then speaking with an air of levity, he wished to make me believe that he was better acquainted with sensations than sentiments. I made free to remark that he was trying to be thought worse than he was described to be in the authentic, but very secret, accounts that were circulated about the palace. “And what was said of me?” resumed he, with an air of gaiety. “Sire,” I replied, “it is understood that, when in the summit of your power, you suffered yourself to be bound in the chains of love; that you became a hero of romance; that, fired by an unexpected resistance, you conceived an attachment for a lady in private life; that you wrote her above a dozen love-letters; and that her power over you prevailed so far as to compel you to disguise yourself, and to visit her secretly and alone, at her own residence, in the heart of Paris.”—”And how came this to be known?” said he, smiling; which of course amounted to an admission of the fact. “And it was doubtless added,” continued he, “that that was the most imprudent act of my whole life; for, had my mistress proved treacherous, what might not have been my fate—alone and disguised, in the circumstances in which I was placed, amidst the snares with which I was surrounded? But what more is said of me?”—“Sire, it is affirmed that your Majesty’s posterity is not confined to the King of Rome. The secret chronicle states that he has two elder brothers: one the offspring of a fair foreigner, whom you loved in a distant country; the other, the fruit of a connection nearer at hand, in the bosom of your own capital. It was asserted that both had been conveyed to Malmaison, before our departure; the one brought by his mother, 212and the other introduced by his tutor; and they were described to be the living portraits of their father.”^[23]

The Emperor laughed much at the extent of my information, as he termed it; and being now in a merry vein, he began to take a frank retrospect of his early years, relating many of the love-affairs and numerous adventures in which he had been engaged. I omit the first; amongst the second he mentioned a supper that took place in the neighbourhood of the Saone at the commencement of the Revolution, and at which he had been present in company with the faithful Desmazzis. He described the whole with the utmost pleasantry.—He had got himself, he observed, into a wasp’s nest, where his patriotic eloquence had to contend strenuously against the contrary doctrines of the other guests, and had nearly brought him into a serious scrape. “You and I,” he continued, “were at that time very far from each other.”—”Not so very far, in point of distance, Sire,” replied, “though certainly very remote with respect to doctrines. At that time I was also in the neighbourhood of the Saone, on one of the quays of Lyons, where crowds of patriots were declaiming against the cannon which they had just discovered in some boats, and which they termed a counter-revolution. I very inopportunely proposed that they should make sure of the cannon, by administering to them the civic oath. However, I narrowly escaped being hanged for my folly. You see, Sire, that I might precisely at that moment have balanced your account, had any disaster befallen you among your aristocrat companions.” This was not the only curious coincidence that was mentioned in the course of the evening. The Emperor, having related to me an interesting circumstance that took place in 1788, said, “Where were you at that time.”—“Sire,” replied I, after a few moments recollection, “I was then at Martinique, supping every evening with the future Empress Josephine.”

A shower of rain came on and we were obliged to retire from our favourite path, which, the Emperor observed, 213we might probably at a future period look back to with pleasure. “Perhaps so,” I replied; “but certainly that will not be until we have forsaken it for ever. Meanwhile we must content ourselves with naming it the Path of Philosophy, since it cannot be called the Path of Lethe.”

THE FAUXBOURG SAINT-GERMAIN, &C.—THE EMPEROR’S FREEDOM FROM PREJUDICE AND ILL-WILL.—CHARACTERISTIC LANGUAGE.

16th.—To-day the Emperor put some questions to me relative to the Fauxbourg Saint-Germain; that last bulwark of the old aristocracy, that refuge of old-fashioned prejudices; the Germanic League, as he called it. I told him that, before his last misfortune, his power had extended into every part of it: it had been invaded, and its name alone remained; it had been shaken and vanquished by glory; and the victories of Austerlitz and Jena, and the triumph of Tilsit, had achieved its conquest. The younger portion of the inhabitants, and all who had generous hearts, could not be insensible to the glory of their country. The Emperor’s marriage with Maria-Louisa gave it the last blow. The few malcontents who remained were either those whose ambition had not been gratified, and who are to be found in all classes, or some obstinate old men, and silly old women, bewailing their past influence. All reasonable and sensible persons had yielded to the superior talents of the Head of the State, and endeavoured to console themselves for their losses in the hope of a better prospect for their children. This became the point towards which all their ideas were directed. They gave the Emperor credit for his partiality to old family names; they agreed that any one else in his place would have annihilated them. They prized very highly the confidence with which the Emperor had collected individuals of ancient family about his person; and they valued him no less for the language he had made use of in making choice of their children to serve in the army:—“These names belong to France and to History; I am the guardian of their glory, I will not allow them to perish.” These and 214other such expressions had gained him numbers of proselytes. The Emperor here expressed his apprehension that sufficient favour had not been shewn to this party. “My system of amalgamation,” said he, “required it: I wished and even directed favours to be conferred on them: but the ministers, who were the great mediators, never properly fulfilled my real intentions in that respect; either because they had not sufficient foresight, or because they feared that they might thus create rivals for favour, and diminish their own chances. M. Talleyrand, in particular, always shewed great opposition to such a measure, and always resisted my favourable intuitions towards the old nobility.” I observed, however, that the greater part of those whom he had placed near him had soon shewn themselves attached to his person; that they had served him conscientiously, and had, generally speaking, remained faithful to him at the critical moment. The Emperor did not deny it, and even went so far as to say that the twofold event of the King’s return and his own abdication must naturally have had great influence on certain doctrines; and that, for his own part, he could see a great difference between the same conduct pursued in 1814 and in 1815.

And here I must observe that, since I have become acquainted with the Emperor’s character, I have never known him to evince, for a single moment, the least feeling of anger or animosity against those individuals who had been most to blame in their conduct towards him. He gives no great credit to those who distinguished themselves by their good conduct: they had only done their duty. He is not very indignant against those who acted basely; he partly saw through their characters: they yielded to the impulses of their nature. He speaks of them coolly, and without animosity; attributing their conduct in some measure to existing circumstances, which he acknowledged were of a very perplexing nature, and placing the rest to the account of human weakness. Vanity was the ruin of Marmont: “Posterity will justly cast a shade upon his character,” said he; “yet his heart will be more valued than the memory of his career. The conduct of Augereau was the result of his 215want of information, and the baseness of those who surrounded him; that of Berthier, of his want of spirit, and his absolute nullity of character.”

I remarked that the latter had let slip the best and easiest opportunity of rendering himself for ever illustrious, by frankly making his submission to the King, and intreating his Majesty’s permission to withdraw from the world, and mourn in solitude the fate of him who had honoured him with the title of his companion in arms, and had called him his friend. “Yes,” said the Emperor; “even this step, simple as it was, was beyond his power.”—“His talents, his understanding,” said I, “had always been a subject of doubt with us. Your Majesty’s choice, your confidence, your great attachment, surprised us exceedingly.”—“To say the truth,” replied the Emperor, “Berthier was not without talent, and I am far from wishing to disavow his merit, or my partiality for him; but his talent and merit were special and technical; beyond a limited point he had no mind whatever: and then he was so undecided.”—I observed that “he was, notwithstanding, full of pretensions and pride in his conduct towards us.”—“Do you think, then, that the title of Favourite goes for nothing?” said the Emperor. I added, that “he was very harsh and overbearing.” “And what,” said he, “my dear Las Cases, is more overbearing than weakness which feels itself protected by strength? Look at women, for example.”

Berthier accompanied the Emperor in his carriage during his campaigns. As they drove along, the Emperor would examine the order-book and the report of the positions, whence he formed his resolutions, adopted his plans, and arranged the necessary movements. Berthier noted down his directions, and at the first station they came to, or during the first moments allotted to rest, whether by night or by day, he made out, in his turn, all the orders and individual details with admirable regularity, precision, and despatch. This was a kind of duty at which he shewed himself always ready and indefatigable. “This was the special merit of Berthier,” said the Emperor: “it was most valuable 216to me; no other talent could have made up for the want of it.”

I now return to notice some characteristic traits of the Emperor. He invariably speaks with perfect coolness, without passion, without prejudice, and without resentment, of the events and the persons connected with his life. It is evident that he would be capable of becoming the ally of his most cruel enemy, and of living with the man who had done him the greatest wrong. He speaks of his past history as if it had occurred three centuries ago: in his recitals and his observations he speaks the language of past ages: he is like a spirit discoursing in the Elysian fields; his conversations are true Dialogues of the Dead. He speaks of himself as of a third person; noticing the Emperor’s actions, pointing out the faults with which history may reproach him, and analysing the reasons and the motives which might be alleged in his justification.

He never can excuse himself, he says, by throwing blame on others, since he never followed any but his own decision. He may complain, at the worst, of false information, but never of bad counsel. He had surrounded himself with the best possible advisers, but he had always adhered to his own opinion, and he was far from repenting of having done so. “It is,” said he, “the indecision and anarchy of agents which produce anarchy and feebleness in results. In order to form a just opinion respecting the faults produced by the sole personal decision of the Emperor, it will be necessary to throw into the scale the great actions which he would have been prevented from performing, and the other faults which he would have been induced to commit, by those very counsels which he is blamed for not having followed.”

In viewing the complicated circumstances of his fall, looks upon things so much in a mass, and from so high a point, that individuals escape his notice. He never evinces the least symptom of virulence towards those of whom it might be supposed he has the greatest reason to complain. His greatest mark of reprobation, and I have had frequent occasion to notice it, is to preserve 217silence with respect to them, whenever they are mentioned in his presence. But how often has he not been heard to restrain the violent and less reserved expressions of those about him? “You are not acquainted with men,” he has said to us; “they are difficult to comprehend, if one wishes to be strictly just. Can they understand or explain even their own characters? Almost all those who abandoned me would, had I continued to be prosperous, never, perhaps have dreamed of their own defection. There are vices and virtues which depend on circumstances. Our last trials were beyond all human strength! Besides I was forsaken rather than betrayed; there was more of weakness than of perfidy around me. It was the denial of St. Peter: tears and repentance are probably at hand. And where will you find, in the page of history, any one possessing a greater number of friends and partisans? Who was ever more popular and more beloved? Who was ever more ardently and deeply regretted? Here, from this very rock, on viewing the present disorders in France, who would not be tempted to say that I still reign there? The Kings and princes, my allies, have remained faithful to me to the last, they were carried away by the people in a mass: and those who were around me, found themselves enveloped and overwhelmed by an irresistible whirlwind.... No! human nature might have appeared in a light still more odious, and I might have had still greater cause of complaint!”

ON THE OFFICERS OF THE EMPEROR’S HOUSEHOLD IN 1814.—PLAN OF ADDRESS TO THE KING.

17th.—The Emperor asked me some questions to-day relative to the officers of his household. With the exception of two or three, at the most, who had drawn upon themselves the contempt of the very party to which they had gone over, nothing could be said against them: the majority had even evinced an ardent devotion to the Emperor’s interests. The Emperor then made enquiries respecting some of these individuals in particular, calling them by their names; and I could not but express my approbation of them all. “What do you tell me?” 218said he, interrupting me hastily while I was speaking of one of them; “and yet I gave him so bad a reception at the Tuileries on my return! Ah! I fear I have committed some involuntary acts of injustice! This comes of being obliged to take for granted the first story that is told, and of not having a single moment to spare for verification! I fear too that I have left many debts of gratitude in arrear! How unfortunate it is to be incapable of doing every thing one’s self!”

I replied—“Sire, it is true that, if blame be attached to the officers of your household, it must be shared equally by all; a fact, however, which must humble us strangely in the eyes of foreign nations. As soon as the King appeared, all hastened to him, not as to the sovereign whom your abdication had left us, but as to one who had never ceased to be our sovereign; not with the dignity of men proud of having always fulfilled their duties, but with the equivocal embarrassment of unskilful courtiers. Each sought only to justify himself: your Majesty was from that instant disavowed and abjured; the title of Emperor was dropped. The Ministers, the Nobles, the intimate friends of your Majesty, styled you simply 'Buonaparte,’ and blushed not for themselves or their nation. They excused themselves by saying that they had been compelled to serve; that they could not do otherwise, through dread of the treatment they might have experienced.” The Emperor here recognised a true picture of our national character. He said we were still the same people as our ancestors the Gauls: that we still retained the same levity, the same inconstancy, and, above all, the same vanity. “When shall we,” said he, “exchange this vanity for a little pride?”

“The officers of your Majesty’s household,” said I, “neglected a noble opportunity of acquiring both honour and popularity. There were above one hundred and fifty officers of the household; a great number of them belonged to the first families, and were men of independent fortune. It was for them to set an example, which, being followed by others, might have given another impulse to the national attitude, and afforded us a claim on 219public esteem.”^[24]—“Yes,” said the Emperor, “if all the upper classes had acted in that way, affairs might have 220turned out very differently. The old editors of the public journals would not then have indulged in their chimeras of the good old times; we should not then have been annoyed with their dissertations on the straight line and the curve line; the King would have adhered honestly to his charter; I should never have dreamed of quitting the Island of Elba; the head of the nation would have been recorded in history with greater honour and dignity; and we should all have been gainers.”

THE EMPEROR’S IDEA OF RESERVING CORSICA.—HIS OPINION OF ROBESPIERRE.—HIS IDEAS RESPECTING PUBLIC OPINION.—EXPIATORY INTENTION OF THE EMPEROR WITH REGARD TO THE VICTIMS OF THE REVOLUTION.

18th.—After the accustomed occupation of the day, I accompanied the Emperor to the garden about four o’clock. He had just completed his dictation on the subject of Corsica. Having concluded every thing he had to say relative to that island, and to Paoli, he adverted to the interest which he himself excited there, while yet so young, at the time of his separation from Paoli. He added that latterly he might to a certainty have united in his favour the wishes, the sentiments, and the efforts of the whole population of Corsica; and that, had he retired to that island on quitting Paris, he would have been beyond the reach of any foreign power whatever. He had an idea of doing so when he abdicated in favour of his son. He was on the point of reserving to himself the possession of Corsica during his life. No obstacle at sea would have obstructed his passage thither. But he abandoned that design for the sake of rendering his abdication the more sincere and the more advantageous to France. His residence in the centre of the Mediterranean, in the bosom of Europe, so near France and Italy, might have furnished a lasting 221pretext to the Allies. He even preferred America to England, from the same motive and the same idea. It is true that, in the sincerity of his own measures, he neither did, nor could foresee, his unjust and violent banishment to St. Helena.

The Emperor, next proceeding to take a review of different points of the Revolution, dwelt particularly on Robespierre, whom he did not know, but whom he believed to be destitute of talent, energy, or system. He considered him, notwithstanding, merely as the scapegoat of the Revolution, sacrificed as soon as he endeavoured to arrest it in its course:—the common fate, he observed, of all who, before himself (Napoleon) had ventured to take that step. The Terrorists and their doctrine survived Robespierre; and if their excesses were not continued, it was because they were obliged to bow to public opinion. They threw all the blame on Robespierre; but the latter declared shortly before his death, that he was a stranger to the recent executions, and that he had not appeared in the Committees for six weeks previously. Napoleon confessed that, while he was with the army of Nice, he had seen some long letters addressed by Robespierre to his brother, condemning the horrors of the Commissioners of the Convention, who, as he expressed it, were ruining the Revolution by their tyranny and atrocities. “Cambaceres, who,” observed the Emperor, “must be a good authority on subjects relating to that period, answered an enquiry which I one day addressed to him respecting the condemnation of Robespierre, in these remarkable words: ‘Sire, that was a sentence without a trial;’ adding that Robespierre had more foresight and conception than was generally imagined; and that his intention was, after subduing the unbridled factions which he had to oppose, to restore a system of order and moderation. ‘Some time previously to his fall,’ added Cambaceres, ‘he delivered a most admirable speech on this subject; it was not thought proper to insert it in the Moniteur, and all trace of it is now lost.’”

This is not the first instance I have heard of omissions and want of accuracy in the Moniteur. In the reports 222inserted in that journal relative to the proceedings of the Assembly, there must be a period remarkable for incorrectness; as the minutes of those proceedings were for a time arbitrarily drawn up by one of the Committees.

Those who are induced to believe that Robespierre was at once wearied, satiated, and alarmed by the Revolution, and had resolved on checking it, affirm that he would not take any decided step until after he had read his famous speech. He considered it so fine that he had no doubt of its effect on the Assembly. If this be true, his mistake or his vanity cost him dear. Those who think differently assert that Danton and Camille-des-Moulins had precisely the same views; and yet that Robespierre sacrificed them. To these it is replied that Robespierre sacrificed them to preserve his popularity, because he judged that the decisive moment had not yet arrived; or because he did not wish to resign to them the glory of the enterprise.

Be this as it may, it is certain that the nearer we approach to the instruments and the agents in that catastrophe, the greater obscurity and mystery we find; and this uncertainty will but increase with time. Thus the page of history will, on this point as on many others, become the record, not so much of the events which really occurred, as of the statements which are given of them.

In the course of our conversation relative to Robespierre, the Emperor said that he had been very well acquainted with his brother, the younger Robespierre, the representative to the Army of Italy. He said nothing against this young man, whom he had led into action and inspired with great confidence and considerable enthusiasm for his person; so much so, that previously to the 9th of Thermidor, young Robespierre, being recalled by his brother, who was then secretly laying his plans, insisted on Napoleon’s accompanying him to Paris. The latter experienced the greatest difficulty in ridding himself of the importunity, and, at length, only escaped it by requesting the interference of the General-in-chief Dumerbion, whose entire confidence he possessed, and 223who represented that it was absolutely necessary he should remain where he was. “Had I followed young Robespierre,” said the Emperor, “how different might have been my career! On what trivial circumstances does human fate depend!—Some office would doubtless have been assigned to me; and I might at that moment have been destined to attempt a sort of Vendemiaire. But I was then very young; my ideas were not yet fixed. It is probable, indeed, that I should not have undertaken any task that might have been allotted to me; but supposing the contrary case, and even admitting that I had been successful, what results could I have hoped for? In Vendemiaire the revolutionary fever was totally subdued; in Thermidor it was still raging in its utmost fury and at its greatest height.”

“Public opinion,” said the Emperor, on another occasion, when conversing on another subject, “is an invisible and mysterious power which it is impossible to resist: nothing is more unsteady, more vague, or more powerful; and capricious as it may be, it is, nevertheless, just and reasonable more frequently than is supposed. On becoming Provisional Consul, the first act of my administration was the banishment of fifty anarchists. Public opinion, which had at first been furiously hostile to them, suddenly turned in their favour, and I was forced to retract. But some time afterwards, these same anarchists, having shewn a disposition to engage in plots, were again overthrown by that very public opinion, which had now returned to support me. Thus, through the errors that were committed at the time of the restoration, popularity was secured to the regicides, who but a moment before had been proscribed by the great mass of the nation.

“It belonged to me only,” continued the Emperor, “to shed a lustre over the memory of Louis XVI. in France, and to purify the nation of the crimes with which it had been sullied by frantic acts and unfortunate fatalities. The Bourbons, being of the royal family, and coming from abroad, merely avenged their own private cause, and augmented the national opprobrium. I, on the contrary, being one of the people, should have raised 224the character of the nation, by banishing from society, in her name, those whose crimes had disgraced her. This was my intention, but I proceeded prudently in the fulfilment of it. The three expiatory altars at St. Denis were but a prelude to my design. The Temple of Glory, on the site of the Magdelaine, was to have been devoted to this object with still greater solemnity. There, near the tomb and over the very bones of the political victims of our revolution, monuments and religious ceremonies would have consecrated their memory in the name of the French people. This is a secret that was not known to above ten individuals: though it had been found necessary to communicate a hint of the design to those who were intrusted with the arrangement of the edifice. I should not have executed my scheme in less than ten years; but what precautions had I not adopted; how carefully had I smoothed every difficulty, and removed every obstruction! All would have applauded my design, and no one would have suffered from it. So much depends on circumstances and forms,” added he, “that in my reign, Carnot would not have dared to write a memorial, boasting of the death of the King, though he did so under the Bourbons. I should have leagued with public opinion in punishing him; while public opinion sided with him in rendering him unassailable.”

CASCADE AT BRIARS.

19th.—My son and I rose very early. Our task had been finished on the preceding day; and as the Emperor could not want me for some time, we availed ourselves of the fineness of the morning to explore the neighbourhood of our abode.

Passing through the valley of James-Town, on the right of our little level height at Briars, was a deep ravine, the sides of which were intersected by numerous perpendicular cliffs. We descended into the ravine, not without difficulty, and found ourselves at the edge of a little limpid streamlet, beside which grew abundance of cresses. We amused ourselves by gathering them as we passed along; and after a few windings we soon reached the extremity of the valley and the streamlet, which are 225closed transversely by a huge pointed mass of rock, from the summit of which issues a pretty cascade, produced from the waters of the surrounding-heights. This water-fall descending into the valley forms the streamlet along which we had just passed, and which rolls sometimes in a rapid stream to the sea. The water of the cascade was at this moment dispersed above our heads in small rain or light vapour; but in stormy weather it rushes forth in a torrent, and furiously dashes through the ravine till it reaches the sea. To us the scene presented a gloomy, solitary, and melancholy aspect; though it was altogether so interesting that we quitted it with regret.

To-day was Sunday, and we all dined with the Emperor; he good humouredly observed that we composed his state party. After dinner the circle of our amusements was not very extensive: he asked us whether we would have a comedy, an opera, or a tragedy. We decided in favour of a comedy, and he himself read a portion of Moliere’s Avare, which was continued by other individuals of the party. The Emperor had a cold, and was slightly feverish. He withdrew early from his walk in the garden, and desired me to see him again that evening, if he should not have gone to bed. My son and I accompanied the rest of the gentlemen to the town; and on our return, the Emperor had retired to rest.

FIRST AND ONLY EXCURSION DURING OUR ABODE AT BRIARS. THE ADMIRAL’s BALL.

20th.—The Emperor, after dictating as usual to one of the gentlemen, called me about five o’clock. He was alone; the rest of the gentlemen and my son having gone to the town, where the Admiral was that evening to give a ball. The Emperor and I walked along the road leading to the town, until we came within sight of the sea and the shipping. On the left, in the depth of the valley, was a pretty little house. The Emperor stood for a considerable time with his glass at his eye, examining the garden, which appeared to be very well cultivated, and in which a group of beautiful children were at play, attended by their mother. We were informed 226that this house belonged to Major Hudson, a resident in the island, the same gentleman who had lent me the Annual Register. The house was situated at the bottom of the ravine which commences in the vicinity of Briars, and near the curious cascade which I have already noticed. The Emperor took a fancy to go down to the house, though it was now nearly six o’clock. The road was extremely steep: we found it longer and more difficult of descent than we had expected; and we reached the bottom of the ravine quite out of breath. We took a survey of the little domain, which had evidently been laid out as the residence of a permanent occupant, and not as the mere temporary abode of a traveller passing to a foreign land; and, after receiving the attentions of the master of the house, and paying a few compliments to the mistress, the Emperor took his leave.

But the evening was already far advanced, and we were very much fatigued; we therefore accepted the horses that were offered us, and speedily returned to our hut and our dinner. This little excursion, and the exercise of riding on horseback, which had been so long relinquished, seemed to do the Emperor good.

He desired that I would go to the Admiral’s ball, in spite of my reluctance to leave him. At half-past eight o’clock he observed that the night was dark, the road bad, and that it was time I had set out. He insisted on my leaving him, and he entered his room, where I saw him undress and retire to bed. He again desired me to go, and I unwillingly obeyed. I left him alone; and thus, for the first time, violated a custom which had become most dear to me.

I proceeded on foot to the town. The Admiral had given great éclat to his ball. It had been talked of for a considerable time before. He wished it to be understood that the entertainment was given solely on our account, and we had been formally invited. Was it most advisable to accept or to decline the invitation? Something might be said on both sides. Political misfortunes did not require that we should assume the appearance of domestic sorrow; it might be proper, and even useful, to mingle cheerfully in company with our 227jailors. We might, therefore, adopt either resolution indifferently. We determined to go. But what sort of conduct were we to observe? Should we assume pride, or employ address? The first might be attended with inconvenience; in our situation every wounded pretension became an insult. In the second there could be no impropriety: to receive marks of politeness as though we were accustomed to them, and as though they were our due, and to overlook any little want of respect, was certainly the wisest course. I arrived at the ball very late, and left it very early. I was much pleased with the entertainment in every respect.

MY CONDUCT WHILE THE EMPEROR WAS AT ELBA.

21st—22nd. The Emperor, who had often questioned me on the line of conduct pursued by many of his ministers, members of his Council, and officers of his Household, during his residence at the Island of Elba, at length called me to account in my turn, saying:—“But you yourself, Las Cases, what did you do after the arrival of the King? What happened to you all that time? Come, sir, make a report on that subject: you know this is my way; and it is the only plan by which we can properly classify what we say, or what we wish to learn. Besides, it will furnish you with another article for your Journal. And, don’t you see?“ added he, jokingly, “your biographers will only have the trouble of extracting; the thing will be all ready written to their hands.”

“Sire,” I replied, “you shall have a literal statement of every thing; though I have but little to say. I commanded, on the 31st of March, the 10th legion of the National Guard of Paris, that of the Legislative Body. We lost, during the day, a considerable number of men. At night I heard of the capitulation; I wrote to the officer next in rank to myself, and transferred to him the command of my legion, informing him that, though in my quality of member of the Council of State I had previously received orders to proceed elsewhere, yet I had not wished to abandon my legion at the moment of danger; but that the event which had just occurred having 228changed the aspect of affairs, I must now proceed forthwith to fulfil new duties.

“At day-break I set out on the road to Fontainebleau, and found myself in the midst of the wrecks of Marmont’s and Mortier’s detachments. I was on foot, but I doubted not I should be able to purchase a horse. I soon, however, discovered that soldiers in retreat are neither just nor civil. At that disastrous moment, my uniform of a National Guard was insulted, and I was myself ill-treated.

“After an hour’s walk, overpowered by the fatigue of the journey, joined to the want of rest which I had experienced for two or three nights previously; seeing around me no face that I knew, and having no hope of procuring a horse, I determined, with a sorrowful heart, to return to the capital.

“The“The National Guard was ordered out to assist in the triumphant entry of the enemy: there was even a probability of its being selected as a guard of honour to the Sovereigns who had conquered us. I determined to be absent from my home. I had conveyed my wife and children safely out of Paris a week or two before, and for a few days had recourse to the hospitality of a friend. I never went out of doors but in a shabby great coat, visiting the coffee-houses and public places, and joining the different groups which were formed in the streets. My object was to make observations on persons and things, and above all, to learn the real feeling of the people. How many extraordinary occurrences did I not witness in the course of my rambles!

“I saw in front of the residence of the Emperor of Russia, men distinguished by their rank, and calling themselves Frenchmen, exerting their utmost endeavours to induce the rabble to call out ‘Long live Alexander, our deliverer!’

“I saw, Sire, your monument on the Place Vendôme resist the efforts of a few wretches, belonging to the lowest dregs of the people, who had been hired by persons of note.

“Finally, in one of the comers of the Place Vendôme, before the hotel of the Commandant of the place, I saw 229one of the officers of your household trying, on the first evening after your departure, to prevail on young conscripts to enter another service than yours; but he received from them a lesson that might have made him blush for his own conduct, had he been capable of feeling shame.

“Doubtless, those to whom I here allude will exclaim that I mingled with the rabble; and yet it may with justice be affirmed that the acts of baseness which then disgraced France did not originate with the rabble. These acts were far from obtaining the countenance of the lower classes of the people; on the contrary, they were decidedly censured by the uprightness, generosity, and nobleness of sentiment, manifested in the public streets. What reproaches might I not convey, were I to repeat all that I heard on this subject!

“Your Majesty abdicated. I had refused my signature to the act of adherence of the Council of State; but I thought I might make amends for this by an additional act of adherence. The Moniteur was every day filled with articles of this kind; mine however was not deemed worthy the honour of insertion.

“At length the King arrived: he was henceforth our sovereign. He appointed a day for the reception of those individuals who had been presented to Louis XVI. I proceeded to the Tuileries to avail myself of this prerogative.—What were my reflections on entering those apartments which had so lately been filled with your glory and power! And yet I presented myself to the King sincerely and in good faith; my foresight never led me even to think of your return.

“Deputations to the King were multiplied beyond number: a meeting of the officers of the naval establishment was proposed. To the person who communicated this fact to me I replied that nothing could be more gratifying to my heart than to join my old comrades, none of whom could entertain sentiments purer than I did; but that the offices I had filled placed me in a peculiar and delicate situation, and that motives of prudence must deter me from appearing where the zeal of a president might lead him to employ expressions 230which I neither could nor would sanction by my opinion or presence.

“Subsequently, however, in spite of my mortification and disgust, I determined, at the solicitation of some friends, to think of something for myself. The Council of State was re-composed; several members of the last Council assured me, in spite of my recent conjectures on that point, that nothing was easier than to retain my office; that they had succeeded merely by an application to the Chancellor of France. I had not courage to venture a moment’s encroachment on his Lordship’s time: and therefore contented myself with writing to acquaint him that I had been Master of Requests to the last Council of State; and that, if that circumstance were not sufficient to exclude me from becoming a member of the new assembly, I begged him to recommend me to the King as a Councillor of State. I observed that I would not advance as claims to favour my eleven years’ emigration or the loss of my patrimony in the King’s cause. At that period I had only done what I then considered to be my duty; which I had at all times, to the best of my knowledge, fulfilled faithfully and to the last moment. This phrase, as may well be supposed, deprived me even of the honour of a reply.

“Meanwhile the new situation of Paris, the sight of the foreign troops, the acclamations of every kind, were more than I could endure; and I adopted the determination of going for a short time to London, where I should meet with old friends, who might afford me all the consolation of which I was susceptible. Then, again, I recollected that I might find in London the same tumult and the same exultation that had driven me from Paris; this proved to be the fact. London was the scene of festivity and rejoicing, to celebrate the triumphs of the English and our humiliation.

“During my stay in London, the marine establishment was re-modelled at Paris, and the Chevalier de Grimaldi, one of my old comrades, whom I had not seen or heard of for a length of time, was appointed a member of the Committee. He called on my wife, and expressed his surprise that I had not put in my claims; observing 231that I was entitled, by law, to return to the corps, or to retire on a certain pension. He advised my wife to bring me to a decision on the subject, and to rely on his friendship; adding that there was no time to be lost. I attached higher value to this mark of attention than to the favourfavour which it was intended to procure me. However, I wrote to the Committee, requesting that, as I was desirous of wearing a uniform to which I had become attached, I might be allowed to enjoy the honorary title of Capitaine de Vaisseau; while at the same time I renounced the pension, to which I did not conceive myself entitled.

“I returned to Paris. The diversity of opinions and the irritation of the public mind were extreme. I had for a long time lived in the greatest retirement. I now confined myself entirely to the domestic circle of my wife and children. Never at any former period of my life did I prove myself a better husband or a better father; and never, perhaps, was I more physically happy.

“As I was one day reading, in the Journal des Debats, an account of a work of M. Beauchamp, I found mentioned the names of several gentlemen who were stated to have assembled on the Place Louis XV. on the 31st March, to excite sentiments in favour of royalty; and my name was among the number. It was in good company, no doubt; but at the same time the statement was untrue; and I should have been considerably lowered in the estimation of many if it had been believed. I wrote to request a correction of the error, which was calculated to render me the subject of congratulations to which I was in no way entitled.

“I observed that it was out of my power at the time to act in the way described, whatever might have been my inclination. As the commander of a legion of the National Guard, I had contracted obligations from which no consideration on earth could free me, &c. I sent my letter to the deputy Chabaud-Latour, one of the proprietors of the Journal des Debats, a man for whom I entertained a great esteem. He declined publishing my letter, purely from good intentions towards me. I then addressed it to the editor; but he refused to insert it on account of difference of opinion.

232“Meanwhile, the state of the public mind indicated an inevitable and speedy catastrophe. Every thing foreboded that the Bourbons would share the fate of the Stuarts. My wife and I used every evening to amuse ourselves in reading Hume’s History of England. We began at Charles I., and your Majesty arrived before we had got to James II.” (Here the Emperor could not repress a laugh.)

“Your Majesty’s advance and arrival,” continued I, “were to us a subject of the greatest astonishment and anxiety. I was far from foreseeing the honourable voluntary exile which it would gain for me in the end; for I was then little known to your Majesty; and circumstances arising out of that event alone brought me here. Had I filled the most trivial post under the King; had I even been a frequent attendant at the Tuileries, which would have been very natural and consistent with propriety, I should not have appeared for a length of time in your Majesty’s presence. Not, indeed, that I should have had any thing to reproach myself with, or that my attachment to you would have been the less sincere; but because I should not have wished to pass for a piece of court furniture, or to seem always ready to offer incense at the shrine of power. I should have awaited an appointment, instead of pressing forward to solicit one. But as it was, I felt myself so much at liberty, every thing about me was in such perfect harmony, that I seemed to form a part of the great event. I therefore eagerly hastened to meet the first glance of your Majesty; I felt as though I had claims on your kindness and favour. On your return from Waterloo, the same sentiments brought me immediately and spontaneously near your person, which I have never since quitted. If I was then attracted by your public glory, I am now attached by your private virtues; and if it be true that the gratification of my feelings then cost me some sacrifice, I now find myself repaid a hundred-fold, by the happiness I enjoy in being able to tell you so.

“It would however be difficult to describe the extreme disgust I felt at every thing during the ten months of your absence. I felt an utter contempt for mankind and 233worldly vanities. Every illusion was destroyed, all interest had vanished. Every thing appeared to be at an end, or to be undeserving of the smallest value. During my emigration, I had received the cross of St. Louis; an ordinance decreed that it was to be legitimated by a new brevet. I had not spirit to put in my claim. Another ordinance directed that the titles bestowed by your Majesty should be sent in to be confirmed; but I felt indifferent with regard to compromising those which I had obtained during the Empire. In fine, I received a letter from the Marine department, informing me that my captain’s commission had just been forwarded thither, and there it still remains.

“Your Majesty’s absence was to me a widowhood, the affliction and grief of which I concealed from no one. But on your return I was repaid for all by the testimony borne by those who surrounded you, and to whom I had previously been scarcely known. At your Majesty’s first levee, the individual who was ad interim at the head of the department of foreign affairs, coming from the presence, took me aside to a window, and told me to go home and prepare, as I should probably have to set out on a journey. He had just, he said, proposed me to your Majesty, adding that he had represented me as a madman, but mad for love of you. I wished to know whither I was to be sent; but that, he said, he neither would nor could tell me. I never heard any thing more of the matter.

“M. Regnault de Saint-Jean d’Angeli placed me on the list of the Imperial Commissioners whom your Majesty sent to the departments, I assured him that I was ready to do any thing; but I observed that I was a noble and an emigrant, and that these two words pronounced by the first comer would be sufficient to annihilate me, in case of necessity, at any time or in any place. He acknowledged the justice of my observation, and relinquished his intention.

“A Senator next solicited that your Majesty would appoint me to the prefecture of Metz, his native town. He requested me to make this sacrifice for only three months, in order, as he said, to conciliate the popular 234mind, and set things to rights. At length Decrés and the Duke of Bassano proposed me as a Councillor of State; and, the third day after your arrival, your Majesty signed my appointment.”

23rd.—The Emperor was still indisposed: he confined himself to his room, and would see nobody. He sent for me at 9 o’clock in the evening. I found him very low-spirited and melancholy. He scarcely spoke to me, and I did not dare to say anything to him. If I regarded his illness as merely physical, it grieved me sincerely:—if he laboured under mental affliction, how much more was I grieved that I could not employ all the resources of consolation with which the heart naturally overflows for those whom we truly love. The Emperor dismissed me in about half an hour.

24th.—The Emperor continued indisposed, and still declined seeing any body. He sent for me to dine with him at a late hour. Dinner was served on a little table beside the sofa on which he was lying. He ate heartily. He said that he stood in need of some sudden revulsion of the constitution, which he should soon obtain; so well did he understand his own temperament. After dinner he took up the Memoirs of Marshal de Villars, which amused him. He read aloud many passages, which revived former recollections, and gave rise to many anecdotes.

THE EMPEROR’S TEMPERAMENT.—RIDING.—NOTIONS OF MEDICINE.

25th.—The Emperor still continued unwell: he had passed a bad night. At his desire I dined with him beside the sofa, which he was unable to leave. He was, however, evidently much better. After dinner he wished to read. He had a heap of books scattered around him on the sofa. The rapidity of his imagination, the fatigue of dwelling always on the same subject, or of reading what he already knew, caused him to take up and throw down the books one after the other. At length he fixed on Racine’s Iphigenia, and amused himself by pointing out the beauties, and discussing the few faults, to be found in that work. He dismissed me at an early hour.

235Contrary to the general opinion, in which I myself once participated, the Emperor is far from possessing a strong constitution. His limbs are large, but his fibres are relaxed. With a very expanded chest, he is constantly labouring under the effects of cold. His body is subject to the influence of the slightest accidents. The smell of paint is sufficient to make him ill; certain dishes, or the slightest degree of damp, immediately take a severe effect on him. His body is far from being a body of iron, as is generally supposed: all his strength is in his mind. His prodigious exertions abroad and his incessant labours at home are known to every one. No sovereign ever underwent so much bodily fatigue. The most remarkable instance of the Emperor’s activity and exertion was his riding post from Valladolid to Burgos, (a distance of thirty-five Spanish leagues) in five hours and a half; that is to say, upwards of seven leagues an hour.^[25] The Emperor had set out accompanied by a numerous escort, in case of danger from the Guerillas; but at every yard he left some of his company behind him, and he arrived at Burgos with but few followers. His ride from Vienna to the Simmering, a distance of eighteen or twenty leagues, is also frequently talked of. The Emperor rode to breakfast at the Simmering, and returned to Vienna immediately after. Napoleon often hunted to the distance of thirty-eight leagues, and never less than fifteen. One day a Russian officer, who had come as a courier from St. Petersburg in the space of twelve or thirteen days, arrived at Fontainebleau at the moment when the Emperor was about to set out on a hunt. By way of a rest, the officer had the honour to be invited to join the hunting-party. He of course accepted the invitation; but he dropped down in the forest, overcome by fatigue, and was not found until after considerable search had been made for him.

236I have known the Emperor to be engaged in business in the Council of State for eight or nine hours successively, and afterwards rise with his ideas as clear as when he sat down. I have seen him at St. Helena peruse books for ten or twelve hours in succession, on the most abstruse subjects, without appearing in the least fatigued. He has suffered, unmoved, the greatest shocks that ever man experienced. On his return from Moscow or Leipsic, after he had communicated the disastrous event in the Council of State, he said:—“It has been reported in Paris that this misfortune turned my hair grey; but you see it is not so (pointing to his head); and I hope I shall be able to support many other reverses.” But these prodigious exertions are made only, as it were, in despite of his physical powers, which never appear less susceptible than when his mind is in full activity.

The Emperor eats very irregularly, but generally very little. He often says that a man may hurt himself by eating too much, but never by eating too little. He will remain four-and-twenty hours without eating, only to get an appetite for the ensuing day. But if he eats little, he drinks still less. A single glass of Madeira or Champaign is sufficient to restore his strength, and to produce cheerfulness of spirits. He sleeps very little and very irregularly, generally rising at daybreak to read or write, and afterwards lying down to sleep again.

The Emperor has no faith in medicine, and never takes any. He had adopted a peculiar mode of treatment for himself. Whenever he found himself unwell, his plan was to run into an extreme, the opposite of what happened to be his habit at the time. This he calls restoring the equilibrium of nature. If, for instance, he had been inactive for a length of time, he would suddenly ride about sixty miles, or hunt for a whole day. If, on the contrary, he had been harassed by great fatigues, he would resign himself to a state of absolute rest for twenty-four hours. These unexpected shocks infallibly brought about an internal crisis, and instantly produced the desired effect: this remedy, he observed, never failed.

The Emperor’s lymphatic system is deranged, and his 237blood circulates with difficulty. Nature, he said, had endowed him with two important advantages: the one was the power of sleeping whenever he needed repose, at any hour, and in any place; another was that he was incapable of committing any injurious excess either in eating or drinking. “If,” said he, “I go the least beyond my mark, my stomach instantly revolts.” He is subject to nausea from very slight causes; a mere tickling cough is sufficient to produce that effect on him.

OUR MODE OF LIVING AT BRIARS.—MY FIRST VISIT TO LONGWOOD.—INFERNAL MACHINE; ITS HISTORY.

26th—28th. On the 26th the Emperor dressed very early: he found himself quite recovered. He wished to walk out, as the weather was very fine; and, besides, his room had not been put in order for three days. We went into the garden, and he chose to breakfast under the arbour. He was in good spirits, and his conversation turned upon many different subjects and persons.

The Emperor’s health being now perfectly restored, he resumed his usual occupation, which, indeed, was his only source of amusement. Reading, dictating, and walking in the garden, filled up all his time during the day. He still occasionally resorted to his favourite path, though the turn of the season, and the change of the moon, had nearly put a stop to our evening walks. The numerous visitors who came to Mr. Balcombe’s house, attracted by the hope of meeting the Emperor, annoyed him very much, and, indeed, compelled him to withdraw himself altogether. We therefore remained shut up in our little dwelling. We at first understood that we should remain at Briars only a few days; but six weeks had passed away, and we had yet heard nothing respecting our removal. All this time the Emperor had been as much confined as he had been on board of the vessel. He had taken only one excursion, which was when he visited Major Hudson; and we afterwards learned that this circumstance had occasioned alarm. It had been whispered about at the Admiral’s ball, and had reached the ears of our high authorities, who were thrown into great consternation by the event.

238The workmen continued their labours at Longwood, which was to be our new residence. The troops who had come with us from England were encamped in the neighbourhood. The Colonel gave a ball, to which we were invited. The Emperor wished me to go, and that I should, at the same time, take the opportunity of inspecting our future abode. I went with Madame Bertrand, in a carriage drawn by six oxen. In this Merovingian equipage we proceeded to Longwood. This was the first opportunity I had had of seeing any part of the island, except the neighbourhood of Briars. The whole road along which we passed presented continued evidences of a great natural convulsion. We saw nothing but huge masses of rock, totally destitute of vegetation. If, at every change of the horizon, we perceived a trace of verdure or a few clusters of trees, yet on a nearer approach, all vanished like the creations of a poet’s fancy; we found only a few marine plants and wild shrubs; or, what was still worse, some wretched gum-trees. These were the only ornaments of Longwood. I returned on horseback about six o’clock. The Emperor put many questions to me concerning our new residence. Finding that I did not speak of it very enthusiastically, he asked at once whether he should gain or lose by the change? I told him what I thought in one sentence. “Sire,” said I, “we are here in a cage; there we shall be in a fold.”

28th.—The Emperor changed his military uniform, which he had put on to go on board the Bellerophon, for a fancy dress coat. In the course of conversation this day the Emperor adverted to the numerous conspiracies which had been formed against him. The infernal machine was mentioned in its turn. This diabolical invention, which gave rise to so many conjectures, and caused the death of so many victims, was the work of the Royalists, who obtained the first idea of it from the Jacobins.

The Emperor stated that a hundred furious Jacobins, the real authors of the scenes of September, the 10th of August, &c., had resolved to get rid of the First Consul, for which purpose they invented a 15 or 16-pound howitzer, which, on being thrown into the carriage, 239would explode by its own concussion, and hurl destruction on every side. To make sure of their object, they proposed to lay chevaux de frise along a part of the road, which, by suddenly impeding the horses, would of course render it impossible for the carriage to move on. The man who was employed to lay down the chevaux de frise, entertaining some suspicions of the job which he had been set upon, as well as of the morality of his employers, communicated the business to the police. The conspirators were soon traced, and were apprehended near the Jardin des Plantes, in the act of trying the effect of the machine, which made a terrible explosion. The First Consul, whose policy it was not to divulge the numerous conspiracies of which he was the object, did not give publicity to this, but contented himself with imprisoning the criminals. He soon relaxed his orders for keeping them in close confinement, and they were allowed a certain degree of liberty. In the same prison in which these Jacobins were confined, some Royalists were also imprisoned for an attempt to assassinate the First Consul, by means of air-guns. These two parties formed a league together; and the Royalists transmitted to their friends out of prison the idea of the infernal machine, as being preferable to any other plan of destruction.

It is very remarkable that, on the evening of the catastrophe, the Emperor expressed an extreme repugnance to go out. Madame Buonaparte and some intimate friends absolutely forced him to go to an Oratorio. They roused him from a sofa where he was fast asleep; one fetched him his sword, and another his hat. As he drove along in the carriage, he fell asleep again, and awoke suddenly, saying that he had dreamed he was drowning in the Tagliamento. To explain what he alluded to, it is necessary to mention that some years previously, when he was General of the army of Italy, he passed the Tagliamento in his carriage during the night, contrary to the advice of every one about him. In the ardour of youth, and heedless of every obstacle, he crossed the river surrounded by a hundred men armed with poles and torches. His carriage was, however, 240soon set afloat; Napoleon incurred the most imminent danger, and for some time gave himself up for lost. At the moment when he now awoke, on his way to the Oratorio, he was in the midst of a conflagration, the carriage was lifted up, and the passage of the Tagliamento came fresh upon his mind. The illusion, however, was but momentary; a dreadful explosion immediately ensued. “We are blown up!” exclaimed the First Consul to Lannes and Bessieres, who were in the carriage with him. They were for stopping the carriage, but the First Consul enjoined them not to do it on any account. He arrived safe, and appeared at the Opera as though nothing had happened. He was preserved by the desperate driving of his coachman. The machine injured only one or two individuals who closed the escort.

The most trivial circumstances often lead to the most important results. The coachman was intoxicated, and there is no doubt that this proved the means of saving the life of the First Consul. The man’s intoxication was so great that it was not until next morning he could be made to comprehend what had happened. He had taken the explosion for the firing of a salute. Immediately after this event, measures were adopted against the Jacobins, who had been convicted of meditating the crime: and a considerable number were banished. They, however, were not the real criminals, whose discovery was brought about by another very singular chance.

Three or four hundred drivers of fiacres subscribed a louis or twelve francs each to give a dinner to the First Consul’s coachman, who had become the hero of the day and the boast of his profession. During the feast, one of the guests drinking to the health of the First Consul’s coachman, observed that he knew who had played him the trick, alluding to the explosion of the machine. He was immediately arrested, and it appeared that, on the very night, or the night preceding the explosion, he had drawn up his fiacre beside a gate, whence had issued the little cart that had done all the mischief. The police proceeded to the place, and it was found to be a coach-yard, where all kinds of vehicles were lent on hire. The 241keepers of the yard did not deny the fact; they pointed out the stall in which the cart stood; it still presented traces of gunpowder. The proprietors declared that they were given to understand the cart had been hired by some Bretons who were concerned in smuggling. The man who had sold the horse, together with every individual who had participated in the affair, were easily traced out; and it was proved that the plot had been formed by the Chouan Royalists. Some active and intelligent men were despatched to their head-quarters in Morbihan. They took no pains to conceal their share in the transaction, and only regretted that it had not succeeded. Some of them were apprehended and brought to punishment. It is said that the chief conspirator afterwards turned Trappist, and sought to expiate his crime by religious austerities.

CONSPIRACY OF GEORGES, PICHEGRU, &C.—THE DUKE D’ENGHIEN.—THE SLAVE TOBY.—CHARACTERISTIC REFLECTIONS OF NAPOLEON.

29th—30th. I find in this part of my manuscript some important particulars respecting the conspiracy of Georges, Pichegru, Moreau, and the trial of the Duke d’Enghien; but, as these subjects recur repeatedly in the course of my Journal, I transfer to another part what occurred here, in order to bring all my information on the above points at once under the eye of the reader.

Mr. Balcombe’s little garden, in which we so often walked, was superintended by an old negro. The first time we saw him, the Emperor, according to his usual custom, desired me to put some questions to him respecting his history; and his answers strongly excited our interest. He was a Malay Indian, and had been forced from his home by the crew of an English vessel, and sold at St. Helena, where he had continued ever since in slavery. His story bore every mark of truth. His countenance had a frank and benevolent expression; his eyes were animated and sparkling. In short his appearance was by no means abject; but, on the contrary, truly prepossessing.

The history of the poor fellow’s misfortunes filled us 242with, indignation; and a few days after, the Emperor expressed a wish to purchase him and send him back to his own country. He mentioned the subject to the Admiral. The latter, at first, defended his countrymen, and declared that old Toby (which was the name of the unfortunate slave) must be an impostor; for the thing was impossible. He, however, enquired into the matter, and, finding that the story was but too true, he participated in the indignation which we expressed, and promised to exert his best endeavours for the fulfilment of our design. When we left Briars for Longwood, poor Toby, sharing the common fate of all earthly things, was soon forgotten; I know not what became of him.

When we were in the garden, the Emperor generally stopped near Toby’s hut, and made me question him respecting his country, the days of his youth, his family, his present situation, &c.: one would have supposed that he wished to study the feelings of the old slave. By the Emperor’s desire, I invariably closed the conversation by giving him a Napoleon.

Toby was very much attached to us; our presence always seemed to fill him with joy. When we entered the garden, he immediately suspended his work, and, resting on his spade, gazed on us with an air of satisfaction. He understood not a word of the conversation that passed between the Emperor and myself; but he always seemed to anticipate, with a smile, the first words I translated to him. He called the Emperor the Good Gentleman: this was the only name he ever applied to him, and he knew him by no other.

I have mentioned the above particulars, because our meetings with Toby were always followed by novel, spirited, and characteristic reflections on the part of the Emperor. The versatility of his mind is well known. Whenever he adverted to the poor slave’s misfortunes, he always took a new view of the subject. I shall content myself with noting down the following remarks:—

“Poor Toby,” said he one day, “has been torn from his family, from his native land, and sold to slavery: could any thing be more miserable to himself, or more 243criminal in others! If this crime be the act of the English captain alone, he is doubtless one of the vilest of men; but if it be that of the whole of the crew, it may have been committed by men, perhaps, not so base as might be imagined; for vice is always individual, and scarcely ever collective. Joseph’s brethren could not bring themselves to slay him; while Judas, a cool, hypocritical, calculating villain, betrayed his Master. A philosopher has affirmed that men are born wicked: it would be both difficult and idle to attempt to discover whether the assertion be true. This, at least, is certain, that the great mass of society is not wicked; for if the majority were determined to be criminal and to violate the laws, who would have the power to restrain or prevent them? This is the triumph of civilization; for this happy result springs from its bosom, and arises out of its nature. Sentiments are for the most part traditionary; we feel them because they were felt by those who preceded us: thus we must look to the development of human reason and of the faculties of mankind for the only key to social order, the only secret of the legislator. It is only those who wish to deceive the people and rule them for their own personal advantage that would desire to keep them in ignorance; for the more they are enlightened, the more will they feel convinced of the utility of laws, and of the necessity of defending them; and the more steady, happy, and prosperous will society become. If, however, knowledge should ever be dangerous in the multitude, it can only be when the Government, in opposition to the interests of the people, drives them into an unnatural situation, or dooms the lower classes to perish for want. In such a case, knowledge would inspire them with spirit to defend themselves, or to become criminal.

“My code alone, from its simplicity, has been more beneficial to France than the whole mass of laws which preceded it. My schools and my system of mutual instruction are preparing generations yet unknown. Thus, during my reign, crimes were rapidly diminishing; while, on the contrary, with our neighbours in England, they have been increasing to a frightful degree. This 244alone is sufficient to enable any one to form a decisive judgment of the respective governments!^[26]

“Look at the United States, where, without any apparent force or effort, every thing goes on prosperously; every one is happy and contented: and this is because the public wishes and interests are in fact the ruling power. Place the same government at variance with the will and interests of its inhabitants, and you would soon see what disturbance, trouble, and confusion, and above all, what an increase of crimes, would ensue.

“When I acquired the supreme direction of affairs, it was wished that I might become a Washington. Words cost nothing; and no doubt those who were so ready to express the wish did so without any knowledge of times, places, persons, or things. Had I been in America, I would willingly have been a Washington, and I should have had little merit in so being; for I do not see how I could reasonably have acted otherwise. But had Washington 245been in France, exposed to discord within, and invasion from without, I would have defied him to have been what he was in America; at least, he would have been a fool to attempt it, and would only have prolonged the existence of evil. For my own part, I could only have been a Crowned Washington. It was only in a congress of kings, in the midst of kings, yielding or subdued, that I could become so. Then and there alone, I could successfully display Washington’s moderation, disinterestedness, and wisdom. I could not reasonably attain to this but by means of the universal Dictatorship. To this I aspired; can that be thought a crime? Can it be believed that to resign this authority would have been beyond the power of human nature? Sylla, glutted with crimes, dared to abdicate, pursued by public execration! What motive could have checked me, who would have been followed only by blessings?——But it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!—How many will hereafter regret my disasters and my fall!—But to require prematurely of me that sacrifice, for which the time had not arrived, was a vulgar absurdity; and for me to have proclaimed or promised it, would have been taken for hypocrisy and quackery: that was not my way.——I repeat, it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!——”

On another occasion, pausing before Toby, he said:—“What, after all, is this poor human machine? There is not one whose exterior form is like another, or whose internal organisation resembles the rest! And it is by disregarding this truth that we are led to the commission of so many errors! Had Toby been a Brutus, he would have put himself to death: if an Æsop, he would now, perhaps, have been the Governor’s adviser; if an ardent and zealous Christian, he would have borne his chains in the sight of God, and blessed them. As for poor Toby, he endures his misfortunes very quietly; he stoops to his work, and spends his days in innocent tranquillity.” Then, after looking at him for a few moments in silence, he turned away and said: “Certainly it is a great step from poor Toby to a King Richard!——And yet,” continued he, as he walked along, “the crime is 246not the less atrocious; for this man, after all, had his family, his happiness, and his liberty; and it was a horrible act of cruelty to bring him here to languish in the fetters of slavery,” Then, suddenly stopping short, he added:—“But I read in your eyes that you think he is not the only example of the sort at St. Helena!” And whether he felt offended at being placed on a parallel with Toby, whether he thought it necessary to raise my spirits, or whatever else might be his reason, he went on with dignity and animation: “My dear Las Cases, there is not the least resemblance here: if the outrage is of a higher class, the victims also possess very different resources. We have not been exposed to corporeal sufferings; or if that had been attempted, we have souls to disappoint our tyrants! Our situation may even have its charms! The eyes of the universe are fixed upon us! We are martyrs in an immortal cause! Millions of human beings are weeping for us: our country sighs, and glory mourns our fate! We here struggle against the oppression of the gods, and the prayers of nations are for us!”—After a pause of a few seconds, he continued:—“Besides, this is not the source of my real sufferings! If I considered only myself, perhaps I should have reason to rejoice! Misfortunes are not without their heroism and their glory! Adversity was wanting to my career! Had I died on the throne, enveloped in the dense atmosphere of my power, I should to many have remained a problem; but now misfortune will enable all to judge of me without disguise.“