ill. All these circumstances had concurred to cause interruptions, which

had engendered disgust; the Emperor had not proceeded further, and could not summon courage to begin again.

I took advantage of what he had just said, to represent to him that to dictate was, for him, the surest, the only remedy against _ennui_, the only way in which he could beguile the tedious hours: and for us, the means of obtaining the inestimable advantage of being put in possession of treasures, in the existence of which the honour and glory of France were equally interested. I urged, that it was of paramount importance that he should continue to write his own history. “Each of us,” said I, "would willingly give his life to obtain it; it was due to his memory, to his family, to us. Where would his son find the events of his father’s life faithfully recorded? What pen could be found equal to the task of retracing them in a manner worthy of the subject? and yet, without such invaluable documents, how many events would be buried with Napoleon, and remain for ever unknown! We who surrounded him formerly, what did we _then_ know? how much had we not learnt here," &c. &c. The Emperor replied that he would continue his Memoirs, and consulted me as to the plan to be followed in digesting them; should they appear as a history? or as annals? He discussed the point for a long time, but without coming to any conclusion.

At dinner he said, “I have to-day been severely reprimanded on account of my idleness; I am therefore going to take to my task again, and embrace several periods at the same time: each of you shall have his share. Did not Herodotus,” said he, looking at me, “give to his books the names of the muses? I intend that each of mine shall bear the name of one of you. Even little Emmanuel shall give his to one of them. I will begin the history of the Consulate with Montholon, Gourgaud shall record the events of some other period, or detached battles; and little Emmanuel shall prepare the documents and materials of the epoch of the coronation.”

MILITARY SCHOOLS.—PLAN OF EDUCATION PRESCRIBED BY THE EMPEROR.—HIS INTENTIONS IN BEHALF OF VETERANS.—CHANGES INTRODUCED IN THE MANNERS OF THE CAPITAL.

Wednesday, 5th.—The Emperor went out at about four o’clock; he had been three hours in his bath, and did not feel well. Yet the weather was delightful; it was like a fine afternoon in Europe. We walked until we came up to the calash, and then took our usual drive. Our conversation turned upon the military school of Paris before the Revolution, and we contrasted the footing of luxury upon which we were placed at that school with the severe discipline introduced by the Emperor in these establishments during his reign.

At the military school of Paris we were treated in every respect like officers of fortune, boarded and waited upon in a style of great magnificence, greater indeed than the circumstances of most of our families warranted, and greater than most of us could hope to be able to keep up in after-life. The Emperor had been anxious, he said, to avoid falling into this error; he had wished, above all, that his young officers, who were one day to command soldiers, should begin by being soldiers themselves, and learn by experience all the technical details of the service: a system of education, he added, which must ever prove an immense advantage to an officer in the course of his future career, by enabling him to follow them and to enforce the observance of those details in others who are placed under his orders. It was on this principle that, at St. Germain, the young students were obliged to groom their own horses, taught to shoe them, &c. The same spirit presided over the regulations at St. Cyr: there several pupils were lodged together in one large apartment, a common mess was provided for all indiscriminately, &c.: yet the attention paid to these particulars was not suffered to interfere with the care bestowed upon the instruction necessary to qualify them for their future career: in short, they did not leave St. Cyr before they had really earned the rank of officers, and were found capable of leading and commanding soldiers. “And it must be admitted,” the Emperor observed, “that if the young men who passed from that institution, at its origin, into different corps of the army, were at first viewed with jealousy, ample justice was soon rendered to their discipline and to their abilities.”

The establishments of Ecouen, St. Denis and others, which the benevolent solicitude of Napoleon had created for the daughters of members of the legion of honour, were conducted upon principles of a similar nature. Some of the rules, made by the Emperor himself, ordered that every article for the use of the institution should be made in the house and by the hands of the pupils themselves, and forbade every species of luxury, extravagance in dress, and plays; the object being, he said, to form good housewives and respectable women.

Public opinion had given to Napoleon, at the time of his elevation, the reputation of a man of a harsh disposition and void of sensibility; yet it is certain that no sovereign ever acted more from the impulse of genuine feelings than he did; but, from a peculiar turn of mind, he concealed all emotions of the heart with as much care as others take to display them.

He had adopted all the children of the soldiers and officers killed at Austerlitz, and with him such an act was not one of mere form; he had provided for them all.

I heard the following anecdote from a young man who has related it to me since my return to Europe, with tears of gratitude. Having been fortunate enough, when yet very young, to attract the Emperor’s notice by some signal proof of his attachment; Napoleon asked him what profession he would wish to embrace; and, without waiting for his answer, pointed out one himself. The young man observed that his father’s fortune was not sufficient to allow him to follow it. “What signifies that?” replied the Emperor hastily: “Am I not also your father?” Those persons who have known Napoleon in his private life, who have lived near his person, can relate a thousand traits of the same kind.

He had done much for the army and the veterans, and proposed to do much more: every day some new thought tending to that object occupied his mind. The plan of a decree was one day laid before us in the Council of State, proposing that in future all vacant situations in the customs, the collection of the revenue, and the excise, should be given to wounded soldiers, or to veterans capable of filling them, from the private up to the highest ranks in the army. This plan being coldly received, the Emperor addressed one of those who opposed it in his usual manner, urging him to discuss the question freely, and state his opinion without reserve. “Sire,” answered M. Malouet, “my objection is that I fear the other classes of the nation will feel themselves aggrieved in seeing the army preferred to them.” “Sir,” replied the Emperor warmly, “you make a distinction which does not exist; the army no longer forms a separate class of the nation. In the situation in which we are now placed no member of the state is exempt from being a soldier; to follow a military career is no longer a matter of choice, it is one of necessity. The greatest number of those who are engaged in that career have been compelled to abandon their own profession against their will, it is therefore but justice that they should receive some kind of compensation for it.”—"But," again observes the member who opposed the plan, “will it not be inferred that your majesty intends that in future almost all vacant situations shall be given to soldiers?”—

“And such is indeed my intention,” said the Emperor. “Sir, the only question is, whether I have the right to do so, and whether I thereby commit an act of injustice? Now the constitution gives me the nomination to all places, and I think it a principle of strict equity that those who have suffered most have the greatest claims to be indemnified.” Then, raising his voice, he added, “Gentlemen, war is not a profession of ease and comfort: quietly seated on your benches here you know it only by reading our bulletins, or by hearing of our triumphs. You know nothing of our nightly watches, our forced marches, the sufferings and privations of every kind to which we are exposed: but I do know them, because I witness them, and sometimes share in them.”

This plan, however, like many others, was at last abandoned, after having been several times under discussion and variously modified; and the beneficent intentions of the Emperor were, I believe, not even known to the public, though he had appeared to take a lively interest in the passing of this decree, and had defended it in its most minute details.

Amongst the objections started against this plan, at the commencement of the discussion, and the arguments to which they gave rise, were the following:—"Would your majesty, for instance, give such situations to a soldier who could not read?"—"Why not?"—"But how would he be able to discharge his duties? how could he keep his accounts?"—"Sir, he would apply to his neighbour, he would send for his relations, and the benefit intended for one would be felt by many. Besides, I do not hold your objection to be valid; we have only to stipulate that the man appointed shall be qualified to fill the situation," &c.

Towards evening, the Emperor sent for me to his own room. I found him alone, near a small fire, but almost in the dark, the lights being placed in the next apartment. This obscurity, he said, was in harmony with his melancholy. He was silent and dejected.

After dinner the Emperor took up the Memoirs of the Chevalier de Grammont, but found himself unable to continue to read them.

A discussion then arose upon the manner in which time was spent in Paris. The habits of society in former times and the present were reviewed. The Emperor said he had thought much and often upon the means of introducing variety into the pleasures of society. He had had assemblies at Court, plays, excursions to Fontainbleau, but they had only produced the effect, he said, of inconveniencing the people at Court without influencing the circles of the metropolis. There was not yet a sufficient degree of cohesion in those heterogeneous parts for them to re-act upon each other with due effect: but this, he affirmed, would have been brought about in the course of time. It was observed to him that he had much contributed to shorten the evenings at Paris, as all persons employed by government, having a great deal to do, and being obliged to rise very early, were under the necessity of retiring early. “It caused, however, great surprise in Paris,” said the Emperor, “produced quite a revolution in manners, and almost stirred up a sedition in the circles of the metropolis, when the First Consul required that boots should be relinquished for shoes, and that some little attention should be bestowed upon dress to appear in company.”

The Emperor dwelt with great pleasure upon the causes of the good-breeding and amiable manners which distinguished society in our younger days. He defined particularly those points which contributed to render intimacy agreeable, such as a slight tinge of flattery on both sides, or, at least, an opposition seasoned with delicacy and politeness, &c.

REPUGNANCE TO PHYSIC.—GIL BLAS.—GENERAL BIZANET.—HEROIC DEEDS OF FRENCH VALOUR.—REFLECTIONS, &C.

Thursday, 6th.—I did not see the Emperor before six o’clock; being indisposed, he had remained in his room, and had not eaten any thing the whole day. He said that he found himself unwell, and was amusing himself by looking over some prints of London which the Doctor had lent him. The Doctor had had the honour of seeing the Emperor in the course of the day, and had made him laugh. “Hearing that I was not well,” said Napoleon, “he claimed me as his prey, by immediately advising me to take some medicine; medicine to me, who, to the best of my recollection, never took any in the whole course of my life!”

It was now past seven: the Emperor said that a man who felt hungry was not very ill. He called for something to eat, and a chicken was brought to him, which he highly relished. This revived his spirits a little, he became more talkative, and made remarks on several French novels. He had been employed the greater part of the day in reading Gil Blas, which he thought full of wit; but the hero and all his companions, he said, had deserved to be sent to the galleys. He then turned over a chronological register, and stopped at the brilliant affair of Bergenopzoom, commanded by General Bizanet.

“How many gallant actions,” said the Emperor, “have been either forgotten in the confusion of our disasters, or overlooked in the number of our exploits. The affair of Bergenopzoom is one of these. A competent garrison for that town would have been probably from eight to ten thousand men, but it did not then contain more than two thousand seven hundred. An English General, favoured by the darkness of the night, and by the intelligence which he kept up with the inhabitants, had succeeded in penetrating into it, at the head of four thousand eight hundred chosen men. They are in the town, the inhabitants are on their side, but nothing can triumph over French valour! A desperate engagement takes place in the streets, and nearly the whole of the English troops are killed or remain prisoners. That is undoubtedly, exclaimed the Emperor, a gallant action! General Bizanet is a gallant officer!”

It is certain, as Napoleon had observed, that, in the last moments of the Empire, numberless heroic deeds and historical traits have been overlooked in the confusion of our disasters, or have disappeared in the abyss of our misfortunes. Such are the extraordinary and singular defence of Huningen, by the intrepid Barbanegre; and the gallant resistance of General Teste at Namur, where, in an open town, with a handful of brave fellows, he stopped short the rapid advance of the Prussians, and facilitated the re-entry of Grouchy, without suffering any loss. Such was the brilliant expedition of the brave Excelmans in Versailles, which might have produced most important results, if it had been supported as it had been decided that it should be; and several others.

At any rate, these noble deeds at that critical period, have shed lustre on the ranks of the army rather than on its principal leaders. It would have been well, if, at the moment of that terrible catastrophe, during that fatal crisis, some of our first generals had again exhibited some of those noble acts of courage, those signal efforts, which marked our first triumphs, and which, under Napoleon’s reign, had become almost a national habit; whatever the result might have been, the attempt would have been a source of consolation to our glory, and France would have contemplated with satisfaction the heroic convulsions of her agony. We ought not to have terminated our career by common actions.

At that calamitous period, we had more troops abroad than at home: Dresden contained an army: a second army was shut up in Hamburg; a third in Dantzick; and a fourth might have been easily collected by bringing together the immense number of our soldiers, which formed several other intermediate garrisons. All the efforts of our enemies tended only to keep these brave troops separated from France, and to cut off their return. Oh! that some one of their leaders had been inspired with the thought to take advantage of those circumstances to liberate the sacred soil, by attacking boldly that of the enemy, and obliging him thus to retrace his steps! Would it have been impossible to unite those different corps?

Would not the union of the garrisons of Dresden, Torgau, Magdeburg, Hamburg, have produced a formidable army in the rear of the enemy, capable of breaking through his line, or of placing him in a most critical situation? Might not such an army have taken possession of Berlin, liberated the garrisons on the Oder, gone to the assistance of Dantzick, raised an insurrection in Poland, so well prepared for it, or, in short, done something bold, striking, unexpected, in a word, worthy of us?

What then was required to give a favourable turn to our destinies? the most trifling event, before the Allies entered France, would have sufficed to enable us to conclude a peace on reasonable terms at Francfort; and, at a later period, when the enemy was already in our own territory, the slightest cause of uneasiness in his rear at the time of the heroic actions of Champaubert, Montmirail, Vauchamp, Craon, Monterau, would probably have determined the hasty retreat of the Allies, and insured our triumph, and perhaps their destruction. And, if the general who had thus dared to devote himself had failed in the attempt, it would not have been the worse for us, since we have ultimately fallen; and he, in the spirit of our national character, would have gained the reputation of a hero and rendered his name immortal.

Instead of this, about one hundred thousand men were lost to France, by tamely adhering to the letter of their instructions; a system which we had long since abandoned. But perhaps I speak inconsiderately and without due knowledge of the subject; perhaps local circumstances and objections of which I am totally ignorant might be adduced as conclusive answers against me; such as the health of the troops, the state of destitution in which they were; the non-reception of orders from the Emperor, who did endeavour to give some orders of that kind; the fear of deranging the main plan; the dread of incurring too great a responsibility, &c. But is it not rather that the source of these high conceptions, and the cause of their heroic execution, were to be found in Napoleon alone, and that where _he_ was not, as it may have been often observed, affairs were suffered to sink to the level of their ordinary course? Be that as it may, something of the kind was however suggested to the General commanding the army in Dantzick, at the time of the capitulation of that town. The idea came from an officer of inferior rank, it is true, but from one whose courage and intrepidity, and the success with which they had been crowned, entitled him perhaps to give such an opinion: it was Captain de Chambure, the leader of that renowned company of partisans which covered itself with glory during the siege. This company had been formed for that particular service, of one hundred picked men chosen out of the most notoriously intrepid, throughout all the corps of the army; it fulfilled, and even exceeded, all the expectations which it had raised; and the besiegers, struck with terror at its exploits, honoured it with the epithet of _infernal_. It would sometimes land at night in the rear of the Russian army, slaughter their sentinels, spike their guns, burn their magazines, destroy their parks, threaten the lives even of the generals, and return to the town through the enemies’ camp over the bodies of all who opposed its passage. These facts and several others are recorded in the general orders of that army.

It cannot be denied that, in ordinary times, in the days that preceded ours, every one of these actions would have been sufficient to immortalize every individual who had a share in them, and that even amidst the wonders of our age they are deserving of particular notice. On his return from Elba, Napoleon was desirous of seeing the brave Chambure, who was covered with wounds: he was accordingly introduced to the Emperor by the Minister of War, and was immediately appointed to the command of a partisan corps on the eastern frontiers of France, where he again shewed himself worthy of his fame. Two English officers fell into his hands in the very heart of France, and at the moment of the violent exasperation produced by the recent disasters which had again befallen us. De Chambure protected these officers from the fury of his own soldiers, and preserved their equipages and even their baggage. Will it be believed? Some time afterwards, this officer, whose courage, loyalty, and above all, whose noble conduct were deserving of the highest recompense, was by a French tribunal condemned to the galleys for life, and to be branded and exposed in the pillory, for having, it was said, stopped and robbed two officers of the enemy’s army on the highway! Such is the justice of party-spirit! Such the monstrous aberrations to which the judgment and the consciences of men can be reconciled by the effervescence of civil commotions!

Under these circumstances, no alternative was left to Colonel de Chambure but a speedy retreat from his own country: it was in vain that from his exile he endeavoured to make the truth known; it was in vain that the two English officers gave the most extensive publicity to the testimonials of their gratitude: a considerable time elapsed before Colonel de Chambure could seize the opportunity of a moment of political calm, to deliver up his person to the tribunals, and call for a revision of his trial.—That revision took place, and this time the result was a declaration that there were not even any grounds of accusation against him! This is indeed one of the peculiar signs of the times!

THE EMPEROR’S IMAGINARY PLANS FOR THE FUTURE.—NAPOLEON LITTLE KNOWN EVEN BY HIS HOUSEHOLD—HIS RELIGIOUS OPINIONS.

From Friday 7th to Saturday 8th.—During a long private conversation, this morning, the Emperor reverted to all the horrors of our present situation, and enumerated all the chances which hope suggested of better days.

After his remarks on these topics, which I cannot repeat here, he gave the rein to his imagination, and said that the only countries in which he could reside for the future were England and America. His inclination, he added, prompted for America, because _there_ he should be really free, and independence and repose were all he now sighed for: then followed an imaginary plan of life: he fancied himself with his brother Joseph, in the midst of a little France, &c. Yet policy, he observed, might decide for England. He was bound perhaps to remain a slave to events—he owed the sacrifice of himself to a nation which had done more for him than he had done for it in return; and then followed another imaginary plan for the future.

In the course of our subsequent conversation, the Emperor could not sufficiently express his surprise at the conviction, which he had obtained, that several of those who surrounded him and formed his Court, believed the greatest part of the many absurdities and idle reports which had been circulated respecting himself, and that they even went so far as to doubt the falsehood of the enormities with which his reputation had been stained.—Thus we believed that he wore armour in the midst of us—was addicted to the superstition of presentiments and fatality—subject to fits of madness or of epilepsy—that he had strangled Pichegru—caused a poor English captain’s throat to be cut, &c. We could not but admit that his invective against us on the occasion was merited; all we could allege in our defence was that many circumstances had concurred to leave those who formerly surrounded his person as much in ignorance on the subject as the bulk of the nation could be. We frequently saw him, I said, but we never held any communication with him: every thing remained a mystery for us. Not a voice was raised to refute, whilst many in secret, and some that were nearest to his person, either through perverseness, or with bad intentions, seemed ever busy in dealing out insinuations. As for myself, I candidly confessed that I had not formed a just idea of his disposition before I came here, although I could congratulate myself that I had certainly guessed him in part. “And yet,” he observed in reply, “_you_ have often seen me and heard me in the Council of State.”

In the evening, after dinner, the conversation turned upon religion. The Emperor dwelt on the subject at length. The following is a faithful summary of his arguments; I give it as being quite characteristic upon a point which has probably often excited the curiosity of many.

The Emperor, after having spoken for some time with warmth and animation, said: “Every thing proclaims the existence of a God, _that_ cannot be questioned; but all our religions are evidently the work of men. Why are there so many?—Why has ours not always existed?—Why does it consider itself exclusively the right one?—What becomes in that case of all the virtuous men who have gone before us?—Why do these religions revile, oppose, exterminate one another?—Why has this been the case ever and every where?—Because men are ever men; because priests have ever and every where introduced fraud and falsehood. However, as soon as I had power, I immediately re-established religion. I made it the ground-work and foundation upon which I built. I considered it as the support of sound principles and good morality, both in doctrine and in practice. Besides, such is the restlessness of man, that his mind requires that something undefined and marvellous which religion offers; and it is better for him to find it there, than to seek it of Cagliostro, of Mademoiselle Lenormand, or of the fortune-tellers and impostors.” Somebody having ventured to say to him that he might possibly in the end become devout, the Emperor answered, with an air of conviction, that he feared not, and that it was with regret he said it; for it was no doubt a great source of consolation; but that his incredulity did not proceed from perverseness or from licentiousness of mind, but from the strength of his reason. “Yet,” added he, “no man can answer for what will happen, particularly in his last moments. At present I certainly believe that I shall die without a confessor; and yet there is one (pointing to one of us) who will perhaps receive my confession. I am assuredly very far from being an atheist, but I cannot believe all that I am taught in spite of my reason, without being false and a hypocrite. When I became Emperor, and particularly after my marriage with Maria Louisa, every effort was made to induce me to go with great pomp, according to the custom of the Kings of France, to take the sacrament at the church of Notre Dame; but this I positively refused to do: I did not believe in the act sufficiently to derive any benefit from it, and yet I believed too much in it to run the risk of committing a profanation.” On this occasion a certain person was alluded to, who had boasted, as it were, that he had never taken the sacrament. “That is very wrong,” said the Emperor; “either he has not fulfilled the intention of his education, or his education was neglected.” Then, resuming the subject, he said, “To explain where I come from, what I am, and whither I go, is above my comprehension; and yet all that is. I am like the watch that exists, without possessing the consciousness of existence. However, the sentiment of religion is so consolatory that it must be considered as a gift of Heaven: what a resource would it not be for us here to possess it! What influence could men and events exercise over me, if, bearing my misfortunes as if inflicted by God, I expected to be compensated by him with happiness hereafter! What rewards have _I_ not a right to expect who have run a career so extraordinary, so tempestuous, without committing a single crime, and yet how many might I not have been guilty of? I can appear before the tribunal of God, I can await his judgment without fear. He will not find my conscience stained with the thoughts of murder and poisonings, with the infliction of violent and premeditated death, events so common in the history of those whose lives have resembled mine. I have striven only for the glory, the power, the greatness of France. All my faculties, all my efforts, all my moments, were directed to the attainment of that object. These cannot be crimes; to me they appeared acts of virtue. What then would be my happiness, if the bright prospect of futurity presented itself to crown the last moments of my existence!”

After a pause, he resumed. "How is it possible that conviction can find its way to our hearts, when we hear the absurd language, and witness the acts of iniquity, of the greatest number of those whose business it is to preach to us? I am surrounded by priests, who repeat incessantly that their reign is not of this world, and yet they lay hands upon every thing that they can get. The Pope is the head of that religion from heaven, and he thinks only of this world. What did the present Chief Pontiff, who is undoubtedly a good, and a holy man, not offer to be allowed to return to Rome! The surrender of the government of the church, of the institution of bishops, was not too high a price for him to give, to become once more a secular prince. Even now, he is the friend of all the Protestants, who grant him every thing, because they do not fear him. He is only the enemy of catholic Austria, because her territory surrounds his own.

“Nevertheless,” he observed again, “it cannot be doubted that, as Emperor, the species of incredulity which I felt was favourable to the nations I had to govern. How could I have favoured equally sects so opposed to one another, if I had been under the influence of any one of them? How could I have preserved the independence of my thoughts, and of my actions, under the controul of a confessor, who would have governed me by the dread of hell? What power cannot a wicked man, the most stupid of mankind, thus exercise over those by whom whole nations are governed? Is it not the scene-shifter at the opera, who from behind the scenes, moves Hercules at his will? Who can doubt that the last years of Louis XIV. would have been very different, had he been directed by another confessor? I was so deeply impressed with the truth of these opinions that I promised to do all in my power to bring up my son in the same religious persuasion which I myself entertain.”

The Emperor ended the conversation by desiring my son to bring him the New Testament; and, taking it from the beginning, he read as far as the conclusion of the discourse of Jesus on the mount. He expressed himself struck with the highest admiration, of the purity, the sublimity, the beauty of the morality which it contained; and we all experienced the same feeling.

PORTRAIT OF THE DIRECTORS.—ANECDOTES.—18TH FRUCTIDOR.

Sunday, 9th.—The Emperor spoke much of the creation of the Directory; he had installed it, being then Commander-in-chief of the Army of the Interior. This led him to review the five Directors, whose portraits and characters he drew. He gave a lively picture of their follies and their faults, and this led him to the events of Fructidor, and furnished many curious particulars. I have collected the following, partly, from some of his desultory conversations, and, partly, from his dictation of the campaigns of Italy.

“Barras,” said the Emperor, "of a good family in Provence, was an officer in the regiment of the Isle of France; at the revolution, he was chosen Deputy to the National Convention for the department of the Var. He had no talent for oratory, and no habits of business. After the 31st of May, he was, together with Freron, appointed Commissioner to the army of Italy, and to Provence, which was then the seat of civil war. On his return to Paris, he threw himself into the Thermidorian party; threatened by Robespierre, as well as Tallien and the remainder of Danton’s party, they united, and brought about the events of the 9th Thermidor. At the moment of the crisis, the Convention named him to march against the _commune_, which had risen in favour of Robespierre; he succeeded.

"This event gave him great celebrity. After the downfall of Robespierre, all the Thermidorians became the leading men of France.

"At the critical period of the 12th Vendemiaire, it was determined, in order to get rid at once of the three Commissioners to the Army of the Interior, to unite in the person of Barras the power of Commissioner and Commander of that army. But the circumstances in which he was placed were too much for him; they were above his powers. Barras had no experience in war, he had quitted the service when only a captain; he had no knowledge of military affairs.

"The events of Thermidor and of Vendemiaire brought him into the Directory; he did not possess the qualifications requisite to fill that situation, but he acted better than was expected from him by those who knew him.

"He kept up a splendid establishment, had a pack of hounds, and his expenses were considerable. When he quitted the Directory, on the 18th Brumaire, he had still a large fortune, and he did not attempt to conceal it. That fortune was not large enough to have contributed in the least to the derangement of the finances, but the manner in which it had been acquired, by favouring the contractors, impaired the public morals.

"Barras was tall; he spoke sometimes in moments of agitation, and his voice filled the house. His intellectual capacity did not allow him to go beyond a few sentences, but the animation with which he spoke would have produced the impression that he was a man of resolution; this however he was not; and he had no opinion of his own upon any part of the administration of public affairs.

"In Fructidor, he formed with Rewbel and La Reveillere Lepaux, the majority against Carnot and Barthelemy; after that event he became to all appearance the most important member of the Directory, but, in reality, it was Rewbel who possessed the greatest influence. Barras always appeared in public the warm friend of Napoleon. At the time of the 30th Prairial, he had the art to conciliate the preponderating party in the assembly, and he did not share the disgrace of his colleagues.

“La Reveillere Lepaux, born at Angers, belonged to the lower ranks of the middling class of society. He was short, and his person was as unprepossessing as can well be imagined; he was a true Æsop. He wrote tolerably well, but his mind was narrow, and he had neither habits of business nor knowledge of mankind. He was alternately governed, according to circumstances, by Carnot or Rewbel. The _Jardin des Plantes_, and the Theophilanthropy, a new religion of which he had the folly to become the founder, occupied all his time. In other respects, he was a patriot, warm and sincere, an honest man, and a citizen full of probity and of learning; he was poor when he became a member of the Directory, and poor when he left it. Nature had not qualified him to occupy any higher station than that of an inferior magistrate.”

Napoleon, after his return from the army of Italy, found himself, without knowing why, the object of the particular assiduity, the marked attentions and flatteries of the Director La Reveillere, who asked him one day to dine with him, strictly _en famille_, in order, he said, that they might be more at liberty to converse together. The young General accepted the invitation, and found, as he had promised, nobody present but the Director, his wife, and his daughter, “who, by the way,” added the Emperor, “were three paragons of ugliness.” After the dessert, the two ladies retired, and the conversation took a serious turn. La Reveillere descanted at length upon the disadvantages of our religion, upon the necessity, however, of having one, and extolled and enumerated the advantages of the religion which he wanted to establish, the Theophilanthropy. “I was beginning to find the conversation rather tedious and dull,” said the Emperor, “when, on a sudden, La Reveillere, rubbing his hands with an air of satisfaction, said to me affectedly, and with an arch look: ‘How valuable the acquisition of a man like you would be to us!—what advantage, what weight would be derived from your name!—and how glorious that circumstance would be to you!—Now what do you think of it?’”—The young General was far from expecting to receive such a proposal; however, he replied with humility, that he did not think himself worthy of such an honour; and his principles being, when treading an obscure path, to follow the track of those who had preceded him in it, he was resolved to act, in the article of religion, as his father and mother had done. This positive answer convinced the high-priest that nothing was to be done; he did not insist, but from that moment there was an end of all his attentions and flatteries towards the young General.

“Rewbel,” said the Emperor, "born in Alsace, was one of the best lawyers in the town of Colmar. He possessed that kind of intelligence which denotes a man skilled in the practice of the bar,—his influence was always felt in deliberations,—he was easily inspired with prejudices—did not believe much in the existence of virtue—and his patriotism was tinged with a degree of enthusiasm. It is problematical whether he did or did not amass a fortune, during the time he was in the Directory; he was surrounded by contractors, it is true,—but, with his turn of mind, it is possible that he only amused himself by conversing with men of activity and enterprise, and that he enjoyed their flatteries, without making them pay for the complaisance which he shewed them. He bore a particular hatred to the Germanic system—he displayed great energy in the assemblies, both before and after the period of his being a magistrate, and was fond of a life of application and activity. He had been a member of the Constituent Assembly, and of the Convention; by the latter he was appointed Commissioner at Mentz, where he gave no proofs of firmness or of military talent; he contributed to the surrender of the city, which might have held out longer. Like all lawyers, he had imbibed from his profession a prejudice against the army.

"Carnot, born in Burgundy, had entered when very young the corps of engineers, and shewed himself an advocate of the system of Montalembert. He was considered by his companions as an eccentric character, and was already a knight of the order of St. Louis at the commencement of the revolution, the principles of which he warmly espoused. He became a member of the Convention, and was one of the committee of public welfare with Robespierre, Barrère, Couthon, Saint-Juste, Billaud-Varennes, Collot-d’Herbois, &c. He was particularly inveterate against the nobility, and found himself, in consequence, frequently engaged in quarrels with Robespierre, who, towards the close of his life, had taken a great many nobles under his protection.

"Carnot was laborious, sincere on every occasion, but unaccustomed to intrigue and easily deceived. He was attached to Jourdan, as Commissioner from the Convention, at the time when Jourdan was employed in relieving the town of Mentz, which was besieged; and he rendered some services on the occasion. In the Committee of Public Welfare, he directed the operations of the war, and was found useful, but he had neither experience nor practice in the military matters. He displayed on every occasion great moral courage.

"After the events of Thermidor, when the Convention caused all the members of the committee of Public Welfare to be arrested, with the exception of himself, Carnot insisted upon sharing their fate. This conduct was the more noble, inasmuch as public opinion had pronounced itself violently against the Committee. He was nominated a member of the Directory after Vendemiaire; but after the 9th Thermidor his mind was deeply affected by the reproaches of public opinion, which attributed to the committee all the blood which had flowed on the scaffold. He felt the necessity of gaining esteem, and, believing that he took the lead, he suffered himself to be led by some of those who directed the party from abroad. His merit was then extolled to the skies, but he did not deserve the praises of the enemies of France; he found himself placed in a critical situation, and fell in Fructidor.

"After the 18th Brumaire, Carnot was recalled by the First Consul and placed in the department of war; he had several quarrels with the Minister of the Finances and Dufrenes the Director of the Treasury, in which it is but fair to say that he was always in the wrong. At last, he left the department, persuaded that it could no longer go on for want of money.

"When a member of the Tribunate, he spoke and voted against the establishment of the Empire; but his conduct, open and manly, gave no uneasiness to the administration. At a later period, he was appointed Chief Inspector of Reviews, and received from the Emperor, on his retiring from the service, a pension of twenty thousand francs. As long as things went on prosperously, the Emperor heard nothing of him: but, after the campaign of Russia, at the time of the disasters of France, Carnot solicited to be employed: he was appointed to command the town of Antwerp, and he behaved well at his post. On his return in 1815, the Emperor, after a little hesitation, appointed him to be Minister of the Interior, and had no cause to repent of having done so; he found him faithful, laborious, full of probity, and always sincere. In the month of June, Carnot was named one of the Commission of the Provisional Government, but being unfit for the place, he was duped.

“Le Tourneur de la Manche was born in Normandy; he had been an officer of engineers before the revolution. It is difficult to explain how he came to be appointed to the Directory; it can only be from one of those unaccountable caprices of which large assemblies so often furnish examples. He was a man of narrow capacity, little learning, and of a weak mind. There were in the Convention five hundred deputies better qualified for the situation; he was however a man of strict probity, and left the Directory without any fortune.”

Le Tourneur made himself the talk and the laughing-stock of Paris; it was said that he came from his department to take possession at the Directory in a cart, with his house-keeper, his kitchen utensils, and his poultry. The wags of the capital marked him, and he was overwhelmed with ridicule. He was made, for instance, to return from the _Jardin des Plantes_, whither he had run immediately on his arrival in Paris, and to give an account of the rare things he had found there; and, on being asked whether he had seen Lacepede,[19] he was surprised that he should have passed it unobserved, declaring that _la Giraffe_ (the camelopard) was the only thing that had been pointed out to him.[20]

Footnote 19:

Professor of Natural History.

Footnote 20:

I have been since told that part of these jokes had nothing to do with Le Tourneur, but related to a man of the name of Letourneux, who was a Minister about that time.

"The Directory was hardly established before it began to lower itself in public estimation by caprices, bad morals, and false measures. The faults and absurdities which it committed daily completed its discredit, and it was lost in reputation almost at the very moment of its formation. Intoxicated with their elevation, the Directors thought it became them to adopt a certain air, and sought to acquire the appearance and manners of _bon ton_. In order the better to succeed, they formed each a little Court, where they received and welcomed the higher classes, hitherto in disgrace, and who were naturally their enemies, and from which they excluded the greatest part of their old acquaintances and former companions, as thenceforward too vulgar. All those who during the Revolution had shown more energy than the members of the Directory, or who had trodden in the same path with them, became odious to them and were immediately kept aloof; and the Directory thus rendered itself ridiculous to one party, and alienated the affections of the other. These five little Courts exacted a greater degree of servility in proportion as they were inferior and ridiculous; but numbers of men were found who could not bring themselves to bend and submit to formalities which the recollection of recent circumstances, the nature of the government and the character of the governors, rendered inadmissible.

"However, all the Directory could do to gain over the saloons of Paris proved of no avail: it did not succeed in acquiring any influence over them, and the Bourbon party was gaining ground. No sooner did the Directors perceive this than they hastily retraced their steps; but it was too late to recover the good-will of the republicans, whom they had estranged by their conduct. This led to a system of wavering, which looked like caprice; no course was laid down to steer by, no object was kept in view, no unity prevailed. The reigns of terror and of royalty were equally objected to; but in the mean time the road which was to lead to the goal was left untried. The Directory thought to put an end to this state of uncertainty and to avoid these perpetual waverings, by striking at one blow the two extreme parties, whether they had deserved it or not: if therefore a royalist, who had conspired or disturbed the public tranquillity, was arrested by their orders, they caused a republican, innocent or guilty, to be arrested at the same moment. This system was nicknamed _The Political Seesaw_, but the injustice and fraud which characterized it entirely discredited the government; every heart was closed; it was a government of lead. Every true and generous feeling was against the Directory.

"Men of business, jobbers and intriguers, by possessing themselves of the springs of government, acquired the greatest influence; all places were given to worthless individuals, to _protégés_, or to relations—corruption crept into every branch of the administration. This was soon perceived, and those who had it in their power to waste the public money could act without fear; the foreign relations, the armies, the finances, the department of the Interior, all felt the pernicious effects of so vicious a system. This state of things soon gathered a storm on the political horizon, and we proceeded with rapid strides to the crisis of Fructidor.

"At that period the measures of the Directory were weak, capricious, and uncertain; emigrants returned to France, and newspapers, paid by foreigners, dared openly to stigmatize the most deserving of our patriots. The fury of the enemies of our national glory exasperated the soldiers of the army of Italy, which declared itself loudly against them; whilst the Councils, in their turn, acting the parts of real counter-revolutionists, spoke of nothing but priests, bells, and emigrants. All the officers of the army, who had distinguished themselves more or less in the departments, in the battalions of volunteers, or even in the regiments of the line, finding themselves thus attacked in their dearest interests, inflamed more and more the anger of their soldiers; the minds of all parties were in a state of effervescence. In a moment of such violent agitation, what measures could the General of the army of Italy adopt? He had the choice of three:

“1st. To side with the preponderating party in the Councils—but it was too late; the army had declared itself, and the leaders of that party, the orators of the Council, by attacking incessantly both the General and his army, had not left him the possibility of adopting that resolution.

2dly. “To embrace the party of the Directory and of the Republic. That was the plainest course, that which duty pointed out, which the army inclined to, and in which he was already engaged; for all the writers who had remained faithful to the cause of the Revolution had declared themselves, of their own accord, the ardent defenders and warm advocates of the army and its commanders.

3dly. “To overpower both factions, by stepping forward boldly and appearing openly in the contest as regulator of the Republic. But notwithstanding the strength which Napoleon felt that he derived from the support of the army, although his character was highly esteemed in France, he did not think that the spirit of the times and public opinion were such as to allow him to take so daring a step. And besides, if this third measure had been that to which he secretly inclined, he could not have adopted it immediately, and without having previously sided with one of the two parties, which appeared at that moment in the political lists. It was absolutely necessary, even in order to form a third party, to side first either with the Councils or with the Directory.

“Thus, of the three measures to be adopted, the third in its execution merged into the two first, and he was entirely debarred from adopting the first of these two by the new formation of the Councils, and by the attacks already made upon him by them.

“These considerations and conclusions,” the Emperor observed, “were the natural result of a deep meditation upon the then existing state of affairs in France. The General had therefore nothing to do but to let events take their course, and second the impulse of his troops. And this view of the subject produced the proclamation to the army of Italy, and the far-famed order of the day of its General.

“‘Soldiers!’ he said, ‘I know that your hearts are full of grief at the calamities of our country; but, if it were possible that foreign armies should triumph, we would fly from the summit of the Alps with the rapidity of the eagle, to defend once more that cause which has already cost us so much blood.’

“These words decided the question; the soldiers, in ecstasy, were for marching at once upon Paris. The rumour of the event spread immediately to the capital, and produced a most powerful sensation. The Directory, which every body considered as lost, which the moment before was tottering alone and abandoned, found itself at once supported by public opinion; it immediately assumed the attitude, and followed the course of a triumphant party, and defeated all its enemies.

“The General of the army of Italy had sent the proclamation to his soldiers to the Directory by Augereau, because he was a Parisian and strongly in favour of the prevailing notions of the day.

“Nevertheless, the politicians of the day made the following surmises: What would Napoleon have done if the Councils had triumphed; if that faction, instead of being overthrown, had, on the contrary, overthrown the Directory? In that case, it appears, that he was determined to march upon Lyons and Mirbel with fifteen thousand men, where he would have been joined by all the republicans from the south and from Burgundy. The victorious Council would not have been more than three or four days without coming to some violent rupture and division: for it is known that, if the numbers of these Councils were unanimous in their proceedings against the Directory, they were far from being so as to the further course they meant to pursue. The leaders, such as Pichegru, Imbert-Colonnes, and others, sold to foreign powers, exerted all their influence to restore royalty and bring about a counter-revolution; whilst Carnot and others sought to produce results quite opposite to these. France would therefore have become immediately a prey to confusion and anarchy, and in that case, all factions would have seen, with satisfaction, Napoleon appear as a rallying point, an anchor of safety, capable of saving them at the same time from the terror of royalty and from the terror of demagogues. Napoleon would then naturally have repaired to Paris, and found himself placed at the head of affairs by the unanimous wish and consent of all parties. The majority of the Councils was strong and positive, it is true, but it was only against the Directors; it would have been divided _ad infinitum_ as soon as they were overturned.

“The choice of three new Directors having openly exposed the true intention of the measures of the counter-revolution, the greatest number of the citizens, in their alarm, were ready to fly to meet Napoleon with the national oriflamme[21] unfurled; for the true counter-revolutionists were after all few in number, and their pretensions were too ridiculous and absurd. Every thing would have given way before Napoleon. Had they called him Cæsar or Cromwell, still he would have marched with a religion, a party, whose ideas were settled and popular; he was master of his soldiers, the coffers of the army were full, and he was in possession of every other means calculated to ensure their constancy and their fidelity. If the question were now to be asked whether Napoleon, in the recesses of his own mind, would or would not have wished affairs to take this turn, we should give our opinion in the affirmative; and we are led to believe from the following fact, that his wishes and his hopes were in favour of the triumph of the majority of the Councils. At the moment of the crisis between the two factions, a secret decree, signed by the three members composing the party of the Directory, asked him for three millions to resist the attack of the Councils, but Napoleon, under various pretences, did not send them, although it would have been easy for him to do so; yet it is well known that it is not consistent with his character to hesitate in money matters.

Footnote 21:

The _oriflamme_ was a flag which was carried before the kings of France.

“Therefore, when the struggle was over, and the Directory took pleasure in acknowledging openly that it owed its existence to Napoleon, it still entertained some vague suspicions that Napoleon had only espoused its cause in the hopes of seeing it overthrown, and of taking its place.

“Be that as it may, after the 18th Fructidor, the enthusiasm of the army was at its height, and the triumph of Napoleon complete. But the Directory, notwithstanding its apparent gratitude, surrounded Napoleon from that moment with numerous agents, who watched his motions and endeavoured to penetrate his thoughts.

"The situation of Napoleon was one of extreme delicacy, although his conduct was so well regulated, and so admirable, that even at this period we can only form mere conjectures on the subject; but to the delicacy of his situation it is that we think we can trace the principal reasons which led to the conclusion of the peace at Campo Formio, to his refusal to remain at the Congress of Rastadt, and finally, to the undertaking of the expedition to Egypt.

“As it always happens in France, immediately after the 18th Fructidor, the party that had been overthrown disappeared on a sudden, and the majority of the Directory triumphed without moderation. It became every thing, and reduced the Councils to nothing.

“Napoleon then felt the necessity of peace, which, putting an end to the present state of affairs, would increase his popularity: he had every thing to fear from the prolongation of war; it might furnish those who should have suspected him ready pretexts for injuring him; or the intention might be to expose him in situations of difficulty, and unite the other generals against him.

“Two of the generals, who enjoyed the greatest reputation at that time, manifested openly their sentiments with respect to the great affair of Fructidor: these were Moreau and Hoche.

“Moreau had declared himself positively against the Directory, and by a line of conduct at once pusillanimous and culpable, he failed in his duty and compromised his honour.

“Hoche was entirely in favour of the Directory, impelled by the impetuosity of his disposition, he marched part of his army upon Paris, and failed by acting with too much precipitation. His troops were countermanded by the influence of the Councils, and he himself was obliged to leave Paris, to avoid being arrested by order of these Councils. Hoche had therefore done nothing to contribute to the success of the 18th Fructidor; on the contrary he had injured the cause by excess of zeal. But he had shown himself a man entirely devoted to the Directory, and the majority of them could rely on him without reserve, although his imprudence had nearly been the cause of their ruin.

“That same majority of the Directory entertained doubts, on the contrary, with respect to Napoleon, who had been the cause of their triumph; they still thought it possible that the General of the army of Italy had calculated that the Directory would fall in the contest with the Councils, and that he might then rise upon its ruins.

“But how could the Directory reconcile that supposition with the acts of the General, who had done every thing to ensure its triumph? for it is evident that without the order of the day of Napoleon, and the address to his army, the Directory would have been undone.

“Some persons, well informed on the subject, seem to think that Napoleon had really not formed a due estimate of the influence which he exercised in France—that he had suffered himself to be misled by the libels and the newspapers in which he was attacked,—and that he had considered the measures which he adopted calculated not to ensure the complete triumph of the Directory, but to produce precisely the effect of rendering him the deliverer and the true support of the republic. The same persons add that when the officers whom Napoleon had at Paris, and letters from every part of France, had informed him that his proclamation had in one moment changed altogether the state of public feeling in the interior, then, and then only, he saw that he had done too much. We are the more ready to adopt this opinion as we cannot understand why Napoleon should have thought of preserving three Directors whom he did not care about. The only one he esteemed (Carnot) was of the opposite party, and we know that he felt indignant at the corruptness and the weakness of the others.

“A man named Bottot, a private agent of Barras, was sent to Napoleon with secret instructions, to endeavour to penetrate his views and to ascertain why he had not sent the three millions of which the Directory had stood so much in need. Bottot found the French General at Passeriano, and began to intrigue right and left with those who surrounded Napoleon; but he found every one warmly attached to the party that had triumphed; and, having some concerns of his own to arrange, he at last, in the course of some private conversations, confessed the secret of his mission and the vague suspicions entertained by the Directory. He had been soon undeceived by the appearance of simplicity which distinguished Napoleon’s establishment, by the frankness of Napoleon himself; and above all by the enthusiasm of the army, and of the whole of Italy in favour of the General. But, even if the suspicion of the Directory had been well founded, it would not have been difficult, with a few marks of attention, and some frank and unaffected conversations, to remove from Bottot’s mind, surrounded as he then was, all cause of umbrage.

“He wrote to Paris that the fears which had been entertained were altogether groundless, and much less to be dreaded than the perverseness of those who wished to excite them. But the three millions, it was objected to him, why were they refused? Napoleon had proved that the order sent by the Directory was mysterious and irregular, and that, encompassed as it was by such rogues as F—— and others, who had already robbed the public exchequer, he had thought it prudent to ascertain the truth; that he had immediately dispatched Lavalette, his confidential aid-de-camp, to Paris, and that, as soon as Lavalette had informed him of the true state of affairs, he was on the point of sending off the three millions, when the fate of the day was decided.”

ENGLISH DIPLOMACY.—LORD WHITWORTH.—CHATHAM.—CASTLEREAGH.—CORNWALLIS.—FOX, &C.

Monday, 10th—The course of our conversation to-day led the Emperor to observe that nothing was so dangerous and so treacherous as official conversations with diplomatic agents of Great Britain. “The English Ministers,” said he, “never represent an affair from their nation to another, but as from themselves to their own nation. They care little what their adversaries have said or say; they boldly put forward what their diplomatic agents have said, or what they make them say, on the ground that, those agents having a public and acknowledged character, faith must be placed in their reports. It is in pursuance of this principle, Napoleon added, that the English Ministers published at the time, under the name of Lord Whitworth, a long conversation between me and Whitworth, the account of which was entirely false.”[22]

Footnote 22:

We who have been at St. Helena, we who have seen and been concerned in the facts alleged by Lord Bathurst, before the parliament of Great Britain, we all can affirm, before God and man, that the British Ministers have on that occasion fully deserved the just reproaches which they incurred at the time of Lord Whitworth. Many Englishmen, who were then at St. Helena, have acknowledged it to us, and have confessed that they blushed for their country!!

That ambassador had solicited an audience of the First Consul, and personal communications. The First Consul, who was himself fond of treating affairs directly, willingly assented. “But this proved for me,” said the Emperor, “a lesson which altered my method for ever. From this moment, I never treated officially of political affairs, but through the intervention of my minister for Foreign affairs. He at any rate could give a positive and formal denial; which the sovereign could not do.

“It is utterly false,” added the Emperor, "that any thing occurred in the course of our personal interview, which was not in conformity with the common rules of decorum. Lord Whitworth himself, after our conference, being in company with other Ambassadors, expressed himself perfectly satisfied, and added that he had no doubt all things would be satisfactorily settled. But what was the surprise of those same Ambassadors, when they read a short time afterwards in the English newspapers the report of Lord Whitworth, in which he charged me with having behaved in the interview with unbecoming violence! We had some warm friends amongst these Ambassadors, and some of them went so far as to express their surprise to the English diplomatist, observing to him that his report was very different from what he had said to them immediately after the conference. Lord Whitworth made the best excuse he could, but persisted in maintaining the assertions of the official document.

“The fact is,” said the Emperor, “that every political agent of Great Britain is in the habit of making two reports on the same subject; one public and false for the ministerial archives, the other confidential and true for the Ministers themselves, and for them alone; and when the responsibility of Ministers is at stake, they produce the first of these documents, which, although false, answers every purpose, and serves to exonerate them. And thus it is,” added the Emperor, "that the best institutions become vicious, when they are no longer founded on morality, and when their agents are only actuated by selfishness, pride, and insolence. Absolute power has no need of disguise; it is silent: responsible governments, being obliged to speak, have recourse to artifice, and lie with effrontery.

"It is, however, a circumstance worthy of remark, that, in my great struggle with England, the government of that country has constantly contrived to attach so much odium to my person and actions; and that they have so impudently exclaimed against my despotism, my selfishness, my ambition, and my perfidy, when they alone were guilty of all they dared to lay to my charge. A very strong prejudice must have existed against me, I must have been indeed very much to be feared, since people could suffer themselves to be thus deceived. I can understand it from Kings and Cabinets, their existence was at stake; but from the people!!...

"The British Ministers spoke incessantly of my duplicity; but could any thing be compared to their Machiavelism, their selfishness, during the existence of disorders and convulsions, which were kept alive by them?

"They sacrificed unfortunate Austria in 1805, merely to escape the invasion with which I threatened them.

"They sacrificed her again in 1809, to be more at liberty to act in the Peninsula.

"They sacrificed Prussia in 1806, in the hopes of recovering Hanover.

"They did not assist Russia in 1807, because they chose rather to seize distant colonies, and because they were attempting to take possession of Egypt.

"They gave to the world the infamous spectacle of bombarding Copenhagen in time of peace, and lying in ambush to steal the Danish fleet. They had already once before exhibited a similar spectacle by seizing, like highway robbers, also in time of peace, four Spanish frigates laden with rich treasures.

"Lastly, during the war in the Peninsula, where they endeavoured to prolong the existence of anarchy and confusion, their principal object was to traffic with the wants and the blood of the Spanish nation, by obliging it to purchase their services and their supplies at the expense of gold and concessions.

"Whilst all Europe, through their intrigues and their subsidies, was bathed in blood, they were only intent upon providing for their own safety, gaining advantages for their trade, and obtaining the sovereignty of the sea and the monopoly of the world. As for myself, I had never done any thing of the kind, and, until the unfortunate business with Spain, which after all is not to be compared with the affair of Copenhagen, I can say that my morality was unimpeachable. My actions had perhaps been dictatorial and peremptory, but never disgraced by perfidy. Who can be surprised, after all this, if, in 1814, although England had really been the deliverer of Europe, not a single Englishman could show himself on the Continent without meeting at every step with maledictions, hatred, and execrations? Who can ask how this happened? Every tree bears its own fruit; we reap only what we have sown; and such was necessarily the infallible result of the misdeeds of the English Government, the tyranny and the insolence of the Ministers in London, and of their agents all over the globe.

"For the last fifty years the administrations of Great Britain have gradually declined in consideration and in public estimation. Formerly, the struggle for power was between great national parties, characterised by grand and distinct systems; but now we see only the bickerings of one and the same oligarchy, having constantly the same object in view, and whose discordant members adjust their differences by compromise and concessions: they have turned the Cabinet of St. James’s into a shop.

"The policy of Lord Chatham was marked by acts of injustice, no doubt; but at least he proclaimed them with boldness and energy; they had a certain air of grandeur. Pitt introduced into the Cabinet a system of hypocrisy and dissimulation. Lord Castlereagh, the self-styled heir of Pitt, has brought into it the extreme of every kind of turpitude and immorality. Chatham gloried in being a merchant; Lord Castlereagh, to the serious injury of his nation, has indulged himself in the satisfaction of acting the _fine gentleman_; he has sacrificed his country to fraternise with the great people of the continent, and from that moment has united in his person the vices of the saloon with the cupidity of the counting-house; the duplicity and obsequiousness of the courtier with the haughtiness and insolence of the upstart. The poor English constitution is in imminent danger. What a difference between such men and the Foxes, the Sheridans, and the Greys, those splendid talents, those noble characters of the Opposition, who have been the objects of the ridicule of a victorious oligarchy!

“Lord Cornwallis,” said the Emperor, "is the first Englishman who gave me, in good earnest, a favourable opinion of his nation; after him Fox, and I might add to these, if it were necessary, our present Admiral (Malcolm).

"Cornwallis was, in every sense of the word, a worthy, good, and honest man. At the time of the treaty of Amiens, the terms having been agreed upon, he had promised to sign the next day at a certain hour; something of consequence detained him at home, but he pledged his word. The evening of that same day, a courier arrived from London proscribing certain articles of the treaty, but he answered that he had signed, and immediately came and actually signed. We understood each other perfectly well; I had placed a regiment at his disposal, and he took pleasure in seeing its manœuvres. I have preserved an agreeable recollection of him in every respect, and it is certain that a request from him would have had more weight with me, perhaps, than one from a crowned head. His family appears to have guessed this to be the case; some requests have been made to me in its name, which have all been granted.

"Fox came to France immediately after the peace of Amiens. He was employed in writing a history of the Stuarts, and asked my permission to search our diplomatic archives. I gave orders that every thing should be placed at his disposal. I received him often. Fame had informed me of his talents, and I soon found that he possessed a noble character, a good heart, liberal, generous, and enlightened views. I considered him an ornament to mankind, and was very much attached to him. We often conversed together upon various topics, without the least prejudice; when I wished to engage in a little controversy, I turned the conversation upon the subject of the infernal machine; and told him that his ministers had attempted to murder me; he would then oppose my opinion with warmth, and invariably ended the conversation by saying, in his bad French, ‘First Consul, pray take that out of your head.’ But he was not convinced of the truth of the cause he undertook to advocate, and there is every reason to believe that he argued more in defence of his country, than of the morality of its ministers."

The Emperor ended the conversation, by saying: “Half a dozen such men as Fox and Cornwallis would be sufficient to establish the moral character of a nation.... With such men I should always have agreed; we should soon have settled our differences, and not only France would have been at peace with a nation at bottom most worthy of esteem, but we should have done great things together.”

HISTORY OF THE CONVENTION BY LACRETELLE.—STATISTICAL NOTICE OF THE OXEN OF THE ISLAND.—PUNS.—STATISTICS IN GENERAL.

Tuesday, 11th.—This has been one of those days of wind and rain so common here. The Emperor, about three o’clock, took advantage of a short interval to visit the garden. He sent for me; he had just been reading the history of the Convention by Lacretelle. It is, he observed, certainly not ill-written; but it is ill-digested, and makes no impression on the memory; the whole is a smooth surface without a single asperity to arrest attention. He does not thoroughly examine his subject: he has not done justice to many celebrated characters; he gives no adequate colouring to the crimes of several others, &c.

The rain obliged us to return, and we walked alone for a long time in the saloon and the dining room.

We had been informed, that there were four thousand oxen in the island, and that the annual consumption consisted of five hundred, of which number one hundred and fifty were appropriated to us, fifty to the colony, and three hundred to the shipping. It was added, that four years were requisite for the reproduction of the stock, and this formed a subject for our calculations; an employment for which the Emperor’s peculiar taste is well known.

The subsistence and consumption of these oxen are an important affair in the island. A single beast cannot be killed without the previous order of the governor, and it was stated by one of our people, that the owner of one of the houses or huts of the island, speaking to him on the subject, said: “It is reported, that you complain up yonder, and consider yourselves badly off; (he spoke of Longwood) but we are at a loss to make it out; for it is said that you have beef every day, while we cannot get it but three or four times a year, and even then we pay for it at the rate of fifteen or twenty pence a pound.” The Emperor, who laughed heartily at the story, observed, “You ought to have assured him, that it cost us more than a crown.”

I observed some time afterwards, that it was the only pun I had till then heard from the Emperor’s mouth, but the person to whom I made the remark, said he had heard of his having made a similar one, and on the same subject, in the isle of Elba. A mason employed in some buildings, which were to be constructed by the Emperor’s order, had fallen and hurt himself; the Emperor wishing to encourage him, assured him, that it would be of no consequence. “I have had,” said he, “a much worse fall than yours; but look at me, I am on my legs, and hearty, for all that.”

The Emperor’s attention was for a moment directed to political statistics. He highly extolled the progress and utility of that new science, so well adapted, he observed, to point out the path of truth, to establish and confirm opinions. He called it the _budget of things_, and “without budget,” said he gaily, “there is no safety.”

The singular application of the science by an Englishman or German, who had the patience and resolution to ascertain the number of times each letter of the alphabet occurred in the Bible, was then noticed by a person present. He also mentioned another application of it, less dull, but not less singular. It was that made by a German, eighty years of age, who amused himself with calculating what he might have eaten, during his life, in beef, mutton, poultry, vegetables, &c. as well as what he had drunk. The estimate comprehended immense droves, flocks, and accumulations of all sorts. The public market-place was incapable of containing all he had devoured. This minute applicant of the science did not stop there. He had the curiosity to inquire how often he might have again swallowed the same things. For, he judiciously observed, their transmutation in his person ought necessarily to have contributed to their reproduction. The Emperor laughed much at the calculation, and more particularly at the whimsical repetition of the same eatables.

CHARACTERS. BAILLI, LAFAYETTE, MONGES, GRÉGOIRE, &C.—ST. DOMINGO.—SYSTEM TO BE FOLLOWED.—DICTATIONS ON THE CONVENTION.

June 12th.—We have had three days of horrible weather, when a moment that promised to continue fine, induced the Emperor to take an airing in his carriage. He had just finished reading the History of the Constituent Assembly, by Rabeau de St. Etienne. He entertained very nearly the same opinion of this writer as of Lacretelle. He then took occasion to notice several characters.

“Bailli,” he said, “was not a bad man, but unquestionably a miserable politician. Lafayette was another simpleton, and by no means formed for the eminent character he wished to represent. His political simplicity was such, that he could not avoid being the constant dupe of men and things. His breaking up of the chambers on my return from Waterloo, was my ruin. Who could have persuaded him, that I had arrived merely for the purpose of dissolving them;—I, whose only safety was centred in them?”

One of the party saying, by way of excuse or extenuation; “It was, however, sire, the same man, who, treating afterwards with the allies, was filled with indignation at their proposal of delivering up your Majesty, and eagerly asked, if it was to the prisoner of Olmutz they dared to address themselves?”—"But, sir," replied the Emperor, “you run from one subject to another, or rather, you concur with, instead of opposing, my opinion. I have not attacked the sentiments or intentions of M. de Lafayette; I have only complained of their fatal results.”

The Emperor then continued, in the same way, to review the leading men of that period. He dwelt at considerable length on the affair of Favras, &c.

“For the rest,” observed the Emperor, "nothing was more common than to find men of that epoch quite the reverse in character of that which their words and actions seemed to establish. Monges, for instance, might be considered a terrible man. When war was resolved upon, he declared from the tribune of the Jacobins, that he would give his two daughters in marriage to the two first soldiers who might be wounded by the enemy. This he was at liberty to do, in the strict sense of the gift, as far as it respected himself; but he maintained, that others should be compelled to follow his example, and that all the nobility should be put to death, &c. Yet Monges was one of the mildest and weakest men living, and would not have suffered a chicken to be killed, if he had been obliged to do it himself or to see it done. This furious republican, as he believed himself, cherished, however, a kind of worship for me, which he pushed to adoration. He loved me, as a man loves his mistress.

"Grégoire, whose animosity to the clergy, whom he wished to bring back to their original simplicity, was so great that he might have passed for a champion of irreligion, may be mentioned as another instance; yet Grégoire, when the revolutionists were denying their God, and abolishing the priesthood, was very near being massacred in mounting the tribune, for the purpose of boldly declaring his religious sentiments, and protesting that he would die a priest. At the very moment when the work of destruction was going on in all the churches against the altars, Grégoire erected one in his own apartment, and said mass there every day. This man’s lot, however, is decidedly cast. If he be driven from France, he must take refuge in St. Domingo. The friend, the advocate, the eulogist of the negroes will be a god, or a saint, among them."

St. Domingo naturally became the next subject of our conversation. I had, in my younger days, seen that colony in its most flourishing state. The Emperor put many questions to me, and made himself acquainted with all the circumstances relating to that remote period. When his enquiries were over, he said, “I shall, no doubt, astonish you: but I am convinced, even from your own statements, that the island has not, at this moment, lost a third, certainly not one half of its value, and that, in a short time, it will recover all its former prosperity.”

I should not, in reality, be surprised at it; for all the absurd stories, circulated in Europe respecting France, ought to put us on our guard against those which might be safely told with regard to St. Domingo.

The Emperor said that, after the restoration, the French government had sent out emissaries and proposals which were laughed at by the negroes. “As to myself,” he added, “on my return from Elba, I would have settled all differences with them; I would have recognized their independence, contented myself with some factories, like those on the coast of Africa, endeavoured to draw them closer to the mother country, and to establish a kind of family intercourse with them, which might, in my opinion, have been easily accomplished.”

“I have to reproach myself with the attempt made upon the colony during the consulship. The design of reducing it by force was a great error. I ought to have been satisfied with governing it through the medium of Toussaint. Peace with England was not sufficiently consolidated, and the territorial wealth I should have acquired by its reduction would have served but to enrich our enemies.” He had, he observed, the greater reason to reproach himself with this fault, because he had foreseen its failure, and it was executed against his inclination. He had solely yielded to the opinion of the council of state and his ministers, hurried along, as they were by the clamours of the colonists, who formed a considerable party at Paris, and were, besides, he said, either nearly all royalists or in the pay of the English faction.

The Emperor assured us, that the army which had been sent out consisted but of sixteen thousand men, and was quite sufficient. The failure of the expedition was solely to be attributed to accidental circumstances, such as the yellow fever, the death of the Commander-in-chief, but above all to his blunders, a new war, &c.

“The arrival of the Captain General Leclere,” said the Emperor, "was followed by complete success, but he had not the skill to ensure its continuance. Had he followed the secret instructions which I drew up for him myself, he would have saved many lives and spared himself great mortifications. I ordered him, among other things, to associate with himself men of colour, that he might the better keep the Blacks in subjection; and, as soon as he had reduced the Colony, to send to France all the black Generals and superior officers, to be placed at the disposal of the minister at war, who would have employed them in their respective ranks. This measure, which would have deprived the Negro population of its chiefs and its leaders, would have been a decisive stroke, without wounding in their persons the military laws and regulations. But Leclere did just the contrary: he kept down the people of colour, and bestowed his confidence on the black Generals. In consequence, as it might naturally be expected, he was duped by the latter, found himself beset with difficulties, and the Colony was lost. At first, he would not send to France Toussaint, who had filled a distinguished post there; but after some time he found himself obliged to order his apprehension and to send him prisoner to us. Malevolence did not fail to paint this act under the odious colours of tyranny and perfidy, representing Toussaint as an innocent victim deserving of the deepest interest; and yet he was eminently criminal.

"Toussaint was not a man destitute of merit; though certainly he was not what people attempted to describe him at the time. His character, besides, was ill calculated to inspire real confidence; he had given us serious causes of complaint. We must always have distrusted him.[23] He was chiefly guided by an officer of engineers or artillery, director of the fortifications of St. Domingo. (Colonel Vincent). That officer had come to France before Leclere’s expedition, and conferences were, for a long time, held with him. He exerted himself very much to prevent the attempt, and described with great precision, all its difficulties, without pretending, however, that it was impossible." The Emperor thought that the Bourbons might succeed in reducing St. Domingo if they employed force; but on that subject the result of arms was not to be calculated upon; it was rather the result of commerce and of grand political views. Three or four hundred millions of capital transferred from France to a remote country; an indefinite period for reaping the fruits of such a sacrifice; the very great certainty of seeing them engrossed by the English, or swallowed up by revolutions, &c.: those were the points for consideration. The Emperor concluded with saying, "The colonial system, which we have witnessed, is closed for us, as well as for the whole continent of Europe; we must give it up, and henceforth confine ourselves to the free navigation of the seas, and the complete liberty of universal exchange.”

Footnote 23:

The “Memoires de Napoleon” (published at Paris by Bossange, in 1823) contain notes by the Emperor on a history of St. Domingo, which furnish precise and curious particulars respecting the expedition against that colony, the causes which led to the undertaking, to its failure, &c.

The History of the Convention, of which Napoleon had already expressed his disapprobation, again presented itself to his thoughts; he was far from being satisfied with Lacretelle. “Sentences in abundance,” he repeated, “and but little colouring, no depth: he is an academician, but in no respect a historian.” He made me call my son, and dictated the two following notes, of which I give a literal copy, however imperfect they may be, for he never read them a second time. Every thing that comes from him is, in my opinion, valuable.

NOTE I.

"The Convention, called by a law of the Legislative Assembly to give a new constitution to France, decreed the Republic; not that the most enlightened did not think the republican system incompatible with the existing state of manners in France, but because the Monarchy could not be continued without placing the Duke of Orleans on the throne, which would have alienated a great part of the nation.

"An executive power, consisting of five ministers, was established by the Convention for conducting the affairs of the republic.

"Two parties contended for the ascendancy in the National Convention: that of the _Girondists_, composed of men who had influenced the Legislative Assembly, and that of the _Mountain_, formed by the Commune of Paris, which had directed the atrocities of the 10th of August and the 2d of September, and commanded the population of the capital.

"Vergniaud, Brissot, Condorcet, Guadet, and Roland, were the leaders of the Girondists; Danton, Robespierre, Marat, Collot d’Herbois, and Billaud-Varennes, headed the Mountain. These two parties were alike indebted for their rise to the principles of the revolution. Their conductors sprang out of the popular societies which they had successively rendered subservient to their views.

"The party of the Girondists was more powerful in talents, and was eminently popular in the great provincial towns, particularly at Bourdeaux, Montpellier, Marseilles, Caen, Lyons, &:c.

"The party of the Mountain possessed more energy and enthusiasm, and was not less popular in the capital and among the clubs of the departments.

"The Girondist party, which, in the Legislative Assembly, had been the most ardent for the Revolution, became, in the Convention, the most moderate; because it had to contend there with a faction much more violent than itself, which had not found its way into the Assembly.

"The Girondists called their adversaries the faction of September, and constantly reproached them with the horrible massacre of which they were guilty. They accused them of being hostile to a national assembly, and of endeavouring to transfer the government of France to the Commune of Paris; but by these means the Girondists only excited against themselves the Jacobins of all the departments.

"On its side, the Commune of Paris (the Mountaineers) stigmatized the Girondists by the name of the federalists, and charged them with the design of establishing a federative system in France similar to that of Switzerland. They also accused them of endeavouring to stir up the provinces against the capital, and thus held them up to the detestation of the people of Paris, which could maintain its splendour only by the union and unity of the whole of the territory. When the Girondists inveighed against the Mountaineers for the massacres of the 2nd of September, the latter reproached the former with having, during the Legislative Assembly, rashly and without cause, declared war against all Europe.

"The Girondists, at first, appeared to have the upper hand in the Convention, and they directed that Marat should be brought to trial, and that proceedings should be instituted against the assassins of September. But Marat, supported by the Jacobins and the Commune of Paris, was acquitted by the revolutionary tribunal, and returned in triumph to the bosom of the assembly.

"The trial of the King had been another apple of discord. The two parties seemed to proceed in unison, and voted, it is true, for his death; but the greater part of the Girondists also voted for an appeal to the people; and here it is difficult to comprehend the reason of their conduct during that crisis. If they wished to save the king, they were at liberty to do so; they had only to vote for deportation, exile, or the adjournment of the question; but to sentence him to death and make his fate depend upon the will of the people, was, in the highest degree, absurd and impolitic. They seemed to be desirous, that after the extinction of the monarchy, France should be torn to pieces by civil war.

"The general opinion ever since the commencement of the revolution, that the most audacious and unreasonable faction would always predominate, was from that moment verified. The Girondists, however, maintained the contest with courage, and very often had majorities in the assembly during all the months of March, April, and May. But the party of the Mountaineers had recourse, in these circumstances, to an expedient which it had constantly employed. On the 31st of May, the fate of the Girondists was decided by an insurrection of the sections of Paris. Twenty-seven were arrested, brought before the revolutionary tribunal, and sentenced to death; seventy-three were thrown into prison, and from that period the triumphant Mountain had no obstacles to encounter in the Convention. Several Girondist deputies took refuge, however, at Caen, and there raised the standard of insurrection. Lyons, Marseilles, Bordeaux, Montpellier, and several towns of Brittany, embraced cause of this party, and also took up arms against the the Convention.

"All these unconnected efforts were of no avail against the capital, and the Mountain remained in tranquil possession of the national tribune. A circumstance altogether singular contributed to confirm the preponderance of Paris. It was the assignats, then the only resource for supplying the treasury; not a single tax was then paid.

"The provinces learnt with considerable emotion the event of the 31st of May, and the death of the most celebrated of the Girondist party. The armies were not agitated by these results; they took no share in the insurrections of some provinces, and remained all attached to the Convention and the dominant party at Paris.

"When the partial insurrection of certain towns in favour of the Girondists was known, all the armies had already taken the oath and testified their adhesion to the Mountain; besides, in the eyes of Frenchmen, Paris was France. Neither did the departments of Alsace, la Moselle, Flanders, Franche Comté, and Dauphiné, where the principal forces of the republic were quartered, sympathize in the feelings of the federalist towns.

“The 31st of May deprived France of men of great talents, zealously attached to liberty, and the principles of the revolution. The catastrophe might afflict the well disposed, but could not surprise them. It was impossible for an assembly, which had extricated France from the critical situation to which she was reduced, to carry on public business with two parties so inveterately and irreconcileably opposed. It was necessary for the safety of the republic that one should extinguish the other, and there can be no doubt that, had the Girondists obtained the victory, they would have consigned their adversaries to the scaffold.”

Here the Emperor, who had dictated in his usual way, from memory alone, without any research, whether he was dissatisfied with the task he had executed, or for some other reason, stopped short, for the purpose, as he said, of recommencing a new dictation on the same subject.

NOTE II.

"The Convention was established in September, 1792, and terminated in October, 1795, Its reign, which lasted nearly three years, presents four eras.

"The 1st, from its commencement to the 31st of May 1793—epoch of the destruction of the Girondists.

"The 2nd, to March 1794—overthrow of the Commune of Paris.

"The 3rd, to July, 1794—fall of Robespierre.

"The 4th to the 14th Vendémiaire (4th October, 1795)—installation of the Government of the Directory.

"Its _first era_ consisted of eight months, its second of ten, its third of four, its fourth of fourteen. Total, three years.

"During its first era the Convention was constantly divided between the parties of the Mountain and the Gironde.

"Danton, Robespierre, Marat, Collot-d’Herbois, Billaud-Varennes, Carnot, Heraut de Sechelles, were the leaders of the party of the Mountain.

"Brissot, Condorcet, Vergniaud, Gaudet, Gensonnè, Péthion, Lasource, Barbaroux, headed the party of the Gironde.

"The two parties were equally hostile to the Bourbons and the royalists.

"The men of the first were distinguished for superior energy, those of the second for superior talents. They were both the partisans of a republican establishment. The Mountaineers were desirous of a Republic, for the purpose of destroying what was in existence before the Revolution, both men and things. The Girondists were animated by the infatuation of youthful feeling, which presented at once Athens and Rome to their view, and revived recollections of sublime antiquity.

"The existence of the mountaineers may be dated from the time of the Constituent Assembly. They were the firebrands of the clubs so generally known by the name of Jacobin. The insurrection of the Field of Mars was planned by them.

"This party did not obtain admission into the Constituent and Legislative Assemblies.

"The Girondists, who predominated in the legislative, were hostile to the Constitution of 1794 and to the King. They would not undertake his defence, and suffered him to be sacrificed to the efforts of the Mountain, which, however, was also their enemy. It was the Mountaineers who caused the atrocities of the 20th of June, of the 10th of August, and of the 2nd of September; they had then no party in the assembly; but they compelled the Girondists to join them after their victory.

"The _first era_ of the Convention presents the struggle of the Girondists and Mountaineers; the Girondists prevailed at that time in consequence of their superior talents, their eloquence, and their already acquired reputation. The presidents were nearly all Girondists; they charged the Mountain with the design of destroying the National Assembly, and substituting in its place a Parisian Dictatorship. They also reproached it with the massacre of September.

"The Mountain, in its turn, charged them with wishing for a federative republic like Switzerland, with being hostile to the capital, and with having, without cause, placed the republic in a state of warfare with the whole of Europe.

"The Mountain had at its command the Jacobins of Paris, and the greatest part of the popular societies of the republic; the commune of Paris, the sections, the revolutionary tribunal, and the lower classes of the people of the capital were devoted to its interests.

"The Girondists possessed great influence over the departments in general and the enlightened part of the nation; their partizans were more numerous among the upper class of society. The Girondists, who had occupied the left side in the Legislative Assembly, and had shewn such animosity against the King, the ministers, and the right side, or moderate party, were forced to shift places, and become in their turn the right side or moderate party, opposed to the vehement and overbearing Mountain, which henceforth formed the left side.

"The Mountaineers, working on the plan they had adopted under the Constituent Assembly, enlisted all the passions in their service, and demanded, with loud cries, the death of the King. The Girondists might, by openly defending him, have preserved his life; they had recourse to the singular system of condemning him, and, after having thus destroyed the monarchy, they wished the sentence to be confirmed by an appeal to the people: in other words, they wished to destroy France by the horrors of a civil war. This false combination ruined them.—Vergniaud, one of the pillars of their party, proclaimed the sentence of death passed upon the King.

"The Girondists were so powerful in the Assembly, that several months’ labour and several days’ insurrection were necessary to destroy their influence in the Convention.

"This party would have governed the Convention and crushed the Mountain, had its system of conduct been more direct and candid. The metaphysicians had too weighty a preponderance in it.

"The _second era_ of the Convention is the reign of the Mountain. Twenty-two of the principal Girondists perished on the scaffold, or fell by their own hands; seventy-three were thrown into prison. The Mountain, ruled with absolute power; it created the revolutionary government, and the Convention in a mass placed itself, of its own accord, under the yoke of the Committee of Public Safety and of the Revolutionary Tribunal.

"In this second era, the sittings of the Convention no longer resembled those of the first; there was an end of discussion and of liberty; it was the despotism of the Decemvirs. Some of the Deputies governed the Committees of General Security, of Finance, &c. Others were dispatched by the Committee of Public Safety to the Armies and the Departments, and became real Pro-consuls.

"Every month, every week, every day, the government became more ferocious and sanguinary. All those, in the higher classes of society who had not emigrated were crowded together in the prisons, as objects of suspicion, and sent by hundreds to the scaffold.

"After treating in this way every one who was of a noble family, a priest, a merchant, or a considerable proprietor, the excesses of the party recoiling upon itself, it ruled the Jacobins and the Commune of Paris with an iron hand: it enslaved the Convention, and threatened it with absolute annihilation; it preached up Atheism, and proscribed the arts, the sciences, and every species of talent. The artists and men of science were thrown into prison, as objects of suspicion, and there was a time when the National Library and the Garden of Plants were on the point of being burnt and laid waste.

"Robespierre and Danton, filled with indignation at these outrages, united their efforts to put a stop to the frightful progress of the popular madness. The capuchin Chabot, Bazire, Fabre d’Eglantine, Hebert, Chaumet, Vincent, and all their associates perished on the scaffold.

"For the first time since the commencement of the Revolution, the people saw persons put to death as ultra-revolutionary, and no longer as having wished to stop the Revolution. Their ideas were turned up-side down, and underwent a real revolution.

"The prisons were filled with sans-culottes, and with all that was basest in society. It was remarked, that the apostate priests were numerous in that class.

"The people beheld, without surprise and with joy, the punishment of those who had until then governed them, and that feeling was a revolution, which escaped the observation of Robespierre and Danton, and which they knew not how to convert to their advantage.

"The _third era_ presents a spectacle different from the other two. Danton and Robespierre had without effort stopped the Revolution, and put a period to the power of the Commune of Paris; but after their success they fell out between themselves.

"Danton, Camille des Moulins, Heraut de Sechelles, and Lacroix, were desirous of going a step farther, and putting an end to the assassinations of the Revolutionary Tribunal. Danton and Lacroix had enriched themselves in their mission to Belgium. Camille des Moulins, who, from the beginning of the Revolution had given himself the title of the Attorney-General of the Lantern, was captivated and softened down by a young wife. They had the boldness to demand, that the blow which had been just struck against Hebert, or the rest of Marat’s party, should be turned to the benefit of the whole Republic—that no innocent person should in future be condemned—that the system of terror should be abolished—and that a Committee of Clemency should be established.

"Billaud-Varennes and Collot-d’Herbois, who took the lead in the Committee of Public Safety and among the great body of Jacobins, rejected these demands with indignation and fury; and Robespierre, after some hesitation, did not dare to support Danton, and made a sacrifice of him. Danton, Camille des Moulins, Heraut de Sechelles, &c. perished on the scaffold, to which they were dragged by the whole Committee of Public Safety, and by the enraged Jacobins. The people were struck with consternation, and for the first time expressed no sign of satisfaction.

"What Robespierre, however, had not dared to do, and what he could have easily effected had he supported Danton, he had the presumption to undertake after the death of Danton. In order to put a period to Atheism, he caused the existence of God to be proclaimed, and he endeavoured to reinstate the virtues, the sciences, and the arts. Billaud-Varennes, Collot-d’Herbois, and Barrere, were struck with horror at seeing the termination of the revolutionary government. They formed a coalition with all the representatives, who, in their missions, had caused the effusion of human blood, and with all the numerous friends whom Danton had in the Convention, such as Tallien, Fréron, Legendre; and when Robespierre was bold enough to give a glimpse of his plan for suppressing the administration of the pro-consuls, and for the necessity of bringing to justice the base characters, who had rendered the Revolution odious in the provinces, he was consigned to the scaffold.

"The transactions of the 9th Thermidor constituted, in reality, the triumph of Collot-d’Herbois and Billaud-Varennes, men more horrible and bloodthirsty than Robespierre; but that victory could not be obtained over the Jacobins and the commune, without calling into action the whole of the citizens; so that, with respect to the middling classes and the people, the death of Robespierre was the death of the revolutionary government; and after various oscillations, those who wished to continue the system of terror and had sacrificed Robespierre, as he had sacrificed Danton, because he was desirous of softening down and moderating the revolution, found themselves drawn along with, and overpowered by, the public opinion.

“During the last ten months, Robespierre frequently complained that he was rendered odious by having all the massacres, which were perpetrated, attributed to him. The men who caused his destruction were more sanguinary and dreadful than he, but the whole nation, which had for a long time imputed all the assassinations to Robespierre, exclaimed that it was a triumph over tyranny, and that belief put an end to it.”

Here the dictation ended; the Emperor joined in common conversation, and as he never resumed it, we are deprived of the fourth era.

THE MONITEUR AND LIBERTY OF THE PRESS.

June 13th.—The Emperor had just run over a great many numbers of the Moniteur. “These Moniteurs,” said he, “so terrible and dangerous to so many reputations, are uniformly useful and favourable to me alone. It is with official documents that men of sense and real talents will write history; now, these documents are full of the spirit of my government, and to them I make an earnest and solemn appeal.” He added, that he had made the Moniteur the soul and life-blood of his government, and that it was the intermediate instrument of his communications with public opinion, both abroad and at home. Every government had since followed his example more or less in that respect.

“Whatever serious fault might be committed by any of the high functionaries employed in the interior, immediately,” said the Emperor, "an enquiry was set on foot by three Councillors of State. They made their report to me, confirmed the facts and discussed the principles. For my own part, I had nothing more to do than to write at the bottom—‘_Dispatched for execution according to the laws of the republic, or of the empire._’ My interference was at an end, the public result accomplished, and popular opinion did justice to the transaction. It was the most formidable and dreadful of my tribunals. Did any question arise abroad respecting certain grand political combinations or some delicate points of diplomacy? The objects were indirectly hinted at in the Moniteur. They instantly attracted universal attention and became the topics of general investigation. This conduct was at once the orderly signal for the adherents of the throne, and at the same time an appeal to the opinion of all. The Moniteur has been reproached for the acrimony and virulence of its notes against the enemy. But before we condemn them, we are bound to take into consideration the benefits they may have produced, the anxiety with which they occasionally gave the enemy, the terror with which they struck a hesitating cabinet, the stimulus which they imparted to our allies, the confidence and audacity with which they inspired our troops," &c.

The conversation next turned upon the liberty of the press, and the Emperor asked our opinions. We talked for a long time very idly on the subject, and threw out a great number of common-place ideas. Some were hostile to it. “Nothing,” said they, “can resist the liberty of the press. It is capable of overthrowing every government, of agitating every society, of destroying every reputation.” “It is only,” observed others, “its prohibition that is dangerous. If it be restricted, it becomes a mine that must explode, but if left to itself it is merely an unbent bow, that can inflict no wound.” Here the Emperor observed, that he was far from being convinced with regard to that point, but that it was no longer the question for consideration; that there were institutions at present, and the liberty of the press was among the number, on the excellence of which we were no longer called upon to decide, but solely to determine the possibility of withholding them from the overbearing influence of popular opinion. He declared, that the prohibition under a representative government was a gross anachronism, a downright absurdity. He had, therefore, on his return from the Isle of Elba, abandoned the press to all its excesses, and he was well assured, that they had, in no respect, contributed to his recent downfall. When it was proposed in council, in his presence, to discuss the means of sheltering the authority of the State from its attacks, he jocosely remarked, “Gentlemen, it is probably yourselves you wish to protect, for, with respect to me, I shall henceforth continue a stranger to all such proceedings. The press has exhausted itself upon me during my absence, and I now defy it to produce any thing new or provoking against me.”

THE WAR, AND ROYAL FAMILY OF SPAIN.—FERDINAND AT VALENCEY.—ERRORS IN THE AFFAIRS OF SPAIN.—HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THESE EVENTS, &C.—NAPOLEON’S ADMIRABLE LETTER TO MURAT.

June 14th.—The Emperor had been ill the whole of the night, and continued so during the day; he had a foot-bath, and was not inclined to go out; he dined alone in his apartment, and sent for me towards the evening.

The Emperor began the conversation, of which the constant subject was the Spanish war. It has been seen in the notice which I have already taken of it, that the Emperor took upon himself the whole blame of the measure. I wish to avoid repetitions as much as possible, and shall, therefore, allude to those topics only which appeared new to me.

“The old King and Queen,” said the Emperor, "at the moment of the event, were the objects of the hatred and contempt of their subjects. The Prince of Asturias conspired against them, forced them to abdicate, and at once united in his own person the love and hopes of the nation. That nation was, however, ripe for great changes and demanded them with energy. I enjoyed vast popularity in the country, and it was in that state of things that all these personages met at Bayonne; the old king calling upon me for vengeance against his son, and the young prince soliciting my protection against his father, and imploring a wife at my hands. I resolved to convert this singular occasion to my advantage, with the view of delivering myself from that branch of the Bourbons, of continuing in my own dynasty the family system of Louis XIV. and of binding Spain to the destinies of France. Ferdinand was sent to Valencey, the old king to Marseilles, as he wished, and my brother Joseph went to reign at Madrid with a liberal constitution, adopted by a junta of the Spanish nation, which had come to receive it at Bayonne.

“It seems to me,” continued he, "that Europe, and even France, has never had a just idea of Ferdinand’s situation at Valencey. There is a strange misunderstanding in the world with respect to the treatment he experienced, and still more so, with respect to his wishes and personal opinions as to that situation. The fact is, that he was scarcely guarded at Valencey, and that he did not wish to escape. If any plots were contrived to favour his evasion, he was the first to make them known. An Irishman (Baron de Colli) gained access to his person, and offered, in the name of George the Third, to carry him off; but Ferdinand, so far from embracing the offer, instantly communicated it to the proper authority.

“His applications to me for a wife at my hands were incessant. He spontaneously wrote to me letters of congratulation upon every event that occurred in my favour. He had addressed proclamations to the Spaniards recommending their submission; he had recognized Joseph. All these were circumstances which might, indeed, have been considered as forced upon him; but he requested from him the insignia of his grand order; he tendered to me the services of his brother, Don Carlos, to take the command of the Spanish regiments, which were marching to Russia,—proceedings to which he was, in no respect, obliged. To sum up all, he earnestly solicited my permission to visit my court at Paris, and if I did not lend myself to a spectacle, which would have astonished Europe, by displaying the full consolidation of my power, it was because the important circumstances which called me abroad, and my frequent absence from the capital, deprived me of the proper opportunity.”

About the beginning of a year, at one of the Emperor’s levees, I happened to be next to the Chamberlain, Count d’Arberg, who had been doing duty at Valencey, near the persons of the princes of Spain. When the Emperor approached, he enquired if these princes conducted themselves with propriety, and added; “You have brought me a very pretty letter; but between ourselves, it was you who wrote it for them.” D’Arberg assured him, that he was altogether unacquainted even with the nature of its contents. “Well,” said the Emperor, “a son could not write more cordially to his father.”

“When our situation in Spain,” observed the Emperor, “proved dangerous, I more than once proposed to Ferdinand to return and reign over his people; that we should openly carry on war against each other: and that the contest should be decided by the fate of arms.” “No,” answered the prince, who seems to have been well advised, and never deviated from that way of thinking. “My country is agitated by political disturbances; I should but multiply its embarrassments: I might become their victim, and lose my head upon the scaffold. I remain; but, if you will choose a wife for me, if you will grant me your protection and the support of your arms, I shall set out and prove a faithful ally.”

"At a later period, during our disasters, and towards the end of 1813, I yielded to that proposal, and Ferdinand’s marriage with Joseph’s eldest daughter was decided; but circumstances were then no longer the same, and Ferdinand was desirous that the marriage should be deferred. “You can no longer,” he observed, support me with your arms, and I ought not to make my wife a title of exclusion in the eyes of my people." “He left me,” continued the Emperor, “as it seemed, with every intention of good faith, for he adhered to the principles which he avowed on his departure, until the events of Fontainebleau.”

The Emperor declared that, had the affairs of 1814 turned out differently, he would unquestionably have accomplished his marriage with Joseph’s daughter.

The Emperor, in reverting to these affairs, said, that the impolicy of his own conduct was irrevocably decided by the results; but that independently of this kind of proof, depending upon consequences, he had to reproach himself with serious faults in the execution of his plans. One of the greatest was that of considering the dethronement of the dynasty of the Bourbons as a matter of importance, and of maintaining as the basis of this system, for its successor, precisely that man, who from his qualities and character, was certain to cause its failure.

During the meeting at Bayonne, Ferdinand’s former preceptor and his principal counsellor (Escoiquiz) at once perceiving the vast projects entertained by the Emperor, and pleading the cause of his master, said to him: "You wish to create for yourself a kind of Herculean labour, when you have but child’s play in hand. You wish to rid yourselves of the Bourbons of Spain; why should you be apprehensive of them? They have ceased to exist; they are no longer French. You have nothing to fear from them; they are altogether aliens with respect to your nation and your manners. You have here Madame de Montmorency, and some new ladies of your Court; they are not more acquainted with the one than with the other, and view them all with equal indifference." The Emperor unfortunately formed a different resolution.

I took the liberty of telling him, I had been assured by some Spaniards, that, if the national pride had been respected, and the Spanish junta held at Madrid instead of Bayonne, or even, if Charles IV. had been sent off and Ferdinand retained, the revolution would have been popular, and affairs would have taken another turn. The Emperor entertained no doubt of it, and agreed that the enterprize had been imprudently undertaken, and that many circumstances might have been better conducted. “Charles IV.,” said he, "was, however, too stale for the Spaniards. Ferdinand should have been considered in the same light. The plan most worthy of me, and the best suited to my project, would have been a kind of mediation like that of Switzerland. I ought to have given a liberal constitution to the Spanish nation, and charged Ferdinand with its execution. If he had acted with good faith, Spain must have prospered and harmonized with our new manners. The great object would have been obtained, and France would have acquired an intimate ally and an addition of power truly formidable. Had Ferdinand, on the contrary, proved faithless to his new engagements, the Spaniards themselves would not have failed to dismiss him, and would have applied to me for a ruler in his place.

“At all events,” concluded the Emperor, "that unfortunate war in Spain was a real affliction, and the first cause of the calamities of France. After my conferences at Erfurt with Alexander, England ought to have been compelled to make peace by the force of arms or of reason. She had lost the esteem of the continent; her attack upon Copenhagen had disgusted the public mind, while I distinguished myself at that moment by every contrary advantage, when that disastrous affair of Spain presented itself to effect a sudden change against me and reinstate England in the public estimation. She was enabled, from that moment, to continue the war; the trade with South America was thrown open to her; she formed an army for herself in the peninsula, and next became the victorious agent, the main point, of all the plots which were hatched on the continent. All this effected my ruin.

"I was then assailed with imputations, for which, however, I had given no cause. History will do me justice. I was charged in that affair with perfidy, with laying snares, and with bad faith, and yet I was completely innocent. Whatever may have been said to the contrary, never have I broken any engagement, or violated my promise, either with regard to Spain or any other power.

"The world will one day be convinced, that in the principal transactions relative to Spain I was completely a stranger to all the domestic intrigues of its Court: that I broke no promise made either to Charles IV. or to Ferdinand VII.: that I violated no engagement with the father or the son: that I made use of no falsehoods to entice them both to Bayonne, but that they both strove which should be the first there. When I saw them at my feet and was enabled to form a correct opinion of their total incapacity, I beheld with compassion the fate of a great people; I eagerly seized the singular opportunity, held out to me by fortune, for regenerating Spain, rescuing her from the yoke of England, and intimately uniting her with our system. It was, in my conception, laying the fundamental basis of the tranquillity, and security of Europe. But I was far from employing for that purpose, as it has been reported, any base and paltry stratagems. If I erred, it was, on the contrary, by daring openness and extraordinary energy. Bayonne was not the scene of premeditated ambush, but of a vast master-stroke of state policy. I could have preserved myself from these imputations by a little hypocrisy, or by giving up the Prince of the Peace to the fury of the people; but the idea appeared horrible to me, and struck me as if I was to receive the price of blood. Besides, it must also be acknowledged that Murat did me a great deal of mischief in the whole affair.

"Be that as it may, I disdained having recourse to crooked and common-place expedients—I found myself so powerful!—I dared to strike from a situation too exalted. I wished to act like Providence, which, of its own accord, applies remedies to the wretchedness of mankind, by means occasionally violent, but for which it is unaccountable to human judgment.

“I candidly confess, however, that I engaged very inconsiderately in the whole affair; its immorality must have shewn itself too openly, its injustice too glaringly, and the transactions taken altogether, present a disgusting aspect, more particularly since my failure; for the outrage is no longer seen but in its hideous nakedness, stripped of all loftiness of idea, and of the numerous benefits which it was my intention to confer. Posterity, however, would have extolled it had I succeeded, and perhaps with reason, on account of its vast and happy results. Such is our lot, and such our judgment in this world!... But I once more declare, that, in no instance was there any breach of faith, any perfidy or falsehood, and, what is more, there was no occasion for them.” Here the Emperor resumed, in its totality and in its origin, the history of the affair of Spain, repeating many things which have been already noticed.

“The Court and the reigning family,” said the Emperor, "were split into two parties. The one was that of the monarch, blindly governed by his favourite, the Prince of the Peace, who had constituted himself the real king; the other was that of the heir presumptive, headed by his preceptor, Escoiquiz, who aspired to the government. These two parties were equally desirous of my support, and made me the most flattering promises. I was, no doubt, determined to derive every possible advantage from their situation.

"The favourite, in order to continue in office, as well as to shelter himself from the vengeance of the son, in case of the father’s death, offered me, in the name of Charles IV. to effect, in concert, the conquest of Portugal, reserving as an asylum for himself, the sovereignty of the Algarves.

"On the other hand, the prince of the Asturias wrote to me privately, without his father’s knowledge, soliciting a wife of my choice, and imploring my protection.

"I concluded an agreement with the former, and returned no answer to the latter. My troops were already admitted into the Peninsula, when the son took advantage of a commotion to make his father abdicate and to reign in his place.

"It has been foolishly imputed to me, that I took part in all these intrigues, but so far was I from having any knowledge of them, that the last event, in particular, disconcerted all my projects with the father, in consequence of which my troops were already in the heart of Spain. The two parties were aware, from that moment, that I could and ought to be the arbiter between them. The dethroned monarch and the son had recourse to me, the one for the purpose of obtaining vengeance, and the other, for the purpose of being recognised. They both hastened to plead their cause before me, and they were urged on by their respective councillors, those very persons who absolutely governed them, and who saw no means of preserving their own lives but by throwing themselves into my arms.

"The Prince of the Peace, who had narrowly escaped being murdered, easily persuaded Charles IV. and his queen to undertake the journey, as they had themselves been in danger of falling victims to the fury of the multitude.

“On his part, the preceptor Escoiquiz, the real author of all the calamities of Spain, alarmed at seeing Charles IV. protest against his abdication, and in dread of the scaffold, unless his pupil triumphed, exerted every means to influence the young King. This Canon, who had besides a very high opinion of his own talents, did not despair of making an impression on my decisions by his arguments, and of inducing me to acknowledge Ferdinand, making me a tender, on his own account, of his services to govern, altogether under my control, as effectually as the Prince of the Peace could, in the name of Charles IV. And it must be owned,” said the Emperor, "that, had I listened to several of his reasons, and adopted some of his ideas, it had been much better for me.

"When I had them all assembled at Bayonne, I felt a confidence in my political system, to which I never before had the presumption to aspire. I had not made my combinations, but I took advantage of the moment. I here found the Gordian knot before me, and I cut it. I proposed to Charles IV. and the Queen, to resign the crown of Spain to me, and to live quietly in France. They agreed, I may say, almost with joy, to the proposal, so inveterately were they exasperated against their son, and so earnestly did they and their favourite wish to enjoy, for the future, tranquillity and safety. The Prince of the Asturias made no extraordinary resistance to the plan, but neither violence nor threats were employed against him; and if he was influenced by fear, which I am very willing to believe, that could only be his concern.

"There you have in very few words, the complete historical sketch of the affair of Spain; whatever may be said, or written on it must amount to that; and you see that there could be no occasion for me to have recourse to paltry tricks, to falsehoods, to breaches of faith, or violation of engagements. In order to establish my guilt, it would be necessary to shew my inclination to degrade myself gratuitously; but of that propensity I have never furnished an instance.

"For the rest, the instant my decision was known, the crowd of intriguers who swarm in every court, and even those among them who had been the most active in producing the misfortunes of their country, strove to curry favour with Joseph, as they had done with Charles IV. and Ferdinand VII. They watched, with extraordinary diligence, the progress of events, and changed sides at a later period, in proportion as difficulties encreased, and our disasters approached. They pursued the plan so successfully, that they are the persons, who, at this moment, govern Ferdinand. And, what is truly horrible, the better to secure their influence, they did not hesitate to impute whatever was odious and criminal in past calamities, to the mass of _simpletons_, whom they proscribed and banished;—of those men naturally well-disposed, and who, in principle, decidedly blamed Ferdinand’s journey. Of this latter class, several who opposed the journey afterwards took the oath of allegiance to Joseph, who seemed then to be identified with the happiness and tranquillity of their country, and continued faithful to him, until the grand catastrophe that drove him from the throne.

“It would be difficult to accumulate a greater mass of impudence and baseness than that exhibited by all those intriguers, the principal performers in that grand scene, which, by the way, extenuates the degradation to which similar acts of vileness have reduced France in the eyes of Europe. It is evident, that they do not belong to her exclusively. Intriguing, ambitious, rapacious men, are every where to be found, and are every where the same. Individuals alone are guilty; nations cannot incur the responsibility. Their only disadvantage arises from their being forced to witness these misdeeds. Unhappy the country which becomes the scene of them!”

At present, the affair of Spain is perfectly known, thanks to the writings of the principal actors, the canon Escoiquiz, the minister Cevallos, and others, but above all, to those of the worthy and respectable M. Llorente, who, under the anagrammatic signature of Nellerto, has published the Memoirs of that time, sanctioned by all the official documents. The opposite contradictions of the two first, their mutual disputes, the assertions and denials of their contemporaries, have reduced their writings to their real value, by stripping them of whatever was erroneous, false, or even fabricated. The result is, that in the opinion of every cool and impartial judge, they all concur, even involuntarily, in confirming the justificatory assertions advanced by Napoleon; not but that they display that difference which must inevitably arise from the diversity of party-interests; but solely because neither of them actually establishes the grounds of positive crimination, nor furnishes any official document by which it can be proved, while all those which exist attest and establish the contrary.

It may also be remarked in the history of those transactions, which must now be considered as genuine, that England herself was altogether a stranger to them, at least with respect to their origin, a fact which was far from Napoleon’s way of thinking, who charged the English at the time with being the first cause of all the intrigues, and who still persevered in the accusation at St. Helena: so accustomed was he to discover them at the bottom of every plot formed against him.

With respect to this affair of Spain, I have further to notice a letter from the Emperor, which throws more light upon the subject than volumes. It is admirable, and the events which followed stamp it as a masterpiece. It exhibits the rapidity, the eagle-eyed view, with which Napoleon formed his opinion of men and things.

Unfortunately, it also shews how much the execution of the inferiors, employed during the greater part of the time, destroyed the finest and most exalted conceptions; and in that point of view this letter remains a very precious document for history. Its date renders it prophetic.

“29th March, 1808.

“Monsieur le Grand Duc de Berg—I am afraid lest you should deceive me with respect to the situation of Spain, and lest you should also deceive yourself. Events have been singularly complicated by the transaction of the 20th of March. I find myself very much perplexed.

“_Do not believe that you are about to attack a disarmed nation, and that you can, by a mere parade of your troops, effect the subjugation of Spain._ The revolution of the 20th of March proves, that the Spaniards possess energy. You have to contend with a new people; it has all the courage, and will display all the enthusiasm shewn by men, who are not worn out by political passions.

“The aristocracy and the clergy are the masters of Spain. If their privileges and existence be threatened, they will bring into the field against us levies en masse, that may perpetuate the war. I am not without my partisans; but if I shew myself as a conqueror they will abandon me.

“The Prince of the Peace is detested, because he is accused of having betrayed Spain to France. This is the grievance which has assisted Ferdinand’s usurpation. The popular is the weakest party.

“The Prince of the Asturias does not possess a single quality requisite for the head of a nation. That will not prevent his being ranked as a hero, in order that he may be opposed to us. I will have no violence employed against the personages of this family. It can never answer any purpose to excite hatred and inflame animosity. Spain has a hundred thousand men under arms, more than are necessary to carry on an internal war with advantage. Scattered over several parts of the country, they may serve as rallying points for a total insurrection of the monarchy.

“I lay before you all the obstacles which must inevitably happen. There are others of which you must be aware. England will not allow the opportunity to escape her without multiplying our embarrassments. She daily sends packet-boats to the forces, which she maintains on the coasts of Portugal and in the Mediterranean; and she enlists in her service Sicilians and Portuguese.

“The Royal Family not having left Spain for the purpose of establishing itself in its American colonies, the state of the country can be changed only by a revolution. It is, perhaps, of all others in Europe, that which is the least prepared for one. Those who perceive the monstrous defects of that government, and the anarchy which has been substituted for the legitimate authority, are the fewest in number. Those defects and that anarchy are converted to their own advantage by the greatest number.

“I can, consistently with the interests of my empire, do a great deal of good to Spain. What are the best means to be adopted?

“Shall I go to Madrid? Shall I take upon myself the office of Grand Protector in deciding between the father and the son? It seems to me a matter of difficulty to support Charles IV. on the throne. His government and his favourite are so very unpopular, that they could not maintain themselves for three months.

“Ferdinand is the enemy of France, and to that consideration he has been indebted for the crown. His elevation to the throne would be favourable to the factions, which for five-and-twenty years have longed for the destruction of France. A family alliance would be but a feeble tie. _Queen Elizabeth and other French princesses_ perished miserably when they could be immolated with impunity to the atrocious spirit of vengeance. My opinion is, that nothing should be hurried on, and that our measures ought to be regulated by events as they occur. It will be necessary to strengthen the _corps d’armée_ which will be stationed on the frontiers of Portugal, and wait....

“I do not approve of your Imperial Highness’s conduct in so precipitately making yourself master of Madrid. The army ought to have been kept ten leagues from the capital. You had no assurance that the people and the magistracy were about to recognise Ferdinand, without a struggle. The Prince of the Peace must, of course, have partisans among those employed in the public service; there is also an habitual attachment to the old King, which might lead to unpleasant consequences. Your entrance into Madrid, by alarming the Spaniards, has powerfully assisted Ferdinand. I have ordered Savary to attend the new King, and observe what passes. He will concert matters with your Imperial Highness. I shall hereafter decide upon the measures necessary to be pursued. In the mean time, I think it proper to prescribe the following line of conduct to you:

“You will not pledge me to an interview, _in Spain_, with Ferdinand, unless you consider the state of things to be such that I ought to recognise him King of Spain. You will behave with attention and respect to the King, the Queen, and Prince Godoy. You will require for them, and pay them, the same honours as formerly. You will manage matters so as to prevent the Spaniards from entertaining any suspicions of the course I shall pursue. You will find no difficulty in this, as I know nothing about it myself.

“You will make the nobility and clergy understand that, if the interference of France be requisite in the affairs of Spain, their privileges and immunities shall be respected. You will assure them that the Emperor wishes for the improvement of the political institutions of Spain, in order to place her in a relative state to that of civilized Europe, and to deliver her from the administration of favouritism. You will tell the magistrates and the inhabitants of the towns and the enlightened classes, that the machine of the government needs reconstructing, that Spain wants a system of laws calculated for the protection of the people against the tyranny and usurpations of feudality, and of establishments which may revive industry, agriculture, and the arts. You will describe to them the state of tranquillity and ease enjoyed by France, notwithstanding the wars in which she has been constantly involved, and the splendour of religion, which owes its establishment to the Concordat I have signed with the Pope. You will explain to them the advantages which they may derive from political regeneration—order and peace at home, respect and influence abroad. Such should be the spirit of your conversation and your letters. Do not hazard any thing hastily. I can wait at Bayonne, I can cross the Pyrenees, and, strengthening myself towards Portugal, I can go and conduct the war in that quarter.

“I shall take care of your particular interests, do not think of them yourself. Portugal will be at my disposal. Let no powerful object engage you and influence your conduct; that would be injurious to me, and would be still more hurtful to yourself.

“You are too hasty in your instructions of the 14th; the march you order General Dupont to take is too rapid, on account of the event of the 19th of March. They must be altered; you will make new arrangements; you will receive instructions from my Minister for Foreign Affairs.

“I enjoin the maintenance of the strictest discipline; the slightest faults must not go unpunished. The inhabitants must be treated with the greatest attention. Above all, the churches and convents must be respected.

“The army must avoid all misunderstanding with the corps and detachments of the Spanish army; there must not be a single flash in the pan on either side.

“Let Solano march beyond Badajos, but watch his movements. Do you yourself trace out the marches of my army, that it may be always kept at a distance of several leagues from the Spanish corps. Should hostilities take place, all would be lost.

“The fate of Spain can alone be decided by political views and by negociation. I charge you to avoid all explanation with Solano, as well as with the other Spanish generals and governors. You will send me two expresses daily. In case of events of superior interest, you will despatch orderly officers. You will immediately send back the Chamberlain de T——, the bearer of this despatch, and give him a detailed report.

“I pray God, M. le Grand Duc de Berg, &c.

(Signed) "NAPOLEON.”

June 15th.—The weather was superb; we took an airing in our calash, and observed very near the shore a large vessel, which seemed to manœuvre in a singular manner. We took her from her appearance to be the Newcastle, which had been for some time expected to relieve the Northumberland; but she was only one of the Company’s ships.

During part of the day, the Emperor, after running over a great number of topics, came at length to mention several persons who, were they at liberty, he said, would join him at St. Helena, and he undertook to explain the motives by which they might be influenced. From this subject, he was led to touch upon the motives of those who were about him. “Bertrand,” said he, "is henceforth identified with my fate. It is an historical fact. Gourgaud was my first orderly officer, he is my own work, he is my child. Montholon is Semonville’s son, brother-in-law to Joubert, a child of the revolution and of camps. But you, my good friend," said he to the fourth, “you,” and after a moment’s thought, he resumed; “you, my good friend, let us know by what extraordinary chance you find yourself here?” The answer was, “Sire, by the influence of my happy stars, and for the honour of the emigrants.”

ARTICLES SENT FROM ENGLAND.—THE EMPEROR’s DETERMINATION TO PROHIBIT THE USE OF COTTON IN FRANCE.—THE CONFERENCES OF TILSIT.—THE QUEEN OF PRUSSIA.—THE KING.—THE EMPEROR ALEXANDER.—ANECDOTES, &C.

June 16th.—The weather was delightful; the Emperor entered my apartment about ten o’clock. I was employed in dressing myself, and also in dictating my Journal to my son. The Emperor cast his eye over it for a few instants, and said nothing; he left it to look at some drawings. They were topographical sketches, executed with the pen, of some of the battles in Italy, by my son, and we felt pleasure in reserving them as an agreeable surprise for the Emperor. We had, until then, been employed upon them in secret.

I followed the Emperor to the garden; he talked a great deal on the articles that had been just sent to us from England, and which chiefly consisted of furniture. He exposed the ill-grace and awkwardness of those who had been employed to deliver them to us. He observed that, in presenting even what would have been most agreeable to us, they found means to hurt our feelings. He was on that account determined not to make use of them, and he declined accepting two fowling-pieces, which were particularly intended for him. The Emperor breakfasted in the open air, and we were all invited to his table.

The conversation turning on fashions and dress, the Emperor said that, at one period, he had resolved to prohibit the use of cotton in France, for the more effectual encouragement of the lawn and cambric trade of our towns in Flanders. The Empress Josephine was shocked at the idea, which she decidedly opposed, and it was given up.

The Emperor was in a happy humour for conversation, and the weather was very mild and tolerably pleasant. He began walking in the kind of alley which runs perpendicularly in front of the house. The conversation turned on the celebrated epoch of Tilsit, and the following are the interesting particulars which I collected.

The Emperor remarked, that, had the Queen of Prussia arrived at the commencement of the negociations, she might have exercised considerable influence with respect to the result. Happily, she arrived when they were sufficiently advanced to enable the Emperor to decide upon their conclusion four-and-twenty hours afterwards. The King, it was thought, had prevented her early appearance, in consequence of a rising jealousy against a great personage, which was confidently stated, said the Emperor, “not to have been destitute of some slight ground.”

The moment of her arrival, the Emperor paid her a visit. “The Queen of Prussia,” said he, “had been very beautiful, but she was beginning to lose some of the charms of her youth.”

The Emperor declared, that the Queen received him like Mademoiselle Duchesnois in the character of Chimene, thrown back into a grand attitude, demanding, calling aloud for, _justice_. In short, it was altogether a theatrical scene: the representation was truly tragic. He was unable to speak for an instant, and thought the only way of extricating himself was that of bringing back the business to the tone of regular comedy, which he attempted by presenting her with a chair, and gently forcing her to be seated. She proceeded, nevertheless, in the most pathetic tone. “Prussia,” she exclaimed, “had been blinded with respect to her power;—she had dared to contend with a hero, to oppose herself to the destinies of France, to neglect his auspicious friendship; she was deservedly punished for it. The glory of the great Frederic, his memory, and his inheritance had puffed up the pride of Prussia, and had caused her ruin!” She solicited, supplicated, implored. Magdeburg, in particular, was the object of her efforts and wishes. The Emperor kept his ground as well as he could. Fortunately, the husband made his appearance. The Queen reproved, with an expressive look, the unseasonable interruption, and shewed some pettishness. In fact, the King attempted to take part in the conversation, spoiled the whole affair, “and I was,” said the Emperor, “set at liberty.”

The Emperor entertained the Queen at dinner. She played off, said he, all her wit against me; she had a great deal; all her manners, which were very fascinating; all her coquetry; she was not without charms. “But I was determined not to yield. I found it necessary, however, to keep a great command over myself, that I might continue exempt from all kind of engagement, and every expression, which might be taken in a doubtful sense, and the more so, because I was carefully watched, and particularly by Alexander.” Just before sitting down to dinner Napoleon took from a flower-stand a very beautiful rose, which he presented to the Queen. She at first expressed by the motion of her hand a kind of prepared refusal; but suddenly recollecting herself, she said; _Yes, but at least with Magdeburg_. The Emperor replied, “But ... I must observe to your Majesty, that it is I who present, and you, who are about to receive it.” The dinner and the remainder of the time passed over in that manner.

The Queen was seated at table between the two Emperors, who rivalled each other in gallantry. She was placed near Alexander’s best ear; with one he can scarcely hear at all. The evening came, and, the Queen having retired, the Emperor, who had shown the most engaging attentions to his guests, but, who had at the same time, been often driven to an extremity, resolved to come to a point. He sent for M. de Talleyrand, and Prince Kourakin, talked big to them, and letting fly, continued he, some hard words, observed, that, after all, a woman and a piece of gallantry ought not to alter a system conceived for the destiny of a great people, and that he insisted upon the immediate conclusion of the negociations, and the signing of the treaty; which took place according to his orders. “Thus,” said he, "the Queen of Prussia’s conversation advanced the treaty by a week or a fortnight."

The Queen was preparing to renew her attacks the next day, and was indignant when she heard that the treaty was signed. She wept a great deal, and determined to see the Emperor Napoleon no more. She would not accept a second invitation to dinner. Alexander was himself obliged to prevail upon her. She complained most bitterly, and maintained, that Napoleon had broken his word. But Alexander had been always present. He had even been a dangerous witness, ready to give evidence of the slightest action or word on the part of Napoleon in her favour. “He has made you no promise,” was his observation to her; “if you can prove the contrary, I here pledge myself, as between man and man, to make him keep his promise, and he will do so, I am convinced.”—"But he has given me to understand," said she, ... “No,” replied Alexander, “and you have nothing to reproach him with.” She came at length. Napoleon, who had no longer any occasion to be on his guard against her, redoubled his attentions. She played off, for a few moments, the airs of an offended coquette, and when the dinner was over, and she was about to retire, Napoleon presented his hand, and conducted her to the middle of the staircase, where he stopped. She squeezed his hand, and said with a kind of tenderness; “Is it possible, that after having had the honour of being so near to the hero of the century and of history, he will not leave me the power and satisfaction of being enabled to assure him, that he has attached me to him for life?”—"Madam," replied the Emperor in a serious tone, “I am to be pitied; it is the result of my unhappy stars.” He then took leave of her. When she reached her carriage, she threw herself into it in tears; sent for Duroc, whom she highly esteemed, renewed all her complaints to him, and said, pointing to the palace; “There is a place in which I have been cruelly deceived!”

“The Queen of Prussia,” said the Emperor, “was unquestionably gifted with many happy resources; she possessed a great deal of information and had many excellent capabilities. It was she who really reigned for more than fifteen years. She also, in spite of my dexterity and all my exertions, took the lead in conversation, and constantly maintained the ascendancy. She touched, perhaps, too often upon her favourite topic, but she did so, however, with great plausibility and without giving the slightest cause of uneasiness. It must be confessed that she had an important object in view, and that the time was short and precious.”

“One of the high contracting parties,” said the Emperor, “had frequently assured her, that she ought to have come in the beginning or not at all, and observed that, for his part, he had done every thing in his power to induce her to come at once. It was suspected,” continued the Emperor, “that he had a personal motive to gratify by her coming; but, on the other hand, the husband had a motive equally personal in opposing it.” Napoleon believed him to have been very kind and a sincere friend in the business.

“The king of Prussia,” said the Emperor, "had requested his audience of leave on that very day, but I postponed it for four-and-twenty hours, at the secret entreaty of Alexander. The king of Prussia never forgave me for putting off that audience; so clearly did it seem to him, that Royal Majesty was insulted by my refusal.

“Another heavy charge against me, and of which he has never been able to divest his feelings, was that of having violated, as he said, his territory of Anspach in our campaign of Austerlitz. In all our subsequent interviews, however important the subjects of our discussion, he laid them all aside for the purpose of proving that I had really violated his territory of Anspach. He was wrong; but in short, it was his conviction, and his resentment was that of an honest man. His wife, however, was vexed at it, and wished him to pursue a higher system of politics.”

Napoleon reproached himself with a real fault, in allowing the king of Prussia’s presence at Tilsit. His first determination was to prevent his coming. He would then have been less bound to shew any attention to his interests. He might have kept Silesia, he might have aggrandized Saxony with it, and have probably reserved for himself a different kind of destiny. He further remarked: “I learn, that the politicians of the present day find great fault with my treaty of Tilsit; they have discovered, that I had, by that means, placed Europe at the mercy of the Russians; but if I had succeeded at Moscow, and it is now known how very near I was, they would, no doubt, have admired us for having, on the contrary, by that treaty, placed the Russians at the mercy of Europe. I entertained great designs with respect to the Germans.... But I failed, and therefore I was wrong. This is according to every rule of justice....”

Almost every day, at Tilsit, the two Emperors and the King rode out on horseback together, but, said Napoleon, “the latter was always awkward and unlucky.” The Prussians were visibly mortified by it. Napoleon was constantly between the two sovereigns; but either the King fell behind, or jostled and incommoded Napoleon. He shewed the same awkwardness on their return: the two Emperors dismounted in an instant, and took each other by the hand to go up stairs together. But, as the honours were done by Napoleon, he could not enter without first seeing the King pass. It was sometimes necessary to wait for him a long time, and, as the weather was often rainy, it happened that the two Emperors got wet on the king’s account, to the great dissatisfaction of all the spectators.

“This awkwardness,” said the Emperor, “was the more glaring, as Alexander possesses all the graces, and is equal, in elegance of manners, to the most polished and amiable ornaments of our Parisian drawing-rooms. The latter was at times so tired of his companion, who seemed lost in his own vexations, or in something else, that we mutually agreed on breaking up our common meeting to get rid of him. We separated immediately after dinner, under the pretence of some particular business; but Alexander and I met shortly afterwards, to take tea with one another, and we then continued in conversation until midnight, and even beyond it.”

Alexander and Napoleon met again some time after at Erfurt, and exchanged the most striking testimonies of affection. Alexander expressed with earnestness the sentiments of tender friendship and real admiration which he entertained for Napoleon. They passed some days together in the enjoyment of the charms of perfect intimacy and of the most familiar communications of private life. “We were,” said the Emperor, “two young men of quality, who, in their common pleasures, had no secret from each other.”

Napoleon had sent for the most distinguished performers of the French Theatre. A celebrated actress, Mademoiselle B——, attracted the attention of his guest, who had a momentary fancy to get acquainted with her. He asked his companion whether any inconvenience was likely to be the result. “None,” answered the latter; “only,” added he, intentionally, “it is a certain and rapid mode of making yourself known to all Paris. After to-morrow, post-day, the most minute details will be dispatched, and in a short time, not a statuary at Paris but will be qualified to give a model of your person from head to foot.” The danger of such a kind of publicity appeased the monarch’s rising passion; “for,” observed Napoleon, “he was very circumspect with regard to that point, and he recollected no doubt the old adage, When the mask falls, the hero disappears.”

The Emperor assured us that, had it been his wish, Alexander would certainly have given him his sister in marriage; his politics would have dictated the match, even had his inclination been against it. He was petrified when he heard of the marriage with Austria, and exclaimed—"This consigns me to my native forests." If he seemed to shuffle at first, it was because some time was necessary to enable him to come to a decision. His sister was very young, and the consent of his mother was requisite. This was settled by Paul’s will, and the Empress-mother was one of Napoleon’s bitterest enemies. She believed all the absurdities, all the ridiculous stories, which had been circulated concerning him. “How,” she exclaimed, "can I give my daughter to a man who is unfit to be any woman’s husband? Shall another man take possession of my daughter’s bed, if it be necessary, that she should have children? She is not formed for such a fate."—"Mother," said Alexander, “can you be so credulous as to believe the calumnies of London and the insinuations of the saloons of Paris? If that be the only difficulty, if it be that alone which gives you pain, I answer for him, and many others have it in their power to answer for him with me.”

"If Alexander’s affection for me was sincere," said the Emperor, “it was alienated from me by the force of intrigue. Certain persons, M——, or others, at the instigation of T——, lost no seasonable opportunity of mentioning instances of my turning him into ridicule, and they assured him, that at Tilsit and Erfurt, he no sooner turned his back than I took the opportunity of laughing at his expense. Alexander is very susceptible, and they must have easily soured his mind. It is certain, that he made bitter complaints of it at Vienna during the congress, and yet nothing was more false; he pleased me, and I loved him.”

S——, one of Napoleon’s aides-de-camp, was sent immediately after the treaty of Tilsit to Alexander at Petersburg, and was loaded with favours. The efforts and liberality of Alexander were inexhaustible to render himself agreeable to his new ally.

This same aide-de-camp became afterwards minister of the police, and in 1814, soon after the restoration, he is said to have made a striking allusion to his mission in Russia. A person deeply in the confidence of the King, addressing him at the Tuileries, in a manner altogether careless and unreserved, said, “Now that all is over, you may speak out; pray, who was your agent at Hartwell?” (This was, as every one knows, the residence of Louis XVIII. in England.) S——, astonished at the want of delicacy evinced by M. de B——, answered with dignity:—"M. le Comte, the Emperor considered the asylum of kings as an inviolable sanctuary. It was a principle which he impressed upon his police and we adhered to it. We have since learnt, that the same conduct was not observed with respect to him. But you, Sir, should entertain less doubt upon the subject than any other person. When I arrived at Petersburg, you were there on the part of the king. The Emperor Alexander, in the first warmth of his reconciliation, acquainted me with every thing that concerned you, and asked me whether it was the wish of my government that you should be ordered to leave his dominions. I had received no instructions upon that head. I wrote for them to the Emperor. His answer was, by return of courier, that he was satisfied with the sincere friendship of Alexander; that he would never interfere in his private arrangements; that he entertained no personal hatred against the Bourbons; and that, if he believed it were possible for them to accept it, he would offer them an asylum in France, and any royal residence, which might be agreeable to them. If you were then ignorant of these instructions, you will, no doubt, find them among the papers of the foreign office."

ARRIVAL OF THE FOREIGN COMMISSIONERS.—FORCED ETIQUETTE OF NAPOLEON.—ANECDOTES.—COUNCIL OF STATE; DETAILS RESPECTING THE PLACE OF MEETING, CUSTOMS, &C.—NOTICE OF SOME SITTINGS; DIGRESSION.—GASSENDI.—THE CROAT REGIMENT.—AMBASSADORS.—THE NATIONAL GUARD.—THE UNIVERSITY, &C.

17th of June.—The Emperor went out early in the morning. He ordered his calash for the purpose of taking a ride before breakfast. When he was stepping into it, we were informed, that the Newcastle man of war and the Orontes frigate were tacking to enter the port. These two vessels had overshot the island in the night, and were obliged to work to windward. They sailed from England on the 23rd of April and brought the bill respecting the Emperor’s detention. The English legislature had sanctioned by law the determination of ministers on that subject. The Commissioners of Austria, France and Russia were on board these vessels.

In the course of the day, the Emperor, speaking of the forms and costumes which he had established, and of the etiquette which he had introduced, said, “I found it a very difficult thing to give myself up to my own inclinations. I started into public notice from the multitude. Necessity compelled me to observe a degree of state; to adopt a certain system of solemnity; in a word, to establish an etiquette. I should otherwise have been every day liable to be slapped upon the shoulder. In France, we are naturally inclined to a misplaced familiarity, and I had to guard myself particularly against those who had at once, without any preparatory study, become men of education. We become courtiers very easily; we are very obsequious in the outset, and addicted to flattery and adulation: but unless it be repressed, a certain familiarity soon takes place, which might with great facility be carried as far as influence. It is well known that our kings were not exempt from this inconvenience.” Here the Emperor alluded to a very characteristic anecdote of the time of Louis XIV.—that of the courtier, of the number of whose children that prince enquired at his levee. “Four, Sire,” was the reply. The king, having occasion to speak to him two or three times in public during the day, put precisely the same question to him, “Pray, Sir, how many children have you?” The answer was uniformly the same; “Four, Sire.” At length, as the King was at play in the evening, he repeated the usual question. “How many children have you?”—“Six, Sire.” “How the plague can that be?” said the king, “for if I recollect right, you told me you had but four.”—“Really, Sire, I was afraid of fatiguing you with the constant repetition of the same thing.”

"“Sire,” observed one of the company to the Emperor, "I can mention an anecdote of a neighbouring country, worthy of that which we have just heard, and which may enable us to compare the gratuitous insolence of an absolute monarch’s courtier with the open resentment of a man, who has nothing to fear from his constitutional sovereign.

"A person moving in the circles of high life in London, had to complain of a great personage, by whom he had been very ill-used, and pledged himself to his friends to have ostensible satisfaction. Having learnt that the great personage was to honour a very brilliant party with his presence, he attended himself at an early hour and placed himself near the lady of the house. The great personage had paid his respects to the lady, and, after the customary compliments, being about to join the rest of the company, he had scarcely turned round, before the offended person, leaning carelessly towards her, said, with a loud voice, “Who is your fat friend?” The lady reddened, touched him with her elbow, and whispered; "Hold your tongue, I beg, don’t you see it is the Prince?" The gentleman replied, in a higher tone than before;—"How, the Prince!—Well, upon my honour, he is grown as fat as a pig."

Every one is at liberty to decide upon the relative demerits of these two insolent characters. Both are, no doubt, very blameable, and if there be less coarseness in the conduct of our countryman, it must also be allowed, that his impertinence is altogether without an object and purely gratuitous.

During another part of the day, the Emperor conversed at great length on the sittings of the Council of State. I had pointed out some, and of others we had but a doubtful recollection; or they had altogether slipped our memory. “Well,” said he, “in a short time, scarcely a trace of them will be left behind.” Being unable to sleep that night, I thought of these words, and endeavoured to recollect, as minutely as I could, every thing I was acquainted with respecting the Council of State;—the seat of its meetings, its usages, forms, &c.; and I do not think I can better employ the leisure of our solitude at St. Helena, than by giving an account of them here. I shall occasionally add what I may recollect of the sittings at which I was present. There are persons to whom these details will not be destitute of interest.

The hall of the Council of State, in the Tuileries, the place where the sittings were usually held, was on the same side with, and of the entire length of, the chapel. In the partition wall were several large doors, which being thrown open on Sundays, formed passages to the chapel. It was a fine oblong apartment. At one of its extremities, towards the interior of the palace, was a large and beautiful door, by which the Emperor entered, when, attended by his Court, he proceeded on Sunday to hear mass. It was only opened the rest of the week for the Emperor, when he went to his Council of State. The members of the Council entered only by two small doors, contrived for that purpose in the opposite extremity.

A row of tables, which occupied the whole length of the hall, on the right and left, was arranged there only when the council assembled, and the space left was sufficient to admit of seats within near the wall, and of a free passage without. There sat the Councillors of State, in their respective order of precedence; their places were, besides, designated by portfolios, bearing their names, and containing their papers. At the extremity of the hall, towards the grand entrance, and across the two rows, were placed similar tables for the Masters of Requests. The Auditors were seated on stools or chairs, behind the Councillors of State.

At the upper extremity of the hall, opposite to the grand entrance, was the Emperor’s place on an elevation of one or two steps. There was his arm chair, and a small table covered with a piece of rich tapestry, and furnished with all the necessary articles, with paper, pens, ink, penknives, and which were also laid before the Members of the Council.

At the right of the Emperor, but below, and on a level with us, was the Prince Arch-chancellor, with a separate small table; on his left, the Prince Arch-treasurer, who attended very seldom; and finally, at the left of the latter, M. Locre, who drew up the official account of the proceedings.

When any princes of the family happened to be present, a similar table was placed for them on the same line, and according to their respective rank. If any of the ministers were present, and they were all at liberty to attend whenever they pleased, they took their places at the side tables, at the head of the councillors of state. The enclosed space was vacant, and none ever passed through it, but the Emperor, or the Members of the Council, when proceeding to take the oath of allegiance to him.

The ushers moved silently about the hall, for the service of the members, even during the deliberations of the Council. The members left their places whenever they pleased, to obtain from their colleagues any particular documents of which they might be in want, or for any other purpose.

The upper compartments of the hall displayed allegorical paintings, relative to the functions of the Council of State, such as Justice, Commerce, Industry, &c. and the ceiling was decorated with the beautiful picture of the battle of Austerlitz, by Gros. Thus, under one of the most glorious laurels with which he ennobled France, did Napoleon preside over its internal administration.

It was in that place that for nearly eighteen months I enjoyed the inestimable advantage, the unparalleled satisfaction, of attending twice a week sittings so interesting by their special objects, and rendered still more so by the constant presence of the Emperor, who seemed to be the soul and life of the deliberations. It was there that I have seen him protract the discussions from eleven in the morning until nine at night, and display at the conclusion as much activity, copiousness, and freshness of mind and understanding as he did in the beginning, while we were ready to sink with weariness and fatigue.

While the court was at St. Cloud the council was held there, but when the sitting was to take place at too early an hour, or it was likely to last long, the Emperor adjourned the proceedings until the members could take some refreshment, which was served up in the adjacent apartment, on small tables most magnificently supplied, as if by enchantment. I may truly say, that it would be impossible to give a just idea of the fascinations we witnessed in every thing belonging to the Imperial palaces.

The hour of the Council’s sitting was regularly noticed in our letters of convocation, but the hour was generally eleven.

When a sufficient number of members was present, the Arch-Chancellor[note previously in text Arch-chancellor p2], who was always there the first, and who presided in the Emperor’s absence, opened the sitting, and called the attention of the Council to what was then called the _little order of the day_, and which solely embraced simple matters of a local nature and of mere form.

About an hour later, in general, the beating of the drum in the interior of the Palace announced the Emperor’s arrival. The grand entrance was thrown open; his Majesty was announced; all the Council rose, and the Emperor appeared, preceded by his Chamberlain and his Aide-de-Camp on duty, who presented his chair, received his hat, and continued behind him during the sitting, ready to receive and execute his orders.

The Arch-Chancellor then presented to the Emperor the _great order of the day_, which contained the series of objects under deliberation. The Emperor read them over, and pointed out in a distinct tone that which he wished to have discussed. The Councillor of State, nominated for the purpose, read his report, and the deliberations commenced.

Every member was at liberty to speak; if several rose at the same time, the order of precedence was regulated by the Emperor. The members spoke from their places sitting. No written speeches were allowed to be read; it was requisite that they should be made extemporaneously. When the Emperor thought the question, in which he usually took no inconsiderable share himself, sufficiently discussed, he made a summary of the arguments, which was always luminous, and frequently marked with novelty and point, came to a conclusion, and put it to the vote.

I have already noticed the freedom enjoyed in these debates. The animation of the speakers, increasing by degrees, became sometimes excessive, and the discussion was often protracted beyond measure, particularly when the Emperor, occupied probably with some other subject, seemed, either from distraction or something else, to be altogether ignorant of what was going on. He then commonly cast a vacant look over the hall, cut pencils with his penknife, pricked the cover of his table or the arm of his chair with the point of it, or employed his pencil or pen in scrawling whimsical marks or sketches, which, after he was gone, excited the covetous attention of the young members, who made a kind of scramble for them; and it was curious to observe, when he happened to have traced the name of some country or capital, the hyperbolical inferences that were sought to be extracted from it.

Sometimes too, when the Emperor entered the Council, as soon as his dinner was ended, and after having undergone great fatigue during the morning, he would fold his arms upon the table, lay down his head and fall asleep. The Arch-Chancellor proceeded with the deliberations, which were continued without interruption, and the Emperor, on awaking, immediately caught up the thread of the discussion, though the previous subject might have been ended and another introduced. The Emperor often asked for a glass of water and sugar; and a table in the adjoining room was always laid out with refreshments for his use, without any precautions being adopted as to the individuals who were permitted to approach it.

The Emperor, it is well known, was in the habit of taking snuff almost every minute: this was a sort of mania which seized him chiefly during intervals of abstraction. His snuff-box was speedily emptied; but he still continued to thrust his fingers into it, or to raise it to his nose, particularly when he was himself speaking. Those Chamberlains, who proved themselves most expert and assiduous in the discharge of their duties, would frequently endeavour, unobserved by the Emperor, to take away the empty box and substitute a full one in its stead; for there existed a great competition of attention and courtesy among the Chamberlains who were habitually employed in services about the Emperor’s person; an honour which was very much envied. These persons were, however, seldom changed, either because they intrigued to retain their places, or because it was naturally most agreeable to the Emperor to continue them in posts, with the duties of which they were acquainted. It was the business of the Grand Marshal (Duroc) to make all these arrangements. The following is an instance of the attentions paid by the Emperor’s Chamberlains. One of them, having observed that the Emperor on going to the theatre frequently forgot his opera-glass, of which he made constant use, got one made exactly like it, so that the first time he saw the Emperor without his glass, he presented his own to him, and the difference was not observed. On his return from the theatre, the Emperor was not a little surprised to find that he had two glasses exactly alike. Next day, he inquired how the new opera-glass had made its appearance, and the Chamberlain replied that it was one which he kept in reserve in case it might be wanted.

The Emperor always shewed himself very sensible of these attentions, which were innocent in themselves, and which were calculated to make an impression on the feelings, when dictated only by love and respect; for then the individual was not acting the part of a slavish courtier, but that of an affectionate and devoted servant. Napoleon, on his part, whatever may have been reported to the contrary in the saloons of Paris, shewed sincere regard for the persons of his household. When he quitted Paris for St. Cloud, Malmaison, or any other of his country residences, he usually invited the individuals of his household to his private evening parties; and thus was formed a pleasant family circle, admittance to which was held to be a very high honour. When in the country, he also admitted his Chamberlains to dine at his table. One day, while at dinner at Trianon, being troubled with a severe cold in his head, a complaint to which he was very subject, he found himself in want of a handkerchief; the servants immediately ran to fetch one, but meanwhile the Chamberlain on duty, who was a relation of Maria Louisa’s, drew a clean one unfolded from his pocket, and wished to take the other from the Emperor. “I thank you,” said Napoleon; “but I will never have it said that I allowed M—— to touch a handkerchief which I had used;” and he threw it on the ground.

Such was the man who in certain circles was described as being coarse and brutal, ill treating all his household, and even behaving rudely to the ladies of the palace! The Emperor, on the contrary, was a scrupulous observer of decorum. He was very sensible to all the little attentions he received; and though it was a sort of system with him to suffer no manifestation of gratitude to escape him, yet the expression of his eye or the tone of his voice sufficiently denoted what he really felt. Unlike those whose lips overflow with the expression of sentiments which their hearts never feel, Napoleon seemed to make it a rule to repress or disguise the kind emotions by which he was frequently inspired. I believe I have already mentioned this fact; but the following are some fresh proofs of it, which recur to me at this moment. These circumstances are the more characteristic, since they occurred at Longwood, where Napoleon might have been expected to indulge his natural feelings with less restraint than during the possession of his power.

I usually sat beside my son, while he wrote from the Emperor’s dictation. The Emperor always walked about the room when dictating, and he frequently stood for a moment behind my chair, to look over the writing, so that he might know where to take up the thread of his dictation. When in this situation, how many times has my head been enclosed between his arms, and even slightly pressed to his bosom! Then, immediately checking himself, he seemed to have been merely leaning with his elbows upon my shoulders, or playfully bearing all his weight upon me, as if to try my strength.

The Emperor was very fond of my son, and I have often seen him bestow a sort of manual caress on him; and then, as it were, to do away with the effect of this motion, he would immediately accompany it by some words uttered in a loud and somewhat sharp tone of voice. One day, as he was entering the drawing-room, in a moment of good-humour and forgetfulness, I saw him take Madame Bertrand’s hand and affectionately raise it to his lips; but, suddenly recollecting himself, he turned away, in a manner that would have had a very awkward effect, had not Madame Bertrand, with that exquisite grace for which she is so peculiarly distinguished, removed all embarrassment, by impressing a kiss on the hand that had been extended to her. But these stories have carried me very far from my subject. I must return to the Council of State.

All the reports, plans of resolutions, and decrees, which we had to discuss, were printed and distributed to us at our own houses. There was one subject, for example, relating to the University, which was perhaps twenty times drawn up. Others lingered for a length of time in the portfolios, or were at length totally dropped, without any cause being assigned.

On my return from my mission to Holland, just after I had been created a member of the Council of State, I rose to speak on the subject of the Conscription. I was naturally interested in all that related to naval affairs; my mind was full of enthusiasm, and was stored with the observations which I had just collected in Holland. I proposed that all the Dutch conscripts, in consideration of their natural predilections, should be permitted, if they chose, to enter the naval service; and moreover, that the privilege of this choice should be extended to all the French conscripts. I pointed out the inconveniences which such an arrangement was calculated to obviate, and developed the advantages which it was likely to ensure. I observed that it was impossible to render our seamen too numerous. Our ships’ crews, I said, would thus become regiments: the same men would at once be sailors and soldiers, gunners and pontooners; we should obtain double service at the same rate of pay. My speech had, up to this point, been as favourably received as I could wish: and in my own mind I congratulated myself on my success; when on a sudden I lost all power of utterance. The train of my ideas immediately became disconnected, and I stood mute and confounded, without knowing where I was or what I was doing. This was the first time I had ventured to speak; and I had made an extraordinary effort to surmount my natural diffidence. Profound silence reigned in the assembly, a hundred eyes were fixed upon me, and I was ready to sink under the weight of my embarrassment. I had no alternative but to confess my painful situation, to tell the Emperor, frankly, that I would rather be in a battle; and finally to ask permission to conclude my address by reading a few lines from a written paper which I had brought with me. From that moment, however, I never felt any wish to speak in the Council of State; I was completely cured of all desire to exert my eloquence in future. But, in spite of this unfortunate circumstance, my brief address had attracted the notice of the Emperor; for, a few days afterwards, the Aid-de-Camp on duty (Count Bertrand), informed me that the Emperor, while playing at billiards, seeing the Minister of the Marine enter, said to him:—"Well, Sir, Las Cases read to us, at the Council, a very good memorial on the composition of the navy; he was not at all of your opinion respecting the age at which seamen should be allowed to enter the service."

Every sitting of the Council, at which the Emperor presided, presented the highest degree of interest, for he never failed to deliver a speech himself, and all the observations that fell from him were important. I was always delighted with his speeches: but a circumstance that both surprised and vexed me was to hear some of the remarks which had fallen from the Emperor in the course of the day at the Council of State, repeated and often ill-naturedly perverted in the saloons of Paris in the evening. How could this happen? Was it owing to the inaccuracy of the individual who had reported what he heard, or to the malignity of him to whom it had been reported? Be this as it may, the fact was as I have stated.

I often entertained the idea of writing out the speeches which I had heard the Emperor deliver, and I now very deeply regret having neglected to do so. The following are a few reminiscences which occur to me at this moment:

One day, the Emperor, speaking on the political rights which it was proper to concede to persons of French origin born in foreign countries, said, “The noblest title in the world is that of being born a Frenchman; it is a title conferred by Heaven, and which no individual on earth should have the power to withdraw. For my part, I wish that every man of French origin, though he were a foreigner in the tenth generation, should still be a Frenchman, if he wishes to claim the title. Were he to present himself on the other bank of the Rhine, saying, I wish to be a Frenchman, I would have his voice to be more powerful than the law; the barriers should fall before him, and he should return triumphant to the bosom of our common mother.”

On another occasion, he said, though I do not now recollect on what subject he was speaking: “The Constituent Assembly acted very unwisely in abolishing purely titular nobility; a measure which was calculated to humble so many individuals. I do better. I confer on all Frenchmen titles, of which every one has reason to be proud.”

At another time, he used the following words, which perhaps, I have already quoted:—"I wish to raise the glory of the French name to such a pitch as to make it the envy of all nations. I will, with God’s help, bring it to pass, that in whatever part of Europe a Frenchman may travel, he shall always find himself at home."

In the Council of State a discussion once arose respecting the plan of a decree. The result of this discussion has now escaped my recollection, but I know the subject was to determine that the kings of the Imperial Families, occupying foreign thrones, should leave their titles and all the etiquette of royalty on the frontier, and only resume them on quitting France. The Emperor replying to some one who had started objections to this, and at the same time explaining the motives for the measure, said: “But for these monarchs I reserve in France a still higher title; they shall be more than kings: they shall be French Princes.”

I might multiply quotations of this kind to an endless length: they must be engraven in the recollection of all the members of the Council, as well as in mine. It will perhaps be a matter of surprise that, having seen the Emperor so frequently, and having heard him deliver sentiments such as these, I should have said, I did not know him at the period when I followed him to St. Helena. My answer is that at that time I felt, with regard to the Emperor, more of admiration and enthusiasm than of real love, arising from an intimate knowledge of his character. Even in the palace, we were assailed by so many absurd reports respecting the private character and conduct of Napoleon, and we had so little direct communication with him, that, by dint of hearing the same stories repeated over and over, I imbibed, in spite of myself, a certain degree of doubt and distrust. He was described to be of a dissembling and cunning disposition, and it was affirmed that he could, when in public, make a parade of fine sentiment, which he was totally incapable of feeling; in short, that he possessed an eloquent tongue and an insensible heart. Thus it was not until I became thoroughly acquainted with his character that I was convinced how really and truly he was what he appeared to be. Never perhaps was any man in the world so devotedly attached to France, and there was no sacrifice which he would not readily have made to preserve her glory. This is sufficiently evident from his conduct at Chatillon, and after his return from Waterloo. He expressed himself truly and energetically on his rock, when he used these remarkable words, which I have before quoted: “No, my real sufferings are not here!”

The following anecdotes have reference to other subjects, partly grave and partly humourous. One day the Councillor of State, General Gassendi, taking part in the discussion of the moment, dwelt much upon the doctrines of economists. The Emperor, who was much attached to his old artillery comrade, stopped him, saying: “My dear General, where did you gain all this knowledge? Where did you imbibe these principles?” Gassendi, who very seldom spoke in the Council, after defending himself in the best way he could, finding himself driven into his last entrenchments, replied that he had, after all, borrowed his opinions from Napoleon himself. “How?” exclaimed the Emperor, with warmth, “What do you say? Is it possible? From me, who have always thought that if there existed a monarchy of granite, the chimeras of political economists would reduce it to powder!” And after some other remarks, partly ironical and partly serious, he concluded;—"Go, General! you must have fallen asleep in your office, and have dreamed all this." Gassendi, who was rather irascible, replied, “Oh! as for falling asleep in our offices, Sire, I defy any one to do that with you, you plague us too much for that.” All the Council burst into a fit of laughter, and the Emperor laughed louder than any one.

Another time a question arose respecting the organization of the Illyrian provinces, just after they had fallen into the power of France. Those provinces, bordering on Turkey, were occupied by regiments of Croatian troops, organized on a peculiar plan. They were, in short, military colonies, the idea of which was conceived upwards of a century ago by the great Prince Eugene, for the purpose of establishing a barrier against the incursions and ravages of the Turks, and had well fulfilled the purpose for which they were destined. The committee appointed to draw up a plan for the organization of the Provinces, proposed that the Croatian regiments should be disbanded, and replaced by a national guard similar to ours. “Are you mad?” exclaimed the Emperor, on hearing the report read; “are the Croatians Frenchmen? or have you understood the excellence, utility, and importance of the institution?”—"Sire," replied the person, who conceived himself bound to defend the report, “the Turks will not now venture to resume their transgressions.”—"And why not?"—"Sire, because your majesty is become their neighbour."—"Well, and what of that?"—"Sire, they will be too much awed by your power."—"Oh yes, Sire, Sire," replied the Emperor sharply, “a truce to compliments at present, or, if you like, go and present them to the Turks, who will answer you by a discharge of musquetry, and you can return and give me an account of the affair.” The Emperor immediately decided that the Croatian regiments should be preserved.

One day, the plan of a decree respecting ambassadors was submitted to the consideration of the Council of State. This plan, though very remarkable, was, I believe, never published to the world. The coolness which the Council evinced on this subject caused the matter to be dropped; many other plans also experienced the same fate; which, it may be observed, affords an additional proof of the independence of the Council, and shews that Napoleon possessed more moderation than is generally believed.

The Emperor, who appeared to be the only individual to support the decree, and who adhered to it very firmly, made some very curious remarks in its defence. He wished that ambassadors should enjoy no prerogatives or privileges which might place them above the laws of the country. At most, he was only willing to grant that they should be subject to a higher kind of jurisdiction. “For example,” said he, "I have no objection that they should be brought to trial only after a preliminary decision of an assemblage of the ministers and high dignitaries of the empire; that they should be tried only by a special tribunal, composed of the first magistrates and functionaries of the state. It will perhaps be said that sovereigns, finding their own dignity compromised in the persons of their representatives, will not send ambassadors to my Court. Well, where will be the harm of that? I can withdraw mine from foreign Courts, and thus the country will be relieved from the burden of enormous and very frequently useless salaries. Why should ambassadors be exempt from the law? They are sent with the view of being agreeable, and for the purpose of maintaining an interchange of friendship and favour between their respective sovereigns. If they overstep the limits of their duty they should be reduced to the class of common offenders, and placed within the pale of the general law. I cannot tacitly permit ambassadors at my Court to act the part of hired spies: if I do, I must be content to be regarded as a fool, and to submit to all the mischief to which I may be exposed. It is only necessary to have the matter well understood before-hand, so as to obviate the impropriety of violating received customs, and what has hitherto been regarded as the law of nations.

“During the height of a celebrated crisis,” continued the Emperor, “I received information that a great personage had taken refuge in the house of M. de Cobentzel, conceiving that he should be protected under the immunities of the Austrian ambassador. I summoned the ambassador to my presence, in order to enquire into the truth of the fact, and to inform him that it would be most unfortunate if it were really such as it had been reported to me. I observed that custom would be nothing in my eyes when compared with the safety of a nation; and that I would without hesitation order the arrest of the criminal and his privileged protector, deliver them both up to a tribunal, and subject them to the full penalties of the law. And this I would have done, gentlemen,” added he, raising his voice. “The ambassador was aware of my determination, and therefore my wishes were obeyed without further opposition.”

Long before the expedition to Russia, perhaps a year or two before it was undertaken, the Emperor wished to establish a military classification of the Empire. At the Council of State, there were read fifteen or twenty plans for the organization of the three classes of the French national guard. The first, which was to consist of young men, was to march as far as the frontiers; the second, which was to be composed of middle-aged and married men, was not to quit the department to which it belonged; and the third, consisting of men in years, was to be kept solely for the defence of the town in which it had been raised. The Emperor, who was well convinced of the utility of this plan, frequently recurred to it, and made many patriotic remarks on the subject; but it constantly received marked disapproval from the Council, and experienced a kind of passive and silent opposition. Meanwhile, amidst the multitude of public affairs which claimed the attention of the Emperor, he lost sight of this plan, which his foresight had doubtless calculated for the safety of France, and which was likely to have ensured that result. Upwards of two millions of men would have been classed and armed at the period of our disasters. Who then would have ventured to assail us?

During a discussion on the above subject, the Emperor spoke in a very emphatic and remarkable strain. A member (M. Malouet), in a very circumlocutory style, expressed his disapproval of this plan of organization. The Emperor addressing him in his usual way, said: “Speak boldly, sir, do not mutilate your ideas: say what you have to say, freely; we are here by ourselves.” The speaker then declared “that the measure was calculated to excite general alarm; that every one trembled to find himself classed in the national guard, being persuaded that, under the pretext of internal defence, the object was to remove the guard from the country.” “Very good!” said the Emperor, “I now understand you. But, gentlemen,” continued he, addressing himself to the members of the Council, "you are all fathers of families, possessing ample fortunes, and filling important posts, you must necessarily have numerous dependents; and you must either be very awkward, or very indifferent, if, with all these advantages, you do not exercise a great influence on public opinion. Now, how happens it that you, who know me so well, should suffer me to be so little known by others? When did you ever know me to employ deception and fraud in my system of government? I am not timid, and I therefore am not accustomed to resort to indirect measures. My fault is, perhaps, to express myself too abruptly, too laconically. I merely pronounce the word, I order, and, with regard to forms and details, I trust to the intermediate agent who executes my intentions; and heaven knows, whether, on this point, I have any great reason to congratulate myself. If, therefore, I wanted troops, I should boldly demand them of the Senate, who would levy them for me; or if I could not obtain them from the Senate, I should address myself to the people, and you would see them eagerly march to join my ranks. Perhaps you are astonished to hear me say this, for sometimes you appear not to have a correct idea of the real state of things. Know, then, that, my popularity is immense, and incalculable; for, whatever may be alleged to the contrary, the whole of the French people love and respect me: their good sense is superior to the malignant reports of my enemies and the metaphysical speculations of fools. They would follow me in defiance of all. You are surprised at these declarations, but they are nevertheless true. The French people know no benefactor but me. Through me they fearlessly enjoy all that they have acquired; through me they behold their brothers and sons indiscriminately promoted, honoured, and enriched; through me they find their hands constantly employed, and their labour accompanied by its due reward. They have never had reason to accuse me of injustice or prepossession. Now, the people see, feel and comprehend all this; but they understand nothing of metaphysics. Not that I am inclined to repel true and great principles; heaven forbid that I should. On the contrary, I act upon them as much as our present extraordinary circumstances will permit; but I only mean to say, that the people do not yet understand them; while they perfectly understand me, and place implicit trust in me. Be assured, then, that the people of France will always conform to the plans which we propose for their welfare.

“Do not allow yourselves to be deceived by the supposed opposition which has just been alluded to; it exists only in the saloons of Paris, and by no means in the great body of the nation. In this plan, I solemnly declare I have no ulterior view of sending the national guard abroad; my thoughts, at this moment, are solely occupied in adopting measures at home, for the safety, repose, and stability of France. Proceed then to organize the national guard; that each citizen may know his post in the hour of need; that even M. Cambaceres, yonder, may shoulder a musket, should our danger require him so to do. We shall thus have a nation built of stone and mortar, capable of resisting the attacks both of time and men. I will moreover raise the national guard to a level with the regiments of the line: the old retired officers shall be the chiefs and the fathers of the corps. I shall have promotion in the national guard solicited as ardently as Court favours.”

All this must be contained in the registers of M. Locré, partly in discussions relative to the national guard, and partly, as well as I can recollect, on the subject of one of the annual conscriptions. I remember that one day, in particular, there was a long debate respecting the University. The Emperor had expressed himself dissatisfied with the little advancement that was observable in the institution, and the bad system on which it was conducted. M. Segur was directed to present a report on this subject, which he did with his usual candour and sincerity. He set on foot the necessary inquiries, and found that the Emperor’s plans were ill understood and badly executed. Napoleon had wished that erudition should be only a secondary object, that national principles and doctrines should take place of every thing; and yet these principles and doctrines were the subjects to which least attention was paid.

The Emperor was not present at this sitting—a circumstance which very much mortified the friends of the person principally interested in the question. We were guilty of sacrificing too much to the spirit of _coteries_. The report was never again brought forward; it was withdrawn from our portfolios, and it was made a point of some importance to get it returned from those members of the Council who had carried it home with them.

However, some time after this, the great dignitaries of the University were summoned to the bar of the Council of State. The Emperor expressed his displeasure at the bad management and the bad spirit which seemed to preside over this important institution. He observed that all his intentions were frustrated, that his plans were never properly carried into effect, &c. M. de F—— bent before the storm, and nevertheless pursued his accustomed course. The Emperor said, on his return from the Island of Elba, that he had been assured that the Grand Master of the University had made a boast to the government, which succeeded the Empire, of having done all in his power to thwart and misdirect the impulse which Napoleon wished to impart to the rising generation.

RECOLLECTIONS OF WATERLOO.

18th.—The Emperor sent for me to his study before dinner; he was busy in reading the newspapers which had just arrived. M. de Montholon solicited permission to wait on him. He informed the Emperor that Madame de Montholon had just been delivered of a daughter, and requested his Majesty to do him the honour to stand godfather to the child.

After dinner, the Emperor again looked over the papers which he had already perused, and remarked that France still remained in a state of agitation and uncertainty: he observed that the latest English papers used the most indecorous language with regard to the royal family.... One article led him to say: “Present circumstances, the necessities of the moment, and sympathies of old date, concur in favouring the return of the monks to France. This is a characteristic circumstance in France, as in the territories of the Pope.” Then, dwelling on the subject of the latter, he continued, “as for the Pope, it is his special affair, and is calculated to restore his power. Would any one believe that, while he was himself a prisoner at Fontainebleau, and while the question of his own existence was under consideration, he argued with me seriously on the existence of the monks, and endeavoured to induce me to re-establish them! That was truly like the Court of Rome!”

This day was the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. The circumstance was mentioned by some one present, and the recollection of it produced a visible impression on the Emperor. “Incomprehensible day!” said he in a tone of sorrow—"Concurrence of unheard of fatalities!—Grouchy!—Ney!—D’Erlon!—Was there treachery, or only misfortune!—Alas! poor France!—" Here he covered his eyes with his hands. “And yet,” said he, “all that human skill could do was accomplished! All was not lost until the moment when all had succeeded!”

A short time afterwards, alluding to the same subject, he exclaimed; "in that extraordinary campaign, thrice, in less than a week’s space, I saw the certain triumph of France, and the decision of her fate slip through my fingers.

“But for the desertion of a traitor, I should have annihilated the enemy at the opening of the campaign. I should have destroyed him at Ligny, if my left had done its duty.—I should have destroyed him again at Waterloo, if my right had not failed me. Singular defeat, by which, notwithstanding the most fatal catastrophe, the glory of the conquered has not suffered, nor the fame of the conqueror been encreased: the memory of the one will survive his destruction; the memory of the other will perhaps be buried in his triumph!”

DEPARTURE OF THE NORTHUMBERLAND.—ON THE INTRODUCTION AND FORM GIVEN TO THE CAMPAIGNS OF ITALY.—THE RUSSIAN CAMPAIGN, BY AN AIDE-DE-CAMP OF THE VICEROY’S.

19th.—To-day the Northumberland sailed for Europe.

This vessel had conveyed us to St. Helena; we had in the course of our voyage maintained a friendly intercourse with the officers; the crew had shewn us great kindness, and we had received attentions from Admiral Cockburn himself, towards whom we entertained more of ill-humour than absolute dislike, and whose conduct, after all, had not been of a nature to wound our feelings. Whether from all these circumstances combined, or some others which had escaped our notice, or whether owing to that powerful and natural inclination which leads us to attach ourselves to our fellow creatures, and to cherish social feelings with regard to each other, I know not; but it is certain that we did not feel indifferent to the departure of the Northumberland. It seemed as though we had lost something in thus bidding adieu to our old shipmates.

The Emperor had passed a very bad night; he bathed his feet to relieve a violent head-ache.

About one o’clock he went to take a walk in the garden, having in his hand the first volume of an English work, respecting his own life. He turned it over as he walked about. This work had evidently been written in a less malignant spirit than Goldsmith’s. It certainly exhibited less grossness; but it contained the same inventions, the same false statements, and displayed the same ignorance. The Emperor read the article relative to his childhood, and that period of his early life which he spent at College. The whole was a tissue of misrepresentation; and this led him to remark that I had been very right in suggesting that a narrative of the events of his early career should be prefixed to the campaign of Italy; and he added that what he had just read had fully confirmed him in favour of this idea.

I ought before to have mentioned that, after the dictation of the campaigns of Italy was concluded, and after it had all been arranged in chapters, the Emperor was still undecided as to the manner in which he should form an introduction to it. He had changed his mind frequently on this subject, and had conceived many different ideas, which he by turns abandoned and resumed. Sometimes he was inclined to commence with a few unimportant enterprises in which he had been engaged before the siege of Toulon; such as an expedition to Sardinia, which had failed, &c. At other times he determined to open the subject by describing the first events of the French revolution, the state of Europe and the movements of our armies. I always disapproved these ideas, which, I conceived, would carry him back to too remote a period. He had begun by dictating to me the siege of Toulon, and this I maintained to be the proper point of departure, and the most natural arrangement, since he had not undertaken to write a history, but only his private Memoirs. In this grand episode of the history of ages, he ought, I said, to appear all at once on the theatre of the world, and to occupy the fore-ground which he was destined never afterwards to quit. It was my place, as editor, to record, in any introduction which I might think proper to make, all the details of Napoleon’s early life, and of the events anterior to the period to which his own dictations referred. The Emperor approved this idea; and after discussing it one day at dinner, he decided on its adoption. The form that has been given to the campaigns of Italy was determined on by the above considerations, and to this subject the Emperor alluded in his remark just mentioned, respecting the introduction to the campaigns.

At three o’clock, the governor and the new admiral, Sir Pulteney Malcolm, were presented to the Emperor, who, though labouring under indisposition, was nevertheless very gracious and talkative.

Both before and after dinner, the Emperor amused himself by looking over a work on the Russian campaign, written by an officer who had formerly been one of the Viceroy’s aides-de-camp. The Emperor had heard it described as a most odious production; but he has been so accustomed to the attacks of libellers that declamation has but little effect upon him. In works of this kind he looks to facts only; and under this point of view he did not find the publication in question so bad as it had been represented to him. “An historian,” said he, “would select from it only what is good; he would take the facts and omit the declamation, which is only calculated to please fools. The author of this work proves that the Russians themselves burnt Moscow, Smolensko, &c.; he describes the French as having been victorious in every engagement. The facts that are to be found in this work,” continued the Emperor, "have evidently been described for the purpose of being published during my reign, in the period of my power. The declamatory passages have been interpolated since my fall. The author could not easily pervert the ground-work of his subject, though he has interspersed it with abusive remarks after the fashion of the day.

“As to the disasters of my retreat, I left him nothing to say any more than other libellers. My 29th bulletin plunged them into despair. In their rage they accused me of exaggeration. They were provoked to a pitch of madness. I thus deprived them of an excellent subject, I carried off their prey.”

The Emperor quoted several passages from the works of this and some other French authors, all of whom declaimed against their countrymen, and gave a false picture of their achievements. He could not refrain from observing that it was a circumstance unexampled in history to see a nation strive to depreciate her own glory, to see her own sons thus intent on destroying her trophies. “But from the bosom of France avengers will doubtless arise. Posterity will brand with disgrace the madness of the present day. Can these be Frenchmen,” he exclaimed, “who speak and write in this strain? Are their hearts dead to every spark of patriotism?—But no, they cannot be Frenchmen! They speak our language, it is true; they were born on the same soil with us; but they are not animated by the feelings and principles of Frenchmen!”

PROPHETIC REMARKS.—LORD HOLLAND.—THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES.—CONVERSATION RELATING TO MYSELF.

21st.—The Emperor took a walk in the garden attended by his suite. The conversation turned on the possibility of our returning to Europe and seeing France once more. “My dear friends,” said he, in a tone of sincere feeling, and with an expression which it is impossible to describe, “you will return!”—"Not without you," we all exclaimed with one voice. This led us once more to analyze the probable chances of our quitting St. Helena, and all yielded to the necessity of admitting that our removal could only take place through the intervention of the English. But the Emperor could not imagine how this intervention was likely to be brought about. “The impression is made,” said he; “it has taken too deep a root; they will everlastingly fear me. Pitt told them, There can be no safety for you, with a man who has a whole invasion in his single head.” “But,” observed some one present, “suppose new interests should arise in England; suppose a truly constitutional and liberal ministry should be established, would the English government find no advantage in fixing through you, Sire, liberal principles in France, and thereby propagating them throughout Europe?” “Certainly,” replied the Emperor, “I admit all this.” “Well then,” continued the individual who had first spoken, “would not this constitutional administration find a guarantee in these liberal principles and in your own interests?” “I admit this also,” replied the Emperor. "I can suppose Lord Holland, as Prime Minister of England, writing to me at Paris: If you do so and so I shall be ruined; or the Princess Charlotte of Wales, whom we will suppose to have removed me hence, saying to me: If you act thus, I shall be hated and shall be looked upon as the scourge of my country. At these words I should stop short:—they would arrest me in my career more effectually than armies.

“And after all, what is there to fear? That I should wage war? I am now too old for that. Is it feared that I should resume my pursuit of glory? I have enjoyed glory even to satiety. I have wallowed in it; and it may be said to be a thing which I have henceforth rendered at once common and difficult. Is it supposed that I would recommence my conquests? I did not persevere in them through mania; they were the result of a great plan, and I may even say that I was urged to them by necessity. They were reasonable at the moment when I pursued them; but they would now be impossible. They were practicable once; but now it would be madness to attempt them. And besides, the convulsions and misfortunes to which France has been subjected will henceforth produce so many difficulties, that to remove them will be a sufficient source of glory without seeking for any other.”

Two of the gentlemen of the Emperor’s suite had been to the town to see the persons who had newly arrived at the Island, and to hear the news of the day. The account which they delivered on their return occupied the Emperor’s attention for some minutes in the garden. About six o’clock he proceeded to his closet, desiring me to follow him; and by chance a conversation was introduced, which to me was in the highest degree interesting and valuable. Though the subject of this conversation relates to myself personally, yet I cannot pass it over in silence; it develops so many characteristic traits of the Emperor, that these would furnish a sufficient apology for my laying it before the reader, were any apology necessary.

The persons who had arrived by the Newcastle had spoken much of my Historical Atlas, which led the Emperor again to remark on the extraordinary celebrity of the work, and to express his surprise that he should not sooner have become thoroughly acquainted with it.

“How happened it,” said he, “that none of your friends should have given me a correct idea of it? I never saw it until I was on board the Northumberland, and now I find it is known to every body. How came you never to call my attention to it yourself? I should have appreciated your merits, and should have made your fortune. I had formed a confused and indifferent idea of your work, which perhaps influenced my mind unfavourably with respect to yourself. Such is the misfortune of Sovereigns; for doubtless no one entertained better intentions than myself. Those who filled posts about my person might easily have brought me to render full justice to the merit of your work; for it was a thing that I could myself judge of, and I asked nothing more. Since I have become acquainted with your tables, and am enabled to form a correct notion of their valuable classification, and the indelible impression which they are calculated to make on the memory, with regard to dates, places, and collateral relations, I regret not having established a kind of Normal School, in which the students should have been uniformly instructed by the help of the Historical Atlas. Our Lyceums would have been inundated with your work, or parts of it, and I would have ensured to it the utmost degree of celebrity. Why, I say again, did you not call my attention to it? It is painful to confess the secret; but it is nevertheless true, that a little intrigue is indispensable to those who wish to gain the favour of Sovereigns; modest merit is almost always neglected. But, perhaps, after all, Clarke, Decrès, Montalivet, M. de Montesquiou, or even Barbier, my librarian, might have withheld the hints which you intended they should throw out to me; for it is another mortifying truth, that favours are sometimes more attainable through the medium of the _valet-de-chambre_ than by a higher channel! And how happened it, that your friend Madame de S.... did not speak to me of your work? We frequently rode in the same carriage together; and she might have secured to you all the advantages she could have wished, by describing your real merits to me.”—"Yes, Sire," I replied, “but at that time I....” “I understand you. You did not then perhaps seek favours?” “Sire, my hour had not yet arrived.” Then ensued a very long explanation respecting my first introduction to the Emperor, the missions to which he had appointed me, the opinion which he had formed of me, and which, according to custom, had remained permanently fixed in his mind.

All this time I was standing near the writing-table in the second chamber, while the Emperor walked backward and forward through the whole length of both rooms. The subject of the conversation was to me most interesting. But, to form a just conception of my feelings at this moment, it would be necessary to look back to the time of Napoleon’s power, to that period when no one dared hope to know his thoughts, or ever to suppose the possibility of conversing familiarly and confidentially with him. Such a happy circumstance would then have appeared to me a dream: and now I almost regard it as a conversation in the Elysian Fields.

“I had no correct idea of you,” said the Emperor, "I had no precise knowledge of anything that concerned you. You had no friend near me to commend you to my notice, and you neglected to put yourself forward. Some of those persons on whom perhaps you thought you could rely even acted in a way prejudicial to your interest. I knew nothing of your work; if I had, it would have been a powerful circumstance in your favour. I was not aware that you had, like myself, attended the military school at Paris; that would have been another claim to my notice.

“You had been an emigrant, you would therefore never have enjoyed my full confidence. I knew that you had been much attached to the Bourbons; you would therefore never have been initiated in the great secrets of my government.”—"But Sire," I replied, “your Majesty permitted me to approach your person, you made me a Councillor of State, and entrusted me with various missions.”—"That was because I conceived you to be an honest man; and besides, I am not of a distrustful disposition. Without knowing why, I considered you to be a man of pure integrity in all that regarded pecuniary matters. If you had only mentioned a single word to me about your affair of the commercial licenses with P....[——?], I would have instantly rendered you justice. But, I say again, I should never have employed you in any political affair."—"Then, Sire," said I, “what risk did I not run, when in Paris and Holland! The English were then situated with respect to us, as we now are with respect to them, and, influenced by my old connections, I ventured in spite of your regulations to forward their letters, when they appeared to me to contain nothing objectionable. To what danger should I not have been exposed had my conduct led to any accusation on the part of the Minister of Police! And yet I conceived that I was only making a very natural and discretionary use of the powers with which Your Majesty had entrusted me, and the confidence which you had reposed in me. I felt so satisfied in my own conscience, and was so convinced of the propriety of my intentions, that I thought myself exempt from the observance of regulations which seemed not to have been made for me.”—"Well," observed the Emperor, “I could have conceived all this, I should readily have given you credit for such an explanation of your conduct; for no one is more ready to listen to reason than I. This was precisely the manner in which I wished duty to be performed; and yet it is certain that you would have been condemned had your conduct been the subject of enquiry, because all would have raised their voices against you. Such was the fatality of circumstances and the misfortune of my situation. Besides, when once I conceived a prejudice, I retained it: this again was the misfortune of my situation and my circumstances. But how could it be otherwise? I had no time for details. I could only take into consideration summaries and abstracts. I was very sure that I might sometimes be deceived; but where was my alternative? Few sovereigns have done better than I.”

“Sire,” said I, “I experienced deep mortification, at finding that your Majesty never addressed a word to me at your Court circles and levees. And yet you never failed to speak of me to my wife when I happened to be absent: I sometimes thought that I was not well known to you, or feared, particularly during later times, that your Majesty had some cause to be displeased with me.”—"By no means," resumed the Emperor; “if I spoke of you when absent, it was because I made it a rule always to speak to ladies about their husbands when the latter were sent on missions. If I neglected you when present, it was because I attached too little value to you. It was the same with many other individuals; you were confounded with the mass, you held only an ordinary rank in my regard. You were permitted to approach me, and yet you did not turn this privilege to good account; you were sent on missions, and yet you neglected to reap the benefit of these appointments on your return home. It is a great fault to keep in the back-ground at court. To my eyes you were in fact a mere blank. Nevertheless, I recollect that I sometimes entertained thoughts of employing you. The person connected with the ministry, on whom you in some measure depended, who declared himself to be your friend, and who had it in his power to serve you, diverted my attention from you, and contributed to keep up my indifference towards you. He knew you well, and perhaps feared you; and it is well known that in all cases I went rapidly to work.”—"Sire," I replied, “my situation was the more painful, since my friends were constantly congratulating me on the favours which I received at Court, and predicting the brilliant fortune that awaited me. Reports were continually raised of my having been appointed to all sorts of posts:—sometimes it was asserted that I had been created Maritime Prefect of Brest, Toulon, or Antwerp; that I had been made Minister of the Interior or of the Marine; or that I had received an important trust connected with the education of the King of Rome, &c.”—"Well," said the Emperor, “now that you call the matter to my recollection, some of these reports were not entirely destitute of foundation. I certainly did entertain the idea of employing you to assist in the education of the King of Rome; and I also intended, on your return to Holland, to appoint you to be Maritime Prefect of Toulon, which at that time I regarded as a sort of ministry. There were five-and-twenty ships of the line in the roads, and I wished to augment their number. In this instance, your friend, the Minister, turned my attention from you. You belonged to the old navy, he observed; your prejudices and those of the new officers must inevitably clash together. This appeared to me a decided objection to your appointment, and I thought no more about you; but now, since I have come to know you, I find that you were precisely the man I wanted. I think, too, that I entertained some other ideas respecting your advancement; but I must again repeat that you neglected your own interests. You retreated when you ought to have advanced. Need I tell you that, with the best intentions on my part, the chance against procuring an appointment to an important post was as great as that of winning a prize in the lottery. An idea occurred to me, and I formed my decision; but if that decision were not immediately carried into effect, it escaped my recollection; for I had so much business on my hands. A luckier candidate was then proposed, and he was installed in office.—But I interrupt you....”

“Sire,” continued I, "being ignorant of your Majesty’s kind intentions respecting me, I was placed in a situation truly ridiculous, amidst the numerous congratulations that I received. I endeavoured to extricate myself from all this embarrassment with the best possible grace; but the more efforts I made for this purpose, the more I was blamed for my modesty. I never asked your Majesty for more than one thing, and that was the situation of Master of Requests, which was immediately granted to me. Clarke reproached me with having lowered my dignity by making such a solicitation. He said that I should have asked to be made a Councillor of State; and that your Majesty would have granted my request."—"No," replied the Emperor, “I did not know you well enough for that. I should have looked upon such a request as the result of silly ambition.”—" Sire," I observed, “I had sufficient tact to guess what your opinion would be.”—"Well,“ continued the Emperor, that was odd enough. But perhaps Clarke was right after all. The solicitation of the inferior post of Master of Requests might have injured you in my opinion; that is to say, it might have tended to fix you in the rank in which I had classed you. I was very well pleased to see my chamberlains have something to do; but Master of Requests was too trivial a post. It is curious,” continued he, “how my memory revives, now that I am speaking on this subject. You had performed detached services, which had rapidly escaped my recollection, because my attention had never been directed to them. If they had been presented to my notice all in a mass, they must have given me a very different opinion of you. You served as a volunteer at Flushing. I knew this; and what I should have regarded as a mere matter of course in any other individual, forcibly struck me in an emigrant, who had for this purpose quitted his family, and who was not without fortune.”—"Sire, I received the most gratifying reward on my return. Your Majesty spoke to me on the subject."—"But," said he, “you suffered this to be lost in the flood of oblivion. You addressed several written communications to me. All these things occur to my recollection by degrees. You transmitted to me some plans respecting the Adriatic Sea, with which I was much pleased. The suggestion was to get possession of the Adriatic, and to establish a fleet there. Ships could have been built at no vast expense, with the wood produced in the immense forests of Croatia. I submitted the whole to the Minister, who never more mentioned the subject to me. But you presented some other things to my notice.”—"Sire, you probably allude to the ideas respecting the system of maritime warfare to be adopted against England, accompanied by an explanatory map."—"Yes, I recollect. The map lay for several days on the desk in my closet. I expressed a wish to see you; but you were absent on a mission."

“Sire, about the same time I had the honour to address to you a plan for transforming the Champ-de-Mars into a _Naumachia_, which would have been an ornament to the palace of the King of Rome. I proposed that the basin should be dug sufficiently deep to admit the launching of small corvettes, which might have been built, rigged, manned and worked by the pupils of the naval school, which, according to my plan, was to be established at the military school. All the Princes of the Imperial house might have been required to devote themselves to these naval exercises for the space of two years, whatever might have been their ultimate destination. Your Majesty might have induced the distinguished families of the empire thus to procure for their sons a knowledge of naval affairs. I doubted not that all these circumstances combined, and the spectacle presented to the capital, would infallibly have rendered the navy at once popular and national in France.”—"Ah! I was not aware of the extent of your plan," said the Emperor, in whose mind every idea immediately became magnified. “This design would have pleased me. It might have produced immense results. From this plan there was but a step to that of rendering the Seine navigable, and cutting a canal from Paris to the sea. This could not have been regarded as too stupendous an enterprise; for more was done by the Romans in ancient times, and more has already been effected by the Chinese of the present day. It would have afforded a pastime to the army in time of peace. I had conceived many plans of the same kind. But our enemies kept me chained to war. Of what glory have they robbed me!... But continue.”—

"Sire, I also submitted to your Majesty’s consideration some ideas respecting the completion of the naval schools."—"Did I adopt them in the schools which I established?" inquired the Emperor. “Did your opinions coincide with mine?” “Sire, the plans for your schools were already determined on; I merely suggested a few hints for their completion.”—"Oh, now I recollect something of the matter. But I think your ideas were a little too democratic; were they not?"—"No, Sire, I set out from the principle that your Majesty had provided for the exclusive competition of the intermediate class, and I proposed to add below it all the chances that might be presented by the competition of seamen; and above it, all the chances that might arise out of the competition of individuals connected with the Court."—"Yes, I recollect," said the Emperor, "your ideas were novel and singular, and they attracted my attention. I submitted the plan to the Minister, who either kept it for his own use, or turned it into ridicule. I also remember that, in the correspondence relative to your mission to Holland, which I ordered to be laid before me, there was mentioned a plan for removing our ships from the German Ocean to the Baltic, by means of canals, which should unite the Elbe, the Oder, and the Vistula. This idea pleased me; it was after my own taste. And on your return, seeing you at my levee, I was about to propose to you some measure for the execution of your plan. But you did not seem to comprehend my questions, or you gave me unsatisfactory and undecided answers. I concluded that the ideas had probably been suggested by some one else, and that you were taking credit for them. I therefore left you, and turned to speak to your neighbour. I was to blame for acting thus precipitately; but I could not help it.

"When I call to mind all these circumstances, I find that I had so many motives for bestowing attention on you, that I am astonished I should have neglected you: and I cannot help thinking that you must have manœuvred admirably, before you could have succeeded in withdrawing yourself so completely from my notice. It is very certain that all these facts have but just now occurred to me: and at the period of our departure, and some time afterwards, you were, with the exception of your name and person, a stranger to me. I looked upon you as one of whom I knew nothing. How do you account for this? You cannot perhaps explain it; but it is nevertheless true.

“I ask again, why you did not avail yourself of the good offices of your friends; or why you did not appeal to me in person?”—"Sire, those who enjoyed the privilege of approaching nearest to your person were intent only on advancing their own interests. Their friendship did not extend beyond mere good wishes. To speak a word for another was what they called using their influence; and that was reserved solely for their own advantage. Besides, even though I had had the opportunity of speaking for myself, I should always have preferred others to speak for me. You, Sire, had but little leisure, your arrangements were very uncertain, it was necessary to explain every thing to you in few words. At the same time, I had so little confidence in myself, and was so fearful of creating an unfavourable impression, that I preferred withdrawing myself from your notice. For it was not sufficient to enter into intrigue; it was necessary that the intrigue should be brought to a result."—"Perhaps it was as well after all," said the Emperor. “You have judged the matter rightly; for, even had I known as much of you as I now do, your reserve and timidity would perhaps have ruined you. I now recollect a circumstance, which probably operated to your prejudice. When M. de Montesquiou proposed you as Chamberlain, he represented you as being possessed of vast fortune; but I soon learned the contrary. I do not mean to say that this circumstance was in any way injurious to you, or that it afforded any ground of objection to you personally; but other individuals, who wished to be appointed Chamberlains, complained of not having been preferred on account of their superior fortune, or quoted your example, if they thought themselves neglected on the score of their poverty. This is the way at Court.”

“It appears evident, Sire, that, with my character, I was destined never to be known to your Majesty.”—"Yes,“ said the Emperor and it had nearly happened so. But yet, on my return, did I not appoint you a Chamberlain? and their number was very limited. Did I not immediately create you a Councillor of State? You had been a member of the old aristocracy, you had been an emigrant, and you had undergone great trials; all these were powerful recommendations to me. Besides, at that time, so many voices were raised in praise of your conduct that, sooner or later, I must have known you thoroughly.”

ARRIVAL OF THE LIBRARY.—HORNEMANN’S TESTIMONY IN FAVOUR OF GENERAL BONAPARTE.

22nd.—To-day the weather was very bad. The Emperor sent for me about three o’clock. He was in the topographical cabinet, surrounded by all the persons of his suite, who were engaged in unpacking some boxes of books which had arrived by the Newcastle. The Emperor himself helped to unpack, and seemed to be highly amused with the occupation. Men naturally adapt themselves to their circumstances: their enjoyments are trivial in proportion as their sufferings are severe. On seeing the file of Moniteurs, which had been so long expected, he expressed unfeigned delight: he took it up and began eagerly to peruse it.

After dinner the Emperor looked over Park’s and Hornemann’s Travels in Africa, and he traced their course on my Atlas. In these narratives, Hornemann, and the African Society of London, bore ample testimony to the generous assistance they had received from the General-in-chief of the army of Egypt (Napoleon), who had seized every opportunity of promoting their discoveries. The polite and handsome manner in which these facts were mentioned was very gratifying to the Emperor, who had been long accustomed to find his name connected with insulting epithets.

ON MEMORY.—TRADE.—NAPOLEON’S IDEAS AND PLANS ON SEVERAL POINTS OF POLITICAL ECONOMY.

23rd.—I attended the Emperor about three o’clock. He had been so delighted at the receipt of his new books that he had passed the whole night in reading and dictating notes to Marchand. He was very much fatigued; but my visit afforded him a little respite. He dressed and went out to walk in the garden.

During dinner the Emperor alluded to his immense reading in his youth; and he found, from all the books he had perused relative to Egypt, that he had scarcely any thing to correct in what he had dictated on Egypt: he had stated many facts which he had not read, but which, on reference to these books, he found to be correct.

The conversation turned on the subject of memory. The Emperor remarked that a head without memory was like a garrison without fortifications. His he said was a useful kind of memory. It was not general and absolute; but relative, faithful, and only retentive of what was necessary. Some one present observed that his own memory was like his sight, that it became confused by the distance of places and objects, as he removed from one situation to another; upon which the Emperor replied that, for his part, his memory was like his heart, that it preserved a faithful impression of all that ever had been dear to him.

A-propos of good memory and fond recollections, I must here note down a remark of the Emperor’s, which I omitted to mention at the time it was made. One day at dinner, while describing one of his engagements in Egypt, he named numerically the eight or ten demi-brigades which had been engaged. On hearing this, Madame Bertrand could not refrain from asking how, after so long a time, he could possibly recollect all these numbers. "Madame, this is a lover’s recollection of his former mistresses," was Napoleon’s reply.

After dinner, the Emperor ordered my Atlas to be brought to him, for the purpose of verifying the particulars which he had collected in his books on Africa, and he was astonished to find every thing correspond so accurately.

He then began to converse on trade, and the principles and systems which he had introduced. He opposed the principles of economists, which he said were correct in theory, though erroneous in their application. The political constitution of different states, continued he, must render these principles defective; local circumstances continually call for deviations from their uniformity. Duties, he said, which were so severely condemned by political economists, should not, it is true, be an object to the exchequer: they should be the guarantee and protection of a nation, and should correspond with the nature and the objects of its trade. Holland, which is destitute of productions and manufactures, and which has a trade only of transit and commission, should be free from all fetters and barriers. France, on the contrary, which is rich in every sort of production and manufactures, should incessantly guard against the importations of a rival, who might still continue superior to her, and also against the cupidity, egotism, and indifference of mere brokers.

“I have not fallen into the error of modern systematizers,” said the Emperor, "who imagine that all the wisdom of nations is centered in themselves. Experience is the true wisdom of nations. And what does all the reasoning of economists amount to? They incessantly extol the prosperity of England, and hold her up as our model; but the Custom-House system is more burthensome and arbitrary in England than in any other country. They also condemn prohibitions; yet it was England that set the example of prohibitions, and they are in fact necessary with regard to certain objects. Duties cannot adequately supply the place of prohibitions: there will always be found means to defeat the object of the legislator. In France we are still very far behind on these delicate points, which are still unperceived or ill-understood by the mass of society. Yet what advancement have we not made! What correctness of ideas has been introduced by my gradual classification of agriculture, industry, and trade; objects so distinct in themselves, and which present so great and positive a graduation!

"1st.—_Agriculture_; the soul, the first basis of the empire.

"2nd.—_Industry_; the comfort and happiness of the population.

"3rd.—_Foreign trade_; the superabundance, the proper application of the surplus of agriculture and industry.

"Agriculture was continually improving during the whole course of the Revolution. Foreigners thought it ruined in France. In 1814, however, the English were compelled to admit that we had little or nothing to learn from them.

"Industry or manufactures, and internal trade, made immense progress during my reign. The application of chemistry to the manufactures caused them to advance with giant strides. I gave an impulse, the effects of which extended throughout Europe.

"Foreign trade, which in its results is infinitely inferior to agriculture, was an object of subordinate importance in my mind. Foreign trade is made for agriculture and home industry, and not the two latter for the former. The interests of these three fundamental bases are diverging and frequently conflicting. I always promoted them in their natural gradation; but I could not, and ought not to have ranked them all on an equality. Time will unfold what I have done, the national resources which I created, and the emancipation from the English which I brought about. We have now the secret of the commercial treaty of 1783. France still exclaims against its author; but the English demanded it on pain of resuming the war. They wished to do the same after the treaty of Amiens; but I was then all-powerful; I was a hundred cubits high. I replied that if they were in possession of the heights of Montmartre I would still refuse to sign the treaty. These words were echoed through Europe.

The English will now impose some such treaty on France, at least if popular clamour, and the opposition of the mass of the nation, do not force them to draw back. This thraldom would be an additional disgrace in the eyes of that nation, which is now beginning to acquire a just perception of her own interests.

"When I came to the head of the government, the American ships, which were permitted to enter our ports on the score of their neutrality, brought us raw materials, and had the impudence to sail from France without freight, for the purpose of taking in cargoes of English goods in London. They moreover had the insolence to make their payments, when they had any to make, by giving bills on persons in London. Hence the vast profits reaped by the English manufacturers and brokers, entirely to our prejudice. I made a law that no American should import goods to any amount, without immediately exporting their exact equivalent. A loud outcry was raised against this: it was said that I had ruined trade. But what was the consequence? Notwithstanding the closing of my ports, and in spite of the English who ruled the seas, the Americans returned and submitted to my regulations. What might I not have done under more favourable circumstances?

"Thus I naturalized in France the manufacture of cotton, which includes:—

"1st. _Spun-cotton._—We did not previously spin it ourselves; the English supplied us with it as a sort of favour.

"2nd. _The woven-stuff._—We did not yet make it; it came to us from abroad.

"3rd. _The printing._—This was the only part of the manufacture that we performed ourselves. I wished to naturalize the two first branches; and I proposed to the Council of State that their importation should be prohibited. This excited great alarm. I sent for Oberkamp, and I conversed with him a long time. I learned from him that this prohibition would doubtless produce a shock, but that, after a year or two of perseverance, it would prove a triumph, from which we should derive immense advantages. Then I issued my decree in spite of all; this was a true piece of statesmanship.

"I at first confined myself merely to prohibiting wove-cottons; then I extended the prohibition to spun cotton; and we now possess within ourselves the three branches of the cotton manufacture, to the great benefit of our population, and the injury and regret of the English:—which proves that, in civil government as well as in war, decision of character is often indispensable to success. I offered a million of francs as a reward for the discovery of a method of spinning flax like cotton, and this discovery would undoubtedly have been made,[24] but for our unfortunate circumstances. I should then have prohibited cotton, if I could not have naturalized it on the continent.

Footnote 24:

Flax is actually now spun like cotton at Verviers and Liege.

"The encouragement of the production of silk was an object that equally claimed my attention. As Emperor of France and King of Italy I calculated on receiving an annual revenue of 120 millions from the production of silk.

"The system of commercial licenses was no doubt mischievous! Heaven forbid that I should have laid it down as a principle. It was the invention of the English; with me it was only a momentary resource. Even the continental system, in its extent and rigour, was by me regarded merely as a measure occasioned by the war and temporary circumstances.

“The difficulties, and even the total stagnation, of foreign trade during my reign arose out of the force of circumstances and the accidents of the time. One brief interval of peace would immediately have restored it to its natural level.”

ARTILLERY.—ITS USE.—ITS DEFECTS.—OLD SCHOOLS.

24th.—The Emperor informed us that he had spent full four-and-twenty hours in reading the Moniteur on the subject of the Constituent Assembly. He said that he had found these accounts as amusing as a romance; they mark the first rise of those men who had, at a later period, played so distinguished a part. However, he said, it was necessary to have an idea of the external springs of action, otherwise the reports of the proceedings of the Constituent Assembly lost much of their interest, and were frequently unintelligible. The spirit of the first moments, the first interests, of the Revolution remained entirely hidden.

After dinner the Emperor conversed on the subject of Artillery. He had wished for more uniformity and less of subdivision in the pieces. The general was often unable to judge of the best mode of employing them, and nothing could be superior to the advantages of uniformity in all the instruments and accessories of war.

The Emperor observed that in general the artillery did not fire sufficiently in a battle. The principal consideration in war is that there should be no want of ammunition. When there is an actual scarcity, of course, that forms an exception; but, in every other case, it is necessary to fire incessantly. The Emperor, who had himself often been nearly killed by spent balls, and who knew how important such an event would have been to the fate of the battle or the campaign, maintained the propriety of firing continually, without calculating expense. Moreover, he said, that if he wished to avoid the post of danger, he would station himself at the distance of 300 toises, rather than at 600. At the first-mentioned point, the balls frequently pass over the head; but at the latter they must fall somewhere or other.

He remarked, that it was impossible to make artillery fire on masses of infantry, when they were themselves assailed by an opposite battery. This arises from natural cowardice, said he, good-humouredly, from the irresistible instinct of self-preservation. An artillery-officer who was among us protested against this observation.—"It is nevertheless true," continued the Emperor; “you immediately stand on your guard against the enemy who attacks you. You seek to destroy him, lest he should destroy you. You often desist from firing, that he may cease to harass you, and direct his charge against the masses of infantry, who are of much greater importance to the fate of the battle.”

The Emperor frequently adverted to the corps of artillery, in which he had served in his youth. He said that it was the best constituted corps in Europe. It was a sort of family service. The officers were quite of a paternal turn, the bravest and worthiest men in the world, pure as gold. They were somewhat too far advanced in life, because the peace had continued too long. The young men laughed at them, because sarcasm and irony were the fashion of the day; but they adored them, and never failed to render justice to their merits.[25]

Footnote 25:

Napoleon, in his will, has given proof of this sentiment by a bequest in favour of Baron Duthiel, his old chief of artillery, or his children, “as a token of gratitude,” so he wrote with his own hand, “for the attention which that brave general paid to us, when, as lieutenant and captain, we were under his command.”

25th.—We have received the third and last package of books brought by the frigate. The Emperor has greatly fatigued himself by assisting to unpack and arrange them.

About three o’clock, several persons were presented to the Emperor; among others, the Admiral and his lady. The Emperor was indisposed, and he dined in his own chamber, attended by the Grand Marshal.

CAMPAIGN OF ITALY.—THE EMPEROR’S OPINION OF GENERAL

DROUOT.—ON THE BATTLE OF HOHENLINDEN.

26th.—The Emperor sent for me and my son, and set us to look over the Moniteur, for the purpose of comparing and completing the manuscript of the Campaigns of Italy.

The Emperor, though he had announced his intention of doing so, had not yet resumed his dictations, and I rejoiced at a circumstance which promised at length to excite renewed interest.

Our business was to select from the Moniteur all the reports and official letters, for the purpose of vouchers. The Emperor wished them to be properly classed, and desired us to make an estimate of their extent, in order that he might be able to calculate at once the space they would occupy when printed, reminding me at the same time that these were henceforth my own affairs; that I should only be serving myself for the future. Delightful words, to which the tone of his voice, his familiar air, and his whole expression, imparted even more value than was conveyed in their meaning!

To-day, during dinner, the Emperor again reviewed the character of his Generals. He passed an eulogium on several of them, the greater number of whom are now no more. He bestowed the highest praise on the talents of General Drouot. Every thing in life is a problem, said he; it is only by what is known that we can come at what is unknown. He observed that he knew to a certainty that General Drouot possessed every quality necessary to make a great General. He had sufficient reasons for supposing him superior to many of his Marshals. He had no hesitation in believing him capable of commanding 100,000 men. “And perhaps,” added he, “he was far from thinking so himself, which, after all, can only be regarded as an additional good quality.”

He again alluded to the prodigious valour of Murat and Ney, whose courage, he said, so often outstripped their judgment. Such is the enigma, said he, of certain actions in certain individuals: the inequality between disposition and understanding explains all.

The conversation turned on the battle of Hohenlinden. The Emperor remarked that “it was one of those great triumphs that are brought about by chance, and obtained without plan. Moreau, he repeated, was destitute of invention; he was not sufficiently decided; and, therefore, he was most fit to be employed on the defensive. Hohenlinden was a confused sort of affair; the enemy had been unexpectedly attacked amidst his own operations, and was conquered by troops whom he had already broken and nearly destroyed. The merit rested chiefly with the troops and generals of the partial corps, who had been most exposed to danger, and who had fought like heroes.”

When speaking of the campaigns of Italy, we observed to the Emperor that the rapid succession of his daily victories, which filled the mouth of fame, must have been a source of great delight to him.—"By no means," replied he. “At least they were supposed to have been so by those who were at a distance from the scene of conflict.”—"That may be; those who were at a distance knew only our success; they knew nothing of our situation. If those victories could have procured me pleasure, I should have enjoyed repose. But I had always the aspect of danger before me, and the victory of to-day was speedily forgotten through the obligation of gaining another to-morrow."

I recollect having heard a distinguished General (Lamarque) deliver a very characteristic opinion of Moreau. Lamarque had been much attached to Moreau, and had for a long time served under him. He was endeavouring to make me understand the different tactics of Moreau and Napoleon. He said:—"Had their two armies been in presence, and there had been sufficient time to move, I would have entered the ranks of Moreau, which were sure to be managed with the utmost regularity, precision, and calculation. On these points, it was impossible to excel, or even to equal, Moreau. But if the two armies had to approach from points a hundred leagues distant from each other, the Emperor would have routed his adversary three, four, or five times over, before the latter could have had time to look about him."

ANNOYANCE FROM RATS.—LORD CASTLEREAGH’S IMPOSTURES.—FRENCH HEIRESSES.

Thursday, 27th.—We had nearly gone without our breakfast: an incursion of the rats, which had entered our kitchen from several points, during the night, had deprived us of every thing eatable. We are much infested with these vermin; they are of enormous size, and very daring and mischievous; it took them very little time to penetrate our walls and floors. Attracted by the smell of the victuals, they even made their way into our drawing-room whilst we were at dinner. We were several times obliged to give them battle after the dessert; and one evening, when the Emperor wished to retire, and his hat was handed to him, a rat of the largest size jumped out of it. Our grooms had tried to rear some poultry, but they were compelled to abandon the attempt, because the rats devoured all the fowls. They would even seize them in the night on their perches.

The Emperor was this day translating some review or journal, in which it was mentioned that Lord Castlereagh had asserted at a public meeting that Napoleon, even since his fall, had not hesitated to declare that, so long as he should have reigned, he would have continued to make war against England, having never had any object but that of her destruction.

The Emperor could not help feeling provoked by these words. “Lord Castlereagh,” said he, with indignation, “must be much accustomed to lying, and must place great dependence on the credulity of his auditors. Can their own good sense allow them to believe that I could ever make such a foolish speech, even if I had had such intentions!”

It was afterwards stated that Lord Castlereagh had said, in parliament, that the reason why the French army was so much attached to Bonaparte was that he made a kind of conscription of all the heiresses of the empire, and then distributed them amongst his generals. “Here again,” observed the Emperor, “Lord Castlereagh tells a wilful falsehood. He came amongst us; he had an opportunity of seeing our manners and laws, and of knowing the truth; he must be certain that such a thing was quite impracticable and out of my power. What does he take our nation for? The French were never capable of submitting to such tyranny. I have, no doubt, made a great number of matches; and I would gladly have made thousands more; it was one of the most effectual methods of amalgamating and uniting irreconcileable factions. If I had had more time to myself, I would have taken great pains to extend these unions to the provinces, and even to the Confederation of the Rhine, in order to strengthen the connection of those distant portions of the empire with France; but in such proceedings, I exerted only my influence, and never my authority. Lord Castlereagh disregards such distinctions; it is important to his policy to render me odious; he is not scrupulous about the means; he does not shrink from any calumny; he has every advantage over me. I am in chains; he has taken all possible precautions for keeping my mouth shut, and preventing the possibility of my making any reply, and I am a thousand leagues from the scene of action; his position is commanding; nothing stands in his way. But certainly this conduct is the _ne plus ultra_ of impudence, baseness, and cowardice.”

I shall now introduce an instance which may serve to prove the truth of the foregoing assertion of Napoleon with respect to French heiresses. I had the account from the lips of the person chiefly interested.

M. d’Aligre had a daughter who was heiress to immense property: the Emperor conceived the idea of marrying her to M. de Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza, for whom he had such a particular regard that he was looked upon as a kind of favourite. His personal qualities, not less than his high official employment, rendered him one of the first personages in the empire. The Emperor, therefore, never imagined that there could be the slightest impediment to this union. He sent for M. d’Aligre, who often came to Court, and made his request; but M. d’Aligre had other views, and declined the alliance. Napoleon urged it in every possible way, but M. d’Aligre remained immoveable. From his manner of relating the affair to me, it was evident that he thought he had shewn great courage, and, in fact, he deserved the credit of having done so, for he imagined, like all of us, that it was very dangerous to thwart the Emperor’s inclinations. We were, however, all mistaken; we did not know Napoleon. I am now convinced that the justice due to individuals, and to family rights in particular, are sacred to him; and I never heard that M. d’Aligre suffered any inconvenience whatever through his refusal.

After dinner, the Emperor tried some of Pigault Le Brun’s romances and others of the same kind, but in vain: after turning over a few pages of each, he rejected them all, saying that they were all in very bad taste.

THE GOVERNOR’S STATEMENTS RESPECTING THE EXPENSES AT LONGWOOD, &C.

Friday, 28th.—Towards one o’clock, the Emperor sent for me and my son. We carried him the first chapter of the Campaigns of Italy, with our last work completing it. He detained us until almost six o’clock.

The Governor had paid a visit to the Grand Marshal, and in a vague manner given him reason to expect some reductions at Longwood. He had stated, with some simplicity, that it had been expected at London that the permission which had been offered us to return to Europe would have greatly diminished the Emperor’s domestic circle. He had also said, without being well understood by the Grand Marshal, that, if we had any private property, we might avail ourselves of our own money, by drawing upon our own funds, as I had already done. His government, he said, had never intended to allow the Emperor more than a table for four persons daily at most, and company to dine once a-week. What a statement! Is it possible that he meant to insinuate that, with respect to us, we ought to pay for our maintenance, and contribute, for the future, to the expenses of the establishment? Let it not be thought incredible: we daily learn here to believe that there is nothing impossible.

The Emperor, afterwards, reverting to a book which he had been reading, and in which there was a story of an Irish lady, respecting whom Goldsmith had abused him violently, recollected well, he said, that, being at Bayonne at the chateau de Marrach, when the city of Bourdeaux gave him a _fête_, he saw, by the side of the Empress Josephine, a charming face of the most perfect beauty, with which he was forcibly struck. The impression she had made did not pass unperceived. It had been anticipated and brought about designedly. “God knows,” said the Emperor, “with what intention. She was a Miss ——, afterwards Madame ——, a new reader to the Empress Josephine, whom she attended to the chateau de Marrach, and might very possibly have had great success. She already occupied my thoughts, when M. de Lavalette, who was at the head of the secret department of the post-office, destroyed the charm. He sent, direct to me, a letter addressed to this young lady. It was from her mother, or her aunt, an Irishwoman, and contained minute directions for the part she was to play, and particularly urged her by all means to contrive to secure such a living pledge as might prolong her empire, or at least secure her great influence. On reading this,” said the Emperor, “all illusion vanished. The coarseness of the intrigue, the turpitude of the details, the style, the hand which had written the letter; but, above all, her being a foreigner, produced immediate disgust; and the pretty little Irish girl was, in fact, as Goldsmith says, put into a post-chaise and suddenly packed off to Paris. And here I find,” continued Napoleon, “a libel imputing this to me as a crime, when, in fact, it was much rather a virtue in me; an act of continence, of which I might, perhaps, boast with much more reason than the famous Scipio. But this is the way in which history is written.”

After dinner, when we were debating what we should read, the Emperor said that, since we confessed we had not wit enough to relate each his tale or story, we ought at least to be condemned to choose, by turns, our evening’s reading; and he began by naming for his part, the poem _De la Pitié_, by the Abbé Delille. He thought the verses good, the language pure, the ideas pleasing; nevertheless, he observed, it was destitute of imagination or warmth. It was, undoubtedly, superior in versification to Voltaire; but still far beneath our other great masters.

Saturday, 29th.—The Emperor breakfasted in the garden, and invited us all. After breakfast he took an airing in the calash. He was in good spirits, and rallied us all in our turns. One he complimented on the beauty and elegance of his apartments, another on the sums which the Governor had paid for him, and which would soon be increased by a handsome stock of child-bed linen; me he congratulated on the taste which the Governor seemed to have for my bills of exchange, which had induced his Excellency to wish the rest to draw bills likewise. He laughed, and was highly amused with our remarks on each other. The weather suddenly changed and obliged him to return home.

After dinner, the Emperor read some passages of Milton, translated by the Abbé Delille. He thought the versification very inferior to the poem _De la Pitié_; and, in fact, it was a work prescribed to the author, written during his emigration, whilst at London, and published by subscription.

During the whole of our morning’s ride, the conversation turned on our kings and their mistresses: Mesdames de Montespan, de Pompadour, Dubarry, &c. The principle was warmly discussed, opinions differed, and were obstinately defended. The Emperor amused himself with fluctuating alternately from one opinion to another. He concluded, however, by deciding in favour of morality.

POLITICAL HISTORY OF THE COURT OF LONDON DURING OUR EMIGRATION.—GEORGE III.—MR. PITT.—THE PRINCE OF WALES.—ANECDOTES.—THE NASSAUS.—REMARKABLE DIGRESSION OF NAPOLEON TO HIS OWN HISTORY.

Sunday, 30th.—The Emperor desired me to be called early in the morning to breakfast with him; he was sad, gloomy, and unable to converse; he could not find words. Chance having produced the mention of London and of my emigration, the Emperor said, by way of fixing on a subject, and finding something to occupy his attention, “You must have seen in London, the Court, the King, the Prince of Wales, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, and other great personages who figured at that time? Tell me what you know of them. What did people think of them? Give me an historical sketch.”—"Sire, your Majesty forgets, or perhaps was never precisely informed of the situation of an emigrant in London. I doubt whether we should have been received at Court; the good old George III. was deeply concerned for our personal misfortunes, but he was extremely reluctant to avow us in a political sense. And if we could have been received there, our means would not have enabled us to appear. I did not therefore go to Court. I have, however, seen most of those whom your Majesty mentions, and I have also heard much said of them.

"I have seen and heard the King several times in the House of Lords, and been very near him; the Prince of Wales in the same place, and also in company in the metropolis. Besides, it is not in London as in France; we do not find there that immense distance between the Court and the mass of the nation; the country is so crowded, information so general, education so equal, affluence so common, and the sphere of activity so rapid, that the whole nation seems to be in the same place and on the same plane; whilst, in looking at this assemblage, which might deserve to be called distinguished, one is tempted to ask, _Where is the people?_ which is, in fact, the question that Alexander is said to have asked at the time of his visit to London. It follows then, that having seen many people of all classes, conditions, and opinions, I must have imbibed some notions approaching in all probability very near the truth. Unluckily, I was then little solicitous about observing and collecting information; and I am likewise fearful that the lapse of so much time may now confuse my memory.

"George the Third was the honestest man in his dominions; his personal virtues made him an object of profound veneration; an extreme morality, and great respect for the laws, were the principal characteristics of his whole life. He came to the throne at twenty years of age, deeply enamoured of a charming young Scotch lady, of one of the first families in the country, it was much feared that he would marry her; but it was sufficient to remind him that it was contrary to law, and he instantly consented to marry the person who should be chosen for him. This was a princess of Mecklenburg. In his grief, he thought her very ordinary, and in fact she was so; nevertheless George III. remained all his life an exemplary husband; he was never known to be guilty of the least infidelity.

"The accession of George III. was an actual political revolution in England: the days of the Pretenders were over; the house of Hanover was established; the Whigs, who had placed that family on the throne, were dismissed from administration: they were troublesome observers, who were no longer wanted. The government was again seized by the Tories, those friends of power, who have ever since kept it, to the great detriment of public liberty.

"The King, however, was personally free from prejudice in this respect: he sincerely loved the laws, justice, and the welfare and prosperity of his country. The violent part taken by England against our French revolution was much less the fault of George III. than of Mr. Pitt, who was the real firebrand. The latter was instigated by the extreme hatred to France which he inherited from his father, the great Chatham, and also by a strong predilection for power and the oligarchy. At the commencement of our revolution, Mr. Pitt was the man of the people: he governed England; he drew in the King, who was always to be worked on by facts; and it must be acknowledged that the excesses and crimes of our outset afforded very favourable opportunities to the measures and the eloquence of Mr. Pitt. It is probable, Sire, that if the unfortunate George III. had retained his reason, your Majesty would eventually have found it greatly to your advantage, because your reign would have presented new facts to his observation, to which he would have yielded. George III. had his own species and degree of character: it was in harmony with his intellectual conceptions: he wished to know things, to be convinced. When once his resolution was taken, it was difficult to make him alter it; yet it was not impossible: his good sense afforded great opportunities.

"His illness was, on this account, a curse to us, a curse to Europe, and to the English themselves, who begin now to give up the high opinion they once professed of Mr. Pitt, of whose fatal errors they now feel the effects.

"It was the first attack of the King’s illness which established the reputation and credit of Mr. Pitt. That minister was little more than twenty-five years of age, when he ventured alone to encounter the mass of those who deserted the King and considered him lost; and who were eager to proclaim the monarch’s incapacity, in order to possess themselves of power under his youthful successor. This conduct rendered Mr. Pitt the idol of the nation. This was the most glorious period of his life; and his noblest triumph was, undoubtedly, that of conducting George III. to St. Paul’s, to return thanks to God for his restoration to health, amidst an immense concourse of people intoxicated with joy and satisfaction.

"There was no doubt that Mr. Pitt was on this occasion the saviour of the King as well as of the public peace; for experience proved that George III. had not become incapable of reigning again; and it was strongly suspected that, had the regency been organized, as the Opposition wished to have it, this capability would not have been very readily acknowledged at a subsequent period; and thus a civil war might have been occasioned.

"I have often heard it said that the mental derangement of George III. was not a common kind of madness: that his alienation did not exactly arise from a local affection of the brain, but from the repletion of the vessels leading to it; a derangement produced by a malady which had long been peculiar to this family. His disorder, it was said, was rather delirium than insanity. When the cause was removed, the sovereign instantly recovered all his faculties, in as great perfection as if they had sustained no interruption; this circumstance explains his numerous relapses and restorations. As a proof of this, people used to mention the strength of mind he must have possessed, to be able, immediately on his first convalescence, to support the pomp of the procession, attended by the assembled population of London, filling the air with acclamations.

"After his second relapse, he gave another not less remarkable proof of this nature, by the calmness and composure which he displayed, when fired at by an assassin, as he entered his box at the theatre. He was so little disturbed that he instantly turned to the Queen, who had just reached the door of the box, to tell her not to be alarmed, for that it was only a squib which had been let off in the theatre: he remained during the whole performance apparently unmoved. Here was certainly no proof of weakness. The permanence of the complaint in his latter years might indeed be opposed to these facts, if it be certain that he had not long lucid intervals.

"George III., although so worthy and well-meaning a monarch, was several times very near falling a victim to assassins. Several instances of this kind occur in his history; and I do not believe any of the persons implicated suffered death, because they all appeared to be insane—all religious or political fanatics. The last and most famous attempt occurred, I think, in 1800.[26] The King went to the theatre, as he did from time to time at that critical period, to keep up his popularity. As he entered his box, a man in the pit took aim at him with a horse pistol, and the ball only missed through the King’s bowing at the moment to salute the public. The dreadful tumult that ensued may easily be conceived! The man did not attempt to deny his crime; he was precisely such another as the fanatic at Schoenbrun, who would have sacrificed your Majesty, and always maintained that he had no other object in view than peace and the happiness of his country. A jury pronounced this man insane, and he was condemned to confinement.

Footnote 26:

The author seems not to be aware that this is the very attempt to which he had just adverted.—_Translator._

"During my excursion to London in 1814, a singular chance procured me a sight of this very assassin. My mind being still occupied with the mission which your Majesty had confided to me the preceding year, concerning the depôts of mendicity and houses of correction, I wished to see the English establishments of this kind. Whilst I was taking a minute survey of Newgate, I entered an apartment in which I found a great number of condemned persons enjoying a certain degree of liberty. The first on whom my conductor fixed his eyes happened to be Hatfield, whom he pointed out to me, and whose name I immediately recollected, and asked if he was the man who had attempted to assassinate George III. It was the same, he said, and he was undergoing the confinement to which he had been condemned, as insane, in Newgate. I observed that, at the time, his insanity had been much doubted and contested by the public, as it always happens in such cases. I was assured, however, that Hatfield was indisputably mad, but only by fits; that his madness was, however, so mild that he was suffered to go about the town, on his word; and that he was the first to request he might be attended to, when he felt that his disorder was coming on. My conductor then called him. Having ventured to ask him some questions, he immediately discovered me to be French by my accent, and told me he had often fought against my countrymen in Flanders. (He had served in the light-horse, or dragoons, under the Duke of York.) He bore their marks, he said, shewing me several scars; and yet, he added, he was far from hating them, for they were brave, and were not to blame in that affair; people had insisted on meddling in their disputes, which concerned themselves only. He began to grow very warm, which induced my conductor to make me a sign, and to send him away. We had touched the chord of his derangement, my conductor observed, and had we continued, he would have become outrageous.

"But I return to George III. The predominant sentiment of that prince was the love of the public good and the welfare of his country. To these he always sacrificed every consideration: this alone induced him to retain Mr. Pitt so long, towards whom he felt a strong repugnance, because he was very ill-treated by that minister.

"The crisis was of the most vital importance to England; the danger most imminent; the talents of the Prime Minister of a superior kind. He was, therefore, necessary. Presuming on the omnipotence of this circumstance over the King’s mind, Mr. Pitt ruled him tyrannically, and without the least delicacy; he scarcely allowed him the disposal of the most trifling place. If there was a vacancy, and the King wished to reward a private servant of his own, he was always too late; Mr. Pitt had already disposed of it, and for the good of the state, he would say—for the sake of parliamentary services. If the King shewed too much dissatisfaction, Mr. Pitt had one invariable answer constantly ready—he would resign and give up his place to another. At length a circumstance occurred of the most delicate kind, as it concerned the King’s conscience, who was very religious; that is to say, the question of the emancipation of the Catholics of Ireland, to which he obstinately refused to consent. Mr. Pitt insisted with equal perseverance; he was pledged to this measure, he said, and resorted to his usual threat. But the King this time took him at his word, and, overjoyed at his deliverance, repeated the same day, to several persons, that he had now got rid of a man who had for twenty years been kicking at him. And it may not, perhaps, be useless to observe here, as a remarkable singularity, in contrast to Mr. Pitt’s ill usage of the King, that George III. has been heard to say that, of all his ministers, Mr. Fox (so much accused of republicanism, and perhaps not without foundation) was the person who, when at the head of affairs, had constantly shewn him the greatest delicacy, deference, respect, and attention.

"Nevertheless, such was the influence of the public interest over the King’s mind that, notwithstanding all his aversion, he reinstated Mr. Pitt a year afterwards. It was thought, at the time, that when Mr. Pitt retired he had had the address to fix Mr. Addington, a creature of his own, in the ministry, in order to be able to replace himself there in a short time without difficulty: but it has since been proved that Mr. Pitt himself was obliged to have recourse to intrigues to overthrow his successor and obtain his second administration, which, however, was by no means worthy of him: it was filled with disasters which he himself had occasioned. The ball that decided the victory of Austerlitz killed him in London.

"Time daily undermines the great reputation of Mr. Pitt, not with respect to his eminent talents, but their fatal employment. England groans under the calamities with which he overwhelmed her, the most fatal of which are the school and the doctrines he bequeathed to her. He introduced the police into England, accustomed the nation to an armed force, and commenced that system of informations, snares, and demoralization of every kind so completely perfected by his successors.

“His great system of tactics was constantly to excite our excesses on the Continent, and then to hold them up as a scarecrow to England, which immediately granted him all he wanted.” “But what did you all say to that?” asked the Emperor: “What was the opinion of the emigrants?”—"Sire," I replied, “we all constantly saw through the same glass; what we said the first day of our emigration we still repeated on the last day of our exile. We had not advanced one step; we had become and remained a people by ourselves. Mr. Pitt was our oracle; whatever was said by him, by Burke, Windham, or any of the most violent on that side of the question, appeared to us to be delicious; all that their adversaries objected, abominable. Fox, Sheridan, and Grey, were in our eyes nothing but infamous Jacobins; we never called them by any other name.” “Very well,” said the Emperor; “now return to George III.”

"This virtuous prince was excessively partial to private life and rural occupations; he devoted all the time he could spare from the business of the state to the cultivation of a farm a few miles from London; he never returned to the capital except for his regular levées, or extraordinary councils required by circumstances; and he immediately returned to his fields, where he lived without pomp, and like an honest farmer, as he said himself. All intrigues were left in town, about the ministers, and amongst them.

"George III. had many domestic troubles. His sister was Matilda Queen of Denmark, whose story forms so melancholy a romance; his two brothers caused him many vexations by their marriages; and he had not reason to be perfectly satisfied with his eldest son.

“The two brothers of George III. were the Duke of Cumberland and the Duke of Gloucester. I often saw the latter in private society; he was the worthiest, most polite, and honourable gentleman in England. Both these illustrious individuals, according to the spirit of the British constitution, were entirely strangers to public business. The King heard that one of them had married or was about to marry a private individual. This was a great crime in his estimation; he had himself made a great sacrifice to avoid committing it. He was extremely angry; and whilst he was sending a message to Parliament against the brother who had thus given offence, he was informed that the other had eloped to Calais for a similar purpose. It was like a fatality, an absolute epidemic, for it was at the same time reported on all sides, that the heir-apparent himself was also secretly married.”—"What," said the Emperor, “the Prince of Wales!”—"Yes, Sire, himself: his marriage was every where talked of, but with circumstances not sufficiently certain for me to venture to repeat them; the fact, however, seemed generally acknowledged. But, as the Prince afterwards caused it to be contradicted in Parliament, through the medium of the opposition, we are bound after that to believe him.

"I have it, however, from the mouth of a very near relation of his pretended wife, that the matter was positively so. I heard this person give way to the most violent rage on the solemn marriage of the prince, and threaten to resort to personal violence. It might, therefore, be considered a contested point, which was unavoidably represented according to party-spirit; some obstinately maintaining the reality of the marriage, whilst others denied it in the most violent manner. Perhaps this contradiction might be reconciled by the consideration that the person he was said to have married, Mrs. Fitzherbert, was a Catholic. This circumstance rendered the marriage impossible in the eyes of the law, and perfectly void with respect to the heir to the throne. However this may be, I have often met Mrs. Fitzherbert in company: her carriage bore the Prince’s arms, and her servants wore his livery. This lady was much older than himself; but beautiful, agreeable, of a powerful mind, and haughty, impatient temper, which often involved her in disputes with the Prince, and gave rise, it was said, to scenes of violence not very becoming such elevated rank. It was during one of the last quarrels of this kind, when, they say, Mrs. Fitzherbert had obstinately kept the door shut against the Prince, that Mr. Pitt dexterously took the opportunity of persuading him to consent to a marriage with the Princess of Brunswick."—"But stay," said the Emperor, “you go too fast; you pass over what chiefly interests me. Under what auspices did the Prince of Wales enter into life? What was there peculiar in his political conduct, his situation with regard to the Opposition, and so forth?”—"This Prince, Sire, came before the public with all the advantages of face, person, and mind. He was greeted with universal enthusiasm; but he soon evinced those inclinations, and began to act that part, which seemed necessarily imposed on great personages in the middle of the last century. Such were the infatuation of gaming, and its consequent embarrassments; table and other excesses; and, above all, a set of companions disapproved of by the public. Then it was that all generous hearts were grieved; hope was blighted, and the middling class, which in every country really constitutes the nation, and which, it must be confessed, is in England the most moral population of all Europe, despaired of the future. It was a received adage in England, amongst the lower classes in particular, that the Prince of Wales would never reign; the fortune-tellers and conjurors, it was said, had foretold it to himself.

“The opposition, into whose arms he had thrown himself, as heirs presumptive too frequently do; the opposition, whose stay and hope he was, perhaps trying to deceive themselves, when this misconduct was mentioned to them, used to get over it by saying that he would be another Henry V.; that Henry V. had been extremely dissipated when Prince of Wales; but that he became the greatest King the monarchy had produced; and thence they concluded that the Prince of Wales would make one of their greatest kings.”—"But did he adopt the revolutionary party and defend our modern ideas?" said the Emperor. "No, Sire; as the fever of revolutionary principles increased, decency compelled him to withdraw by degrees from the opposition which defended them. He relinquished all ostensible alliance, and filled up the void of his life by giving himself up to pleasure and its attendant difficulties. He was constantly overwhelmed with debts, although parliament had already paid them several times. By these encumbrances he was greatly embarrassed, and his character and popularity were endangered. It was whilst thus involved, and during a quarrel with Mrs. Fitzherbert, that Mr. Pitt got hold of him, offering to pay his debts again, if he would adopt his father’s views and consent to marry. He was obliged to submit to all that was prescribed, and the hand of the Princess of Brunswick was asked and obtained. But, during the short interval of the negotiation, a celebrated woman who had long aspired to govern the prince, finding the place vacant, took possession of it herself. It is pretended that she has said she had sought this connection for twenty years; for she was much older than himself, a circumstance which seemed to indicate a peculiar taste in this family, having also been remarked in several of his brothers. This person was immediately appointed Lady of the Bed-chamber to the future Princess of Wales; she even went to meet her and bring her to England. It was under such auspices, such malignant influence, that the bride landed on the British shore. Accordingly, it is positively asserted that this unhappy princess had not even so much as twenty-four hours’ enjoyment, out of that privileged period emphatically called by the English the honey-moon. From the very day after her marriage, ridicule, neglect, and contempt were her portion.

"All who possessed the least spark of generosity or morality in England took her part, and loudly exclaimed against the manner in which she was treated. The greater share of the odium, however, fell on Lady Jersey, who was accused of having bewitched the prince. She became the object of public execration; yet the Prince, it was declared could not plead the excuse of illusion or blindness; for it is said that, after a very gay entertainment amongst his jovial companions, one of them was led, in the course of conversation, to say that he knew the Madame de Merteuil of the Liaisons Dangereuses. Many of the others immediately cried out that they also knew one: upon this, it is said, the Prince proposed, for a frolic, that each should write his secret separately. All the notes were thrown into a vase; and the name of Lady Jersey was found written on every one of them: the Prince himself, not having looked for such unanimity, or expected to be discovered, had written this name as well as the rest.

"I knew this Lady Jersey, and it must be confessed that her face and whole appearance were so little indicative of her age, that it could not easily have been suspected. She had all the charms of early youth, heightened by all the grace of the most elegant manners; and I am bound to say, that, in the circles in which I saw her, she even possessed a sort of attractive kindness; whether the manners of her class render the disposition indulgent, or whether she did not in fact deserve all the reproaches with which she was loaded.

“The Prince of Wales seems to have possessed a peculiar faculty, a gift, which the English call the power of fascination. He is endowed with it in the highest degree; one would think that his will was sufficient to reclaim the attachment of the multitude, and as it were to corrupt public opinion. His history is full of those losses and returns of popularity; and, perhaps, it is the certainty of being able to command this sort of success that has so often led him, as his detractors say, to disregard public opinion. His enemies have asserted that he has carried this species of courage to absolute heroism. They have censured him for his hardihood in persisting, whilst lying himself under the reproach of an irregular life, in accusing his wife of that conduct of which he set the example; an inconsistency which ought, undoubtedly, to be attributed to the fatal suggestions of pernicious counsellors, inimical to his glory and tranquillity. It is at least certain, that the basest corruption, the aid of the laws, and the influence of the heir to the throne, were all employed against the Princess, and all in vain: a circumstance which, it is said, used to torment the Prince and expose him to ridicule. People laughed at his unprecedented ill-luck, in being unable to prove, with all his endeavours, what so many husbands would give so much to conceal. Hatred increased on every new defeat, and with it the sufferings of the victim. She was reduced, at last, to a sort of banishment, to a place a few miles from London; she was deprived of her daughter; she was insulted in the sight of the allied Sovereigns when they visited London. But the expression of the feelings of the multitude was always ready to avenge her, and it became necessary to get her to quit England; which she was induced to do voluntarily, by the aid, perhaps, of the perfidious insinuations of some pretended friend.”

Here the Emperor again interrupted me, saying that I was leaving out a very essential point. “When and how had the Prince attained the Royal authority? How had he arranged matters with the opposition? What had he done with those old friends?” “Sire,” I replied, "my information ends here. There was a time when political events induced your Majesty to cut off all intercourse between England and France. We no longer obtained the papers; we were prevented from receiving letters; the two nations had no longer any thing in common. There is, therefore, an actual blank in my intelligence, which I should be unwilling to fill up with mere conjectures. I understand, however, that after several recoveries and relapses of the old King, all parties at length agreed to consign the regency to the Prince of Wales, and place him in full possession of the sovereign authority. The long expected period of changes and of hopes was at length arrived. The gates of heaven were now to open, at length, to that opposition which had so long eulogised the Prince; to those old friends who had seemed from infancy to unite their fate with his. But, to the great and universal surprise of the nation, and through I know not what contrivance of Lord Castlereagh’s, nothing was altered. Those old ministers, who had so long been the objects of the Prince’s dislike and censure, kept their places, and those intimate and dearly beloved friends, who had so long been caressed, remained out of office.

"The opposition complained loudly; but they were laughed at, and told that when the wild Prince of Wales became a great King, his first care was to get rid of his old companions. The jest might be a very good one, but it was by no means applicable; for the greatest characters in the empire were at the head of this opposition; and they were far from being Falstaffs or profligates of that kind. From that instant they evinced a marked coolness towards the Prince: some would no longer see him; others refused his invitations, or repelled the advances which he made to them. It is said, however, that one of them suffered himself to be persuaded to go to dine in private with the Prince. The latter, recurring to his usual victorious weapons, endeavoured to prove to him, with his accustomed grace, that he could not have acted differently; and at length desired to be told of what his old friends could justly accuse him. The guest, whose heart was still swelling with indignation, seized the opportunity, and freely told him all his faults, with such warmth, that the Princess Charlotte, who was at table, and was perhaps secretly inclined towards the guest’s opinion, burst into tears. Lord Byron heard of this scene the next day, and consecrated the event in these celebrated verses:—

"Weep, daughter of a royal line, A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s decay; Ah happy! if each tear of thine Could wash a father’s fault away! Weep, for thy tears are virtue’s tears, Auspicious to these suff’ring isles; And be each drop, in future years, Repaid thee by thy people’s smiles." March, 1812.

“In 1814, at the time of my visit to London, I had the honour of being presented to the Prince of Wales at Carlton House.”—“And what the devil did you want there?” said the Emperor. “I do not wonder that your Majesty is surprised; but I was induced by a sort of point of honour: I thought I could do no other. There were many French in London at that time; I was the only one who had been near your Majesty’s person, worn your colours, and followed the line of conduct which seemed to be censured at that period. Some one having told me that the others would certainly not endure my presence, that circumstance determined me to go. We were, in fact, twenty-two Frenchmen, presented at the same time, at one of the Prince’s grand levees; and I must say that I never saw more graceful manners, more pleasing expression, more harmony in the _tout-ensemble_; I thought him the _beau-ideal_ of elegance. I comprehended the full power, the whole truth of that magic fascination which I had so often heard attributed to him; and even at this moment, Sire, when I recollect that fine countenance, on which I thought I perceived elevation of mind, and the love and desire of glory, I cannot help asking myself how your Majesty comes to be here, how those atrocious ministers could induce him to declare himself the gaoler, the...?” “My dear Sir,” said the Emperor, “perhaps you were no physiognomist; you took the halo of coquetry for that of greatness; the study to please for the love of glory; and, besides, the love of glory is not exactly in the face; it is in the recesses of the heart, and you did not search there.[27]

Footnote 27:

Since this was said, the great victim has fallen. I, his servant, saw his torments begin; others have communicated to me his last sufferings and protracted agonies. He expired! His enemies never ceased to strike him, in the name of the Prince! This immortal victim accordingly left with his own hand, these dreadful words: “_I bequeath the infamy of my death to the reigning family of England!_”

“But were you not translating to me, the other day,” said the Emperor, "some journal or work, in which it was stated that the Prince Regent had made a great display of sympathy towards the last Stuarts; that he had paid the most extravagant prices for things which had belonged to, and been left by them; that he had talked of raising a monument to the last of them? There is much more calculation than magnanimity in all that; it is because he is anxious to establish and consecrate their extinction. From that event his legitimacy and security date; and he is in the right. If, in my time, and under the circumstances into which the English Ministers had plunged the nation, there had been some young Stuart, of a brave and enterprising character, equal to the present age, he would have been landed in Ireland, escorted by the modern doctrines; and then we should undoubtedly have seen the regenerate Stuarts driving out the degenerate Brunswicks. England would have had its 20th of March. Such are thrones and their contagious influence; scarcely is one seated there when the poison begins to operate. These Brunswicks, brought in by liberal ideas, raised by the will of the people, have no sooner ascended the throne, than they grasp at arbitrary and despotic power; they must absolutely drive their wheels in the track which overturned their predecessors; and this because they are become Kings! And it should seem that this is the inevitable course! That fine stem of the Nassaus, for instance, those patrons of noble independence in Europe, whose liberalism ought to be in the blood, and even in the marrow of their bones; those Nassaus, who, as far as regards their dominions, would be only at the tail, and who might by their doctrines, place themselves at the head,—they have just been placed on a throne; well, you will infallibly see them concern themselves about nothing but becoming what they call legitimates; and adopt the principles, the proceedings, and the errors of that class.

“Nay, after all, my dear Sir, has not the same thing been said of me, myself? and perhaps not without some appearance of reason; for probably many circumstances may have escaped my observation. Nevertheless I declared, on a solemn occasion, that in my estimation the sovereign power was not in the title, nor the throne in its splendour. It has been said of me, that scarcely had I attained power, when I exercised a despotic and arbitrary sway; but it was rather a Dictatorship; and the circumstances of the times will be a sufficient excuse for me. I have also been reproached with having suffered myself to be intoxicated with pride at my alliance with the house of Austria, and having thought myself more truly a sovereign after my marriage; in fact, of having considered myself from that time as Alexander, become the son of a god! But can all this be just? Did I really fall into such errors? A young, handsome, agreeable, woman fell to my lot; was it inadmissible for me to testify some satisfaction? Could I not devote a few moments to her without incurring blame? Was I not to be allowed to abandon myself to a few hours of happiness? Was I required to use my wife ill from the very first night, like your Prince ——? Or was I, like the Sultan we have read of, to have her head struck off, in order to escape the reproaches of the multitude? No! my only fault in that alliance was that of carrying too plebeian a heart with me. How often have I said that the heart of a statesman ought only to be in his head. Mine, unfortunately, in this instance, remained in its place, subject to family feelings, and this marriage ruined me; because I believed, above all things, in the religion, the piety, the morality, and the honour of Francis I. He has cruelly deceived me. I am willing to believe that he was himself deceived; and I forgive him with all my heart. But will history spare him? If, however,...”

Here Napoleon was silent for a few moments, resting his head on one of his hands; then resuming, “But what a romance is my life!” said he, rising. “Open the door, and let us walk.” And we walked up and down the adjoining rooms, for some time.

MY SON’S FALL FROM HIS HORSE.—PILLAGE IN WAR.—CHARACTER OF THE FRENCH SOLDIER.—PARTICULARS RELATING TO WATERLOO, BY THE NEW ADMIRAL.

Monday July 1st to Thursday 4th.—Yesterday, my son’s horse ran away with him, whilst he was taking a ride; and, being fearful that the horse might dash him against the trees, he thought it best to throw himself off his back. He had sprained his ancle sufficiently to condemn him to the sofa for a month.

The Emperor condescended to come into my room, about 11 o’clock, to learn the state of my son, whom he rated well for his awkwardness. I followed him into the garden, where he breakfasted, which he had not done there for some time previously.

The conversation turned on pillage by armies, and the horrors occasioned by it.

Pavia, the Emperor said, was the only place that he had ever given up to pillage; he had promised it to his soldiers for 24 hours; “but after three hours,” said he, “I could bear it no longer, and I put an end to it. I had but 1200 men;” said he, “the cries of the populace which reached my ears prevailed. If there had been 20,000 soldiers, their numbers would have drowned the complaints of the people, and I should have heard nothing of it. Happily, however, policy and morality are equally opposed to the system of pillage. I have meditated much on this subject: and have often been urged to gratify my soldiers in this manner. But nothing is so certain to disorganize and completely ruin an army. A soldier loses all discipline as soon as he gets an opportunity to pillage; and, if by pillage he enriches himself, he immediately becomes a bad soldier, and will not fight. Besides,” continued he, “pillage is incompatible with our French manners; the hearts of our soldiers are not bad; when the first transport of fury is over, they come to themselves again. It would be impossible for French soldiers to pillage for twenty-four hours; many of them would employ the latter part of the time in repairing the mischief they had done in the beginning. They afterwards reproach each other, in their quarters, with the excesses they have committed, and load with reprobation and contempt those whose conduct has been particularly odious.”

About three o’clock, the new Admiral, Sir Pulteney Malcolm, and all his officers, were presented to the Emperor. The Admiral first conversed with the Emperor alone, for nearly two hours. He must have been much impressed with this conversation, for he said, as he came out, that he had been taking a very fine and valuable lesson on the history of France.

The Emperor was understood to have said to him, towards the close of the interview, what I believe I have already introduced elsewhere on this subject. “You have levied a contribution of 700 millions on France; I have imposed one of more than 10,000 millions on your country. You raised yours by your bayonets: I caused mine to be raised by your parliament.” “And that is the true summary of the matter,” replied the Admiral.

The Admiral was bringing from America some old troops consisting of 12,000 men, without the least suspicion of the new state of Europe. At sea, a vessel informed him of the return of the Emperor from the isle of Elba, and the consequent revolution; it seemed to him so magical that he could scarcely believe it. But when he arrived in sight of Plymouth, he received orders to proceed, with all possible expedition, to Ostend; he reached it in time, and 4000 of the men on board his ships were enabled to take part in the battle, and they were unquestionably amongst the best troops in the whole line, as the Admiral declared. Who can determine what degree of influence they may have had? The English thought the battle lost, during the whole day, and they acknowledge that it would have been so, but for Grouchy’s error.

ANECDOTES ON THE 18TH BRUMAIRE.—SIEYES.—GRAND

ELECTOR.—CAMBACERES.—LEBRUN, &C.

After walking some time in the garden, the Emperor got into his calash. The weather was delightful: we made two turns at full gallop. I was alone with him. He spoke much of my son, and his future prospects, with a degree of interest and kindness which went to my heart. He said that, considering his age, the circumstance of being sent to St. Helena was of inestimable value to his future life; that it must be like a hot-house for bringing forward his character.

After dinner, the Emperor resumed the subject of the 18th Brumaire, and related it to us with an infinite number of minor details. As he has long since dictated it to General Gourgaud, I shall refer to his publication for the mass of the particulars of that event. I shall only give here some little anecdotes or accessories which possibly may not be found there.

Napoleon’s situation on his return from Egypt was unprecedented. He had found himself immediately applied to by all parties, and had been entrusted with all their secrets. There were three which were particularly distinct; the _Manege_, of which General J. was one of the leaders; the _Moderates_, directed by Sieyes; and the _Rotten_ party, with Barras at their head.

The determination which Napoleon formed to ally himself with the Moderates, exposed him, he said, to great danger. With the Jacobins he would have risked nothing; they offered to name him Dictator. “But, after conquering with them,” observed the Emperor, “it would have been necessary, almost immediately, to conquer against them. A club cannot endure a permanent chief; it wants one for every successive passion. Now to make use of a party one day, in order to attack it the next, under whatever pretext it is done, is still a piece of treachery; it was inconsistent with my principles.”

“My dear Sir,” said the Emperor to me, at another moment, after having again run over the events of the 18th of Brumaire, "that is a far different thing, you will allow, from the conspiracy of St. Real, in which there is much more plotting, and much less result; ours was struck at a single blow. It is certain that there never was a great revolution which caused less inconvenience; it was so generally desired; it was accordingly crowned with universal applause.

"For my own part, all my share in the plot, for effecting this change, was confined to the assembling the whole crowd of my visitors at the same hour in the morning, and marching at their head to seize on power. It was from the threshold of my door, from the top of my own steps, and without my friends having any previous knowledge of my intentions, that I led them to this conquest; it was amidst the brilliant escort they formed, their lively joy, and unanimous ardour, that I presented myself at the bar of the ancients, to thank them for the Dictatorship with which they invested me.

“Metaphysicians have disputed, and will long dispute, whether we did not violate the laws, and whether we were not criminal; but these are mere abstractions, at best fit for books and tribunes, and which ought to disappear before imperative necessity: one might as well blame a sailor for waste and destruction, when he cuts away his masts to avoid being upset. The fact is that, had it not been for us the country must have been lost: and we saved it. The authors and chief agents of that memorable state transaction may and ought, instead of attempting denials or justifications, to answer their accusers proudly, like the Roman, _We protest that we have saved our country; come with us and return thanks to the gods_.”

On the completion of the Revolution of the 18th Brumaire, three provisional consuls were appointed; Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos. A president was to be chosen, the moment was critical, and rendered the General highly necessary; he accordingly seized the arm-chair, and his two acolytes did not venture to dispute it with him. Besides, Ducos declared himself that moment, once for all. The General alone could save them, he said: and thenceforth he was of his opinion in every thing. Sieyes was greatly mortified, but he was obliged to do the same.

Sieyes was a man of a very selfish disposition. On the first meeting of the three Consuls in Council, and as soon as they were alone, Sieyes went in a mysterious manner to the doors of the apartment, to see whether any person was within hearing; then, returning to Napoleon, he said to him with complacency, and in an under-tone, shewing him, at the same time, a sort of cabinet. “Do you see that pretty piece of furniture? You do not, perhaps, suspect how valuable it is?” Napoleon thought he was directing his attention to some appendage of the crown, which had, perhaps, been used by Louis XVI. “That is not the matter;" said Sieyes, seeing his mistake, “I am going to let you into the secret; it contains 800,000 francs!” and his eyes opened wide. “In our Directorial magistracy, we reflected that a Director going out of office might very possibly go back to his family without a denier; a very unbecoming thing: we therefore invented this little chest from which we drew a sum for every Director going out of office. There are now no more Directors; we are therefore the possessors of the remainder. What shall we do with it?” Napoleon, who had paid great attention, and began, at length, to understand, said: “If it comes to my knowledge, the sum shall go to the public treasury; but if I should not hear of it (and I know nothing of it yet), you and Ducos, being two old Directors, can divide it between you: only make haste, for to-morrow it may perhaps, be too late. The colleagues did not wait to be told twice,” observed the Emperor. "Sieyes hastily undertook the operation, and divided the spoil like the lion in the fable. He made several lots; he took one as the eldest Director; another, because he was to have continued in office longer than his colleague; a third, because he had suggested the idea of this happy change, &c. In short he adjudged 600,000 francs to himself, and only sent 200,000 to poor Ducos, who, when his first emotions had subsided, insisted on revising this calculation, and seemed bent on quarrelling with Sieyes. Both of them reverted to the subject every moment, wishing their third colleague to arbitrate between them; but the latter always replied—Settle it between yourselves. Above all, be quiet, for if the matter should come to my ears, you would have to give up the whole.

“When we were about to fix on a constitution,” said the Emperor, “Sieyes treated us with another very entertaining scene. Circumstances and public opinion had made him a sort of oracle in these matters; he accordingly unfolded his various propositions in the committees of the two councils, with great mystery, importance and method; they were all adopted, good, bad, and indifferent. Finally, he crowned the work by displaying the upshot which had been expected with lively and anxious impatience: he proposed a Grand Elector, who was to reside at Versailles, to enjoy six millions per annum, to represent the national dignity, and to have no other duty than the nomination of two Consuls, one for peace and the other for war; entirely independent in their functions. Moreover, if this Elector should make a bad choice, the Senate was to _absorb_ him himself. This was the technical expression, meaning, to remove him, by replacing him, as a punishment, in the crowd of private citizens.”

Napoleon, for want of experience in assemblies, and also through a degree of circumspection which the circumstances of the moment required, had taken little or no share in what had preceded; but now, at this decisive point, he began, he said, to laugh in Sieyes’s face, and to cut up all his metaphysical nonsense without mercy. Sieyes did not like to defend himself, said the Emperor, nor did he know how to do it. He made the attempt, however, saying that, after all, a king was nothing more. Napoleon replied, “But you take the abuse for the principle, the shadow for the body. And how can you imagine, M. Sieyes, that a man of any talent or the least honour, will make up his mind to act the part of a pig fattening on a few millions?” After this sally, which, said the Emperor, made those who were present laugh immoderately, Sieyes remained overwhelmed; it was no longer in his power to resume the subject of his Grand Elector; and a First Consul was determined on, who was to have the supreme decision and the nomination of all offices: with two accessory Consuls, who were to have deliberate voices only. It was in fact, from that moment, a unity of power. The First Consul was precisely the President of America, veiled under the forms which the irritable spirit of the times still rendered necessary. The Emperor accordingly said that his reign began in reality from that day.

The Emperor in some measure regretted that Sieyes had not been nominated one of the consuls. Sieyes, who at first refused the appointment, afterwards regretted it himself, but not until it was too late. “He had fallen into a mistake respecting the nature of these Consuls,” said Napoleon; “he was fearful of mortification, and of having the First Consul to contend with at every step; which would have been the case, if all the Consuls had been equal; we should then have all been enemies: but, the constitution having made them subordinate, there was no room for the struggles of obstinacy, no cause of enmity, but a thousand reasons for a genuine unanimity. Sieyes discovered this, but too late.” The Emperor said he might have been very useful in council—better, perhaps, than the others, because he had occasionally novel and most luminous ideas; but that, in other respects, he was wholly unfit to govern. “After all,” said the Emperor, “in order to govern it is necessary to be a military man; one can only rule in boots and spurs. Sieyes, without being fearful, was always in fear; his police spies disturbed his rest.”

At the Luxembourg, during the provisional consulate, he often awakened his colleague Napoleon, and harassed him about the new plots which he heard of every moment from his private police. “But have they corrupted our guard?” Napoleon used to say. “No.” “Then go to bed.—In war, as in love, my dear Sir, we must come to close quarters to conclude matters. It will be time enough to be alarmed when our 600 men are attacked.”

The Emperor said that, for the permanent government, he had chosen, in Cambacérès and Lebrun, two distinguished characters; both prudent, moderate, and able, but of completely opposite principles—the one the advocate of abuses, prejudices, old institutions, the revival of honours and distinctions, &c.—the other cold, austere, insensible, contending against all these ideas, yielding to them without illusion, and naturally falling into ideology.

In resuming, he observed that Sieyes might perhaps have contributed to give a different colour, another characteristic, to the imperial administration; but it was observed to him that this variation could not have been otherwise than injurious, for Napoleon’s choice had been much approved of at the time. The men he had selected, it was said, were not liable to be objected to by Europe. They had greatly contributed to conciliate public opinion in France, which ran wholly against Sieyes. His name and the recollections attending it would, in the eyes of many people, have disgraced the acts in which he might have taken part; and there was an anecdote eagerly repeated at the time, which shews all the ill-will that was borne towards him. It was said that, whilst he was talking with the Emperor, at the Tuileries, about Louis XIV. he had suffered the word _tyrant_ to escape him. "M. l’Abbé," the Emperor was said to have replied, “if Louis XVI. had been a tyrant, you would now be saying mass, and I should not be here.” The Emperor smiled at this anecdote, without confirming or denying it. It will hereafter appear that it was false.

FRESH AGGRAVATIONS FROM THE GOVERNOR.—HIS ABSURDITIES.

Saturday 6th to Monday 8th.—I have not mentioned the Governor for some time. We endeavour to keep him as much as possible out of our thoughts; we now scarcely ever adverted to him. His ill-manners, and the vexations we endure from him oblige me to notice him to-day: they seem to have increased. He has just withheld from us some letters from Europe, although they came open, and in the most ostensible manner—merely because they had not passed through the hands of the Secretary of State; without considering that a want of formality can easily be rectified in England, but that it is irremediable at a distance of two thousand leagues. If, however, in thus rigorously and literally fulfilling his instructions, he had only had the humanity to let us know that he has received these letters, and from whom they come, he might set our minds at ease with regard to those respecting whose health, or whose attention to ourselves, we suffer so much anxiety: but he has the barbarity to make a mystery of the affair. It is not many days since, the Countess Bertrand having written to town, he had the note seized, and sent it back to her as having been written without his permission. He accompanied this insult with an official letter, by which he prohibited us, for the future, from all written or even verbal communication with the inhabitants, without submitting it to his approbation; and what is particularly absurd and incredible is, that he imposed this restriction on our intercourse with people whom he nevertheless permits us to visit at our own pleasure. He accompanied the publication of the act relating to us with commentaries which spread terror amongst the inhabitants; he complains of the excessive expense of the Emperor’s table, and insists on great reductions.—It had not been understood that General Bonaparte would have so many people about him. Ministers, he told us ingenuously, had never doubted that the permission they had sent us to go away would have induced us to quit the Emperor. All this shuffling produced an exchange of pretty sharp notes. To one of the Governor’s communications, in which he said, that if the restrictions imposed on us seemed too hard, we might relieve ourselves from them by going away, the Emperor himself dictated the following addition to the answer we had already written:—"That, having been honoured by him during his prosperity, we considered it our chief pleasure to serve him, now that he could do nothing for us; and if there were persons to whom this conduct was incomprehensible, so much the worse for them."

NEW VEXATIONS.—THE EMPEROR SELDOM STIRS OUT.—TRISTAN.—LA FONTAINE’S FABLES.—THE BELLY RULES THE WORLD.—DIFFICULTY OF JUDGING OF MEN.

Tuesday 9th to Thursday 11th.—The Governor continues to annoy us, and is incessantly aggravating the misery of our situation. He seems resolved to place us in close confinement. He has published a proclamation in the town, ordering that all letters and notes addressed by us to the inhabitants, on any occasion whatever, shall be sent to him within twenty-four hours. He has also forbidden them to visit the Grand Marshal and his wife, who live at the entrance of our enclosure. In the beginning of this blockade of Madame Bertrand, it was so rigorously enforced that some medicines sent hence by the doctor for one of the Grand Marshal’s people, who was dying, could not be delivered; and it was only as an accommodation that the officer at last took upon him to let them pass over the wall.

The Governor, having read in a letter, sent by one of us to Europe, that the writer wanted several articles of clothing, linen, &c., came and told him that he might have most of those articles out of the stores sent by Government for Napoleon: and the individual replying that he preferred purchasing them, being unwilling to incur any obligation, the Governor drily answered that he might pay for them if he had a fancy to do so. To which the other replied, “Excuse me, Sir, I like to choose my shops myself.” In consequence of this, the Governor afterwards sent him word, by the Doctor, that he should complain of him, for having _contemptuously_ refused the gifts of Government. The other instantly replied that he should be much obliged to him; being much happier to give him an opportunity of transmitting refusals than requests, to the ministers he served.

All these petty tricks, the length and interest of our readings, and the continuance of the bad weather, which is dreadful, confine the Emperor more closely than ever to the house, and overwhelm him with melancholy: he now never stirs abroad. His amusement is now limited to going occasionally, about five o’clock, to visit Madame de Montholon, who has not yet gone abroad since her lying-in. We all meet there, and the Emperor converses for half an hour, or three-quarters, before he returns to his own apartment.

To-day he met little Tristan, the eldest son of M. de Montholon, who is only seven or eight years old, and runs about all day. The Emperor placed him between his knees, and tried to make him recite some fables, of which the poor child did not understand two words out of ten. The Emperor laughed heartily, blaming the practice of putting La Fontaine into the hands of children who cannot understand him; and began to explain these fables to Tristan; endeavouring to render their meaning more palpable to him; nor could any thing be more curious than the simplicity, justice, and logic of his illustrations.

Whilst he was explaining the fable of the Wolf and the Lamb, it was extremely laughable to hear the poor child say _Sire_, and _your Majesty_, and in speaking of the wolf, and to the Emperor, confuse all his expressions; whilst his ideas were probably in still greater confusion.

The Emperor thought this fable had far too much irony in it to be within the comprehension of children. It was likewise defective, he observed, in its principle and its moral; and this was the first time that he had been struck with these defects. It was false that the argument of the stronger was always the best; and if it sometimes happened so, in fact, that, he said, was the very evil, the abuse, which was to be condemned. The wolf, ought, therefore, to have been strangled in devouring the lamb.

Tristan is very idle. He confessed to the Emperor that he did not work every day. “Do you not eat every day?” said the Emperor to him, “Yes, Sire.” “Well, then, you ought to work every day; no one should eat who does not work.” “Oh! if that be the case, I will work every day,” said the child, quickly. “Such is the influence of the belly,” said the Emperor, patting that of little Tristan. "It is hunger that makes the world move. Come, my little man, if you are a good boy, we’ll make a page of you." "But I won’t be one," said Tristan, pouting and looking sulky.

Our afternoons were occupied in reading something selected in hopes of enabling us to kill time for an hour or two. At this period we were reading a voyage to Spitzbergen; the shipwreck of the Dutch at Nova Zembla; the _Causes celébres_, the trial of Calas; those of Martinguerre and the Marchioness of Brinvilliers. The author observed, in some part of the work, that the face often gave a false idea of the character. The Emperor paused, laid down the book, and said, with a look and tone that denoted conviction: “It is most true, and it is also true that no study will enable us to avoid this deception. How many proofs of this kind have I had! For instance, I had a person about me; his countenance undoubtedly.... But after all he had a mischievous eye; I ought to have guessed something from that.” He then went into some particulars of the character of the person in question. They had known each other from infancy, he said; he had long placed his entire confidence in this individual, who had talent and resources; the Emperor even thought that he had been attached and faithful—"But he was much too covetous," said he, “he was too fond of money. When I was dictating to him, and he sometimes had to write _millions_, it was never without a peculiar change of countenance, a smacking of his lips, and restlessness on his chair, which several times induced me to ask what ailed him.”

The Emperor said this vice was too glaring to allow of his retaining this person about him; but that, considering his other qualities, he ought, perhaps, to have contented himself with removing him into a different situation.

THE IRON MASK, &C.—INGENIOUS FICTION.

Friday, 12th.—The conversation to-day led us to speak of the Iron Mask, and we took a review of what has been said on the subject by Voltaire, Dutens, and others; and of what is found respecting him in Richelieu’s Memoirs. In these it is well known that he is said to have been the twin-brother of Louis XIV., and the elder of the two. On this occasion, some one added that, being employed in making out a pedigree, a person had come to him to demonstrate seriously to him that Napoleon was a lineal descendant from this Iron Mask, and consequently the legitimate heir of Louis XIII. and Henry IV., in preference to Louis XIV. and all his issue. The Emperor also said that he had heard something about it, and added that the credulity of mankind and their love of the marvellous are so great that it would not have been difficult to make out and substantiate something of the kind for the multitude, and that there would not have been wanting certain persons in the Senate to sanction it; probably, he observed, the very men who at a later period were so eager to revile him, as soon as they saw him in adversity.

We then went on to trace the foundation and the progress of this story. The name of the Governor of the Island of St. Marguerite, to whom the custody of the Iron Mask was entrusted, was M. de Bonpart, a circumstance, to begin with, very singular. This man, it was asserted, was aware of the origin of his prisoner. He had a daughter: she and the prisoner were both young; they saw each other and loved. The Governor, having informed the Court of this circumstance, it was decided that there was no great objection to allowing the unfortunate captive to seek in love an alleviation of his misery, and they were married.

The person who was speaking at this moment said that, at the time the above particulars were related to him, he had been very much entertained by them, and had happened to say that he thought the story very ingeniously imagined; upon which the narrator of it became excessively angry, maintaining that the marriage could very easily be verified by the registers of one of the parishes of Marseilles, which he named. He added that the children born of this marriage were silently and secretly conveyed to Corsica, where the difference of language, chance, or perhaps intention had, changed the name of Bonpart into Bonaparte and Buonaparte, which, after all, has the same meaning, and is in fact the same thing.

After this anecdote, it was added that, at the time of the revolution, a similar story had been made in favour of the Orleans branch. It was founded in a document found in the Bastille, and surmised that Anne of Austria, who was brought to bed after twenty-three years of sterility, had been delivered of a girl, and that Louis XIII. fearing she might have no more children, had been induced to put away that girl and falsely to substitute in her stead a boy, which was Louis XIV.; that the following year, however, the Queen had been again brought to bed, and this time really of a boy, which boy was Philip, the head of the house of Orleans, who thus turned out to be with his descendants the legitimate heirs to the throne, whilst Louis XIV. and his issue were only intruders and usurpers. According to that story the Iron Mask was a girl. A pamphlet on this subject was circulated in the provinces at the time the Bastille was taken, but the story did not gain credit, and very quietly disappeared, without having, it seems, engaged the attention of the capital even for a moment.

JUNOT, HIS WIFE, &C.

Saturday, 13th.—The conversation again fell upon Junot. Of the considerable fortunes which the Emperor had bestowed, that of Junot, he said, was one of the most extravagant. The sums he had given him almost exceeded belief, and yet he was always in debt; he had squandered treasures, without credit to himself, without discernment or taste, and, too frequently, the Emperor added, in gross debauchery.

He has been known more than once, after having taken a most copious and substantial breakfast, in his magnificent _hotel_ at Paris, fired with anger at the most trifling demand made by the most insignificant creditor, to threaten to pay the debt with his sword. Every time he saw the Emperor, said Napoleon, it was to hint at some fresh embarrassment, be reprimanded and assisted. In the campaign of Austerlitz, he came to the Emperor at Schönbrun; but this time, said Napoleon, it was not to intercede precisely for himself. He took at this period a most lively interest in the beautiful Madame Recamier. He had just arrived from Paris, and began his conversation with the Emperor by a most virulent philippic against M. de Marbois, then Minister of the Treasury, who had been base enough, he said, to refuse M. Recamier a loan of only two millions, to save him from bankruptcy. All Paris was indignant. This Marbois, he added, was a wicked man, an unworthy servant, who did not love the Emperor. He, Junot, had gone to him and had used every endeavour to persuade him, but to no purpose. He had represented to him the enormity of his conduct, and had assured him (and such added Junot was the general opinion in Paris,) that if the Emperor had been in the capital he would have immediately ordered the money to be given to M. Recamier. “He was on a wrong scent,” said the Emperor, "for I coolly replied to this passionate lover who was almost out of his senses: ‘You and Paris are both mistaken, I should not have ordered even two thousand _sous_ to be given; and I should have been very much displeased with De Marbois if he had acted otherwise than he has done. _I_ am not Madame Recamier’s lover, and I do not come forward to the assistance of merchants who keep up an establishment of six hundred thousands francs per annum. Know that, M. Junot, and learn also that the Treasury does not lend money to those whom it knows to have been long since on the road to bankruptcy; it has other claims to satisfy.’ Junot," added the Emperor, “was obliged to calm his emotion, thinking probably that there were hard-hearted people at Vienna as well as at Paris.”

Junot travelled as fast as the Emperor himself; he had his relays, said Napoleon, hundreds of horses, and other extravagances of the kind.

The Emperor added that, not so much in his capacity as sovereign, but as being fond of Junot, and actuated also by a sort of feeling derived from the similarity of birth-place, he being also originally from Corsica, he had one day sent for Madame Junot, in order to give her some paternal admonitions on the subject of the extravagance of her husband’s expenditure, the profusion of diamonds which she herself had inconsiderately displayed after her return from Portugal, and her intimate connections with a certain foreigner, which might give umbrage in a political point of view. But she rejected this advice, dictated alone by concern for her interest. “She grew angry,” said the Emperor, “and treated me like a child; nothing then remained for me to do but to send her about her business, and abandon her to her fate. She fancied herself a princess of the family of the Comnenes; and Junot had been made to believe it when he was induced to marry her. Her family was from Corsica, and resided in the neighbourhood of mine; they were under great obligations to my mother, not merely for her benevolence towards them, but for services of a more positive nature.” The Emperor then gave the following explanation:

"The Genoese, in evacuating the Morea, had formerly carried a colony of Maniotes to Corsica and settled them in the neighbourhood of Ajaccio. M. de Vergennes, while he was ambassador at Constantinople, married a Greek woman; and, on his return to France, being greatly in favour with Louis XVI. he took it into his head that he must have married a princess. It so happened that some political circumstances occurred to favour his wish; the downfall of Constantinople was believed in at that moment, and it would have suited France to advance some pretensions to a portion of that empire. A man of the name of Comnene, a relation of Madame de Vergennes, was therefore sent for from the Greek colony near Ajaccio, and, having been brought to Versailles, was soon after, by virtue of letters-patent of Louis XVI., acknowledged a descendant from the Emperors of Constantinople. This said Comnene was a large farmer, whose sister had unexpectedly married, some years before, a Frenchman, a clerk in the victualling department named P—. After the elevation of the family, and through the interest of M, de Vergennes, this P—, clerk in the victualling department, had become a man of great consequence, having had the contract for supplying the whole army of Rochambeau. The daughter of the clerk was this very Madame Junot, duchess of Abrantes.

“Junot, in the campaign of Russia, gave me great cause of dissatisfaction;” said the Emperor, “he was no longer the same man, and committed some gross blunders which cost us dear.”

After the return from Moscow, Junot, in consequence of the dissatisfaction he had given, lost the governorship of Paris; and the Emperor sent him to Venice. However that species of disgrace was almost immediately softened, by his appointment as Governor-general of Illyria; but the blow was struck. The frequent incoherences which had been observed in Junot’s behaviour for some time past, and which had arisen from the excesses in which he had indulged, broke out at last into complete insanity. It was necessary to secure him, and to convey him home to his paternal mansion, where he died miserably shortly afterwards, having mutilated his person with his own hands. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

MARSHAL LANNES.—MURAT AND HIS WIFE, &C.

Sunday, 14th.—During the dinner, speaking of dress, it was said that, amongst the number of great personages of that time, none had carried extravagance in that point further than Murat, and yet, some one observed, his dress was for the most part so singular and fantastic that the public called him King Franconi.[28]

Footnote 28:

Director of a theatre at Paris, similar to Astley’s here.

The Emperor laughed very heartily, and confessed that certain costumes and manners sometimes gave to Murat the appearance of a quack operator or a mountebank. It was added that Bernadotte also took infinite pains with his dress, and that Lannes bestowed much time upon his. The Emperor expressed himself much surprised at what he had heard respecting the two latter, and this led him to repeat how sincerely he regretted the loss of Marshal Lannes. “Poor Lannes,” said he, "had passed the night which preceded the battle, in Vienna, and not alone. He appeared on the field without having taken any food, and fought the whole day. The physician said that this triple concurrence of circumstances caused his death, he required a great deal of strength after the wound to enable him to bear it, and unfortunately nature was almost exhausted before.

“It is generally said,” the Emperor observed, “that there are certain wounds, to which death seems preferable; but this is very seldom the case, I assure you. It is at the moment we are going to part with existence that we cling to it with all our might. Lannes, the most courageous of men, deprived of both his legs, would not hear of death, and was irritated to such a degree as to declare that the two surgeons who attended him deserved to be hanged for behaving so brutally towards a Marshal. He had unfortunately overheard them whisper to each other, as they thought without being heard, that it was impossible he could recover. Every moment the unfortunate Lannes called for the Emperor; he twined himself round me,” said Napoleon, “with all he had left of life; he would hear of no one but me, he thought but of me; it was a kind of instinct! Undoubtedly he loved his wife and children better than me; yet he did not speak of them: it was he that protected them, whilst I on the contrary was his protector. I was for him something vague and undefined, a superior being, his Providence, which he implored!”

Somebody then observed that the world had spoken very differently on the subject; that it had been reported that Lannes had died like a maniac, vociferating imprecations against the Emperor, at whom he seemed enraged; and it was added that he had always an aversion to the Emperor, and had often manifested it to him with insolence. “What an absurdity,” said the Emperor, “Lannes, on the contrary, adored me. He was assuredly one of the men on whom I could most implicitly rely. It is very true that, in the impetuosity of his disposition, he has sometimes suffered some hasty expressions against me to escape his lips, but he would probably have broken the head of any person who had chanced to hear them.”

Returning to Murat, some one observed that he had greatly influenced the unfortunate events of 1814. “He determined them,” said the Emperor, “he is one of the principal causes of our being here. But the fault is originally mine. There were several men whom I had made too great; I had raised them above the sphere of their intelligence. I was reading, some days since, his proclamation on abandoning the Viceroy, which I had not seen before. It is difficult to conceive any thing disgraced by a greater degree of turpitude: he says in that document that the moment is come to choose between two banners, that of crime and that of virtue. It is my banner which he calls the banner of crime! and it is Murat, my creature, the husband of my sister, the man who owed every thing to me, who would have been nothing without me, who exists by me, and is known through me alone—it is Murat who writes this! It is impossible to desert the cause of misfortune with more unfeeling brutality; and to run with more unblushing baseness to hail a new destiny.”

From that moment, Madame (mother of the Emperor) refused to have any thing more to do with either Murat or his wife; to all their entreaties she invariably answered that she held traitors and treachery in abhorrence. As soon as she was at Rome, after the disasters of 1814, Murat hastened to send her eight magnificent horses out of his stables at Naples; but Madame would not accept them. She resisted, in like manner, every effort of her daughter Caroline, who constantly repeated that, after all, the fault was not hers; that she had no share in it; that she could not command her husband. But Madame answered, like Clytemnestra—"If you could not command him, you ought at least to have opposed him:—but what struggles have you made? what blood has flowed? At the expense of your own life, you ought to have defended your brother, your benefactor, your master, against the sanguinary attempts of your husband.

“On my return from Elba,” said the Emperor, "Murat’s head was turned, on hearing that I had landed in France. The first intelligence he received of this event informed him that I was at Lyons. He was accustomed to my great returns of fortune; he had more than once seen me placed in most extraordinary circumstances. On this occasion, he thought me already master of all Europe, and determined to endeavour to wrest Italy from me; for that was his object, the aim of all his hopes. It was in vain that some men, of the greatest influence amongst the nations which he attempted to excite to rebellion, threw themselves at his feet and assured him that he was mistaken; that the Italians had a king on whom alone they had bestowed their love and their esteem. Nothing could stop him; he ruined himself, and contributed to ruin us a second time; for Austria, supposing that he was acting at my instigation, would not believe my professions, and mistrusted me. Murat’s unfortunate end corresponds with his conduct. Murat was endowed with extraordinary courage and little intelligence. The too great disproportion between those two qualities explains the man entirely. It was difficult, even impossible, to be more courageous than Murat and Lannes; but Murat had remained courageous and nothing more. The mind of Lannes, on the contrary, had risen to the level of his courage; he had become a giant. However," said the Emperor, in ending the conversation, “the execution of Murat is nevertheless horrible. It is an event in the history of the morals of Europe; an infraction of the rules of public decorum.—A king has caused another king, acknowledged by all the others, to be shot! What a spell he has broken!” . . . . . . . . .

SUMMARY OF THE THREE MONTHS OF APRIL, MAY, AND JUNE.

I have already observed that, in a work like the present, it is impossible to keep up in any point a unity of interest and of object; I shall, therefore, now attempt to supply this defect by retracing, in a very few words, and uninterruptedly, the circumstances of aggravation which have occurred in the Emperor’s situation during these three months; the repeated instances of ill-treatment to which he has been subjected; the visible decline of his health; the general tenor of his habits; the principal topics of his conversation:—in a word, the bulletin, both physical and moral, of his person, during that short space of time.

1st. A new Governor arrives, who turns out to be a man of either very narrow views, or very bad intentions—a corporal with his watch-word, instead of a general with his instructions.

2dly. A declaration is required from every one of the captives that he submits beforehand to all the restrictions that may be imposed on Napoleon, and this in the hopes of detaching them from his person.

3dly. An official communication is made to us of the convention of the allied Sovereigns, who, without further ceremony, proclaim and sanction the banishment of Napoleon.

4thly. We receive the bill of the British Parliament, which converts into a law the act of oppression of the English ministers towards the person of Napoleon.

5thly. Lastly, Commissioners come in the name of their Sovereigns, to watch over the fetters, and contemplate the sufferings of the victim. Thus our horizon grows darker and darker, our chains are shortened, all hopes of amelioration vanish, and the most gloomy prospects are all that the future presents.

The arrival of the new Governor is the signal for the infliction of greater hardships. For the person of the Emperor it is the commencement of a new series of torments; every day he is wounded by the recurrence of some petty vexation.

The first step of Sir Hudson Lowe is an insult; his first word one of cruelty; one of his first acts, an act of inhumanity.

After that, he seems to have no other occupation, to have received no other instruction, than to torment us and make us suffer under every shape, on every occasion, and in every way.

The Emperor, who had at first resolved to adopt a system of strict stoicism, is nevertheless moved with indignation at this conduct, and expresses himself in strong terms. Conversations grow warm; the breach is made; it will grow wider every day.

The Emperor’s health is visibly affected, and we can observe a rapid alteration. Contrary to his natural temperament, he very frequently feels indisposed; on one occasion he is confined to his room for six days running, without going out at all. A secret melancholy, which endeavours to conceal itself from every eye, and perhaps from his own, begins to take possession of him; the latent seeds of disease appear already to be lurking in his system. He contracts every day the circle, already so confined, of his movements and his diversions. He gives up riding on horseback; he no longer invites any English to dinner,—he even abandons his daily occupations. The dictations in which he had hitherto seemed to take pleasure, are suspended. Disgust had seized him, he would sometimes say to me, and he could not muster courage enough to resume them. The greatest part of his days is passed in turning over books in his own apartment, or in conversing with us either publicly or in private; and in the evening, after dinner, he reads to us some plays of our great poets, or any other work which chance or the choice of the moment brings to his hand.

Yet the serenity of his mind, the equanimity of his disposition towards us, are not in the least impaired; on the contrary, we seem more united like one family. He is more ours, and we belong more to him; his conversations offer a greater degree of confidence, freedom, and interest.

He would now often send for me into his room, to converse with him; and these private conversations would sometimes lead him to subjects of great importance,—such as the war in Russia, that of Spain, the conferences of Tilsit and Erfurth, which will be found in this portion of my Memoirs.

END OF VOL. II.

ANDOVER: STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY B. BENSLEY.

Footnotes

Transcriber’s Note

Certain conventions of the text have been modified. For instance, a series of dots (....) were employed where a name was elided. These have been replaced with long dashes (———) in order to avoid awkward line breaks.

Given the publication date, spelling has been generally allowed to stand as printed. But errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and are noted here.

There were a number of instances in the text where quoted words were missing either an opening or closing quotation mark. The proper placement is not always obvious, but the most plausible choice has been made. The paragraph beginning at the foot of p. 294 was particularly obscure and has been left to the reader to decipher.

The issues tabulated below should be noted, along with the resolutions. The references below are to the page and line in the original.

9.26 the glory and prosperity of their [‘/,] Inverted. 9.40 my establis[h]ment on the throne Added. 21.32 you were attending the birth of a cob[b]ler’s Added. son. 30.13 they had been greatly deceived on [t]his Added. point. 36.33 leading in very different d[i]rections. Added. 45.40 [“]I shall keep this and give you mine Added. 55.15 We wanted all this, and, ther[e]fore], in Added. spite of 55.17 plunged into confusion and t[mulu/umul]t Transposed. 55.36 and said, [“]You see his best friends Added. 62.21 the leading star of the nations....[”] Added. 63.4 said the Emperor, “[h]e decided the fate of Added. France 67.17 he did not spare him[.] Added. 68.19 “Sire,” said he at length, [“]a circumstance Added. occurred to me 80.31 "Art. V.[—]His Majesty the King Added. 89.7 an aide-de-camp is the best man that can be Added. chosen[.] 90.20 [“/‘]You will see that they will hold Replaced. 90.22 detained me to-day.[’]” Added. 101.13 Abb[e/é] de Pradt," continued the Emperor Replaced. 105.33 [“]Talleyrand, perhaps, might have done this: Added. 106.16 How many arra[n]gements should I not have Added. proposed! 108.20 [“]If all this be attributed Added. 120.30 It can be proved [t]hat this was merely the Restored. result 131.11 Here I committed an error,[”] said the Added. Emperor, 131.12 [“]which the more unpardonable Added. 133.28 [“/‘]We are placing,[”/’] Replaced 133.29 said they, [“/‘]an Italian Replaced. 133.31 on the Gauls.[’”] Added. 136.10 I placed one [one] of my brothers at their Removed. head 137.25 the period in which he flourished.[”] Added. 149.23 [“/‘]You had better have taken his life, I Replaced. should 149.26 me to console him in his misery.[’] Added. 167.38 ‘M. L[a/e] Sage,’ said he, Replaced. 168.4 a considerable time afterwar[d]s Added. 172.41 [“]There have been published Added. 174.27 two millions[,] worth of copies Removed. 180.28 till half-past eight o’clock[,/.] Replaced. 199.16 [“]I was provoked to the utmost extreme Added. 226.2 the Duke [D/d]’Enghien, Replaced. 231.19 on the part of the First Co[u]nsul to M. de Removed. Chateaubriand 241.10 your duties, submission, and dependance, Added. &c.[”] 267.37 [“]Two of the generals, Added. 270.22 [“]But this proved for me," said the Emperor Added. 276.30 who amused himself with calcu[l]ating Added. 281.15 complete liberty of universal exchange.[”] Added. 285.24 Brissot, Condorcet, Vergn[i]aud>, Gaudet Added. 288.1 All thos[e], in the higher classes of society Added. 300.38 acts of vileness have reduced France[’] in the Removed. eyes 303.38 the _corps [d]’armée_ Added. 315.22 said[,] “I found it a very difficult thing Added. 316.8 “Six, Sire.” [“]How the plague can that be?” Added. 317.7 “Well,[”] said he Added. 317.13 I can bet[t]er employ the leisure Added. 318.4 the Emperor’s place on an eleva[va]tion of one Removed. or two steps. 326.3 a discussion once arose respec[t]ing the plan Added. of a decree 334.29 19th.—To[ /-]day the Northumberland sailed Added. 354.5 in all the instruments and access[a/o]ries of Replaced. war. 382.21 [“]That is not the matter;” Added. 385.6 he had chosen, in Cambac[èré/érè]s and Lebrun, Transposed. 387.16 of this blockade of Madame Bert[r]and Added. 397.26 [“]However,” said the Emperor Removed.