28th.—When I rose in the morning, I felt ill, and wished to bathe my feet; but no water could be procured for that purpose. I mention this circumstance to afford an idea, if possible, of our real situation at Longwood. Water has always been very scarce here; but there is less now than ever, and we consider ourselves singularly fortunate when we are able to procure a bath for the Emperor. We are no better provided with other things necessary in medical treatment. Yesterday, the Doctor was mentioning, in the Emperor’s presence, drugs, instruments, and remedies of various kinds; but, as he enumerated each article, he added: “Unfortunately, there is none to be procured on the Island.”—“Then,” said the Emperor, “when they sent us hither, they took it for granted that we should be always well?” Indeed we are in want of the veriest trifles and necessaries. As a substitute for a warming-pan, the Emperor has been obliged to have holes bored in one of the large silver dishes, used for keeping the meat warm at table, which is now filled with coals, and used for the purpose of warming his bed.—For some time past, he has very much felt the want of spirits of wine, by means of which, he might have warmed his drink.

The Emperor has continued unwell the whole of the day: his face is still very much swelled, but the pain has somewhat abated. On entering his chamber, I found him sitting by the fire, reading the The Emperor found himself obliged to retire to bed as early as he did yesterday. He felt chilly, and seemed to be threatened with another attack of fever; he also felt symptoms of cramp. A little soup was the only nourishment he had taken since yesterday. He complained that his bed was badly made, and that every thing seemed to be wrong; the bed-clothes were not arranged as he wished, and he ordered them to be spread out differently. He remarked that all who surrounded him had calculated on his preserving his health, and that they would certainly be very inexperienced and awkward, should he happen to be attacked with a serious fit of illness.

He ordered some tea to be made of orange-tree leaves, for which he had to wait a considerable time. During the delay, he evinced a degree of patience of which I should certainly have been incapable.

He conversed, when in bed, on the early years of his life which he spent at Brienne, the Duke of Orleans, and Madame de Montesson, whom he recollected having seen. He spoke also of the families of Nogent and Brienne, who were connected with the circumstances of his youth.

“When I was raised to the head of the government,” said Napoleon, “Madame de Montesson applied to me for permission to take the title of Duchess of Orleans, which appeared to me an extremely ridiculous request.” The Emperor had supposed that she was only the mistress of the Prince; but I assured him that she had really been married to the Duke, with the consent of Louis XVI., and that, after the death of her husband, she always signed herself the Duchess Dowager of Orleans. The Emperor said he had been ignorant of that circumstance. “But, at all events,” said he, “what had the First Consul to do with the business? This was always my answer to the persons interested in the case, who were, however, not much satisfied with me. But was it to be expected that I should adopt, immediately, all the irregularities and absurdities of the old school?”

29th.—My son was ill, and I was myself by no means well, being still troubled with restlessness during the night. The Doctor came to see us. He informed me that the Emperor was better; but that he was wrong in refusing to take medicine.

The Emperor did not send for me until five o’clock. He still complained of a violent pain in his head. He had his feet in water, and he experienced a little relief from this kind of half bath. He lay down on the sofa, and took up the Memoirs of Noailles, from which he read aloud several passages, concerning the Duke de Vendome, the siege of Lille, and some others relative to the Duke of Berwick; all of which he accompanied by remarks in his own style,—novel, original, and striking. I very much regret that I am unable to record them here; but, as I had not made a fair copy of these latter sheets of my journal, when the manuscript was seized, I have now only the assistance of memoranda, frequently referring to circumstances which time has obliterated from my recollection.

The Emperor, observing on his drawers some confectionary, or sweetmeats, which had been accidentally left there, he desired me to bring them to him; and, seeing that I hesitated, and felt embarrassed, as to how I should present them, he said, “Take them in your hand; there is no need of ceremony or form between us now; we must henceforth be messmates.” Though this is a trifling circumstance, yet, to some, it will develope, more forcibly than volumes of description, the real turn of mind, character, and disposition, of the extraordinary individual to whom it relates: for men of judgment and observation will perceive, and draw conclusions, when others would not even form an idea. This consideration has induced me to insert in these volumes many things which I had originally intended to reject, through the fear that they might be thought insignificant, or, at all events, useless.

I have already mentioned that, in his moments of good-humoured familiarity, the Emperor was accustomed to salute me with all sorts of titles, such as “Good morning, After dinner, the Emperor received all his suite in his chamber. He was in bed; and he began to talk of the little faith he placed in the virtue of medicine. He observed that he used to support his opinions on this subject with such strong arguments that Corvisart and other celebrated physicians could but feebly oppose him, and that merely for the sake of maintaining the honour of the profession.

THE EMPEROR’S FIFTH DAY OF CONFINEMENT.—ANECDOTE
OF AN UNPAID BILL.—ON UNPOPULARITY.

30th.—The Emperor was no better to-day; and his periodical attack of fever returned at the usual hour. He was troubled with pimples on his lips and in his mouth, together with a sore throat, so that he felt pain in speaking, and even in swallowing. When the Doctor came in the evening, he brought with him a gargle for the Emperor’s throat: but it was with difficulty we prevailed on him to use it. There is no oil to be procured, fit for the Emperor’s use—it is execrable; and he is very fastidious.

In the course of conversation to-day, the Emperor, in alluding to the extravagance and debts of Josephine, mentioned that he himself, though the most regular man in the world, with respect to money-matters, once got into an unpleasant predicament at Saint-Cloud. “I was riding in my calash,” said he, “along with the Empress, when, amidst an immense crowd of people, I was accosted, in the Eastern style, as a Sultan might be addressed on his way to the mosque, by one of my tradesmen, who demanded a considerable sum of money, the payment of which had been, for a long time, withheld from him. The man’s demand was just,” remarked Napoleon, “and yet I was not to blame. I had paid the money at the proper time: the intermediate agent was solely in fault.”

At another time, when alluding to the unpopularity of which, he said, he had latterly been the object, I expressed my surprise that he had not endeavoured to counteract the libels that were published against him, and to recover popular favour. To this he replied, with an air of inspiration: “I had higher objects in view than to concern myself about flattering and courting a low multitude; a few insignificant coteries and sects. I should have returned victorious from Moscow, and then not only these people, but all France, and all the world, would have admired and blessed me. I might then have withdrawn myself mysteriously from the world, and popular credulity would have revived the fable of Romulus; it would have been said that I had been carried up to heaven, to take my place among the gods.”

About seven o’clock, the Emperor, finding himself very weak, retired to bed. When our dinner was ended, he received us all in his chamber, as he did yesterday; his bed-curtains being drawn. After a little desultory conversation, he took a fancy to have Robinson Crusoe read to him. Each of the gentlemen read a portion by turns, I alone being exempt, on account of my bad eyes. After an hour or two spent in this way, the Emperor took leave of us all, except the youngest of the party (General Gourgaud), whom he detained for the purpose of reading and conversing with him a little longer.

THE EMPEROR VIOLATES THE DOCTOR’S ORDERS.—THE
NAME OF THE GREAT NATION FIRST APPLIED TO
FRANCE BY NAPOLEON.

31st.—Fair weather had now returned: the day was delightful. The Emperor had kept his chamber for six days: and, tired of the monotony of the scene, he determined to disobey the Doctor’s orders. He went out; but he felt himself so extremely weak that he was scarcely able to walk. He ordered the calash, and we took a drive. He was silent and low-spirited, and suffered considerable pain, particularly from the eruption on his lips.

Shortly after his return, he desired me to attend him in his chamber. He felt very weak and drowsy. I prevailed on him to eat a little; and he also took a glass of wine, which, he said, somewhat revived him, and he found himself better. He then entered into conversation.

“As soon as I set foot in Italy,” said he, “I wrought a change in the manners, sentiments, and language, of our Revolution. I did not shoot the emigrants; I protected the priests, and abolished those institutions and festivals which were calculated to disgrace us. In so doing, I was not guided by caprice, but by reason and equity—those two bases of superior policy. For example,” continued he, addressing himself to an individual present, “if the anniversary of the King’s death had always been celebrated, you would never have had an opportunity for rallying.”

The Emperor remarked that he himself was the first who applied to France the name of the Great Nation. “And certainly,” said he, “she justified the distinction in the eyes of the prostrate world.” Then, after a short pause, he added: “And she will yet deserve and retain that proud title, if her national character should again rise to a level with her physical advantages and her moral resources.”

On another occasion, speaking of a person to whom he was much attached, he said, “His character resembles that of the cow; gentle and placid in all things, except where his children are concerned. If any one meddles with them, his horns are immediately thrust forward, and he may be roused to a pitch of fury.”

Speaking of another, who had passed his thirtieth year, and whom he happened to say was too young, he observed, “And yet, at that age, I had made all my conquests, and I ruled the world. I had laid the revolutionary storm, amalgamated hostile parties, rallied a nation, established a government and an empire; in short, I wanted only the title of Emperor. I have, it must be confessed,” added he, “been the spoiled child of fortune. From my first entrance into life, I was accustomed to exercise command; and circumstances and the force of my own character were such that, as soon as I became possessed of power, I acknowledged no master, and obeyed no laws, except those of my own creating.”

Friday, November 1st.—To-day, the weather being very fine, the Emperor went out about two o’clock. After walking a little in the garden, he felt fatigued, and called at Madame Bertrand’s to rest himself. He sat there, upwards of an hour, in an arm-chair, without saying a word, and apparently suffering much from pain and weakness. He then returned languidly to his chamber, where he threw himself on his sofa, and fell into a slumber, as he did on the preceding day. I was very much distressed to observe the state of extreme debility to which he was reduced. He endeavoured to overcome his drowsiness; but he could neither converse nor read. I withdrew, in order that he might take a little rest.

An English frigate arrived from the Cape, on her way to Europe. This circumstance has afforded us an opportunity of writing to our friends. I have, however, denied myself the happiness of doing so; for the repeated complaints of the Governor, together with the consequences with which I was threatened, amount to an absolute prohibition of all correspondence with Europe. Perhaps a more favourable moment may arrive. At all events, I must be patient.

Doctor O’Meara called to see my son, who continued in a very precarious state. He was again bled yesterday, and fainted three or four times in the course of the day.

The Doctor took the opportunity of speaking to me on the subject of the Emperor’s health, and he assured me that he was by no means free from alarm as to the consequences of his confinement. He said that he was continually urging the necessity of exercise; and he begged that I would endeavour to prevail on the Emperor to go out more frequently. It was obvious that an alarming change had taken place in him. The Doctor did not hesitate to affirm that such complete confinement, after a life of activity, would be attended with the worst consequences; since any serious disorder, produced by the nature of the climate, or any accident to which he might be exposed, would infallibly prove fatal to him. These words, and the tone of anxiety in which they were uttered, deeply affected me. From that moment, I observed the sincere interest which the Doctor felt for Napoleon, and of which he has since afforded so many proofs.

The Emperor sent for me about six o’clock. He was taking a bath; and he appeared to be worse than when I had last seen him: this he attributed to going out yesterday. He, however, experienced some benefit from the bath; and he took up Lord Macartney’s Embassy to China, which he continued reading for some time, making various observations as he proceeded.

When he laid aside the book, he began to converse; and the situation of the French prisoners in England was one of the subjects that happened to come under discussion. I will here put together some remarks on this subject that fell from the Emperor on the present and other occasions.

The sudden rupture of the treaty of Amiens, on such false pretences, and with so much bad faith on the part of the English Ministry, greatly irritated the First Consul, who conceived that he had been trifled with. The seizure of several French merchant ships, even before war had been declared, roused his indignation to the utmost. “To my urgent remonstrances,” said the Emperor, “they coolly replied that it was a practice they had always observed; and here they spoke truth. But the time was gone by when France could tamely submit to such injustice and humiliation. I had become the defender of her rights and glory, and I was resolved to let our enemies know with whom they had to deal. Unfortunately, owing to the reciprocal situation of the two countries, I could only avenge one act of violence by another still greater. It was a painful thing to be compelled to make reprisals on innocent men; but I had no alternative.

“On reading the ironical and insolent reply that was returned to my complaints, I, that very night, issued an order for arresting, in every part of France, and in every territory occupied by the French, all Englishmen, of every rank whatever, and detaining them as prisoners, by way of reprisal for the unjust seizure of our ships. Most of these English were men of rank and fortune, who were travelling for their pleasure; but the more extraordinary the measure, the greater the injustice, the better it suited my purpose. A general outcry was raised. The English appealed to me; but I referred them to their own government, on whose conduct alone their fate depended. Several of these individuals proposed raising a subscription to pay for the ships that had been seized, in the hope of thereby obtaining permission to return home. I, however, informed them that I did not want money; but merely to obtain justice and redress for an injury. Could it have been believed that the English Government, as crafty and tenacious with respect to its maritime rights as the Court of Rome is in its religious pretensions, suffered a numerous and distinguished class of Englishmen to be unjustly detained for ten years, rather than authentically renounce for the future an odious system of maritime plunder.

“When I was first raised to the head of the consular government, I had had a misunderstanding with the English Cabinet, on the subject of prisoners of war; but I now carried my point. The Directory had been weak enough to agree to an arrangement extremely injurious to France, and entirely to the advantage of England.

“The English maintained their prisoners in France, and we had to maintain ours in England. We had but few English prisoners; and the French prisoners in England were exceedingly numerous: provisions were to be had almost for nothing in France; and they were exorbitantly dear in England. Thus the English had very trifling expenses to defray; while we, on the other hand, had to send enormous sums into a foreign country; and that at a time when we could but ill afford it. This arrangement, moreover, required an exchange of agents between the respective countries; and the English Commissioner proved to be neither more nor less than a spy on the French Government; he was the go-between and contriver of the plots that were hatched in the interior of France by the emigrants abroad. No sooner was I made acquainted with this state of things, than I erased the abuse by a stroke of the pen. The English Government was informed that, thenceforward, each country must maintain the prisoners it should make, unless an exchange were agreed upon. A terrible outcry was raised, and a threat was held out that the French prisoners should be suffered to die of starvation. I doubted not that the English Ministers were sufficiently obstinate and inhuman to wish to put this threat into execution; but I knew that any cruelty exercised towards the prisoners would be repugnant to the feelings of the nation. The English Government yielded the point. The situation of our unfortunate prisoners was, indeed, neither better nor worse than it had previously been; but, in other respects, we gained great advantages, and got rid of an arrangement which placed us under a sort of yoke and tribute.

“During the whole of the war, I incessantly made proposals for an exchange of prisoners: but to this, the English Government, under some pretence or other, constantly refused to accede, on the supposition that it would be advantageous to me. I have nothing to say against this. In war, policy must take place of feeling; but why exercise unnecessary cruelty? And this is what the English Ministers unquestionably did, when they found the number of prisoners increasing. Then commenced, for our unfortunate countrymen, the odious system of confinement in hulks; a species of torture, which the ancients would have added to the horrors of the infernal regions, had their imaginations been capable of conceiving it. I readily admit that there might be exaggeration on the part of the accusers; but was the truth spoken by those who defended themselves? We know what kind of thing a report to Parliament is. We can form a correct idea of it, when we read the calumnies and falsehoods that are uttered in Parliament, with such cool effrontery, by the base men who have blushed not to become our executioners. Confinement on board hulks is a thing that needs no explanation: the fact speaks for itself. When it is considered that men, unaccustomed to live on shipboard, were crowded together in little unwholesome cabins, too small to afford them room to move; that, by way of indulgence, they were permitted, twice during the twenty-four hours, to breathe pestilential exhalations at ebb tide; and that this misery was prolonged for the space of ten or twelve years;—the blood curdles at such an odious picture of inhumanity! On this point, I blame myself for not having made reprisals. It would have been well had I thrown into similar confinement, not the poor sailors and soldiers, whose complaints would never have been attended to, but all the English nobility and persons of fortune who were then in France. I should have permitted them to maintain free correspondence with their friends and families, and their complaints would soon have assailed the ears of the English Ministers, and checked their odious measures. Certain parties in Paris, who were ever the best allies of the enemy, would, of course, have called me a tiger and a cannibal; but no matter, I should have discharged my duty to the French people, who had made me their protector and defender. In this instance, my decision of character failed me.”

The Emperor asked me whether the French prisoners had been confined in hulks at the time when I was in England. I could not positively inform him; but I replied that I did not think they were, because I knew there were prisons for them in various parts of the country, where many of the English visited them, and purchased the productions of their industry. I added that they were, in all probability, but ill provided for, and exposed to many hardships; for a story used to be told of a government agent having visited one of the prisons on horseback, and no sooner had he alighted from his horse, and turned his back, than the poor animal was seized, cut to pieces, and devoured by the prisoners. I did not, of course, vouch for the fact; but the story was related by the English themselves, and the ignorant and prejudiced class did not regard it as a proof of the extreme misery to which the prisoners must have been reduced, but merely as an example of their terrible voracity. The Emperor laughed, and said he considered the anecdote to be a mere fabrication; observing that, if the fact were to be relied on, it was calculated to make human nature shudder; for, that nothing but hunger, urged to madness, could drive men to such a dreadful extremity. I was the more inclined to believe that the plan of confinement on board the hulks had not been introduced when I was in England, because I recollected that a great deal had been said about establishing the French prisoners in some small islands between England and Ireland. It was proposed to convey them thither, and to leave them to themselves, in a state of complete seclusion; and a few light vessels were to be kept constantly cruising about to guard them. To this plan it was, however, objected that, in case of a descent on the part of the enemy, his grand object would be to land on these islands, distribute arms among the prisoners, and thus recruit an army immediately. Perhaps, added I, this idea might have led to the use of hulks; for the prisoners were rapidly increasing in numbers, and it was not thought safe to keep them on shore among the people, as the latter betrayed a strong disposition to fraternize with the French. “Well,” said Napoleon, “I can very readily conceive that there might be good grounds for rejecting the plan you have just mentioned. Safety and self-preservation before all things. But the confinement in the hulks is a stain on the English character for humanity, an irritating sting, that will never be removed from the hearts of the French prisoners.”

“On the subject of prisoners of war,” continued Napoleon, “the English Ministers invariably acted with their habitual bad faith, and with the Machiavelism that distinguishes the school of the present day. Being absolutely determined to avoid an exchange, which they did not wish to incur the blame of having refused, they invented and multiplied pretences beyond calculation. In the first place, that I should presume to regard as prisoners, persons merely detained, was affirmed to be an atrocious violation of the laws of civilized nations, and a principle which the English Government would never avow, on any consideration whatever. It happened that some of the individuals detained, who were at large on parole, escaped, and were received triumphantly in England. On the other hand, some Frenchmen effected their escape to France. I expressed my disapprobation of their conduct, and proposed that the individuals of either country, who had thus broken their parole, should be mutually sent back again. But I received for answer that persons detained were not to be accounted prisoners; that they had merely availed themselves of the lawful privilege of escaping oppression; that they had done right; and had been received accordingly. After this, I thought myself justified in inducing the French to escape; and the English Ministers filled their journals with the most insolent abuse, declaring me to be a man who scrupled not to violate moral principle, faith, and law.

“When“When, at length, they determined to treat for an exchange of prisoners, or, perhaps, I ought rather to say, when they took it into their heads to trifle with me on this point, they sent a Commissioner to France. All the great difficulties were waved; and, with a fine parade of sentiment, conditions were proposed for the sake of humanity, &c. They consented to include persons detained in the list of prisoners, and to admit, under that head, the Hanoverian troops, who were my prisoners, but who were at large on parole. This latter point had been a standing obstacle; because, it was insinuated the Hanoverians were not English. Thus far matters had proceeded smoothly, and there was every probability of their being brought to a conclusion. But I knew whom I had to deal with: and I guessed the intentions that were really entertained. There were infinitely more French prisoners in England than English prisoners in France; and I was well aware that, the English being once safely landed at home, some pretence would be found for breaking off the exchange, and the rest of my poor Frenchmen might have remained on board the hulks to all eternity. I declared that I would accede to no partial exchange; that I would be satisfied only with a full and complete one; and, to facilitate matters, I made the following proposal. I admitted that there were fewer English prisoners in France than French prisoners in England; but, I observed, that there were among my prisoners, Spaniards, Portuguese, and other allies of the English, who had been taken under their banners and fighting in the same cause. With this addition, I could on my part produce a far more considerable number of prisoners than there were in England. I therefore offered to surrender up all, in return for all. This proposition, at first, occasioned some embarrassment; it was discussed and rejected. However, as soon as they had devised a scheme, by which they thought they could secure the object they had in view, they acceded to my proposition. But I kept a watchful eye on them: I knew that, if we began by merely exchanging Frenchmen for Englishmen, as soon as the latter should be secured, pretences would be found for breaking off the business, and the old evasions would be resumed; for the English prisoners in France did not amount to one-third of the French in England. To obviate any misunderstanding on either side, I therefore proposed that we should exchange by convoys of only three thousand at a time; that three thousand Frenchmen should be returned to me, and that I would send back one thousand English, and two thousand Hanoverians, Spaniards, Portuguese, and others. Thus, if any misunderstanding arose and put a stop to the exchange, we should still stand in the same relative proportions as before, and without having practised any deception upon each other: but if, on the contrary, the affair should proceed uninterruptedly to a conclusion, I promised to surrender up, gratuitously, all the prisoners that might ultimately remain in my hands. My conjectures respecting the real designs of the English Government proved to be correct: these conditions, which were really so reasonable, and the principle of which had already been adopted, were rejected, and the whole business was broken off. Whether the English Ministers really sympathized in the situation of their countrymen, or whether they were convinced of my firm determination not to be duped, I know not; but it would appear that they were at length inclined to come to a conclusion, when I subsequently introduced the subject by an indirect channel. However, our disasters in Russia at once revived their hopes, and defeated my intentions.”

The Emperor next remarked upon the treatment of prisoners of war in France, which, he said, was as generous and liberal as it possibly could be; and he thought that, on this subject, no nation could justly reproach us. “We have,” said he, “in our favour the testimony and the sentiments of the prisoners themselves; for, with the exception of those who were ardently attached to their local laws, or, in other words, to notions of liberty (and these were exclusively the English and Spaniards), all the rest, namely the Austrians, Prussians, and Russians, were willing to remain with us: they left us with regret, and returned to us with pleasure. This disposition on the part of the Spaniards and English has oftener than once influenced the obstinacy of their efforts or their resistance.”

The Emperor also made the following observation:—“It was my intention to have introduced into Europe a change with respect to the treatment of prisoners. I intended to enrol them in regiments, and to make them labour, under military discipline, at public works and buildings. They should have received whatever money they earned, and would thus have been secured against the misery of absolute idleness and the disorders arising out of it. They should have been well fed and clothed, and have wanted for nothing, without being a burden to the state. All parties would have been benefited by this plan. But my idea did not meet the approval of the Council of State, which, in this instance, was swayed by the mistaken philanthropy that leads to so many errors in the world. It was said that it would be unjust and cruel to compel men to labour. It was feared lest our enemies should make reprisals; and it was affirmed that a prisoner was sufficiently unfortunate in the loss of his liberty, without being placed under restraint as to the employment of his time. But here was the abuse of which I complained, and which I wished to correct. A prisoner, said I, must and should expect to be placed under lawful constraint; and that which I would impose on him is for his own advantage, as well as that of others. I do not require that he should be subject to greater misery or fatigue, but to less danger, than he is exposed to in his present condition. You are afraid lest the enemy should make reprisals, and treat French prisoners in the same manner. Heaven grant it should be so! I wish for nothing better! I should then behold my sailors and soldiers occupied in wholesome labour, in the fields or the public roads, instead of seeing them buried alive on board those odious hulks. They would return home healthy, industrious and inured to labour; and in every country they would leave behind them some compensation for the fatal ravages of war. By way of concession, the Council of State agreed to the organization of a few corps of prisoners as voluntary labourers, or something of the sort; but this was by no means the fulfilment of the scheme I had in view.”

NAPOLEON’S DESIGNS WITH REGARD TO ANTWERP.—HIS REFUSAL TO SURRENDER THAT CITY ONE OF THE CAUSES OF HIS FALL.—HIS GENEROUS SENTIMENTS IN REJECTING THE TREATY OF CHATILLON.—MARITIME WORKS.—OFFICIAL REPORT OF THE STATE OF THE EMPIRE IN 1813.—TOTAL AMOUNT OF EXPENDITURE IN PUBLIC WORKS, DURING THE REIGN OF NAPOLEON.

2d.—The Emperor did not leave his chamber to-day. When I waited on him, I found him very unwell from the effects of cold; and the secretion of saliva still continued.

I remained with him the greater part of the day. He sometimes endeavoured to converse, and sometimes tried to sleep. He was very restless, and often drew near the fire. He was evidently feverish.

In the course of the day, the conversation turned upon Antwerp; its arsenal, its fortifications, its importance, and the great military and political views he entertained with respect to that favourably situated place.

He remarked that he had done much for Antwerp, but that this was little in comparison with what he had proposed to do. He intended to have rendered it a fatal point of attack to the enemy by sea, and by land to have made it a certain resource, and a point of national security in case of great disasters. He would have rendered Antwerp capable of receiving a whole army in its defeat, and holding out against a close siege for the space of a year, during which time, he said, a nation would be enabled to rally in a mass for its deliverance, and to resume the offensive. Five or six places of this kind were, he added, to constitute the new system of defence, which he intended to have established. The works, which had been completed in so short a time at Antwerp, the numerous dock-yards, magazines, and canals, were already the subject of admiration; but all this the Emperor declared to be nothing. Antwerp was as yet, he said, merely a commercial town; the military town was to be constructed on the opposite bank of the river. For this purpose, ground had been purchased at a low rate, and it was to have been sold again at a high profit for the purpose of building; so that by this speculation, the expenses attending the enterprise would have been considerably diminished. The winter docks would have been capable of admitting three-deckers with all their guns on board; and covered dry docks were to have been constructed for laying up vessels in time of peace.

The Emperor remarked that the scheme he had formed would have rendered Antwerp a stupendous and colossal bulwark; and that it would have been a whole province in itself. Adverting to this superb establishment, he observed, that it had been one of the causes of his exile to St. Helena; that the demand for the cession of Antwerp was one of the circumstances which led him to reject the conditions of peace proposed at Chatillon. If the Allies had agreed to leave him in possession of Antwerp, he would in all probability have concluded peace; and he questioned whether he had not done wrong in refusing to sign the proposed ultimatum. “At that period,” said he, “I had doubtless many resources and chances; but yet, how much may be said in favour of the resolution I adopted! I did right,” added he, “in refusing to sign the ultimatum, and I fully explained my reasons for that refusal; therefore, even here, on this rock, amidst all my misery, I have nothing to repent of. I am aware, that few will understand me; but, in spite of the fatal turn of events, even the common mass of mankind must now be convinced that duty and honour left me no other alternative. If the Allies had thus far succeeded in degrading me, would they have stopped there? Were their offers of peace and reconciliation sincere? I knew them too well to put faith in their professions. Would they not have availed themselves of the immense advantages afforded them by the treaty, to finish by intrigue what they had commenced by force of arms? Then where would have been the safety, independence, and future welfare of France? Where would have been my honour, my vows? Would not the Allies have ruined me in the estimation of the people as effectually as they ruined me on the field of battle? They would have found public opinion too ready to receive the impression which it would have been their aim to give to it! How would France have reproached me for suffering foreigners to parcel out the territory that had been intrusted to my care! How many faults would have been attributed to me by the unjust and the unfortunate! Could the French people, full of the recollections of their glory, have patiently endured the burdens that would inevitablyinevitably have been imposed on them? Hence would have arisen fresh commotions, anarchy, and desolation! I preferred risking the last chances of battle, determining to abdicate in case of necessity.”^[1]

I acknowledged the justice of the Emperor’s observations. He had lost the throne, it is true, but voluntarily; and, because he chose rather to renounce it than compromise our welfare and his own honour. History will appreciate this sublime sacrifice. Power and life are transitory; but glory endures and is immortal.

“But, after all,” said the Emperor, “the historian will, perhaps, find it difficult to do me justice; the world is so overwhelmed with libels and falsehoods, my actions have been so misrepresented, my character so darkened and misunderstood.” To this, some one present replied that doubt could exist only during his life; that injustice would be confined solely to his contemporaries; that, as he had himself already remarked, the clouds would disperse in proportion as his memory advanced in posterity; that his character would rise daily and become the noblest subject for the pen of history; and that, though the first catastrophe might have proved fatal to his memory, owing to the outcry that was then raised against him, yet the prodigiesprodigies of his return, the acts of his brief government, and his exile to St. Helena, now left him crowned with glory in the eyes of nations and posterity. “That is very true,” replied the Emperor, with an air of satisfaction, “and my fate may be said to be the very opposite of others. A fall usually has the effect of lowering a man’s character, but, on the contrary, my fall has elevated me prodigiously. Every succeeding day divests me of some portion of my tyrant’s skin.”

After a few moment’s silence, the conversation was resumed, on the subject of Antwerp and the English expedition. “The English Government and its General” said the Emperor, “seemed to vie with each other in want of skill. If Lord Chatham, to whom our soldiers gave the nickname of On mentioning some facts, of which I had been a witness, I happened to observe that it was generally marshals who reviewed armies; but that here the rule had been reversed, and armies reviewed their marshals, three of whom had succeeded each other in a very short time. “Political circumstances,” said the Emperor, “called for this change. I sent Bessieres to Antwerp, because the crisis demanded a firm and confidential man; but, as soon as the critical period was expired, I sent another to succeed Bessieres, because I wished to have the latter near me.”

The maritime works of Antwerp, notwithstanding their immense extent, are but a small portion of those which were executed by Napoleon. Having been attached, as a member of the Council of State, to the department of the marine, I possess, 1. Fort Boyard, constructed for the purpose of enlarging and defending the anchorage of the Isle of Aix, whence, by dint of perseverance and intrepidity, a passage had been discovered out of sight of the enemy, between Oleron and the main-land, by which even ships of the line could reach the anchoring grounds of the Gironde and its outlets.

2. The extensive and superb works of Cherbourg. The dike, which was commenced under Louis XVI., and which had suffered considerable injury during the Revolution, was repaired; the central part being elevated nine feet above the highest level of the sea, and along an extent of 100 toises, for the purpose of mounting a battery of twenty guns of the largest calibre. This work was executed in less than two years, from 1802 to 1804, and with such success that, though it has been neglected since 1813, it has suffered no decay, and still retains all its original strength.

A large elliptical tower of granite was built in the centre, and within the dike, which it supports, and by which, it is, in its turn, covered. The massive foundations of this tower, which, being constructed in the open sea, of course presented enormous difficulties, were completed at the end of 1812, and raised to the height of six feet above the level of the highest tides. The solidity which it has preserved since that period, though in a state of neglect, and exposed to the violent action of the waves, is a manifest proof of the strength of the defensive works that were projected on this artificial rock, when the time should arrive for the full completion of the plan. This plan consisted in raising, at the height of one story, a barrack, capable of containing the garrison, a powder magazine, reservoir, &c.; this was to be surmounted by an arched platform, bomb-proof, and capable of receiving a casemated battery of nineteen thirty-six pounders, and above this was to be a second platform, capable of receiving mounted guns, if necessary; the whole crowning the central battery, already existing on the dike itself. Thus the enemy’s attack would have been resisted by four ranges of batteries one above another.

In less than eight years, a military port was excavated in the solid rock. It was capable of containing forty-five ships of the line, a proportionate number of frigates, three slips for building, &c. This asylum, so necessary for ships of the line, owing to the natural situation of the roads of Cherbourg, which are too much exposed to the violence of the waves, was dug thirty feet beneath the level of the sea, at the lowest ebb tide, in order to afford, at all times, a secure station for the largest ships. When it was opened in 1813, the moles and dikes were fully completed along its whole extent. At that time, the Empress Maria Louisa and all her Court witnessed the magnificent and sublime spectacle of the sudden irruption of the sea, which was admitted, simply by the spontaneous rupture of the immense dam that had hitherto repelled its efforts. The largest vessels immediately entered the enclosure, which has since afforded a convenient station for shipping, together with the requisite accommodations for building, repairing, and fitting out: in short, it possesses every advantage that might be expected in so important a creation of art, and is justly considered to be one of the noblest monuments of Napoleon’s reign. According to the Emperor’s plan, this stupendous work was intended only as a first or outward port; he had determined on constructing, in a lateral direction, at a little distance within it, a second or inner port, which was to be commenced immediately, and which would have been speedily completed, owing to the precautions that were previously adopted. It was to be large enough to receive twenty-five ships of the line, and behind these two ports, and extending along their whole length, in a semicircular form, there were to be built thirty covered docks, where the same number of ships of the line might be kept in constant readiness to put to sea. Such were the immense works executed or planned at Cherbourg alone.

3. The numerous works occasioned by the flotilla for the invasion of England.—It was necessary to provide anchorages, to render the preparations simultaneous, and to execute every offensive and defensive operation. All this required, at various points, the construction of forts of stone and wood, quays, basins, jetties, dams, sluices, &c.

Boulogne was chosen as the central point of assemblage; and Vimereux, AmbleteuseAmbleteuse, and Etaples, were the secondary points. Boulogne itself was rendered capable of receiving 2,000 ships of different kinds. Besides its natural port, an artificial basin was formed, by means of a dam, closed in the middle by a sluice, twenty-four feet wide. This basin was capable of containing 8 or 900 ships afloat, and in a constant state of readiness; and the sluice, from the preceding retention, had the advantage of producing currents of water, which increased the depth of the real port, and cleared its entrance of sand-banks, by which it was liable to be obstructed. Vimereux, Etaples, and Ambleteuse, were simultaneously rendered capable of receiving a proportionate number of ships: all these undertakings were completed in the space of two years.

4. Important local repairs and improvements in all the ports of the coast.—Havre was rendered accessible to frigates, by destroying, by means of a strong sluice, the banks of gravel that obstructed its entrance. Improvements were made at St. Valery, Dieppe, Calais, Gravelines, and Dunkirk; the port of the latter was cleared, and the marsh that covered the town was drained. A second flotilla was to be assembled at Ostend, to which a free entrance had been effected by clearing its channel.

5. The works of Flushing.—This town having momentarily fallen into the hands of the English, they destroyed all its military establishments when they evacuated it. The Emperor ordered the re-construction of the works on a much more extensive scale than before. Fully appreciating the important geographical situation of the place, he ordered the basin to be re-dug and enlarged, as well as its entrance. The channel was also to be deepened, so that the basin might be rendered capable of admitting even eighty-gun ships, and affording a winter station for a squadron of twenty ships, always ready to put to sea in one or two tides. This advantage was to be procured by means of a very ingenious plan, suggested by the naval Commandant of the place, and which consisted simply in confining the water at high tide, in the ditches of the town. The basin was a most important acquisition, as it afforded the means of making naval preparations, free from all the inconveniences of the Scheldt. Our ships would have been enabled to sail directly to the coast of England; and the English would thus have been compelled to keep cruisers constantly on the watch; whereas, hitherto, as soon as they knew that our ships were disarmed in Flushing, or had returned to Antwerp, on the approach of winter, they quietly went into port, having nothing to apprehend until the return of spring. But it was necessary to render the fortifications of Flushing equal to the protection of a whole squadron: consequently, defensive works were multiplied on various points; magazines and other establishments were re-constructed; and orders were issued for rendering them bomb-proof, and surmounting them with batteries. Flushing would have been thickly planted with cannon on all points, and would, in short, have been rendered impregnable.

6. Works commenced at Terneuse.—The importance of the western mouth of the Scheldt, for enabling our fleet to sail in and out, and the inconveniences attending the return of our ships to Antwerp, every year during the winter season, suggested to the Emperor the idea of forming a still greater arsenal than Flushing near the mouth of the river. Terneuse, on the left bank of the Scheldt, three leagues from the mouth of the river, was the point fixed on, and the works were immediately commenced. They were, however, suspended, on account of the great length of time, as well as the enormous expense, that would have been requisite for their completion.

7. The immense works at Antwerp.—This town, which is nearly twenty leagues distant from the sea, from which it is separated by a winding and very difficult channel, seemed to be destitute of every desirable advantage for the formation of a maritime arsenal; and it had hitherto presented only petty commercial establishments. A fleet built at Antwerp would, with difficulty, have been able to descend the river, and would have been but ill defended against the inclemencies of the weather, or the attempts of the enemy. It would have been useless during one third of the year; for the approach of winter forced the ships to come higher up, to avoid the current and ice of the river; there being no wet docks. But these numerous difficulties seemed as nothing in the eyes of Napoleon. In his impatience to make the English feel the dangers of the Scheldt, which they had themselves so frequently acknowledged to be formidable, he speedily concerted his plans, and, in less than eight years, Antwerp assumed the aspect of an important maritime arsenal, and a considerable fleet was already riding in the Scheldt. Every thing was done thoroughly and completely. Magazines, quays, dock-yards, &c. were newly constructed. A provisional asylum was found for the shipping against the ice of the river, at Rupel, while two great wet docks were dug in the town of Antwerp, capable of receiving vessels of all sizes with all their guns on board. Twenty slips for building were raised all in a line, as if by enchantment, and twenty vessels, lying in these slips at once, presented to the traveller, arriving by the TÊte de Flandres, the imposing and singular spectacle of twenty vessels of the line ranged as a squadron. Most of these works, however, Napoleon regarded merely as a temporary provision borrowed from commerce. He intended to establish a complete and much larger arsenal facing Antwerp, on the bank of the river, opposite to the TÊte de Flandres. He at first conceived the bold design of throwing a bridge across the Scheldt; but he at length determined in favour of flying-bridges, of a very ingenious construction. The Emperor, as I have already observed, had formed the grandest ideas respecting the improvements at Antwerp, and the details of his plan extended as far as the sea. He used to say that he intended to make Antwerp a province, a little kingdom, in itself. To this object he devoted himself with that degree of interest which he might be expected to evince in the execution of one of his most favourite projects. He made several journeys to Antwerp, for the purpose of personally inspecting the works in their most trivial details.

On one of these occasions, he happened to fall in with a Captain or Lieutenant-Colonel of Engineers, who was modestly assisting in the fortifications of the place, and with whom he entered into the discussion of certain points connected with the business in which he was engaged. Shortly afterwards, the officer unexpectedly received a letter, informing him that he was appointed Aide-de-camp to the Emperor, and directing him to repair to the Tuileries to enter upon his duties. The poor officer was filled with astonishment: he thought that he was dreaming, or, that the letter had been misdirected. He was so extremely diffident, and possessed so little knowledge of the world, that this announcement of his promotion threw him into great perplexity. He recollected having once seen me at Antwerp, and he begged I would render him my assistance. Accordingly, on his arrival in Paris, he came and assured me of his total ignorance of Court manners, and the embarrassment he felt in presenting himself to the Emperor. However, I soon succeeded in encouraging him; and, before he reached the gate of the palace, he had mustered a tolerable degree of confidence. This officer was General Bernard, whose great talents were brought into notice by this circumstance, and who, at the time of our disasters, proceeded to America, where he was placed at the head of the military works of the United States.

Napoleon loved to take people thus by surprise. Whenever he discovered talent, he never failed to raise it to its proper sphere, without suffering himself to be swayed by any secondary considerations. This was one of his striking characteristics.

8. The works in Holland.—No sooner had Holland fallen into the hands of Napoleon, than his creative ardour was immediately directed to all the different branches of her political economy. He repaired and enlarged the arsenals of the Meuse, Rotterdam, and Helvoetsluys. Hitherto ships of the line could not get up to Amsterdam, and could not get out from it without vast expense and labour; it being necessary to drag them on camels, unladen and without guns, to the opening of the Zuyderzee. This operation did not suit the rapidity necessary in the great enterprises of the period; and the Emperor determined to remove the northern arsenal to a situation in which it would be exempt from these disadvantages. He accordingly gave orders for the establishment or improvement of the Nievendip, where, in a short time, twenty-five ships of the line were provided with a safe winter station, and laid up beside magnificent quays. This important point was defended by the military establishments of the Helder, which formed the key of Holland. Napoleon’s plan was to make the Nievendip the Antwerp of the Zuyderzee.

9. Works of the Weser, the Ems, and the Elbe.—When Napoleon joined Bremen, Hamburg, and Lubeck, to the Empire, his plans and works extended with his dominion. He took measures for rendering the Elbe accessible to ships of the line, and projected a maritime arsenal at Delfzyl at the mouth of the Ems. But the object which particularlyparticularly engrossed the attention of Napoleon was the cutting of a line of canals which, with the help of the Ems, the Weser, and the Elbe, would have effected a junction between Holland and the Baltic. We should thus have been enabled to communicate safely, and by a simple system of inland navigation, from Bordeaux and the Mediterranean, with the Powers of the North. We should easily have obtained from them all kinds of naval productions for our ports, and we should have been able to send out against them, when we chose, our flotillas from the Channel, Holland, &c.

All these important works were planned, and most of them executed, with amazing rapidity. The creative genius of Napoleon conceived them, and DecrÈsDecrÈs, the minister, indefatigably prosecuted the designs that were suggested. The plans were drawn, and the works executed by Prosny, Sganzin, Cachin, and others. The names attached to such monuments are imperishable!

If, to what has here been described, be added other simultaneous prodigies in every other branch of the public service, and in every other part of the territory; and if it be considered that all were executed amidst perpetual war, and without more, perhaps even with less burdens, than now, after a long peace, weigh on the countries that composed the vast French Empire, it is impossible to repress astonishment and admiration. All these miracles were effected by steadiness of determination, talent armed with power, and finances wisely and economically applied! Certainly, if, in addition to what has already been mentioned, the mass of fortifications, the multitude of public roads, bridges, canals, and edifices of various kinds, be taken into account, it must be acknowledged that no sovereign in the world ever did so much in so short a time, and by imposing so few burdens on his people.

Italy, of which Napoleon was king, also enjoyed her share of his magnificent improvements. He cut fine roads across the Alps and the Apennines; established a maritime arsenal at Genoa; fortified Corfu, so as to make that island the key of Greece; repaired and enlarged the port of Venice; and, while the works were proceeding, it was rendered capable of admitting French ships of the line, by means of the camels used in Holland. To obviate the risk of the ship being attacked by the enemy, during this hazardous conveyance, a plan was proposed by which they were to be enabled to carry their own guns; and it was, I believe, successfully adopted. Napoleon, moreover, intended to establish a naval arsenal at Ragusa, another at Pola, in Istria, and a third at Ancona. He conceived the happy and bold idea of forming a junction between the gulfs of Venice and Genoa, by the help of the Po, and a canal extending from Alessandria to Savona, through the Apennines. This plan would have been attended with the most important results; for, independently of its immense commercial and military advantages, it would have established a direct and safe communication between Venice and Toulon; and the latter port would thus have received all the naval productions of the Adriatic free from any chance of their being attacked by the enemy. Finally, Napoleon cleared Rome of the rubbish with which it was encumbered, restored many ancient vestiges of the Romans, and formed the design of draining the Pontine marshes, &c.

I here subjoin the preamble of the Report on the state of the Empire, presented to the Legislative Body, in the sitting of the 25th of February, 1813, by Count Montalivet, Minister of the Interior. This superb Report, which is founded in all its points on authentic documents, is calculated to afford a just idea of the wonders of Napoleon’s government. I think I may properly close the present subject, by inserting an official statement of the expenses in public works, during the memorable reign of the Emperor.

“Gentlemen,—His Majesty has directed me to make you acquainted with the situations of the Interior of the Empire, during the years 1811 and 1812.

“You will have the satisfaction to observe that, notwithstanding the great armies which a state of war, both maritime and continental, has rendered indispensably necessary, the population has continued to increase; that French industry has made new progress; that the soil was never better cultivated, nor our manufactures more flourishing; and that at no period of our history has wealth been more equally diffused among all classes of society.

“The farmer now enjoys benefits to which he was formerly a stranger. He is enabled to purchase such land as suits him at the highest price; his food and clothing are better, and more abundant than before; and his dwelling is more substantial and convenient.

“Improvements in agriculture, manufactures, and the useful arts, are no longer rejected merely because they are new. Experiments are made in every branch of labour, and the methods that prove to be most advantageous are substituted for old ones. Artificial meadows are multiplied; the system of fallows is abandoned; the succession of crops is better understood, and improved plans of cultivation augment the produce of the soil. Cattle are multiplied, and the different breeds improved. The very labourer finds means to purchase, at a high price, Spanish rams and stallions of the finest breed. They are now sufficiently enlightened to know their real interests, and they do not scruple to make these valuable purchases. Thus the demands of our manufacturers, our agriculturists, and our armies, are every day better supplied.

“This high degree of prosperity is to be attributed to the liberal laws by which this great Empire is ruled, to the suppression of feudalism, tithes, mortmains, and monastic orders; measures which have created or set at liberty numerous private estates, which are now the free patrimony of a multitude of families, formerly mere paupers. It is also to be ascribed to the more equal division of wealth, to the clearness and simplification of the laws relative to landed property and mortgages, and to the promptitude observed in the decision of law-suits, which are now daily decreasing in number. To these same causes, and to the influence of vaccination, must be attributed the increase of the population. It may even be said that the conscription, which annually enrols under our banner the flower of the French youth, has had some share in contributing to this increase, by multiplying the number of marriages; because marriage fixes for ever the fate of the young Frenchman, who has once served in obedience to the law.”

Official statement of the expenditure in public works, from Napoleon’s accession to the imperial throne; presented, together with the vouchers, to the Legislative Body, by the Minister of the Interior.

3rd.—The Emperor still continued to seclude himself like a hermit. Towards evening he sent for me:—he informed me that he was somewhat relieved of his tooth-ache, though he was not better in other respects. He said that he felt extremely weak and depressed in spirits, and that, during the whole day, his mind had been possessed with gloomy ideas. He was taking the bath, and, after a few moments’ silence, he said, as if making an effort to rouse himself, “Come, my Dinarzade, if you are not too drowsy, tell me one of your stories. It is long since you have told me any thing about your friends of the Faubourg St. Germain.”—“Sire,” I replied, “I have related so much on that subject that I fancy I have exhausted my whole stock of tales, whether true or false. Only the scandalous stories now remain untold, and in these your Majesty knows that you yourself were never spared. However, a droll anecdote just now occurs to me. One day, M. de T—— on leaving home to attend to his ministerial duties, informed his wife that he should bring back M. Denon with him to dinner. He wished the distinguished traveller to be treated with the utmost attention; and he told Madame de T—— that the best thing she could do would be to look over his work, so that she might be enabled to pay some handsome compliments to the author; at the same time informing her in what particular part of the library the book was to be found. Madame de T—— set about her task—she found the book exceedingly interesting, and was delighted at the thought of speedily being introduced to the hero. No sooner were the company seated at table, than she informed M. Denon, whom she had taken care to place beside her, that she had been reading his work, and that she had been very much pleased with it. M. Denon bowed, and the lady proceeded to remark on the singular countries he had visited, and the hardships he had endured, at the same time taking pains to assure him how deeply she sympathized in his troubles. M. Denon bowed again; and all went on very smoothly until Madame de T—— still addressing herself to M. Denon, declared how very much delighted she had been when his faithful Friday came to share his solitude. “Have you him still,” she asked. On hearing this, M. Denon started, and, turning to the person who sat on his other hand, he said: Is it possible that she can take me for Robinson Crusoe? The fact is, or I should more properly say, as the story goes, poor Madame de T—— had been reading the Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, instead of Denon’s Travels in Egypt.” The Emperor laughed heartily, and afterwards several times related the anecdote himself.

The conversation turned on the inventive malignity of Parisian society, and the fine story that was got up about the cabinet-maker, who awkwardly discovered to B—— the concealed drawer of a bureau, which happened to contain many secrets connected with his own family: the violent anger of B—— against The Emperor had now become animated, and he conversed for a considerable time. He happened to mention an officer whom, he said, he had not treated very well; and I ventured to observe that I believed he had, notwithstanding, been Aide-de-camp to a distinguished General. “What signifies that?” resumed the Emperor. “Don’t you know,” continued he, smiling, “that a general frequently has two aides-de-camp: one for the field and one for the household?”

He said a great deal respecting the national inaptitude of the French to close a revolution, or to adhere to any fixed order of things; and he alluded to the celebrated affair of Mallet, which he jokingly said might be called a miniature or a caricature of his own return from the Isle of Elba. “Mallet’s absurd plot,” said he, “might have been truly regarded as a hoax. A prisoner of state, an obscure individual, effected his own liberation, and, in his turn, imprisoned the Prefect and even the Minister of Police, those keepers of dungeons and detectors of plots, who suffered themselves to be caught in the snare like so many sheep. A Prefect of Paris, the born sponsor of his department, and moreover a very devoted subject, readily lent himself to every plan for assembling a government that had no existence. Ministers, appointed by the conspirators, were engaged in making their round of visits, when those who nominated them were again safely lodged in prison. Finally, the inhabitants of the capital learned in the morning the sort of political debauch that had taken place during the night, without having been in the least disturbed by it. Such an extravagant attempt,” said the Emperor, “could never have produced any result. Even had it succeeded, it must have fallen, of itself, in the space of a few hours; and the victorious conspirators would have thought only of hiding themselves amidst their success. I was, therefore, far less incensed at the attempt of the criminal than at the facility with which those who appeared most attached to me had been prevailed on to become his accomplices. On my arrival, each candidly related to me the details that concerned himself, and which served to criminate all! they frankly avowed that they had been caught, and had, for a moment, placed full faith in my overthrow. They did not deny that, in the delirium of the moment, they had entered into the designs of the conspirators; and they rejoiced with me at their happy escape. Not one of them mentioned the slightest resistance, or the least effort made to defend and perpetuate the existing government. This seemed never to have entered their heads: so accustomed were they to changes and revolutions, that all were perfectly resigned to the establishment of a new order of things. All therefore changed countenance, and manifested the utmost embarrassment; when, in a resolute tone of voice, I said, ‘Well, Gentlemen, it appears you thought my reign at an end; to that I have nothing to say. But where were your oaths to the King of Rome? What became of your principles and doctrines? You make me tremble for the future.’ I found it necessary to make an example, were it only for the sake of putting weak men on their guard for the future; and judgment fell upon poor Frochot, the Prefect of Police, who, I am sure, was attached to me. Yet, at the mere request of one of these mountebank conspirators, instead of making the resistance which his duty required; instead of manifesting a firm determination to perish at his post rather than yield; he very contentedly issued orders for preparing a place for the sitting of the new Government!—Indeed,” said the Emperor, “the readiness with which the French people accommodate themselves to change is calculated to prolong vicissitudes, which no other nation but themselves could endure. Thus, individuals of every party seem to be convinced that all is not yet settled; and Europe shares this opinion, which is founded not less on our natural inconstancy and volatility than on the mass of events that have occurred during the last thirty years.”

THE EMPERORS’S CONTINUED INDISPOSITION AND CONFINEMENT.—HE OBSERVES THAT HE OUGHT TO HAVE DIED AT MOSCOW OR WATERLOO.—EULOGIUM ON HIS FAMILY.

4th.—To-day, the Emperor would not receive any one during the whole of the morning. He sent for me at the hour he had appointed for taking the bath, during which, and for some time afterwards, he conversed on the knowledge of the ancients, the historians by whom it has been transmitted to modern times, the connecting links formed by different writers, &c. His reflections on this subject all led to the conclusion that the world is yet in its infancy, and human nature still more so. We then took a view of the structure of the globe, the irregularities of its surface, the unequal division of sea and land, the amount of its population, the scale by which that population was dispersed, the different political societies into which it was formed, &c. I calculated that Europe contained 170,000,000 inhabitants. The Emperor remarked that he himself had governed 80,000,000; and, I added that, after the alliance with Prussia and Austria, he had been at the head of more than 100,000,000. The Emperor then suddenly changed the conversation. He asked for my Atlas, and while he looked over it, he several times remarked that it was a truly invaluable work for youth.

Afterwards, when speaking of the wonders of his life and the vicissitudes of his fortune, the Emperor remarked that he ought to have died at Moscow; because, at that time, his military glory had experienced no reverse; and his political career was unexampled in the history of the world. He then drew one of those rapid and animating pictures, which he sketches off with so much facility, and which frequently rise to a degree of sublimity. Observing that the countenance of one of the persons, who happened to be present, was not exactly expressive of approbation, he said, “This is not your opinion? You do not think I ought to have closed my career at Moscow?”—“No, Sire,” was the reply; “for, in that case, history would have been deprived of the return from Elba, of the most generous and most heroic act that ever man performed; of the grandest and most sublime event that the world ever witnessed.”—“Well,” returned the Emperor, “there may be some truth in that; but, what say you to Waterloo? Ought I not to have perished there?”—“Sire,” said the person whom he addressed, “if I have obtained pardon for Moscow, I do not see why I should not ask it for Waterloo also. The future is beyond the will and the power of man; it is in the hands of God alone.”

At another time, the Emperor spoke of the different members of his family, the little assistance he had received from them, the many embarrassments they had occasioned him, &c. He particularly alluded to the mistaken notion they had conceived, that, being once placed at the head of a people, they should become identified with them, so as to prefer their interests to those of the common country. This idea, he said, might have originated in honourable feeling; but it was most erroneous and mischievous in its application. In their mistaken notions of independence, the members of his family sometimes seemed to consider their power as detached, forgetting that they were merely parts of a great whole, whose views and interests they should have aided instead of opposed. “But, after all,” continued he, “they were very young and inexperienced, and were surrounded by snares, flatterers, and intriguers, with secret and evil designs.” Then, passing suddenly from their faults to their good qualities, he added, “And yet, if we judge from analogy, what family, in similar circumstances, would have acted better? Every one is not qualified to be a statesman: that requires a combination of powers which does not often fall to the lot of one. In this respect, all my brothers were singularly situated; they possessed at once too much and too little talent. They felt themselves too strong to resign themselves blindly to a guiding counsellor, and yet too weak to be left entirely to themselves. But, take them all in all, I have certainly good reason to be proud of my family.

“Joseph would have been an ornament to society in any country; and Lucien would have been an honour to any political assembly. Jerome, as he advanced in life, would have developed every qualification requisite in a sovereign. Louis would have been distinguished in any rank or condition of life. My sister Eliza was endowed with masculine powers of mind: she must have proved herself a philosopher in her adverse fortune. Caroline possesses great talents and capacity. Pauline, perhaps the most beautiful woman of her age, has been, and will continue to the end of her life, the most amiable creature in the world. As to my mother, she deserves all kind of veneration. How seldom is so numerous a family entitled to so much praise! Add to this, that, setting aside the jarring of political opinions, we sincerely loved each other. For my part, I never ceased to cherish fraternal affection for them all; and I am convinced that in their hearts they felt the same sentiments towards me, and that, in case of need, they would have given me every proof of it.it.”

After dinner, the Emperor received all his suite, and we remained with him for upwards of an hour. He was in bed; but he conversed with facility, and was evidently better. We took leave of him with the hope of soon seeing him recovered. We remarked that he had not dined with us for the space of twelve days; and that without him our lives, our hours, our moments were deranged and devoid of interest.

GEOGRAPHY THE PASSION OF THE MOMENT.—STATE BED ARRIVED FROM LONDON.—THE EMPEROR CALLS IT A RAT-TRAP.—ANECDOTES RELATED BY THE ENGLISH.—LETTERS FROM ST. HELENA, &C.

5th.—The Emperor continued confined to his room. He sent for me, as he had done for several days past, at the hour appointed for taking his bath. He was somewhat relieved from the soreness in his mouth; but his teeth were still very tender. He resumed the conversation of the preceding day, on the structure of the globe, &c., for the Emperor now evinced an absolute passion for geography. He took my map of the world, and remarked on the irregular distribution of land and sea. He paused for a time on the vast table-land of Asia; and from the immense Pacific Ocean he passed to the more contracted space of the Atlantic. He started many questions relative to the variable and the trade winds, the monsoons of the Indian Ocean, the calm of the Pacific, the hurricanes of the West Indies, &c.; and he found at the respective places, on the map, the physical and speculative solutions which science furnishes on these subjects. This pleased him exceedingly, and he continued his perusal of the map, making remarks as he went over it: “Tables,” said he, “are of the highest use in assisting the mind to draw comparisons: they awaken and excite ideas. You have fallen on an excellent plan, in thus making your tables of history and geography embrace all the remarkable circumstances and phenomena connected with these sciences. I am every day better and better pleased with your book.”book.”^[2]

The Emperor wished to refer to some of the oldest books of travels; and the works of the monk Rubruquis, and the Italian Marco Polo were brought to him. He glanced over them, and remarked that they contained no information, and possessed no other merit than their old age.

On leaving the bath, he went to his bed-chamber, to see the grand bed that had been sent to him from London, and which had just been put up. It was surmounted by a sort of canopy, supported on four large posts, so high that it was found necessary to cut them at the foot, before it could be put up in the Emperor’s little bed-chamber, which it almost filled. Besides, it had, from some cause or other, a very disagreeable smell, and was altogether so bulky and unsteady that it suggested the idea of a tottering castle. The Emperor said it was an absolute rat-trap; but, that he would take care not to be caught in it. He ordered it to be removed immediately; remarking, that he did not wish to be troubled with such lumber. It was accordingly taken down, and the old camp-bed was substituted in its place. The confusion and inconvenience occasioned by these changes put the Emperor very much out of humour.

In the course of the day, I had a long conversation with an English seaman, an enthusiastic admirer of the Emperor, who related to me several anecdotes, which pleased me the more as they were entirely new to me. But though not generally known, they are not the less true; for some of the facts the narrator had obtained from unquestionable authority, and to others he had himself been a witness. When I afterwards mentioned some of these particulars to the Emperor, he immediately recollected them and acknowledged their correctness. However, my informant assured me that, to his great astonishment, these anecdotes had been but little circulated in England; and that there, as well as in France, whatever reflected honour on Napoleon, or showed his character in an advantageous light, was lost by that fatality to which I have so often alluded: for calumny and falsehood constantly overwhelmed all that was good beneath the mass of evil that was invented. The following are some of the anecdotes, to which I have just now alluded.

“We were treated,” said my narrator, “in the best manner possible. At Verdun, the depÔt of the English prisoners of war, we enjoyed the same privileges as the inhabitants. Verdun is a very pleasant town, and we found provisions and wine exceedingly cheap. We were allowed to walk several miles beyond the town, without the trouble of asking permission; and we could, if we pleased, obtain leave to absent ourselves for several days at a time. In short, we were so well protected against all sorts of vexations, that the General, under whose command we were placed, having been guilty of some irregularities in his treatment of us, was ordered to Paris, by the special command of Napoleon, and from fear of the punishment that awaited him, he committed suicide. It once happened that we received orders to confine ourselves to our lodgings, and we were informed that we should not be allowed to quit them for several days; the reason assigned for this measure was that the Emperor intended to pass through Verdun, and that it was not thought safe to allow him to be surrounded by so many of the enemy’s prisoners. Besides the disappointment of our curiosity (for we very much wished to see Napoleon), this order hurt us exceedingly. Do they distrust brave English seamen? we thought. Is it possible that they confound us with assassins? Be this as it might, we were doomed to be close prisoners; when, on the day of Napoleon’s arrival, we were, to our surprise, informed that we were again at liberty, and that the Emperor very much disapproved of the order that had been given for our confinement. We eagerly thronged to see the Emperor, and he passed us unattended by any escort, with an air of perfect security, and even with an expression of kindness, which quite delighted us. Our acclamations were not less sincere than those of the French themselves.

“Napoleon and Maria Louisa, returning from their journey in Holland, arrived at Givet on the Meuse, where several hundred English prisoners were at that time collected. A sudden storm arose; there was a heavy fall of rain, the river overflowed its banks, and the pontoon bridge was broken and rendered impassable. However, the Emperor, anxious to continue his journey, and not being in the habit of thinking any thing impossible, resolved to cross the river at all hazards. All the boatmen in the neighbourhood were collected together; but not one would attempt to cross. ‘However,’ said Napoleon, ‘I am determined to be on the other side of the river before noon.’ He immediately ordered some of the principal English prisoners to be brought to him: ‘Are there many of you here?’ said he, ‘and are there any sailors among you?’ ‘There are 500 of us, and we are all seamen,’ was the reply. ‘Well, I want to know whether you think it possible to cross the river, and whether you will undertake to convey me to the opposite bank.’ It was acknowledged to be a hazardous attempt, but some of our veterans undertook to accomplish it. Napoleon got into the boat with a degree of confidence that surprised us, and he reached the opposite bank in safety. He heartily thanked those who had rendered him this service, and ordered that they should be supplied with new clothes. To this he added a pecuniary present, and granted them their liberty.

“A young English sailor, seized with an ardent longing to return to his country, escaped from a depÔt, and succeeded in making his way to the coast, in the neighbourhood of Boulogne, where he concealed himself in the woods. His eager desire to return home suggested to him the idea of making a little boat, to enable him to reach some of the English cruisers, which he spent the greater part of the day in watching, from the tops of the trees on the shore. He was seized just at the moment when he was about to put to sea with his little boat, and to make a desperate attempt to secure his liberty. He was imprisoned on suspicion of being a spy or a robber. This circumstance reached the ears of Napoleon, who was then at Boulogne, and he felt a curiosity to see the boat, of which he heard so much. When it was shown to him, he could not bring himself to believe that any rational being would have ventured to put to sea in it. He ordered the sailor to be brought to him, and the young man declared that he had really intended to escape, with the aid of his boat, and the only favour he asked was permission to execute his project. ‘You appear very eager to return to England,’ said the Emperor; ‘Perhaps you have left a sweetheart behind you?’ ‘No,’ replied the young man, ‘but I have a mother, at home, who is old and infirm, and I am anxious to return to her.’—‘Well, you shall return,’ said Napoleon; and he immediately ordered that the young man should be provided with new clothes, and sent on board the first English cruiser that might appear in sight. He also directed that he should be furnished with a sum of money, as a present to his mother, remarking that she must be a good mother, to have so good a son.”^[3]

Among the many acts of kindness which the Emperor exercised towards the English, who were detained in France, there is one which happened to come within my own knowledge, and of which a Mr. Manning was the object. This gentleman, whom I knew very well in Paris, and who had been induced to travel for the sake of scientific investigation, thought he might obtain his liberty by addressing a petition to Napoleon, praying for permission to visit the interior of Asia. His friends laughed at his simplicity; but he turned the laugh against us when, at the expiration of a few weeks, he triumphantly informed us of the success of his application. I find it mentioned in Dr. O’Meara’s work, that this same Mr. Manning, after a peregrination of several years, touched at St. Helena, on his return to Europe, and urgently requested leave to see Napoleon, in order to express his gratitude by laying a few presents at his feet, and answering any inquiriesinquiries he might make respecting the Grand Lama, whom he had had an opportunity of visiting through the Emperor’s particular favour.

PHYSICAL ADVANTAGES OF RUSSIA.—HER POLITICAL POWER.—REMARKS ON INDIA.—PITT AND FOX.—IDEAS ON POLITICAL ECONOMY.—COMPANIES, OR FREE TRADE.—M. DE SUFFREN.—THE EMPEROR’S REMARKS ON THE NAVY.

6th.—The Emperor continued in a state of convalescence, and he received some visitors about the middle of the day. I waited upon him, accompanied by Madame de Montholon. He conversed a great deal about the society of Paris, and related several anecdotes of the Tuileries.

In the evening, the Emperor resumed his geographical observations. He dwelt particularly on Asia; on the situation of Russia, and the facility with which the latter power might make an attempt on India, or even on China, and the alarm which she might, therefore, justly excite in the English. He calculated the number of troops that Russia might employ, their probable point of departure, the route they would be likely to pursue, and the wealth they would obtain in such an enterprise. On all these subjects he made the most curious and valuable remarks. I very much regret my inability to record them here, for my notes, in this instance, afford me only slight hints, and I cannot trust to the accuracy of my memory for filling up the details.

The Emperor next adverted to what he called the admirable situation of Russia against the rest of Europe, to the immense mass she possessed for invasion. He represented that power seated beneath the pole, and backed by eternal bulwarks of ice, which, in case of need, would render her inaccessible. Russia, he said, could only be attacked during one third or fourth of the year; while, on the contrary, she had the whole year, the whole twelve months, to act against us; her assailants would encounter the rigours and privations of a frigid climate and a barren soil, while her troops, pouring down upon us, would enjoy the fertility and charms of our southern region.

To these physical circumstances, continued the Emperor, may be added the advantage of an immense population, brave, hardy, devoted and passive, including those numerous uncivilized hordes, to whom privation and wandering are the natural state of existence. “Who can avoid shuddering,” said he, “at the thought of such a vast mass, unassailable either on the flanks or in the rear, descending upon us with impunity; if triumphant, overwhelming every thing in its course; or, if defeated, retiring amidst the cold and desolation, that may be called its reserves in case of defeat; and possessing every facility of issuing forth again at a future opportunity. Is not this the head of the Hydra, the AntÆus of fable, which can only be subdued by grappling it bodily, and stifling it in one’s arms. But where is the Hercules to be found? France alone could think of such an achievement, and it must be confessed we made but an awkward attempt at it.”

The Emperor was of opinion that, in the new political combination of Europe, the fate of that portion of the world depended entirely on the capacity and disposition of a single man. “Should there arise,” said he, “an Emperor of Russia, valiant, impetuous, and intelligent; in a word, a Czar with a beard on his chin, (this he pronounced very emphaticalllyemphaticallly) Europe is his own. He may commence his operations on the German territory, one hundred leagues from the two capitals, Berlin and Vienna, whose sovereigns are his only obstacles. He secures the alliance of the one by force, and with his aid subdues the other, at a single stroke. He then finds himself in the heart of Germany, amidst the Princes of the second rank, most of whom are either his relations or dependents. Meanwhile, he may, should he think it necessary, throw a few firebrands across the Alps, on the soil of Italy, ripe for explosion, and he may then march triumphantly to Paris to proclaim himself the new Liberator. I know if I were in such a situation, I would undertake to reach Calais in a given time, and by regular marching stations, thereto become the master and arbiter of Europe....” Then, after a few moments’ silence, he added, “Perhaps, my dear Las Cases, you may be tempted to say, as the minister of Pyrrhus said to his master, ‘And after all, to what purpose?’ My answer is, to establish a new state of society, and to avert great misfortunes. This is a blessing which Europe expects and solicits. The old system is ended, and the new one is not consolidated, and will not be so until after long and furious convulsions.”

The Emperor was again silent, and after measuring, with his compasses, the distances on the map, he observed that Constantinople was, from its situation, calculated to be the centre and seat of universal dominion.

He then alluded to the English settlements in India, and asked me whether I knew any thing of their history. I told him what little I knew on this subject.

Queen Elizabeth created an East India Company by virtue of her royal prerogative.

A century later, the Parliament created another. However, as these two companies were found to injure each other by their competitions, they were united under one charter.

In 1716, the Company obtained from the sovereigns of India the famous firman or Indian charter, authorizing them to export or import free of all duty.

In 1741, the Company first commenced military interference in the affairs of India, in opposition to the French Company, who took the adverse side. Since then, the two nations have constantly waged war in that distant land, whenever a contest arose between them in Europe. France had a short interval of success in the war of 1740, was crushed in 1755, maintained an equality in 1779, and at length totally disappeared during the war of the Revolution.

The English East India Company now rules the whole peninsula, including a population of more than 60,000,000, of which 20,000,000 are its subjects, 20,000,000 its tributaries or allies, and the rest are involved in its system and obliged to go along with it.^[4]

Such is the famous East India Company, which at once acts the part of merchant and sovereign; whose wealth is derived both from commercial profits and territorial revenues. Hence it results that the merchant is frequently actuated by the ambition of the sovereign, while the sovereign plans, directs, and executes with the cupidity of the merchant. In these peculiar circumstances, in this two-fold character, we may trace the cause of the progress, measures, conflicts, contradictions, disorders, and clamours, that compose the history of this celebrated Company.

The English East India Company has long reigned absolute and independent. It was and still continues to be represented by a Court of Directors, chosen from among the proprietors. These Directors delegate and direct in India, by despatches, a regency or council, consisting of a Governor and some assessors, who represent and exercise the sovereign authority.

In 1767, the Crown for the first time put forward claims on the territory and revenues of India; but the Company purchased its relinquishment of them by a subsidy equivalent to ten or twelve millions of francs.

About the year 1773, the East India Company, finding its affairs extremely deranged, made application to Parliament, which took advantage of its embarrassment to secure its dependence. The Company’s possessions were subjected to new political, judicial, and financial regulations, which, however, produced no very satisfactory result. The Indian peninsula was thrown into the utmost disorder; and the establishment of a Supreme Court of Justice, operating as a rival to the Sovereign Council, and appointed for the purpose of introducing English laws in the country, particularly excited the dissatisfaction and alarm of the natives. The fury of parties, and their reciprocal accusations and complaints, have transmitted to us a picture of the odious measures, the boundless rapacity and atrocious tyranny of this stormy period, which is the least honourable in the history of the East India Company.

In 1783, with the view of providing a radical remedy for these evils, Mr. Fox, who was then Prime Minister, brought forward his famous Bill, the failure of which occasioned his resignation. Mr. Pitt, who had been the opponent of this Bill, in the following year introduced another, which laid the foundation of his celebrity, and which still continues to regulate the affairs of the East India Company. Fox’s Bill would, in fact, have been a judicial seizure; it would have placed all the Company’s property in the hands of a managing committee, who were to liquidate its debts, and dispose of all employments. The members of this Committee, appointed by the King or by Parliament, were to be irremoveable, and were to sit until they should have established the affairs of the Company on a better footing. A general outcry was raised against these propositions, which, it was said, would place important interests, vast patronage, and enormous influence, in the hands of a few individuals. It was said that the Bill was calculated to introduce a fourth power in the state, and to set up a rival to the Crown itself. Mr. Fox was even accused of a wish to establish himself permanently in office, by creating a sort of concealed sovereignty, superior to that of the King; for, Fox being at this time Minister, and having Parliament under his control, he would have appointed and ruled the proposed Committee. Through the influence of this Committee, he would have composed and governed Parliament, and with the aid of Parliament, he would have established and perpetuated the Committee; in short, there was no end to the power which he would thus have exercised. A violent clamour arose, and the King made the business a personal matter. He appealed to his own friends, to those individuals in the House of Peers who were sincerely attached to him, and regarded the measures proposed as an attack on his very existence. The Bill failed, and Fox quitted the ministry.

Pitt was more adroit, and assumed the appearance of greater moderation. In his Bill, he merely contented himself with placing the Company under a sort of guardianship; submitting all its operations to a Committee appointed to revise and counter-sign them. He left to the Company the power of nomination to all employments; but reserved to the Crown the appointment of the Governor General, and the veto on all other nominations. This Committee, which was appointed by the King, formed a new branch in the administration. Complaints were now raised against the vast increase of influence which this measure would give to the royal authority, and which, it was affirmed, would infallibly break the constitutional equilibrium. Fox had been reproached with having wished to keep this influence wholly apart from the King; and Pitt was accused of having placed it entirely in his hands. All that the one had desired to do for the people, it was said the other had done for the monarch. Indeed, these two distinct characters, these two opposite evils, constituted the whole difference between the two Bills, which produced a decisive battle between the Whigs and Tories. Mr. Pitt gained the victory, and the Tories triumphed.

The faults of Fox’s Bill still remain hypothetical, since they were never put to the test; but the evils that were predicted from Pitt’s measures have been formally fulfilled. The equilibrium of power has been broken, the true English constitution has ceased to exist, the royal authority, daily augmented, has encroached in every direction, and is now marching, unimpeded, on the high road, to arbitrary and absolute power.

The Ministers command in Parliament a majority, which they have themselves created, which perpetuates their power and legalizes their arbitrary measures. Thus, English liberty is daily more and more fettered by the very forms which were intended for its defence; and the future, instead of affording a prospect of remedy, appears to threaten greater misfortunes! How could Fox’s plan have produced more fatal results? For it may truly be said that all the great encroachments that have been made on the English constitution have been occasioned by the interests of India. Surely the weight which Fox wished to secure to the popular side could not have been more disastrous to the cause of liberty than that with which Pitt surcharged the royal prerogative!

Consequently, it is now often boldly asserted that Fox was in the right, that he was wiser, and could not have been so mischievous as his rival.

The names of Pitt and Fox having been thus introduced, the Emperor dwelt long on the characters, systems, and measures of those two celebrated statesmen; and concluded with the following remarks, which had already fallen from him on several previous occasions: “Pitt,” said he, “was the master of European policy; he held in his hand the moral fate of nations; but he made an ill use of his power. He kindled the fire of discord throughout the universe; and his name, like that of Erostratus, will be inscribed in history, amidst flames, lamentations, and tears!... The first sparks of our Revolution, then the resistance that was opposed to the national will, and, finally, the horrid crimes that ensued, all were his work. Twenty-five years of universal conflagration; the numerous coalitions that added fuel to the flame; the revolution and devastation of Europe; the bloodshed of nations; the frightful debt of England, by which all these horrors were maintained; the pestilential system of loans, by which the people of Europe are oppressed; the general discontent that now prevails;—all must be attributed to Pitt. Posterity will brand him as a scourge; and the man so lauded in his own time will hereafter be regarded as the genius of evil. Not that I consider him to have been really wicked, or doubt his having entertained the conviction that he was acting right. But St. Bartholomew had also its conscientious advocates; the Pope and Cardinals celebrated it by a “Whether it be the effect of admiration and gratitude, or the result of mere instinct and sympathy, Pitt is, and will continue to be, the idol of the European aristocracy. There was, indeed, a touch of the Sylla in his character. His system has kept the popular cause in check, and brought about the triumph of the patricians. As to Fox, one must not look for his model among the ancients. He is himself a model, and his principles will sooner or later rule the world.”

The Emperor said a great deal about Fox, and expressed the great attachment he entertained for him. He had had his bust put up at Malmaison, before he knew him personally. He concluded with a remark, which he used often to make, at different times, and in various ways: “Certainly,” said he, “the death of Fox was one of the fatalities of my career. Had his life been prolonged, affairs would have taken a totally different turn; the cause of the people would have triumphed, and we should have established a new order of things in Europe.”

Returning to the subject of the East India Company, the Emperor observed that the question respecting the comparative advantage of the monopoly of a company, or free trade for all, was an important subject of consideration. “A Company,” said he, “places great advantages in the hands of a few individuals, who may attend very well to their own interests, while they neglect those of the mass. Thus every company soon degenerates into an oligarchy: it is always the friend of power, to which it is ready to lend every assistance. In this point of view, companies were exclusively suited to old times and old systems. Free trade, on the contrary, is favourable to the interests of all classes; it excites the imagination and rouses the activity of a people; it is identical with equality, and naturally leads to independence. In this respect, it is most in unison with our modern system. After the treaty of Amiens, by which France regained her Indian possessions, I had this grand question thoroughly discussed before me, and at great length; I heard both statesmen and commercial men; and my final opinion was in favour of free trade, and against companies.”

The Emperor then discussed several points of political economy which are treated by Smith in his Wealth of Nations. He admitted that they were true in principle; but proved them to be false in application. Unfortunately, the scantiness of my notes here prevents me from entering into particulars.

“Formerly,” said he, “only one kind of property was known, that which consisted in landed possessions; afterwards, a second kind arose, that of industry or manufactures, which is now in opposition to the first; then arose a third, that which is derived from the burdens levied on the people, and which, distributed by the neutral and impartial hands of government, might obviate the evils of monopoly on the part of the two others, intervene between them, and prevent them from coming into actual conflict.” This great contest of modern times, he called the war of the fields against the factories, of the castles against the counting-houses.

“It is,” said he, “because men will not acknowledge this great revolution in property, because they persist in closing their eyes on these truths, that so many acts of folly are now committed, and that nations are exposed to so many disorders. The world has sustained a great shock, and it now seeks to return to a settled state. There,” said he, “is in two words, the Key to the universal agitation that at present prevails: the ship’s cargo has been shifted, her ballast has been removed from the stem to the stern; hence are produced those violent oscillations which may occasion her wreck in the first storm, if the crew persist in working the vessel according to the usual method, and without obtaining a new balance.”

This day has been rich in materials for my Journal. Besides the subjects to which I have already alluded, several others were introduced. When speaking of India and the English East India Company, the name of M. de Suffren was mentioned.

The Emperor had had no opportunity of forming a correct idea of the character of this officer: he had heard of his having rendered important services to his country and for that reason alone, he (Napoleon) had been very liberal to his family. The Emperor questioned me respecting Suffren. I had not known him personally, and therefore I could only report what I had heard of him from other persons in the navy. It was admitted that, since the time of Louis XIV., M. de Suffren was the only officer who bore a resemblance to the distinguished men of the brilliant period of our navy.

Suffren possessed genius, invention, ardour, ambition, and inflexible steadiness; he was one of those men whom Nature has fitted for any thing. I have heard very shrewd and sensible persons say that his death, in the year 1789, might have been looked upon as a national calamity; that, had he been admitted to the King’s Council in the critical moment, he might have brought matters to a very different result. Suffren, who was harsh, capricious, egotistical, and a very unpleasant companion, was loved by nobody, though he was valued and admired by all.

He was a man with whom no one could live on good terms. He was impatient of control, fond of condemning every thing, and, while he incessantly declaimed against the utility of tactics, he proved himself to be a perfect tactician. In short, he evinced all the irritability and restlessness of genius and ambition deprived of elbow-room.

On obtaining the command of the Indian squadron, he went to take leave of the King, and one of the officers of the palace could with difficulty open a passage for him through the crowd. “I thank you,” said he to the Usher, grunting and snorting in his usual way; “but when I come out, Sir, you shall see that I know how to clear the way for myself.” And he spoke truly.

On his arrival in India, he opened a new theatre for the arms of France, and performed prodigies, which perhaps have not been duly appreciated in Europe. He set on foot measures and plans of command hitherto unknown; taking every thing upon himself, hazarding all, inventing all, and foreseeing all. He broke and created his officers as he thought proper; fitted out and manned ships that had long since been condemned; and found a wintering station on the spot, when, according to the old routine, the ships would have been obliged to sail to the Isle of France, a distance of twelve or fifteen hundred leagues. Finally, he broke through all rules, approached the coast, took on board troops who had been fighting the old enemy, and, after they had assisted him in opposing the English squadron, he conveyed them back to their camp, to resume the contest by land. Thus the French flag assumed a superiority that disconcerted the enemy. “Oh,” exclaimed the Emperor, “why did not Suffren live till my time, or why did not I light on a man of his stamp? I would have made him our Nelson. I was constantly seeking for a man qualified to raise the character of the French navy; but I could never find one. There is in the navy a peculiarity, a technicality, that impeded all my conceptions. If I proposed a new idea, immediately Ganthaume, and the whole Marine Department, were up in arms against me.—‘Sire, that cannot be.‘—Why not?—‘Sire, the winds do not admit of it:’ then objections were started respecting calms and currents, and I was obliged to stop short. How is it possible to maintain a discussion with those whose language we do not comprehend? How often, in the Council of State, have I reproached naval officers with taking an undue advantage of this circumstance! To hear them talk, one might have been led to suppose that it was necessary to be born in the navy to know any thing about it. Yet I often told them that, had it been in my power to have performed a voyage to India with them, I should, on my return, have been as familiar with their profession as with the field of battle. But they could not credit this. They always repeated that no man could be a good sailor unless he were brought up to it from his cradle; and they at length prevailed on me to adopt a plan, about which I long hesitated, namely, the enrolment of several thousands of children from six to eight years of age.

“My resistance was vain; I was compelled to yield to the unanimous voice, while I assured those who urged me to this measure that I left all the responsibility with them. What was the result? It excited clamour and discontent on the part of the public, who turned the whole affair into ridicule, styling it the massacre of the innocents, &c. Subsequently, De Winter, Verhuel, all the great naval commanders of the north, and others, assured me that from eighteen to twenty (the age for the conscription), was early enough to begin to learn the duties of a sailor. The Danes and Swedes employ their soldiers in the navy. With the Russians, the fleet is but a portion of the army; which affords the invaluable advantage of keeping up a standing army, and for a twofold object.

“I had myself,” added he, “planned something of the kind, when I created my marines; but what obstacles had I to encounter; what prejudices had I to subdue; what perseverance was I obliged to exert, before I could succeed in clothing the sailors in uniform, forming them into regiments, and drilling them by military exercise! I was told that I should ruin all. And yet, can there be a greater advantage than for one country to possess both an army and a navy? The men, thus disciplined, were not worse sailors than the rest; while, at the same time, they were the best soldiers. They were, in case of need, prepared to serve as sailors, soldiers, artillerymen, pontooners, &c. If, instead of being thus opposed by obstacles, I had found in the navy a man capable of entering into my views, and promoting my ideas, what importance might we not have obtained! But, during my reign, I never found a naval officer who could depart from the old routine, and strike out a new course. I was much attached to the navy; I admired the courage and patriotism of our seamen; but I never found between them and me an intermediate agent, who could have brought them into operation in the way I wished.”

NAPOLEON’S IMPERIAL SYSTEM.—PREFECTS.—AUDITORS OF THE COUNCIL OF STATE.—THE EMPEROR’S MOTIVES IN GRANTING LUCRATIVE APPOINTMENTS.—HIS FUTURE INTENTIONS.

7th.—Speaking of his imperial system, Napoleon observed that it had been the means of creating the most compact government, establishing the most rapid circulation in all its parts, and calling forth the most nervous efforts that had ever been witnessed. “And nothing short of this,” said he, “would have enabled us to triumph over such numerous difficulties, and to achieve so many wonders. The organization of the Prefectures, their operations, and the results they produced, were admirable. One and the same impulse was simultaneously communicated to more than 40,000,000 of men; and, by the help of those centres of local activity, the movement was not less rapid and energetic at the extremities than in the heart itself.

“Foreigners who visited France, and who were capable of observing and discerning, were filled with astonishment. To this uniformity of action prevailing over an immense extent of territory, must be attributed those prodigious efforts and immense results, which were acknowledged to have been hitherto inconceivable.

“The Prefects, with their local authority and resources, were themselves Emperors on a small scale. As their whole power proceeded from the main spring, of which they were only the communicating channels; as their influence was not personal, but was derived from their temporary functions; as they had no connexion with the district over which their jurisdiction extended; they afforded all the advantages of the great absolute agents of the old system, without any of their disadvantages. It was necessary to create this power,” continued the Emperor, “for the force of circumstances had placed me in the situation of a dictator. It was requisite that all the filaments issuing from me should be in harmony with the first cause, or my system would have failed in its result. The network which I spread over the French territory required a violent tension and prodigious power of elasticity, in order to cause the terrible blows that were constantly levelled at us to rebound to a distance. Thus most of the springs of my machinery were merely institutions connected with dictatorship, and measures for warlike defence. When the moment should have arrived for slackening the reins, all my connecting filaments would have relaxed sympathetically, and we should then have proceeded to our peace establishment and local institutions. If we yet possessed none of these, it was because circumstances did not admit of them. Our immediate fall would have been the infallible consequence, had we been provided with them at the outset. It must not be supposed that the nation was all at once prepared to make a proper use of her liberty. Both with respect to education and character, the bulk of the people were imbued with too many of the prejudices of past times. We were daily improving, but we had yet much to acquire. At the time of the revolutionary explosion, the patriots, generally speaking, were such by nature and by instinct: with them patriotism was an innate sentiment, a passion, a phrensy. Hence the effervescence, the extravagance, the fury, which marked that period. But it is vain to attempt to naturalize and mature the modern system by blows or by leaps. It must be implanted with education, and must take root with reason and conviction; and this will infallibly take place in the course of time, because modern principles are founded on natural truths. But,” added he, “the men of our time were eager for the possession of power, which they exercised with a domineering spirit, to say no worse, while, on the other hand, they were ready to become the slaves of those who were above them!... We have always wavered between these two extremes. In the course of my journeys, I was often obliged to say to the high officers who were about my person:—Pray let the Prefect speak for himself. If I went to some subdivision of a department, I then found it necessary to say to the Prefect:—Let the sub-prefect or the mayor make his reply. So eager were all to eclipse each other, and so little did they perceive the advantage that might arise from direct communication with me! If I sent my great officers or ministers to preside at the electoral colleges, I always advised them not to get nominated as candidates for the Senate, as their seats were secured to them by other means, and I wished that they should resign the honour of the nomination to the principal individuals of the provinces: but they never conformed with my wishes.”

This reminded me of a misunderstanding that once took place, between the Emperor and the Minister DecrÈsDecrÈs, on the subject here alluded to. The Emperor having expressed displeasure at the nomination of the minister:—“Sire,” replied the latter, “your influence is more powerful than your will. I in vain resisted, and assured them that you wished these nominations to be made among themselves. They insisted on shewing deference to your choice, and if you send me back, I shall only be nominated over again.”

“I granted,” said Napoleon, “enormous salaries to Prefects and others; but, with regard to my liberality on this head, it is necessary to distinguish between what was systematic and what was incidental. The latter forced me to grant lucrative appointments; the former would ultimately have enabled me to obtain gratuitous services. At the first outset, when the object was to conciliate individuals, and to re-establish some kind of society and morality, liberal salaries, absolute fortunes, were indispensable; but, the result being obtained, and in the course of time the natural order of things being restored, my intention, on the contrary, would have been to render almost all high public duties gratuitous. I would have discarded those needy individuals who cannot be their own masters, and whose urgent wants engender political immorality. I would have wrought such a change in opinion that public posts should have been sought after for the mere honour of filling them. The functions of magistrate or justice of the peace would have been discharged by men of fortune, who, being guided solely by duty, philanthropy, and honourable ambition, would have afforded the surest pledge of independence. It is this that constitutes the dignity and majesty of a nation, that exalts her character, and establishes public morals. Such a change had become indispensable in France, and the dislike of getting into place might have been considered the forerunner of our return to political morality. I have been informed that the mania of place-hunting has crossed the sea, and that the contagion has been communicated to our neighbours. The English of former days were as much superior to this kind of meanness as the people of the United States now are. The love of place is the greatest check to public morals. A man who solicits a public post feels his independence sold beforehand. In England, the greatest families, the whole peerage, disdain not to hunt after places. Their excuse is that the enormous burdens of taxation deprive them of the means of living without additions to their income. Pitiful pretence! It is because their principles are more decayed than their fortunes. When people of a certain rank stoop to solicit public posts for the sake of emolument, there is an end to all independence and dignity of national character. In France, the shocks and commotions of our Revolution might have afforded an apology for such conduct. All had been unsettled, and all felt the necessity of re-establishing themselves. To promote this object, with the least possible offence to delicacy of feeling, I was induced to attach considerable emolument and high honour to all public posts. But, in the course of time, I intended to work a change by the mere force of opinion. And this was by no means impossible. Every thing must yield to the influence of power, when it is directed to objects truly just, honourable, and great.

“I was preparing a happy reign for my son. For his sake I was rearing in the new school, the numerous class of auditors of the Council of State. Their education being completed, they would, on attaining the proper age, have filled all the public posts in the Empire; thus confirmed in modern principles, and improved by the example of their precursors. They would all have been twelve or fifteen years older than my son, who would by this means have been placed between two generations and all their advantages: maturity, experience and prudence above him; youth, promptitude, and activity below him.”

Here I could not refrain from expressing my astonishment that the Emperor should never have thrown out a hint of the grand and important objects which he had in contemplation. “What would have been the use of promulgating my intentions,” said he; “I should have been styled a quack, accused of insinuation and subtilty, and have fallen into discredit. Situated as I was, deprived of hereditary authority, and of the illusion called legitimacy, I was compelled to avoid entering the lists with my opponents; I was obliged to be bold, imperious, and decisive. You have told me that in your Faubourg they used to say, Why is he not legitimate? If I had been so, I certainly could not have done more than I did; but my conduct might have appeared more amiable.”

LA VENDÉE.—CHARETTE.—LAMARQUE.—TRAGEDIES OF ÆSCHYLUS AND SOPHOCLES.—REAL TRAGEDIES AMONG THE ROMANS.—SENECA’S MEDEA.—SINGULAR FACT.

8th—To-day the Emperor dictated to one of his suite, by which we were very much gratified, for it was a proof that he felt himself better.

I attended him after dinner. The exertion of dictating seemed to have roused his spirits. He was in a very talkative mood; and we conversed together, walking backward and forward in his chamber. The troubles of La VendÉe, and the men who had been distinguished in them, formed the principal topics of discourse.

Charette was the only individual to whom the Emperor attached particular importance. “I have read a history of La VendÉe,” said he, “and if the details and portraits were correct, Charette was the only great character, the true hero, of that remarkable episode of our Revolution, which, if it presented great misfortunes, at least did not sacrifice our glory. In the wars of La VendÉe, Frenchmen destroyed each other; but they did not degrade themselves: they received aid from foreigners; but they did not stoop to the disgrace of marching under their banners, and receiving daily pay for merely executing their commands. Yes,” continued he, “Charette impressed me with the idea of a great character. I observed that he on several occasions acted with uncommon energy and intrepidity. He betrayed genius.” I mentioned that I had known Charette very well in my youth; had been in the marines together at Brest, and for a long time we shared the same chamber, and messed at the same table. The brilliant career and exploits of Charette very much astonished all who had formerly been acquainted with him. We looked upon him as a common-place sort of man, destitute of information, ill-tempered, and extremely indolent; and we all, with one accord, pronounced him to belong to the class of insignificant beings. It is true that, when he began to rise into celebrity, we recollected a circumstance which certainly indicated decision of character. When Charette was first called into service, during the American war, and while yet a mere youth, he sailed from Brest in a cutter during the winter. The cutter lost her mast; and to a vessel of that class such an accident was equivalent to certain destruction. The weather was very stormy. Death seemed inevitable; and the sailors, throwing themselves on their knees, lost all presence of mind, and refused to make any effort to save themselves. Charette, notwithstanding his extreme youth, killed one of the men, in order to compel the rest to make the necessary exertions. This dreadful example had the desired effect, and the vessel was saved. “You see,” said the Emperor, “true decision of character always develops itself in critical circumstances. Here was the spark that distinguished the hero of La VendÉe. Men’s dispositions are often misunderstood. There are sleepers whose waking is terrible. Kleber was an habitual slumberer; but, at the needful moment, he never failed to awake, a lion.”

I added that I had often heard Charette relate that, at a particular moment of extreme danger, the whole crew of the cutter, by a spontaneous impulse, made a vow to go in their shirts and barefooted, to carry a taper to our Lady of Recouvrance, at Brest, if she would vouchsafe to ensure their safety. “And you may believe it or not as you please,” added Charette with great simplicity: “but the fact is, they had no sooner uttered their prayer than the wind suddenly abated, and from that moment we were inspired with the hope of preservation.” On their return to land, the sailors, headed by their officers, devoutly fulfilled their vow. This was not the only miraculous circumstance connected with the little cutter. It was in the month of December, and the night was long and dark. The vessel had got among reefs, and, without mast or any nautical aid, she floated at random, and the crew had resigned themselves to the will of fate, when they unexpectedly heard the ringing of a bell. They sounded, and, finding but little depth of water, they cast anchor. What was their surprise and joy, when they found themselves, at day-break, at the mouth of the river of Landernau! The bell they had heard was that of the neighbouring parish church. The cutter had miraculously escaped the numerous rocks that are scattered about the entrance of Brest: she had been carried through the narrow inlet to the port, had passed three or four hundred ships that were lying in the roads, and had at length found a shelter precisely at the mouth of a river, in a calm and retired spot. “This,” said the Emperor, “shews the difference between the blindfold efforts of man, and the certain course of nature. That at which you express so much surprise must necessarily have happened. It is very probable that, with the full power of exerting the utmost skill, the confusion and errors of the moment would have occasioned the wreck of the vessel; whereas, in spite of so many adverse chances, nature saved her. She was borne onward by the tide; the force of the current carried her precisely through the middle of each channel, so that she could not possibly have been lost.”

Again alluding to the war of La VendÉe, the Emperor mentioned that he had been withdrawn from the army of the Alps, for the purpose of being transferred to that of La VendÉe; but that he preferred resigning his commission to entering a service where he conceived he should only be concurring in mischief, without the probability of obtaining any personal benefit. He said that one of the first acts of his Consulate had been to quell the troubles in La VendÉe. He did much for that unfortunate department, the inhabitants of which were very grateful to him; and when he passed through it, even the priests appeared to be sincerely favourable to him. “Thus,” continued the Emperor, “the late insurrections did not present the same character as the first. Their prominent feature was not blind fanaticism, but merely passive obedience to a ruling aristocracy. Be this as it may, Lamarque, whom I sent to La VendÉe at the height of the crisis, performed wonders, and even surpassed my hopes.” What might not have been his influence in the great contest; for the most distinguished chiefs of La VendÉe, those who are doubtless at this moment enjoying the favours of the Court, acknowledged, through Lamarque, Napoleon as Emperor, even after Waterloo, even after his abdication! Was it that Lamarque was ignorant of the real state of things, or was it merely a whim on the partpart of the conqueror? At all events, Lamarque is in exile: he is one of the thirty-eight; “because it is easier to proscribe than to conquer.”

The Emperor dined with us to-day, for the first time since his illness, that is to say, for the space of sixteen days. Our dinner was therefore a sort of festival: but we could not help remarking, with regret, the change in the Emperor’s countenance, which presented obvious traces of the ill effects of his long confinement.

After dinner we resumed our readings, which had been so long suspended. The Emperor read the Agamemnon of Æschylus, which he very much admired for its great force and simplicity. We were particularly struck with the graduation of terror which characterizes the productions of this father of tragedy. It was observed that this was the first spark to which the light of the modern drama may be traced.

Agamemnon being ended, the Emperor asked for the Œdipus of Sophocles, which also interested us exceedingly: and the Emperor expressed his regret at not having had it performed at St. Cloud. Talma had always opposed the idea; but the Emperor was sorry that he had relinquished it. “Not,” said he, “that I wished to correct our drama by antique models. Heaven forbid! But I merely wished to have an opportunity of judging how far ancient composition would have harmonized with modern notions.” He said he was convinced that such a performance would have afforded pleasure; and he made several remarks on the impression that was likely to be produced on modern taste by the Greek CoryphÆus chorusses, &c.

He next turned to Voltaire’s Œdipus, on which he bestowed high commendation. This piece, he said, contained the finest scene in the French Drama. As to its faults, the absurd passion of Philoctetes, for example, they must not, he said, be attributed to the poet, but to the manners of the age, and the great actresses of the day, to whose laws a dramatic writer is obliged to submit. This commendation of Voltaire rather surprised us: it was something novel and singular in the mouth of the Emperor.

At eleven o’clock, after the Emperor had retired to bed, he sent for me, and resumed his conversation on the ancient and modern drama; on which he made many curious remarks. In the first place, he expressed his surprise that the Romans should have had no tragedies; but then again he observed that tragedy, in dramatic representation, would have been ill calculated to rouse the feelings of the Romans, since they performed real tragedy in their circuses. “The combats of the gladiators,” said he, “the sight of men consigned to the fury of wild beasts, were far more terrible than all our dramatic horrors put together. These, in fact, were the only tragedies suited to the iron nerves of the Romans.”

However, it was observed that the Romans possessed some dramatic essays, produced by Seneca. By the by, it is a curious fact, that in Seneca’s Medea, the chorus distinctly predicts the discovery of America, which took place fourteen hundred years after that drama was written. In the passage here alluded to, it is said, “A new Tiphys, a son of the earth, will, in ages to come, discover remote regions towards the west, and Thule will no longer be the extremity of the universe.”^[5]

STORY.—MADAME R—-- DE ST. J—-- D’A—-- —THE TWO EMPRESSES.—JOSEPHINE’S EXTRAVAGANCE.—CHARACTERISTIC ANECDOTES OF THE EMPEROR.

9th.—To-day the Emperor felt himself infinitely better. He was surrounded by all his suite, and he began to talk of the prodigies of his early career, which, he said, must have produced a great impression in the world. “So great an impression,” said an individual present, “that some were induced to regard them as supernatural.” On this subject, the following anecdote was related: At the time of the explosion of the infernal machine, a person, who had just heard the news, called at a house in a certain quarter of the capital, and, hastily entering the drawing-room, in which a party was assembled, he informed the company that Napoleon was no more; and after giving an account of the event that had just taken place, he concluded by saying: “He is fairly blown up.” “He blown up!” exclaimed an old Austrian officer, who had eagerly listened to all that was said, and who had been a witness to many of the dangers which the young General of the army of Italy had so miraculously escaped; “he blown up! Ah! you know nothing about him. I venture to say that he is, at this very moment, as well as any of us. I know him and all his tricks of old!”

The name of Madame R—-- de St. J—-- d’A—-- having been mentioned, and some one having remarked to the Emperor how much attachment she had evinced for him during his stay at the Isle of Elba. “How! she?” exclaimed the Emperor, with mingled surprise and satisfaction.—“Yes, Sire.”—“Poor lady!” said he, in a tone of deep regret; “and yet how ill I treated her! Well! this at least repays me for the ingratitude of those renegades, on whom I lavished so many favours....” Then, after a few moments’moments’ silence, he said, significantly, “It is very certain that one can never know people’s characters and sentiments until after great trials.“

At dinner, the Emperor was very good humoured and cheerful. He congratulated himself on having got through his late illness, without having recourse to medicine, without paying tribute to the Doctor. At this, he said, the latter had been very much vexed. He would have been content with ever so little, with the slightest acknowledgment; he only asked for compliance with the form, like a priest in confession. The Emperor laughed, and added, that, out of mere complaisance, he had made trial of a gargle, but that its strong acidity had disagreed with him. This led him to observe that mild medicines were best suited to his constitution. “Gentle remedies, whether physical or moral,” said he, “are the only ones that take effect on me.”

In the course of conversation, the Emperor spoke of the Empresses Josephine and Maria Louisa, of whom he related some very interesting details, and concluded with his usual observation, that the one was the model of the graces, with all their fascinations; and the other the emblem of innocence, with all its charms.

The Emperor mentioned that Malmaison had cost about three or four hundred thousand francs: that is to say, all that he was at that time possessed of. He then calculated the amount of the sums which the Empress Josephine must have received from him: and added that, with a little order and regularity, she might, probably, have left behind her fifty or sixty million francs. “Her extravagance,” said the Emperor, “vexed me beyond measure. Calculator as I am, I would, of course, rather have given away a million of francs than have seen a hundred thousand squandered away.” He informed us that, having one day unexpectedly broken in upon Josephine’s morning circle, he found a celebrated milliner, whom he had expressly forbidden to go near the Empress, as she was ruining her by extravagant demands. “My unlooked for entrance occasioned great dismay in the academic sitting. I gave some orders unperceived, and on the lady’s departure, she was seized and carried to BicÈtre. A great outcry was raised among the higher circles in Paris; it was said that my conduct was disgraceful. It soon became the fashion to visit the milliner in her confinement, and there was daily a file of carriages at the gate of the prison. The police informed me of these facts. All the better, said I; but I hope she is not treated with severity; not confined in a dungeon?—‘No, Sire, she has a suite of apartments, and a drawing room.’ Oh, well! let her be. If this measure is pronounced to be tyrannical, so much the better; it will be a diapason stroke for a great many others. Very little will serve to shew that I can do more.” He also mentioned a celebrated man-milliner, who, he remarked, was the most insolent fellow he had ever met with in the whole course of his life. “I was one day,” said the Emperor, “speaking to him respecting a When the Emperor had retired to his chamber, he sent for me, and after he had gone to bed, he continued to converse very cheerfully, on various subjects. He said he found himself much better, and that he felt a pleasure in chatting. However, he was very much troubled with cough, and this had forced him to rise from table earlier than he otherwise would have done. “I unthinkingly took too much snuff,” said he, “my attention having been absorbed in the conversation of the moment. In such a case you should always take away my snuff-box: that is the way to serve those one loves.”

WAR ON HIGH ROADS.—DUMOURIEZ MORE DARING THAN NAPOLEON.—PRINCESS CHARLOTTE OF WALES AND THE PRINCE OF SAXE COBOURG.

10th.—For some days past, the Emperor has been reading works on war, fortifications, artillery, &c. He has examined Vauban, an account of Campaigns during the Revolution, Gassendi’s Dictionary, and Guibert’s Tactics; with all of which he is much pleased. These subjects have led him to speak of several Generals who have already been frequently noticed in the course of this Journal. “They could only carry on war on high roads,” said he, “and within range of cannon, when their field of battle should have extended over a whole country.”

During dinner, he spoke of the Campaign of Dumouriez in Champagne, which he had just been reading. He thought little of the Duke of Brunswick, who with a plan of offensive operations, had advanced only eighteen leagues in forty days. But, on the other hand, he very much blamed Dumouriez, whose position, he said, was far too hazardous. “For me, this is saying a great deal,” added he; “for I consider myself to have been the most venturous man in war that perhaps ever lived. Yet I should certainly have been afraid to keep the position that Dumouriez retained; so numerous were the dangers it presented. I could only explain his manoeuvre, on the supposition that he could not venture to retire; he would probably have encountered greater risks in retreating than in staying where he was. Wellington was placed in the same situation at Waterloo.

“The French are the bravest troops in the world. They will fight in whatever position they may be attacked; but they cannot retreat before a victorious enemy. If they experience the least check, they lose all presence of mind and discipline; they slip through your fingers, as it were. Dumouriez, I suppose, calculated on this; or perhaps he might have been influenced by some secret negotiation of which we are ignorant.”

The newspapers, which we perused to-day, mentioned the marriage of Prince Leopold of Saxe Coburg to the Princess Charlotte of Wales.

“Prince Leopold,” said the Emperor, “once had a chance of becoming my aid-de-camp. He solicited the appointment, and I don’t know what prevented his obtaining it. However, it was lucky for him that his application proved unsuccessful: had it been otherwise, his present marriage would never have taken place. Who can pretend to say what is fortunate or unfortunate in the events of human life!...”

Princess Charlotte of Wales next became the subject of conversation. Some one observed that she was exceedingly popular in England, and that she had given many unequivocal proofs of energy of character. The English were of opinion that she would be another Elizabeth, and she herself seemed to cherish that idea. The person who made these remarks said that he happened to be in London in 1814, at the time when the young Princess, indignant at the ill treatment of her mother, slipped away from the Prince Regent’s, and stepping into the first hackney coach she met with in the street, drove to the residence of her mother, to whom she was fondly attached. On this occasion the natural severity of the English relaxed into indulgence; and all were inclined to pardon the breach of decorum, in consideration of the amiable sentiment that had occasioned it. The young Princess would not leave her mother, until the Duke of York, or another of her uncles, and, as it was said, the Lord Chancellor, prevailed on her to go back to her father’s, by assuring her that to persist in the course she had adopted would endanger her mother’s happiness, perhaps, even her life.

Princess Charlotte had already given a proof of decision of character, in refusing to marry the Prince of Orange. Her reason for rejecting this alliance was that it would have obliged her occasionally to reside out of England; and this truly national sentiment contributed to render her the more dear to the English people.

The English who are at St. Helena assure us that her union with the Prince of Saxe Coburg was perfectly in unison with her own wishes, and that she publicly declared she looked forward to happiness, because in her choice she had been guided purely by sentiment. She was said to be much attached to Prince Leopold.—“I readily believe it,” said the Emperor: “I recollect him very well; and when he appeared at the Tuileries, I thought him one of the handsomest young men I ever saw.” Within these few days, the English who are here have related an incident which they regard as a proof of high spirit and dignity of feeling on the part of their future Queen. Previously to her marriage, one of the Ministers waited upon her for the purpose of settling some domestic details; and, having submitted to her some propositions which she did not conceive to be sufficiently liberal,—“My Lord,” said she, “I am heiress to the throne of Great Britain; and my mind has risen to a level with the exalted station I am destined to fill. Therefore, I must be provided for accordingly. Do not imagine that, in marrying Prince Leopold, I ever can or will sink to the rank of Mistress Coburg. Entertain no such idea, I beg of you.”

The young Princess is the idol of the English people, who look forward to her reign as affording the prospect of future happiness.

The Emperor, again alluding to Prince Leopold, and the chance he had of becoming his aide-de-camp, said:—“A crowd of German Princes solicited the same favour. When I established the Confederation of the Rhine, the Sovereigns who were included in it took it for granted that I intended to revive in my person the etiquette and forms of the Holy Roman Empire; and all, even Kings themselves, were eager to join my retinue. One wished to be appointed my cup-bearer, another my grand butler, &c. At this period, the Princes of Germany literally invaded the Tuileries; they crowded the saloons, and modestly mingled with the officers of my household. It was the same with the Italians, Spaniards, and Portuguese; in short, all the most exalted personages in Europe were assembled at the Tuileries. The fact is,” added the Emperor, “that, during my reign, Paris was the queen of nations and the French the first nation in the world!...”

REMARKS ON SEVERAL IMPORTANT SUBJECTS.—NAPOLEON’S DEBUT IN DIPLOMACY.—CONCENTRATION OF THE NATIONS OF EUROPE.—CONQUEST OF SPAIN.—DANGER OF RUSSIA.—BERNADOTTE.

11th.—The Emperor did not leave his chamber to-day. I spent nearly the whole of the day with him; for I only left him to go to dinner.

The conversations of the day were diffuse and interesting, for the Emperor was exceedingly chatty. He discussed numerous subjects, perfectly heterogeneous in their nature, though they were naturally introduced one by another. His conversation abounded with ideas and facts totally new to me. But the number and importance of the Emperor’s remarks rendered it impossible for me to seize them all. My eagerness to note down the past observation sometimes occasioned the present one to escape me; but, for this very reason, I can, with the greater confidence, vouch for the accuracy of what I have preserved.

Speaking of the elements of society, the Emperor said: “Democracy may be furious; but it has some heart, it may be moved. As to aristocracy, it is always cold and unforgiving.”

At another time, after some preliminary observations, he said;—“All human institutions present two opposite points of view; all have their advantages and disadvantages: for example, both republican and monarchical government may be defended and opposed. Doubtless, it is easy to prove in theory that both are equally good, and very good; but this is not quite so easy in application.” He remarked that the extreme boundary of the government of many was anarchy; and that the extreme boundary of the government of a single one was despotism; that a just medium between both was unquestionably the best, were it in the power of wisdom steadily to pursue such a course. He added, these truths had been repeated until they had become absolutely commonplace, without producing any good result; that on this subject many volumes had been written, and many would still be written without effect.

The Emperor at another moment said: “Despotism is not absolute; but merely relative. A man cannot with impunity absorb all power within himself. If a Sultan strikes off the heads of his subjects, according to the whim of the moment, he runs the risk of losing his own by the same sort of caprice. Excess will always incline either to one side or the other. What the sea gains by encroachment in one direction, it loses elsewhere. When I was in Egypt, a conqueror, an absolute ruler and master, dictating laws to the people by mere orders of the day, I could not have presumed to search the houses, and it would have been out of my power to prevent the inhabitants from speaking freely in their coffee-houses, where liberty and independence prevailed even in a greater degree than in Paris. The people yielded like slaves in all other places; but they resolved to enjoy full liberty in their coffee-houses, which were absolutely the citadels of freedom, the bazaars of public opinion. Here they loudly declaimed, and passed judgment, on the measures of the day: it would have been impossible to close their mouths. If I happened to enter these places, all bowed before me, it is true; but this was a mark of esteem to me personally. No such homage was shewn to any lieutenants.

“Be this as it may,” said he, alluding to another topic, “France, when subject to the opposing influences of many, was on the point of falling beneath the blows of combined Europe: but she placed the helm in the hands of one, and immediately the First Consul laid down the law to Europe. Such is the power of unity and concentration; these are facts which must be convincing to the meanest understandings.

“It was curious to observe that the old cabinets of Europe were unable to conceive the importance of this change, and that they continued to treat with unity and concentration, in the same manner as they had done with the multitude and dispersion. It is not less remarkable that the Emperor Paul, who was looked upon as a madman, was the first to appreciate this difference; while the English Ministers, reputed to be so skilful and experienced, were the very last. ‘I set aside the abstractions of your Revolution,’ Paul wrote to me, ‘I confine myself to a fact; that is sufficient for me: in my eyes you are a government, and I address myself to you, because we can understand each other, and I can treat with you.’

“With regard to the English Ministry, I was ever obliged to conquer and force to peace, and absolutely to detach England from the rest of Europe, before I could make them to listen to me; and even when they opened negotiations with me, they drawled on in the ruts of the old routine. They tried to divert my attention by delays, protocols, forms, ceremonies, precedents, and I know not what. But I felt myself so powerful that I could afford to laugh at all this!

“A new state of things required a new line of conduct; but the English Ministers seemed to have no idea of the age, or of the men and things belonging to it. My manner quite disconcerted them. I commenced in diplomacy, as I had already commenced in arms. These are my propositions, said I, to the English Ministry:—we are masters of Holland and Switzerland; but I am ready to resign both, in return for the restitutions that you make to us or our allies. We are also masters of Italy, of which I will surrender one portion and retain the other, for the purpose of guaranteeing the existence of all. These are my bases; build upon them as much as you please; I care not for that; but the object and result must remain as I have specified. I will not yield a hair’s breadth of my determination. My object is not to purchase concessions from you; but to enter into reasonable, honourable, and lasting engagements. This is the circle I have traced out. It appears to me that you have formed no notion of our respective situations or resources. I fear not your refusal, your efforts, or any difficulties you may throw in my way. I have a strong arm, and I only want a weight to lift.

“This unusual language,” continued the Emperor, “produced the desired effect. In the negotiations at Amiens, they had intended merely to divert us; but they now began to treat seriously. Not knowing at what point I was vulnerable, they offered to make me King of France. This was a good idea! King, by the grace of foreigners, when I was already Sovereign by the will of the people!...

“Such was the ascendency I had acquired that, even while the negotiations were pending, I caused the Italians to assign to me the Presidency of their Republic; and this circumstance, which, in the ordinary course of European diplomacy, would naturally have created so many obstacles, occasioned no interruption of the proceedings. Matters were brought to a conclusion; and I gained my point by plain dealing, better than if I had fallen into all the usual diplomatic subtleties. Many libellous pamphlets, and manifestoes of no better character, accused me of perfidy, and of breach of faith in my negotiations; but I never merited these charges, which, on the contrary, might always have been justly applied to the other cabinets of Europe.

“At Amiens, I sincerely thought that the fate of France and Europe, and my own destiny, were permanently fixed; I hoped that war was at an end. However, the English Cabinet again kindled the flame. England is alone responsible for all the miseries by which Europe has since been afflicted. For my part, I intended to have devoted myself wholly to the internal interests of France; and I am confident that I should have wrought miracles. I should have lost nothing in the scale of glory; and I should have gained much in the scale of happiness. I should then have achieved the moral conquest of Europe, which I was afterwards on the point of accomplishing by force of arms. Of how much glory was I thus deprived!

“My enemies always spoke of my love of war; but was I not constantly engaged in self-defence? After every victory I gained, did I not immediately make proposals for peace?

“The truth is that I never was master of my own actions. I never was entirely myself. I might have conceived many plans; but I never had it in my power to execute any. I held the helm with a vigorous hand; but the fury of the waves was greater than any force that I could exert in resisting them; and I prudently yielded, rather than incur the risk of sinking through stubborn opposition. I never was truly my own master; but was always controlled by circumstances. Thus, at the commencement of my rise, during the Consulate, my sincere friends and warm partisans frequently asked me, with the best intentions, and as a guide for their own conduct, what point I was driving at? and I always answered that I did not know. They were surprised, probably dissatisfied, and yet I spoke the truth. Subsequently, during the Empire, when there was less familiarity, many faces seemed to put the same question to me; and I might still have given the same reply. In fact, I was not master of my actions, because I was not fool enough to attempt to twist events into conformity with my system. On the contrary, I moulded my system according to the unforeseen succession of events. This often appeared like unsteadiness and inconsistency, and of these faults I was sometimes unjustly accused.”

After alluding to some other subjects, the Emperor said, “One of my great plans was the re-uniting, the concentration, of those same geographical nations which have been separated and parcelled out by revolution and policy. There are in Europe, dispersed, it is true, upwards of thirty millions of French, fifteen millions of Spaniards, fifteen millions of Italians, and thirty millions of Germans; and it was my intention to incorporate these people each into one nation. It would have been a noble thing to have advanced into posterity with such a train, and attended by the blessings of future ages. I felt myself worthy of this glory!

“After this summary simplification, it would have been possible to indulge the chimera of the “The concentration of the thirty or forty millions of Frenchmen was completed and perfected; and that of the fifteen millions of Spaniards was nearly accomplished; for nothing is more common than to convert accident into principle. Because I did not subdue the Spaniards, it will henceforth be argued that they were invincible. But the fact is that they were actually conquered, and at the very moment when they escaped me, the Cortes of Cadiz were secretly in treaty with me. They were not delivered either by their own resistance or the efforts of the English, but by the reverses which I sustained at distant points; and, above all, by the error I committed in removing with all my whole forces to the distance of a thousand leagues from them, and in having perished there; for nobody can deny that if, as soon as I entered that country, Austria had not declared war against me, but had left me four months longer quietly in Spain,^[6] the business would have been finished there; the Spanish Government would have been consolidated; the public mind would have been tranquillized; the different parties would have rallied. Three or four years would have restored the Spaniards to profound peace and brilliant prosperity: they would have become a compact nation, and I should have well deserved their gratitude; for I should have saved them from the tyranny by which they are now oppressed, and the terrible agitations that await them.

“With regard to the fifteen millions of Italians, their concentration was already far advanced: it only wanted maturity. The people were daily becoming more firmly established in the unity of principles and legislation; and also in the unity of thought and feeling, that certain and infallible cement of human concentration. The union of Piedmont with France, and the junction of Parma, Tuscany and Rome, were, in my mind, but temporary measures, intended merely to guarantee and promote the national education of the Italians.^[7] You may judge of the correctness of my views, and of the influence of common laws. The portions of Italy that had been united to France, though that union might have been regarded as the insult of conquest on our part, were, in spite of their Italian patriotism, the very parts that continued by far the most attached to us. Now that they are restored to themselves, they conceive that they have been invaded and disinherited; and so they certainly have been!...

“All the South of Europe, therefore, would soon have been rendered compact in point of locality, views, opinions, sentiments, and interests. In this state of things, what would have been the weight of all the nations of the north? What human efforts could have broken through so strong a barrier?

“The concentration of the Germans must have been effected more gradually; and therefore I had done no more than simplify their monstrous complication. Not that they were unprepared for concentralization; on the contrary, they were too well prepared for it, and they might have blindly risen in re-action against us, before they had comprehended our designs. How happens it that no German Prince has yet formed a just notion of the spirit of his nation, and turned it to good account? Certainly, if heaven had made me a Prince of Germany, amidst the many critical events of our times, I should, infallibly, have governed the thirty millions of Germans united; and, from what I know of them, I think I may venture to affirm that, if they had once elected and proclaimed me, they would not have forsaken me, and I should never have been at St. Helena.”

Then, after some melancholy details and comparisons, he thus resumed: “At all events, this concentration will be brought about, sooner or later, by the very force of events. The impulse is given; and I think that, since my fall and the destruction of my system, no grand equilibrium can possibly be established in Europe, except by the concentration and confederation of the principal nations. The sovereign who, in the first great conflict, shall sincerely embrace the cause of the people, will find himself at the head of all Europe, and may attempt whatever he pleases.

“It will perhaps be asked why I did not suffer these ideas to transpire? why I did not submit them to public discussion; since they would, doubtless, have become popular, and popularity would have been an immense re-inforcement to me? My answer is, that malevolence is ever more active than good intention; that, at the present day, the power of wit overrules good sense, and obscures at pleasure the most luminous points; and that, to have submitted these important subjects to public discussion would have been to consign them to the mercy of party-spirit, passion, intrigue, and gossiping, while the infallible result would have been discredit and opposition. I conceived, therefore, that secrecy was the most advisable course. I surrounded myself with that halo of mystery which pleases and interests the multitude; gives birth to speculations, which occupy the public mind; and, finally, affords opportunities for those sudden and brilliant disclosures, which exercise such important influence. It was this very principle that accelerated my unfortunate march to Moscow. Had I been more deliberate, I might have averted every evil; but I could not delay and afford time for comment. With my career already traced out, with my ideas formed for the future, it was necessary that my movement and my success should seem, as it were, supernatural.” The Emperor here adverted to the Russian expedition, repeating many of the observations which I have already recorded elsewhere. I now note down only what I conceive to be new.

“I will name another occasion,” said he, “on which accident was taken for principle. I failed in my expedition against the Russians; and they, therefore, consider themselves invincible. But can any thing be more erroneous? Ask men of sense and reflection among them! Ask Alexander himself, and let him recollect the opinions he entertained at the time! Was I defeated by the efforts of the Russians? No! my failure must be attributed to pure accident, to absolute fatality. First a capital was burnt to the ground, in spite of its inhabitants and through foreign intrigues, and in defiance of its inhabitants; then winter set in with such unusual suddenness and severity that it was regarded as a kind of phenomenon. To these disasters must be added a mass of false reports, silly intrigues, treachery, stupidity, and, in short, many things that will perhaps one day come to light, and which will excuse or justify the two great errors I committed in diplomacy and war; namely, to have undertaken such an enterprise, leaving on my flanks, which soon became my rear, two cabinets of which I was not master, and two allied armies, which, on the least check would become my enemies. But to come to a conclusion, and to annul with a word every charge that can be brought against me, I may say that this famous war, this bold enterprise, was perfectly involuntary on my part. I did not wish to fight; neither did Alexander;—but being once in presence, circumstances urged us on, and fate accomplished the rest.”

After a few moments’ silence, and as if waking from a reverie, the Emperor added:—“A Frenchman had in his hands the fate of the world! If he had possessed judgment and spirit equal to the exalted situation in which he was placed, if he had been a good Swede as he pretended to be, he might have restored the glory and power of his adoptive country, have retaken Finland, and arrived at St. Petersburgh before I reached Moscow. But he was swayed by personal considerations, silly vanity, and all sorts of mean passions. His head was turned, when he saw that he, an old Jacobin, was courted and flattered by legitimates; when he found himself holding political and friendly conferences face to face with an Emperor of all the Russias, who took great pains to cajole him. It is affirmed that hints were even thrown out to him of the possibility of his obtaining the hand of one of the sisters of the Russian Emperor, by divorcing his wife; and, in a letter addressed to him by a French Prince, the writer remarked, with complacency, that Bearn was the cradle of both their houses! The house of Bernadotte forsooth!

“In his intoxication, he sacrificed both his new and his mother country, his own glory, his true power, the cause of the people, and the welfare of Europe! For this he will pay dearly! No sooner had he accomplished all that was expected of him than he began to feel what awaited him. It is said that he has repented of his conduct; but he has not yet expiated it. He is now the only upstart sovereign in Europe. The Scandal cannot remain unpunished; it would be too dangerous an example.”

THE EMPEROR HAS BUT LITTLE CONFIDENCE IN THE ISSUE OF 1815.—THEMISTOCLES.—IN THE CRISIS OF 1814, NAPOLEON HIMSELF MOMENTARILY ENTERTAINED A THOUGHT OF RESTORING THE BOURBONS.—BARON FAIN’S MANUSCRIPT OF 1814.—THE ABDICATION OF FONTAINEBLEAU, &C.

12th.—The Emperor, adverting to his return from the Island of Elba and his second fall at Waterloo, made some remarkable observations on both these subjects. “It is very certain,” said he, “that, during the events of 1815, I relinquished the anticipation of ultimate success: I lost my first confidence. Perhaps I found that I was wearing beyond the time of life at which fortune usually proves favourable; or, perhaps, in my own eyes, in my own imagination, the spell that had hung over my miraculous career was broken;—but, at all events, I felt that something was wanting. Kind Fortune no longer followed my footsteps, and took pleasure in lavishing her smiles upon me; she was now succeeded by rigid Fate, who took ample revenge for the few favours which I obtained, as it were, by force. It is a remarkable fact that every advantage I obtained at this period was immediately succeeded by a reverse.

“I marched through France, and arrived in the capital amidst the enthusiasm and universal acclamations of the people; but no sooner had I reached Paris than, by a sort of magic, and without any adequate motive, all around suddenly shrank from me and grew cold.

“I had adduced plausible reasons for obtaining a sincere reconciliation with Austria, whither I had despatched agents, more or less avowed.^[8] But Murat was there with his fatal enterprise. It was concluded, at Vienna that he was acting under my orders; and, measuring me by their own scale, they regarded my whole conduct as a complication of artifice, and determined to overreach me by counter-intrigue.

“The opening of my campaign was well managed and proved most successful. I should have surprised the enemy in detail; had not a deserter from among our generals given him timely notice of my plans.

“I gained the brilliant victory of Ligni; but my lieutenant robbed me of its fruits. Finally, I triumphed even at Waterloo, and was immediately hurled into the abyss. Yet I must confess that all these strokes of fate distressed me more than they surprised me. I felt the presentiment of an unfortunate result. Not that this in any way influenced my determinations and measures; but the foreboding certainly haunted my mind.”

That such was really Napoleon’s state of feeling at the period here alluded to is evident from the following anecdote, which is so very remarkable that I cannot forbear presenting it to the reader. When on the banks of the Sambre, the Emperor early one morning approached a bivouac fire, accompanied only by his aide-de-camp on duty (General C—--); some potatoes were boiling on the fire, and the Emperor asked for one, and began to eat it. Then, with a meditative and somewhat melancholy expression, he uttered the following broken sentences:—“After all, it is good, it is endurable.... Man may live in any place, and in any way.... The moment perhaps is not far distant.... Themistocles!...” The aide-de-camp above mentioned, who himself related this circumstance to me, since my return to Europe, observed that, had the Emperor been successful, these words would have passed away without leaving any impression on him; but that, after the catastrophe, and particularly after reading the celebrated letter to the Prince Regent, he had been struck with the recollection of the bivouac of the Sambre; and Napoleon’s manner, tone, and expression, had since so haunted his mind, that he could never banish the circumstance from his memory.

It is a mistake to suppose that Napoleon was on all occasions inspired by that internal confidence which his acts and decisions seemed to denote. When he quitted the Tuileries, in January 1814, to enter upon his immortal but unfortunate campaign in the environs of Paris, his mind was depressed by gloomy apprehensions:—and a circumstance that bears evidence of his penetration and foresight is that, at the period in question, he felt convinced of what the majority of those about him were far from suspecting;—namely, that if he fell, it would be by the Bourbons. This idea he communicated to a few of his particular friends, who vainly endeavoured to rouse his confidence by representing that the Bourbons were forgotten, that they were wholly unknown to the present generation:—“There is the real danger,” was his invariable reply. Thus, immediately after his eloquent and impressive harangue to the officers of the national guard, in which among other things he said:—“You elected me, I am your work, and it is for you to defend me;” and which he concluded by presenting to them the Empress and the King of Rome, saying, “I“I go to oppose the enemy, and I consign to your care all that I hold most dear:”—immediately after delivering this address, when on the point of quitting the Tuileries, he foresaw at that decisive moment the treachery and perfidy that awaited him, and he resolved to secure the person of him who proved to be the main-spring of the plot, by which his overthrow was effected. He was prevented from executing his intention only by representations, and it may even be said, offers of personal responsibility, on the part of some of his Ministers, who assured him that the individual suspected had more reason than any one else to dread the return of the Bourbons. Napoleon yielded; at the same time emphatically expressing fears that he might have cause to regret his forbearance!...

The following circumstance, which is but little known, is important, since it proves how much, in the height of the crisis. Napoleon’s thoughts were directed towards the Bourbons. After the check sustained at Brienne, the evacuation of Troyes, the forced retreat on the Seine, and the degradingdegrading conditions which were transmitted from Chatillon, but which were so generously rejected, the Emperor, who was closeted with one of his friends, overpowered at sight of the miseries that were impending on France, suddenly rose from his chair, exclaiming with warmth:—“Perhaps I still possess the means of saving France.... What if I were myself to recal the Bourbons! The Allies would then be compelled to arrest their course, under pain of being overwhelmed with disgrace and detected in their duplicity; under pain of being forced to acknowledge that their designs were directed against our territory rather than against my person. I should sacrifice all to the country. I should become the mediator between the French people and the Bourbons. I should oblige the latter to accede to the national laws, and to swear fidelity to the existing compact: my glory and name would be a guarantee to the French people. As for me, I have reigned long enough. My career is filled with acts of glory; and this last will not be esteemed the least. I shall rise the higher by descending thus far....” Then, after a pause of some moments, he added:—“But can a repulsed dynasty ever forgive?... Can it ever forget?... Can the Bourbons be trusted?... May not Fox be right in his famous maxim respecting restorations?...”

Overcome by grief and anxiety, he threw himself on his couch, and was shortly after roused to be made acquainted with the march of the flank of Blucher’s corps, on which he had for some time been secretly keeping watch. He rose to put into action that new spring of resources, energy, and glory, which will for ever consecrate the names of Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, Chateau-Thierry, Vaux-Champ, Nangis, Montereau, Craon, &c. These marvellous successes dismayed Alexander and the English, and suggested to them the expediency of treating: they might indeed have entirely changed the face of affairs, had not Napoleon’s designs been thwarted by accidents beyond the reach of human calculation. For example, the important orders which did not reach the Viceroy, the defection of Murat, the indolence and negligence of certain Chiefs, and finally, even the successful movements of the French, which, by separating the Emperor of Austria from the other Allied Sovereigns, left the latter entirely free to plan the abdication of Fontainebleau, an event which will ever be celebrated in the history of our destiny and our moral character.

Philosophic thinkers, painters of the human heart, turn your eyes to Fontainebleau, and contemplate the fall of the greatest of monarchs! Observe how the retinue by which the unfortunate hero was surrounded,—those whom he had loaded with favours, honours, and riches,—at the first frown of fortune, forsook, betrayed, and even sought to insult him!... Mark how the first among them in rank, in favour, in confidence—he whom the great Prince had vainly sought to inspire with exalted sentiment, by treating him as his companion and his friend,—mark how this man degraded himself to the level of the Mameluke, whose native manners rendered him perhaps more excusable, and who thought it perfectly natural to forsake his fallen master.

At Fontainebleau, the crisis being accomplished, and while Napoleon was earnestly engaged, this favourite companion presented himself before him to solicit permission to proceed to Paris, only, as he said, for a short time, and for the purpose of settling some business, after which, he declared that he should return to the Emperor, never again to leave him. But Napoleon could read the secrets of the human mind, and that person had scarcely withdrawn, when the Emperor, breaking from the subject on which he was engaged, said to him with whom he had been conversing:—“There he goes to seal his own degradation; and, in spite of all his protestations, he will never come back again,“ He spoke truly; the deserter hastened to greet the first rays of the rising sun; and no sooner had it shone upon him than he renounced his benefactor, his friend, and master!... In speaking of the Emperor, he was even known to use the expression that man! And yet Napoleon so readily forgave human weakness, and was so superior to every feeling of rancour and resentment, that, on his return from Elba, he expressed regret at not seeing the individual who had acted so treacherous a part, adding, with a smile:—“The rogue is afraid of me, I suppose; but he has no reason to be so. The only punishment I should have inflicted on him would have been to require him to appear before me in his new costume. They tell me he looks even uglier than usual.“

And how many instances of private turpitude might not be mentioned! I myself can attest that an important personage, who had been most remarkable for his base conduct on returning from Fontainebleau, appeared one of the most forward at the Tuileries, on the 20th of March. He appeared very much disconcerted at the accidental or intended solitude in which he was left by all the rest. A witness of his late misconduct, burying the recollection of past troubles in the present joy, hastened to him and relieved him from his embarrassment. Such generosity cost little at that moment.

I refer to the Manuscript of 1814, for a picture of these mortifying events.^[9] The reader may there learn—But no, he will learn nothing new—In all circumstances, at all times, and in all countries, men, and particularly courtiers, are ever the same; and it must be recollected that, by this time, Napoleon’s camp had become a Court.—Let not these men say that their conduct was dictated by regard for the welfare and interest of their country. The thought of securing the undisturbed enjoyment of the wealth and honours they had acquired superseded in their minds every patriotic consideration. But history will be just. I say history, for the bulk of the present generation cannot even claim this sad honour. Where was our indignation? Where was our reprobation authentically and solemnly pronounced?... And let it be understood that this is a point wholly unconnected with political considerations. The question is not what cause these men supported: but merely, what moral principle they professed. But it must not be supposed that discontented misanthropy would lead me to draw a picture discouraging to all hearts, and to conclude with the proscription of all mankind. By no means:—I am well aware that the moment of great trials is that of great extremes; and that, amidst the basest passions, the most brilliant heroism and noble virtue shine conspicuous. Therefore, honoured be those veteran bands, whose bitter tears attested their sincere sorrow! Honoured be those innumerable subaltern officers to whom a word would have been the signal for shedding every drop of their blood! Honoured be the generous peasantry, who presented to our troops their last morsel of bread; and, disregarding their own privations, parted with all, to aid the brave defenders of their country! Honoured be those generous sentiments that were expressed by the citizens of every class, sex, and age! If, on the one side, the heart is roused to indignation, it finds a delicious source of gratification on the other.

At St. Helena, the Emperor dictated an account of the events of Fontainebleau, and his removal to the Island of Elba; but my memory does not enable me to quote any of the facts thus detailed. I took no notes of them, because, with a view of abridging my own labour, I laid down the rule of passing over those subjects that were dictated to others, being assured that they would be faithfully recorded. I shall, therefore, merely subjoin a few particulars which are collected from Napoleon’s conversations, or other authentic sources.

When the disasters of 1814 were apparent, when the danger was imminent, particularly after the entrance of the Allies into Paris, many of the French Generals began to waver. Those in whom selfishness prevailed over patriotism; those who would rather retire from the fatigues of war, than obey the dictates of duty, honour and glory; urged on the catastrophe, instead of seeking to avert it. The most distinguished Chiefs ventured to advise the abdication, and declared it to be indispensable. Some even went so far as to hint to the Emperor that they could not answer for the consequences of the dissatisfaction and indignation which the soldiers manifested towards him; while, on the contrary, as Napoleon himself said, “such was the attachment of the troops, and the devotedness of the officers, that, if I had made known the machinations that were plotting, I certainly should have endangered those who were guilty of such misrepresentation. A single word from me would have sacrificed them.” Napoleon reviewed the troops: their acclamations were enthusiastic and general. It appeared as though adversity served only to render the Emperor the more dear to them, for their attachment was never so decidedly expressed. “It was impossible that it could be otherwise,” said Napoleon, “such was the identity of these brave men with me, and such our mutual sympathy, I never entertained a doubt of their attachment.”

In this extremity, Napoleon profoundly reflected on what course it was advisable for him to pursue. He yet possessed forty or fifty thousand troops, the best and most devoted in the world; he might, without risk, have overawed or dismissed the faithless Generals. In this state of things, three different measures, by turns, presented themselves to his mind.

The first was to return to Paris; for he imagined that no General on earth would be bold enough to give him battle with that immense capital in his rear. “At my command,” said the Emperor, “the whole population would have risen. I should suddenly have found my forces recruited, by the addition of one or two hundred thousand men. But the Allies, on retiring, might have burnt the capital; and this disaster would have been accounted my work. It is true, the burning of Paris might have proved in reality the salvation of France, as the burning of Moscow was the salvation of Russia; but such sacrifices can only be made by the parties interested.”

The second idea which suggested itself to the Emperor’s mind was to proceed to Italy, to form a junction with the Viceroy. “But this,” said Napoleon, “would have been a desperate course, without the chance of obtaining an adequate result. It would have removed the theatre of conflict to too remote a point. Public enthusiasm would have had time to subside; and we should no longer have been fighting in France, on whose sacred soil alone we could hope to work the prodigies that had become indispensable.”

Neither of these two measures would have been practicable. Only the third course, therefore, remained, and this was, to continue on the defensive, to dispute every foot of ground, and to maintain the war until new chances should arise. The stupor, which the presence of the invaders had produced, would soon be dispelled; the miseries they created would soon render them the objects of execration: the national enthusiasm would revive; and the Allies would find their graves in the land which they had presumed to violate. But this must necessarily have been the work of time; in a word, success was doubtful, or, at least, remote; while the sufferings of the people were certain, immediate, and incalculable. The noble mind of Napoleon was moved; and he resolved to abdicate.

Meanwhile, he despatched to the Emperor Alexander a deputation of Marshals, among whom was the Duke of Ragusa, one of those to whom he was most fondly attached. The Deputation was instructed to propose the abdication of Napoleon, in favour of his son. The Emperor thus hoped to save France, to secure her independence and the duration of her existing institutions. The Emperor Alexander, who had several days before publicly declared that he would not treat either with Napoleon or any of the members of his family, nevertheless discussed the subject contradictorily with that party of the Senate who proposed the abdication. The Marshals spoke vehemently, and in the name of the whole army. Alexander’s determination was shaken, and the party favourable to the Regency seemed likely to prevail, when intelligence arrived of the defection of the Duke of Ragusa; and this circumstance confirmed Alexander in his previous resolution. The event came upon him like a ray of light: the army, then, is not unanimous, thought he! From that moment, setting aside all reserve, he declared himself to be inflexible. In this state of things, Napoleon was surrounded, urged, and harassed to sign his positive and unconditional abdication. He yielded, after a great internal struggle, and dictated the act of abdication, in the following terms:—

“The Allied Powers having proclaimed that the Emperor Napoleon is the only obstacle to the re-establishment of the peace of Europe, the Emperor, faithful to his oath, renounces for himself and his heirs, the thrones of France and Italy, and declares that there is no sacrifice, even that of life, which he is not ready to make for the interests of France.”

This declaration, which the Allies were far from expecting in so absolute a form, smoothed every difficulty, and the Marshals returned with what is called the treaty of Fontainebleau, which I shall presently insert.

I find in Baron Fain’s Manuscript of 1814, a complete explanation of certain remarks made by the Emperor, which I noted down at the time, without exactly comprehending their meaning. In a former part of this Journal, the Emperor, alluding to the treaty of Fontainebleau, says, “I will have nothing to do with that treaty; I disclaim it. Far from being proud of it, I blush for it. It was discussed for me, and against my will,” &c. And, on another occasion, he says, “When the history of the events of Fontainebleau comes to be known, it will afford ample room for surprise.” The Manuscript of 1814 proves that Napoleon had, indeed, nothing to do with the treaty of Fontainebleau. The utmost exertions were employed to prevail on him to sign the treaty; and he was, at length, only influenced by the public considerations that were adduced in support of it. He thought it both degrading and useless to sign the treaty. Having survived his greatness, he wished thenceforth to live as a private individual; and he was mortified to reflect that the vast sacrifice which had been made, for the peace of the world, should be mingled with pecuniary arrangements. “Of what use is a treaty,” said he, “since they will not settle the interests of France with me? If only my personal interests are concerned, there is no need of a treaty. I am conquered; I yield to the fate of arms. All I ask is that I may not be accounted a prisoner of war: and for that a mere cartel is sufficient!”

Every endeavour to turn his thoughts to his personal situation, his existence, and future wants, proved unavailing. To all such suggestions, he energetically replied, “What matters it? A horse and a crown a day are all that I want.”

I, for my own part, can bear witness that the Emperor infinitely regretted having ratified the treaty of Fontainebleau; and this was not the only decision of the period which weighed heavily on his mind. He also very much regretted having yielded, when in his position at St. Dizier and Doulevant, to the various representations and suggestions by which he was assailed, and which brought him back against his inclination upon Paris. “HereParis. “Here I wanted firmness,” said he; “I should have followed up my intention of advancing to the Rhine, collecting reinforcements from all the garrisons on my way, and exciting the peasantry to rise. By this means, I should soon have possessed an immense army. Murat would immediately have rejoined me; and he and the Viceroy would have made me master of Vienna, if the Allies had presumed to deprive me of Paris. But no: the enemy would have shrunk from the dangers with which he would have been surrounded. The Allied Sovereigns would have regarded it as a favour to have been permitted to retire; and then the volcano of foreigners against us would have been completely extinguished. Peace would have been concluded and sincerely maintained; for all were exhausted; all had wounds to heal!... Abroad, war could no longer have been thought of; and at home, such a result must have had the effect of destroying all illusion, frustrating every evil design, and permanently blending the opinions, views, and interests of all parties. I should once more have seated myself triumphantly on the throne, surrounded by my invincible bands. The heroic and faithful portion of the people would have harmonized those who had wavered; and the men who had shewn themselves so eager for repose might have enjoyed it. A new generation of chiefs would have remoulded our character. Every effort would have been directed to the internal welfare of the country; and France would have been happy!”

When speaking of the confusion created in Paris, by the approach of the Allies; the dejection, to use no stronger term, that was evinced by the upper classes; the good spirit and enthusiasm manifested by the great body of the people, who were ready to fight, if they could have procured arms,—I observed that the departure of the Empress had produced a fatal effect on the public mind. I mentioned, as a singular circumstance, that the young King of Rome, contrary to custom, obstinately refused to quit the palace: he wept bitterly, and it was found necessary to carry him away by force. I also added that it was universally reported that the Empress wished to remain, and that the Council was inclined to second her wishes, until precise orders were received from the Emperor, directing her to quit Paris, in case of urgent danger on the part of the enemy. “Yes,” said the Emperor, “and“and those orders were very necessary. The Empress was young and totally inexperienced. Had she been capable of personal decision, my directions would have been quite the contrary. Paris then would have been her proper post. But I foresaw the intrigues of which she would be the object; and I wished to prevent at Paris what subsequently occurred at Orleans. There the men who were planning the Regency, in the expectation of ruling under the Empress, prevented her from joining me. What fatal consequences were thus produced! Would to Heaven that I had also despatched timely orders, directing her to quit Orleans!”

It is certain that at FontainebleauFontainebleau Napoleon was, almost at one and the same moment, the victim of every kind of mental distress with which man can possibly be assailed. Subdued by defection and not by force of arms, he felt all that could rouse the indignation of a lofty mind, or break an affectionate heart. His friends forsook him; his servants betrayed him; one surrendered his army; another his treasure. The men whom he had reared, maintained and loaded with favours, were those who wrought his overthrow. The members of the senate, who, only the day before, had supplied him profusely with conscripts to oppose the enemy, scrupled not to become the instruments of that very enemy. Under the impulse of foreign bayonets, they imputed to him as a crime that which was their own work; and basely broke the idol which they had themselves created, and so servilely worshipped. What a depth of disgrace and degradation!... Finally (and this stroke Napoleon felt more severely than all the rest), his wife and child were carried away from him; and, in defiance of treaties and laws, in opposition to all moral principle, he was never allowed to see them more!...

It appears that Napoleon, oppressed by this weight of affliction, surrounded by this odious turpitude, in his utter contempt of human nature, and all things connected with this world, formed the resolution of putting an end to his life. A letter has been preserved, written in his own hand to the Empress, in which he says that the moment has arrived when she must prepare her mind for every thing; that all is possible, even the death of the Emperor. This was, doubtless, an allusion to the mysterious event of the night of the 12th of April, which was wrapt in profound secrecy. The Manuscript of 1814, however, contains some particulars relative to this occurrence, which, if they be correct, will not leave the furious enemies of Napoleon even the satisfaction of repeating the stupid and vulgar remark, that he had not courage to die; ... for, according to the Manuscript, it appears, on the contrary, that he could not die! This is not the least extraordinary event in Napoleon’s career. His remark, Heaven has ordained that I shall live! and the calm and noble resignation, which from that moment succeeded, appear truly sublime.

Napoleon’s celebrated farewell address to his troops, and his last embrace of those eagles which he had immortalized, are well known. A Prussian diplomatist, who was present, has assured me that the scene produced an impression on him which time can never obliterate. He added that the English Commissioner, who stood near him, and who had previously been an inveterate enemy of Napoleon’s, was so deeply moved that he shed tears.

Such were the sentiments of respect and veneration naturally inspired by Napoleon that, in spite of the danger and inconvenience occasioned by his presence in France, no one presumed to hasten his departure; and he was allowed full time to make all the arrangements that he wished.

The treaty of abdication is dated the 11th of April, and Napoleon did not quit Fontainebleau until the 20th, nine days after. Throughout the first part of his journey, he was the object of universal respect, and often of the warmest and most affectionate interest.^[10]

Hitherto, foreigners seemed to have formed no idea of the spirit that prevailed in France, or of the real feelings of the people with regard to the Emperor. However, it was deemed prudent to arrange matters so that Napoleon should reach Lyons in the night; or, I rather believe, it was intended to prevent his entering that city at all. I received the following particulars from an English gentleman, one of those who had been long detained in France, and who happened, at the period in question, to be residing at Lyons. My informant and the Austrian General went out in disguise, and mingled with the crowd that had assembled to see the dethroned monarch pass by. They expected to be much amused with the imprecations of which, they concluded, he would be the object. But, as soon as the Emperor appeared, deep silence prevailed among the multitude; and an old woman, to all appearance above the common class, habited in deep mourning, and with a countenance full of enthusiasm, rushed forward to the door of the Emperor’s carriage. “Sire,” said she, with an air of solemnity, “may the blessing of Heaven attend you! Endeavour to make yourself happy. They tear you from us; but our hearts are with you wheresoever you go.” The Austrian General, quite disconcerted, said to his companion, “Let us begone; I have no patience with this old mad woman. The people have not common sense.”

A little beyond Lyons, the General-in-chief of the army of the East appeared on the road; and Napoleon, alighting from his carriage, walked with him for a considerable way. When the General had taken his leave, one of the allied Commissioners ventured to express his surprise that the Emperor should have treated him with such an appearance of friendship and confidence. “Why should I not?” inquired Napoleon.—“Your Majesty is, perhaps, not aware of his conduct?“—“What has he done?“—“Sire, he entered into an understanding with us several weeks ago.” “It was even so,” said the Emperor, “he to whom I had entrusted the defence of France on this point, sacrificed and betrayed the country.” After many complaints of the perfidy of men in whom he had reposed confidence, he concluded by saying: “The Marshal was no longer the soldier. His early courage and virtues had raised him above the multitude; but honours, dignities, and fortune, again reduced him to the common level. The conqueror of Castiglione might have left behind him a name dear to his country. But France will execrate the memory of the traitor of Lyons, and all who acted as he did, unless, indeed, their future services shall make amends for their past wrongs.”

This circumstance dictated the famous proclamation which the Emperor issued on his return. “Frenchmen,” said he, “the defection of the Duke of Castiglione left Lyons defenceless and at the mercy of the enemy. The army, the command of which I had entrusted to that Chief, was, from the number of its battalions, and the courage and patriotism of its troops, capable of defeating the corps of the Austrian army opposed to it, and advancing on the rear of the left flank of the enemy’s force that threatened Paris. The victories of ChampChamp-Aubert, Montmirail, Chateau-Thierry, Vaux-Champ, Mormans, Montereau, Craon, Rheims, Arcis-sur-Aube, and St. Dizier; the rising of the brave peasantry of Lorraine, Champagne, Alsace, the Franche-Comte, and Burgundy; the position which I had taken up in the rear of the enemy, intercepting his magazines, parks of reserve, convoys, and equipages—all had thrown the invading forces into a desperate situation. The French people never had the prospect of becoming more powerful. The enemy’s picked corps would have been irretrievably lost, and would have found their graves in those plains which they so mercilessly ravaged, when the treason of the Duke of Ragusa delivered up the capital, and disorganized the army. The unlooked-for conduct of these two generals, who at once betrayed their country, their Prince, and their benefactor, changed the fate of the war. Such was the disastrous situation of the enemy, after the affair which took place before Paris, that he was absolutely destitute of ammunition, by being separated from his parks of reserve,” &c.^[11]

Napoleon was less favourably received in proportion as he approached Provence; for there the machinations of his enemies had anticipated his arrival. He had escaped the ambush of Maubreuil, but he could not avoid that of Orgon; and this part of his dictated narrative is not the least curious.

On his arrival at the place of embarkation, he found two vessels in readiness to receive him; the one French and the other English. Napoleon went on board the English frigate, observing that, he would never allow itit to be said that a Frenchman had conveyed him away.

Such is a brief account of the great event, the details of which, dictated by Napoleon himself, will, as I have already mentioned, hereafter be presented to the public. France was, at the time, inundated with pamphlets on the subject, so full of falsehood and absurdity that every honest and sensible man now blushes for having given credit to them, or having had even the courage to read them.

The following is the treaty of Fontainebleau, to which I have already alluded. It was carefully suppressed at the time it was drawn up, was never published in the Moniteur, and remained long unknown. It is to be found only in official collections, and even there the copies differ one from another. I presume, therefore, that its insertion here will not be deemed superfluous. It is intimately connected with the subject of which I have just been treating, and many of its articles are still the topics of daily conversation; and it must of course be satisfactory to be enabled to discuss with a full knowledge of facts.

TREATY OF FONTAINEBLEAU.

“Article I. His Majesty the Emperor Napoleon renounces for himself, his successors and descendants, as well as for all the members of his family, all right of sovereignty and dominion over the French Empire, and the kingdom of Italy, as well as over every other country.

“II. Their Majesties the Emperor Napoleon and Empress Maria Louisa, shall retain their titles and rank, to be enjoyed during their lives.

“The mother, brothers, sisters, nephews and nieces of the Emperor, shall also retain, wherever they may reside, the titles of Princes of the Emperor’s family.

“III. The Isle of Elba, adopted by his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon as his place of residence, shall form, during his life, a separate principality, which shall be possessed by him in full sovereignty and property.

“There shall be besides granted, in full property to the Emperor Napoleon, an annual revenue of 2,000,000 francs in rent charge in the great book of France, of which 1,000,000 shall be in reversion to the Empress.

“IV. All the Powers promise to employ their good offices in causing to be respected by the Barbary Powers the flag and territory of the Isle of Elba; for which purpose, the relations with the Barbary Powers shall be assimilated to those of France.

“V. The Duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, shall be granted in full property and sovereignty to her Majesty the Empress Maria Louisa. They shall pass to the Prince her son, and to his descendants in the right line. The Prince shall, henceforth, take the title of Prince of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla.

“VI. There shall be reserved in the territories renounced by this treaty, to his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon, for himself and his family, domains, rent charges, in the great book of France, producing an annual revenue, clear of all deductions and charges, of 2,500,000 francs. These domains, or rents, shall belong, in full property, to be disposed of as they think fit, to the Princes and Princesses of the Emperor’s family, and shall be divided amongst them in such manner that the revenues of each shall be in the following proportion, viz:

“The Princes and Princesses of the family of the Emperor Napoleon shall moreover retain all the property, moveable and immoveable, of every kind whatever, which they may possess by private right; together with the rents which they hold also, as private individuals, in the great book of France, or the Monte-Napoleone of Milan.

“VII. The annual pension of the Empress Josephine shall be reduced to 1,000,000 in domains, or inscriptions in the great book of France. She shall continue to enjoy, in full property, all her private fortune, moveable and immoveable, with power to dispose of it conformably to the French Laws.

“VIII. There shall be granted to Prince Eugene, Viceroy of Italy, a suitable establishment out of France.

“IX. The property which the Emperor Napoleon possesses in France, either as extraordinary domain, or private domain, will remain attached to the crown.

“Of the funds vested by the Emperor in the great book of France, in the French bank, in the “X.—All the crown diamonds shall remain in France.

“XI.—His Majesty the Emperor Napoleon shall return to the Treasury, and to the other public funds, all the sums and effects that may have been taken therefrom by his orders, with the exception of what has been appropriated from the civil list.

“XII.—The debts of the household of his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon, such as they may be at the time of the signature of the present treaty, shall be immediately discharged out of the arrears due by the public treasury to the civil list, according to a list which shall be signed by a Commissioner appointed for that purpose.

“XIII.—The obligations of the Monte-Napoleone, of Milan, towards all creditors, whether Frenchmen or foreigners, shall be punctually fulfilled, without any change being made in this respect.

“XIV.—There shall be granted all the necessary passports for the free passage of his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon, the Empress, the Princes and Princesses, and all the persons of their suites, who wish to accompany them, or fix their abode in foreign countries, as well as for the passage of all the equipages, horses, and effects, belonging to them.

“The Allied Powers will, in consequence, furnish officers and men for escorts.

“XV.—The French Imperial Guard shall furnish a detachment of from 1200 to 1500 men, of all arms, to serve as an escort to the Emperor to St. Tropez, the place of his embarkation.

“XVI.—A brig and the necessary transport vessels shall be fitted out to convey to the place of his destination his Majesty the Emperor Napoleon and his household. The brig shall belong, in full property, to his Majesty the Emperor.

“XVII.—The Emperor shall be allowed to take with him, and retain, as his guard, 400 men, volunteers and officers, as well as sub-officers and soldiers.

“XVIII.—Every Frenchman who may follow the Emperor Napoleon, or his family, shall be held to have forfeited his rights as a Frenchman, should he not return to France within three years; at least, if he be not included in the exceptions which the French Government reserves to itself to grant, after the expiration of that period.

“XIX.—The Polish troops of all arms, in the service of France, shall be at liberty to return home, and shall retain their arms and baggage, as a testimony of their honourable services. The officers, sub-officers, and soldiers, shall retain the decorations which have been granted to them, and the pensions annexed to these decorations.

“XX.—The Allied Powers guarantee the execution of the articles of the present treaty, and promise to obtain its adoption and guarantee by France.

“XXI.—The present act shall be ratified, and the ratifications exchanged at Paris within ten days, or sooner, if possible.

“Done at Paris, April 11, 1814.

The same articles were signed separately and under the same date, by Count Nesselrode on behalf of Russia, and Baron Hardenberg, on behalf of Prussia.

DECLARATION OF ACCESSION IN THE NAME
OF LOUIS XVIII.

“The undersigned, Minister and Secretary of State for the department of Foreign Affairs, having submitted to the King the inquiry which their excellencies the plenipotentiaries of the Allied Powers have been ordered by their sovereigns to make, relative to the treaty of the 11th of April, to which the Provisional Government has acceded; his Majesty has been pleased to authorize him in his name, to declare that the clauses of the treaty, in so far as France is concerned, shall be faithfully executed. The undersigned has consequently the honour to communicate this declaration to their excellencies.

“Paris, May 31, 1814.”

The great European triumvirate dew up the treaty of Fontainebleau, England acceded to it, a declaration made in the name of the King of France promised its fulfilment in so far as he was concerned; and yet, in spite of all these guarantees, it may be said that scarcely any of the articles were observed. Certainly, it would be difficult to conceive a more flagrant violation of good faith or a more absolute compromise of the august signatures, which, it was to be expected, each party would have been individually interested in preserving unsullied and sacred. On these manifest violations was grounded the moral justification of Napoleon’s enterprise in 1815. This opinion was pretty generally adopted: it was advocated by the most distinguished members of the English Parliament, those indefatigable supporters of great principles, and by eminent statesmen of all countries. I may add to these high authorities an individual opinion, which though somewhat comically expressed, was not perhaps the less just. An Austrian gentleman of rank, who was in Paris in 1815, and who was a furious enemy of Napoleon’s, called on me just at the time when the Emperor’s advance to the capital began to produce a great sensation. The Austrian had already determined to set off, and he said to me, with all possible gravity and sincerity: “Certainly, he hitherto occupied the throne of France as an usurper: that’s unquestionable! But,” added he, quibbling with himself diplomatically, “if he should now conquer France, after all the monarchs of Europe have acknowledged him as a sovereign, and have entitled him to go to war by not observing the conditions they entered into, the case would be very different. And, upon my word! ... for my own part at least ... I think in that case ... there might be some ground for maintaining that he has become legitimate. At least, I think I should myself be inclined to consider him so.”

LETTER FROM LORD CASTLEREAGH TO LORD BATHURST,

RELATIVE TO THE TREATY OF FONTAINEBLEAU.

(Paris, April 15, 1814.)

“... I shall, therefore, on the present occasion, confine myself to an explanation of what has passed with respect to the future destination and settlement of Napoleon and his family.

“Your Lordship has been already informed, by Lord Cathcart, of the Act of Abdication which was signed by Buonaparte, on the 4th instant, and of the assurance which was given him by the Emperor of Russia, and the Provisional Government, of a pecuniary provision of six millions of francs, with a safe asylum in the Island of Elba. The act in question was deposited in the hands of M. de Caulaincourt, and Marshals Ney and Macdonald, to be given up upon the due execution of engagements on the part of the Allies, with respect to the proposed arrangement. These persons were also authorized to agree to an armistice, and to settle such a line of demarcation as might be satisfactory to the Allies, and, in the mean time, prevent an unnecessary effusion of blood.

“On my arrival, I found this arrangement on the point of execution. A convention had been discussed, and would have, in fact, been signed in the course of the day by the Russian Minister, had not the approach of the Allied Ministers been announced. The motives for accelerating the immediate conclusion of this act, were the inconvenience, if not the danger of Napoleon’s remaining at Fontainebleau, surrounded by troops, who still, in a considerable degree, remained faithful to him; the apprehension of intrigues in the army and in the capital; and the importance attached, by a considerable portion of the officers, to some arrangement favourable to their chief, in satisfaction of their personal honour, before they left him.

“On the night of my arrival, the four Ministers had a conference with the Prince de Benevento, on the subject of the proposed convention, to which I stated my objections, desiring, at the same time, to be understood as not urging them then, at the hazard of the internal tranquillity of France, nor in impeachment of what was due, in good faith, to the assurance given, under the exigency of the moment, by Russia.

“The Prince de Benevento admitted the weight of many of the objections stated, but declared that he did consider it, on the part of the Provisional Government, as an object of the first importance, to avoid any thing that might assume the character of a civil war, even for the shortest time:—that he also found some such measure necessary, to make the army pass over in a temper to be made use of. Upon these declarations, and the Count de Nesselrode’s, that the Emperor, his master, had found it necessary, in the absence of the Allies, to act for the best, in their name as well as his own; I withdrew any further opposition to the principle of the measure, suggesting only some alterations in the details. I desired, however, to decline, on the part of my Government, being more than an acceding party to the treaty, and declared that the Act of Accession on the part of Great Britain should not go beyond the territorial arrangements proposed in the Treaty. My objections to our unnecessarily mixing in its forms, especially in the recognition of Napoleon’s title under present circumstances, were considered as perfectly reasonable: and I now enclose the protocol and note, which will explain the extent to which I have taken it upon me to give assurances on the part of my Court.

“At my suggestion, the recognition of the imperial titles in the family were limited to their respective lives, for which there was a precedent in the case of the King of Poland, when he became Elector of Saxony.

“To the arrangement in favour of the Empress, I not only felt no objection, but considered it due to the distinguished sacrifice of domestic feelings which the Emperor of Austria was making to the cause of Europe. I should have wished to substitute another position in lieu of Elba, for the seat of Napoleon’s retirement; but none, having the quality of security on which he insisted, seemed disposable, to which equal objections did not occur; and I did not feel that I could encourage the alternative which M. de Caulaincourt assured me Buonaparte repeatedly mentioned, namely, an asylum in England.

“On the same night, the Allied Ministers had a conference with M. de Caulaincourt, and the Marshals, at which I assisted. The treaty was gone through, and agreed to with alterations: it has been since signed and ratified, and Buonaparte will commence his movement towards the south to-morrow, or the day following.

I thought it advisable to transcribe this letter; it throws a complete light on the treaty of the 11th of April, of the particulars of which I was ignorant, even when at St. Helena; and it presents two points to which I particularly wish to call attention. It explains the observation which fell from the Emperor, when I observed to him that on an important occasion he seemed to have forgotten the acknowledgement of his title by the English at Fontainebleau: when he merely replied that it was done on purpose. Now, I learn from the letter above quoted, that Lord Castlereagh studiously avoided the recognition; but this is no impeachment of the scrupulous correctness of Napoleon’s assertions.

The second point, which impartiality induces me to advert to is that Lord Castlereagh, in his letter, speaks of the alternative offered by Napoleon, to retire to England, in default of the cession of the Isle of Elba. A few pages further on (Nov. 16), it will be found that Napoleon, on the contrary, reproaches Lord Castlereagh with having caused it to be insinuated to him that the adoption of England, as a place of residence, would be the preferable course. These two statements are certainly quite contradictory; but regard for impartiality, as I before observed, has induced me to insert them. The reader is, therefore, free to decide as he may think fit; for, as I have often heard the Emperor say, one man’s word is as good as another’s. For my own part, my choice is soon determined: I adopt the words of Napoleon, in spite of the assertions of Lord Castlereagh. I still bear in mind the erroneous declarations of Lord Whitworth, which have been mentioned in the course of this Journal; the scandalous assertions respecting Napoleon, made by Lord Castlereagh in Parliament or in public assemblies; the garbled documents, on the authority of which Murat’s deposition was decreed; and the numerous denials so confidently expressed by Lord Bathurst in the House of Lords, the falsehood of which was manifest to every individual at St. Helena, and occasioned embarrassment even to Sir Hudson Lowe. I shall, therefore, adhere to the opinion I have formed, until I find good reason to alter it.

THE SWORD OF FREDERIC THE GREAT.—ON NAPOLEON’S MARRIAGE IT WAS HOPED THAT THE LION WOULD SLUMBER.—TORMENTING CONDUCT OF THE GOVERNOR.—OUR LOT ENVIABLE, EVEN AMIDST OUR MISERY.

13th.—This morning, when I was in the Emperor’s apartment, being unemployed, I took a fancy to examine the large watch of Frederick the Great, which hangs beside the chimney piece. This led the Emperor to say, “I have been the possessor of glorious and valuable relics. I had the sword of Frederick the Great; and the Spaniards presented to me, at the Tuileries, the sword of Francis I. This was a high compliment, and it must have cost them some sacrifice. The Turks and Persians have also sent me arms, which were said to have belonged to Gengiskan, Tamerlan, Nadir Shah, and I know not whom; but I attached importance not to the fact, but to the intention.”

I expressed my astonishment that he had not endeavoured to keep Frederick’s sword. “Why, I had my own,” said he, smiling, and gently pinching my ear. He was right; I certainly made a very stupid observation.

Afterwards, alluding to his second marriage, he said, that he had intendedintended to make choice of a Frenchwoman, and it would have been well if he had done so. “Such a union would have been eminently national,” he observed. “France was sufficiently great, and her Monarch sufficiently powerful, to set aside every consideration of foreign policy. Besides, among Sovereigns, the ties of blood are always made to yield to political interests: hence what scandalous violations of moral feeling are frequently exhibited to the world. Another objection that may be urged against marriages of this kind is the admission of a foreign Princess into state secrets, which she may be tempted to betray; and, if a sovereign places trust in his connexions abroad, he may find that he has set his foot on an abyss covered with flowers. In short, it is absurd to suppose that such alliances can guarantee or ensure any advantage.”

The announcement of the Emperor’s second marriage was a source of joy to those prudent citizens who looked forward to the future.—A few days after he had formed his determination, Napoleon said to one of his Ministers (the Duke DecrÈsDecrÈs), in a moment of good humoured familiarity, “Well; it appears that people are very much pleased with my intended marriage.”—“Yes, Sire.”—“I suppose they expect that the lion will slumber.”—“To say the truth, Sire, we are somewhat inclined to form that expectation.”—“Well,” resumed Napoleon, after a few moments’ silence, “it is a mistake: and it is not the fault of the lion either. Slumber would be as sweet to him as to any other. But do not you see that while I am, to all appearance, incessantly attacking, I am, nevertheless, always engaged in self-defence?”

The correctness of this assertion might have been doubted, while the terrible conflict lasted; but the joy and indiscretion of the triumphant party have sufficiently confirmed its truth. Some boasted of having formed the determination of prosecuting the war until they had accomplished the destruction of their enemy: others^[13] have unblushingly proclaimed that the plot for Napoleon’s overthrow was hatched under the mask of alliance and friendship!

During this and the two succeeding days, my attention was wholly occupied by a contest which concerned me personally, and which has had so much influence on my subsequent destiny, that I cannot pass it over in silence. Ever since my residence at Longwood, I have had, as a servant, a free mulatto, with whom I was very well satisfied; but Sir Hudson Lowe suddenly took it into his head to remove him.

Prompted by the determination of tormenting us, by every means his imagination could suggest, or (as many are inclined to believe,) following up a perfidiously laid plan, he sent the English officer on duty to inform me that he had conceived some doubts as to the propriety of my being attended by a native of the Island; and that he intended to remove my servant and send me one of his own choosing. My answer was brief and positive; “The Governor,” said I, “has it in his power to send away my servant, if he pleases; but he may spare himself the trouble of sending me one of his choosing. I am daily learning better and better how to dispense with the comforts of life. I can, if necessary, wait on myself; this additional privation will be but slightly felt, amidst the sufferings to which we are subjected.”

This circumstance occasioned the interchange of a vast number of messages and notes. Sir Hudson Lowe wrote three or four times every day to the officer on duty directing him to make various communications to me. He observed that he did not understand my scruples, and could not conceive why I should object to any servant he might send me.—One of his selecting was as good as any other—The offer of making the choice himself was merely a mark of attention, &c.

I was distressed to see the poor officer thus mercilessly sent to and fro; and I was also heartily tired of the business myself. I therefore begged that he would spare himself further trouble, by assuring the Governor that to all his communications my reply must invariably be the same; namely, that he might send away my servant if he pleased; but that he must not think of obliging me to receive one of his choosing; that he might place me in garrison by force, but never with my own consent. While this correspondence was going forward, my servant was sent for, interrogated, withdrawn from my service, then sent back again, and at length finally withdrawn.

I rendered an account of the whole affair to the Emperor, who highly applauded my determination of not admitting a spy among us. “But,” said he, in the most engaging manner, “as this sacrifice has been made for the interest of all, it is not proper that you alone should be the sufferer. Send to Gentilini, my Thus the Governor daily persecutes us in every imaginable way. I do not mention all the circumstances of this kind that are continually occurring, not because habit has taught me to accommodate myself to them, but, because the vexations that arise from mere ill-nature are but trifles in comparison with the greater miseries which we have to endure....

If I attempt to portray the horrors of my own situation alone, let it be considered that I am exiled, and probably for ever, to a desert rock, two thousand leagues from home, confined in a small prison, beneath a sky, in a climate, and on a soil, totally different from those of my native country. I am hastening to a premature grave, the only probable conclusion of my misery. Bereft of my wife, children, and friends, who, though they still live, may be said to be no longer in the same world with me; shut out from all communication with mankind, I deplore the recollection of family affections, and the charms of friendship and society.... Certainly, there is no man, whatever be his country or his opinions, but must commiserate my lot.... But, in a moment, I can reverse the picture, and my situation will appear an enviable one!...

Where is the heart that does not beat at the recollection of the achievements of Alexander and CÆsar? Who can approach the relics of Charlemagne without emotion? How happy should we be could we recal the words, the accents, of Henry IV.! Thus, when oppressed by mental dejection, when I feel the necessity of rousing my drooping spirits, while my heart is overflowing with these sensations, and my mind filled with these ideas, I exclaim: I possess all this, and more than this! Here, I am not surrounded by mere illusions and historical recollections; I am in actual contact with the living man who has accomplished so many prodigies. Every day, every moment, I may contemplate the features of him who, with a glance, ordered battles, and decided the fate of empires. I may gaze on the brow that is adorned with the laurels of Rivoli, Marengo, Austerlitz, Wagram, Jena, and Friedland. I may presume to touch the hand that has wielded so many sceptres, and distributed so many crowns; which seized the enemy’s colours at Arcole and Lodi; and which, on a solemn occasion, surrendered into the hands of an afflicted wife the only proofs of her husband’s guilt. I hear the voice of him who, when addressing his troops, in sight of the Egyptian pyramids, said, “My lads, from the summits of those monuments, forty centuries look down upon us!” who, halting and uncovering before a column of wounded Austrian soldiers, exclaimed, “Honour and respect to the unfortunate brave.” I converse, almost familiarly, with the Monarch who ruled Europe; whose pastime was the embellishment of our cities, and the prosperity of our provinces; who raised us to so high a rank in the estimation of nations; and who wafted our glory to the skies!... I see him, I hear him speak, I attend on him, and, perhaps, even help to console him!... Can I then lay claim to pity? On the contrary, will not thousands envy my lot? Who can boast of possessing so many sources of happiness, in circumstances similar to ours?

14th.—The Emperor sent for me about six o’clock. He informed me that he had just been dictating a chapter on maritime rights. He spoke to me of some other works he had in view. I ventured to remind him of the fourteen paragraphs which he had already planned, and to which I alluded on a former occasion. He seemed pleased that I had mentioned the circumstance, and assured me that he would, some day, carry his design into execution.

He read and corrected the valuable notes which he had dictated to the Grand Marshal on ancient and modern warfare, the different plans of composing and regulating armies, &c. He afterwards entered into conversation, and, among other things, said, “No series of great actions is the mere work of chance and fortune; it is always the result of reflection and genius. Great men rarely fail in the most perilous undertakings. Look at Alexander, CÆsar, Hannibal, the great Gustavus, and others; they always succeeded. Were they great men merely because they were fortunate? No; but because, being great men, they possessed the art of commanding fortune. When we come to inquire into the causes of their success, we are astonished to find that they did every thing to obtain it.

“Alexander, when scarcely beyond the age of boyhood, with a mere handful of brave troops, conquered a quarter of the globe. But was this achievement the result of a mere accidental irruption, a sort of unexpected deluge? No; all was profoundly calculated, boldly executed, and prudently managed. Alexander proved himself at once a distinguished warrior, politician, and legislator. Unfortunately, on attaining the zenith of glory and success, his head was turned, and his heart corrupted. He commenced his career with the mind of Trajan; but he closed it with the heart of Nero, and the manners of Heliogabalus.” The Emperor here described the campaigns of Alexander in such a manner as enabled me to view the subject in a totally new light.

Alluding to CÆsar, the Emperor remarked that he, the reverse of Alexander, had commenced his career at an advanced period of life; that his youth had been passed in indolence and vice; but that he had ultimately evinced the most active and elevated mind. He thought him one of the most amiable characters in history. “CÆsar,” observed he, “overcame the Gauls, and the laws of his country. But his great warlike achievements must not be attributed merely to chance and fortune.” Here he analyzed the victories of CÆsar, as he had done those of Alexander.

“Hannibal,” continued the Emperor, “is perhaps the most surprisingsurprising character of any, from the intrepidity, confidence, and grandeur, evinced in all his enterprises. At the age of twenty-six, he conceived what is scarcely conceivable, and executed what must have been looked upon as impossible. Renouncing all communication with his country, he marched through hostile or unknown nations, which he was obliged to attack and subdue. He crossed the Pyrenees and the Alps, which were presumed to be impassable, and descended upon Italy, sacrificing the half of his army for the mere acquisition of his field of battle, the mere right of fighting. He occupied and governed Italy for the space of sixteen years, being several times within a hair’s breadth of possessing himself of Rome, and only relinquished his prey when his enemies, profiting by the lesson he had set them, went to attack the Carthaginian territory. Can it be supposed that Hannibal’s glorious career and achievements were the mere result of chance, and fortune’s favours? Certainly, Hannibal must have been endowed with great vigour of mind, and he must also have possessed a vast consciousness of his own skill in the art of war, when, being interrogated by his youthful conqueror, he hesitated not to place himself, though subdued, next in rank to Alexander and Pyrrhus, whom he esteemed as the first of warriors.

“All the great Captains of antiquity,” continued Napoleon, “and those who in modern times have successfully trodden in their steps, performed vast achievements, only by conforming with the rules and principles of the art; that is to say, by correct combinations, and by justly comparing the relation between means and consequences, efforts and obstacles. They succeeded only by the strict observance of these rules, whatever may have been the boldness of their enterprises, or the extent of the advantages gained. They invariably practised war as a science. Thus they have become our great models, and it is only by closely imitating them that we can hope to approach them.

“My greatest successes have been ascribed merely to good fortune; and my reverses will no doubt be imputed to my faults. But if I should write an account of my campaigns, it will be seen that, in both cases, my reason and faculties were exercised in conformity with principles.”

It is to be hoped that the Emperor will execute the idea of writing his campaigns. How invaluable would be Napoleon’s Commentaries!

The Emperor analyzed the characters of Gustavus-Adolphus and CondÉ: with the latter, he said, science seemed to be instinctive, nature having created him with maturity of intellect. Turenne, on the contrary, had perfected his talent by dint of pains and study. I remarked that Turenne had formed no pupils, while CondÉ had left many distinguished ones behind him. “That was the mere caprice of chance,” replied the Emperor; “the contrary ought to have happened. But it is not always in the master’s power to form good pupils; nature must lend her aid: the seed must be sown in a fertile soil.” He made many remarks on EugÈne, Marlborough, Vendome, &c. Frederick the Great, he said, was in all respects a super-excellent tactician, and possessed the art of rendering his troops absolute machines. “How often,” said he, “men’s characters prove to be totally different from what their early actions indicate! Do they themselves know what they really are? Frederick,” continued he, “at the commencement of his career, fled from his own victory; and, certainly the whole of his subsequent history proves him to have been the most intrepid, most tenacious, and coolest of men.”

After dinner, the Emperor, who was pleased with the subject of the dictations and conversation in which he had been engaged during the morning, discoursed on the same topics for nearly an hour; discussing in the most masterly and ingenious way a variety of points connected with the art of war.

Alluding to the great difference between ancient and modern warfare, he observed: “The invention of fire-arms has wrought a total change. This great discovery operates entirely to the advantage of assailants, though many moderns have maintained the contrary opinion. The corporeal strength of the ancients,” added he, “was in harmony with their offensive and defensive weapons; ours, on the other hand, are entirely beyond our sphere.”

Should the Emperor leave behind him his thoughts on these points, they will be truly invaluable. In course of the evening, he pronounced his opinion on several military subjects; sometimes embracing the highest questions, and sometimes descending into the minutest details.

He remarked that war frequently depended on accident, and that, though a commander ought to be guided by general principles, yet he should never lose sight of any thing that may enable him to profit by accidental circumstances. The vulgar call good-fortune that which, on the contrary, is produced by the calculations of genius.

In the present mode of military operations, he thought it advisable that greater consistency should be given to the third rank of infantry, or, that it should be suppressedsuppressed; and he explained his reasons for this.

He was of opinion that infantry charged by cavalry should fire from a distance, instead of firing closely, according to the present practice. He proved the advantage of this method.

He observed that infantry and cavalry left to themselves, without artillery, could procure no decisive result; but that, with the aid of artillery, all things else being equal, cavalry might destroy infantry. He clearly explained these facts, and many others besides.

He added that artillery really decided the fate of armies and nations; that men now fought with blows of cannon balls, as they fought with blows of fists; for in battle, as in a siege, the art consisted in making numerous discharges converge on one and the same point; that, amidst the conflict, he who had sufficient address to direct a mass of artillery suddenly and unexpectedly on any particular point of the enemy’s force was sure of the victory. This, he said, had been his grand secret and his grand plan of tactics.

The Emperor conceived that it would be impossible to form a perfect army, without a revolution in the manners and education of the soldier, and perhaps even the officer. This could not be accomplished with our ovens, magazines, commissaries, and carriages. There could be no perfect army, until, in imitation of the Romans, the soldier should receive his supply of corn, grind it in his hand-mill, and bake his bread himself. We could not hope to possess an army, until we should abolish all our monstrous train of civil attendants.

“I contemplated all these changes,” said he, “but they never could have been put in practice, except during profound peace. An army in a state of war would infallibly have rebelled against such innovations.”

I will here insert some notes which I have collected at various times, relative to the new plans projected by the Emperor, not only in the army, but on many other points essential to social organization.

The Emperor often observed that he intended, on the establishment of peace, to induce the Powers of Europe to make an immense reduction in their standing armies. He wished that each sovereign should limit himself to his guard, as the skeleton of the army, to be raised in case of necessity. He intended, should he have found himself compelled to keep up a numerous army in time of peace, to employ the troops in public works, and to have disciplined and provisioned them on a peculiar plan.

He said he had found that, in his plans of campaigns and expeditions, the greatest difficulty arose from the modern method of provisioning troops; by which it was necessary first to find corn, then to get it ground, and next to have the flour made into bread. The Roman custom, which he highly approved, and which he had intended to introduce wholly or in part, would have obviated all these inconveniences. “By the adoption of the ancient plan,” said he, “an army might have marched to the end of the world. But, it would require time to bring about such a transition. It could not have been accomplished by a mere order of the day. I had long entertained the idea of such a change; but however great might have been my power, I should never have attempted to introduce it by force. There is no subordination with empty stomachs. Such an object could only have been effected in time of peace, and by insensible degrees: I should have accomplished it by creating new military manners.”

The Emperor constantly insisted on subjecting the whole nation to the laws of the conscription. “I am inexorable on the subject of exemption,” said he, one day in the Council of State;—“it would be criminal. How could I reconcile it to my conscience to expose the life of one man for the advantage of another? I do not even think I would exempt my own son.” On another occasion, he said, “The conscription is the everlasting root of a nation, its moral purification, the real foundation of its habits. By means of the conscription,” he added, “the nation was classed according to its real interests for defence abroad, and tranquillity at home. Organized, built up in this way, the French people might have defied the world, and might with justice have renewed the saying of the proud Gauls:—If the sky should fall, we will prop it up with our lances.”

According to Napoleon’s plans, the conscription, so far from impeding education, would have been the means of promoting it. He intended to have established, in each regiment, a school for the commencement or continuation of instruction of every kind, either in science, the liberal arts, or mere mechanics. “And nothing would have been so easy,” he remarked. “The principle once adopted, we should have seen each regiment supplied with all that was necessary, out of its own ranks. And what advantages would have accrued to the mass of society by the dispersion of these young men, with their acquired knowledge, even had it been merely elementary, and the habits necessarily produced by it!”

The Emperor one day, in the course of conversation, observed that, if he had had leisure there were few institutions in which he would not have made improvements. He dwelt on the evils arising from lawsuits, which, he said, were an absolute leprosy, a social cancer. “My code,” said he, “had singularly diminished lawsuits, by placing numerous causes within the comprehension of every individual. But there still remained much for the legislator to accomplish. Not that he could hope to prevent men from quarrelling: this they have done in all ages; but he might have prevented a third party in society from living upon the quarrels of the other two and even stirring up disputes to promote their own interest. It was, therefore, my intention to establish the rule that lawyers should never receive fees except when they gained causes. Thus, what litigations would have been prevented! On the first examination of a cause, a lawyer would have rejected it, had it been at all doubtful. There would have been no fear that a man, living by his labour, would have undertaken to conduct a lawsuit, from mere motives of vanity; and if he had, he would himself have been the only sufferer in case of failure. But my idea was opposed by a multitude of objections, and as I had no time to lose, I postponed the further consideration of the subject. Yet I am still convinced,” added he, “that the scheme might, with certain modifications, have been turned to the best account.”

When speaking of the clergy, the Emperor remarked that he intended to have rendered curates a very important and useful class of men. “The more enlightened they are,” said he, “the less will they be inclined to abuse their ministry.” Therefore, in addition to their theological studies, he wished them to acquire a knowledge of agriculture and the elements of medicine and law. “Thus,” said he, “dogmatism and controversy, the battle-horse and the arms of fools and fanatics, would gradually have become more and more rare in the pulpit, whence would have been promulgated the doctrines of pure morality, always pleasing, eloquent, and persuasive. As men usually love to discourse on what they know, the clergy would have instructed the peasantry in their agricultural labours, counselled them against chicanery, and given advice to the sick. Such pastors would have been real blessings to their flocks; and, as they would have been allowed a liberal stipend, they would have enjoyed high consideration: they would have respected themselves, and would have been respected by all. They would have possessed the power of feudal lords, and they might, without danger, have exercised all their influence. A curate would have been a natural justice of peace, a true moral chief, to whom the direction of the population might have been safely intrusted, because he would himself have been dependent on the Government for his appointment and salary. If to all this be added the study and privation necessary for the calling, and supposing the individuals to be possessed of good qualities of heart and mind, it must be confessed that pastors, thus constituted, would have produced a revolution in society highly advantageous to the cause of morality.”

I recollect having heard the Emperor, in the Council of State, declaim against the perquisites of ministers of the Gospel, and point out the indecorum of their trafficking, as he said, with sacred, and yet indispensable, objects. He therefore proposed putting an end to this practice. “By rendering the acts of religion gratuitous,” he observed, “we shall make their dignity, beneficence, and charity more conspicuous; and confer a great benefit on the poor. Nothing would be easier than to substitute legal imposts for these perquisites. Every one is born, many marry, and all die; and yet births, marriages, and deaths, are three great subjects of religious jobbing, which, in my opinion, are particularly objectionable, and which I would wish to abolish. Since these are matters which concern all equally, why not place them under a special impost, or include them among the subjects of general taxation?” This proposal had no result.

I also recollect having heard the Emperor suggest that all public functionaries, and men employed under Government, even officers in the army, should themselves form a fund for their future pensions, by a slight deduction from their annual salaries. “Thus,” said he, “the future support of these individuals would no longer be an object of solicitation or a favour; it would be a right. The deductions made from their salaries would be thrown into a sinking fund, liable to this application. It would be a certain property, which they might regard as their own, and upon which they might draw, without opposition, on retiring from the public service.” It was urged, in objection, that there were incomes, those of military officers in particular, that would not admit of deduction.—“Well,” replied the Emperor, “I will make up the deficiency, I will add whatever is necessary for the deduction.”—“But,”“But,” it was asked, “what end will that answer? If we have to pay the same amount, where will be the economy? where will be the advantage?”—“The advantage,” replied the Emperor, “will be in the difference between certainty and uncertainty; between the settled course of the treasury, which would no longer have occasion to concern itself about these accidents, and the tranquillity of citizens, who would thus possess their guarantee.”

The Emperor warmly defended this idea, and adverted to it oftener than once; it however produced no result. I have already remarked that I have often known him to enter upon extempore discussions in this way, and even to comment on others after they were printed.

The following brief quotation will afford an idea of the labours and activity of the Emperor’s reign:—“It has been calculated that Napoleon’s Government, in the space of fourteen years and five months, presents, 61,139 deliberations of the Council of State, on different subjects!”^[14]

I have often heard Napoleon repeat that he wished for the establishment of an European Institute and European prizes, to superintend and stimulate the learned societies of every country.

He would have wished to fix throughout Europe, uniformity of coins, weights, and measures, and also uniformity of legislation. “Why,” said he, “might not my Code Napoleon have served as the groundwork for a European Code, and my Imperial University have been the basis of a European University? Thus the whole population of Europe would have become one and the same family; and every man, while he travelled abroad, would still have found himself at home.”

Various other subjects, of the above nature, were canvassed at different times; but I refrain from noticing them, as my memory does not enable me to enter into details.

ALARMING CHANGE IN THE EMPEROR.—THE GOVERNOR SURROUNDS US WITH FORTIFICATIONS.—PANIC TERRORS OF SIR HUDSON LOWE.—GENERAL LAMARQUE.—MADAME RECAMIER AND A PRUSSIAN PRINCE.

15th.—About three o’clock, the Emperor, with whom I breakfasted this morning, sent for me. He wished to take the air, and he endeavoured to walk as far as the wood; but the air was too keen for him. He then called at the Grand Marshal’s, and he sat for a considerable time in an arm-chair, apparently quite exhausted. We remarked the colour of his countenance, how much he had fallen away, and his evident debility; and we were much distressed at the change observable in him.

As we passed through the wood, the Emperor cast his eyes on the fortifications which were surrounding us; and he could not forbear smiling at these useless and absurd works. He remarked that the ground in our neighbourhood had been entirely disfigured by the removal of the kind of turf with which it was covered, and which had been carried away for the purpose of raising banks. In fact, for the last two months, the Governor has been incessantly digging ditches, constructing parapets, erecting palisades, &c. He has quite blockaded us in Longwood, and the stable at this moment presents every appearance of a redoubt. We are at a loss to guess where will be the advantage equivalent to the expense and labour bestowed on these works, which by turns excite the ill-humour and ridicule of the soldiers and Chinese, who are employed upon them, and who now call Longwood and its stable, by the names of Fort Hudson and Fort Lowe. We are assured that Sir Hudson Lowe often starts from his sleep to devise new measures of security. “Surely,” said the Emperor, “this seems something like madness. Why cannot the man sleep quietly, and let us alone? Has he not sense enough to perceive that the security of our local situation here is sufficient to remove all his panic terrors?”—“Sire,” said an individual present, “he cannot forget Capri, which, with 2000 men, thirty pieces of cannon, and perched among the clouds, was taken by 1200 Frenchmen, commanded by the brave Lamarque, who could only reach Sir Hudson Lowe by the help of a triple escalade.”—“Well,” said the Emperor, “this only proves that our Governor is a better jailor than general.”

For some time past, I have felt seriously alarmed respecting the health of my son. The pains of which he formerly complained have been succeeded by violent palpitations, attended by fainting fits; and he is frequently obliged to rise during the night, to relieve himself by walking about, or assuming some particular position. Dr. O’Meara thought he perceived symptoms of aneurism, and considered him to be in a dangerous state. I requested the chief medical officer. Dr. Baxter, to hold a consultation with Dr. O’Meara. The result greatly relieved my anxiety; for his state was declared to have nothing in it very alarming.

During the conversations of the day, the Emperor alluded to Madame de StaËl, of whom, however, he said nothing new, except mentioning some letters which had been examined by the police, and which related to Madame Recamier and a Prussian Prince.

“This correspondence,” said the Emperor, “presented unequivocal proofs of the influence of Madame Recamier’s charms, and the high regard which the Prince entertained for her. The letters contained nothing less than offers or promises of marriage on his part.”

The following is an explanation of this affair. The beautiful Madame Recamier, whose pure reputation stood unassailed during those stormy times in which few escaped censure, was residing with Madame de StaËl, to whom she had heroically devoted herself, when one of the Prussian Princes, who had been made prisoner at Eylau, and who was proceeding to Italy by Napoleon’s permission, alighted at the castle of Coppet, with the intention of resting only for a few hours. Here, however, he was detained during the whole of the summer by the charms of Madame Recamier, who was voluntarily sharing the exile of her friend. This lady, and the young Prince, both considered themselves as the victims of Napoleon, and their common hatred of him, whom they looked upon as their oppressor, probably engendered the interest which they mutually conceived for each other. Inspired with an ardent passion, the Prince, in spite of the difficulties which his exalted rank naturally suggested, conceived the idea of marrying Madame Recamier. He communicated his design to Madame de StaËl, whose poetic imagination prompted her to favour a scheme that was calculated to diffuse a sort of romantic interest over Coppet. The Prince was recalled to Berlin, but absence produced no change in his sentiments. He still ardently prosecuted his suit; but Madame Recamier constantly declined this unexpected elevation, either from natural generosity of feeling, or from her Catholic prejudice against divorce.

To this circumstance we are indebted for the picture of Corinne, which is accounted one of the most original creations of Gerard’s pencil. The Prince ordered the picture as a compliment to Madame Recamier.

Having reverted to Madame de StaËl, I will take this opportunity of observing that since the publication of the preceding parts of my Journal, I have been visited by some of the most intimate friends of that celebrated woman. These individuals have assured me that Madame de StaËl has been often represented to have employed expressions in reference to Napoleon, of which she was wholly incapable,—for example, the phrase Robespierre on horseback, which they said they could take upon themselves conscientiously to disavow. I have moreover been informed that Madame de StaËl was often more favourable to Napoleon in her private conversation than in her writings, which, it must be confessed, are, in all that relates to the Emperor, embittered by a spirit of malignity and resentment. One of her friends assured me that he had been very much gratified on finding it mentioned in my Journal that Napoleon at St. Helena had compared Madame de StaËl at once to Armida and Clorinda I was informed that Madame de StaËl, on her part, at the time of her enthusiasm for the young General of the army of Italy, had compared him at once to Scipio and Tancred; because, as she said, he combined the simple virtues of the one with the brilliant achievements of the other.

After dinner, the Emperor ordered his favourite Racine to be brought out, and he read to us some of the finest passages in Iphigenia, Mithridates, and Bajazet. “Though Racine has produced master-pieces in themselves,” said he, “yet he has diffused over them a perpetual air of insipidity. Love is eternally introduced, with its tone of languor and its tiresome accompaniments. But these faults must not be attributed entirely to Racine, but to the manners of the age in which he wrote. Love was then, and at even a later period, the whole business of life with every one. This is always the case when society is in a state of idleness. As for us,” said he, “our thoughts have been cruelly turned to other subjects, by the great events of the revolution.”

The Emperor likewise condemned, by the way, the whole of the celebrated plan of campaign of Mithridates. He remarked that it might be fine as a narrative; but that it was absurd as a conception.

PORTRAITS OF THE PRESENT ENGLISH MINISTERS.—THE EMPEROR CONDEMNS ALL MINISTRIES.—HONOURABLE EXCEPTIONS.—NAPOLEON’S SENTIMENTS FOR THE INDIVIDUALS WHO SERVED HIM.

16th.—I found the Emperor amusing himself by looking over an English publication, a kind of political almanack. Alluding to the members of the English Ministry who were mentioned in the work, he said to me: “Do you know any of them? What was the general opinion of them, when you were in England?”—“Sire,” I replied, “it is so long since I left England that nearly all who are now distinguished in the ministry were then only commencing their career. At that time none of them had come forward on the scene.”

The Emperor, having mentioned Lord Liverpool, said: “He appears to me to be the most worthy man among them. I have heard a great deal of good of him. He seems to have some feeling of propriety and decorum. I have no objection to a man being my enemy: every one has his own business and his own duties to perform; but I have certainly a right to be indignant at unworthy conduct and measures.” I mentioned to the Emperor that, when I was in England, Lord Liverpool’s father, Mr. Jenkinson, who successively became Lord Hawkesbury, and Lord Liverpool, had made his political fortune. He was said to have been a very good kind of man, and a private friend of George III.; he was distinguished for assiduity, and particularly directed his attention to diplomatic documents.

The Emperor next mentioned Lord Sidmouth. “I am told,” said he, “that he too is a worthy man enough: but he possesses no great share of understanding. He is one of those honest blockheads who, with the utmost sincerity, concur in all sorts of mischief.”

“Sire,” said I, “in my time, Lord Sidmouth, under the name of Mr. Addington, was a member of the House of Commons, and was a man generally esteemed. He was said to be the creature of Mr. Pitt, who was understood to have appointed Addington as his successor, in order to ensure to himself the means of returning to the ministry whenever he should think fit. The public were certainly greatly astonished to see Pitt succeeded by Mr. Addington; as the post was considered to be very far beyond his talents. One of the English opposition papers, alluding to Mr. Addington, quoted the remark made by a philosopher (Locke, I believe), who says that the mind of a child is a blank sheet of paper, on which nature has yet written nothing: and the Journal in question humorously observed that when nature wrote upon the blank sheet of the Doctor (the nickname then given to Mr. Addington), it must needs be confessed, she left plenty of margin.”

“Well,” resumed the Emperor, “what do you know of that sad fellow, into whose keeping we have been delivered up—that Lord Bathurst?” “Absolutely nothing, Sire,” I replied, “either of his origin, his person, or his character.”—“For my part,” said he, with some degree of warmth, “I have no opportunity of knowing him, except by his conduct towards me; and in judging from that, I hold him to be the vilest the basest the most cowardly of men. The brutality of his orders, the coarseness of his language, the choice of his agent, all authorize me to make this declaration. An executioner, such as he has sent hither, is not easily found. Such a selection could not be made at random. He must have been sought for, tried, judged, and instructed. Certainly, this, in my opinion, is sufficient to justify the moral condemnation of the man who could stoop to so base a course. By the arm which he moves it is easy to guess what must be his heart!”

I must confess that, yielding to feelings of delicacy, I had at first almost prevailed on myself to suppress or to soften down the expressions above quoted: but on the other hand, certain scruples deterred me from doing so. The shade of him who was so deeply injured is, thought I, at this moment hovering above me, and seems to say:—“Since you make me speak, at least preserve my words.” Justice asserts her rights. Men, in the enjoyment of honours and powers must feel it incumbent on them to answer charges that are brought against them. Let the accused justify himself:—if he can, so much the better.

Speaking of Lord Castlereagh, the Emperor said:—“This man governs all the rest, and rules even the Prince himself, by dint of impudence and intrigue. Supported by a majority of his own creating, he is always ready to contend, with the utmost effrontery, against reason, law, justice, and truth. No falsehood staggers him: he stops at nothing, well knowing that he can always command votes to applaud and legalize whatever he does. He has completely sacrificed his country, and is daily degrading her by acting in opposition to her policy, doctrines, and interests: in short, he has entirely delivered her up to the Continent. The situation of England is becoming worse and worse. Heaven knows how she will extricate herself!”

“Lord Castlereagh,” continued he, “is, I am informed, looked upon, even in England, as a man politically immoral. He commenced his career by an act of political apostacy, which, though common enough in his country, nevertheless, always leaves an indelible stain. He entered upon public life as an advocate of the people, and he has finally become the engine of power and despotism. If all that is said of him be correct, he must be execrated by his countrymen, the Irish, whom he has betrayed, and by the English, who may justly regard him as the destroyer of their domestic liberties, and foreign interests.

“He has had the impudence to bring forward in parliament, as authentic facts, statements which he knew to be false, and which probably he himself fabricated: and yet, on the authority of these documents, Murat’s dethronement was decided. Lord Castlereagh makes it his business to belie himself daily in parliament and in public meetings, by putting into my mouth language calculated to prejudice me in the eyes of the English, though he is well aware that he is making false assertions. This conduct is the more base; since he himself withholds from me the power of refuting him.

“Lord Castlereagh is the disciple of Pitt, of whom he probably thinks himself the equal, though he is merely the ape of that distinguished statesmen. He has incessantly pursued the plans and plots of his master against France; but even here pertinacity and obstinacy were perhaps his only good qualities. But Pitt had grand views: with him his country’s interest took place of every consideration. He possessed talent and ingenuity; and from England, he moved the lever by which he ruled and influenced the continental sovereigns at will. Castlereagh, on the contrary, substituting intrigue for ingenuity, and subsidies for genius, is regardless of his country’s interest, and has incessantly employed the credit and influence of the continental sovereigns merely to confirm and perpetuate his own power at home. However, such is the course of things in this world, that Pitt with all his talent, constantly failed, while the incapable Castlereagh has been completely successful. Oh, blindness of fortune!

“Castlereagh has proved himself entirely the man of the continent. When master of Europe, he satisfied all the monarchs of the continent, and only forgot his own country. His conduct has been so prejudicial to the national interests, so incompatible with the doctrines of his country, and altogether presents so much the appearance of inconsistency, that it is difficult to conceive how so wise a people as the English can allow themselves to be governed by such a fool!

“He adopts legitimacy as the basis of his creed, and wishes to establish it as a political dogma, while that principle would sap the very foundation of the throne of his own sovereign. Besides, he acknowledges Bernadotte in opposition to the legitimate Gustavus IV., who sacrificed himself for England; and he acknowledges the usurper Ferdinand VII., to the detriment of his venerable father, Charles IV.

“He and the Allies establish, as another fundamental basis, the restoration of the old order of things, the redress of what they term past injuries, injustice, and depredation; finally, the return of political morality. Yet Castlereagh scrupled not to sacrifice the republic of Venice and Genoa, by abandoning the former to Austria, and annexing the latter to Piedmont. He enriched Russia by the possession of Poland. He robbed the King of Saxony, for the advantage of Prussia, who can no longer afford any aid to England. He separated Norway from Denmark, while, had the latter power been left more independent of Russia, she might have surrendered to England the key of the Baltic; and Norway was transferred to Sweden, which, by the loss of Finland and the Islands of the Baltic, has fallen entirely under the subjection of Russia. Finally, by a violation of the first principles of general policy, he neglected, in his all-powerful situation, to restore the independence of Poland, thereby exposing Constantinople, endangering the whole of Europe, and preparing a thousand troubles in Germany.

“I need say nothing of the monstrous inconsistencyinconsistency of a Minister, the representative of a nation pre-eminently free, restoring Italy to the yoke of slavery, keeping Spain in a state of bondage, and exerting every effort to forge fetters for the whole continent. Does he think that liberty is only proper for the English, and that the rest of Europe is not fit to enjoy it?^[15] But even supposing him to entertain this opinion, how does he explain his conduct with regard to his own countrymen, whom he is daily depriving of some of their rights? For example: the suspension of the “He proves himself to be the partisan, the obsequious associate of the Holy Alliance,—that mysterious alliance, of which I cannot guess either the meaning or the object, which can afford neither utility nor advantage. Can it be directed against the Turks? It would then be for the English to oppose it. Can it really have for its object the maintenance of a general peace? That is a chimera, by which it is impossible diplomatic cabinets can be duped. With them, alliances can only be formed for the purpose of opposition or counterpoise. They cannot all be allied together. I cannot therefore comprehend this Holy Alliance, except by regarding it as a league of sovereigns against subjects; but, in that case, what has Castlereagh to do with it? If it be so, will he not, ought he not, one day, to pay dearly for his conduct?

“I once had Lord Castlereagh in my power,” said the Emperor. “He was intriguing at Chatillon, when, during one of our momentary successes, my troops passed beyond the seat of Congress, which was, by this means, surrounded. The Prime Minister of England maintained no public character, and was without the law of nations.

“He was aware of his embarrassing situation, and manifested the utmost uneasiness at thus finding himself in my power. I intimated to him that he might set his mind at rest, as he was at perfect liberty. I did this on my own account, and not on his, for certainly I had no reason to expect any good from him. However, some time afterwards, he evinced his gratitude in a very peculiar way. When he saw me make choice of the Isle of Elba, he caused England to be proposed as my asylum, and employed all his eloquence and subtlety to induce me to make choice of that country as my place of residence. Now, however, I may justly entertain suspicion of the offers of Castlereagh, and doubtless, he already meditated the horrible treatment which he is at this moment exercising towards me!

“It was a misfortune for England that her Prime Minister treated personally with the continental Sovereigns: it was a violation of the spirit of the British constitution. The English at first felt their pride flattered, at seeing their representative dictate laws to Europe; but they have now abundant cause to repent, since the result has proved that, on the contrary, he only stipulated for embarrassment, degradation and loss.

“It is an undoubted fact, that Castlereagh might have obtained all; while, on the contrary, from blindness, incapacity, or perfidy, he sacrificed every thing. When seated at the banquet of Monarchs, he blushed to dictate peace like a merchant, and determined to treat liberally like a lord. Thus he gained something in point of vanity; and, it may be presumed, he lost nothing in point of interest: his country alone suffered, and will long continue to suffer.

“And the continental Sovereigns are also likely to repent of having permitted their Prime Ministers to come into personal contact with each other. The result seems to have been that these Premiers have created among themselves a sort of secondary sovereignty, which they mutually guarantee to each other; and, there is good reason to suppose that it is accompanied by subsidies furnished with the knowledge of their respective Sovereigns. This business may be very easily managed; nothing can be more simple, and, at the same time, more ingenious. In fixing the secret service money, it is very easy to mention that such a one on the continent has been very useful, that he may still continue to be so, and, therefore, that it is proper to make an acknowledgment for his services. This individual, in his turn, may represent to his Government that some man or other abroad has rendered important services and even compromised his own interests, and that consequently he should not be forgotten. It was probably some such arrangements as these that occasioned an illustrious personage at Vienna to exclaim, in a moment of vexation, Such a one costs me the eyes in my head! Doubtless, these disgraceful schemes and transactions will one day come to light. We shall then see what enormous fortunes have thus been squandered and swallowed up. They will perhaps hereafter be recorded in new letters of Barillon; but nothing will be unfolded, no characters will be disgraced, because contemporaries will have anticipated all.”

After this long and energetic sally, in which, I may say, I for the first time heard Napoleon express himself privately, with such warmth and bitterness against these individuals of whom he had personally cause to complain he was silent for a few moments. Then resuming, he said, “And Lord Castlereagh is artful enough to support himself entirely on Lord Wellington (whose name the Emperor, at the moment, found among the members of the English Ministry). Wellington has become his creature! Can it be possible that the modern Marlborough has joined the train of a Castlereagh, and yoked his victories to the turpitude of a political mountebank? It is inconceivable! Can Wellington endure such a thought? Has not his mind risen to a level with his success?...”

I had remarked that, in general, the Emperor disliked to speak of Lord Wellington. He seemed carefully to avoid pronouncing his opinion on him; feeling, no doubt, the impropriety of publicly depreciating the General who had triumphed over him. On the present occasion, however, he yielded, without reserve, to the full expression of his feelings. The consciousness of the indignities that are heaped upon him seemed, at this moment, to rise forcibly in his mind. Though usually so calm and unresenting towards those who had done him the greatest injuries, he now evinced a degree of warmth which I had never before witnessed in him. His gestures, his features, his tone of voice, were all expressive of the utmost indignation. I listened to him with astonishment.

“I have been told,” said he, “that it is through Wellington that I am here; and I believe it.^[17] It is conduct well worthy of him, who, in defiance of a solemn capitulation, suffered Ney to perish;—Ney, with whom he had so often been engaged on the field of battle! For my own part, it is very certain that I gave him a terrible quarter of an hour. This usually constitutes a claim on noble minds; his was incapable of feeling it. My fall, and the lot that might have been reserved for me, afforded him the opportunity of reaping higher glory than he has gained by all his victories. But he did not understand this. Well, at any rate, he ought to be heartily grateful to old Blucher: had it not been for him, I know not where his Grace might have been to-day; but I know that I, at least, should not have been at St. Helena. Wellington’s troops were admirable, but his plans were despicable; or, I should rather say, that he formed none at all. He had placed himself in a situation in which it was impossible he could form any; and, by a curious chance, this very circumstance saved him. If he could have commenced a retreat, he must infallibly have been lost. He certainly remained master of the field of battle; but was his success the result of his skill? He has reaped the fruit of a brilliant victory; but did his genius prepare it for him? His glory is wholly negative. His faults were enormous. He, the European Generalissimo, to whose hands so many interests were intrusted, and having before him an enemy so prompt and daring as myself, left his forces dispersed, and slumbered in a capital until he was surprised. And yet such is the power of fatality! In the course of three days, I three times saw the destiny of France and of Europe escape my grasp.

“In the first place, but for the treason of a General, who deserted from our ranks, and betrayed my designs, I should have dispersed and destroyed all the enemy’s detached parties before they could have combined themselves into corps.

“Next, had it not been for the unusual hesitations of Ney at Quatre-Bras, I should have annihilated the whole English army.

“Finally, on my right, the extraordinary manoeuvres of Grouchy, instead of securing victory, completed my ruin, and hurled France into the abyss.

“No,” continued he, “Wellington possesses only a special kind of talent: Berthier also had his! In this he perhaps excels. But he has no ingenuity; fortune has done more for him than he has done for her. How different from Marlborough, of whom he seems to consider himself as the rival and equal. Marlborough, gained battles, ruled cabinets and guided statesmen; as for Wellington, he has only shewn himself capable of following the views and plans of Castlereagh. Madame de StaËl said of him that, when out of the field of battle, he had not two ideas. The saloons of Paris, so distinguished for delicacy and correctness of taste, at once decided that Madame de StaËl was in the right: and the French Plenipotentiary at Vienna confirmed that opinion. His victories, their result, and their influence, will rise in history; but his name will fall, even during his lifetime.”

Alluding to ministries in general, but particularly to collective ministries, the intrigues, the great and petty passions that agitate the men who compose them, the Emperor said, “After all, they are only so many plagues. No one escapes the contagion. A man may be honest when he enters a ministry; but it seldom happens that he retires from one without having forfeited his purity of character. I may perhaps except only two: mine, and that of the United States—mine, because my Ministers were merely my men of business, and I alone stood responsible; and that of the United States, because there Ministers are men of public credit, always upright, always vigilant, and always rigid.” He concluded with the following remarkable words:—

“I believe that no Sovereign was ever surrounded by more faithful servants than I was towards the close of my reign. And if I did not obtain due credit for the selection I had made, it was because the French are too apt to murmur incessantly.” He then took a review of his principal Ministers, counting them on his fingers.

“My two great dignitaries,” said he, “CambacÉrÈs and Lebrun, were distinguished men, and perfectly well disposed. Bassano and Caulaincourt, two men remarkable for sincerity and rectitude. MolÉ, whose name reflects honour on the French Magistracy, is probably destined to act a part in future ministries. Montalivet was an honest man; the ministry of DecrÈs was pure and rigorous; Gaudin was distinguished for steady and well directed labour; Mollien possessed vast perspicuity and promptitude; and all my Councillors of State were prudent and assiduous! All these names will remain inseparably connected with mine. What country, what age, ever presented a better composed, or more moral Ministry? Happy the nation that possesses such instruments, and knows how to turn them to good account!... Though I was not given to praise, and though my approbation was in general purely negative, yet I fully appreciated the value of those who served me, and who have everlasting claims on my gratitude. Their number is immense, and the most modest are not the least meritorious. I shall not attempt to name them, because many would have to complain of having been omitted, and such omission might appear like ingratitude on my part!”

THE GENERALS OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.—NAPOLEON THE ADOPTED FATHER OF ONE OF HIS AIDES-DE-CAMP.—SCANDALOUS NOVEL.—NAPOLEON’S DISLIKE OF GAMING.—THE LA ROCHEFOUCAULT FAMILY, &c.

17th.—The Emperor was unwell, and saw nobody during the whole of the day. In the evening he sent for me. I expressed myself very much concerned for the state of his health; but he assured me that he was more indisposed in mind than in body. He began to converse on a variety of subjects, and this seemed to rouse his spirits.

He once more took a review of the Generals of the army of Italy, describing their characters, and quoting many anecdotes respecting them. He spoke of the selfishness of one, of the false pretensions of another, the folly of a third; the depredations committed by some, the good qualities of others, and the important services rendered by all. He dwelt particularly on one, to whom he had been much attached, and whose defection, he said, had proved a severe wound to his heart. The Emperor remarked that, from what he knew of that individual, he was sure he must occasionally suffer deeply from remorse. “Never,” observed he, “was defection more fatal, or more decidedly avowed. It was recorded in the Moniteur, and by his own hand. It was the immediate cause of our disasters, the grave of our power, the cloud of our glory. And yet,” added he, in a tone of affection, “I am convinced that his sentiments are better than his reputation; his heart is superior to his conduct. Of this, he himself appears to be conscious. The newspapers inform us that when, soliciting in vain for the pardon of Lavalette, he exclaimed, with warmth, in reply to the obstacles urged by the Monarch, Sire, have I not given you more than life? We were, it is true,” said the Emperor, “betrayed by others, and in a manner still more vile; but no other act of apostacy was so solemnly recorded by official documents.”

The Emperor then observed that, at an early period of life, he had acted the part of a father to the General above alluded to, who could not enter the royal corps of artillery, and had been obliged to join a provincial regiment. “He was,” said the Emperor, “the nephew of one of my comrades at the school of Brienne, and in the regiment of La FÈre, who, when he emigrated from France, recommended his young relation to my care. This circumstance imposed upon me the obligation of acting the part of his uncle and his father, which I literally did. I took a real interest in his welfare, and felt a pleasure in advancing his fortune. His father was a knight of St. Louis, the proprietor of some iron-works in Burgundy, and a man of considerable fortune.”fortune.”

Napoleon mentioned that, in 1794, as he was returning from the army of Nice to Paris, he visited the father’s Speaking of the manners of Paris, and its immense population, the Emperor adverted to the many evils which he said must inevitably exist in all great capitals, where depravity of every kind is continually stimulated by want, passion, wit, and the facilities afforded by bustle and confusion. He often repeated, that all capitals were so many Babylons. He adduced several proofs of odious libertinism with respect to Paris; and he mentioned that, after he became Emperor, he had perused the most scandalous book that was ever conceived by the most depraved imagination. It was a novel, which, even in the time of the Convention, had proved so offensive to public morals as to occasion the imprisonment of its author, who had continued in confinement ever since, and whom the Emperor believed to be still living. I have forgotten the name of the writer, and it was the first time I had ever heard the production mentioned.

The Emperor said that he had endeavoured, as far as circumstances permitted, to suppress many sources of immorality; but in some instances, he had not had courage to descend into details. For example, he prohibited masked gaming, and even had it in view to prohibit all gaming houses; but when I wished to have the subject thoroughly discussed in my presence, it proved to be a very difficult question. I mentioned that the police had even prohibited us from playing privately in one of the principal houses of the Faubourg St. Germain. The Emperor observed that he had had no idea of this act of tyranny; and yet, as I assured him, it was exercised by FouchÉ in his name. “That may be,” said he, “but I knew nothing of it; and so it was with all the details of the police, high, middling, and low.”

He then questioned me respecting the kind of gaming to which I had just alluded; and observing that, in my replies, I always used the plural we, he interrupted me, saying,—“Were you yourself one of the party? Were you a gamester?”—“Alas! Sire, I unfortunately was. Only at long intervals, it is true. But st¡ll, when the fit seized me, it urged me to excess.”—“I am very glad I knew nothing of it at the time,“ said the Emperor, “otherwise you would have been ruined in my esteem. This circumstance shews how little we knew of each other, and it also proves that you could not have made yourself many enemies; for there were charitable souls about me who would have taken care to inform me of your failing. My prejudice against gaming was well known. A gamester was sure to forfeit my confidence. I had not leisure to enquire whether I was right or wrong; but, whenever I heard that a man was addicted to gaming, I placed no more reliance on him.”

This allusion to the Faubourg St. Germain led us to mention many of the principal names in the capital. The Emperor made some remarks on the different members of the family of La Rochefoucault. He mentioned the lady of honour to the Empress Josephine; her husband, who was ambassador to Vienna and Holland; her brother, the member of the Legislative Body; their father, M. de Liancourt, whom he highly respected; and finally, the daughter whom he had given in marriage to Prince Aldobrandini, brother to Prince Borghese. He repeated that he had once entertained the idea of making her the wife of Ferdinand VII. He also mentioned another, M. de la Rochefoucault, who died in prison at the commencement of his reign, and he asked me what relation he was to the others. I could not inform him. I knew nothing either of the person or the circumstance mentioned by the Emperor.

“He was,” said Napoleon, “the author of a conspiracy against my person, which I never mentioned to you: it just now occurs to my recollection.

“This M. de la Rochefoucault formed in Paris, in behalf of the King, who was then at Mittau, a conspiracy, the first stroke of which was to be the death of the head of the Government. M. de la Rochefoucault ended his days in prison, after a long confinement. Some one having procured a knowledge of this affair, a confidential agent of the police pretended to enter into the conspiracy, and to become one of its most active members. He received his credentials at a 18th,—19th.—The conversation turned on Poland, roused as she had been at the voice of Napoleon. We spoke of the individuals who seemed to have been destined to ascend the throne of that country: each made his own conjectures on this subject. The Emperor remained silent for some time, and at length interrupted us, saying: “Poniatowski was the real King of Poland. He possessed every quality requisite for that high station.” He said no more.

At another moment, the Emperor smiled at the pains that had been taken to obliterate his emblems and devices on the public monuments which he had erected, “They may,” said he, “be withdrawn from the public eye; but they cannot be erased from the page of history, or from the recollection of connoisseurs and artists. I acted differently,” added he; “I respected all the vestiges of royalty that existed when I came into power. I even restored the An individual present remarked that Prince Lucien had manifested precisely the same sentiments. The Palais Royal was assigned as his place of residence on the Emperor’s return in 1815, and, observing, as he ascended the staircase, the groupes of To-day, I have been able to collect but little from the Emperor’s conversation.... I shall, therefore, fill up this void, and that of the succeeding day, by inserting some anecdotes which I find in scattered memoranda on the cover of my ordinary Journal: for here I noted down such particulars as I found I had forgotten to insert in their proper place, together with any old reminiscences that happened to occur to me, or delicate points which, in our state of captivity, required to be treated with prudence and circumspection. These notes also contain many facts, which have been subsequently collected from unquestionable sources.

Many of these articles have no relation to each other; but, they are all connected with the object of the present work, whether they serve to prove the false colours in which Napoleon has been painted, or whether, on the contrary, they develop the real traits of his character. May the perusal of this Journal induce those who have been about the Emperor to record on their parts all they know, or have heard respecting him!

Formerly, a great deal was said about the excessive severity and violence exercised by the Emperor towards the individuals about his person. Now, however, it is acknowledged that every one who served him adored him, precisely for his kindness of heart and manners. Since my return to Europe, a gentleman of high rank, whose name alone would be sufficient to command credit, and whose high functions kept him constantly about the person of the Emperor, in foreign expeditions as well as in the interior of the palace, has assured me that he never in his life knew Napoleon to strike a servant, except on one occasion. This was when one of his grooms, at the retreat of Saint Jean d’Acre, refused to give up his horse for the transport of the invalids, while he, the General-in-Chief, had surrendered his, and had obliged all his staff to do so likewise. But, after all, added my informant, it was easy to perceive that this act was prompted by policy rather than by natural severity of temper: the scene took place in the presence of dispirited troops, to whom it was necessary to give proofs of the lively interest that was felt for them.

It used to be a common remark that Napoleon was not less morose to the individuals of his Court than to those in his service; and that he never had any thing complimentary or agreeable to say to any one. Among the multitude of facts that might be adduced in contradiction to this assertion, I will mention the following, to which I was myself a witness. On his return from the disastrous campaign of Leipsic, the Emperor received the officers of his household at an unusual hour. He presented himself to us with an air of melancholy. Stepping up to the individual who was next me (M. de Beauveau, I think,) whose son, yet a youth, had served in the campaign, in the guard of honour, or some other corps. Napoleon said to him: “Your son’s conduct has been admirable. He has conferred honour on his name. He has been wounded; but what of that? He may proudly boast of having thus early shed his blood for his country.”

AtAt the same period, at one of his levees, after giving some orders to General Gerard, whose reputation was then beginning to attract attention, the Emperor concluded with some words evidently kindly meant, though somewhat obscure. After advancing a few paces to continue his circuit, he turned back to General Gerard, apparently having read in his countenance that he had not precisely understood him, and he said very distinctly: “I observed that, if I had many men like you, I should consider all my losses repaired, and should think myself master of my fortune.”

About the same period, I had an opportunity of witnessing a proof of the ascendency which the Emperor could exercise over the human mind, and the sort of veneration with which he was regarded. A General, whose name I do not know, and who had been severely wounded in the leg, attended the Emperor’s levee. Napoleon had been informed that amputation was pronounced to be absolutely indispensable, but that the unfortunate officer obstinately refused to submit to it. “Why do you object to an operation that will preserve your life?” said Napoleon: “It cannot be want of courage, since you have so often braved danger on the field of battle! Is it contempt of life? But does not your heart tell you that, even with the remaining limb, you may be useful to your country, and render her signal services?” The officer was silent; the expression of his countenance was calm and placid, but still negative. The Emperor seemed sorry for him, and passed on to speak to some other persons, when the officer, who had apparently formed a sudden resolution, turned to the Emperor, saying, “Sire, if your Majesty orders me to submit to the operation, I will immediately do so,”—“My dear Sir,” replied the Emperor, “I have no power to do that. I wished to move you by persuasion; but Heaven forbid that I should command you!” I think I have heard it said that, on leaving the palace, the wounded officer submitted to the operation.

The Emperor, on his return from the Isle of Elba, arrived at the Tuileries very late in the evening. His levee, on the following day, was, as may be supposed, exceedingly numerous. When the door was thrown open, and he presented himself before us, it would be difficult for me to explain what were my ideas and sensations. The Emperor appeared the same as usual; just as though he had never left the palace, and had held a levee but yesterday; his countenance, attitude, dress, manners, all were unaltered. I was powerfully affected, and I believe my sensations were shared by all present. The force of sentiment prevailed over respect; and all rushed forward to meet him. The Emperor himself was visibly moved; and he embraced several of the most distinguished persons. He then commenced his circuit as usual. His voice was mild, his countenance placid, and his manner affable: he spoke with kindness to every one. “How!” said he, addressing a certain individual, “What! the Major-General of the white army two paces from me!” Several of those present seemed to be labouring under a little embarrassment, owing to the extraordinary events that had just taken place; as for Napoleon, he appeared as though nothing had happened. He did not forget that he had released them all from their allegiance at Fontainebleau.

The following anecdotes prove his correctness of judgment and coolness of temper. They also shew that, when at the summit of his power, his moderation and equity were never shaken, even in matters most directly personal, and on subjects on which he might have been presumed to be most delicate and susceptible.

When Moreau was arrested, on the charge of being concerned in the affair of Georges and Pichegru, one of the First Consul’s Aides-de-camp, who was, perhaps, also the Aide-de-camp of Moreau, or had served under his command, visited him in prison, and evinced great interest for him. “This is all very natural,” said Napoleon, on being informed of the circumstance, “I certainly cannot blame such conduct; but I must appoint another Aide-de-camp. The post is one perfectly confidential: there can be no division in an affair so personal as this.” Napoleon gave the command of a regiment to this Aide-de-camp (Col. LaucÉe), who, some time afterwards, perished at the head of it, in one of the actions which preceded the capitulation of Ulm.

About the same period, the Prefect of Liege, equally remarkable for his administrative talents and excellent character, was suddenly summoned to Paris; and he hastened thither, pleased with the anticipation of the proofs of satisfaction which he trusted he should receive, because he deserved them. He was, however, invited by the Grand Judge to visit him before he should present himself to the First Consul; and he found himself unexpectedly interrogated, The following will shew that Napoleon was not inclined hastily to condemn a certain degree of independence, even though it might be somewhat unreasonable:—

M. de Montalivet, who was Minister of the Interior during the Empire, has informed me that, being one day left alone with the Emperor, after a Council of Ministers, he thus addressed him:—“Sire, it is not without considerable embarrassment that I presume to mention to your Majesty a circumstance which is certainly extremely ridiculous; but a Prefect, a young Auditor, obstinately persists in withholding from me the title which custom has assigned to all your Ministers. Some persons, holding inferior situations in my department, observing that he never used the customary title of Monseigneur in speaking of me, and thinking it an instance of affectation, very absurdly required him, in my name, to observe the formality; and he peremptorily refused. I am quite ashamed that this affair should have arisen; but as it is, the thing has been carried to such a point that I cannot give it up.” At first, the Emperor could scarcely credit such obstinacy and folly on the part of the Prefect. After a short pause, he said to M. de Montalivet, smiling, “But, after all, there is no such obligation specified in the Code. The young man is perhaps good fruit, though not yet ripe. However, this refractory conduct must be checked. Desire his father to come to me; surely the young man will not disobey his orders.” What a delicate, moral sentiment was thus conveyed!

On the evening of the 20th of March, the Emperor had no sooner entered his apartments in the Tuileries, than the Captain of Dragoons, G. D—-- appeared before him. He was the bearer of the capitulation of Vincennes, which had just been obtained by dint of extraordinary courage and address. Napoleon at first smiled at the details that were communicated to him; but, being struck with the vehement manner and language of the narrator, and suddenly calling to mind the fate of Governor Puyvert at Vincennes, he hastily exclaimed, “But, Sir, you say nothing of the Governor; what has become of him?”—“Sire,” resumed the officer, in a calmer tone, “he has been furnished with a passport, and has been escorted out of Paris.” Napoleon then advanced, and seizing the officer’s hand, with an expression that sufficiently betrayed the anxiety with which he had just been agitated, “I am satisfied,” said he; “you have done well, very well!”

I find, in one of my notes, that the Emperor once remarked that the finest military letter he had ever read was one written during the consulate, by a soldier of the south, named Leon. From this high praise, it must of course be presumed that the letter was a very extraordinary one. I myself know nothing of it; but I merely mention the circumstance, in the hope that some one may be induced to lay the document before the public, in case it should not be already upon record.

Napoleon, during his military career, fought sixty battles; CÆsar fought but fifty.

It was asked one day, in Napoleon’s presence, how it happens that misfortunes, which are yet uncertain, often distress us more than afflictions which we are already suffering. “Because,” observed the Emperor, “in the imagination, as in calculation, the power of what is unknown is immeasurable.”

After having given any one an important mission, or traced out the plan of any great enterprise, the Emperor used frequently to say, “Come, Sir, be speedy: use despatch; and do not forget that the world was created in six days.”

On an occasion of this kind, he concluded by observing to the individual whom he was addressing, “Ask me for whatever you please, except time: that’s the only thing that is beyond my power.”

On another occasion, Napoleon commissioned a person to execute some important business, which he expected would be finished in the course of the same day. It was not, however, completed until late on the following day. At this, the Emperor manifested some degree of dissatisfaction; and the person, to excuse himself, said that he had worked all day. “But had you not all night too?” replied Napoleon.

The Emperor directed particular attention to the improvement and embellishment of the markets of the capital. He used to say, “The market-place is the Louvre of the common people.”

Equality of rights, that is to say, the power of aspiring and obtaining, enjoyed by all individuals, was one of the points to which Napoleon attached particular importance. This regard for equality was one of his peculiar traits, and seemed to belong innately to his character. “I have not reigned all my life,” he would say: “before I became a Sovereign, I recollect having been a subject; and I can never forget how powerfully the sentiment of equality influences the mind and animates the heart.”

When he was once giving a project to be drawn up by one of his Councillors of State, he said, “Let me charge you to respect liberty; and above all, equality. With regard to liberty, it might be possible to restrain it, in a case of extremity; circumstances might demand and justify such a step: but Heaven forbid that we should ever infringe upon equality! It is the passion of the age; and I wish to continue to be the man of the age!”

In Napoleon’s eyes, merit was single, by itself, and he recompensed it uniformly. Thus the same titles, and the same decorations, were awarded equally to the ecclesiastic, the soldier, the artist, the philosopher, and the man of letters. It may truly be said that in no other country or period was merit more highly honoured, or talent more magnificently rewarded. On these points, the Emperor’s views were unlimited. I have already mentioned that he one day said, “If Corneille had lived in my time, I would have made him a prince.”

The Emperor said one day at St. Helena, “Nature seems to have made me for great reverses; they have found me with a mind of marble. The thunderbolt cannot make an impression upon, but merely glides over, it.”

At another time, when some vexation arose at St. Helena, one of those about Napoleon exclaimed, “Ah, Sire, this must indeed increase your hatred of the English.” Upon which the Emperor, shrugging up his shoulders, said, in a mingled tone of pleasantry and contempt, “Prejudiced man! Say rather that at most it may increase my hatred of this or that particular Englishman.... But, since we are on this subject, let me tell you that a man, he who has the true feelings of a man, never cherishes hatred. His anger or ill-humour never goes beyond the irritation of the moment,—the electric shock. He who is formed to discharge high duties, and to exercise authority, never considers persons; his views are directed to things, their weight, and consequence.”

On a certain occasion, he remarked that he doubted not but his character would gain in proportion as it descended to posterity; and that future historians would conceive themselves bound to avenge the injustice of contemporaries. Excess is always succeeded by reaction. Besides, he was of opinion that, when viewed from a distance, his character would appear in a more favourable light, by being relieved from many useless encumbrances. He would hereafter be judged by general views, and not by petty details. Every thing would be in harmony, and all local irregularities would disappear. Above all, he would not be compared with himself; but with what might exist at a future period. He added that now, as hereafter, he could proudly submit every act of his private life to the most rigid scrutiny, confident that the severest judges would pronounce him to be free from crime.

The Emperor one day told me that he had conceived the idea of composing his Diplomatic History, or a complete account of his negotiations, from Campo Formio to his abdication. If he should have fulfilled his design, what an historical treasure will thus be presented to the world!

Speaking of military eloquence, the Emperor said, “When, in the heat of the battle, passing along the line, I used to exclaim, ‘Soldiers, unfurl your banners, the moment is come,’ our Frenchmen absolutely leapt for joy. I saw them multiply a hundred-fold. I then thought nothing impossible.”

Many of Napoleon’s military harangues are well known. The following has been communicated to me by one who heard it on the spot. When reviewing the 2d regiment of horse chasseurs at Lobenstein, two days before the battle of Jena, Napoleon, addressing the Colonel, said: “How many men are there here?”—“Five hundred,” replied the Colonel; “but there are many raw troops among them.”—“What signifies that,” said the Emperor, in a tone which denoted surprise at the observation, “are they not all Frenchmen?”—Then, turning to the regiment, “My lads,” said he, “you must not fear death. When soldiers defy death, they drive him into the enemy’s ranks.” He here made a motion with his arm expressive of the action to which he alluded. At these words a sudden movement among the troops, accompanied by a murmur of enthusiasm, seemed the precursor of the memorable victory which forty-eight hours afterwards overthrew the column of Rosbach.

At the battle of LÜtzen, the army was chiefly composed of conscripts, who had never been in any engagement. It is said that, in the heat of the action, Napoleon rode along the rear of the 3d rank of infantry, supporting and encouraging the young troops. “This is nothing, my lads,” said he, “stand firm. France has her eye on you. Show that you can die for your country.”

Napoleon entertained a high regard for the Germans. “I levied many millions of imposts on them, it is true,” said he, “that was necessary; but I should never have insulted them or treated them with contempt. I esteemed the Germans. They may hate me; that is natural enough. I was forced for ten years to fight upon the dead bodies of their countrymen. They could not know my real designs or give me credit for my ultimate intentions, which were calculated to render Germany a great nation.”

The Emperor, alluding to one of his decisions, remarked:—“I could do nothing in that case, I suffered myself to be moved, and I yielded. There I was wrong: a statesman’s heart should be in his head.”

Napoleon observed that the physical faculties of men were strengthened by their dangers or their wants: “Thus,” said he, “the Bedouin of the desert has the piercing sight of the lynx; and the savage of the forest has the keen scent of beasts of prey.”

One day mention was made of a person who, though distinguished for his ideas and his acts, nevertheless betrayed gross faults in his manners and mode of expressing himself. The Emperor explained this discordance by saying: “You see the fault is in his first education; his swaddling clothes were neither fine nor clean.”

When speaking of the danger which he had incurred among the Five Hundred, on the 18th Brumaire, he attributed it militarily to local circumstances. He had been obliged to enter the Orangery at one of the extremities, and to pass along the whole length of it. “The misfortune was,” said he, “that, instead of facing my opponents, I was compelled to present my flank to them.”

When we were alluding to an individual who seemed to think that he could overawe us by speaking almost in a tone and language of menace, the Emperor said: “This is a very absurd idea. Nobody is afraid now. A child would not be afraid. Even little Emmanuel (pointing to my son) would exchange pistol shots with any one who might require him to do so.” These words of the Emperor’s will probably influence my son throughout the rest of his life.

Napoleon, on his return from the Russian campaign, was so struck by the courage and strength of mind displayed by Ney that he created him Prince of the Moskowa, and he was often heard to say: “I have two hundred millions in my coffers, and I would give them all for Ney.”

Remarking on the certainty of the ultimate triumph of modern principles, the Emperor said: “They cannot but triumph. Mark the train of events: even oppression now-a-days turns to the disadvantage of the oppressor.”

On a certain occasion, it was observed to the Emperor that he was not fond of putting forward his own merits; “That is,” replied he, “because with me morality and generosity are not in my mouth, but in my nerves. My iron hand was not at the extremity of my arm, it was immediately connected with my head. I did not receive it from nature; calculation alone has enabled me to employ it.”

Speaking of the ill humour and discontent frequently evinced by the inhabitants of Paris, the Emperor asked what he was expected to do after all he had accomplished. “Sire,” said some one present, “it was wished that your Majesty should stop your horse.” “Stop my horse!” resumed Napoleon, “that was easily said. My arm was strong enough, it is true, to stop, with a single check, all the horses of the continent. But I could not bridle the English fleets: and there lay all the mischief. Had not the people sense enough to see this?”

One day, when the Emperor was reproaching a person for not correcting the vices which he knew he possessed, “Sir,” said he, “when a man knows his moral infirmity, he may cure his mind, just as he would cure his arm or his leg.”

The Emperor, speaking of the nobility which he had created, regretted that he had been so ill understood. It was, he said, one of his grandest and happiest ideas. He had in view three objects of the highest importance, and all three would have been accomplished: 1st, to reconcile France with Europe, and to restore harmony, by seeming to adopt European customs: 2nd, by the same means to bring about a complete reconciliation and union between old and new France; and 3d, to banish feudal nobility, the only kind that is offensive, oppressive, and unnatural. “By my plan,” said the Emperor, “I should soon have succeeded in substituting positive and meritorious qualities for antiquated and odious prejudices. My national titles would have exactly restored that equality which feudal nobility proscribed. They were conferred as the reward of merit of every kind. For genealogical parchments I substituted noble actions, and for private interests, the interests of the country. Family pride would no longer have been founded on obscure and imaginary circumstances, but would have rested on the noblest pages of our history. Finally, I would have banished the odious pretension of blood; an absurd idea, a theory that has no real existence; for we all know very well that there is but one race of men, and that one is not born with boots on his legs, and another with a packsaddle on his back.

“All the nobility in Europe, those who really govern it, were pleased with my plan. They unanimously applauded an institution the novelty of which enhanced its pre-eminence; and yet this very novelty would have sapped its foundation and infallibly destroyed it. Why did that opinion, to which I had secured a triumph, precisely serve the purpose of its enemies? But I have suffered this misfortune oftener than once.”

ON THE DIFFICULTIES WHICH HISTORY PRESENTS.—GEORGES,
PICHEGRU, MOREAU, THE DUKE D’ENGHIEN.

20th.—“It must be admitted, my dear Las Cases,” said the Emperor to me to-day, “that it is most difficult to obtain absolute certainties for the purposes of history. Fortunately it is, in general, more a matter of mere curiosity than of real importance. There are so many kinds of truths! The truth which FouchÉ, or other intriguers of his stamp will tell, for instance; even that which many very honest people may tell, will, in some cases, differ essentially from the truth which I may relate. The historic truth, so much in request, to which every body eagerly appeals, is too often but a term. At the time of the events, during the heat of conflicting passions, it cannot exist; and if, at a later period, all parties are agreed respecting it, it is because those persons who were interested in the events, those who might be able to contradict what is asserted, are no more. What then is, generally speaking, the truth of history? A concerted fable, as it has been very ingeniously remarked. There are, in these matters, two essential points, very distinct from each other: the positive facts, and the moral intentions. With respect to the positive facts, it would seem that they ought to be incontrovertible; yet you will not find two accounts agreeing together in relating the same fact: some have remained contested points to this day, and will ever remain so. With regard to moral intentions, how shall we judge of them, even admitting the candour of those who relate events? And what will be the case if the narrators are not sincere, or if they should be actuated by interest or passion? I have given an order, but who was able to read my thoughts, my real intentions? Yet every one will take up that order, and measure it according to his own scale, or adapt it to his own plans or system. See the different colourings that will be given to it by the intriguer, whose plans it disturbs or favours: see how he will distort it. The man who assumes importance, to whom the ministers or the sovereign may have hinted something in confidence on the subject, will do the same thing; as will the numerous idlers of the palace, who, having nothing better to do than to listen at doors, and invent when they can not hear. And each person will be so certain of what he tells! and the inferior classes of people, who have received their information from these privileged mouths, will be so certain, in their turn, of its correctness! and then memoirs are digested, memorandums are written, witticisms and anecdotes are circulated; and of such materials is history composed!

“I“I have seen the plan of my own battle, the intention of my own orders, disputed with me, and opinion decide against me! Is not that the creature giving the lie to its creator? Nevertheless, my opponent, who contradicts me, will have his adherents. This it is which has prevented me from writing my own private memoirs, from disclosing my individual feelings, which would, naturally, have exhibited the shades of my private character. I could not condescend to write confessions, after the manner of Jean Jaques Rousseau, which every body might have attacked; and, therefore, I have thought proper to confine the subjects of my dictations here to public acts. I am aware that even these relations may be contested: for where is the man in this world, whatever be his right, and the strength and power of that right, who may not be attacked and contradicted by an adverse party? But, in the opinion of those men who are wise and impartial, of those who reflect and are reasonable, my voice, after all, will be as good as another’s; and I have little fear for the final decision. So much light has been diffused in our days that I rely upon the splendour which will remain after passions shall have subsided and clouds passed away. But, in the mean time, how many errors will arise! People will often give me credit for a great deal of depth and sagacity on occasions which were, perhaps, most simple in themselves; I shall be suspected of plans which I never formed.^[18] It will be inquired whether I did or did not aspire, in reality, to universal dominion. The question will be argued, at length, whether my absolute sway and my arbitrary acts were the result of my character or of my calculations; whether they were determined by my own inclination or by the influence of circumstances; whether I was led into the wars in which I was constantly engaged, by my own inclination, or against my will; whether my insatiable ambition, which has been so much deprecated, was kindled by the thirst for dominion and glory, or by my love of order and my concern for the general welfare; for that ambition will deserve to be considered under all those different aspects. People will canvass the motives which guided me in the catastrophe of the Duke d’Enghien,^[19] and so on with respect to many other events. Sometimes they will distort what was perfectly straight, and refine upon what was quite natural. It was not for me to treat of all those subjects here: it would have appeared as if I were pleading my cause—and that I disdain to do. If the rectitude and the sagacity of historians can enable them to form, from what I have dictated on general matters, a correct opinion and just notions respecting those things which I have not mentioned, so much the better. But, along with the faint ray thus afforded, how many false lights will appear to them—from the fables and falsehoods of the great intriguers (who all had their views, their plots, their private negotiations, which, being mixed up with the main objects, tend to render the whole an inextricable chaos), to the disclosures, the portfolios, and even the assertions of my ministers, who, with the best intentions, will have to state not so much what really existed as what they believe to have existed; for which of them ever possessed the entire general conception of my mind? Their share of it was, most frequently, one of the elements of a great whole, which they did not know. They will, therefore, only have seen that side of the prism which concerned them; and, even then, how will they have seen it? Did it reach them entire? Was it not already broken? And yet probably every one of them, judging from what he has seen, will give the fantastical result of his own combinations as my true system; and here again we have the admitted fable, which will be called history. Nor can it be otherwise. It is true that, as there are many, they will be far from agreeing together. However, in their positive assertions they would have the advantage over me: for I should very frequently have found it most difficult to affirm confidently what had been my whole and entire thoughts on any given subject. It is well known that I did not strive to subject circumstances to my ideas; but that I in general suffered myself on the contrary to be led by them; and who can calculate beforehand the chances of accidental circumstances or unexpected events? I have, therefore, often found it necessary to alter essentially my plan of proceeding, and have acted through life upon general principles, rather than according to fixed plans. The mass of the general interests of mankind, what I considered to be the advantage of the greater number, such were the anchors on which I relied, but around which I most frequently floated at the caprice of chance,” &c.

After these memorable expressions, the present is the best opportunity of returning to an historical point which in an early part of this work I promised to treat of, and which ought to have found a place long before this; I allude to the conspiracy of Georges and Pichegru, and the trial of the Duke d’Enghien. I shall presently state the true reasons of this transposition, and of the long delay that has occurred.

“War,” said the Emperor, “had some time since re-commenced with England, when suddenly our coasts, our high roads, and the capital, were inundated with agents from the Bourbons. A great number of them were arrested; but their plans could not yet be discovered. They were of all ranks and descriptions. All the passions were roused, the agitation of the public became extreme; a storm was gathering; the crisis assumed the most alarming aspect; the agents of the police had exhausted all their means, without being able to obtain any information. My own sagacity saved me,” observed Napoleon. “Having risen on one occasion in the night, to work, as I used frequently to do, chance, which governs the world, directed my eyes to one of the last reports of the police, containing the names of those persons who had already been arrested in consequence of this affair, to which no clue had yet been obtained. Amongst those names I observed that of a surgeon in the army; I immediately concluded that such a man must be an intriguer rather than a devoted fanatic, and I ordered every measure likely to extort a prompt confession to be instantly resorted to against him. The affair was immediately placed in the hands of a military commission; in the morning he was sentenced, and threatened with immediate execution if he did not speak. Half an hour afterwards he had disclosed every thing, even to the most minute details. The nature and the extent of the plot, which had been got up in London, was then known, and the intrigues of Moreau, and the presence of Pichegru in Paris, &c. were discovered soon after.”

I omit all the details of that affair; they may be seen in the Letters written from the Cape in refutation of those of Dr. Warden, and in the work of Mr. O’Meara. The particulars which I should relate would be precisely the same as those contained in the work last mentioned; they are derived from the same source. With respect to the accusation relative to the death of Pichegru, who was said to have been strangled by order of the First Consul, Napoleon said that it was too absurd, and that it would be degrading to attempt to repel it:—“What advantage,” he observed, “could accrue to me from his death? A man of my stamp does not act without some powerful motive. Have I ever been known to shed blood through caprice? Notwithstanding all the efforts that have been made to blacken my reputation and misrepresent my character, those who know me know that crime is foreign to my nature. There is not a private act that has occurred during the whole course of my administration, of which I might not speak openly before a tribunal, not only without any disadvantage, but even with some credit to myself. The fact is that Pichegru found himself placed in a hopeless situation; his high mind could not bear to contemplate the infamy of a public execution; he despaired of my clemency, or disdained to appeal to it, and put an end to his existence.

“Had I been disposed to crime,” continued the Emperor, “it is not against Pichegru, who could do no harm, that I should have levelled the blow, but at Moreau, who had at that moment placed me in a most perilous situation. If the latter had unfortunately also killed himself while in prison, my justification would have been rendered much more difficult, on account of the great advantage it would have been to me to get rid of him. You gentlemen who were abroad, and the ultra-royalists who were in France, have never known the true state of public opinion in France. Pichegru, having been once unmasked, and exposed as a traitor to the nation, no longer excited sympathy in any breast; and this feeling went so far that the circumstance of his being connected with Moreau was sufficient to effect the ruin of the latter, who saw himself abandoned by many of his adherents; for, in the struggle of parties, the majority of the people cared more about the commonwealth than about individuals. I judged so correctly in this business that, when Real came to propose to me to arrest Moreau, I rejected the proposal without hesitation. Moreau is a man of too much importance, said I to him; he is too directly opposed to me, I have too great an interest in getting rid of him, to expose myself thus to the conjectures of public opinion. But, replied Real, if Moreau conspires with Pichegru?—The case is then different; prove that to me, shew me that Pichegru is in Paris, and I will instantly sign the order for the apprehension of Moreau. Real had received indirect information of Pichegru’s arrival; but had not yet been able to trace his steps. Run to his brother’s, said I; if he has left his residence, it will be a strong indication that Pichegru is in Paris; if he is still in his lodgings, arrest him: his surprise will soon inform you of the truth. This brother had been a monk, and lived in a fourth floor in Paris. As soon as he found himself arrested, he asked, before any question was put to him, what fault he had committed, and whether it was imputed to him as a crime that he had received, against his will, a visit from his brother. He had been the first, he said, to represent to him the peril of his situation, and to advise him to go away again. This was quite enough. Moreau’s arrest was ordered and carried into effect. Moreau appeared at first to be under no apprehension; but, when he found, after he had been conducted to prison, that he was arrested for having conspired with Pichegru and Georges against the state, he was quite disconcerted and extremely agitated. As for the greater number of those who composed that party,” added Napoleon, “the name of Pichegru seemed to them a triumph; they exclaimed on all sides that Pichegru was in London, and that in a few days this would be proved; for they either did not know that he was in Paris, or believed that it would be easy for him to escape thence.”

The First Consul had long since broken with Moreau, who was entirely governed by his wife. “This,” said the Emperor, “is always a great misfortune, because a man in that case is neither himself nor his wife, he is nothing.” Moreau shewed himself sometimes favourable to the First Consul, and sometimes against him; sometimes obsequious and sometimes sarcastic. The First Consul, who had wished to conciliate the affection of Moreau, found himself under the necessity of giving him up altogether. “Moreau,” he had said, “will in the end commit himself most seriously; he will some day break his head against the columns of the Palace.” And to this he was but too much instigated by the inconsiderate conduct and the ridiculous pretensions of his wife and his mother-in-law. The latter went so far as to contend for precedence with the wife of the First Consul. “The Minister for Foreign Affairs,” said Napoleon, “had been obliged once, on the occasion of an entertainment given by the ministers, to use violence to oblige her to desist.”

After Moreau had been arrested, the First Consul sent him word that it would be enough for him to confess that he had seen Pichegru, in order to put a stop to all proceedings against him. Moreau answered by a letter, in which he assumed a high tone; but afterwards, when Pichegru himself was arrested, and the affair began to assume a serious aspect, Moreau wrote to the First Consul a very submissive letter, but it was too late.

It was perfectly true that Moreau had conferred with Pichegru and Georges; and had given the following answer to their proposals:—“In the present state of affairs I could not do any thing for you, I could not even depend upon my own aides-de-camp; but get rid of the First Consul, I have a party in the Senate, and shall be immediately appointed in his stead. You, Pichegru, will be examined upon the charge which is brought against you, of having betrayed the national cause; depend upon it, it is necessary that you should be put upon your trial, but I will be answerable for the result: from that moment you will be Second Consul; and we will afterwards choose a third according to our wish, and proceed all together in concert and without interruption.” Georges, who was present, and whom Moreau had never known before, very urgently claimed that third place for himself. “That cannot be,” said Moreau, “you have no knowledge of the state of public opinion in France; you have always been a white,^[20] and you see that Pichegru will be obliged to wash off the stain of having had the intention to become one.” “I understand you,” said Georges, highly incensed. “What farce are we playing here, and whom do you take me for? You are then working for yourselves alone, and not at all for the King? If that is the case, and if there must be a blue^[21] at the head of the government, I prefer the one who is there now.” Upon this they separated in dudgeon, and Moreau requested Pichegru not to bring that brute, that bull, destitute of sense and of all information, any more.

“On the trial,” said Napoleon, “the firmness of the accomplices, the magnanimity by which they dignified their cause, and the line of absolute denial recommended by his advocate, saved Moreau. On being questioned whether the charges brought against him of having held conferences and had interviews were true, he answered, No. But the victor of Hohenlinden was unaccustomed to falsehood; a sudden blush suffused every feature of his countenance, and none of the bystanders were deceived. However, he was acquitted, and most of the accomplices were condemned to death. I pardoned several of them; all those whose wives succeeded in penetrating into my presence, or in whose favour strong intercessions were made, obtained their lives. The Polignacs, M. de Riviere and others, would indubitably have perished, but for the intervention of some fortunate circumstances. Others less known, such as a man named Borel, Ingand de St. Maur, Rochelle, &c. were equally fortunate. It is true,” added he, “that they did not afterwards shew themselves very grateful for such a favour, and that, if they were worthy to have their conduct investigated, it would be found that their actions have not been of a nature to encourage clemency. One of them, who had on the occasion above mentioned owed his life chiefly to the solicitations of Murat, was precisely the same man who set a price on Murat’s head in Provence, in the year 1815. If he thought that fidelity should outweigh gratitude, the sacrifice must at least have been most painful to him. Another is the man who has most contributed to circulate the imputation, as ridiculous as that concerning Pichegru was absurd, of the murder of the English Lieutenant Wright,^[22] &c.

“In the midst of the affairs of Georges, Pichegru, and Moreau,” said the Emperor; “that of the Duke d’Enghien happened, and rendered the whole a strange complication.” And he then related that affair in detail. This latter circumstance is the reason that induced me at the time to displace and postpone to this day the whole of the article which I now give, for I felt a very great repugnance to touch upon a subject so painful in itself, and so afflicting to several of my acquaintances, who had been in direct relation with the Prince, or personally attached to him. Above all, I dreaded to awaken the legitimate grief of a high personage, who has formerly honoured me with some marks of kindness, of which I have ever treasured the recollection. These are my motives; they will be understood and appreciated. But, however, I am now approaching to the end of my work, and my duty, as a faithful historian, imperatively commands me to take up this melancholy subject, lest my absolute silence should be misinterpreted. Nevertheless, I shall, for reasons before stated, omit all the details which are already known, and which may have been read in the works already quoted (Letters from the Cape, and Mr. O’Meara’s work): my account would be the same, for all of them were heard from Napoleon’s own mouth; I shall only relate a few particulars which have not found their way into the books above mentioned, and only such as appear to me too intimately connected with the characteristic shades of Napoleon’s disposition, not to impose upon me the obligation of mentioning them.

This event had made, at the time, a deep impression on my mind, as well as on that of the inhabitants of Paris. I, perhaps, had felt it still more forcibly on account of the principles of my childhood, the habits and connexions of my younger days, and the line of my political opinions; and I was, at that time, far from having got the better of this feeling. That first impression had still remained in all its force, and my ideas on this point were such that I certainly should not have dared to pronounce the name of the Prince in the presence of the Emperor: it would have seemed to me to convey the idea of a reproach. I carried the feeling so far that, the first time I heard him pronounce the name himself, I turned red with embarrassment. Fortunately, I was walking behind him in a narrow path; otherwise, he would certainly have observed my confusion. Yet, notwithstanding all these previous dispositions on my part, the first time the Emperor developed this affair in all its general bearings, its details, and circumstances; when I heard him expose his various motives, with that conciseness, brilliancy, and power of persuasion which form the characteristics of his logic, I must confess that the affair seemed to wear a new aspect. When he had ceased to speak, I remained surprised, absorbed in thought; I silently called to mind my former objections; I was angry with myself for having little or nothing to answer at this moment, and I was obliged to confess, internally, that I found myself stronger in feelings than in arguments or solid objections.

The Emperor often resumed this subject, which gave me an opportunity of observing in him some very strongly marked characteristic shades. I have, on those occasions, most distinctly and frequently seen in him the private man struggling against the public character; and the natural feelings of his heart contending against those which were suggested by his pride and the dignity of his station. In the unreserved moments of familiar intercourse, he shewed himself not indifferent to the fate of the unfortunate Prince; but, if his conversation had reference to public concerns, it was altogether quite a different thing. One day, having spoken to me of the youth and the untimely end of this ill-fated Prince, he concluded by saying: “And I have since learnt, my dear Las Cases, that he was favourable to me. I have been assured that he used to speak of me with some degree of admiration; such is retributive justice in this world!” These last words were pronounced with such an expression, every feature of his face was so much in harmony with that expression, that I have no doubt, if the individual whom Napoleon pitied had been at that moment in his power, he would have been freely forgiven, whatever his acts or intentions might have been. This was no doubt a sentiment expressed in an unguarded moment, in which I had, as it were, taken him by surprise; and I do not suppose that many persons have found themselves similarly placed. This delicate subject was too sensibly connected with Napoleon’s pride, and the peculiar cast of his mind, to allow him to be lavish in his expression of such feelings; and he therefore varied his arguments and his words on the subject, as the circle of his hearers increased. We have just seen how he expressed himself in the confidence of a private conversation; his language was even different, when we were all assembled together: the affair, he would then say, might have occasioned him some regret, but had not given rise to any remorse, or even to any scruples. But when strangers were present, he would declare that the Prince had deserved his fate.

The Emperor used to consider this affair under two very distinct aspects: with reference to the common law, or the established rules of justice, and with reference to the law of nature, or acts of violence. With us he would willingly argue the matter, and generally on the principles of common law; and he seemed to condescend to do so on account of the familiarity that existed between us, or of his superiority over us. He generally concluded these conversations by observing that he might possibly be reproached with severity, but that he could not be accused of any violation of justice; because, notwithstanding all that calumny and falsehood had invented on the subject, all the forms required by law had been regularly observed and strictly attended to.

In the presence of strangers, the Emperor adopted a line of argument founded almost exclusively on the law of nature and state politics. It was visible that it would have been too painful to him so far to lower himself with them as to insist much on the principles of common law: to have done so would have appeared like an attempt to justify himself. “If I had not had in my favour the laws of the country to punish the culprit,” he would say to them, “I should still have had the right of the law of nature, of legitimate self-defence. The Duke and his party had constantly but one object in view, that of taking away my life: I was assailed on all sides, and at every instant; air-guns, infernal machines, plots, ambuscades of every kind, were resorted to for that purpose. At last I was tired out, and took an opportunity of striking them with terror in their turn in London; I succeeded, and from that moment there was an end to all conspiracies. Who can blame me for having acted so? What! blows threatening my existence are aimed at me day after day, from a distance of one hundred and fifty leagues; no power on earth, no tribunal can afford me redress; and I shall not be allowed to use the right of nature and return war for war! What man, unbiassed by party feeling, possessing the smallest share of judgment and justice, can take upon himself to condemn me? on what side will he not throw blame, odium, and criminal accusations? Blood for blood; such is the natural, inevitable, and infallible law of retaliation: woe to him who provokes it! Those who foment civil dissensions or excite political commotions render themselves liable to become the victims of them. It would be a proof of imbecility or madness to imagine and pretend that a whole family should have the strange privilege to threaten my existence, day after day, without giving me the right of retaliation: they could not reasonably pretend to be above the law to destroy others, and claim the benefit of it for their own preservation: the chances must be equal. I had never personally offended any of them; a great nation had chosen me to govern them; almost all Europe had sanctioned their choice; my blood, after all, was not ditch-water; it was time to place it on a par with theirs. And what if I had carried retaliation further? I might have done it: the disposal of their destiny, the lives of every one of them, from the highest to the lowest, were more than once offered to me; but I rejected the offer with indignation. Not that I thought it would be unjust for me to consent to it, in the situation to which they had reduced me; but I felt so powerful, I thought myself so secure, that I should have considered it a base and gratuitous act of cowardice. My great maxim has always been that, in war as well as in politics, every evil action, even if legal, can only be excused in case of absolute necessity: whatever goes beyond that is criminal.

“It would have been ridiculous in those who violated so openly the law of nations to appeal to it themselves. The violation of the territory of Baden, of which so much has been said, is entirely foreign to the main point of the question. The law of the inviolability of territory has not been devised for the benefit of the guilty, but merely for the preservation of the independence of nations and of the dignity of the sovereign. It was therefore for the Duke of Baden, and for him alone, to complain, and he did not; he yielded, no doubt, to violence and to the feeling of his political inferiority: but, even then, what has that to do with the merits of the plots and outrages which I had to complain of, and of which I had every right to be revenged?” And he concluded that the real authors of the dreadful catastrophe, the persons who alone were responsible for it, were those who had favoured and excited from abroad the plots formed against the life of the First Consul. “For,” said he, “either they had implicated the unfortunate Prince in them, and had thus sealed his doom; or, by neglecting to give him intimation of what was going forward, they had suffered him to slumber imprudently on the brink of the precipice, and to be so near the frontiers at the moment when so great a blow was about to be struck in the name and on the behalf of his family.”

To us, in the intimacy of private conversation, the Emperor would say that the blame in France might be ascribed to an excess of zeal in those who surrounded him, or to dark intrigues or private views; that he had been precipitately urged on in this affair; that they had as it were taken his mind unawares; and that his measures had been hastened, and their results pre-determined. “I was one day alone,” said he, “I recollect it well; I was taking my coffee, half seated on the table at which I had just dined; when sudden information is brought to me that a new conspiracy has been discovered. I am warmly urged to put an end to these enormities; they represent to me that it is time at last to give a lesson to those who have been day after day conspiring against my life; that this end can only be attained by shedding the blood of one of them; and that the Duke d’Enghiend’Enghien, who might now be convicted of forming part of this new conspiracy, and taken in the very fact, should be that one. It was added that he had been seen at Strasburg; that it was even believed that he had been in Paris; and that the plan was that he should enter France by the east, at the moment of the explosion, whilst the Duke of Berry was disembarking in the west. I should tell you,” observed the Emperor, “that I did not even know precisely who the Duke d’Enghien was (the Revolution having taken place when I was yet a very young man, and I having never been at Court); and that I was quite in the dark as to where he was at that moment. Having been informed on those points, I exclaimed that, if such were the case, the Duke ought to be arrested, and orders should be given to that effect. Every thing had been foreseen and prepared; the different orders were already drawn up, nothing remained to be done but to sign them, and the fate of the young Prince was thus decided. He had been residing for some time past at a distance of about three leagues from the Rhine, in the states of Baden. Had I been sooner aware of this fact and of its importance, I should have taken umbrage at it, and should not have suffered the Prince to remain so near the frontiers of France; and that circumstance, as it turned out, would have saved his life. As for the assertions, that were advanced at the time, that I had been strenuously opposed in this affair, and that numerous solicitations had been made to me, they are utterly false, and were only invented to make me appear in a more odious light. The same thing may be said of the various motives that have been ascribed to me; these motives may have existed in the bosoms of those who acted an inferior part on this occasion, and may have guided them in their private views; but my conduct was influenced only by the nature of the fact itself and the energy of my disposition. Undoubtedly, if I had been informed in time of certain circumstances respecting the opinions of the Prince, and his disposition; if, above all, I had seen the letter which he wrote to me, and which, God knows for what reason, was not delivered to me till after his death, I should certainly have pardoned him.”

It was easy for us to perceive that these expressions of the Emperor’s were dictated by his heart and by nature, and that they were only intended for us; for he would have felt himself much humbled had he supposed that any body could think for a moment that he endeavoured to shift the blame upon some other person; or that he condescended to justify himself. And this feeling was carried so far that, when he was speaking to strangers, or dictating on that subject for the public eye, he confined himself to saying that, if he had seen the Prince’s letter, he should perhaps have forgiven him, on account of the great political advantages that he might have derived from so doing; and in tracing with his own hand his last thoughts, which he concludes will be recorded in the present age, and reach posterity, he still pronounces on this subject, which he is aware will be considered the most delicate for his memory, that, if he were again placed in the same situation, he should again act in the same manner!! Such was the man, such the stamp of his mind, and the turn of his disposition.

Let those who delight in searching the human heart in its inmost recesses, to deduce consequences and draw conclusions, now exercise their ingenuity: I have supplied them with valuable materials, I have laid genuine documents before them. I will add another and a last, which will not be the least worthy of notice.

Napoleon one day said to me, with reference to the same subject, “If I occasioned a general consternation by that melancholy event, what a universal feeling of horror would have been produced by another spectacle, with which I might have surprised the world!...

“I have frequently been offered the lives of those whose places I filled on the throne, at the rate of one million a head. They were seen to be my competitors, and it was supposed that I thirsted after their blood; but, even if my disposition had been different from what it was, had I been formed to commit crimes, I should have repelled all thoughts of the crime thus proposed to me, as seeming altogether gratuitous. I was then so powerful, so firmly seated; and they seemed so little to be feared! Revert to the periods of Tilsit and Wagram; to my marriage with Maria Louisa; to the state and attitude of Europe! However, at the height of the crisis of Georges and Pichegru, when I was assailed by murderers, the moment was thought favourable to tempt me, and the offer was renewed, having for its object the individual, whom public opinion, in England as well as in France, pointed out as chief mover of all these horrible conspiracies. I was at Boulogne, where the bearer of these offers arrived; I took it into my head to ascertain personally the truth and the nature of the proposal. I ordered him to be brought before me.—‘Well, Sir!’ said I, when he appeared.—‘Yes, First Consul, we will give him up to you for one million.‘—‘Sir, I will give you two millions; but on condition that you will bring him alive.’—‘Ah! that I could not promise,’ said the man, hesitating, and much disconcerted by the tone of my voice and the expression of my looks at that moment.—‘Do you then take me for a mere assassin? Know Sir, that, though I may think it necessary to inflict a punishment or to make a great example, I am not disposed to encourage the perfidy of an ambuscade;’ and I drove him from my presence. Indeed his mere presence was already too great a contamination.”

From 21st to 24th.—I had remained with the Emperor the preceding day, as late as one or two o’clock in the morning; on returning to my own apartment, I found that I had had a visit paid to me, during my absence, by a person who had become tired of waiting for me.

That visit, which my son had received, and which prudence obliged me to insert in my journal, at the time, under the veil of mystery, may and shall now be fully explained.

That visit was neither more nor less than the mysterious re-appearance of the servant whom Sir Hudson Lowe had taken from me, and who, favoured by the darkness of the night, and his knowledge of the localities of the island, had surmounted every obstacle, avoided sentinels, and scaled precipices, to come and see me, in order to tell me that, having got a situation with a person who was going to set off for London in a very few days, he came to offer me his services without reserve. He had waited for me in my own apartment for a considerable time, and, seeing that I did not return from the Emperor’s, he had gone away, fearing lest he should be caught; but he promised to return, either under pretence of visiting his sister, who was employed in our household; or by having recourse to the same means to which he had just resorted.

The next day, I immediately communicated my good fortune to the Emperor, who appeared much pleased at the intelligence, and to attach some value to the circumstance. I was very warm on the subject; I strenuously urged that we had already been here above a year, without having taken one single step towards the prospect of better days; on the contrary, we were every day more and more restricted, ill used, and tormented. We were lost in the universe; Europe was ignorant of our real situation; it behoved us to make it known. Day after day, the newspapers shewed us the veil of imposture which had been thrown over us, and the impudent and disgusting falsehoods of which we were the objects; it was for us, I urged, to publish the truth; it would find its way to the ears of the Sovereigns, to whom it was perhaps unknown; it would become known to the people, whose sympathy would be our consolation, and whose indignation would, at least, revenge us upon our cruel persecutors, &c.

We immediately began to search amongst our records. The Emperor portioned them out, pointing out the share which each of us was to take, in order to transcribe them with greater despatch. The day however passed without any thing being done on the subject. The next day (Friday), as soon as I saw the Emperor, I took the liberty of reminding him of our plans of the preceding day; but he now appeared to think less of the matter, and ended the conversation by saying, “We must see.” This day passed like the preceding; I was on thorns. At night, as if to add to my impatience, my man came again, and renewed the unreserved offer of his services. I told him that I should take advantage of them, and that he might act without scruple, as I should not involve him in any criminality or danger. To this he replied that he did not care about that, and that he would take charge of any thing I might wish to give him, observing only, that he would call for it, without fail, the day after the next (Sunday), which would, in all probability, be the eve of his sailing. The next day (Saturday) as soon as I saw the Emperor, I hastened to communicate to him what I had heard from the servant, dwelling upon the circumstance of our having only twenty-four hours more; but the Emperor, with the utmost indifference, turned the conversation to some other topic, totally foreign to my object. I was struck with surprise. I knew the Emperor’s disposition, and I was perfectly satisfied that the indifference, the sort of absence of mind, which he manifested at this moment could not be the effect of chance, still less the result of caprice; but what then could his motives be? This idea haunted my mind the whole day, and rendered me melancholy and miserable. At night, the same sentiment which agitated my breast during the day, prevented me from sleeping. I painfully recalled to my mind every circumstance connected with this affair, when suddenly a new light broke in upon me. What do I require of the Emperor, thought I? that he should stoop to the execution of trifling details too much beneath him! No doubt, disgust and secret dissatisfaction have occasioned the silence which has caused my uneasiness. Ought we to be useless to him? Can we not serve him without afflicting him? And then several of his former observations came across my mind. Had I not informed him of the affair; had he not approved of it; what more could I expect?^[23] Henceforth it was for me to act, and I made up my mind in one instant. I resolved to proceed in the business, without mentioning another word to him on the subject: and, in order that it might remain more secret, I determined to keep it entirely to myself.

Some months had now elapsed since I had succeeded in forwarding the celebrated letter, in answer to Sir Hudson Lowe, concerning the Commissioners from the Allied Powers, and which was the only document that had been sent to Europe up to that period. The person who had kindly taken charge of it had brought me a large piece of satin, on part of which the letter had been written. Some was still left; and that was precisely what I wanted. Thus every thing combined to urge me towards the precipice, down which I was destined to fall.

As soon as daylight appeared, I gave the remainder of the satin to my son, on whose discretion I could rely; and he spent the whole of the day in copying upon it my letter to Prince Lucien. Night came, and, faithful to his word, my young mulatto appeared. He had some knowledge of the business of a tailor; he sewed with his own hands the satin into his clothes, and took his leave of me. I promised to give him some other things if he came to see me again before his departure, and wished him a pleasant voyage in case I should not see him again:—afterwards I went to bed with a light heart, and a feeling of satisfaction, arising from the contemplation of a day well employed, and marked by a fortunate event. I was far from thinking, at that moment, that I had just cut with my own hands the thread of my destiny at Longwood!

Alas! it will soon be seen that twenty-four hours had not elapsed when, under pretence of my having written that letter, I was removed from Longwood, and my person and papers were in the power and at the entire disposal of the Governor, Sir Hudson Lowe. And if I should now be asked how I could be so unguarded, and not suspect that possibly a snare might be laid for me, I should say that my servant had appeared to me honest, that I believed him to be faithful, and that I was still a stranger to all idea of instigating spies, a new invention, the honour of which the British Ministers of that period may claim as their own, and which has since thriven so well on the continent!

MY REMOVAL FROM LONGWOOD.—SOLITARY CONFINEMENT
AT ST. HELENA (A SPACE OF ABOUT SIX WEEKS).

25th.—The Emperor sent for me at about four o’clock; he had just finished work, and appeared much pleased with the result of his occupations of the day. “I have been busy with Bertrand all day on fortifications,” said he to me, “and the day has appeared to me very short.” I have already said that this was a newly acquired taste of the Emperor’s, quite of the moment; and such pastimes are valuable here, God knows!

I had followed the Emperor to the kind of grassplot which adjoins the tent; we thence went to the corner of the walk that leads to the bottom of the garden. Five oranges were brought on a plate, with a knife and some sugar. Oranges are very scarce on the island; they are sent from the Cape. The Emperor is very fond of this fruit. These were a present from Lady Malcolm, and the Admiral never failed to send him some, whenever he had any. We were three of us at this moment with the Emperor; he gave me one of these oranges to put in my pocket for my son, and proceeded to cut the others in slices, and prepare them; and, seated on the trunk of a tree, was eating them cheerfully, and familiarly distributing part of them to us at the same time. By a fatal instinct, I was precisely at that instant contemplating the pleasure of this momentary situation! Alas! I was far from thinking that I was then taking the last present I could receive from his hands!...

The Emperor then took some turns in the garden; the wind had become cold: he went into the house again, and bade me follow him alone into the drawing-room, and the billiard-room, whilst he paced up and down the whole extent of the two rooms. He was talking to me again about the manner in which he had passed his day, and asked me how I had spent mine; then, the conversation having turned on his marriage, he was speaking of the festivities which had taken place on that occasion, and which had ended in the terrible accident that happened at M. Schwartzenberg’s ball. I was listening, and inwardly proposing to make an interesting article in my journal on the subject, when the Emperor suddenly interrupted his conversation, to observe through the window a great number of English officers, who were advancing towards us from the gate of our enclosure: it was the Governor, surrounded by several of his staff. The Grand Marshal, who at this moment came into the room, observed that the Governor had already been there in the morning; and that he had been at his house, and remained there some time; he added that a certain movement of the troops was spoken of. These circumstances appeared singular; and—mark the effect of a guilty conscience!—the idea of my letter clandestinely sent, immediately occurred to my mind, and a secret foreboding instantly warned me that all these strange proceedings concerned me. Such in fact, was the case, for a few minutes afterwards, a message was brought to me, informing me that the English Colonel, the creature of Sir Hudson Lowe’s, was waiting for me in my own apartment. I made a sign that I was with the Emperor, who, a few minutes afterwards, said to me, “Go, Las Cases, and see what that animal wants of you.” And, as I was going, he added, “and come back soon.” These were the last words of Napoleon to me. Alas, I have never seen him since! but his accent, the tone of his voice, still sound in my ears. How often since have I taken delight in allowing my imagination to dwell upon them! and what mingled sensations of pleasure and regret may be produced by a painful recollection!

The Colonel who wished to see me was a man entirely devoted to the Governor’s wishes, his factotum, and with whom I had frequently to communicate as interpreter. I had no sooner entered the room than, with an expression of benevolence and kindness both in his voice and countenance, he inquired after my health with a tender interest. This was the kiss of Judas; for, having made a sign to him with my hand to sit down on the sofa, and having also taken a seat on it myself, he seized this opportunity to place himself between me and the door: and, altering at once his tone and expression, he informed me that he arrested me in the name of the Governor, Sir Hudson Lowe, on the deposition of my servant, who had charged me with having carried on a secret correspondence.

My room was already guarded by dragoons, all representations on my part became useless, I was obliged to yield to violence, and was carried away strongly escorted. The Emperor has since written, as it will be seen hereafter, that, on seeing me from his window, hurried along through the plain, surrounded by armed men, the alacrity of the numerous staff prancing about me, and the rapid undulation of their high feathers floating in the air, had put him in mind of the ferocious joy of the savage inhabitants of the islands of the Pacific Ocean, dancing round the prisoner whom they are about to devour.

I had been separated from my son, who had been detained prisoner in my apartment; but he soon joined me also under escort: so that the sudden interruption and final termination of our communications with Longwood date from that moment. We were both shut up in a wretched hovel, near the former habitation of General Bertrand and his family. I was obliged to sleep on a miserable pallet, and to make room for my poor son by my side, lest he should have to lie on the floor; I considered his life to be at this moment in danger, he was threatened with an aneurism, and had been on the point of expiring in my arms a few days before. We were kept until eleven o’clock without food; and when, in order to supply the wants of my son, I went to the door and to each of the windows to ask the men who guarded them for a morsel of bread, they answered me only by presenting their bayonets.

MY PAPERS ARE EXAMINED, &C.

25th, 26th.—What a terrible night is the first night spent in prison, within four walls! What ideas, what reflections, arise in the mind! My last thought at night, and the first on waking in the morning, had been that I was still only a few minutes’ walk from Longwood, and yet that perhaps I was already separated from it for ever.

In the course of the morning, the Grand Marshal, accompanied by an officer, passed within hail of my hovel. I was enabled to ask him from my dungeon how the Emperor was. The Grand Marshal was going to the Governor’s at Plantation House. His visit was undoubtedly on my account, but what could be the object of his mission? What were the ideas and the wishes of the Emperor on the subject? This occupied all my thoughts. On passing again, on his return, the Grand Marshal, with an expression of melancholy, made a sign to me, which gave me the idea of bidding me adieu, and which went to my heart. In the course of the morning, General Gourgaud and M. de Montholon also came as far as the late residence of Madame Bertrand, which was opposite to my prison, and not far from it. It was consolatory to me to see and to interpret their signs of friendship and tender interest. They solicited in vain to be allowed to come into my prison; they were obliged to return without having succeeded. Shortly afterwards, Madame Bertrand sent me some oranges, informing me, at the same time, that she had just received indirectly some news of my wife, and that she was in good health. These attentions, these demonstrations of kindness, from all my companions, were to me a proof that the first appearance of misfortune is sufficient to awaken the feelings of family affection, and I found some consolation at this moment in being a prisoner.

No time had been lost in my late apartment, after my arrest: a police officer (a recent importation into the colony, and, I presume, the first attempt of the kind that had been made on British ground) had made his first essay on me. He had searched my secretaire, broken open my drawers, and seized all my papers; and, anxious to shew his dexterity and the extent of his abilities, he had immediately set about undoing our beds, and taking my sofa to pieces, and even spoke of taking up the flooring.

The Governor, having got possession of all my papers, now proceeded to produce them to me in triumph. He went into the late house of Madame Bertrand, opposite to me, followed by eight or ten officers, and sent to ask me whether I would go over and there be present at the inventory which was to be made of them, or whether I preferred that he should come to me. I replied that since he left me the option, the latter plan would be most agreeable to me. Every body being seated, I rose to protest most positively against the indecorous manner in which I had been taken away from Longwood, against the illegality of sealing up my papers in my absence, and against the violation about to be committed on my private papers, the sacred depositories of my thoughts, which should exist for me only, and which had remained to this day a secret to all the world. I protested against the abuse that might be made of their contents by power; I told Sir Hudson Lowe that, if he thought that the circumstances of the case required that he should examine them, he must use his own discretion; that I had no fear of the consequences; but that I owed to myself and to general principles to throw the responsibility of the act entirely upon him, to yield only to violence, and not to authorize it by my consent.

These words, uttered by me in presence of all his officers, irritated the Governor, who exclaimed, “Count Las Cases, do not render your situation worse than it is; it is bad enough already!” alluding probably to the punishment of death, which he often reminded us of our being liable to, if we assisted in endeavouring to effect the escape of the great Captive. He concluded, no doubt, that my papers would produce the most important discoveries: God knows how far his ideas might go on that subject.

Before Sir Hudson began to read my papers, he called General Bingham, the second in command in the island, to assist personally in their perusal; but that officer’s ideas of delicacy differed entirely from those of the Governor. “Sir Hudson Lowe,” answered he, with a marked expression of disgust, “I beg you will excuse me, I do not think that I shall be able to read that kind of French hand-writing.”

I had, in fact, no real objection to the Governor’s examining my papers; and I therefore told him that, not in his capacity of judge or magistrate, for he was neither the one nor the other to me, but of my own accord and out of pure condescension, I thought proper to allow him to read them. He fell immediately upon my Journal. His joy and his expectations may be imagined, when he perceived that it would inform him, day by day, of all that happened among us at Longwood. It was sufficiently arranged to have a table of contents, or index to the subjects at the beginning of each month. Sir Hudson Lowe, on meeting frequently with his name, would immediately refer to the page pointed out in the index to read the details; and I could not help observing to him that if he found it often necessary to use forbearance, it was not my fault, but the fault of his own indiscretion. I assured him that my Journal was not known to any body; that the Emperor himself, who was the sole subject of it, had only read the first pages of it; that its contexture was far from being settled, and that it was intended to remain, for some time to come, a secret known to myself only.

After Sir Hudson Lowe had spent two or three hours in looking over my Journal, I told him that my intention had been to enable him to form a correct idea of the nature of its contents, and that, having now done so, I felt bound, for many reasons, to prohibit, as far as it was in my power, his going any further; that he could of course do as he pleased, but that I should protest against the violence he would thus exercise, and the abuse of his authority. I could easily perceive that this was a great disappointment to him; he even hesitated: however, my protest produced its effect, and my Journal was not touched again. I might have extended the protest to all my other papers, but I did not care much about them; and they were, during several days, most minutely examined.

I had my last will sealed up: I was obliged to open it as well as other papers equally sacred. Having got to the bottom of a portfolio containing some things which I had not ventured to look at since my absence from Europe, I was obliged to open them. This day was to be a day of emotion to me: the sight of these objects awoke in my breast some old recollections which my courage had stifled, since certain painful separations had taken place. I was affected, and obliged to hasten out of the room. My son, who remained in it, told me afterwards that the Governor himself had appeared somewhat affected by this circumstance.

MY REMOVAL TO BALCOMBE’S COTTAGE.

From 28th to 30th.—This day, 28th, we have been removed from our wretched hovel to a kind of cottage belonging to Mr. Balcombe, our former host when at Briars, and situated about a league distant. The house was small, but very tolerable, and situated opposite to Longwood, and at a short distance from it: we were only separated from it by several ridges of precipices and steep summits of mountains. We were guarded by a detachment of the sixty-sixth regiment; numerous sentinels watched over us, and forbade the approach to our prison. An officer was at our disposal, Sir Hudson Lowe obligingly said, and, as he affirmed, for our convenience. All communications were strictly intercepted; we were placed in a state of the most absolute seclusion. On the summit of the hills which surrounded the hollow in which our house was situated, there was a road on which we saw to-day General Gourgaud, accompanied by an English officer. We could observe his efforts to come as near to us as possible, and we received with feelings of joy and affection the signs and demonstrations of friendship which our companion addressed to us from that distance, and returned ours to him in the same manner. The kind and excellent Madame Bertrand sent us again some oranges: we were not allowed to write to her to thank her, and were obliged to confine the expression of our gratitude by sending her some roses which we had gathered in our prison.

The next day Sir Hudson Lowe came to see us in our new residence. He wished to know what kind of bed I had had, and I took him to the next room and shewed him a mattress on the floor. The same kind of attention had been bestowed upon our food. “I mention these things to you,” said I, “because you have asked me; but, for my part, I do not care about them.” He then grew very angry with the person to whom he had intrusted the superintendence of our establishment here, and sent us our meals from his own table at Plantation House, although a distance of two leagues, and continued so to do until our wants were regularly provided for.

It became necessary to devise some occupation in our new prison, to enable us to bear the weight of time. I divided our hours so as to fill up our days: I regularly gave lessons in history and mathematics to my son; we read, and, during our intervals of leisure, we walked about our enclosure. The place was agreeable enough for St. Helena, it contained some verdure and a few trees. A great number of common fowls, which were rearing for the consumption of Longwood, were kept there, as well as some Guinea fowls, and other large birds, which we soon rendered tame: prisoners are ingenious and compassionate. In the evening, we used to light a fire, and then I related to my son some family stories; I informed him of my family concerns, and mentioned to him, and made him take down the names of those persons who had shewn themselves kind to me during the course of my life, or had rendered me any service. In short, our life was dull and melancholy, but so calm that it was not devoid of a kind of pleasurable feeling. One idea alone was exceedingly painful, and haunted us continually: the Emperor was there almost within sight, and yet we inhabited two distinct worlds; we were separated only by a short distance, and yet all communication had ceased! There was something horrible in this situation; I was no longer with him, and I was not with my family, which I had left to follow him. What then remained to me? My son shared in these feelings: urged by this situation, and by the enthusiasm of youth, the dear boy offered to me, in a moment of excitement, to take advantage of the darkness of night, to elude the vigilance of our guards, descend the numerous precipices, and scale the steep heights which parted us from Longwood, see Napoleon, and bring me back some news from him, which he engaged to do before day-light. I calmed this zeal, which, even had it rendered the attempt practicable, would have produced no other result than a feeling of personal satisfaction, and might have occasioned the most serious consequences. The Emperor had conversed with me so often and so fully that I did not suppose there was any thing he might wish to inform me of; and if such an attempt by my son had been discovered, what a noise it would have made, what importance would have been attached to it by the Governor, what absurd stories he would have invented and produced! &c.

MY RESOLUTION.—MY LETTERS TO SIR HUDSON
LOWE, &C.

From Sunday December 1st, to Friday December 6th.—The days of our imprisonment were slowly succeeding each other, and the Governor, although he continued to visit us frequently, did not mention any thing concerning our situation: he had merely hinted to me that my residence in the Island and my confinement might be protracted, until instructions were returned from London.

Eight days had nearly elapsed without producing the least approach towards any result whatever. This state of inactivity and passiveness could not agree with the nature of my disposition. The health of my son was at times most alarming. Deprived of all communication with Longwood, I was left alone to meditate by myself. I reflected upon the situation in which I was thus placed, fixed upon a plan, and took a resolution. I chose it, extreme in its nature, thinking that, if it was approved by the Emperor, it might be useful, and that it would be very easy to retrace my steps if he wished it. I thereforetherefore wrote to the Governor the following letter:

“Sir,—In consequence of a snare laid by my servant, I was on the 25th ultimo torn from Longwood, and all my papers were seized, for having infringed your restrictions, to which I had previously submitted. Had you trusted the observance of these restrictions to my word or to my delicacy, I should have considered them as sacred; but you chose to guard them by attaching penalties to their violation, and I chose to run the risk of encountering them. You have applied those penalties at your own discretion, and I have made no objection to it. All this, as far it goes, is perfectly regular; but the measure of punishment should not exceed the measure of the offence. What is now the case? Two letters have been delivered for transmission without your knowledge: one of them contains the relation of the events that have occurred to us, written for Prince Lucien, and which would have passed through your hands, if you had not informed me that the continuation of my correspondence and the style of my letters would cause my removal by you from the person of the Emperor. The other letter was merely a letter of friendship. However, this circumstance has placed all my papers at your disposal, you have seen them all, even to the most secret. I have myself so much facilitated your researches that I have consented to allow you to peruse solely upon your word, that which was known only to myself, which is as yet a mass of undigested ideas, undetermined, and liable at every moment to be corrected, or modified; in a word, the secret, the chaos of my thoughts. In so doing I have wished to convince you, and I appeal to your candour, when I say that I hope I have convinced you that, in the multitude of papers which you have hastily looked over, there is nothing that could be considered as tending to interfere with the high and important part of your functions: no plot, no plan, not even a thought relating to Napoleon’s escape. You could not find any, because none existed. We are of opinion that his escape is impossible, and we do not think of it. Yet I will not deny that I should willingly have attempted to effect it, had I seen the possibility of success. I should willingly have sacrificed my life to restore him to liberty. I should have fallen a martyr to my zeal, and my memory would have lived for ever in all noble and generous hearts. But I repeat it, nobody considers the attempt practicable; and nobody thinks of making it. The Emperor Napoleon’s plans and wishes are still those which he formed when he repaired willingly and in good faith on board the Bellerophon, that is, to go and seek a life of tranquillity in America, or even in England, under the protection of the laws.

“These points settled, I protest with all my might against your reading henceforward, I might say all my private papers, but I confine myself to what I call my Journal. I owe it to the great respect which I entertain for the august personage whose name fills its pages, I owe it to the respect due to myself, to state my solemn objection to your so doing. I therefore demand either that those papers may be immediately restored to me, if you think conscientiously that their contents are foreign to the grand object of your administration; or if, from what you have read of them, you consider that certain parts should be laid before the British Ministers, I demand that you will forward them all to England, and send me with them. You, Sir, are so often alluded to in those papers that delicacy imperatively commands you to adopt one of those two alternatives. You cannot possibly endeavour to avail yourself, more than I have allowed you, of this opportunity to read in them what concerns you personally, lest you expose yourself to the conclusions that will be drawn by induction from this abuse of your authority, lest the circumstance be thought connected with the trap laid for me, and with the great stir that has been made about such a trifle. As soon as I shall have arrived in England with these papers, I shall ask the Ministers in their turn, and I shall appeal to the whole world, whether any importance can be attached, in the eye of the law, to a document recording day by day, with all the negligence warranted by strict privacy, the conversation, the words, and perhaps even the gestures, of the Emperor Napoleon? I shall ask them particularly whether I have not a right to demand of them the most inviolable secrecy concerning every part of a Journal, which is only the rough draught of my thoughts, which properly speaking does not exist, which contains only materials yet undigested; which I might without scruple disavow in almost every particular, as being as yet far from being settled in my own mind, and in which it happened to me, every day, to have to correct by the tenor of a new conversation the errors of a former one, errors that must be unavoidable and of frequent occurrence both with respect to the man who speaks without knowing that he is observed, and to the man who collects without considering himself bound to warrant the authenticity of his information. As for what concerns you, Sir, in those pages, if you have frequently had occasion to complain of the opinions I have pronounced, or the facts I have stated, it is very easy to point out, between man and man, the errors into which I may have fallen. You cannot possibly afford me a greater pleasure than by giving me an opportunity of being just; and whatever be the opinion in which I persist, after your explanation, you will at least be obliged to acknowledge my candour and sincerity. Be that as it may, Sir, and whatever be your intentions with respect to me, I from this moment withdraw, in as far as my present position will admit, from the state of voluntary subjection in which I had placed myself towards you. When I entered into that engagement, you told me that I remained at liberty to retract it at any time; and I therefore, from the present moment, desire to be restored to the common class of citizens. I place myself once more under the operation of your civil laws; I appeal to your tribunals, not to implore their favour, but their justice and their judgment. I presume, General, that you have too much respect for the laws, and too much innate justice in your heart, to make it necessary for me so far to insult you as to observe, that you would become responsible for all violations of the law that may be exercised against me directly or indirectly. I do not suppose that the letter of your instructions, which might induce you to detain me a prisoner here or at the Cape during several months, could shelter you from the spirit of those same instructions, appealed to by the power, the superiority, the majesty of the laws.

“Those instructions, if I have rightly understood them, in ordering you to detain every person having belonged to the establishment at Longwood, during a certain time before you restore them to liberty, have only for their object, no doubt, to derange the communications that might have been held with that horrible prison, and to let some time elapse after their cessation. Now the manner in which I have been torn away has been sufficient to attain that end. It was impossible for me to bring away any idea of the moment. I was, as it were, struck with sudden death. Besides, if I am sent to England under accusation, and submitted to the operation of the laws, they will, if I am found guilty, sufficiently obviate the inconvenience which it has been sought to avoid. If I am not guilty, I shall still be exposed to the provisions of the Alien Act; or, if that is not enough, I here give beforehand my voluntary assent to all precautions, however arbitrary they may be, which it may be thought proper to adopt against me on this occasion.

“Without yet knowing, Sir, what your intentions may be with respect to the disposal of my person, I have already imposed upon myself the greatest of all sacrifices. I am still very near to Longwood, and perhaps I am already separated from it by eternity; horrible thought, that harrows up my soul, and will continue to haunt my imagination!... But a few days ago, and you would have brought me to submit to the greatest sacrifices, by the fear of being removed from the Emperor’s person; to-day, it is not in your power to restore me to him. A stain has been affixed upon me, by arresting me almost within his sight, I can no longer be a source of consolation to him; he would only see in me a being dishonoured, suggesting painful recollections. And yet his presence, the attentions which I delighted to pay him, are dearer to me than my life. But perhaps, some pity will be shewn to me from afar! Something tells me that I shall return; but by a purified channel, bringing with me all that is dear to my existence, to assist me in surrounding with pious and tender cares the immortal monument placed at the extremity of the universe, and slowly consuming by the inclemency of the climate and the perfidy and cruelty of mankind. You have spokenspoken to me, Sir, of your own afflictions; we do not suspect that you have mentioned all the tribulations with which you are assailed; but every one knows and feels his own misery only. You do not suspect, on your side, Sir, that you keep Longwood covered with the veil of mourning. I have the honour,” &c.

A correspondence being once established with Sir Hudson Lowe, I did not remain idle. The following day I wrote to him again, to tell him that, in consequence of my letter of the preceding day, I now officially and in due form demanded my removal from St. Helena and my return to Europe. On the following day, I took up the same subject, and treated it with reference to my situation, as affecting my domestic concerns.

“In my two preceding letters,” said I to him, “both relating to my political situation, I thought it improper and unbecoming to introduce a single word touching my private affairs; but now that I consider myself as belonging once more to the mass of common citizens, I do not hesitate, as an accidental inhabitant of your island, to represent to you all the horrors of my private situation. You are aware of the dangerous state of my son’s health: it must have been reported to you by the medical men. Ever since he has seen the dear and sacred tie which bound us to Longwood dissolved, all his ideas, all his wishes, all his hopes, are ardently turned towards Europe, and his disease will be increased by impatience and the power of imagination. Such is his physical situation, which renders my moral situation still worse, if possible. I have to contend at one and the same time against the feelings of my heart and the uneasiness of my mind. I cannot consider, without a feeling of terror, that I am responsible to myself for having brought him hither, and for being the cause of his being detained here. What should I answer to his mother, who would ask me for her son? What should I reply to the multitude of idlers and others, who, though indifferent to the circumstances, are ever ready to judge and condemn? I say nothing of my own health, it is of little importance amidst such emotions, and such causes of anxiety. And yet, I find myself in a most deplorable state; for, since I have no longer before my eyes the cause which kept the faculties of my mind in action, my body sinks under the dreadful havoc produced by eighteen months’ struggles, agitations, and afflictions, such as the imagination can hardly dwell upon. I am no longer near the august personage for whom I cheerfully endured them, and I am nevertheless also separated from my family, whose absence has caused me so much sorrow. Deprived of both objects, my heart is torn between them; it wanders in an abyss; it can no longer endure this situation. I leave you, Sir, to weigh these considerations. Do not sacrifice two victims. I request that you will send us to England, to the source of science and of every kind of assistance. This is the first demand of any kind, that I have made either of yourself or your predecessor. But the deplorable state of my son’s health overpowers my stoicism; will it not awaken your humanity? Several motives may tend to influence your decision: they are all contained in my letter of 30th November. I shall merely add here that an opportunity now offers for you to give a great and rare example of impartiality, in sending thus to your Ministers one of your adversaries.“

After having received these two letters, Sir Hudson Lowe called upon me, and with reference to the first, he immediately denied having laid any trap for me through the medium of my servant. He however admitted that appearances warranted my suspicions.

Sir Hudson Lowe, afterwards, went on to discuss verbally some passages of my letters, dwelling particularly upon certain expressions, which, he represented to me in a friendly manner, could not but be unpleasant to him. He found me not only on this, but on several other occasions of the same nature, perfectly accommodating. My answer to his observations was generally to take up the pen immediately, and erase or modify the expressions that displeased him.

I omit a pretty voluminous correspondence upon the same subject; I shall merely state that, in general, Sir Hudson Lowe avoided giving a written answer, and that his custom was to come, as it has just been seen, to converse with me respectingrespecting the letters he had just received, and obtain some erasures, after which he retired, saying that he would soon give a circumstantial answer: this he did not do at the time, and has never done since; but, as I have been informed from England, he now pays periodical papers, or occasional libellers, to abuse my work, and to revile its author.

As, in the numerous verbal discussions to which my letters gave rise, Sir Hudson Lowe did not, with the exception of the erasure of a few expressions, obtain any important concession, or attain any of the objects which he had in view; he would, on leaving me, represent me as a man of deep cunning, and, as he affirmed, very much to be feared: for with him a man was very cunning, very crafty, and very dangerous, who had sense enough not to yield blindly to all his views, or to fall into his snares. However, the following is the only trick I ever played him. The idleness and rigour of captivity sharpen the invention; besides, it was all fair between us: the incontestable right of a prisoner is to endeavour to deceive his gaoler.

I said, at the beginning of this work, that the Emperor at the moment of our departure for St. Helena, had secretly intrusted me with a necklace of diamonds of very considerable value.

The habit of carrying it about me for such a length of time had brought me to think no more about it, so that it was only after several days of seclusion, and quite by chance, that I thought of it. Closely watched as I was, I could not see any possibility of being able to restore it to the Emperor, who had no doubt forgotten it as well as myself. After having thought a great deal on the subject, I contrived to make use of Sir Hudson Lowe himself for that purpose. I requested to be allowed to bid my companions farewell, and wrote the following letter to the Grand Marshal:—

”Sir,—Torn from the midst of you all, left to myself, deprived of all communication whatever, I have been obliged to found my decisions on my own judgment and my own feelings. I have addressed them officially to Sir Hudson Lowe, on the 30th of November. In return for the liberty which I am allowed, I abstain from saying a single word about it, and rely upon the delicacy of the high authorities to communicate to you the whole of my letter, if any part of it should ever be mentioned or alluded to—I resign myself to my fate.

“It only remains for me to request you will lay at the Emperor’s feet the assurance of my respect, veneration, and affection: my life is still entirely devoted to him. I shall never enjoy any happiness but near his august person.

“In the unfortunate state of penury to which you are all reduced, I should have most ardently wished to leave behind me some of my wife’s jewels ... a necklace ... the widow’s mite! But how shall I venture to offer it?... I have often made the offer of the four thousand louis which I possess in England at my disposal, that offer I now again renew; my position, whatever it be, cannot produce any alteration in my intention. I shall henceforward be proud to be in want! Once more, Sir, assure the Emperor of my entire devotion to his person, of my fidelity and unshaken constancy....

“And you, my dear companions of Longwood, let me ever live in your recollection! I know the privations and afflictions to which you are exposed; and my heart bleeds for you. With you, I was of little importance; far from you, you shall know my zeal and my tender solicitude, if they have humanity enough to allow me to exercise them. I embrace you all very affectionately, and request you will add for yourself, Sir, the assurance of my respect and consideration.

“P.S. This letter has been ready for you some time;time; it was written when I thought I was going to be removed hence. To-day the Governor, in giving me permission to send it to you, informs me that I am to wait here, until answers shall have arrived from England. Thus I shall be for months at St. Helena, and yet Longwood will cease to exist for me; a new species of torment which I had not thought of!”

Sir Hudson Lowe, to whom I delivered this letter open, for such was his condition, read it, approved it, and was kind enough to undertake to deliver it himself, a circumstance which had the effect of exciting the Emperor’s attention, and which contributed, in a great measure, though indirectly, to cause the deposit to be restored to Napoleon.

A register was made of all letters from my London friends, in order to ascertain in the public offices whether any had arrived by indirect modes of conveyance. I had commenced a second letter to Prince Lucien; the Governor laid particular stress upon it. It was in vain I represented to him that it was full of erasures, and crowded with pencil notes almost effaced; that it had not been written, and did not therefore exist in reality; that I might disown it without scruple; that it was impossible to make any legal or honest use of it: he persisted in having some parts of the letter copied; God knows for what purpose!

He was much puzzled by a note of the Lieutenant-Governor’s lady. On quitting St. Helena for England, she had told us that the law forbade her taking charge of any letter; but that she would have great pleasure in being useful to us in any other way. I had sent to her, for my London friends, some articles which had been used by the Emperor, or which had come from himself. A small silver inkstand, I believe, some words in his hand-writing, perhaps some of his hair; I know not what. These I called precious relics. Mrs. Skelton had replied that she would treat them with all the respect they deserved, but that she must confess to me she had not been able to resist the temptation of taking a small portion of them.

Sir Hudson Lowe could not account for my being either unable or unwilling to state what those precious objects were. I should be mortified if they should have brought any disagreeable consequences on this lady. I had merely kept the note in memory, and in token of respect for her. Mr. and Mrs. Skelton were a moral and virtuous couple, whom we had much injured, though undoubtedly against our wish; but their politeness and attention to us had constantly increased with the harm we did them. Our arrival in the island had caused their being dispossessed of Longwood, losing their situation, and being sent back to Europe, where they must be without a provision.

At last, after a time, the famous clandestine documents came out in their turn: my letter to Prince Lucien, and the one to my London acquaintance. Sir Hudson Lowe had caused them to be carefully copied, but with many chasms, from not having been able to read all, certain words being found effaced upon the satin, owing to the documents having been accidentally wetted since I had parted with them. I carried my complaisance and good nature so far as to restore them; and then a sort of interrogatory commenced.

The Governor’s attention was much engaged by two points, which he had it deeply at heart to clear up, if, he said, I had no objection to it. The first question was relative to these words of my letter to Prince Lucien: “Those who surround us complain bitterly that their letters are falsified in the public papers,” &c. It was asked of me who these persons were. The Aide-de-camp held his pen to take down my answers. I desired he would write that, seeing no inconvenience in answering, I would do so, but entirely of my own accord; for that, if the Governor thought to question by virtue of his authority, I should be silent; and I then said, “that those words of my letter were vague, general, and without any application whatever; that they were what had been said to us by every one, when they sought to console us for the very improper expressions or descriptions regarding us, which we occasionally found in the London papers, under the date of St. Helena.”

The Governor’s second question applied to my private letter. It contained, amongst others, a request to ask Lord Holland whether he had received the parcels I had directed to him. Sir Hudson Lowe inquired what those parcels were, and by whom I had forwarded them, &c.; and here he visibly redoubled the mildness of his deportment, in order to obtain a satisfactory answer, confessing that he had no right to compel me to reply; but it would be, he said, the means of materially expediting and simplifying my own affair, &c. I replied, rather in a solemn manner, that this point was my secret, which evidently created an impression upon the physiognomy of Sir Hudson Lowe; and, my words being taken down as I uttered them, I continued to dictate, adding that the answer I had just given was only that which my education and habits prompted me to give, that any other might have given rise to the Governor’s doubts, and that it was not proper I should expose the veracity of my words to the smallest suspicion; that, after this preliminary statement, however, I had no longer any objection to declare that I never, in all my life, had any communication with Lord Holland. This unexpected conclusion was a 16th.—More than twenty days had elapsed, and nothing as yet announced any change in our dreadful situation. My son’s illness continued to exhibit the most alarming symptoms; my health was visibly declining through grief and anxiety. Our confinement was so strict that we had not yet heard a single word from Longwood; I was quite ignorant how my unfortunate affair had been interpreted there; I had merely learnt that the Emperor had not left his apartment during the last fifteen or eighteen days and had almost always taken his meals there alone. What did I not suffer from these circumstances! The Emperor had evidently been affected, but in what manner? Shall I own it? this doubt was, to me, a source of absolute torment; it haunted me at every moment since I had quitted Longwood: for the Emperor was perfectly ignorant of the cause of my being carried off; fate had so ordained it. What would he have thought, on hearing about my clandestine letters? What would have been his opinions, what motive would he assign to my disguise towards him; I, who from habit, would not have stirred a step, or hazarded an expression, without communicating with him? I coupled these faults, which I even exaggerated, with the affecting kindness of the last moments I had passed with him. Some minutes before I was torn away from him, he was more cheerful towards me, seemed even better disposed than usual; and, some moments later, he had perhaps been led to find something mysterious in my conduct. The appearance of the right of reproach and of doubt had perhaps already risen in his mind. This idea grieved me more than I could express, and visibly affected my health. Fortunately, the Governor came to restore me to life. He presented himself towards evening, appearing much taken up with what he had to tell me, and, after a long preamble, which it was difficult for me to understand, he concluded by informing me, that he held in his hand a letter, which my situation gave him the right to withhold from me; but that he knew how dear to me was the hand that wrote it, how much I valued the sentiments which it expressed, and that he was, therefore, going to shew it to me, notwithstanding the many personal motives he might have for not doing so! It was a letter from the Emperor!

Whatever harm Sir Hudson Lowe may have done to us, whatever his motives may have been, at this moment, I owe him a real obligation for the happiness he afforded me; and, when I recollect it, I am tempted to reproach myself for many details and certain imputations; but I owed them to truth, and to considerations of the highest importance. I shewed myself so much affected that he appeared to be moved by it, and consented to my request of being allowed to take a copy of what was strictly personal in the letter. My son copied it in a hurry, so much did we dread lest he should alter his mind; and when he left us, we re-copied it in many ways and in many places; we even learnt it by heart, so great was our fear that the night’s reflections might occasion Sir Hudson Lowe to repent. And, in fact, when he re-appeared the next morning, he expressed to me his regret on the subject; and I did not hesitate to offer to return to him the copy I had taken, assuring him that I should not feel the less grateful. We had ensured to ourselves the means of being generous without inconvenience. Whether he suspected that such was the case, or whether from a continuation of the same kindness, I know not; but he declined my offer. I shall now lay before the reader that letter, the original of which was kept by Sir Hudson Lowe, which he gave me his word should share the same fate as my other papers, and which I nevertheless had all possible trouble to obtain, when the English Government, after Napoleon’s death, thought that they could not avoid restoring my Journal to me. I shall transcribe here those passages of the letter which Sir Hudson Lowe allowed me to copy at the time, and such as they were published after my return to Europe; those parts which he kept back are thrown into the notes, at the bottom of the pages: the two together will form the whole of the original.

“My dear Count de Las Cases,—My heart is deeply affected by what you now experience. Torn from me a fortnight ago, you have been ever since closely confined, without the possibility of my receiving any news from you, or sending you any; without having had any communication with any person, either French or English; deprived even of the attendance of a servant of your own choice.

“Your conduct at St. Helena has been, like the whole of your life, honourable and irreproachable; I have pleasure in giving you this testimony.

“Your letter to one of your friends in London contains nothing reprehensible; you merely disburden your heart into the bosom of friendship.

“Your company was necessary to me. You are the only one that can read, speak, and understand English. How many nights you have watched over me during my illnesses! However, I advise you, and if necessary, I order you, to demand of the Governor of this country to send you to the Continent; he cannot refuse, since he has no power over you, but by virtue of the act which you have voluntarily signed. It will be a great source of consolation to me to know that you are on your way to more favoured climes.

“Once in Europe, whether you proceed to England or return home, endeavour to forget the evils which you have been made to suffer; and boast of the fidelity which you have shewn towards me, and of all the affection I feel for you.

“If you should, some day or other, see my wife and son, embrace them for me; for the last two years, I have had no news from them, either directly or indirectly.

“In the mean time be comforted, and console my friends. My body, it is true, is exposed to the hatred of my enemies; they omit nothing that can contribute to satisfy their vengeance; they make me suffer the protracted tortures of a slow death; but Providence is too just to allow these sufferings to last much longer. The insalubrity of this dreadful climate, the want of every thing that tends to support life, will soon, I feel, put an end to my existence.

“As there is every reason to suppose that you will not be allowed to come and see me before your departure, receive my embrace, and the assurance of my friendship. May you be happy!

“Longwood; 11th December, 1816.” */

REFLECTIONS ON THE EMPEROR’S LETTER.—NEW OBSTACLES
STARTED BY SIR HUDSON LOWE.

From Tuesday, Dec. 17th, to Thursday 19th, 1816.—The Emperor’s letter proved a source of real consolation to me. It was continually present in my thoughts; it dissipated my alarms, strengthened my resolution, and in short it rendered me truly happy. I read it carefully over and over again. I weighed every word it contained. From my own knowledge of the Emperor, I thought that I could guess how he had been induced to write it. I could conceive what would be his uneasiness respecting the cause of my removal, and his surprise on hearing of the clandestine correspondence. From his constant habit of considering things in every possible point of view, I felt convinced that his penetration had enabled him to discover precisely what had taken place, and that he had determined to write to me in consequence. My conjectures on all these points proved to be correct: for I afterwards learned that the Emperor, after some delay, had determined to write to me, without knowing what might be the nature of the papers which had caused my arrest.

Need I say how dearly I prized this letter! I who had so frequently heard the Emperor declare that he would not write to his wife, his mother, or his brothers, since he could not do so without having his letters opened and read by his jailers. But the letter to me had been opened with his own consent and with his own hands; for, after it was sent to Sir Hudson Lowe by the officer on guard, it was returned with the observation that it could not be delivered to me until it should be read and approved by the Governor. The Emperor was reclining on his sofa at the moment when the letter was brought back to him, with this new obstacle. He uttered not a word, but raising his hand over his head, he took the letter, broke the seal, and immediately returned it, without even looking at the person who had presented it.

Another circumstance which rendered this letter valuable in my eyes was that it bore the Emperor’s full signature; and I knew how much he disliked to sign his name at length, in the new circumstances in which he was placed. This, I believe, was the first time he had signed his name at full length since he had been at St. Helena, and, from an inspection of the original, it is easy to perceive that it cost him some degree of consideration. At first he wrote with his own hand, merely the date: “Longwood, December 11, 1816,” concluding with his usual cipher. But, conceiving this to be insufficient, he added, lower down: “your devoted Napoleon,” repeating his cipher. The whole bears evident traces of having been written under feelings of embarrassment.^[27]

But the greatest satisfaction which the Emperor’s letter afforded me was that it pointed out precisely the course which I had previously determined on adopting. “I entreat you, and in case of urgency, I command you, to quit the island,” said the Emperor: and this was exactly what I had resolved to do, during the first days of my seclusion, while separated from all my friends, and having no counsellor but myself. I can no longer, I thought, be of any great service to the Emperor here; but I may, perhaps, be useful to him elsewhere. I will go to England, and appeal to the Ministers. They cannot suspect my conduct to be premeditated; seeing that I have been snatched, as it were, from sudden death. Whatever I say will evidently come from my heart. I will paint the truth, and they cannot but be touched with the miseries I shall unfold to them. They will ameliorate the condition of the illustrious captive, and I will myself return and lay at his feet the consolation which my zeal will have procured.

I therefore resumed my prayers and entreaties; and a circumstance which the more induced me to do so was that my son had just then been seized with a relapse, and had been for half an hour in a state of insensibility, without any other assistance than I was capable of affording him. My distress and anxiety may be easily conceived; and I was myself very much indisposed. I wrote a letter to the Governor, in which I said:—“You reduce me to the utmost possible misery. What a terrible responsibility you are taking upon yourself! You are a father; and alarms like those which now distress me may, perhaps, one day remind you of my unavailing entreaties.” It was evident that, by detaining us, he was hurrying us to our graves. I was unable to conceive what could induce him thus to involve himself in new difficulties; it appeared to me most natural that he should prefer letting us die elsewhere.

Sir Hudson Lowe called that very day. He said that the note he had received respecting my son’s health was the occasion of his visit. He had sent for Dr. Baxter, who arrived soon after him.

In the course of a long conversation, I could very well discern that Sir Hudson Lowe had now some secret object in view with respect to me. We reciprocally sounded each other on various points; and the Governor concluded by observing that he could not send me back to England, because I insisted on carrying my Journal along with me; while, on the other hand, it was claimed by the Emperor, as it had been written by his order. The cunning and absurdity of this reasoning were sufficiently obvious. Then, as if seized by a sudden thought and a momentary feeling of condescension, he added that, if I wished to return to Longwood, he would very willingly agree to it. I trembled to hear this.... However, recollecting the letter and the significant words of the Emperor, I replied that, though the idea of returning to Longwood was wholly contrary to my present intention, yet, if the Emperor expressed a desire to that effect, I should immediately change my resolution. Sir Hudson Lowe observed that he had good reason to believe the Emperor did wish for my return. The Governor’s thoughts were evidently occupied with some new scheme or other respecting me; but I could not guess what it was. I signified that it would be necessary for me to write to Longwood, to learn what were the Emperor’s wishes. To this the Governor did not positively object, but he expressed himself with the utmost obscurity. At length he departed; at least I supposed him gone. He had, however, merely withdrawn for a time, to hold a conference with his confidential officer; after which he came to inform me that, having considered the business, he thought it advisable for me to write to the Grand Marshal on the subject of my return to Longwood, at the same time observing that, according to the manner in which I might express myself in my letter, the Emperor would or would not be induced to signify a wish for my return. This was very certain, and I could not but smile at the observation.

OFFICIAL DECISION RESPECTING MY REMOVAL TO THE
CAPE.—CONDUCT OF SIR HUDSON LOWE.

20th, 21st.—Sir Hudson Lowe, harassed by my incessant appeals to him, and perplexed by the awkward situation in which he had placed himself, began apparently to repent of having made so much noise about so trifling a matter. He evidently wished to see me return to the Emperor, which of course would have relieved him of all embarrassment, and would have put an end to the whole business. Consequently, with the view of inducing me the more speedily to adopt this step, the Governor addressed to me the official decision respecting my removal to the Cape of Good Hope; and this document he accompanied by a letter in which he once more mentioned, in very studied language, the facility he afforded me of returning to Longwood. I have avoided, as far as possible, inserting the documents connected with this correspondence, and have abridged several of my own letters through the fear of fatiguing the reader. However, it is proper that I should produce all that is necessary for the explanation of this affair, and I therefore subjoin the official decision, and the letter to which I have just alluded.

DECLARATION.

“The Governor having duly considered all the circumstances, relative to the affair of Count Las Cases, has adopted the following decision:—

“Count Las Cases having committed a direct and premeditated violation of the regulations established at St. Helena, by virtue of the authority of the British Government, relative to General Bonaparte, in corrupting the fidelity of an inhabitant of the island, so far as to render him, in a criminal and underhand way, the bearer of secret and clandestine letters for Europe; and having thus broken one of the indispensable conditions to which he voluntarily acquiesced when he signed his declaration to obtain leave to reside at St. Helena, the said Count Las Cases has been separated from the person of General Bonaparte; and, in conformity with the instructions of the British Government, he will be transported to the Cape of Good Hope.

“Count Las Cases is permitted to take with him all his property and papers, excepting, however, such of the latter as may have reference to General Bonaparte, since the time he has been under the authority of the British Government, and also such correspondence as may not have passed through the official channel of the English authorities.

“The Governor will await the orders of the British Government respecting those papers, the nature of which may be the subject of dispute.

“Plantation House, Dec. 20, 1816.” */ #/

LETTER FROM SIR HUDSON LOWE, WHICH ACCOMPANIED
THE PRECEDING DOCUMENT.

I immediately acknowledged the receipt of these two documents, at the same time requesting an acknowledgment of the receipt of all my letters, for as yet I had had no intimation of any one of them having been received. Wishing to reply to the Governor’s offer of allowing me to return to Longwood, I instantly addressed a letter on this subject to the Grand Marshal, which I sent to Sir Hudson Lowe, in order that he might peruse it, and forward it to its destination.

It will scarcely be credited that Sir Hudson Lowe sent back this letter. He had drawn a pencil mark across every passage to which he objected, and had reduced the whole to a few lines, thus assuming the privilege of dictating to me what I was to write to Count Bertrand. The returned letter was accompanied by a communication, which the Governor observed would serve as an answer to all my preceding correspondence.

CORRESPONDENCE CONTINUED.—THE GOVERNOR DISCONCERTED
BY MY FINAL DETERMINATION.

22nd, 23rd.—The Governor came to ascertain the effect of his declaration and his two letters. He doubted not that they had produced a great impression, and he calculated on finding my letter to the Grand Marshal ready written, with the corrections he had suggested; which communication, he expected would bring about my return to Longwood. But I coolly informed him that, since he had taken upon himself to dictate to me, I would not write at all. At this, he appeared surprised and disconcerted, and, after some reflection, he went so far as to inquire whether the corrections which he had made were the only obstacles that deterred me. This unusual condescension on his part was a sufficient guide for me. I therefore continued firm; and cut the matter short by observing that, in the evening, he should receive from me my irrevocable determination and the reasons on which it was grounded, together with my remarks on the different letters which he had addressed to me.

My letter was as follows:—

“Sir,—You have sent back to me, with your corrections, the letter which I wrote to Count Bertrand, respecting your verbal offer of granting me permission to return to Longwood. But as it almost always happens here, this offer was sincere only in appearance, and it was doomed to expire in the details of its execution. I was not much surprised at this. After your departure, the other day, when I came to reflect on the offer you had made, I foresaw that the matter would terminate as it really has done. You had the candour to tell me that you could not permit me and the individuals at Longwood to combine our ideas; or, in other words, to ascertain our real wishes. You have, doubtless, very good reasons for this. I say nothing against it; only I cannot suffer myself to be duped, or to be the means of leading into error those who take an interest in my fate.

“You“You are too advantageously situated, Sir, between Longwood and me; and if I must write to Count Bertrand, not my own sentiments, but what you may think proper to dictate, I decline holding any communication with him. I shall regard your offer as never having been made, because it cannot possibly be accepted; and I must refer irrevocably for my thoughts, sentiments, and decisions on this subject, to my letter of the 30th of November.

“You mistake, Sir, if you suppose that I wished for answers to all the arguments and articles contained in my letters. I am aware of the importance of your occupations, and the value of your time, and therefore I merely requested an acknowledgment of the receipt of my letters for the sake of regularity. I presumed you could have no reason to refuse this.

“You seem surprised, Sir, at the deplorable state of my own and my son’s health; and you twice express astonishment that I should not have complained to you on the subject, when I was at Longwood. I thought but little about my health, Sir, when I was at Longwood; and besides, when I felt indisposed, I considered it more advisable to complain to the Doctor than to the Governor. With regard to my son, I am surprised you should have heard nothing of his situation, considering the consultations that have been held on his case, the fits he has had, and the many times he has been bled. Is it to be wondered at if our present circumstances increase our infirmities?

“I now come to your order for my removal to the Cape. I find that all the papers which have any reference to the august individual to whom I have devoted my existence are to be detained. What other papers, Sir, can I be possessed of? What is meant by saying that I am free to carry away all the rest? Is not this making an offer, and yet granting nothing?

“You detain my Journal, the sole and real object of all this misunderstanding; the depository, yet incomplete and incorrect, in which I daily registered all that I thought, saw, or heard. Can any of my papers be more valuable to me than this? You cannot pretend to have been ignorant of its contents, since I suffered you to peruse it for two hours at your own discretion. Will you not be responsible for having abused this privilege? Will you not, perhaps, one day, have to justify yourself for the false notions which you have doubtless transmitted to the English Ministers respecting this manuscript? You have called it a Political Journal. I had no right, you have observed, in the situation in which I was placed, to keep any account of what was said by the Emperor Napoleon, and you particularly object to my having introduced official documents into my Journal. As if all that I saw, read, and heard, did not by right, and without impropriety, belong to my own thoughts, and form a part of my own property, so long as the record was kept private and secret! Who would suppose that such principles could have been imbibed amidst the liberal ideas of England? Do they not rather partake of the odious police maxims of the continent? And, after all, what are the contents of this Journal? It describes the sublime language and conduct of the august individual who is the object of it, the incidents of his life, and also many things which are probably not very agreeable to you! But who will have given publicity to these facts? The whole was to have been re-touched, altered, and corrected. Who has prevented this? However, Sir, you may rest assured, that the circumstances which have just taken place shall never induce me to say any thing concerning you which I do not firmly believe to be true.

“In your decision of the 20th of October, you declare that I shall be removed from Longwood, and sent to the Cape of Good Hope. From the form and language of this decision, it might naturally be supposed that it was hostile to my wishes; while, in reality, you thereby pronounce a sentence which is now, and has been for many days past, foreign to the new question that has risen up between us. You remove from Longwood one who, twenty days ago, withdrew from the subjection to your authority in which he had voluntarily placed himself; and who, for the last eighteen days, has been formally demanding his removal from the island. Who would ever guess these facts from a perusal of your document? You enclose your decision in a letter, in which you leave me the choice of submitting to your sentence or returning to Longwood. But by embracing the happiness which you thus hold out to me, I should secure to you the triumph and satisfaction of being master of my most private papers; I should again become your captive, and should be liable to the same searches and seizures, whenever you might be pleased to make them.... No, Sir! I can make no choice. I can only repeat what I have already said before. I resign myself to the laws. If I am guilty, let me be tried; if I am not guilty, restore me to liberty. If my papers are unconnected with this affair, return them to me. If you think it proper to submit them to serious examination, transmit them to the English Ministers, and let me be sent with them. Besides, as my own and my son’s health imperatively require every kind of medical assistance, I earnestly implore you to send us to England.

“Nothing was more simple than this affair, and yet it has been involved in difficulty. In vain you refer to your instructions; they never can be made to apply to cases so peculiar as this. Your own wavering determination proves to me that your instructions are neither clear nor precise. You wished at first to keep me on the island in solitary confinement and separated from Longwood; you did not think it right to send me to the Cape. You now torture the literal meaning of your instructions, in order to give them a forced interpretation. But recollect that you will be held responsible to your Government for having misconstrued them, and to me for having violated the law in my person. Recollect that most of your measures will ultimately appear to have been vexatious and arbitrary acts. I know not what rights, what resources, your laws will afford me; but I slumber in this ignorance; for I trust they will protect me in some way or other. You expect to be rid of me when I shall be removed to the Cape, separated from my papers, which you intend to detain in your possession. But even should I be kept a prisoner there, the winds shall waft my complaints hitherward. I will make known the mental wounds and bodily sufferings which you will thus have been the means of aggravating; for, if I should be detained at the Cape, it must be through you, either by your direct orders or secret instructions. Sealed papers cannot be opened except in the presence of the party interested. Will you have me brought back from the Cape, for the purpose of breaking the seals that are affixed to mine? Or will you detain me at the Cape until you receive orders to send my papers to England? What object is to be gained by all this? There was, and still is, a simple mode of arranging every thing! My natural disposition to accommodate made me, as it were, anticipate every difficulty. I was ready to obviate all. I would willingly have subjected myself in England to any preliminary measures, however arbitrary, that might have been equivalent to the quarantine of the Cape. The state of my own and my son’s health was a valid reason for so doing.

“The fear of departing from the literal meaning of any particular point in your instructions has, with you, been more powerful than the necessity and the right of yielding to their spirit, to the force of circumstances, and the feelings of humanity. It is not yet too late to grant what I solicit. I am willing to believe that humanity will determine you; and if so I shall remain your debtor. The circumstance of the papers being claimed at Longwood and by me cannot be regarded as a reasonable obstacle. Besides, it may be asked what you have done to remove it? Do you wish that I should myself write on the subject? Three words would suffice to bring us to an understanding.

“At all events, Sir, whatever determination you may come to, whatever vexation you may reserve for me, nothing can be comparable to what I suffer in being detained on this horrible island, separated from the august individual whom I followed hither. The hours and minutes that I pass in this situation are like years in my unfortunate life, and dangerously aggravate my son’s precarious state of health. I therefore again demand, and shall incessantly demand, that you will remove me from this hated place. I am,” &c.

The Governor was very much vexed by my determination of not returning to Longwood, though I could not exactly guess the reason why. However, my resolution was fully confirmed on the following day, when he came to me, and, after a long and very obscure preamble, respecting his sincerity and good intentions, he told me that, to facilitate my communication with Longwood, he would consent to forward my first letter to Count Bertrand, in the form in which I had myself written it; and moreover to send along with it a copy of all my correspondence; a thing which he had hitherto constantly refused to do. But the more he made concessions, the more firmly I rejected them:—“’Tis too late,” said I, “the die is cast. I have pronounced sentence upon myself. I will not write to Longwood, and I demand, for the hundredth time, that you will remove me hence without further delay.”—“At least, then,” said the Governor, “will you communicate to Longwood my offers and your refusal?”—“I have no objection to do that,” I replied. Sir Hudson Lowe then departed, very much disconcerted, mentioning, as a last inducement, that he could only send us away on board a transport, that he did not know when the vessel might sail, and that there was no medical man on board, which would be a serious inconvenience, considering the state of my son’s health.

OUR REMOVAL FROM BALCOMBE’S COTTAGE TO
THE TOWN.

24th.—My son was exceedingly ill during the night, and I was myself very much indisposed. At daybreak I sent to request the immediate attendance of Doctors Baxter and O’Meara; and, in the extremity of my despair, I also wrote to Sir Hudson Lowe, assuring him that it was impossible we could longer endure the treatment we were now suffering. I reminded him that, in spite of my son’s dangerous condition, it was now more than seven days since we had seen a medical attendant; and that, owing to our inconvenient situation, the Doctors, in spite of their good intentions, found it impossible to visit us. I therefore urged the necessity of our quitting the cottage without delay: and I begged that we might be conveyed to the town, even to the common jail, if he found it necessary. This letter produced an immediate effect. I received, on the return of the orderly, a note from the Governor, stating that I should that day be conveyed to his own residence in the town. In the evening, an officer came to conduct us thither. How anxiously did we turn our eyes towards Longwood at the moment of departure! What were our thoughts and sensations as we proceeded along the road! What a wound was inflicted on my heart when, for the last time, I turned to look on Longwood, and saw it gradually disappear from my sight!

OUR RESIDENCE AT THE GOVERNOR’S CASTLE.—BETTER
TREATMENT, &C.

25th to 28th.—We now found ourselves removed to the Governor’s residence, which is called the Castle. It is a spacious building and agreeably situated. Our condition was now changed very much for the better. We were still guarded by sentinels, it is true; but every thing was under my orders, and there seemed to be an endeavour to furnish us profusely with every thing. “Do not spare,” the major-domo often repeated, “the Honourable East India Company pays for all.” But these tardy attentions produced little effect upon me. I had but one object in view, namely, a prompt decision, and that I could not obtain. The Governor came to me every day, but it was merely to utter a few complimentary phrases, and not a word of my affairs. However, it was now indispensable to come to the point. The endless difficulties that had arisen, and my endeavours to avert them, had kept me in a continual state of agitation; and vexation of mind was combined with grief of heart.

I was absolutely in a critical state when I arrived in the town. The Governor was struck with my extreme debility and the change that had taken place in my appearance. Apparently with the intention of rousing me, Sir Hudson Lowe mentioned that the Emperor had expressed a very great wish to see me before my departure. On hearing this, I was deeply moved. My son afterwards informed me that the Governor appeared very much embarrassed by the condition to which he saw me reduced. However, making an effort to collect my strength, I once more begged that Sir Hudson Lowe would give orders for my removal as speedily as possible. He at length determined that my departure should take place two days afterwards. He informed me that he had procured a ship of war, which would be more suitable for my conveyance, while at the same time I should enjoy the advantage of having a medical attendant on board.

THE EMPEROR’S MESSAGE TO ME.—THE GRAND
MARSHAL’S FAREWELL.

29th.—Early this morning, an officer came to request that we would pack up our things to be conveyed on board the ship, as it was determined that we should depart very shortly. This we looked upon as the hour of our deliverance. In a few minutes, all that we possessed was packed up, and we were in perfect readiness. At length the wished-for moment of departure was at hand. How our feelings vary according to the circumstances in which we happen to be placed. But a short time ago I should have considered it the greatest misfortune that could befal me to be separated from the Emperor, and removed from St. Helena. But my late resolutions, the manifest wish of Sir Hudson Lowe, the positive words of the Emperor: “I request you, and in case of need, I command you, to quit this island;” together with other important observations which fell from him in the course of previous conversation, and which I cannot hint at here, though they are entirely foreign to politics; and finally, the chimeras which my own imagination had conjured up; all now caused me to dread the thought of being longer detained. The hour of departure had already been specified; I nevertheless experienced the most cruel suspense, which the Governor seemed to justify by keeping away nearly the whole of the day. Impatience and anxiety had thrown me into a fever; when, about six o’clock in the evening, the Governor, whom I now despaired of seeing, made his appearance. After a little preamble, in his usual way, he informed me that he had brought the Grand Marshal to take leave of me, and he conducted me into the adjoining apartment, where I had the happiness of embracing that esteemed companion of my exile. The Emperor had instructed the Grand Marshal to tell me that “he should see me desert with pleasure, and see me remain with pleasure.” These were his words. He added, that he knew my heart and my sentiments; and that he reposed full and entire confidence in me. As to the chapters of the Campaign of Italy, which I had requested permission to keep as a dear and precious memento, he granted them without hesitation, as well as any thing else that might happen to be in my possession; for he was pleased to say that, while they were in my hands he should consider them as being still in his own. Sir Hudson Lowe was with us during this interview, at which his presence was indispensable. The Grand Marshal commissioned me to make some purchases of books, and other things, necessary or useful to the Emperor, and he particularly requested me to send the Moniteur. Finally, he took leave of me, telling me significantly to act in all things as I should judge best.

As I expected, the friendship of the Grand Marshal served only to increase my distress. He expressed his regret for my departure, and tried to suggest reasons for inducing me to remain. “His absence,” said he, in a very graceful manner, addressing himself to the Governor, “will be regretted by us all. It will be a loss to the Emperor, and it will even be a loss to you, Sir Hudson Lowe. You will soon be convinced of this.” The Governor replied by an approving bow; and both endeavoured to prevail on me to change my resolution. I could easily guess the Governor’s reasons for this; but I could not so well divine the cause of the Grand Marshal’s entreaties, particularly after the message which he had just delivered to me from the Emperor. Besides, he was aware that, in addition to the numerous powerful motives which urged me to depart, Sir Hudson Lowe, as I believe I have already mentioned, offered not the least concession on his part. He insisted on retaining my papers, and required my implicit submission. By this means, I should, as it were, have legalized all his measures. By the precedent thus granted I should have authorized him to seize and imprison any one of us, whenever he might take a fancy to do so. I could not, without the Emperor’s express command, submit to such outrages; and, therefore, I firmly resisted them.

LAST FAREWELL.—SEALING OF MY PAPERS.—DEPARTURE.

30th.—I received an early visit from Admiral Malcolm. He came to introduce me to Capt. Wright, who was to convey me to the Cape, on board the Griffin brig. The Admiral recommended me to Capt. Wright as his friend, and, in a very pleasing manner, assured me that I should have every reason to be satisfied with the endeavours that would be made to render things agreeable to me.

I looked forward to the decisive moment with my usual anxiety; for the Governor betrayed so much eagerness to induce me to remain, that I was fearful he would finally start some unforeseen obstacle to my departure.

About eleven o’clock, the Grand Marshal arrived, accompanied by the Governor and some officers. He renewed his endeavours to prevail on me to return to Longwood; but without ever expressing the positive desire of the Emperor. Knowing my sentiments so well as he did, he must have been aware that a word would have decided me. But this word he did not pronounce, and he even avoided doing so when I pressed him to it, always referring to the Emperor’s message, which he had delivered to me on the preceding day. Thus I had to defend myself against him, from whom I should have wished to receive support. His expressions of regard increased my distress, and I was perplexed between the wish of remaining and the determination of departing. If my heart dictated the one course, courage demanded the other; and I continued inflexible.

I must not forget to mention that the Grand Marshal, in the course of conversation, informed me that the Emperor had wished to see me before my departure. The Governor, however, required that an English officer should be present during our interview; and the Emperor renounced his intention, observing that I well knew he would deny himself the happiness of seeing his own wife and son on such conditions. How was I gratified by these words!...

I delivered to the Grand Marshal thirteen bills of exchange, on my banker in London, for the 4000 louis, which I had so frequently offered to the Emperor, and which the Grand Marshal now informed me he had consented to accept. This was a real consolation to me.

This business being settled, General Gourgaud, who had accompanied the Grand Marshal, was also permitted to enter and take leave of me. This new mark of interest, joined to many others which the General had shewn me during my imprisonment, failed not to produce an impression on my heart.

The Grand Marshal and the General remained with me for a considerable time, and Sir Hudson Lowe had the politeness to say that they might, if they pleased, stay and breakfast with me. He retired, taking with him all his people, with the exception of the officer on duty at Longwood, who had escorted the gentlemen to the castle. This officer was Captain Poppleton, with whose conduct we had always found reason to be perfectly satisfied. During our breakfast, over which we sat for a very long time, we certainly might, in spite of the presence of Captain Poppleton, have found means to make secret communications with each other; but we had none to make, and not a syllable of a private nature passed between us. Had I foreseen this unexpected circumstance, I might have put into my son’s hands the whole of my correspondence with Sir Hudson Lowe, and it might, by this means, have been easily transmitted to Longwood. However, on reflection, I congratulated myself on not having made any such attempt. I still distrusted Sir Hudson Lowe, and, from the endeavours he made to prevail on me to remain, he would certainly have availed himself of such a discovery as an excuse for changing all the arrangements that had been made, and issuing fresh orders.

Breakfast being ended, I was the first who had courage to rise and take farewell. I sent to request that the Governor would come and execute the final measures. I embraced my friends, and they left me. General Gourgaud, at parting, several times feelingly alluded to the little vexations which had occasionally arisen between us. I felt happy in expressing my conviction that they had been wholly occasioned by the painful circumstances in which we were placed, and that our hearts had no share in them. I cherish, with sincere gratitude, the remembrance of the kind attentions which I received from General Gourgaud, during the latter period of my residence at St. Helena.^[28]

Sir Hudson Lowe, on his return, seeing the Grand Marshal and General Gourgaud going out, said to me significantly, and with an appearance of embarrassment and vexation, “So you do not intend to return to Longwood? It may be presumed you have good reasons for refusing to do so.” A bow was my only reply; and I begged that the Governor would immediately proceed to seal up the papers, the only thing that now remained to be done. Some days previously, I had demanded that an authentic inventory of my papers should be made out: this was done; and I obtained a copy of it, signed by Sir Hudson Lowe. All that was now to be done was to affix the seals. The Governor delayed this formality until the last moment, and he concluded it in a way perfectly characteristic of his disposition. He told me, in very fair words, but with an appearance of constraint, that, out of respect for the Emperor, as well as from personal consideration for me, he would willingly permit me to affix my seal to the papers, provided I would consent that he should break it, during my absence, if he thought necessary. I smiled at this proposal, and declined it; upon which he walked with hasty strides up and down the room for some time, and then, as if coming to a sudden determination, he exclaimed, “I will take the whole upon myself; I will dispense with your seal.” He called in the Government Secretary, and the seals of the island were affixed to the papers in my presence. I requested that he would furnish me with a declaration of his refusal to permit me toto seal them with my arms, or the singular condition he had attached to my doing so. This was a new subject of hesitation; but the point was at length settled, by the Governor furnishing me with a declaration, in the following terms:—

DECLARATION OF SIR HUDSON LOWE TO COUNT
DE LAS CASES.

“In consequence of what was stated in the Governor’s decision relative to the affair of Count de Las Cases, a great number of the Count’s papers are now, at the moment of his departure from the island, detained.

“The Governor, whose special duty it is to suffer no papers whatever coming from Longwood to leave the island, without being previously examined, has, however, for private reasons, hitherto abstained from noticing all that were sent by Count Las Cases. The Governor has determined that the papers belonging to the Count, which have been detained (and of which Sir Hudson Lowe knows only the general tenour), shall be put into two separate packets, and deposited in the treasury of the island, until orders be received from Government respecting them.

“Count de Las Cases may affix his seal to each of these packets, with the understanding that the seal may be broken, either in case it should be necessary to convey the packets from the island, in conformity with orders from Government; or in case the interest of the service should require the packets to be opened.

“Thus, the affixing of this seal is merely a moral guarantee, which the Governor offers to Count Las Cases for his own satisfaction, to afford him the assurance of the packets not being opened, except for one of the urgent reasons above specified.

“If, under these circumstances, Count Las Cases should decline affixing his seals to the packets, or refuse to accede to the condition on which the affixing of his seal is permitted, the Governor, who cannot permit any sealed packet, or any papers whatever, coming from Longwood, to pass from his hands, without examination, considers as necessary every precaution calculated to assure his Government that he has adopted proper measures for the security of the papers that are detained, until he shall receive orders respecting them.

“Count Las Cases having refused to affix his seal on the conditions above mentioned, the papers, divided into two distinct packets, have been deposited in two boxes, sealed with the seals of the Government and the Island.

“Dec. 31, 1816.”“Dec. 31, 1816.”

All business being now settled between us, Sir Hudson Lowe, by a characteristic turn of behaviour, which he had oftener than once exhibited since I had been his prisoner, either from motives of civility or calculation, immediately wrote for me several letters of introduction to his private friends at the Cape, who, he assured me, would prove very agreeable to me. I had not the courage to refuse these letters, such was the sincerity with which they appeared to be offered. At length, the long looked-for moment of departure arrived. The Governor accompanied me to the gate of the castle, and ordered all his officers to attend me to the place of embarkation; this, he said, was intended as a mark of respect. I eagerly jumped into the boat which was in readiness to receive me. I crossed the port, and passed near a vessel which had just arrived from the Cape, on board of which, to my surprise, I observed the Pole and the three servants, who had been sent away from us, several months before, and who were now on their way to Europe. They saluted me by gestures as I passed, and I need not say how much I was astonished to see them. One of these individuals was the bearer of the only document which escaped from the island, namely, the letter on the subject of the allied Commissioners. I doubted not but the discovery that had been made with respect to my servant would furnish the Governor with an excuse for searching those persons, who were far from suspecting such a thing. Fortunately, however, no search took place, and the faithful Santini had the merit of being the first to convey to Europe any authentic account of Longwood.

At length I got fairly on board the brig; she weighed anchor; and I thought my last wishes accomplished. But these vain illusions were destined to be cruelly destroyed; and my ultimate experience of the hearts of certain men proved that all the hopes I had formed were but vain chimeras.... How could I so far deceive myself as to rely on the sensibility of those very men, who, in defiance of all law, had pronounced the sentence and ordered the execution?—Why did I not stay to administer domestic consolation, rather than dream of rendering remote services? I might have continued my daily attentions for some time longer, and have obtained some additional marks of interest: and when the fatal moment arrived, I should have had my share in the general grief. I might have contributed to assuage the anguish of Napoleon’s last moments; and have helped to close his eyes!... But no!... Perhaps the effect of the climate operating on my feeble state of health, would soon have hurried me from this world. I should, probably, not have lived to witness the sad event.... I should have been spared the grief that now presses upon my heart.... I should not have had to struggle with the cruel infirmities brought from my place of exile. My ashes would there have reposed in peace; and thus to have closed my life might have been looked upon as an additional favour of my happy star, or the last blessing of Heaven!

This perhaps ought to be the conclusion of my Journal since I am now removed from St. Helena, and can no longer record the words of the Emperor. However, the following pages are so intimately connected with what concerns Napoleon that I am convinced I need offer no apology for continuing.

PASSAGE FROM ST. HELENA TO THE CAPE, A SPACE
OF EIGHTEEN DAYS.—DETAILS, &C.

From Tuesday, Dec. 31st, 1816, to Friday, Jan. 17th, 1817.—When daylight appeared, St. Helena no longer existed for us, except in our hearts.—We were rapidly sailing away from that dear and accursed spot, in the midst of the ocean, and at an immense distance from both the old and the new world. The officers and the crew treated us with the most marked kindness; their care, their attention, their deference, the sympathy they expressed were such that, but for the language which I heard spoken, I might have fancied myself on board a French vessel. To the shyness and circumspection of St. Helena had succeeded a complete freedom from restraint. I then learnt how much I was indebted to Admiral Malcolm. It was he who had obtained for me the favour of a brig of war, instead of the wretched transport with which I had been threatened. As soon as he was apprized of Sir Hudson Lowe’s determination, he hastened to offer him one of his ships, assuring him that he could spare one, to save me from the inconveniences and the privations to which I should otherwise be exposed; and, making a signal, he ordered into the harbour the Griffin, the commander of which was one of the officers whom he most liked. It has already been seen that the Admiral brought him with him to see me.

My son devoted part of our passage to copying some papers which we had purposely torn, and the fragments of which we had distributed in various places amongst our baggage, or about our persons. Sir Hudson Lowe had rendered the precaution necessary, by informing me a short time before that he should again search my papers before my departure, in order to see what I might have written during my captivity.

The most important of these papers, the document I valued most, was what I have called a statement of our grievances at Longwood.

Whilst I was in Sir Hudson Lowe’s power, our conversations led me, at his own request, to make out a hasty statement enumerating our grievances. My son’s ill health, and the state of my eyes, prevented us from taking a fair copy of that statement for ourselves. I had asked the Governor to let me have some person to copy for me, which request he did not comply with, and I did not think it delicate to insist; since it was to lay before him a statement, which must be very unpleasant to him. On the other hand, as I was speaking without the knowledge of my companions, and yet frequently in their names, it was of great importance to me that they should be acquainted with what I said, in order to set me right if I had made any errors.

At the moment of my departure, I told Sir Hudson Lowe that I had completed the statement, and shewed him the parcel sealed, the contents of which, I said, I proposed to have copied at the Cape, or even on board the brig, and to send him two copies, one for himself and one for Longwood. Sir Hudson appeared to value the offer very much, but preferring, however, another arrangement, it was agreed that I should immediately deposit my manuscript in the hands of a third person, in order that each party might take a copy of it, and that the original should afterwards be returned to me. I therefore sought some person whose honourable disposition inspired me with confidence: General Bingham, the second in command in the Island, was the first person I thought of. To him I therefore addressed my manuscript, with the Governor’s consent, and under the express condition that it should be shewn at the same time to Sir Hudson Lowe and to Count Bertrand, who was aware of the arrangement.

I heard no more of this statement until six years afterwards, and then only through the medium of Dr. O’Meara’s work. The gentlemen of the Emperor’s suite, on their return from St. Helena, informed me that it had never been communicated to them, and that the Emperor was wholly ignorant of its contents. It appears that, after my departure, Sir Hudson Lowe, by the influence of his authority, and contrary to our express conditions, had taken the manuscript exclusively into his own possession, and had made it the subject of false interpretations or wicked inventions.

Mr. O’Meara, in his account of the occurrences at St. Helena, observes that Sir H. Lowe, availing himself of the information acquired by the perusal of the manuscript (the grievances), had recourse to an artifice well worthy of the system which he set on foot. He directed Mr. O’Meara to inform Napoleon that, during my confinement, I had confessed that the restrictions imposed on the French at Longwood were merely matters of form; and that I, as well as the rest of the French, had endeavoured to poison the mind of our Master, by means of calumny and falsehood; adding that this fact was unquestionable, since he had it stated in my own hand-writing. He even pretended to quote a sentence of this manuscript, which he requested Mr. O’Meara to repeat to the Emperor, and by which he wished to make it appear that I had confessed that the French about the person of the Emperor had made him view every thing through a blood-stained veil. On hearing this, the Emperor observed: Certainly, wherever one sees an executioner, one sees blood. And he added that he was convinced this was an invention of Sir Hudson Lowe’s, or a misrepresentation of some passage in my statement. On this occasion, Mr. O’Meara describes the Emperor to have said,said, “Las Cases certainly was greatly irritated against him (Sir H. Lowe), and contributed materially towards forming the impression existing upon my mind, because Las Cases is a man of feeling, and extremely sensible to the ill treatment practised towards me and himself. But I had no occasion for the assistance of Las Cases towards giving me that opinion, as the treatment I experienced was fully sufficient in itself to create it.”

He observed that I had constantly spoken to him of the English nation in terms of enthusiasm and admiration; though I certainly had expressed myself candidly and energetically respecting the treatment which the French had experienced at St. Helena, which I considered to be entirely contrary to the generosity and liberal sentiments of the English people.

In Mr. O’Meara’s work, entitled Napoleon in Exile, I find it mentioned, under date of Dec. 4, 1816, that Sir Hudson Lowe said,said, “I had much altered my opinion concerning him since the intercourse we had had together;” and he added that the French who were with General Bonaparte “only“only wanted to make an instrument of him, to aggrandize themselves, without caring by what means they effected it,” &c. Sir H. Lowe wished that Mr. O’Meara should signify this to the Emperor.

Under date of the 12th of Dec., Sir Hudson Lowe is described as having said that “Count Las Cases had not followed General Bonaparte out of affection;” and that “General Bonaparte did not know what Las Cases had written, or the expressions which had dropped from him.”

Again, under date of Jan. 14, 1817, Mr. O’Meara says: “His Excellency began to inveigh against Count Las Cases, whom he accused of having been the cause of much mischief between Bonaparte and himself. He said the Count had asserted in his Journal that Bonaparte had declared he abhorred the sight of the British uniform, or of a British officer; that he held both in abomination, and that I had better take an opportunity to tell him this, and add that I had heard him (the Governor) say that he did not believe he had ever said so.”

Finally, on another occasion, the Governor charged Mr. O’Meara to repeat, at Longwood that he had written to the English Ministers respecting me in such a way as would for ever prevent my return to France. What he could have written, Heaven knows! However, the result proved that either the English Ministers were not much influenced by his benevolent intentions, or that the French Ministers paid little regard to the representations that were made to them. It will hereafter be seen that, on my return to Europe, when I was prevented from residing in England, and it was left at my own option to proceed either to Calais or Ostend, I made choice of the latter place, for reasons totally foreign from the alarm which Sir Hudson Lowe pretended he had created. But, it would appear that he himself doubted the efficacy of his denunciation, or he had recourse to two-fold precautions, for he employed all his art and address to procure my detention as a prisoner at the Cape of Good Hope. I have been informed that, when speaking to his man of all-work respecting me, he said—“As for him, he will trouble us no more. We have given him good recommendations to the Cape: he will rot in a dungeon there.” This same man, with the gentle smile and honeyed voice which rarely forsook him, wished, as Mr. O’Meara declares, that Napoleon should be put in irons if he proved troublesome: and, on another occasion, he is stated to have said, “That the Allies lost sight of a grand object in not strangling young Napoleon!”

But to return to my former subject. How was I to reconcile the Governor’s politeness, his protestations of kindness and good intention when he was near me, with his false reports, the invented language which he attributed to me, and the wicked suggestions which he transmitted to Longwood, when I was no longer there? Let candid and honest hearts decide this.

The Cape of Good Hope is five hundred leagues from St. Helena; but, even with the most favourable winds, the passage must be lengthened to at least seven hundred, by the circuitous course which it is necessary to take on account of the trade-winds. A vessel, on leaving St. Helena, first stands well out to the south-west, in order to get as speedily as possible out of the Zone of the trade winds. As soon as the variable winds are attained, the ship steers towards the east, but descending considerably to the south, several degrees of latitude below the Cape, in order to guard against the south-easterly winds, which blow with great violence at this season of the year.

We had a very good voyage, and fell in with the winds just as we wished. Our passage was short and pleasant, though my son and I occasionally suffered severely from sea-sickness. On the 6th or 7th we got out of the trade winds, and fell in with the west wind, which brought us to our place of destination in nine or ten days. It was not until we were approaching the famous Cape of Storms that we encountered a violent adverse wind, blowing from the south-east, accompanied by a very rough sea. But this circumstance was adverse only with respect to the instructions of our Captain; to me, personally, it was extremely fortunate. Sir Hudson Lowe had directed the Captain to land me beyond the Cape, at Simon’s Bay, which is situated behind it. Probably he supposed that, by not entering the town, I should attract the less attention, and that the injustice of my captivity would be the less flagrant. Be this as it may, we were threatened with a storm, and the Captain took upon himself the responsibility of sailing for Cape Town, which was nearer at hand. We arrived off the coast at two in the morning, precisely at the hour which the Captain had foretold, without sounding or any other preliminary measure. Captain Wright is an excellent seaman; he possesses activity, zeal, regularity, and decision; and will, I doubt not, one day rise to eminence. I have observed that this nautical precision is now nearly general among the English. I know not what has been done in our navy, which was so long celebrated for scientific superiority; but I can affirm, from experience, that the English have attained great perfection. Their calculations are so correct, and their nautical instruments so perfect, that it is difficult to conceive that science is susceptible of further improvement.

We cast anchor at two o’clock in the afternoon on the 17th, after a passage of eighteen days. The Captain politely apologized for the necessity of detaining me on board, until he should go and receive the Governor’s orders: such were his instructions. He returned, informing me that I could not land until the 19th, as the residence which was intended for me could not be prepared before that time. This was rather a disappointment to me; for, after a sea voyage, one is naturally eager to set foot on land.

Thus I had to remain two days in the harbour of the Cape, which is extremely beautiful. The weather was delightful; excessively hot, it is true, but the air was at the same time pure and refreshing.

In my youth, when I first entered the navy, I had frequently heard officers who had served in India describe all the different points which were at this moment before my eyes. I felt a pleasure in reviving these old recollections; and all the places I mentioned were immediately pointed out to me by the persons on board the ship.

Cape Town is a tolerably extensive place, and is built in a style of beauty and regularity. It is situated on flat ground, very little above the level of the sea, and is almost closely surrounded by huge precipitous mountains. On my left was the Devil’s Mountain; before me rose the Table Mountain; and on my right were the Sugarloaf, and the Lion’s Rump, so called from their exact resemblance to the objects after which they are named. The fortifications in front and on each side of the town appeared to me to be in a very bad state, and particularly ill situated, being commanded by several points, and especially by the Lion’s Rump, which is itself easily accessible. I was not at all surprised that the garrison should have yielded to every attack of forces so little superior to its own. The most effectual plan until this defect be remedied, would be to land at a distance from the garrison, to the north, on an open part of the beach, entirely defenceless, and thence to march and attack the town by land. I recollected having heard it said that the clouds sometimes suddenly cover the Table and Devil’s Mountain, even when the rest of the sky appears perfectly serene. I had myself an opportunity of observing this curious phenomenon, during the short time I remained in the harbour. On these occasions, the mountains appear to be covered with snow, of the most dazzling whiteness, and this is vulgarly called spreading the table-cloth, which expression certainly conveys a very accurate idea of the spectacle presented. In winter, this peculiar appearance of the clouds is almost always the precursor of a storm. The harbour is entirely exposed to the north-west winds, which are frequent and violent in the bad season of the year. The shipping is then liable to great danger; the only shelter is under Robbin Island, at some distance from the entrance of the bay.

I mentioned to the persons on board an anecdote which I had often heard our naval officers relate. Suffren, on returning from the campaign of India, at the time of the peace, cast anchor at the Cape, some days before the English squadron, by which he was closely followed. The latter, on entering the harbour, had to tack, in order to gain the anchorage. On observing one of the ships as she entered, the French Admiral, at the very first glance, foretold that she would infallibly be lost, and he immediately ordered a signal to be given for all the boats belonging to his squadron to be in readiness to render assistance. In a few moments, the English ship ran aground; boats were sent off from all points: but the French had the glory of being the first to arrive. It was described as being a singular and affecting spectacle to see the two squadrons, which had lately been so desperately intent on mutual destruction, now vieingvieing with each other in the benevolent task of succouring the distressed. The young English officers, to whom I related this circumstance, informed me that they had never before heard of it; so true it is that facts, which powerfully occupy the attention of contemporaries, are lost to the succeeding generation, when they are not of a nature to acquire historical importance.