comte de Emmanuel-Auguste-DieudonnE Las Cases

It is my intention to record daily all that the Emperor Napoleon did or said while I was about his person; but, before I begin my diary, I hope to be excused for offering a few preliminary remarks, which may not be altogether useless.

I never commenced the perusal of any historical work without first wishing to know the character of the author, his situation in society, and his political and domestic relations; in fact, all the important circumstances of his life; conceiving that nothing but a knowledge of these matters could furnish a key to his writings, or a safe ground of confidence in his statements. I therefore proceed to supply in my turn that which I always sought for in others; and, in presenting this diary, to relate a few facts respecting my past life.

I was scarcely twenty-one years of age when the Revolution broke out, and had just been made a Lieutenant de Vaisseau, which corresponded with the rank of a field officer in the line: my family was at court, and I had been recently presented there myself. I was not rich; but my name and rank in life, together with my professional prospects, were likely, according to the notions and views of the times, to enable me to marry according to my wishes. It was at such a moment that our political troubles burst forth.

One of the principal vices in our system of admission to the service was that of depriving us of the benefits of a solid and finished education. Withdrawn from school at the early age of fourteen, abandoned from that instant to ourselves, and launched as it were on a wide waste, how was it possible to attain the slightest notion of social organization, public rights, or the duties of civil life?

Thus, prompted by noble prejudice, rather than by a just sense of duty, above all, led on by a natural fondness for generous resolves, I was amongst the first to hasten abroad and join our Princes; to save, as it was said, the monarch from revolutionary fury, and to defend our hereditary rights, which we could not, it was asserted, yet abandon without shame. From the mode in which we had been educated, it required either a very strong head or a very weak mind to resist the torrent.

The emigration soon became general; this fatal measure is but too well known to Europe; nor can its folly, as a political blunder and a social crime, find any excuse in the present day, except in the unenlightened but upright character of most of those by whom it was undertaken.

Defeated on our own frontiers, discharged and disbanded by foreigners, rejected and proscribed by the laws of our country, numbers of us reached England, whose Ministers lost no time in landing us on the shore of Quiberon. Being so fortunate as not to disembark, I had, after my return, time to reflect on the horrible alternative of fighting against our country under foreign banners; and, from this moment, my ideas, principles, and projects were either disconcerted or entirely changed.

Despairing of events, abandoning the world and my natural sphere, I devoted myself to study; and, under a borrowed name, went through a second course of education in attempting to assist that of others.

After a lapse of some years, the treaty of Amiens, and the amnesty offered by the First Consul, re-opened to us the gates of France. I had no longer any property there: the laws had disposed of my patrimony; but can any thing make us forget our native soil, or destroy the charm of breathing the air of our own country!

I hurried back, and was grateful for a pardon, rendered more acceptable since I could say with pride that I received it without having any motives of self-reproach. When monarchy was proclaimed soon after, my situation and sentiments were of a most singular kind. I found myself a soldier punished for a cause that had triumphed. Every day brought us back to our former ideas: all that had been dear to our principles and prejudices was renewed; and yet delicacy and honour rendered it a kind of duty in us to keep at a distance.

It was in vain that the new government loudly proclaimed the union of all parties; and equally so that its chief had declared he would no longer recognise any but Frenchmen in France; in vain had old friends and former companions offered me the advantages of a new career to be chosen by myself. Unable to subdue the conflicting feelings which agitated my mind, I obstinately persevered in a system of self-denial; and, devoting all my time to literature, I composed under a feigned name, an historical work that re-established my fortune; after which I passed five or six of the happiest years of my life.

Meanwhile, unprecedented events succeeded each other with extraordinary rapidity: they were of such a nature, and bore so peculiar a character, that it became impossible for any person whose heart possessed the least predilection for whatever was great or noble to view them with indifference. The glory of our country was raised to a pitch unknown in the history of any other people: the administration of affairs was unexampled, not less by its energy than the consequences it produced; a simultaneous impulse, which was suddenly given to every species of industry, excited the emulation of all at the same moment; the army was unrivalled, striking terror abroad and creating a just pride at home.

Every day added to the number of our trophies, while numerous monuments proclaimed our exploits; the victories of Austerlitz, Jena, and Friedland; the treaties of Presburg and Tilsit had constituted France the first of nations, and made her the arbitress of Europe. It was a signal honour to be a Frenchman; and yet all these exploits, labours and prodigies, were the work of one man. For my own part, whatever might have been my former prepossessions and prejudices, I was now filled with admiration; and, as we all know, there is but one step from admiration to affection. It was precisely at this period that the Emperor called some of the first families of France round his throne, and caused it to be circulated, amongst the rest, that he would consider those who remained aloof as bad Frenchmen. I did not hesitate for an instant: I have, said I to myself, fulfilled the obligations of my natural oath, that of my birth and education, to which I have continued faithful until its extinction. Our princes too were no longer thought of: we even doubted their existence. The solemnities of religion, the alliance of kings, the example of Europe, and the splendour of France, henceforth taught me that I had a new sovereign. Had those who preceded us made so long a resistance to such powerful efforts, before rallying round the first of the Capets? I answered therefore, for myself, that, happy in being thus enabled to obey a call which removed me with honour from the delicate situation in which I was placed, I freely, spontaneously, and without reserve, transferred the zeal, loyalty, and attachment which I had constantly cherished for my old masters, to the new sovereign: the result of this step was my immediate admission at court.

In this state of things, I felt extremely anxious that my recent protestations should be ratified by deeds. The English had invaded Flushing, and threatened Antwerp; I therefore hastened to assist in the defence of the latter place, as a volunteer; and, on the subsequent evacuation of Flushing, my nomination to the office of chamberlain called me near the person of the Emperor. Being desirous of adding some more useful occupation to the duties of this honourable post, I solicited and obtained a seat in the Council of State. Hence followed several confidential missions: I was sent to Holland at the period of its union to the French Empire, in order to receive whatever related to the naval department; then to Illyria, for the purpose of liquidating the public debt; and afterwards over half the Empire, to superintend establishments of public beneficence. During our late misfortunes, I received some consoling proofs that the inhabitants of the countries to which I had thus been sent were not dissatisfied with my conduct.

Providence had however fixed a limit to our prosperity. The catastrophe of Moscow, the disasters of Leipsic, and the siege of Paris, are well known. I commanded in that city one of the legions which acquired honour by its severe losses on the 31st of March. When the capitulation took place I gave up the command, feeling that other duties were to be performed near the person of my sovereign, but could not reach Fontainebleau in time:—the Emperor had abdicated, and was succeeded by the King.

My situation now became more singular than it had been twelve years before. The cause for which I had sacrificed my fortune, for which I remained so long in exile, and six years in a state of self-denial at home, was at length triumphant; nevertheless, the point of honour and other considerations were about to prevent my reaping any benefit from the event! What could be more capricious than my fate? Two revolutions had been effected in opposition to each other:—by the first I lost my patrimony; by the second I might have been deprived of life: neither the one nor the other had been favourable to my fortune. Vulgar minds will only perceive an unfortunate tergiversation of opinions in this wayward destiny, while the lovers of intrigue will assert that I was twice a dupe: only the few will understand that I have twice honourably fulfilled my duty. Be this as it may, those early friends, whose esteem was not lessened by the line of conduct I had pursued, having now become all powerful, invited me to join them: it was impossible to obey the generous call; disgusted and disheartened, I resolved that my public life should terminate. Ought I to have exposed myself to the false judgment of those who were watching my proceedings? Could every body see what was passing in my mind?

Having now become a Frenchman even to enthusiasm, and unable to endure that national degradation of which I was a daily witness amidst foreign bayonets, I determined to endeavour to divert my thoughts at a distance from the scene of calamity, and went to pass a few months in England. How altered did every thing appear there! On reflection, I found that it was myself who had undergone a great change.

I had scarcely returned, when Napoleon appeared on our coasts: he was transported to the capital as it were by magic, and this without battles, excesses, or effusion of blood. I thought I saw the stain brought on us by foreign hands effaced, and all our glory restored. Destiny had ordered otherwise!

No sooner did I hear of the Emperor’s arrival, than I spontaneously repaired to attend on his person. I was present at the moment of abdication; and, when the question of his removal was agitated, I requested permission to participate in his fate. Such had been till then the disinterestedness and simplicity, some will say folly, of my conduct, that, notwithstanding my daily intercourse as an officer of the household and member of his council, Napoleon scarcely knew me. “Do you know whither your offer may lead you?” said he, in his astonishment. “I have made no calculation about it,” I replied.it,” I replied. He accepted me, and I am at St. Helena.

I have now made myself known; the reader has my credentials in his hands: a host of contemporaries are living—it will be seen whether a single individual amongst them stands up to invalidate them: I therefore begin my task.

RETURN OF THE EMPEROR TO THE ELYSÉE, AFTER
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

Tuesday, June 20th, 1815.—Heard of the Emperor’s return to the ElysÉe Palace: placed myself in immediate attendance there. Found Messrs. Montalambert and Montholon there, brought by the same sentiment.

Napoleon had just lost a great battle; so that the safety of the nation thenceforth depended on the wisdom and zeal of the Chamber of Representatives. The Emperor, still covered with dust from the field of Waterloo, was on the point of hurrying into the midst of them, there to declare our dangers and resources, and to engage that his personal interests should never be a barrier to the happiness of France; after which he intended to quit Paris immediately. It is said that several persons dissuaded him from this step, by leading him to apprehend an approaching ferment amongst the deputies.

It is as yet impossible to comprehend every report that circulates with regard to this fatal battle: some say there is manifest treason; others, a fatality without example. Thirty thousand men under Grouchy lost their way and were too late, taking no part in the engagement; the army, victorious till the evening, was, it is said, suddenly seized with a panic towards eight o’clock, and became broken in an instant. It is another Crecy, another Azincourt,———!^[1] every one trembles and thinks all is lost!

THE ABDICATION.

21st.—The best intentioned and most influential members of the national representation have been tampered with all last evening and all night, by certain persons, who, if their word is to be taken, produce authentic documents and demi-official papers guaranteeing the safety of France, on condition of the mere abdication of the Emperor, as they pretend.

The above opinion had become so strong this morning that it seemed irresistible: the president of the assembly, the first men in the state, and the Emperor’s particular friends, come to supplicate him to save France by abdicating. Though by no means convinced, yet the Emperor answers with magnanimity:—he abdicates!

This circumstance causes the greatest bustle round the ElysÉe; the multitude rushes towards the gate, and testifies the deepest interest; numbers penetrate within the hall, while some even of the popular class scale the walls; some in tears, others in a state approaching to distraction, crowd up to the Emperor, who is walking tranquilly in the garden, and make offers of every description. Napoleon alone is calm, constantly replying that they ought in future to employ this zeal and tenderness for the good of their country.

I presented the deputation of Representatives, in the course of the day: it came to thank the Emperor for his devotedness to the national interests.

The documents and state-papers, which have produced such a powerful sensation, and brought about the grand event of this day, are said to be official communications of Messrs. FouchÉ and Metternich, in which the latter guarantees Napoleon II. and the regency, in case of the abdication of the Emperor. These communications must have been long carried on unknown to Napoleon. M. FouchÉ must have a furious partiality for clandestine operations. It is well known that his first disgrace, which took place several years ago, arose from his having opened some negotiations with England of his own accord, without the Emperor’s knowledge: he has in fact always shewn the greatest obliquity in affairs of moment. God grant that his present mysterious acts do not prove fatal to our country!

DEPUTATION OF THE CHAMBER OF PEERS.—CAULAINCOURT.—FOUCHÉ.

22nd.—Went home to pass a few hours at my own house: in the course of this day the deputation of the Peers was presented: a portion of the Provisional Government was named in the evening. Caulaincourt and FouchÉ, who were of the number, happened to be with us in the ante-chamber: we complimented the first on his nomination, which was, indeed, only congratulating ourselves on the public good: his reply was full of alarm. “We applaud the choice hitherto known,” said we. “It is certain,” observed FouchÉ, with an air of levity, “that I am not suspected.”—“If you had been,“ rudely rejoined the deputy Boulay de la Meurthe, who was also present, “be assured we should not have named you.”

THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT PRESENTED TO
THE EMPEROR.

23rd—The acclamations and interest without continued at the ElysÉe. I presented the members of the Provisional Government to the Emperor, who, in dismissing them, directed the Duke DecrÉs to see them out. The Emperor’s brothers, Joseph, Lucien, and Jerome, were introduced frequently through the day, and conversed with him for some time.

As usual, there was a great multitude of people collected round the palace in the evening: their numbers were constantly increasing. Their acclamations and the interest shewn for the Emperor created considerable uneasiness amongst the different factions. The fermentation of the capital now became so great that Napoleon determined to depart on the following day.

THE EMPEROR QUITS THE ELYSÉE.

25th.—I accompanied the Emperor to Malmaison, and again requested permission to follow his future fortunes. My proposal seemed to create astonishment, for I was still only known to him by my employments; but he accepted the offer.

26th.—My wife came to see me; she had divined my intentions: it became a somewhat delicate task to avow them, and still more difficult to convince her of their propriety. “My dear,” said I, “in following the dutiful dictates of my heart, it is consoling to reflect that your interests are not thereby prejudiced. If Napoleon II. is to govern us, I leave you strong claims on his protection; should Heaven order it differently, I shall have secured you a glorious asylum, a name honoured with some esteem. At all events we shall meet again, at least in a better world.” After tears and even reproaches, which could not but be gratifying, she consented to my departure, exacting a promise however, that I would allow her to join me without loss of time. From this moment she manifested a courage and strength of mind that would have animated myself in case of necessity.

THE MINISTER OF MARINE COMES TO MALMAISON.

27th.—I went to Paris for a short time with the minister of Marine, who came to Malmaison, on business respecting the frigates destined for the Emperor. He read me the instructions drawn out for the commanders, said his Majesty depended on my zeal, and intended taking me with him; adding, that he would take care of my family during my absence.

Napoleon II. is proclaimed by the Legislature.

Sent for my son from his school, having determined that he should accompany me. We prepared a small parcel of clothes and linen, then proceeded to Malmaison, accompanied by my wife, who returned immediately. The road had now become rather unsafe, owing to the approach of the enemy.

28th.—Being desirous of making some other arrangements before our departure, the Duchess de Rovigo took me and my son to Paris in her carriage. I found Messrs. de Vertillac and de Quitry at my house; these were the last friends I embraced: they were terrified. The agitation and uncertainty hourly increased in the capital, for the enemy was at the gates. On reaching Malmaison, we saw the bridge of Chatou in flames: guards were posted round the palace, and it became prudent to remain within the park walls. I went into the Emperor’s room, and described how Paris had appeared to me; stating the general opinion that FouchÉ openly betrayed the National cause; and that the hopes of all patriots were that his Majesty would this very night join the army who loudly called for him. The Emperor listened to me with an air of deep thought, but made no reply, and I withdrew soon after.

NAPOLEON QUITS MALMAISON, AND DEPARTS FOR
ROCHEFORT.

29th-30th.—A cry of Long live the Emperor! was continually heard on the great road to Saint Germain; it proceeded from the troops who passed under the walls of Malmaison.

Towards noon. General Becker came from Paris, sent by the Provisional government; he told us, with feelings of indignation, that he had received a commission to guard and watch Napoleon.^[3]

A sentiment the most base had dictated this choice: FouchÉ knew that General Becker had a private pique against the Emperor, and therefore did not doubt of finding in the former a man disposed to vengeance; but he was grossly deceived in his expectations, for Becker constantly shewed a degree of respect and attachment to the Emperor highly honourable to his own character.

Meanwhile time pressed. When on the point of setting out, the Emperor sent a message to the Provisional Government, by General Becker, offering to place himself at the head of the army, merely as a private citizen, adding, that, after having repulsed Blucher, he would continue his route. On the refusal of this offer, we left Malmaison; the Emperor and a part of his suite taking the road to Rochefort by Tours; I and my son, with Messieurs Montholon, Planat, and RÉsigny, proceeded towards Orleans, as did also two or three other carriages. We reached this place early on the 30th, and got to Chatellerault at midnight.

July 1st–2nd. We passed through Limoges on the 1st, at four in the afternoon; dined at Rochefoucault on the 2nd, and reached Jarnac about seven. We slept here, owing to the obstinacy of the postmaster, which forced us to remain till next day.

3rd.—We could not set out before five o’clock. On account of the misconduct of the postmaster, who, not content with detaining us all night, had recourse to secret means for keeping us still longer, we were obliged to proceed at a slow pace to Cognac, where the postmaster and inhabitants received us very differently. It was easy to perceive that our journey occasioned a great deal of agitation amongst all parties. On reaching Saintes, towards eleven o’clock, we nearly fell victims to the fury of some miscreants, collected by an officer of the royal guard, a native of that place. This person had prepared an ambuscade for us, and had even laid a plan for our assassination. We were arrested by the mob, but a part of the national guard interfered, and conducted us as prisoners to an adjoining inn. It was said that we were carrying off the treasures of the State, and therefore merited death. Some of them, who pretended to be the most distinguished inhabitants, and above all, the women, were the most outrageous, and called for our immediate execution.

We saw these females pass in succession before some windows that were open near our temporary prison, in order that their insults should not be lost upon us. It will scarcely be credited that they went so far as to gnash their teeth in sign of hatred, and from vexation at seeing the indifference we displayed; yet they formed the fashionable circle of Saintes! Could Real be in the right, when he told the Emperor, during the hundred days, that as for Jacobins, he had reason to know something of them; protesting that the only difference between the blacks and whites was that the former wore wooden shoes and the latter silk stockings?

Prince Joseph, who was passing through Saintes unknown to us, came to increase the interest of our adventure. He was also arrested, and conducted to the prefecture; but highly respected.

The windows of the inn faced a large square, which continued to be filled with an agitated and hostile rabble, who were extremely violent and abusive. I found an old acquaintance in the under-prefect, who was thus enabled to state who we were. The carriage in which we travelled was next examined; while we were ourselves retained in a species of solitary confinement. I obtained leave, however, to visit the Prince about four o’clock.

While on my way to the prefecture, and though guarded by a non-commissioned officer, several individuals addressed me: some put notes secretly into my hands; others whispered something friendly; while all united in assuring me we might feel perfectly tranquil, for the patriots and well-intentioned inhabitants would protect us.

Towards the evening we were allowed to depart; and by this time things had so totally changed that we left the inn amidst the most lively acclamations: females of the lower classes, in tears, kissed our hands: many persons offered to accompany us, that we might avoid the enemies of the Emperor, who, they said, lay in wait to murder us, at a short distance from the town. This singular transition arose in some degree from the arrival of numbers of country people and federates, who gave an immediate turn to public opinion.

4th.—On approaching Rochefort we met a party of gendarmerie, who, on the report of our reception at Saintes, had been dispatched to meet us. We arrived at this place about two o’clock in the morning: the Emperor had reached it on the preceding evening.^[4] Prince Joseph arrived in the afternoon; when I conducted him to the Emperor.

I profited by the first moment of leisure to inform the President of the Council of State why I absented myself. “Rapid and important events,” said I “obliged me to quit Paris without the necessary leave of absence. The peculiarity and importance of the case led to this irregularity: being in attendance on the Emperor at the moment of his departure, it was impossible to see the great man, who had governed us with so much splendour, and who had banished himself to facilitate the tranquillity of France, of whose power nothing now remains but its glory and name;—I repeat, that I could not allow him to depart without yielding to the desire of following his steps. During the days of his prosperity he condescended to bestow some favours on me; I now owe him all that I can offer, whether of sentiment or of action.”

5th-7th. At Rochefort, the Emperor laid aside his military dress. He lived at the prefecture; numbers were constantly grouped round the house; and acclamations continued to be frequently repeated. The Emperor appeared two or three times at the balcony. Numerous proposals were made to him, both by generals who came in person, and others who sent emissaries.

During our stay here the Emperor has led the same sort of life as if at the Tuileries: we do not approach his person more frequently: he scarcely receives any persons but Bertrand and Savary; so that we are reduced to reports and conjectures as to all that concerns him. It is, however, evident that, in the midst of this state of agitation, he continues calm and resolute, even to indifference, without manifesting the least anxiety.

A lieutenant of our navy, who commands a Danish merchant-ship, has generously offered to save the Emperor. He proposes to take him on board alone; engages to conceal his person in such a way that it will escape the severest scrutiny; and, moreover, will immediately set sail for the United States. He demands but a small sum by way of indemnifying his owners for any loss they may sustain through his enterprize. Bertrand agrees, under certain conditions, which he has drawn out in my name. I have signed this fictitious bargain in presence and under the eyes of the maritime prefect.

EMBARKATION OF THE EMPEROR.

8th.—The Emperor proceeded to Fourras in the evening, followed by the acclamations of the people wherever he passed. He slept on board the Saal,^[5] which he reached about eight o’clock. I did not arrive till a much later hour, having had to accompany Madame Bertrand in another boat, and from a different point.

9th.—I attended the Emperor, who disembarked at an early hour in the Isle of Aix: he visited all the fortifications, and returned on board to breakfast.

10th.—I was dispatched towards the British cruisers, with the Duke de Rovigo, early in the morning, to know whether they had received the passes, which had been promised to us by the Provisional Government, to proceed to the United States. The answer was, that they had not; but that the matter should be instantly referred to the Commander-in-chief. Having stated the supposition of the Emperor’s setting sail with the frigates under flags of truce; it was replied, that they would be attacked. We then spoke of his passage in a neutral ship; and were told, in reply, that all neutrals would be strictly examined, and, perhaps, even carried into an English port; but we were recommended to proceed to England; and it was asserted that in that country we should have no ill usage to fear. We returned at two in the afternoon.

The Bellerophon, having followed, soon after anchored in Basque Roads, in order to be nearer to us; so that the ships of both nations were now in view of, and very near, each other.

On reaching the Bellerophon, the captain addressed us in French: I was not eager to inform him that I knew something of his own language. Some expressions which passed between him and his officers might have injured the negotiation, had I seemed to understand them. When, a short time after, it was asked, whether we understood English, I allowed the Duke of Rovigo to reply in the negative. Our situation was quite sufficient to remove any scruples I might have otherwise entertained, and rendered this little deception very pardonable. I only mention this circumstance, because, as I remained a fortnight amongst these people, I was compelled to impose a tiresome restraint upon myself, to avoid disclosing what I had concealed in the first instance. In fact, though I could read the language with facility, yet, owing to an absence of thirteen years and consequent want of practice, it was with considerable difficulty I understood English when spoken.

11th.—All the outlets being blockaded by English ships of war, the Emperor seemed extremely uncertain as to what plan he should pursue. Neutral vessels, and chasse-marÉes,^[6] manned by young naval officers, were suggested for his conveyance; propositions also continued to be made from the interior.

12th.—The Emperor disembarked at the Isle of Aix, amidst cries of exultation on every side. He quitted the frigates in consequence of the Commandant’s having refused to sail; whether from weakness of character, or owing to his having received fresh orders from the Provisional Government, is not known. Many were of opinion that the attempt might be made with some probability of success; but it must be allowed that the winds still continued unfavourable.

13th.—Prince Joseph visited his brother in the course of the day. Towards eleven at night the Emperor was on the point of embarking in one of the chasse marÉes; two sailed, having on board a great part of his luggage and several of his attendants. M. de Planat was in one of them.

14th.—I returned to the Bellerophon at four in the morning, accompanied by General Lallemand, to ascertain whether any answer had been received. The Captain told us he expected it every moment; adding, that if the Emperor would embark immediately for England, he had instructions to convey him thither. He farther declared it as his private opinion, and several captains who were present expressed themselves to the same effect, that there was not the least doubt of Napoleon’s meeting with all possible respect and good treatment: that there, neither the king nor his ministers exercised the same arbitrary authority as those of the Continent: that the English people possessed a generosity of sentiment, and liberality of opinion, superior to sovereignty itself. I replied that I would return and communicate the Captain’s offer to the Emperor, as well as the whole of his conversation. I added that I thought I had a sufficient knowledge of the Emperor Napoleon’s character to induce a belief that he would not feel much hesitation in proceeding to England thus confidentially, so as to be able to continue his voyage to the United States. I described all France, south of the Loire, as being in a blaze, and the hopes of the people as constantly turning towards Napoleon, as long as he was present; stated the propositions hourly made to him from various directions; his determination not to become either the cause or pretext of a civil war; the generosity shewn by him in abdicating, merely to render the conclusion of a peace more easy; and the firm resolution he had taken to banish himself, in order to make it more prompt and complete.

General Lallemand, who, from having been condemned to death, was interested on his own account in the determination that might be made, asked Captain Maitland, whom he formerly knew in Egypt, and whose prisoner I think he had been, if persons implicated in the civil dissensions of his country, like himself, and going thus voluntarily to England, had any reason to fear being ever delivered up to France? The Captain replied that they had not: repelling the doubt as an insult. Previously to our separating, the conference was summed up, by my repeating that it was possible, from the state of affairs, and his own intentions, that the Emperor would avail himself of Captain Maitland’s offer, so as to get safe-conducts for America. The latter begged it to be understood that he would not guarantee the permission we demanded being granted; upon which we departed. To say the truth, I did not myself think it would be given; but the Emperor, wishing to lead a life of tranquillity in future, had resolved to be a stranger to political concerns; we therefore considered the probability of not being allowed to leave England, without much uneasiness; but our fears and conjectures went no farther. It is very likely that Captain Maitland was of the same opinion: at all events, I will do him, as well as the other officers, the justice to believe they were honest and sincere in the account they gave us of the sentiments of the people of England.

We reached the island at eleven o’clock; meanwhile the storm approached, and time became precious: it was necessary to decide one way or another. The Emperor having assembled us in a sort of council, all the chances of escape were discussed: that of the Danish vessel seemed impracticable, and the chasse-marÉes were no longer thought of; the English cruisers were not to be forced; so that there seemed only two alternatives—either to renew the war, or to accept the offers of Captain Maitland: the latter was chosen. On reaching the Bellerophon, we said, we shall be at once on British ground; the English will then find themselves bound by the ties of hospitality, which are held sacred amongst the most barbarous nations; we shall also be under the civil rights and privileges of the country. The people of England will not be so insensible to their glory as not to seize so fortunate a circumstance with avidity: upon this, Napoleon wrote the following letter to the Prince Regent.

“Royal Highness—Exposed to the factions which divide my country, and to the hostility of the greatest powers of Europe, I have closed my political career. I come, like Themistocles, to seek the hospitality of the British nation. I place myself under the protection of their laws, which I claim from your Royal Highness, as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous, of my enemies.

(Signed)“Napoleon.”

I set out about four o’clock, with my son and General Gourgaud, to go on board the Bellerophon, whence I was not again to return. My mission was to announce that his Majesty would come on the following morning; and, moreover, to deliver the letter above quoted to Captain Maitland. General Gourgaud was commissioned to carry the Emperor’s letter to the Prince Regent immediately, and to present it in person. Captain Maitland read Napoleon’s letter, which he greatly admired. Two other captains were permitted to take copies of it, to be kept secret till the letter should be made public; after which no time was lost in despatching Gourgaud in the Slaney, a sloop of war, forming part of the squadron.

Soon after the Slaney had parted company with the Bellerophon, and while I was seated in the captain’s cabin of the latter with my son, Captain Maitland, who had gone to issue some orders, suddenly entered, and with a countenance expressive of deep concern, exclaimed, “Count Las Cases, I am deceived when I treat with you. The consequence of detaching one of my ships is, as I have just heard, that Napoleon has escaped. Should this be the case, it will place me in a dreadful situation with my Government.” These words startled me; I would have given the world had they been true. The Emperor had made no engagement; I was perfectly sincere; and would, therefore, most willingly have become the victim of an event of which I was quite innocent. I asked Captain Maitland, with the utmost coolness, at what hour the Emperor was said to have set out. He had been so astonished that he had not given himself time to inquire; but went out again to ascertain this point; and on returning, said, “At twelve o’clock.” If that be the case, I replied, the Slaney’s departure can do no harm, as you have only just sent her away; but do not be uneasy, for I left the Emperor in the Isle of Aix at four o’clock. “Do you assure me of that?” said he. On my repeating the assertion, he turned to some officers who were with him, and observed, in English, that the intelligence must be false, as I was too calm, and seemed to be sincere; and that I had, besides, pledged my word on the subject.

The English cruisers had numerous sources of information on our coast: I was subsequently enabled to ascertain that they were minutely informed of all our proceedings.^[7]

Nothing was now thought of but preparing for the next day. Captain Maitland having asked whether I wished his boats to be sent for the Emperor, I replied, that the separation was too painful for the French seamen, not to let them have the satisfaction of attending him to the last moment.

EMBARKATION OF NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE
BELLEROPHON.

15th.—At daylight, one of our brigs, the Epervier, was seen under weigh, and coming towards the Bellerophon, having a flag of truce flying. Both wind and tide being contrary, Captain Maitland sent his barge to meet her. Seeing the boat return, the Captain was extremely anxious to discover, with his spy-glass, whether the Emperor was on board; he frequently begged that I would look myself, but I could not as yet reply with certainty: at length the matter was placed beyond farther doubt, as the Emperor came alongside surrounded by all his attendants. I stood at the gangway to present Captain Maitland, to whom he said, “I come on board your ship, to place myself under the protection of the laws of England.”—The Captain then led him into his cabin, of which the Emperor was immediately put in possession. All the officers of the Bellerophon were presented to him soon after; this ceremony over, he came out of the cabin, and visited every part of the ship during the morning. I related the alarm felt by Captain Maitland the preceding evening, relative to his escape; the Emperor did not see the matter in the light in which it had appeared to me—“What had he to fear?” he asked, in an emphatic and dignified manner—“were not you in his power?“

NAPOLEON ON BOARD THE BELLEROPHON.
London: Published for Henry Colburn, March, 1836.

Towards three o’clock, the Superb, a seventy-four gun ship, bearing the flag of Rear-Admiral Hotham, the Commander on the station, anchored close to the Bellerophon. The Admiral came to visit the Emperor, and remained to dinner. From the questions asked by Napoleon relative to his ship, he expressed a wish to know whether his Majesty would condescend to go on board the following day; upon which the Emperor said he had no objection, and would therefore breakfast with the Admiral accompanied by all his attendants.

16th.—Attended the Emperor on board the Superb: all the honours, except those of firing cannon, were liberally paid; we went round the ship, and examined the most trifling objects; every thing seemed to be in admirable order. Admiral Hotham evinced, throughout, all the refinement and grace of a man of rank and education. On our return to the Bellerophon, she got under weigh, and made sail for England: this event took place twelve days after our departure from Paris. It was almost a calm.

On our leaving the Bellerophon in the morning to visit the Superb, the Emperor stopped short in front of the guard drawn up on the quarter-deck to salute him. He made them perform several movements, giving the word of command himself; having desired them to charge bayonets, and perceiving that this motion was not performed altogether in the French manner, he advanced into the midst of the soldiers, put the weapons aside with his hands, and seized a musquet from one of the rear rank, with which he went through the exercise himself, according to our method. A sudden movement and change of countenance amongst the officers and others who were present, sufficiently expressed their astonishment at seeing the Emperor thus carelessly place himself amidst English bayonets, some of which came in contact with his person. This circumstance produced a most striking effect. On returning from the Superb, we were indirectly questioned on the subject, and asked whether the Emperor ever acted in the same way with his own soldiers; while the greatest surprise was expressed at his confidence. Not one amongst the officers had formed any idea of sovereigns who could thus explain and execute their own commands; it was therefore easy to perceive that they had no just conception of the personage now before them, notwithstanding his having been so marked an object of attention and curiosity for above twenty years.

17th-18th. Though nearly a calm, we lost sight of land.

19th.—The wind being very strong, though not favourable, we proceeded at the rate of nine miles an hour.

20th-22d. We continued our course, with winds that were by no means favourable.

The Emperor had not been long amongst his most inveterate enemies, those who had been continually fed with rumours no less absurd than irritating, before he acquired all the influence over them which belongs to glory. The captain, officers, and crew, soon adopted the etiquette of his suite, shewing him exactly the same attention and respect; the Captain addressed him either as Sire or your Majesty; when he appeared on deck, every one took off his hat, and remained uncovered while he was present—this was not the case at first. There was no entering his cabin, except by passing the attendants: no persons but those who were invited appeared at his table. Napoleon was, in fact, an Emperor, on board the Bellerophon. He often appeared on deck, conversing either with some of his suite or the officers of the ship.

Of all those who had accompanied the Emperor, I was perhaps the person of whom he knew the least; it has already been seen that, notwithstanding my employments near his person, I had enjoyed but little immediate intercourse with Napoleon; since our leaving Paris he had scarcely spoken to me, but I was now addressed very frequently.

The occasion and circumstances were highly favourable to me: I was sufficiently acquainted with the English language to be able to give various explanations as to what was passing around us. I had been in the navy, and could afford the Emperor any information he required relative to the manoeuvres of the ship, and state of the weather. I had been ten years in England, and had formed definite notions of the laws, manners, and customs of the people; which enabled me to reply to the Emperor’s questions with facility. My Historical Atlas, too, had stored my mind with a number of facts, dates, and coincidences, upon which he always found me prepared to answer.

A part of my time was occupied in drawing up the following summary of our situation at Rochefort, and the ideas which had influenced the determination of the Emperor. Hence I had precise and authentic data to judge from.

SUMMARY DICTATED BY NAPOLEON HIMSELF.

The English squadron was not strong: there were two sloops of war off Bordeaux, they blockaded a French corvette, and gave chace to American vessels which sailed daily in great numbers. At the Isle of Aix we had two frigates well armed; the Vulcan corvette, one of the largest vessels of its class, and a large brig, lay in the roads: the whole of this force was blockaded by an English seventy-four of the smallest class, and an indifferent sloop or two. There is not the least doubt that by risking the sacrifice of one or two of our ships, we should have passed, but the senior captain was deficient in resolution, and refused to sail; the second in command was quite determined, and would have made the attempt: the former had probably received secret instructions from FouchÉ, who already openly betrayed the Emperor, and wanted to give him up. However that may be, there was nothing to be done by sea. The Emperor then landed at the Isle of Aix.

“Had the mission been confided to Admiral Verhuel,” said Napoleon, “as was promised on our departure from Paris, it is probable that he would have sailed.” The officers and crews of both frigates were full of attachment and enthusiasm. The garrison of Aix was composed of fifteen hundred seamen, forming a very fine regiment; the officers were so indignant at the frigate not sailing, that they proposed to fit out two chasse-marÉes of fifteen tons’ each: the midshipmen wished to navigate them; but, when on the point of putting this plan into execution, it was said there would be great difficulty in gaining the American coast without touching at some point of Spain or Portugal.

Under these circumstances the Emperor composed a species of council, from amongst the persons of his suite: here it was represented that we could no longer calculate on the frigates or other armed vessels; that the chasse-marÉes held out no probable chance of success, and could only lead to capture by the English cruisers in the open sea, or to falling into the hands of the allies: only two alternatives remained; to proceed towards the interior, once more to try the fate of arms; or to seek an asylum in England. To follow up the first, there were fifteen hundred seamen, full of zeal and willing to act: the commandant of the Island was an old officer of the army of Egypt, entirely devoted to Napoleon: the Emperor would have proceeded at the head of these to Rochefort, where the corps would have been increased by the garrison, which was also extremely well disposed: the garrison of La Rochelle, composed of four battalions of federated troops, had offered their services: with these we might then have joined General Clausel, so firmly fixed at the head of the army at Bordeaux, or General Lamarque, who had performed prodigies, with that of La VendÉe; both these officers expected and wished to see Napoleon: it would have been very easy to maintain a civil war in the interior. But Paris was taken, and the Chambers had been dissolved; there were, besides, from five to six hundred thousand of the enemy’s troops in France: a civil war could therefore have no other result than leading to the destruction of all these generous men who were attached to Napoleon. This loss would have been severe and irreparable: it would have destroyed the future resources of the nation, without producing any other advantage than placing the Emperor in a position to treat and obtain stipulations favourable to his interests. But Napoleon had renounced sovereignty; he only wanted a tranquil asylum; he abhorred the thought of seeing all his friends perish to attain so trifling a result; he was equally averse to become the pretext for the provinces being ravaged; and above all, he did not wish to deprive the national party of its truest supports, which would sooner or later reestablish the honour and independence of France. Napoleon’s only wish was to live as a private individual in future: America was the most proper place, and that of his choice. But even England, with its positive laws, might also answer; and it appeared, from the nature of my first interview with Captain Maitland, that the latter was empowered to convey the Emperor and suite to England to be equitably treated. From this moment we were under the protection of British laws; and the people of England were too fond of glory to lose an opportunity which thus presented itself, and that ought to have formed the proudest page of their history. It was therefore resolved to surrender to the English cruisers, as soon as Captain Maitland should positively declare his orders to receive us. On renewing the negotiation, he clearly stated that he had the authority of his Government to receive the Emperor, if he would come on board the Bellerophon, and to convey him, as well as his suite, to England. Napoleon went on board, not that he was constrained to it by events, since he could have remained in France; but because he wished to live as a private individual, would no longer meddle with public affairs, and had determined not to embroil those of France. He would, most assuredly, not have adopted this plan had he suspected the unworthy treatment which was preparing for him, as every body will readily feel convinced. His letter to the Prince Regent fully explains his confidence and persuasion on the subject. Captain Maitland, to whom it was officially communicated before the Emperor embarked on board his ship, having made no remarks on the above document, had, by this circumstance alone, recognized and sanctioned the sentiments it contained.

23rd.—Saw Ushant at four in the morning, having passed it in the night. From the moment of approaching the Channel, ships of the line and frigates were seen sailing in various directions. The coast of England was discovered towards evening.

24th.—We anchored at Torbay about eight in the morning; the Emperor had risen at six, and went on the poop, whence he surveyed the coast and anchorage. I remained by his side to give the explanations which he required.

Captain Maitland immediately despatched a messenger to Lord Keith, the Commander-in-chief at Plymouth. General Gourgaud rejoined us: he had been obliged to give up the letter for the Prince Regent; he had not only been refused permission to land, but prohibited from all communication. This was a bad omen, and the first indication of those numberless tribulations which followed.

No sooner had it transpired that the Emperor was on board the Bellerophon, than the bay was covered with vessels and boats full of people. The owner of a beautiful country-seat in sight of the ship sent his Majesty a present of various kinds of fruits.

25th.—The concourse of boats and crowds of spectators continued without intermission. The Emperor saw them from the cabin windows and occasionally shewed himself on deck. On returning from the shore, Captain Maitland handed me a letter from Lady C., enclosing another from my wife. My surprise was extreme, and not less than my satisfaction; but the former ceased when I reflected that the length of the passage had given the French papers time to transmit an account of what had occurred to a considerable distance, so that whatever related to the Emperor and his suite was already known in England, where we had even been expected for five or six days before. My wife hastened to address Lady C. on the subject, and the latter wrote to Captain Maitland, to whom she enclosed my letters, without knowing him.

My wife’s letter bespoke feelings of tender affliction; but that of Lady C., who, from being in London, had learned our future destiny, was full of reproaches—“I was not my own master, thus to dispose of myself; it was a crime to abandon my wife and children,” &c. Melancholy result of our modern systems of education, which tend so little to elevate our minds that we cannot conceive either the merit or charm of heroic resolutions and sacrifices! We think that all has been said, and every plea justified, when the danger of private interests and domestic enjoyments is put forward,—little imagining that the first duty towards a wife is to place her in a situation of honour, and that the richest inheritance we can leave our children is the example of some virtues, and a name to which a little true glory is attached.

26th.—Orders had arrived in the night for the ship to repair immediately to Plymouth: having sailed at an early hour, we reached our new destination at four o’clock in the afternoon, ten days after our departure from Rochefort, twenty-seven after quitting Paris, and thirty-five from the Emperor’s abdication. Our horizon became greatly overcast from this day. Armed boats were placed round the ship; those whom curiosity had attracted were driven away, even by firing musquetry at them. Lord Keith, who was in the bay, did not come on board. Two frigates made the signal for sailing immediately; we were told that a courier extraordinary had brought dispatches for a distant quarter. In the morning, some of our party were distributed amongst other vessels. Every visage seemed now to look at us with a sullen interest; the most sinister reports had reached the ship; several destinations were mentioned, each more frightful than the other.

Imprisonment in the Tower of London was the least terrific, and some spoke of St. Helena. Meanwhile the two frigates, which had greatly excited my attention, got under weigh, though the wind was contrary for leaving the roadstead, stood towards us, and anchored on each side, nearly touching the Bellerophon. Upon this, some person whispered to me that these ships were to receive us in the course of the night, and to sail for St. Helena.

Never can I portray the effect of these terrible words! A cold sweat overspread my whole frame: it was an unexpected sentence of death! Unpitying executioners had seized me: I was torn from all that attached me to life. I extended my arms sorrowfully towards those who were dear to me, but in vain; my fate was inevitable! This thought, together with a crowd of others which arose in equal disorder, excited a real tempest of the mind. It was like the struggle of a soul that sought to disengage itself from its earthly habitation! It turned my hair grey!——Fortunately the crisis was short, and, as it happened, the mind came forth triumphant; so much so, indeed, that from this moment I seemed above the world. I felt that I could thenceforth defy injustice, ill treatment, and sufferings. Above all, I vowed that neither complaints nor solicitations should escape me. But let not those of my companions, to whom I appeared tranquil in those fatal circumstances, accuse me of being deficient in feeling! Their agony was prolonged in detail—mine operated all at once.

One of those coincidences, not the least extraordinary of my life, recurred to my thoughts soon after. Twenty years before, and during my emigration to England, without possessing any worldly goods, I had refused to seek a certain fortune in India, because it was too remote, and I thought myself too old. Now, when twenty years older, I was about to quit my family, friends, fortune, and enjoyments, to become a voluntary exile two thousand miles off, in the midst of the ocean, for nothing. But no, I am mistaken! the sentiment that now impelled me was infinitely superior to the riches I then disdained: I accompanied him who had governed the world, and will occupy the attention of posterity.

The Emperor continued to appear on deck as usual. I sometimes saw him in his cabin, but without communicating what I had heard: I wished to console him, and not to be his tormentor. The reports had, however, reached him: but he had come so freely and confidently on board the Bellerophon; he had been so strongly invited by the English themselves; he so completely regarded his letter to the Prince Regent, transmitted before-hand to Captain Maitland, as so many tacit conditions; he had, in fact, acted with such magnanimity throughout the proceeding, that he repelled with indignation all the fears which were attempted to be excited in him, not even permitting those around him to entertain doubts.

27th—28th. It would be difficult to describe our torments and anxiety at this moment: most of us were dumb and inanimate. The least circumstance which transpired from the shore—an opinion, however unimportant, expressed on board—an unmeaning paragraph in a daily paper, became the subjects of our most serious arguments, and the cause of perpetual oscillations between our hopes and fears. The most trifling reports were sought with avidity; whoever appeared was urged to give a favourable version of deceitful anticipations: so little do the ardour and activity of our national character contribute to endow us with that stoical resignation, that imperturbable composure, which can only be acquired from settled principles and positive doctrines imbibed from early infancy.

The public papers, particularly those of the ministerial side, were let loose against us; it was the outcry of the Ministers preparing the blow they were about to strike. It would not be easy to form an idea of the horrors, falsehoods, and imprecations accumulated on our heads; and there is always a portion communicated to the multitude, however well disposed it may be, so that the demeanour of those around us became less easy, while their politeness became embarrassed and their countenances more reserved.

Lord Keith, after announcing himself for some time before, had only just made his appearance. It was evident that our company was shunned, our conversation avoided. The papers contained an account of the measures which were about to be taken; but, as nothing official had appeared, and there was some contradiction in the details, we were induced to flatter ourselves as to the final result: thus remaining in that state of suspense and uncertainty which is worse than a knowledge of the most painful truths. Nevertheless, our arrival in England had produced a singular sensation: the presence of the Emperor excited a curiosity bordering on delirium. It was the papers themselves that informed us of the circumstance, while they condemned it. All England seemed to hurry towards Plymouth. A person who had left London, on hearing of my arrival, was obliged to stop on the road for want of post-horses and accommodation. The Sound was covered with an immense number of boats; for some of which, as we heard, above fifty pounds had been paid.

The Emperor, to whom I read all the newspapers, did not betray any decrease of composure either by his conversation or general habits. It was known that he always appeared on deck towards five o’clock. A short time before this hour, all the boats collected alongside of each other; there were thousands; and so closely connected that the water could no longer be seen between them; they looked more like a multitude assembled in a public square than any thing else. When the Emperor came out, the noise and gestures of so many people presented a most striking spectacle: it was, at the same time, very easy to perceive that nothing hostile was meant, and that if curiosity had brought them, they felt interested on going away; we could even see that the latter sentiment continued to increase;—at first people merely looked towards the ship, they ended by saluting; some remained uncovered, and occasionally went so far as to cheer. Even our symbols began to appear amongst them. Several persons of both sexes came decorated with red carnations, but this was only turned to our detriment in the eyes of the Ministry and its partisans, so that it rendered our agony more poignant.

It was under these circumstances that the Emperor, who, notwithstanding his calm demeanor, could not help being struck by what he heard, dictated a paper to me, worthy of serving as a model to jurists, discussing and defending his real political situation; we found means of conveying it on shore, but I have kept no copy.

MINISTERIAL DECISION.

29th—30th. A report had circulated, during the two previous days, that an under-secretary of state coming from London to notify the resolutions of the Ministers with respect to the Emperor, officially. Accordingly he appeared; it was Sir Charles Bunbury: he came on board, accompanied by Lord Keith, and delivered a dispatch ordering the removal of the Emperor to St. Helena, and limiting the number of persons who were to accompany Napoleon to three, excluding, however, the Duke de Rovigo and General Lallemand, comprised in the list of proscribed.

I was not called before the Emperor. The bearers of his sentence spoke and understood French; they were admitted alone. I have since heard that he objected and protested, with no less energy than logic, against the violence exercised on his person. “He was the guest of England,” said he, “and not her prisoner; he came of his own accord to place himself under the protection of her laws; the most sacred rights of hospitality were violated in his person; he would never submit voluntarily to the outrage with which they threatened him; violence alone should oblige him to do so, &c.”

The Emperor gave me the ministerial document to translate for him, of which the following is a copy:

COMMUNICATION MADE BY LORD KEITH, IN THE NAME
OF THE ENGLISH MINISTERS.

“As it may, perhaps, be convenient for General Buonaparte to learn, without farther delay, the intentions of the British Government with regard to him, your Lordship will communicate the following information:

“It would be inconsistent with our duty towards our country and the allies of his Majesty, if General Buonaparte possessed the means of again disturbing the repose of Europe. It is on this account that it becomes absolutely necessary he should be restrained in his personal liberty, so far as this is required by the foregoing important object.

“The island of St. Helena has been chosen as his future residence; its climate is healthy, and its local position will allow of his being treated with more indulgence than could be admitted in any other spot, owing to the indispensable precautions which it would be necessarynecessary to employ for the security of his person.

“General Buonaparte is allowed to select amongst those persons who accompanied him to England (with the exception of Generals Savary and Lallemand) three officers, who, together with his surgeon, will have permission to accompany him to St. Helena; these individuals will not be allowed to quit the island without the sanction of the British Government.

“Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, who is named Commander-in-chief at the Cape of Good Hope and seas adjacent, will convey General Buonaparte and his suite to St. Helena; and he will receive detailed instructions relative to the execution of this service.

“Sir G. Cockburn will, most probably, be ready to sail in a few days; for which reason it is desirable that General Buonaparte should make choice of the persons who are to accompany him without delay.”

---

Although we expected our transportation to St. Helena, we were deeply affected by its announcement: it threw us all into a state of consternation. The Emperor did not, however, fail to appear on deck as usual, with the same countenance; and, as before, calmly surveyed the crowds which seemed so eager to see him.

31st.—Our situation had now become truly frightful; our sufferings beyond every power of description; our existence was about to cease with regard to Europe, our country, families, and friends, as well as our enjoyments and habits. It is true, we were not forced to follow the Emperor; but our choice was that of martyrs; the question was a renunciation of faith, or death. Another circumstance was added, which greatly increased our torments; this was the exclusion of Generals Savary and Lallemand, whom it struck with the utmost terror; they saw nothing but a scaffold before them, and felt persuaded that the Ministers of England, making no distinction between the political acts of a revolution, and crimes committed in a moment of tranquillity, would give them up to their enemies to be sacrificed. This would have been such an outrage on all law, such an opprobrium for England herself, that one might have been almost tempted to dare her to it: but it was only for those who were included in the same proscription to talk thus. At all events, we did not hesitate to desire that each of us might be amongst those whom the Emperor would choose; entertaining but one fear, that of finding ourselves excluded.

August 1st.—We still continued in the same state. I received a letter from London, in which it was strongly urged that I should be extremely wrong, nay that it would even be a crime to expatriate myself. The person who thus wrote also addressed Captain Maitland, begging he would assist by his efforts and counsel to dissuade me from such a resolution. But I stopped him short, by observing that, at my age, people generally acted on reflection.

I read the papers every day to the Emperor. Whether influenced by generosity, or that opinions began to be divided, there were two amongst the number that pleaded our cause with great warmth, compensating in some measure for the gross falsehoods and scurrilous abuse with which the others were filled. We gave ourselves up to the hope that the hatred inspired by an enemy would be succeeded by the interest which splendid actions ought naturally to excite; that England abounded in noble hearts and elevated minds, which would indubitably become our ardent advocates.

The number of boats increased daily. Napoleon continued to appear at his usual hour, and the reception became more and more flattering.

Numbers of every rank and condition had followed the Emperor; he was still, with regard to most of us, as if at the Tuileries; the Grand Marshal and Duke de Rovigo alone saw him habitually. Some had not approached or spoken to him more frequently than if we had been at Paris. I was called during the day, whenever there were any papers or letters to translate, until the Emperor insensibly contracted the habit of sending for me every evening towards eight o’clock, to converse with him a short time.

In the conversation of this evening, and after touching on various other subjects, he asked me whether I would accompany him to St. Helena. I replied with the greatest frankness, rendered more easy by my real sentiments, observing to his Majesty that, in quitting Paris, I had disregarded every chance; and that therefore St. Helena had nothing which could make it an exception. There were, however, a great many of us round his person, while only three were permitted to go out. As some people considered it a crime in me to leave my family, it was necessary with regard to the latter, and my own conscience, to know that I could be useful and agreeable to him—that, in fact, I required to be chosen; but that this last observation did not spring from any concealed motive, for my life was henceforth at his disposal without any restriction.

While thus engaged, Madame Bertrand, without having been called, and even without announcing her name, rushed into the cabin, and in a frantic manner, entreated the Emperor not to go to St. Helena, nor take her husband with him. But observing the astonishment, coolness, and calm answer of Napoleon, she ran out as precipitately as she had entered. The Emperor, still surprised, turned to me and said, “Can you comprehend all this? Is she not mad?” A moment afterwards loud shrieks were heard, and every body seemed to be running towards the stern of the ship. Being desired to ring the bell, and to enquire the cause, I found that Madame Bertrand, on leaving the cabin, had attempted to throw herself into the sea, and was prevented with the greatest difficulty. From this scene it is easy to judge of our feelings!

2d-3d. In the morning the Duke de Rovigo told me I was certainly to depart for St. Helena: while in conversation with the Emperor, a short time before, his Majesty had said to him that, if there were only two to accompany him, I should still be one of the number, as he thought I could afford him some consolation. I am indebted to the candour and kindness of the Duke for the satisfaction of being made acquainted with this flattering assurance, and am truly grateful, as, but for him, it would never have been known to me. The Emperor had not said a word in reply to my answer; this was his custom, as I shall have other opportunities of shewing.

I had no particular acquaintance with any of those who had followed the Emperor, excepting General and and Madame Bertrand, who had shewn me great attentionattention during my mission to Illyria, where he was Governor-General. I had until then never spoken to the Duke de Rovigo, certain prepossessions having induced me to keep at a distance; we had, however, scarcely exchanged a few words, when my scruples were completely removed. Savary was sincerely attached to the Emperor; I knew he possessed warmth of heart, sincerity, and uprightness of character, qualities which rendered him susceptible of real friendship; we should, therefore, I dare say, have become very intimate.

I was again sent for by the Emperor; who, after alluding to different subjects, began to speak of St. Helena, asking me what sort of a place it could be; whether it was possible to exist there? and similar questions. “But,” said he, “after all, is it quite certain that I shall go there? Is a man dependent on others, when he wishes that his dependence should cease?”—We continued to walk to and fro in the cabin; he seemed calm, though affected, and somewhat absent.

“My friend,” continued the Emperor, “I have sometimes an idea of quitting you, and this would not be very difficult; it is only necessary to create a little mental excitement, and I shall soon have escaped.—All will be over, and you can then quietly rejoin your families. This is the more easy, since my internal principles do not oppose any bar to it:—I am one of those who conceive that the pains of the other world were only imagined as a counterpoise to those inadequate allurements which are offered to us there. God can never have willed such a contradiction to his infinite goodness, especially for an act of this kind; and what is it after all, but wishing to return to him a little sooner?”

I remonstrated warmly against such notions. Poets and philosophers had said that it was a spectacle worthy of the Divinity, to see men struggling with fortune: reverses and constancy had their glory. Such a great and noble character as his could not descend to the level of vulgar minds; he who had governed us with so much glory, who had excited the admiration, and influenced the destinies, of the world, could not end like a desperate gamester or a disappointed lover. What would then become of all those who looked up to and placed their hopes in him? Would he thus abandon the field to his enemies? The anxiety shewn by the latter to drive him to it was surely sufficient to make him resist: who could tell the secrets of time, or dare assert what the future would produce? What might not happen from the mere change of a ministry, the death of a Prince, that of a confidant, the slightest passion, or the most trifling dispute?

“Some of these suggestions have their weight,” said the Emperor, “but what can we do in that desolate place?”—“Sire,” I replied, “we will live on the past: there is enough in it to satisfy us. Do we not enjoy the life of CÆsar and that of Alexander? We shall possess still more, you will re-peruse yourself, Sire!” “Be it so!” rejoined Napoleon; “we will write our Memoirs. Yes, we must be employed; for occupation is the scythe of Time. After all, a man ought to fulfil his destinies; this is my grand doctrine:^[8] letlet mine also be accomplished.” Re-assuming from this instant an air of ease and even gaiety, he passed on to subjects totally unconnected with our situation.

DEPARTURE FROM PLYMOUTH.—CONTINUANCE IN THE CHANNEL.—PROTEST.

4th.—Orders had arrived during the night for us to sail at an early hour; we set sail, which circumstance puzzled us much. The newspapers, official communications, and private conversations, told us we were to be conveyed to St. Helena by the Northumberland: we knew that this ship was still fitting out at Portsmouth or Chatham, so that we might still calculate on eight or ten days’ delay. The Bellerophon was too old for the voyage, she had not provisions enough; moreover the wind was contrary; when therefore we saw the ship returning up Channel, our uncertainty and conjectures were renewed, but whatever these might be, every thing was welcome when compared to the idea of transportation to St. Helena.

Nevertheless, it occurred to us that, in such a decisive moment, the Emperor was bound to shew a formal opposition to this violence; as to Napoleon himself, he attached but little importance to it, nor would he trouble himself about the matter. However, said we, it will be a weapon in the hands of our friends, and leave causes of remembrance as well as grounds of defence with the public. I ventured, therefore, to read a paper I had prepared to his Majesty, with the general sense of which he seemed pleased; after suppressing a few phrases, and correcting others, it was signed and sent to Lord Keith. The following is a literal copy of this document.

PROTEST.

“I hereby solemnly protest in the face of heaven and mankind, against the violence that is done me; and the violation of my most sacred rights, in forcibly disposing of my person and liberty. I voluntarily came on board the Bellerophon—I am not the prisoner, I am the guest of England. I came at the instigation of the Captain himself, who said he had orders from the Government to receive and convey me to England, together with my suite, if agreeable to me. I came forward with confidence to place myself under the protection of the laws of England. When once on board the Bellerophon, I was entitled to the hospitality of the British people. If the Government, in giving the Captain of the Bellerophon orders to receive me and my followers, only wished to lay a snare, it has forfeited its honour and disgraced its flag.

“If this act be consummated it will be in vain for the English henceforth to talk of their sincerity, their laws, and liberties. British faith will have been lost in the hospitality of the Bellerophon.

“I appeal to history: it will say that an enemy who made war for twenty years against the English people came spontaneously, in the hour of misfortune, to seek an asylum under their laws. What more striking proof could he give of his esteem and confidence? But how did England reply to such an act of magnanimity? It pretended to hold out a hospitable hand to this enemy; and, on giving himself up with confidence, he was immolated!

(Signed)“Napoleon.”

Bellerophon at Sea, Friday, Aug. 4th, 1815.

The Duke de Rovigo told me that the Emperor had demanded permission to send me to the Prince Regent at London, but that it was obstinately refused.

The sea was rough, and the wind blew with violence. Most of us were affected with sea-sickness. But what cannot the pre-occupation of the mind effect over physical infirmities! This was perhaps the only time in my life that I was not incommoded by such weather. On leaving Plymouth Sound, we stood to the eastward before the wind, but were soon after close-hauled, tacking backwards and forwards, without being able to comprehend the cause of this new source of torment.

5th.—The whole of this day was passed in the same manner. While conversing with the Emperor in the evening he gave me two proofs of confidence, but I cannot now confide them to paper.^[9]

ANCHORED OFF START POINT.—PERSONS ALLOWED TO ACCOMPANY THE EMPEROR.

6th.—We anchored about noon off Start Point, where there was no shelter whatever, though we had but a very short distance to go in order to anchor in Torbay: this circumstance excited great astonishment on our part. We had, however, heard that orders were given to meet the Northumberland, the departure of which vessel from Portsmouth was urged with all possible haste. Accordingly that ship soon appeared with two frigates full of troops, which were to compose the garrison of St. Helena. These three ships anchored close to us; after which the communications amongst the whole squadron became very active. The precautions to prevent the approach of boats were still continued. Meanwhile the mystery of our precipitate sailing from Plymouth, and all the manoeuvring that followed, was discovered. Lord Keith had, we were told, received notice, by telegraph, that a public officer had just left London with a writ of habeas corpus, to claim the person of the Emperor in the name of the laws or of some competent tribunal. We could neither ascertain the motives nor details of this circumstance: the Admiral, it was added, had scarcely time enough to escape this difficulty; we heard that he was suddenly obliged to go on board a brig, and quit Plymouth Sound. This was the motive which kept us out of Torbay.

Admirals Keith and Cockburn came on board the Bellerophon; the flag of the latter was flying on board the Northumberland: they had a conference with the Emperor, to whom they delivered an extract from the instructions relative to our transportation to and stay at St. Helena. These stated that all our effects were to be examined, for the purpose of taking away the money, bills, and diamonds, belonging to the Emperor, as well as ourselves, to be kept for us: we also heard that our arms would be taken from us at the same time, and that we were then to be transferred to the Northumberland. The documents were as follow:

ORDER FROM LORD KEITH TO CAPTAIN MAITLAND
OF THE BELLEROPHON.

“All arms of every description are to be taken from the French, of whatever rank, who are on board his Majesty’s ship under your command. These arms will be carefully packed, and are to remain in your charge so long as the persons to whom they belong continue on board the Bellerophon. They will then be under the charge of the captain of the ship to which the said individuals may be transferred.”

Start Bay, August 6th, 1815.

INSTRUCTIONS OF MINISTERS TO ADMIRAL COCKBURN.

“When General Buonaparte leaves the Bellerophon to go on board the Northumberland, it will be the properest moment for Admiral Cockburn to have the effects examined which General Buonaparte may have brought with him. The Admiral will allow the baggage, wines, (the wines! an observation truly worthy of the English Ministers,) and provisions which the General may have brought with him, to be taken on board the Northumberland. Among the baggage his table-service shall be understood as included, unless it be so considerable as to seem rather an article to be converted into ready money than for real use. His money, his diamonds, and his saleable effects (consequently bills of exchange also), of whatever kind they may be, must be delivered up. The Admiral will declare to the General that the British Government by no means intends to confiscate his property, but merely to take upon itself the administration of his effects, to hinder him from using them as a means to promote his escape.

“The examination shall be made in the presence of a person named by General Buonaparte, the inventory of the effects to be retained shall be signed by this person as well as by the Rear-admiral, or by the person whom we shall appoint to draw up the inventory. The interest or the principal (according as his property is more or less considerable) shall be applied to his support, and in this respect the principal arrangement is to be left to him. For this purpose he can from time to time signify his wishes to the Admiral, till the arrival of the new Governor of St. Helena, and afterwards to the latter; and, if no objection is made to his proposal, the Admiral or the Governor can give the necessary orders, and the disbursement will be paid by bills on his Majesty’s Treasury. In case of death, (what foresight!) he can dispose of his property by a last Will, and may be assured that the contents of his testament shall be faithfully executed. As an attempt might be made to make a part of his property pass for the property of the persons of his suite, it must be signified that the property of his attendants is subject to the same regulations.

“The Admiral is not to take any person on board for St. Helena, without the consent of such person, to whom he is previously to explain the necessity of being subjected to all the regulations which it may be thought proper to establish for securing the person of the General. It must be made known to the General that, if he make any attempt to escape, he will expose himself to close imprisonment; and that any of his suite who may be discovered in endeavouring to facilitate his escape will incur the same punishment. (Afterwards the Act of Parliament made the latter offence death.)

“All letters which shall be addressed to him, or to any of his suite, are to be delivered in the first place to the Admiral or the Governor, who is to read them previously to transmitting them: the same regulation is to be observed with respect to letters written by the General, or those of his suite.

“The General is to be informed that the Governor and the Admiral have received positive orders to forward to his Majesty’s Government any request or representation he may think proper to make: nothing is left to their discretion on this point; but the paper on which such representations shall be written is to remain open, in order that they may subjoin such observations as they may think expedient.”

---

It would not be easy to conceive the intensity and nature of our feelings at this decisive moment, in which outrage, violence, and injustice, were accumulated on our heads.

Constrained to reduce his suite to three persons, the Emperor selected the Grand Marshal, M. de Montholon and myself. Gourgaud, in despair at the idea of being left behind, entered into a negotiation on the subject, and succeeded. As the instructions only allowed Napoleon to take three officers, it was agreed that I should be considered purely in a civil capacity, and to admit a fourth by the aid of this interpretation.

CONVERSATION WITH LORD KEITH.—EXAMINATION OF THE EMPEROR’S EFFECTS.—HE QUITS THE BELLEROPHON.—SEPARATION.—WE SAIL FOR ST. HELENA.

7th.—The Emperor addressed to Lord Keith a species of new protest, against the violence done to his person in forcibly removing him from the Bellerophon. I took it on board the Tonnant. Admiral Keith, a fine-looking old man, of highly polished manners, received me with great politeness, but he carefully avoided touching on the subject of the protest, observing that he would give an answer in writing.

This did not stop me. I stated the situation of Napoleon, who was very unwell, his legs being much swelled; and pointed out to his lordship how desirable it was for the Emperor not to be sent off so suddenly. He replied that I had been a sailor, and must therefore see that the anchorage was unsafe, which was certainly true.

I explained the Emperor’s repugnance to have his effects searched and tossed about, as proposed; assuring him that Napoleon would infinitely prefer seeing them thrown into the sea. The Admiral answered that as this was a positive order, he must obey it. Finally I enquired whether it was probable that those appointed to search would go so far as to deprive the Emperor of his sword. He said that it would be respected, but that Napoleon was the only person exempted, as all his followers would be disarmed. I shewed him that I was already so: my sword having been taken from me before I left the Bellerophon. A secretary who was writing near us, observed to Lord Keith, in English, that the order stated that Napoleon himself was to be disarmed; upon which the Admiral drily replied, also in English, as well as I could comprehend, “Mind your own business, Sir, and leave us to ours.”

Still continuing the conversation, I went over all that had occurred from the commencement. I had been the negotiator, I said, and ought therefore to feel most acutely; and had the greater right to be heard. Lord Keith listened to me with marked impatience; we were standing, and his frequent bows were evidently intended to make me retire. When I told him that Captain Maitland said he had been authorised to bring us to England, without exciting a suspicion in our minds that we were to be prisoners of war; that the Captain could not deny that we came on board voluntarily and in confidence; that the letter of the Emperor to the Prince of Wales, which I had previously communicated to Captain Maitland, must necessarily have created tacit conditions, since he made no remarks on it: at length the Admiral’s ill-humour and even anger broke forth, and he replied sharply, that if such were the case, Captain Maitland must have been a fool, for his instructions contained nothing of the kind; and he was quite sure of this, for it was from himself they had emanated. “But, my Lord,” said I, “permit me to observe, in defence of Captain Maitland, that your Lordship speaks with a degree of severity for which you may become responsible; for not only Captain Maitland, but Admiral Hotham and all the other officers whom we saw at the time, conducted and expressed themselves in the same way towards us; would it have been thus, if their instructions had been so clear and positive?” Saying this, I relieved the Admiral of my presence: he made no attempt to prolong a subject which, perhaps, his Lordship’s conscience rendered somewhat painful to him.

Admiral Cockburn, aided by an officer of the customs, examined the effects of the Emperor: they seized four thousand Napoleons, and left fifteen hundred to pay the servants: this was all the Emperor’s treasure. They were assisted, or rather impeded, in the operation by Marchand, the valet-de-chambre of his Majesty: this appeared to mortify the Admiral excessively; though requested to attend, not one amongst us would lend his presence to, or witness, an act which we regarded as being at once mean and insulting.

Meanwhile, the moment of quitting the Bellerophon arrived. The Grand Marshal had been some time closeted with the Emperor; during which we remained in the outer cabin: on the door being opened, the Duke de Rovigo, bursting into tears, threw himself at the feet of Napoleon, and kissed his hands. The Emperor, still calm and collected, embraced the Duke, and continued his way towards the accommodationaccommodation-ladder, graciously saluting all those who happened to be on the quarter-deck. The whole of our party whom we left behind were in a state of the deepest anguish; nor could I help observing to Lord Keith, who stood near me at the time, “You see, my Lord, that the only persons who shed tears are those who are to remain.”

We reached the Northumberland between one and two o’clock. The Emperor remained on deck conversing familiarly and cheerfully with those of the English who approached him. Lord Lowther and a Mr. Littleton had a long conversation with him on politics and government. I heard nothing of what passed; the Emperor seemed desirous that we should leave him to himself. I employed this moment of leisure in writing a last adieu to my wife and friends: indeed, I felt very unwell and much fatigued.

At the moment of getting under weigh, a cutter, that was plying round the ship to keep off the people, ran down a boat full of spectators close to us. Fatality seems to have brought them from a great distance to become the victims of this accident: I understood that there were two women amongst those who perished. Thus were we at length under sail for St. Helena, thirteen days after our arrival at Plymouth, and forty from our quitting Paris.

Those of the attendants whom Napoleon was not allowed to take with him were the last to quit the ship, bearing with them mingled proofs of satisfaction and regret. Their departure gave rise to a second scene, not less affecting than the first. The Emperor retired to the cabin allotted to him about seven o’clock.

The English Ministry warmly censured the respect which had been shewn to the Emperor on boardboard the Bellerophon, and issued fresh orders in consequence; so that a totally different style of manner and expression was affected in the Northumberland. The crew seemed to betray a ridiculous anxiety to be covered before the Emperor: it had been strictly enjoined to give him no other title than that of General, and only to treat him as such. This was the ingenious contrivance, the happy conception, engendered by the diplomacy of the English Ministers; and the title they thought proper to confer on him whom they had recognised as First Consul, whom they had so often styled head of the French Government, with whom they treated as Emperor at Paris, when Lord Lauderdale was employed to negotiate, and, perhaps, even signed articles at Chatillon. Hence, in a moment of warmth, the Emperor, in allusion to this regulation, observed: “They may call me whatever they choose, but they cannot prevent me from being myself.” It was in fact no less whimsical than ridiculous to see the Ministers of England attach such importance to giving only the title of General to one who had governed so large a portion of Europe, and made seven or eight kings, of whom several still retained this title of his creation; who had been above ten years Emperor of the French, and been anointed as well as consecrated in that quality by the head of the Church; one who could boast two or three elections of the French people to the sovereignty; who had been acknowledged as Emperor by the whole of continental Europe; had treated as such with all the sovereigns; concluding every species of alliance both of blood and interest with them: so that he united in his person every title, civil, political and religious, existing amongst men: and which, by a singular though real coincidence, not one of the reigning Princes of Europe could have shewn accumulated in an equal degree, on the chief and founder of his dynasty. Nevertheless his Majesty, who intended, had he landed in England, to assume the name and title of Colonel Duroc or Muiron, no longer thought of it now that his legitimate titles were obstinately disputed.

DESCRIPTION OF THE EMPEROR’S CABIN ON BOARD THE NORTHUMBERLAND.

8th-9th. The ship was in the greatest confusion, and seemed to be quite encumbered with men as well as stores and luggage: we sailed in so great a hurry that there was scarcely any thing on board in its place, so that the whole crew was now occupied in restoring order, and preparing for the voyage.

The following particulars will afford some idea of that part of the ship occupied by the Emperor and his suite. The space abaft the mizen-mast contained two public and two private cabins; the first was a dining-room about ten feet broad, and extending the whole width of the ship, lighted by a port-hole at each end, and a sky-light above. The drawing-room was composed of all the remaining space, diminished by two symmetrical cabins on the right and left, each having an entry from the dining or mess-room, and another from the drawing-room. The Emperor occupied that on the left, in which his camp bed-stead had been put up; that on the right was appropriated to the Admiral. It was, above all, peremptorily enjoined that the drawing-room should be in common, and not given up to the Emperor: to such a ridiculous extent had the fears and solicitude of the Ministry been carried!

The form of the dining-table resembled that of the mess-room. The Emperor sat with his back to the drawing-room or after-cabin, and looking towards the head of the ship; on his left sat Madame Bertrand, and on his right, the Admiral. On the right of the Admiral sat Madame de Montholon: these filled one side of the table. At the end next that lady was Captain Ross, who commanded the ship; opposite to whom, at the corresponding end, sat M. de Montholon, by Madame Bertrand; next to him, the Admiral’s secretary. The remaining space was the side of the table opposite to the Emperor, which, beginning from Captain Ross, was occupied by the Grand Marshal, the General commanding the 53rd regiment, myself, and Baron Gourgaud.

The Admiral invited one or two of the officers every day, who were intermixed amongst us at table. I generally sat almost opposite to the Emperor. The band of the 53d, which had been recently formed, exercised during dinner at the expense of our ears. We had two courses, but there was a want of provisions; our tastes were, besides, very different from those of our hosts. It is true, they did their utmost; but after all, it would not do to be difficult. I was lodged with my son on the starboard side, even with the main-mast, in a small cabin enclosed with canvass, and having a gun in it. We made as much sail as the wind would permit to get out of the Channel, and stood along the coast of England, communicating with all the ports in order to procure additional supplies of sea-stock, and complete the stores of the ship. A large quantity of articles was brought to us from Plymouth, off which port we were joined by several other vessels, as well as from Falmouth.

LOST SIGHT OF LAND.—REFLECTIONS.—ARGUMENT AGAINST THE ENGLISH MINISTERS.

10.—This day we cleared the Channel, and lost sight of land. We had now entered upon the dreary unknown course to which fate had doomed us. Again my agonies were renewed; again the dear connexions I had abandoned resumed their influence over my heart. I indulged in the luxuriance of grief, and found a miserable satisfaction in its excess. “Objects of all my affections,” I exclaimed, “friends of my heart, for whom alone I live, reflect that I am proving myself worthy of you. Let that thought support you also; and, oh! forget me not.”

Meanwhile we advanced in our course, and were soon to be out of Europe. Thus, in less than six weeks, had the Emperor abdicated his throne, and placed himself in the hands of the English, who were now hurrying him to a barren rock in the midst of a vast ocean! This is certainly no ordinary instance of the chances of fortune, and no common trial of the firmness of the mind. Yet will posterity be better able to judge of these three leading circumstances than we of the present day. They will have to pronounce on a clear horizon; whereas we are enveloped in clouds.

Scarcely had Napoleon descended from his throne, when those who witnessed the misfortunes of the nation, which followed, regarded his sacrifice as a capital error. When they heard of his being a prisoner at Plymouth, they censured his magnanimity; there was not a single incident, even to his suffering himself to be sent to St. Helena, which they did not make a subject of reproach. But such is the tendency of vulgar minds: never judging except on what they see at the moment! It is, however, impossible to judge of one resolution without considering, not only the evils which unavoidably attend it, but those which a contrary determination might have produced.

By abdicating, Napoleon rallied all the friends of their country round one point—that of its safety! He left France demanding, before all nations, nothing but the sacred rights of national independence; he took from the Allies every pretext to ravage and dismember our territory; he destroyed all idea of his personal ambition; terminating his career as the martyr of a cause of which he had been the hero. If all the advantages which might have been derived from his genius and talents as a citizen were not obtained, it is to be imputed to the weakness and treachery of the transitory Government by which he was succeeded. When he arrived at Rochefort, and the commander of the frigates refused to sail, ought he to have abandoned the fruits of his abdication? Should he have returned to the interior, and placed himself at the head of mere bands, when he had renounced armies? or, ought he to have desperately encouraged a civil war which would lead to no beneficial result, but only serve to ruin the remaining pillars, the future hopes, of the country? In this state of affairs, he formed a most magnanimous resolution, worthy of his life, and a complete refutation of the calumnies that for twenty years had been so ridiculously accumulated on his head. But what will history say of those Ministers of a liberal nation, the guardians and depositaries of popular rights—ever ardent in encouraging a Coriolanus, having only chains for a Camillus?

As to the reproach of suffering himself to be transported to St. Helena, it would be a disgrace to answer such a charge. To contend with an adversary in the cabin of a ship—kill some one with his own hand—or attempt to set fire to the powder-magazine, would have been, at best, the act of a Buccaneer. Dignity in misfortune, submission to necessity, have also their glory: it is that which becomes great men overwhelmed by adversity.

When the English Ministers found themselves in possession of Napoleon’s person, passion had much more influence over them than justice or policy. They neglected the triumph of their laws, denied the rights of hospitality, disregarded their own honour, and compromised that of their country. They determined to exile their guest in the midst of the ocean, to keep him prisoner on a rock, two thousand leagues from Europe, and far from all communion with mankind. It seemed that they wished to trust to the anguish of exile, the fatigues of a long voyage, privations of every kind, and the corroding influence of a burning climate, for effecting that which they feared to perform themselves. In order, however, to gain over the public voice, to make it appear that their conduct was indispensably necessary, the newspapers were instigated to irritate the passions of the multitude, by reviving former calumnies and falsehoods; while the Ministers, on their side, represented their own determination as an engagement entered into with their allies. We presented ourselves at the moment of popular effervescence, just as every thing which could render us odious had been brought forward. The public journals were full of the most virulent declamations; maliciously raking up every act and expression of the previous struggle of twenty years that could wound the national pride, or rekindle its hatred. Yet, when all England hurried to the south to see us, during our stay at Plymouth, the conduct and sentiments of the multitudes who came were enough to convince us that this factitious irritation would disappear of itself. Hence we were led to hope, on our departure, that the British people would daily grow more impartial in a cause to which they were no longer parties; that the current of public opinion would eventually turn against Ministers; and that we had thus ensured them formidable attacks and a terrible responsibility for a future day.

THE EMPEROR’S MODE OF LIVING ON BOARD
THE NORTHUMBERLAND.

11th—14th. Our course was shaped across the Bay of Biscay, and double Cape Finisterre. The wind was fair, though light; and the heat excessive: nothing could be more monotonous than the time we now passed. The Emperor breakfasted in his own cabin at irregular hours; we took our breakfast at ten o’clock, in the French style, while the English continued to breakfast in their own way at eight.

The Emperor sent for one of us every morning to know what was going on, the distance run, the state of the wind, and other particulars connected with our progress. He read much, dressed towards four o’clock, and then came into the general cabin; here he played at chess with one of the party: at five o’clock the Admiral, having come out of his cabin a few minutes before, announced that dinner was on the table.

It is well known that Napoleon was scarcely ever more than fifteen minutes at his dinner; here the two courses alone occupied from an hour to an hour and a half: this was to him a most serious annoyance, though he never mentioned it; his features, gestures, and manner, always evinced perfect indifference. Neither the new system of cookery, the difference nor quality of the dishes, ever met with his censure or approbation; he never expressed any wish or objection on the subject. He was attended by his two valets, who stood behind his chair. At first the Admiral was in the habit of offering to help the Emperor; but the acknowledgment of Napoleon was expressed so coldly that this practice was discontinued. The Admiral continued very attentive, but thenceforth only pointed out to the servants what was preferable; they alone attended to these matters, to which the Emperor seemed totally indifferent, neither seeing, noticing, nor seeking, any thing. He was generally silent, remaining in the midst of conversation as if totally unacquaintedunacquainted with the language, though it was French. If he spoke, it was to ask some technical or scientific question, and to address a few words to those whom the Admiral occasionally asked to dinner. I was the person to whom the Emperor generally addressed his questions, in order to translate them.

I need scarcely observe that the English are accustomed to remain a long time at table after the dessert, drinking and conversing: the Emperor, already tired by the tedious dinner, could never have endured this custom, and he rose, therefore from the first day, immediately after coffee had been handed round, and went out on deck followed by the Grand Marshal and myself. This disconcerted the Admiral, who took occasion to express his surprise to his officers; but Madame Bertrand, whose maternal language is English, warmly replied—“Do not forget, Admiral, that your guest is a man who has governed a large portion of the world, and that kings once contended for the honour of being admitted to his table.” “Very true,” rejoined the Admiral; and this officer, who possesses good sense, a becoming pliability of manners, and sometimes much elegance, did his utmost from that moment to accommodate the Emperor in his habits. He shortened the time of sitting at table, ordering coffee for Napoleon and those who accompanied him, even before the rest of the company had finished their dinner. The moment Napoleon had taken his coffee, he left the cabin; upon which every body rose till he had quitted the room, and then continued to take their wine for another hour.

The Emperor remained walking on deck till dark, attended by the Grand Marshal and myself. This became a regular practice, and was seldom omitted. On returning to the after-cabin, he sat down to play vingt-et-un with us, and generally retired in about half an hour.

SINGULAR GOOD FORTUNE OF THE EMPEROR.

15th.—We asked permission to be admitted into the Emperor’s presence this morning, and all entered his cabin at the same time. He was not aware of the cause of this visit:—it was his birthday, which seemed to have altogether escaped his recollection. We had been in the habit of seeing him on that anniversary, on a much larger stage, and in the midst of his power, but never were our wishes more sincere, or our hearts more full of attachment, than on the present occasion.

The days now exactly resembled each other: at night we constantly played at vingt-et-un; the Admiral and some of his officers being occasionally of the party. The Emperor used to retire after losing, according to custom his ten or twelve Napoleons; this happened to him daily, because he would persist in leaving his stake on the table, until it had produced a considerable number. To-day he had gained from eighty to a hundred. The Admiral dealt the cards: the Emperor still wished to leave his winnings, in order to see how far he could reach; but thought he could perceive it would be quite as agreeable to the Admiral if he stopped where he was. The Emperor had won sixteen times, and might have won more than sixty thousand Napoleons. While all present were expatiating on his being thus singularly favoured by fortune, an English officer observed that it was the anniversary of his birth-day.

CONTINUATION OF THE VOYAGE.—OCCUPATIONS.—THE
EMPEROR’S ORIGIN AND FAMILY.—ANECDOTES.

16th—21st. We doubled Cape Finisterre on the 16th, passed Cape St. Vincent on the 18th, and were off the Straits of Gibraltar next day. Continuing our course along the coast of Africa towards Madeira, nothing worthy of remark occurred, there being a perfect uniformity in our habits and mode of passing the time; if there was any difference, it could only arise from the subject of our conversation.

The Emperor usually remained in his cabin during the whole morning: so excessive was the heat that he only wore a very slight dress. He could not sleep, and frequently rose in the night. Reading was his chief occupation. I was sent for almost every morning, and translated from the “EncyclopÆdia Britannica,” and such other books as were on board, whatever they contained relative to St. Helena, or the countries near which we were sailing. This led to my Historical Atlas being brought under review. Napoleon had merely glanced at it on board the Bellerophon, and before that time he had but a very indistinct notion of the work. I now had the satisfaction of seeing it in the Emperor’s hands for several days, and of hearing him express the warmest approbation of my labours. The quantity and arrangementarrangement of the matter seemed more particularly to please him: he had, in fact, hitherto been but little acquainted with the book. Passing over all the others, his chief attention was attracted by the geographical charts; more especially the map of the world, which seemed principally to excite his notice and applause. I did not attempt to convince him that the geography was the weakest part of the work, displaying far less labour and research than other parts; the general tables could not easily be surpassed, either as to their method, symmetry, or facility for use; while each of the genealogical tables presented a miniature history of the country they concerned and of which they were, in all respects, both a complete analysis and a collection of elementary materials.

The Emperor asked me whether the work had been used in all our systems of education; adding, that had it been better known to him, all the schools and lyceums should have been furnished with it. He further asked, why I had published it under the borrowed name of Le Sage? I replied that a very imperfect sketch had been published in England, just after my emigration, at a time when we could not acknowledge our names as emigrants abroad, without danger to our relations in France; “and, perhaps,” said I, laughing, “I was not then cured of the prejudices of my youth; like the nobles of Bretagne, who deposited their swords with the registrar of the Civil Court, while engaged in trade, that they might not derogate from their family dignity.”

As already observed, the Emperor always rose from table long before the rest of the company: the GrandGrand Marshal and I always followed him to the quarter-deck, where I was frequently left alone with him; as General Bertrand had often to attend his wife, who suffered excessively from sea-sickness.

After the preliminary remarks on the weather, the ship’s progress, and the winds, Napoleon used to start a subject of conversation, or revive that of the preceding or some other former, day; and when he had taken eight or nine turns the whole length of the deck, he would seat himself on the second gun from the gangway on the larboard side. The midshipmen soon observed this habitual predilection, so that the cannon was thenceforth called the Emperor’s gun.

It was there that Napoleon often conversed for hours together, and that I learned for the first time a part of what I am about to relate: in doing which, I wish to observe that I shall at the same time add whatever I collected in a variety of subsequent conversations; thus presenting at one view, all that I have heard worth noting on the subject.

The name of Bonaparte may be spelt either Bonaparte or Buonaparte; as all Italians know. Napoleon’s father always introduced the u; and his uncle, the Archdeacon Lucien (who survived Napoleon’s father and was a parent to Napoleon and his brothers), at the same time, and under the same roof, wrote it Bonaparte. During his youth, Napoleon followed the example of his father. On attaining the command of the Army of Italy he took good care not to alter the orthography, which agreed with the spirit of the language; but at a later period, and when amongst the French, he wished to adopt their orthography, and thenceforth wrote his name Bonaparte.

This family for many years made a distinguished figure in the Bolognese territory: it was very powerful at Treviso; and is to be found inscribed in the Golden book of Bologna, as also amongst the patricians of Florence. When Napoleon, as General in chief of the army of Italy, entered Treviso, at the head of his victorious army, the principal inhabitants came to meet him, bringing title deeds and records, which proved that his family had once been one of the most eminent in their city.

At the interview of Dresden, before the Russian campaign, the Emperor Francis one day told Napoleon, then his son-in-law, that his family had governed as sovereigns at Treviso: a fact of which there could be no doubt, as Francis had caused all the documents proving it to be drawn up and presented to him. Napoleon replied, with a smile, that he did not wish to know anything about it, and that he preferred being the Rodolph of Hapsburgh of his own family. Francis attached much more importance to the matter: he said that it was of very little consequence to have fallen from wealth to poverty; but that it was above all price to have been of sovereign rank, and that the fact must be communicated to Maria Louisa, to whom it would afford infinite pleasure.

When, during the campaign of Italy, Napoleon entered Bologna, Marescalchi, Caprara, and Aldini, since so well known in France, and at that time deputies in the senate of their native city, came of their own accord to present the golden book, in which the name and arms of his ancestors were inscribed.

There are several houses at Florence which attest the former existence of the Buonaparte family there; many houses are even still seen bearing the escutcheons of the family.

Cesari, a Corsican or Bolognese, residing in London, who was shocked at the manner in which the British Government had received Napoleon’sNapoleon’s pacific letter on assuming the Consulate, published a genealogical notice, wherein he established the Emperor’s alliance with the ancient house of Este, Welf, or Guelf, supposed to be the parent stem of the present royal family of England.^[10]

The Duke de Feltre, French ambassador in Tuscany, brought to Paris, from the Gallery de Medici, the portrait of a Buonaparte who had married a princess of the Grand Duke’s family. The mother of Pope Nicholas V. or Paul V., of Sarzana, was also a Buonaparte.

It was a Buonaparte who negotiated the treaty by which Leghorn was exchanged for Sarzana. It is to a Buonaparte that we are indebted for one of the oldest comedies written at the period of the revival of letters intitled The Widow. It may still be seen in the Royal Library at Paris.^[11]

When Napoleon marched against Rome at the head of the French army, and received the propositions of the Pope at Tolentino, one of the negotiators of the enemy observed that he was the only Frenchman who had marched against Rome since the Constable de Bourbon; but what rendered this circumstance still more singular was that the history of the first expedition was written by an ancestor of him who executed the second, that is to say, Signor Niccolo Buonaparte, who has in reality left us a work, called The Sacking of Rome by the Constable de Bourbon.^[12]

Hence, perhaps, or from the Pope mentioned above, the name of Niccolo, which the writers of certain pamphlets pretended to be that of the Emperor, instead of Napoleon. This work is to be found in most libraries; it is preceded by a history of the house of Buonaparte, printed about forty or fifty years ago, and edited by Dr. Vaccha, a professor of Pisa.

M. de Cetto, ambassador of Bavaria, has often told me that the archives of Munich contained a great number of documents, in Italian, which proved the antiquity and importance of the Buonaparte family.

During the continuance of his power, Napoleon always refused to take any pains, or even to enter into conversation, on the subject. The first attempt to turn his attention to this matter occurred in the time of his Consulate, and was so much discouraged that no one ever sought to renew the discussion. Some person published a genealogy, in which he contrived to connect the family of Napoleon with certain northern kings. Napoleon caused this specimen of flattery to be ridiculed in the public papers in which the writers concluded by observing that the nobility of the First Consul only dated from Montenotte, or from the 18th of Brumaire.

This family suffered, like many others, from the numerous revolutions which desolated the cities of Italy. The troubles of Florence placed the Buonapartes amongst the fuorusciti, or emigrants. One of the family retired to Sarzana in the first instance, and thence went to Corsica, from which island his descendants always continued to send their children to Tuscany, where they were educated under the care of the branch that remained at San Miniato. The second sons of this branch had borne the name of Napoleon for several generations, which was derived from an ancestor thus named, celebrated in the annals of Italy.

When on his way to Florence, after the expedition to Leghorn, Napoleon slept at the house of an old AbbÉ Buonaparte, at San Miniato, who treated the whole of his staff with great magnificence. Having exhausted all the family recollections, the AbbÉ told the young General that he was going to bring forth the most precious document of all. Napoleon thought he was about to shew him a fine genealogical tree, well calculated to gratify his vanity (said he, laughing); but it was a memorial regularly drawn up in favour of father Buonaventura Buonaparte, a Capuchin friar of Bologna, long since beatified, but who had not yet been canonized owing to the enormous expense which it required. “The Pope will not refuse you,” said the good AbbÉ, “if you ask him; and should it be necessary to pay the sum now, it will be a mere trifle for you.” Napoleon laughed heartily at this simplicity, so little in harmony with the manners of the day: the old man never dreamt that the saints were no longer in fashion.

On reaching Florence, Napoleon conceived it would be very satisfactory to his namesake to send him the ribbon of the order of St. Stephen, of which he was merely a knight; but the pious AbbÉ was much less anxious about the favours of this world than the religious justice which he so pertinaciously claimed: and, as it afterwards appeared, not without reason. The Pope, when he came to Paris to crown the Emperor, also recurred to the claims of Father Buonaventura. “It was doubtless he,” said the Pope, “who, from his seat amongst the blessed, had led his relative, as it were, by the hand through the glorious earthly career he had traversed; and who had preserved Napoleon in the midst of so many dangers and battles.” The Emperor, however, always turned a deaf ear to these remarks; leaving it to the holy father’s own discretion to provide for the glory of Buonaventura. As to the old AbbÉ of San Miniato, he left his fortune to Napoleon, who presented it to one of the public establishments in Tuscany.

It would, however, be very difficult to connect any genealogical data in this place, from the conversations of the Emperor, who used often to say he had never looked at one of his parchments: these having always remained in the hands of his brother Joseph, whom he styled the “genealogist of the family.” And, lest I may forget it, I will here mention the fact of Napoleon’s having, when on the point of embarking, delivered a packet to his brother, containing all the original letters addressed to him by the sovereigns of Europe in their own hand-writing. I frequently expressed my regret to the Emperor at his parting with such a precious historical manuscript.^[13]

Charles Buonaparte, the father of Napoleon, was extremely tall, handsome, and well-made; his education had been well conducted at Rome and Pisa, where he studied the law: he is said to have possessed great spirit and energy. It was he who, on its being proposed to submit to France, in the public assembly of Corsica, delivered a speech which electrified the whole country: he was not more than twenty years of age at this period. “If it only depended on the will to become free,” said he, “all nations would be so; yet history teaches us that very few have attained the blessings of liberty, because few have had energy, courage, and virtue enough to deserve them.”

When the island was conquered, he wished to accompany Paoli in his emigration; but an old uncle, the Archdeacon Lucien, who exercised the authority of a parent over him, prevented his departure.

In 1779, Charles Buonaparte was elected deputy to represent the nobles of Corsica at Paris, whither he brought young Napoleon with him, then only ten years old. He passed through Florence on his way, and obtained a letter of introduction from the Grand Duke Leopold to his sister the Queen of France. It was to his known rank and the respectability of his name and family in Tuscany, that he was indebted for this mark of attention.

Charles Bonaparte.
London. Published for Henry Colburn. January, 1836.

There were two French generals in Corsica, at the above period, so inimical to each other that their quarrels formed two parties; one was M. de Marbeuf, a mild and popular character, and the other, M. de Narbonne Pellet, distinguished for haughtiness and violence. The latter, from his birth and superior interest, must have been a dangerous man for his rival: fortunately for M. de Marbeuf, he was much more beloved in the island. When the deputation headed by Charles Buonaparte arrived at Versailles, he was consulted on the dispute, and the warmth of his testimony obtained a triumph for Marbeuf. The Archbishop of Lyons, nephew to Marbeuf, thought it his duty to wait on the deputy, and thank him for the service he had rendered. On young Napoleon’s being placed in the military school of Brienne, the Archbishop gave him a special recommendation to the family of Brienne, which lived there during the greater part of the year: hence the friendly demeanour of the Marbeufs and Briennes towards the children of the Buonaparte family. Calumny has assigned another cause, but the simple examination of dates is fully sufficient to prove its absurdity.

Old M. de Marbeuf, who commanded in Corsica, lived at Ajaccio, where the family of Charles Buonaparte was one of the principal. Madame Buonaparte being the most fascinating and beautiful woman in the town, it was very natural for the General to frequent her house in preference to many other places of resort.

Charles Buonaparte died at the age of thirty-eight, of an induration in the glands of the stomach. He had experienced a temporary cure during one of his visits to Paris, but became the victim of a second attack at Montpellier, where he was interred in one of the convents of the city.

During the Consulate, the notables of Montpellier, through the medium of their countryman Chaptal, minister of the interior, solicited the permission of the First Consul to erect a monument to the memory of his father. Napoleon thanked them for their good intentions, but declined acceding to their solicitation. “Let us not disturb the repose of the dead,” said he; “let their ashes remain in peace. I have also lost my grandfather and great-grandfather; why not erect monuments to them? This might lead too far. Had my father died yesterday, it would be proper and natural that my grief should be accompanied by some signal mark of respect. But his death took place twenty years ago: it is an event of no public interest, and it is useless to revive the recollection of it.” At a subsequent period Louis Buonaparte, without the knowledge of Napoleon, had his father’s remains disinterred, and removed to St. Leu, where he erected a monument to his memory.

Charles Buonaparte had been the very reverse of devout; he had even written some anti-religious poems; and yet, at the period of his death, said the Emperor, there were not priests enough for him in Montpellier. In this respect he was very different from his brother Archdeacon Lucien, a very pious and orthodox ecclesiastic, who died long after him, at a very advanced age. On his death-bed, he took great umbrage at Fesch, who, being by this time a priest, ran to him in his stole and surplice to assist him in his last moments. Lucien begged that he would suffer him to die in peace, and he breathed his last surrounded by the members of his family, giving them philosophic counsel and patriarchal benedictions.

The Emperor frequently spoke of his old uncle, who had been a second father to him, and who was for a length of time the head of the family. He was Archdeacon of Ajaccio, one of the principal dignitaries of the island. His prudence and economy re-established the affairs of the family, which had been much deranged by the extravagance of Charles. The old uncle was much revered, and enjoyed considerable authority in the district: the peasantry voluntarily submitted their disputes to his decision, and he freely gave them his advice and his blessing.

Charles Buonaparte married Mademoiselle Letitia Ramolini, whose mother, after the death of her first husband, married Captain Fesch, an officer in one of the Swiss regiments, which the Genoese usually maintained in the island. Cardinal Fesch was the issue of this second marriage, and was consequently step-brother to Madame and uncle to the Emperor.

Madame was one of the most beautiful women of her day, and she was celebrated throughout Corsica. Paoli, in the time of his power, having received an embassy from Algiers or Tunis, wished to give the Barbary envoys some notion of the attractions of the island, and for this purpose he assembled together all the most beautiful women in Corsica, among whom Madame took the lead. Subsequently, when she travelled to Brienne to see her son, her personal charms were remarked even in Paris.

During the war for Corsican liberty, Madame Buonaparte shared the dangers of her husband, who was an enthusiast in the cause. In his different expeditions she frequently followed him on horseback, while she was pregnant with Napoleon. She was a woman of extraordinary vigour of mind, joined to considerable pride and loftiness of spirit. She was the mother of thirteen children, and she might have had many more, for she was a widow at the age of thirty. Of these thirteen children, only five boys and three girls lived, all of whom performed distinguished parts in the reign of Napoleon.

Joseph, the eldest of the family, was originally intended for the church, on account of the influence possessed by Marbeuf, archbishop of Lyons, who had the patronage of numerous livings. He went through the regular course of study; but when the moment arrived for taking orders, he refused to enter the ecclesiastical profession. He was successively King of Naples and Spain.

Louis was King of Holland, and Jerome King of Westphalia. Eliza was Grand Duchess of Tuscany; Caroline, Queen of Naples; and Pauline, Princess Borghese. Lucien, who through his marriage and a mistaken direction of character, doubtless forfeited a crown, atoned for all his past errors by throwing himself into the arms of the Emperor on his return from Elba, at a moment when Napoleon was far from relying on the certainty of his prospects. Lucien, the Emperor used to say, passed a turbulent career in his youth: at the age of fifteen he was taken to France by M. Semonville, who soon made him a zealous revolutionist and an ardent clubist. On this subject the Emperor said that in the numerous libels published against him were some addresses or letters, bearing, among other signatures, that of Brutus Buonaparte, which were attributed to him, Napoleon; he would not affirm, he added, that these addresses were not written by some individual of the family, but he could declare that they were not his production.

I had the opportunity of rendering myself acquainted with the sentiments of Prince Lucien, on the Emperor’s return from Elba, and am enabled to say that it would have been difficult for any man to have been more upright and steady in his political views, or to have evinced greater attachment and good-will towards his brother.

MADEIRA, &c.—VIOLENT GALE.—CHESS.

22nd–26th. On the 22nd we came within sight of Madeira, and at night arrived off the port. Only two of the vessels cast anchor, to take on board supplies for the squadron. The wind blew very hard, and the sea was exceedingly rough. The Emperor found himself indisposed, and I was also ill. A sudden gale arose; the air was excessively hot, and seemed to be impregnated with small particles of sand—we were now assailed by the emanations of the terrible winds from the deserts of Africa. This weather lasted throughout the whole of the following day. Our communication with the shore became extremely difficult. The English Consul came on board, and informed us that for many years there had not been such a hurricane at Madeira; the vintage was entirely destroyed, all the windows in the town were broken, and it had been found scarcely possible to breathe in the streets. All this time we continued tacking about before the town; which we continued to do throughout the whole of the following night, and the 24th, when we took on board several oxen, and stores of other provisions, such as unripe oranges, bad peaches, and tasteless pears; the figs and grapes were however excellent. In the evening we made way with great rapidity; the wind still blowing hard. On the 25th and 26th we lay-to during a portion of each day, to distribute provisions among the vessels composing the squadron; during the rest of the time, we sailed on smoothly and rapidly.

Meanwhile nothing occurred to interrupt the uniformity of the scene. Each day crept slowly on, and added to the past interval, which, as a whole, seemed brief because it was void of interest, and not characterized by any remarkable incident.

The Emperor had added to the number of his amusements by a game at piquet, which he regularly played about three o’ clock. This was succeeded by a few games at chess with the Grand Marshal, M. de Montholon, or some other individual, until dinner-time. There was no very good chess-player on board the vessel. The Emperor was but an indifferent player; he gained with some and lost with others, a circumstance which one evening led him to say, “How happens it that I frequently lose with those who are never able to beat him whom I almost always beat? Does not this seem contradictory? How is this problem to be solved?” said he, winking his eye, to shew that he was not the dupe of the constant politeness of him who was really the best player.

We no longer played at vingt-et-un in the evening: we gave up this game on account of our having played too high, at which the Emperor appeared displeased, for he was a great enemy to gaming. On returning from his afternoon walk on the deck. Napoleon played two or three games at chess, and retired to rest early.

THE CANARIES.—PASSING THE TROPIC.—DETAILS OF THE EMPEROR’S CHILDHOOD.—NAPOLEON AT BRIENNE.—PICHEGRU.—NAPOLEON AT THE MILITARY SCHOOL IN PARIS.—IN THE ARTILLERY.—HIS COMPANIONS.—NAPOLEON AT THE COMMENCEMENT OF THE REVOLUTION.

27th—31st. At daybreak on Sunday, 27th, we found ourselves among the Canaries, which we passed in the course of the day, sailing at the rate of ten or twelve knots an hour, without having perceived the famous Peak of Teneriffe—a circumstance the more extraordinary, since in clear weather it is visible at the distance of sixty leagues.

On the 29th we crossed the tropic, and observed many flying fish round the ship. On the 31st, at eleven at night, one of the sailors threw himself overboard; he was a negro who had got drunk, and was fearful of the flogging that awaited him. He had several times, in the course of the evening, attempted to jump overboard, and at last succeeded. He however soon repented, and uttered loud cries. He swam very well; but though a boat was immediately sent off, and every endeavour used to rescue him, he was lost. The cries of this man in the sea excited a powerful sensation on board the vessel. In a moment the crew were hurrying about in every direction: the noise was very great, and the agitation universal.

As I was descending from deck to the cabin, a midshipman, a youth between ten and twelve years of age, of an interesting countenance, thinking I was going to inform the Emperor of what had occurred, laid hold of my coat, and in a tone expressive of the tenderest interest exclaimed, “Ah, Sir, do not alarm him! Tell him the noise is nothing at all; that it is only a man fallen overboard.” Amiable and innocent youth! he expressed his sentiments rather than his thoughts!

In general the midshipmen, of whom there were several on board the ship, behaved with marked respect and attention to the Emperor. They every evening repeated a scene that made a deep impression on our feelings. Early in the morning the sailors carried up their hammocks, and put them in the large nettings at the sides of the ship; and about six in the evening they carried them away at the signal of a whistle. Those who were tardy in the performance of this duty received a certain punishment. On the signal being given, a great bustle ensued; and it was gratifying to see the midshipmen at this moment form a circle round the Emperor, whether he might be standing in the middle of the deck, or resting on his favourite gun. They watched his motions with an anxious eye, and either by signs or words directed the sailors to avoid incommoding him. The Emperor frequently observed this conduct, and remarked that youthful hearts were always inclined to enthusiasm.

I will now proceed with the details, which I collected at various times, respecting the early years of the Emperor’s life.

Napoleon was born about noon on the 15th of August (Assumption-day) in the year 1769. His mother, who was possessedpossessed of great bodily as well as mental vigour, and who had braved the dangers of war during her pregnancy, wished to attend mass on account of the solemnity of the day: she was, however, taken ill at church, and on her return home was delivered before she could be conveyed to her chamber. The child, as soon as it was born, was laid on the carpet, which was an old-fashioned one, representing at full length the heroes of fable, or, perhaps, of the Iliad. This child was Napoleon.

In his boyhood Napoleon was turbulent, adroit, lively and agile in the extreme. He had gained, he used to say, the most complete ascendancy over his elder brother Joseph. The latter was beaten and ill-treated; complaints were carried to the mother, and she would begin to scold before poor Joseph had even time to open his mouth.

At the age of ten, Napoleon was sent to the military school at Brienne. His name, which in his Corsican accent he pronounced as if written NapoillonÉ, from the similarity of the sound, procured for him, among his youthful companions, the nick-name of la paille au nez (straw in his nose). At this period a great change took place in Napoleon’s character. In contradiction to all the apocryphal histories, which contain anecdotes of his life, he was when at Brienne mild, quiet, and susceptible. One day the quarter master, who was a man of harsh disposition, and who never took the trouble of considering the physical and moral shades of character in each individual scholar, condemned Napoleon, by way of punishment, to wear the serge coat, and to take his dinner on his knees at the door of the refectory. Napoleon, who had a vast share of pride and self-conceit, was so mortified by this disgrace, that he was seized with a violent retching, and suffered a severe nervous attack. The head master of the school happening accidentally to pass by, relieved him from the punishment, reproving the quarter-master for his want of discernment; and Father Patrault, the professor of mathematics, was very indignant on finding that his first mathematician had been treated with so little respect.

^[14]“On attaining the age of puberty, Napoleon’s temper became morose and reserved; his passion for reading was carried to excess; and he eagerly devoured the contents of every book that fell in his way. Pichegru was at this time his quarter-master and his tutor in the four rules of arithmetic.

“Pichegru was a native of Franche-ComtÉ, where his family were farmers. The Minim monks of Champagne were appointed to superintend the military school of Brienne. Owing to their poverty, however, so few individuals were induced to enter their order that they found themselves inadequate to the task imposed on them; and they solicited the assistance of the Minim monks of Franche-ComtÉ, of whom Father Patrault was one. An aunt of Pichegru’s, a nun of La CharitÉ, followed Patrault, for the purpose of superintending the infirmary, and she was accompanied by her nephew, a youth who was admitted to the school to receive his education gratuitously. Pichegru, who was extremely clever, was, on his attaining a suitable age, made quarter-master and tutor under Father Patrault, who had taught him mathematics. He intended to become a monk, which was the sole object of his ambition and of his aunt’s wishes. But Father Patrault dissuaded him from this intention, assuring him that the profession was not suited to the age; and that he ought to look forward to something better: he prevailed on him to enlist in the artillery, where the Revolution found him a sub-officer. His military career is known:—he was the conqueror of Holland. Thus Father Patrault had the honour of counting among his pupils the two greatest generals of modern France.

“Father Patrault was subsequently secularized by M. de Brienne, Archbishop of Sens and Cardinal de Lomenie, who made him one of his grand vicars, and intrusted him with the management of his numerous benefices.

“At the time of the Revolution, Father Patrault, though his opinions were widely opposite to those of his patron, nevertheless exerted every endeavour to save him, and with this view applied to Danton, who was a native of the same part of France to which the Cardinal and himself belonged. But all was unavailing; and it is supposed that Patrault, after the manner of the ancients, rendered to the Cardinal the service of procuring for him a poisoned draught to save him from the scaffold.

“Madame de Lomenie, the Cardinal’s niece, before her life was sacrificed by the revolutionary tribunal, intrusted Father Patrault with the care of her two daughters, who were yet in their childhood. The moment of terror having passed away, their aunt Madame de Brienne, who had escaped the storm and preserved a considerable portion of her fortune, applied to Father Patrault for the children; but he refused to give them up, on the ground that their mother had directed him to withdraw them from the world and to devote them to the occupation of peasants. He had conceived the design of literally executing these figurative commands, and was on the point of uniting them to two of his own nephews. ‘I was then,’ said Napoleon, ‘General of the Army of the Interior, and I became the mediator for the restoration of the two children, an object which was not accomplished without difficulty. Patrault employed every possible means of resistance. These daughters of Madame de Lomenie were the two ladies whom you have since known by the names of Madame de Marnesia, and the beautiful Madame de Canisy, Duchess de Vicenza.’Vicenza.’

“Father Patrault, having renewed his acquaintance with his old pupil, followed him and joined the Army of Italy, where he proved himself better able to calculate projectiles than to meet their effects. At Montenotte, Millesimo, and Dego, he evinced the most puerile cowardice. During the action he was occupied, not like Moses, in praying, but in weeping. The General-in-chief appointed him administrator of domains at Milan, from which he derived considerable profits. On Napoleon’s return from Egypt, he presented himself to him: he was no longer the little Minim monk of Champagne, but a corpulent financier, possessed of upwards of a million. Two years afterwards he again sought an interview with the First Consul at Malmaison: he now looked mean, dejected, and shabbily dressed. ‘How is this?’ inquired the Consul. ‘You see before you a ruined man,’ replied Patrault; ‘one who is reduced to beggary; the victim of severe misfortune.’ The First Consul determined to investigate the truth of this statement; he discovered that Father Patrault had commenced the trade of an usurer. The great calculator had lost his fortune through bankruptcies, in lending at great risk for a high interest. ‘I have already paid my debt,’ said the First Consul, at his next interview with him; ‘I can do no more for you; I cannot make a man’s fortune twice.’ He contented himself with granting Patrault a pension sufficient for his subsistence.

“Napoleon retained but a faint idea of Pichegru; he remembered that he was a tall man, rather red in the face. Pichegru, on the contrary, seems to have preserved a striking recollection of young Napoleon. When Pichegru joined the royalist party, he was asked whether it would not be possible to gain over the General-in-chief of the Army of Italy. ‘To attempt that would only be wasting time,’ said he: ‘from my knowledge of him when a boy, I am sure he must be a most inflexible character: he has formed his resolutions, and he will not change them.’”

The Emperor has often been much amused at the tales and anecdotes that are related of his boyhood, in the numerous little publications to which he had given rise: he acknowledges the accuracy of scarcely any of them. There is one, relative to his confirmation at the military school of Paris, which, however, he admitted to be true. It is as follows:—the archbishop who confirmed him, manifesting his astonishment at the name of Napoleon, said he did not know of any such saint, and that there was no such name in the calendar; the boy quickly replied, that that could be no rule, since there were an immense number of saints, and only 365 days.

Napoleon never observed his festival-day until after the Concordat: his patron saint was a stranger to the French Calendar, and even where his name is recorded the date of his festival is a matter of uncertainty. The Pope, however, fixed it for the 15th of August, which was at once the Emperor’s birth-day, and the day of the signing of the Concordat.

^[15]“In 1783, Napoleon was one of the scholars who, at the usual competition at Brienne, were fixed upon to be sent to the military school at Paris, to finish their education. The choice was made annually by an inspector, who visited the twelve military schools. This office was filled by the Chevalier de Keralio, a general officer, and the author of a work on military tactics. He was also the tutor of the present [the late] King of Bavaria, who in his youth bore the title of Duke of Deux-Ponts. Keralio was an amiable old man and well qualified to discharge the duty of Inspector of the military schools. He was fond of the boys, played with them when they had finished their examinations, and permitted those who had acquitted themselves most to his satisfaction to dine with him at the table of the monks. He was particularly attached to young Napoleon, and took a pleasure in stimulating him to exertion. He singled him out to be sent to Paris, though it would appear he had not at that time attained the requisite age. The lad was not very far advanced in any branch of education except mathematics, and the monks suggested that it would be better to wait till the following year, to afford time for further improvement. But this the Chevalier de Keralio would by no means agree to; ‘I know what I am about,’ said he, ‘and if I am transgressing the rules, it is not on account of family influence:—I know nothing of the friends of this youth. I am actuated only by my own opinion of his merit. I perceive in him a spark of genius which cannot be too early fostered.’ The worthy chevalier died suddenly, before he had time to carry his determination into effect; but his successor, M. de Regnaud, who would not perhaps have evinced half his penetration, nevertheless fulfilled his intention, and young Napoleon was sent to Paris.”

At this period he began to develop qualities of a superior order: decision of character, profound reflection, and vigorous conceptions. It would appear, that from his earliest childhood his parents rested all their hopes on him. His father, when on his death-bed at Montpellier, though Joseph was beside him, spoke only of Napoleon, who was then at the military school. In the delirium with which he was seized in his last moments, he incessantly called Napoleon to come to his aid with his great sword. The grand uncle, Lucien, who on his death-bed was surrounded by all his relatives, said, addressing himself to Joseph, “You are the eldest of the family; but there is the head of it (pointing to Napoleon). Never lose sight of him.” The Emperor used to laugh and say, “This was a true disinheritance: it was the scene of Jacob and Esau.”

Having myself been educated at the military school of Paris, though at an earlier period than that at which Napoleon attended it, I was enabled, on returning from my emigration, to converse about the Emperor with the masters who had been common to us both.

M. de l’Eguille, our teacher of history, used to boast that the records of the military school contained proofs of his having foretold the great career which his pupil was destined to fill; and that he had frequently, in his notes, eulogised the depth of his reflection, and the shrewdness of his judgment. He informed me that the First Consul used often to invite him to breakfast at Malmaison, and that he always took pleasure in conversing about his old lessons.—“That which made the deepest impression on me,” said he, one day to M. de l’Eguille, “was the revolt of the Constable de Bourbon, though you did not present it to us precisely in its proper light. You made it appear that his great crime was his having fought against his king; which certainly was but a trifling fault, in those days of divided nobility and sovereignty; particularly considering the scandalous injustice of which he was the victim. His great, his real, his only crime, and that on which you did not sufficiently dwell, was his having joined with foreigners to attack his native country.”

M. Domairon, our professor of belles-lettres, informed me that he had always been struck with the singularity of Napoleon’s amplifications, which he said were like granite heated in a volcano.

Only one individual formed a mistaken idea of him; that was M. Bauer, the dull heavy German master. Young Napoleon never made much progress in the German language, which offended M. Bauer, who ranked German above all things, and he in consequence formed a most contemptible opinion of his pupil’s abilities. One day, Napoleon not being in his place, M. Bauer inquired where he was, and was told that he was attending his examination in the class of artillery. “What! does he know any thing?” said M. Bauer ironically. “Why, Sir, he is the best mathematician in the school,” was the reply. “Ah! I have always heard it remarked, and I have always believed, that none but a fool could learn mathematics.” “It would be curious,” said the Emperor, “to know whether M. Bauer lived long enough to see me rise in the world, and to enjoy the confirmation of his own judgment.”

Napoleon was scarcely eighteen years of age when the AbbÉ Raynal, struck with the extent of his acquirements, appreciated his merit so highly as to make him one of the ornaments of his scientific dÉjeÛners. Finally, the celebrated Paoli, who, after having long inspired Napoleon with a sort of veneration, found the latter at the head of a party against him, the moment he shewed himself favourable to the English, was accustomed to say—“This young man is formed on the ancient model. He is one of Plutarch’s men.”

In 1785, Napoleon, who was appointed at once a cadet and an officer of artillery, quitted the military school to enter the regiment of la FÈre with the rank of second lieutenant; from which he was promoted to the rank of first lieutenant in the regiment of Grenoble.

Napoleon, on quitting the military school, went to join his regiment at Valence. The first winter he spent there, his comrades at the mess-table were LariboissiÈre, whom, during the empire, he appointed inspector-general of the artillery; Sorbier, who succeeded LariboissiÈre in that post; d’Hedouville, junior, afterwards minister plenipotentiary at Frankfort; Mallet, brother of him who headed the tumult in Paris in 1813; an officer named Mabille, whom, on his return from emigration, the Emperor appointed to a situation in the post-office; Rolland de Villarceaux, afterwards prefect of Nismes; Desmazzis, junior, his companion at the military school, and the friend of his early years, who after Napoleon ascended the throne, became keeper of the Imperial wardrobe.

There were in the corps officers more or less easy in their circumstances; Napoleon ranked among the former. He received from his family 1200 francs a year, which was then the amount of an officer’s full pay. There were two individuals in the regiment who could afford to keep cabriolets, or carriages of some kind, and they were looked upon as very great men. Sorbier was one of these two: his companions got him to drive them about, and they repaid the obligation by jokes and puns. Sorbier was the son of a physician at Moulins.

At Valence, Napoleon obtained an early introduction to Madame dudu Columbier, a lady about fifty years of age, who was endowed with many rare and estimable qualities, and who was the most distinguished person in the town. She entertained a great regard for the young artillery-officer, and through her acquaintance he mingled in all the best company in Valence and its neighbourhood. She introduced him to the AbbÉ de Saint Rufe, an elderly man of property, who was frequently visited by the most distinguished persons in the country. Napoleon was indebted for the favour he enjoyed to his extensive information, joined to the facility and force with which he turned it to account. Madame du Colombier often foretold that he would be a distinguished man. The death of this lady happened about the time of the breaking out of the Revolution: it was an event in which she took great interest, and in her last moments was heard to say that, if no misfortune befel young Napoleon, he would infallibly play a distinguished part in the events of the time. The Emperor never spoke of Madame du Colombier but with expressions of the tenderest gratitude; and he did not hesitate to acknowledge that the valuable introductions and superior company in society which she procured for him had great influence over his destiny.

The gaiety which Napoleon enjoyed at this period of his life, excited great jealousy on the part of his fellow-officers. They were displeased at seeing him absent himself so frequently from among them, though his doing so could be no reasonable ground of offence to them. Fortunately the commandant, M. d’Urtubie, had formed a just estimate of his character: he shewed him great kindness, and afforded him the means of fulfilling his military duties, and at the same time of mingling in the pleasures of society.

Napoleon conceived an attachment for Mademoiselle du Colombier, who, on her part, was not insensible to his merits. It was the first love of both; and it was that kind of love which might be expected to arise at their age and with their education. “We were the most innocent creatures imaginable,” the Emperor used to say; “we contrived little meetings together: I well remember one which took place on a Midsummer morning, just as daylight began to dawn. It will scarcely be believed that all our happiness consisted in eating cherries together.”

It has been said that the mother wished to bring about this marriage, and that the father opposed it on the ground that they would ruin each other by their union; while each was separately destined to a fortunate career. But this story is untrue, as is likewise another anecdote relative to a marriage with Mademoiselle Clary, afterwards Madame Bernadotte, now Queen of Sweden.

In 1805, the Emperor, when about to be crowned King of Italy, on passing through Lyons, again saw Mademoiselle du Colombier, who had now changed her name to Madame de Bressieux. She gained access to him with some difficulty, surrounded as he was by the etiquette of royalty. Napoleon was happy to see her again; but he found her much altered for the worse. He did for her husband what she solicited, and placed her in the situation of lady of honour to one of his sisters.

Mademoiselles de Laurencin and Saint-Germain were at that time the reigning toasts in Valence, where they divided the general admiration. The latter married Monsieur de Montalivet, who was also known to the Emperor at that time, and who was afterwards made Minister of the Interior. “He was an honest fellow,” said Napoleon, “and one who, I believe, remained firmly attached to me.”

When about eighteen or twenty years of age, the Emperor was distinguished as a young man of extensive information, possessing a reflective turn of mind and strong reasoning powers. His reading had been very extensive, and he had profoundly meditated on the fund of knowledge thus acquired, much of which, he used to say, he had probably since lost. His sparkling and ready wit and energetic language distinguished him wherever he went: he was a favourite with every one, particularly with the fair sex, to whom he recommended himself by the elegance and novelty of his ideas, and the boldness of his arguments. As for the men, they were often afraid to engage with him in those discussions into which he was led by a natural confidence in his own powers.

Many individuals, who knew him at an early period of life, predicted his extraordinary career; and they viewed the events of his life without astonishment. At an early age he gained anonymously a prize at the Academy of Lyons, on the following question, proposed by Raynal:—“What are the principles and institutions calculated to advance mankind to the highest possible degree of happiness?” The anonymous memorial excited great attention: it was perfectly in unison with the ideas of the age. It began by enquiring in what happiness consisted; and the answer was, in the perfect enjoyment of life in the manner most conformable with our moral and physical organization. After he became Emperor, Napoleon was one day conversing on this subject with M. de Talleyrand: the latter, like a skilful courtier, shortly after presented to him the famous memorial, which he had procured from the archives of the Academy of Lyons. The Emperor took it, and, after reading a few pages, threw into the fire this first production of his youth. “We can never think of every thing,” said Napoleon: and M. de Talleyrand had not taken the precaution of having it copied.

The Prince de CondÉ one day visited the Artillery school at Auxonne; and the cadets considered it a high honour to be examined by that military prince. The commandant, in spite of the hierarchy, placed young Napoleon at the head of the polygon, in preference to others of superior rank. It happened that, on the day preceding the examination, all the cannons of the polygon were spiked: but Napoleon was too much on the alert to be caught by this trick of his comrades, or snare, perhaps, of the illustrious traveller.

It is generally believed that Napoleon, in his boyhood, was taciturn, sullen, and morose: on the contrary, he was of a very lively turn. He never appeared more delighted than when relating to us the various tricks he was accustomed to play when at the School of Artillery. In describing the joyous moments of his early youth, he seems to forget the misfortunes which hold him in captivity.

There was an old commandant, upwards of eighty years of age, for whom the cadets entertained a very high respect, notwithstanding the many jokes they played upon him. One day, while he was examining them in their cannon exercise, and watching every discharge with his eye-glass, he asserted they were far from hitting the mark, and asked those near him if they had seen the ball strike. Nobody had observed the youths’ slipping aside the ball every time they loaded. The old general was rather sharp; after five or six discharges, he took it into his head to count the balls. The trick was discovered. The general thought it a very good one; but nevertheless ordered all who had participated in it to be put under arrest.

The cadets would occasionally take a pique at some of their captains, or determine to revenge themselves on others to whom they owed a grudge. They then resolved to banish them from society, and to reduce them to the necessity of putting themselves under a sort of arrest. Four or five of the cadets undertook to execute the design. They fastened on their victim; pursued him into every company, and he was not suffered to open his mouth without being methodically and logically contradicted, though always with a strict regard to politeness: at length the poor fellow found that retirement was his only alternative.

“On another occasion,” Napoleon used to relate, “one of my comrades who lodged above me unluckily took a fancy to learn to play the horn, and made such a hideous noise as completely disturbed the studies of those who were within hearing. We met each other one day on the stairs; ‘Are you not tired of practising the horn?’ said I. ‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘At any rate, you tire other people.’ ‘I am sorry for it.’ ‘It would be better if you went to practise elsewhere.’ ‘I am master of my own apartment.’ ‘Perhaps you may be taught to entertain a doubt on that point.’ ‘I scarcely think any one will be bold enough to attempt to teach me that.’” A challenge ensued; but before the antagonists met, the affair was submitted to the consideration of a council of the cadets, and it was determined that the one should practise the horn at a greater distance, and that the other should be more accommodating.

In the campaign of 1814, the Emperor again met his horn-player in the neighbourhood of Soissons or Laon: he was residing on his estate, and gave some important information respecting the enemy’s position. The Emperor made him one of his aides-de-camp; this officer was Colonel Bussy.

When attached to his artillery-regiment, Napoleon seized every opportunity of mingling in company, where he invariably made an agreeable impression. Women at that time attached a high value to wit in the other sex; it was a quality which never failed to win their good graces. Napoleon, at this period, performed what he termed his Sentimental Journey from Valence to Mont-Cenis in Burgundy, and he intended to write an account of it after the manner of Sterne. The faithful Desmazzis was of the party: he was constantly with him, and his narrative of Napoleon’s private life, if combined with the details of his public career, would form a perfect history of the Emperor. It would then be seen that, however extraordinary his life might be with respect to its incidents, yet nothing could be more simple or natural than its course.

Circumstances and reflection have considerably modified his character. Even his style of expression, now so concise and laconic, was in his youth diffuse and emphatic. At the time of the Legislative Assembly, Napoleon assumed a serious and severe demeanour, and became less communicative than before. The army of Italy also marked another epoch in his character. His extreme youth, when he went to take the command of the army, rendered it necessary that he should evince great reserve, and the utmost strictness of morals. “This was indispensably necessary,” said he, “to enable me to command men so much above me in point of age. I pursued a line of conduct truly irreproachable and exemplary. I proved myself a sort of Cato. I must have appeared such in the eyes of all. I was a philosopher and a sage.” In this character he appeared on the theatre of the world.

Napoleon was in garrison at Valence when the Revolution broke out. At that time it was made a point of particular importance to induce the artillery-officers to emigrate; and the officers, on their part, were very much divided in opinion. Napoleon, who was thoroughly imbued with the notions of the age, possessing a natural instinct for great actions and a passion for national glory, espoused the cause of the Revolution; and his example influenced the majority of the regiment. He was an ardent patriot under the Constituent Assembly; but the Legislative Assembly marked a new period in his ideas and opinions.

He was at Paris on the 21st of June, 1792, and witnessed the insurrection of the people of the Faubourgs, who traversed the garden of the Tuileries, and forced the palace. There were but 6000 men; a mere disorderly mob, whose language and dress proved them to belong to the very lowest class of society.

Napoleon was also a witness of the events of the 10th of August, in which the assailants were neither higher in rank nor more formidable in number.

In 1793, Napoleon was in Corsica, where he had a command in the National Guards. He opposed Paoli, as soon as he was led to suspect that the veteran, to whom he had hitherto been so much attached, entertained the design of betraying the island to the English. Therefore it is not true, as it has been generally reported, that Napoleon, or one of his family, was at one time in England, proposing to raise a Corsican regiment for the English service.

The English and Paoli subdued the Corsican patriots, and burnt Ajaccio. The house of the Buonapartes was destroyed in the general conflagration, and the family was obliged to fly to the Continent. They fixed their abode at Marseilles, whence Napoleon proceeded to Paris. He arrived just at the moment when the federalists of Marseilles had surrendered Toulon to the English.

CAPE VERD ISLANDS.—NAPOLEON AT THE SIEGE OF TOULON.—RISE OF DUROC AND JUNOT.—NAPOLEON QUARRELS WITH THE REPRESENTATIVES OF THE PEOPLE.—QUARRELS WITH AUBRY.—ANECDOTES RELATIVE TO VENDEMIAIRE.—NAPOLEON GENERAL OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.—INTEGRITY OF HIS MILITARY ADMINISTRATION.—HIS DISINTERESTEDNESS.—NICK-NAMED PETIT-CAPORAL.—DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE SYSTEM OF THE DIRECTORY AND THAT OF THE GENERAL OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.

September 1st—6th. On the 1st of September we found from our latitude that we should see the Cape Verd Islands in the course of the day. The sky was, however, overcast, and at night we could see nothing. The Admiral, convinced that there was a mistake in the reckoning of our longitude, was preparing to bear westward to the right, in order to fall in with the islands, when a brig, which was ahead of us, intimated by a signal that she had discovered them on the left. During the night the wind blew violently from the south-east, and if our mistake had been the reverse of what it was, and the Admiral had really borne to the right, it is not improbable that we should have been thrown out of our course; a proof that, notwithstanding the improvements in science, mistakes are very apt to take place, and that the chances of navigation are very great. As the wind continued to blow strong, and the sea was boisterous, the Admiral preferred continuing his course, rather than waiting to take in water, of which he believed he had already a sufficient store. Every thing now promised a prosperous passage; we were already very far advanced on our course. Every circumstance continued favourable; the weather was mild, and we might even have thought our voyage agreeable, had it been undertaken in the pursuit of our own plans and in conformity with our own inclinations: but how could we forget our past misfortunes, or close our eyes on the future?——

Occupation alone could enable us to support the languor and tedium of our days. I had undertaken to teach my son English; and the Emperor, to whom I mentioned the progress he was making, expressed a wish to learn also. I endeavoured to form a very simple plan for his instruction, in order to save him trouble. This did very well for two or three days; but the ennui occasioned by the study was at least equal to that which it was intended to counteract, and the English was laid aside. The Emperor occasionally reproached me with having discontinued my lessons: I replied that I had the medicine ready, if he had the courage to take it. In other respects, particularly before the English, his manners and habits were always the same: never did a murmur or a wish escape his lips; he invariably appeared contented, patient, and good-humoured.

The admiral, who, on account of our reputation, I suppose, had assumed great stiffness, on our departure from England, gradually laid aside his reserve, and every day took greater interest in his captive. He represented the danger incurred by coming on deck after dinner, owing to the damp of the evening; the Emperor would then sometimes take his arm and prolong the conversation, which never failed to gratify him exceedingly. I have been assured that the Admiral carefully noted down every particular that he could collect. If this be true, the remarks which the Emperor one day made, during dinner, on naval affairs—on the French resources in the south; those which he had already created, and those which he contemplated; and on the ports and harbours of the Mediterranean: to all of which the Admiral listened with deep attention, and as if fearful of interruption—will compose a chapter truly valuable to a seaman.

I will now return to the details collected during our ordinary conversation. The following relate to the siege of Toulon.

In September 1793, Napoleon Buonaparte, then in his twenty-fourth year, was yet unknown to the world which was destined to resound with his name. He was a lieutenant-colonel of artillery, and had been only a few weeks in Paris; having left Corsica, where political events had forced him to yield to the faction of Paoli. The English had taken possession of Toulon; an experienced artillery-officer was wanting to direct the operations of the siege, and Napoleon was fixed on. There will history take him up, never more to leave him;—there commences his immortality.

I refer to the Memoirs of the Campaign of Italy for the plan of attack which he adopted, and the manner in which that plan was carried into effect. It will there be seen that it was he, and he alone, who took the fortress. This was a great triumph, no doubt: but to appreciate it justly, it would be necessary to compare the plan of the attack with the account of the evacuation; the one is the literal prediction, and the other is the fulfilment word for word. From this moment the young commander of artillery enjoyed the highest reputation. The Emperor never looks back to this period without pleasure, and always mentions it as the happiest portion of his life. The taking of Toulon was his first successful achievement, and it naturally excites the fondest recollections. The history of the campaign of Italy will present a faithful picture of the three generals-in-chief who succeeded each other during the siege: the inconceivable ignorance of Cartaux, the gloomy brutality of Doppet, and the honest courage of Dugommier. Of them I shall here say nothing.

At the first breaking out of the Revolution, there was nothing but disorder in the matÉriel and ignorance in the personnel of the French army, which was owing both to the confusion of the times and the rapidity and irregularity with which the promotions had been made. The following story will afford an idea of the state of affairs and of the manners of the time:—

On his arrival at head-quarters, Napoleon waited on General Cartaux, a fine figure, covered with gold lace from head to foot, who asked him what duty he had been sent upon. The young officer modestly presented the letter which directed him to superintend, under the general’s command, the operations of the artillery. “This was quite unnecessary,” said the fine-looking man, twirling his whiskers; “we want no assistance to retake Toulon: however, you are welcome, and you may share the glory of burning the town to-morrow, without having experienced any of the fatigue.” And he made him stay to sup with him.

A party of thirty sat down to table; the general alone was served like a prince, while every one else was dying of hunger; a circumstance which, in those days of equality, strangely shocked the new guest. The next morning, at break of day, the general took him out in his cabriolet, to admire, as he said, the preparations for attack. As soon as he had crossed the height, and come within sight of the roads, they got out of the carriage, and entered some vineyards by the road side. The commandant of artillery then perceived some pieces of ordnance, and some digging, for which it was literally impossible for him in the slightest degree to account. “Dupas,” said the general haughtily, turning to his aide-de-camp, his confidential man, “are those our batteries?”—“Yes, general.”—“And our park?” “There, close at hand.”—“And our red-hot balls?”—“In yonder houses, where two companies have been employed all the morning in heating them.”—“But how shall we be able to carry these red-hot balls?” This consideration seemed to puzzle them both completely, and they turned to the officer of artillery, and begged to know whether, through his scientific knowledge, he could not explain how the thing was to be managed. Napoleon, who would have been very much tempted to take the whole for a hoax, had his interrogators evinced less simplicity, for they were more than a league and a half from the object of attack, summoned to his aid all the gravity he was master of, and endeavoured to persuade them, before they troubled themselves about red-hot balls, to try the range of the shot with cold ones. After a great deal of trouble, he at length prevailed on them to follow his advice, but not till he had very luckily made use of the technical term coup d’Épreuve, (proof-shot,) which took their fancy, and brought them over to his opinion. They then made the experiment, but the shot did not reach to a third of the distance required: and the general and Dupas began to abuse the Marseillais and the Aristocrats who had, they said, maliciously spoiled the powder. In the mean time the representative of the people came up on horseback: this was Gasparin, an intelligent man, who had served in the army.—Napoleon, perceiving how things were going on, and boldly deciding on the course he meant to pursue, immediately assumed great confidence of manner, and urged the representative to intrust him with the whole direction of the affair. He exposed, without hesitation, the unparalleled ignorance of all who were about him, and from that moment took upon himself the entire direction of the siege.

Cartaux was a man of such limited intellect that it was impossible to make him understand that, to facilitate the taking of Toulon, it would be necessary to make the attack at the outlet of the road. When the commandant of artillery sometimes pointed to this outlet on the map, and told him there was Toulon, Cartaux suspected he knew very little of geography; and when, in spite of his opposition, the authority of the representative decided on the adoption of this distant point of attack, the general was haunted by the idea of treasonable designs, and he would often remark, with great uneasiness, that Toulon did not lie in that direction.

Cartaux wanted one day to oblige the commandant to erect a battery, with the rear of the guns so close against the front of a house as to leave no room for the recoil. On another occasion, on his return from the morning parade, he sent for the commandant to tell him that he had just discovered a position, from which a battery of from six to twelve pieces would infallibly carry Toulon in a few days: it was a little hillock which would command three or four forts and several points of the town. He was enraged at the refusal of the commandant of artillery, who observed to him that, although the battery commanded every point, it was itself commanded by every point; that the twelve guns would have one hundred and fifty to oppose them; and that simple subtraction would suffice to show him his disadvantage. The commandant of the engineer department was called on for his opinion, and, as he concurred without hesitation in that of the commandant of artillery, Cartaux said that it was impossible to do any thing with those learned corps, as they all went hand-in-hand. At length, to put a stop to difficulties which were continually recurring, the representative decided that Cartaux should communicate to the commandant of artillery his general plan of attack, and that the latter should execute the details, according to the rules of his department. The following was Cartaux’s memorable plan:—“The general of artillery shall batter Toulon during three days, at the expiration of which time I will attack it with three columns, and carry it.”

At Paris, however, the engineer committee found this summary measure much more humorous than wise, and it was one of the causes which led to Cartaux’s recal. There was indeed no want of plans; for, the retaking of Toulon having been proposed as a subject for competition in the popular societies, plans poured in from all quarters. Napoleon says he must have received at least six hundred during the siege. It was to the representative Gasparin that Napoleon was indebted for the triumph of his plan (that which took Toulon) over the objections of the Committees of the Convention. He preserved a grateful recollection of this circumstance: it was Gasparin, he used to say, who had first opened his career.^[16]

In all the disputes between Cartaux and the commandant of artillery, which usually took place in the presence of the general’s wife, the latter uniformly took the part of the officer of artillery, saying, with great naÏvetÉ to her husband, “Let the young man alone, he knows more about it than you do, for he never asks your advice; besides, it is you who are to give the account: the glory will be yours.”

This woman was not without some share of good sense. On her return to Paris, after the recal of her husband, the jacobins of Marseilles gave a splendid fÊte in honour of the disgraced family. In the course of the evening the conversation happened to fall on the commandant of artillery, who was enthusiastically praised. “Do not reckon on him,” said she; “that young man has too much understanding to remain long a sans-culotte.” On which the general exclaimed, with the voice of a Stentor, “Wife Cartaux, would you make us all out to be fools then?” “No, I do not say that, my dear; but ... I must tell you, he is not one of your sort.”

One day, at head quarters, a superb carriage arrived from the Paris road; it was followed by a second, and a third; and at length no fewer than fifteen appeared. It may be imagined how great was the astonishment and curiosity occasioned by such a circumstance in those times of republican simplicity. The grand monarque himself could not have travelled with greater pomp. The whole cavalcade had been procured by a requisition in the capital; several of the carriages had belonged to the Court. About sixty soldiers, of fine appearance, alighted from them, and inquired for the General-in-chief; they marched up to him with the important air of ambassadors:—“Citizen General,” said the orator of the party, “we come from Paris; the patriots are indignant at your inactivity and delay. The soil of the Republic has long been violated; she is enraged to think that the insult still remains unavenged: she asks, why is Toulon not yet retaken? Why is the English fleet not yet destroyed? In her indignation, she has appealed to her brave sons; we have obeyed her summons, and burn with impatience to fulfil her expectation. We are volunteer gunners from Paris: furnish us with arms, to-morrow we will march upon the enemy.” The General, disconcerted at this address, turned to the commandant of artillery, who promised, in a whisper, to rid him of these heroes next morning. They were well received, and at day-break the commandant of artillery led them to the sea-shore, and put some guns at their disposal. Astonished to find themselves exposed from head to foot, they asked whether there was no shelter or epaulement. They were told that all those things were out of fashion; that patriotism had abolished them. Meanwhile, an English frigate fired a broadside, and put all the braggadocios to flight. There was but one cry throughout the camp; some openly fled, and the rest quietly mingled with the besiegers.

Disorder and anarchy now prevailed. Dupas, the factotum of the General-in-chief, a man of no ability, made himself busy, and was continually meddling with the artillery-men in the arrangement of their field-train and batteries. A plan was formed to get rid of him. They turned him into ridicule, and urged each other on till they became very vehement in their jokes. On a sudden Dupas appeared among them with all his usual confidence, giving orders and making inquiries about every thing he saw. He received uncivil answers, and high words arose. The tumult spread on every side; cries of l’aristocrate and la lanterne were echoed from every mouth; and Dupas clapped both spurs to his horse, and never returned to annoy them.

The commandant of artillery was to be seen every where. His activity and knowledge gave him a decided influence over the rest of the army. Whenever the enemy attempted to make a sortie, or compelled the besiegers to have recourse to rapid and unexpected movements, the heads of columns and detachments were always sure to exclaim, “Run to the commandant of artillery, and ask him what we are to do; he understands the localities better than any one.” This advice was uniformly adopted without a murmur. He did not spare himself; he had several horses killed under him, and received from an Englishman a bayonet-wound in his left thigh, which for a short time, threatened to require amputation.

Being one day in a battery where one of the gunners was killed, he seized the rammer, and, with his own hands, loaded ten or twelve times. A few days afterwards he was attacked with a violent cutaneous disease. No one could conceive where he had caught it, until Muiron, his adjutant, discovered that the dead gunner had been infected with it. In the ardour of youth and the activity of service, the commandant of artillery was satisfied with slight remedies, and the disorder disappeared; but the poison had only entered the deeper into his system, it long affected his health, and well nigh cost him his life. From this disorder proceeded the meagreness, the feebleness of body, and sickly complexion, which characterized the General-in-chief of the army of Italy and of the army of Egypt.

It was not till a much later period, at the Tuileries, that Corvisart succeeded, by the application of numerous blisters on his chest, in restoring him to perfect health; and it was then that he acquired the corpulence for which he has since been remarked.

From being the commandant of artillery in the army of Toulon, Napoleon might have become general-in-chief before the close of the siege. The very day of the attack on Little Gibraltar, General Dugommier, who had delayed it for some days, wished to delay it still longer; about three or four o’clock in the afternoon, the Representatives sent for Napoleon: they were dissatisfied with Dugommier, particularly on account of his delay; they wished to deprive him of the command, and to transfer it to the chief of the artillery, who declined accepting it. Napoleon went to the General, whom he esteemed and loved, informed him of what had occurred, and persuaded him to decide on the attack. About eight or nine in the evening, when all the preparations were completed, and just as the attack was about to commence, a change took place in the state of affairs, and the Representatives countermanded the attack. Dugommier, however, still influenced by the commandant of artillery, persisted: had he failed, he must have forfeited his head. Such was the course of affairs and the justice of the times.

The notes which the committees of Paris found in the office of the artillery department, respecting Napoleon, first called their attention to his conduct at the siege of Toulon. They saw that, in spite of his youth and the inferiority of his rank, as soon as he appeared there, he was master.—This was the natural effect of the ascendancy of knowledge, activity, and energy, over the ignorance and confusion of the moment. He was, in fact, the conqueror of Toulon, and yet he is scarcely named in the official despatches. He was in possession of the town before the army had scarcely dreamt of it. After taking Little Gibraltar, which he always looked upon as the key of the whole enterprise, he said to old Dugommier, who was worn out with fatigue,—“Go and rest yourself—we have taken Toulon—you may sleep there the day after to-morrow.” When Dugommier found the thing actually accomplished—when he reflected that the young commandant of artillery had always foretold exactly what would happen, he became all enthusiasm and admiration; he was never tired of praising him. It is perfectly true, as some of the publications of the period relate, that Dugommier informed the Committees of Paris that he had with him a young man who merited particular notice; for that, whichever side he might adopt, he was certainly destined to throw great weight into the balance. When Dugommier joined the Army of the Eastern Pyrenees, he wished to take with him the young commandant of artillery; but this he was unable to do. He, however, spoke of him incessantly: and, at a subsequent period, when this same army was, on the conclusion of peace with Spain, sent to re-inforce the army of Italy, of which Napoleon soon after became general-in-chief, he found on his arrival, that in consequence of all Dugommier had said of him, the officers had, to use his own expression, scarcely eyes enough to look at him.

With regard to Napoleon, his success at Toulon did not much astonish him; he enjoyed it, he says, with a lively satisfaction, unmingled with surprise. He was equally happy the following year at Saorgio, where his operations were admirable: he accomplished in a few days what had been attempted in vain for two years. “Vendemiaire, and even Montenotte,” said the Emperor, “never induced me to look upon myself as a man of a superior class; it was not till after Lodi that I was struck with the possibility of my becoming a decisive actor on the scene of political events. It was then that the first spark of my ambition was kindled.” He, however, mentioned that, subsequently to Vendemiaire, during his command of the Army of the Interior, he drew up the plan of a campaign which was to terminate by a treaty of peace on the summit of the Simmering, which plan he shortly afterwards carried into execution at Leoben. It is, perhaps, still to be found in the official archives. The well-known fury of the times was still farther increased under the walls of Toulon, by the assembling of two hundred deputies from the neighbouring popular associations, who had proceeded thither for the purpose of instigating the most atrocious measures. To them must be attributed the excesses which were then committed, and of which the whole army complained. When Napoleon afterwards rose to distinction, attempts were made to throw the odium of these atrocities on him. “It would be a degradation,” said the Emperor, “to think of replying to such calumnies.”

As soon as Napoleon took the command of the artillery at Toulon, he availed himself of the necessity of circumstances to procure the return of many of his old companions, who had, at first, left the service on account of their birth or political principles. He obtained the appointment of Col. Gassendi to the command of the arsenal of Marseilles. The obstinacy and severity of this man are well known: they frequently placed him in danger: it more than once required all Napoleon’s vigilance and care to save him from the effects of the irritation which his conduct excited.

The ascendancy which Napoleon had acquired, through his services, in the port and arsenal of Toulon, afforded him the means of saving several unfortunate members of the emigrant family of Chabriant, or Chabrillan, who had been overtaken by storms at sea, and driven on the French shore. They were about to be put to death, for the law was decisive against emigrants who might return to France. They urged, in their defence, that their return had been purely the effect of accident, and was contrary to their own wishes; the only favour they solicited was to be permitted to depart; but all was vain: they would have perished, had not the Commandant of the Artillery hazarded his own safety, and procured for them a covered boat, which he sent off from the French coast under the pretence of business relative to his department. During the reign of Napoleon, these individuals took an opportunity of expressing their gratitude to him, and informing him that they had carefully preserved the order which saved their lives.

Napoleon was himself, at various times, exposed to the fury of revolutionary assassins.—Whenever he established a new battery, the numerous patriotic deputations, who were at the camp, solicited the honour of having it named after them. Napoleon named one ‘the battery of the Patriots of the South:’ this was a sufficient ground for his being denounced and accused of federalism; and had he been a less useful person, he would have been put under arrest, or, in other words, he would have been sacrificed. In short, language is inadequate to describe the frenzy and horror of the times. For instance, the Emperor told us that, while engaged in fortifying the coasts at Marseilles, he was a witness to the horrible condemnation of the merchant Hugues, a man of eighty-four years of age, deaf and nearly blind. In spite of his age and infirmities, his atrocious executioners pronounced him guilty of conspiracy: his real crime was his being worth eighteen millions. This he was himself aware of, and he offered to surrender his wealth to the tribunal, provided he might be allowed to retain five hundred thousand francs, which, he said, he should not live long to enjoy. But this proposition was rejected, and his head was cut off. “At this sight,” said Napoleon, “I thought the world was at an end!” an expression he was accustomed to employ on any extraordinary occasion. Barras and FrÉron were the authors of these atrocities. The Emperor did Robespierre the justice to say that he had seen long letters written by him to his brother, Robespierre the younger, who was then a representative with the army of the South, in which he warmly opposed and disclaimed these excesses, declaring that they would disgrace and ruin the Revolution.

Napoleon, when at Toulon, formed friendships with many individuals, who subsequently became very celebrated. He distinguished in the train a young officer, whose talents he had at first much difficulty in cultivating, but from whom he afterwards derived the greatest services: this was Duroc, who, with a very unprepossessing person, was endowed with talent of the most solid and useful kind: he loved the Emperor for himself, was devoted to his interests, and at the same time knew how to tell him the truth at proper seasons. He was afterwards created Duke de Frioul and Grand Marshal of the Palace. He placed the Imperial household on an excellent footing, and preserved the most perfect order. At his death, the Emperor thought he had sustained an irreparable loss, and many other persons were of the same opinion. The Emperor told me that Duroc was the only man who had possessed his intimacy and entire confidence.

During the erection of one of the first batteries which Napoleon, on his arrival at Toulon, directed against the English, he asked whether there was a serjeant, or corporal, present who could write. A man advanced from the ranks, and wrote by his dictation on the epaulement. The note was scarcely ended, when a cannon ball which had been fired in the direction of the battery, fell near the spot, and the paper was immediately covered by the loose earth thrown up by the ball. “Well,” said the writer, “I shall have no need of sand.” This remark, together with the coolness with which it was made, fixed the attention of Napoleon, and made the fortune of the serjeant. This man was Junot, afterwards Duke of Abrantes, colonel-general of the Hussars, commandant in Portugal, and governor-general in Illyria, where he evinced signs of mental alienation, which increased on his return to France, where he wounded himself in a horrible way. He died the victim of the intemperance which destroyed both his health and his reason.

Napoleon, on being created General of Artillery, and Commandant of that department in the Army of Italy, carried thither all the superiority and influence which he had acquired before Toulon; still, however, he experienced reverses, and even dangers. He was put under arrest for a short time at Nice, by the representative Laporte, because he refused to crouch to his authority. Another representative pronounced sentence of outlawry upon him, because he would not suffer him to employ all his artillery-horses for the posting service. Finally, a decree, which was never executed, summoned him to the bar of the Convention, for having proposed certain military measures relative to the fortifications at Marseilles.

When attached to the Army of Nice or of Italy, he became a great favourite with the representative Robespierre the younger, whom he described as possessing qualities very different from his brother: the latter Napoleon never saw. Robespierre the younger, on being recalled to Paris by his brother, some time before the 9th of Thermidor, exerted every endeavour to prevail on Napoleon to accompany him. “If I had not firmly resisted,” observed the Emperor, “who knows whither this first step might have led me, and for what a different destiny I might have been reserved?”

At the Army of Nice, there was another Representative, an insignificant man. His wife, who was an extremely pretty and fascinating woman, shared and even usurped his authority; she was a native of Versailles. Both husband and wife paid great attention to the General of artillery; they became extremely fond of him, and treated him in the handsomest manner. This was a great advantage to the young General, for, at that time, during the absence or the inefficiency of the laws, a representative of the people was a man of immense power.

The individual here alluded to was one of those who, in the Convention, most contributed to bring Napoleon into notice, at the crisis of Vendemiaire: this was the natural consequence of the deep impressions produced by the character and capacity of the young General.

The Emperor relates that, after he had ascended the throne, he again saw his old acquaintance the fair representative of Nice. She was so much altered as to be scarcely recognisable; her husband was dead, and she was reduced to extreme indigence. The Emperor readily granted every thing she solicited: “He realized,” he said, “all her dreams, and even went beyond them.” Although she lived at Versailles, many years had elapsed before she succeeded in gaining access to him. Letters, petitions, solicitations of every description had proved unavailing: “So difficult it is,” said the Emperor, “to reach the sovereign, even when he does not wish to deny himself.” At length, one day when he was on a hunting excursion at Versailles, Napoleon happened to mention this lady to Berthier, who was also a native of that place, and had known her in her youth; and he, who had never yet deigned to mention her, and still less to regard her petitions, on the following day presented her to the sovereign. “But why did you not get introduced to me through our mutual acquaintances in the Army of Nice?” inquired the Emperor: “many of them are now great men, and are on a constant footing of intimacy with me.” “Alas! sire,” replied she, “our acquaintance ceased when they became great, and I was overtaken by misfortune.”

The Emperor one day communicated to me some details respecting this old friendship:—“I was,” said he, “very young when I first knew this lady; I was proud of the favourable impression I had made on her, and seized every opportunity of shewing her all the attention in my power. I will mention one circumstance, to shew how authority is sometimes abused, and on what men’s fate may depend: for I am no worse than the rest. I was walking one day with the Representative’s wife, inspecting our positions in the vicinity of the Col di Tende, when I suddenly took it into my head to give her an idea of an engagement, and, for this purpose, ordered the attack of an advanced post. We were conquerors, it is true; but the affair could be attended by no advantage. The attack was a mere whim, and yet it cost the lives of several men. I have never failed to reproach myself whenever I look back on this affair.”

The events of Thermidor having produced a change in the Committees of the Convention, Aubry, formerly a captain of artillery, was appointed to direct the Committee of War, and he re-modelled the army. He did not forget himself; he promoted himself to the rank of general of artillery, and favoured several of his old comrades, to the injury of the inferior officers, whom he dismissed. Napoleon, who was at this time scarcely twenty-five years of age, became a general of infantry, and he was chosen for the service of La VendÉe. This circumstance induced him to quit the Army of Italy, in order to protest earnestly against the change, which, on every account, was unsatisfactory to him. Finding Aubry inflexible, and even offended at his just representations, he gave in his resignation. Only a short time elapsed before he was again employed in the Topographical Committee, by which the movements of the army and the plans of the campaigns were arranged: he was thus engaged at the period of the 13th of Vendemiaire.

Napoleon’s expostulation with Aubry on the subject of his new appointment formed a perfect scene: he insisted vehemently, because he had facts to bear him out; Aubry was obstinate and bitter, because he had power in his hands. He told Napoleon that he was too young, and that he must let older men go before him; Napoleon replied that a soldier soon grew old on the field of battle, and that he had just come from it. Aubry had never been in any engagement. They came to very high words.

I informed the Emperor that, on returning from my emigration, I occupied for a considerable time, in the Rue Saint Florentin, the identical apartment in which this scene took place. I had frequently heard it spoken of; and though it was described by unfriendly tongues, each, nevertheless, took great interest in relating the details, and in trying to guess the part of the room in which any particular gesture was made, or any remarkable word spoken.

The history of the famous day of Vendemiaire, which had so important an influence on the fate of the Revolution and of Napoleon, will shew that he hesitated for some time before he undertook the defence of the Convention.

On the night succeeding that day, Napoleon presented himself to the Committee of Forty, which was established at the Tuileries. He wanted to procure mortars and ammunition from Meudon; but such was the circumspection of the President (CambacÉres) that, in spite of the dangers which had marked the day, he refused to sign the order; and merely, by way of accommodating the matter, requested that the guns and ammunition might be placed at the disposal of the General.

During his command of Paris, subsequently to the 13th of Vendemiaire, Napoleon had to encounter a great scarcity, which occasioned several popular commotions. One day when the usual distribution had not taken place, crowds of people collected round the bakers’ shops. Napoleon was parading about the city with a party of his staff to preserve public tranquillity. A crowd of persons, chiefly women, assembled round him, loudly calling for bread. The crowd augmented, the outcries increased, and the situation of Napoleon and his officers became critical. A woman, of monstrous size and corpulence, was particularly conspicuous by her gestures and exclamations. “Those fine epauletted fellows,” said she, pointing to the officers, “laugh at our distress: so long as they can eat and grow fat, they care not if the poor people die of hunger.” Napoleon turned to her, and said, “Good woman, look at me; which is fatter, you or I?” Napoleon was at that time extremely thin: “I was a mere slip of parchment,” said he. A general burst of laughter disarmed the fury of the populace, and the staff-officers continued their round.

The narrative of the thirteenth of Vendemiaire shews how Napoleon became acquainted with Madame de Beauharnais, and how he contracted the marriage which has been so greatly misrepresented in the accounts of the time. As soon as he got introduced to Madame de Beauharnais, he spent almost every evening at her house, which was frequented by the most agreeable company in Paris. When the majority of the party retired, there usually remained M. de Montesquiou, the father of the Grand Chamberlain; the Duke de Nivernois, so celebrated for the graces of his wit; and a few others. They used to look round to see that the doors were all shut, and they would then say, “Let us sit down and chat about the old court; let us make a tour to Versailles.”

The poverty of the treasury and the scarcity of specie were so great, during the Republic, that, on the departure of General Buonaparte for the army of Italy, all his efforts, joined to those of the Directory, could only succeed in raising 2000 louis, which he carried with him in his carriage. With this sum he set out to conquer Italy, and to march towards the empire of the world. The following is a curious fact: an order of the day was published, signed Berthier, directing the General-in-chief, on his arrival at the head-quarters at Nice, to distribute to the different generals, to enable them to enter on the campaign, the sum of four louis in specie. For a considerable time no such thing as specie had been seen. This order of the day displays the circumstances of the times more truly and faithfully than whole volumes written on the subject.

As soon as Napoleon joined the army, he proved himself to be a man born for command. From that moment he filled the theatre of the world;^[17] he occupied all Europe; he was a meteor blazing in the firmament; he concentrated all attention, riveted all thoughts, and formed the subject of all conversations. From that time every Gazette, every publication, every monument, became the record of his deeds. His name was inscribed in every page and in every line, and echoed from every mouth.

On his appearance in the command, a total revolution was observed in his manners, conduct, and language. DecrÈs has often told me that he was at Toulon when he first heard of Napoleon’s appointment to the command of the army of Italy. He had known him well in Paris, and thought himself on terms of perfect familiarity with him. “Thus,” said he, “when we learned that the new General was about to pass through the city, I immediately proposed to all my comrades to introduce them to him, priding myself on my intimacy with him. I hastened to him, full of eagerness and joy; the door of the apartment was thrown open, and I was on the point of rushing towards him with my wonted familiarity, but his attitude, his look, the tone of his voice, suddenly deterred me. There was nothing offensive either in his appearance or manner; but the impression he produced was sufficient to prevent me from ever again attempting to encroach upon the distance that separated us.”

Napoleon’s generalship was, moreover, characterized by the skill, energy, and purity of his military administration; his constant hatred of peculation of any kind, and his total disregard of his own private interest. “When I returned from the campaign of Italy,” said he, “I had not 300,000 francs in my possession. I might easily have brought back 10 or 12 millions; that sum might have been mine. I never made out any accounts, nor was I ever asked for any. I expected on my return to receive some great national reward. It was publicly reported that Chambord was to be given to me, and I should have been very glad to have had it: but the idea was set aside by the Directory. I had, however, transmitted to France at least 50,000,000 for the service of the State. This I imagine, was the first instance in modern history of an army contributing to maintain the country to which it belonged, instead of being a burthen on it.”

When Napoleon was in treaty with the Duke de Modena, Salicetti, the Government Commissary with the army, who had hitherto been on indifferent terms with him, entered his cabinet.—“The Commander d’Este,” said he, “the Duke’s brother, is here with four millions in gold, contained in four chests. He comes in the name of his brother to beg of you to accept them, and I advise you to do so. I am a countryman of yours, and I know your family affairs. The Directory and the Legislative Body will never acknowledge your services. This money belongs to you; take it without scruple and without publicity. A proportionate diminution will be made in the Duke’s contribution, and he will be very glad to have gained a protector.”—“I thank you,” coolly answered Napoleon: “I shall not for that sum place myself in the power of the Duke de Modena:—I wish to continue free.”

A Commissary-in-chief of the same army used often to relate that he had witnessed an offer of seven millions in gold made in a like manner to Napoleon by the Government of Venice, to save it from destruction, which offer was refused.—The Emperor smiled at the transports of admiration evinced by this financier, to whom the refusal of his General appeared super-human—an action much more difficult and noble than the gaining of victories. The Emperor dwelt with a certain degree of complacency on these anecdotes of his disinterestedness. He however observed that he had been in the wrong, and that such a course of conduct was the most improvident he could have pursued, whether his intention had been to make himself the head of a party, and to acquire influence, or to remain in the station of a private individual; for, on his return, he found himself almost destitute: and he might have continued in a career of absolute poverty, while his inferior generals and commissaries were amassing large fortunes. “But,” added he, “if my commissary had seen me accept the bribe, who can tell to what lengths he might have gone? My refusal was at least a check upon him.

“When I was placed at the head of affairs, as Consul, it was only by setting an example of disinterestedness, and employing the utmost vigilance, that I could succeed in changing the conduct of the Administration, and putting a stop to the dreadful spectacle of Directorial peculations. It cost me an immense deal of trouble to overcome the inclinations of the first persons in the State, whose conduct, under me, at length became strict and irreproachable. I was obliged to keep them constantly in fear. How often did I not repeat, in my councils, that if my own brother were found to be in fault, I should not hesitate to dismiss him!”

No man in the world ever had more wealth at his disposal, and appropriated less to himself.—Napoleon, according to his own account, possessed as much as four hundred millions of specie in the cellars of the Tuileries. His extraordinary domain amounted to more than seven hundred millions. He has said that he distributed upwards of five hundred millions in endowments to the army. And, what is very extraordinary, he who circulated such heaps of wealth, never possessed any private property of his own! He had collected, in the Museum, treasures which it was impossible to estimate, and yet he never had a picture or a curiosity of his own.

On his return from Italy, and on the eve of his departure for Egypt, he became possessed of Malmaison, and there he deposited nearly all his property. He purchased it in the name of his wife, who was older than himself, and consequently, in case of his surviving her, he must have forfeited all claim to it. The fact is, as he himself has said, that he never had a taste or a desire for riches.

“If I now possess any thing,”^[18] continued he, “it is owing to measures which have been adopted since my departure: but even in that case it depended on a hair’s-breadth chance whether there should be any thing in the world I might call my own or not. But every one has his relative ideas. I have a taste for founding, and not for possessing. My riches consisted in glory and celebrity: the Simplon and the Louvre were, in the eyes of the people and of foreigners, more my property than private domains could have been. I purchased diamonds for the crown, I repaired and adorned the Imperial palaces; and I could not help thinking sometimes that the expenses lavished by Josephine on her green-houses and her gallery were a real injury to my Jardin des Plantes and my MusÉe de Paris.”

On taking the command of the army of Italy, Napoleon, notwithstanding his extreme youth, immediately impressed the troops with a spirit of subordination, confidence, and the most absolute devotedness. The army was subdued by his genius, rather than seduced by his popularity: he was in general very severe and reserved. During the whole course of his life he has uniformly disdained to court the favour of the multitude by unworthy means; perhaps he has even carried this feeling to an extent which may have been injurious to him. A singular custom was established in the army of Italy, in consequence of the youth of the commander, or from some other cause.—After each battle, the eldest soldiers used to hold a council, and confer a new rank on their young General, who, when he made his appearance in the camp, was received by the veterans, and saluted with his new title. They made him a Corporal at Lodi, and a Serjeant at Castiglione; and hence the surname of “Petit Caporal,” which was for a long time applied to Napoleon by the soldiers. How subtle is the chain which unites the most trivial circumstances to the most important events! Perhaps this very nick-name contributed to his miraculous success on his return in 1815.—While he was haranguing the first battalion he met, which he found it necessary to parley with, a voice from the ranks exclaimed, “Vive notre petit Caporal!Caporal! we will never fight against him!”

The administration of the Directory, and that of the General-in-chief of the army of Italy, seemed two distinct Governments. The Directory in France put the emigrants to death: the army of Italy never inflicted capital punishment on any one of them. The Directory, on learning that Wurmser was besieged in Mantua, went so far as to write to Napoleon, to remind him that he was an emigrant; but Napoleon, on making him prisoner, eagerly sought to render an affecting homage of respect to his old age. The Directory adopted the most insulting forms in communicating with the Pope: the General of the army of Italy addressed him by the words “Most Holy Father,” and wrote to him with respect. The Directory endeavoured to overthrow the authority of the Pope: Napoleon preserved it. The Directory banished and proscribed Priests: Napoleon commanded his soldiers, wherever they might fall in with them, to remember that they were Frenchmen and their brothers. The Directory would have exterminated every vestige of aristocracy; Napoleon wrote to the democracy of Genoa, blaming their violence; and did not hesitate to declare that, if the Genoese attached any value to the preservation of his esteem, they must learn to respect the statue of Doria, and the institutions to which they were indebted for their glory.

THE EMPEROR DETERMINES TO WRITE
HIS MEMOIRS.

7th—9th. We continued our course, and nothing occurred to interrupt the uniformity which surrounded us. Our days were all alike; the correctness of my journal alone informed me of the day of the week or of the month. Fortunately my time was employed, and therefore the day usually slipped on with a certain degree of facility. The materials which I collected in the afternoon conversation employed me so as to leave no idle time until next day.

Meanwhile the Emperor observed that I was very much occupied, and he even suspected the subject on which I was engaged. He determined to ascertain the fact, and obtained sight of a few pages of my journal: he was not displeased with it. Having alluded several times to the subject, he observed that such a work would be interesting rather than useful. The military events, for example, thus detailed in the ordinary course of conversation, would be meagre, incomplete, and devoid of end or object: they would be mere anecdotes, frequently of the most puerile kind, instead of grand operations and results. I eagerly seized the favourable opportunity: I entirely concurred in his opinion, and ventured to suggest the idea of his dictating to me the campaigns of Italy. “It would,” I observed, “be a benefit to the country—a true monument of national glory. Our time is unemployed, our hours are tedious; occupation will help to divert us, and some moments may not be devoid of pleasure.” This idea became the subject of various conversations.

At length the Emperor came to a determination, and on Saturday, the 9th of September, he called me into his cabin, and dictated to me, for the first time, some details respecting the siege of Toulon.

TRADE-WIND.—THE LINE.

10th—13th. On approaching the Line, we met with what are called the trade winds, that is to say, winds blowing constantly from the east. Science explains this phenomenon in a way sufficiently satisfactory. When a vessel sailing from Europe first encounters these winds, they blow from the north-east; in proportion as the ship approaches the Line, the winds become more easterly. Calms are generally to be apprehended under the Line. When the Line is crossed, the winds gradually change to the south, until they blow in the direction of the south-east. At length, after passing the tropics, the trade-winds are lost, and variable winds are met with, as in our European regions. A ship sailing from Europe to St. Helena is always driven in a westerly direction by these constant easterly winds. It would be very difficult to gain that island by a direct course; and, indeed, this is never attempted. The ship stands away to the variable winds in the southern latitude, and then shapes her course towards the Cape of Good Hope, so as to fall in with the trade-winds from the south-east, which bring her, with the wind astern, to St. Helena.

Two different courses are taken to gain the variable winds of the southern latitudes; the one is to cross the Line about the 20th or 24th degree of longitude, reckoning from the meridian of London: those who prefer this course affirm that it is less exposed to the equatorial calms, and that, though it frequently has the disadvantage of carrying the vessel within sight of Brazil, yet it enables her to make that part of her voyage in a short time. Admiral Cockburn, who was inclined to regard this course as a prejudice and a routine, determined in favour of the second method, which consisted in steering more to the east; and, following particular examples with which he was acquainted, he endeavoured to cross the Line about the 2nd or 3rd degrees of longitude. He doubted not that, standing towards the variable winds, he should pass sufficiently near St. Helena to shorten his passage considerably, even if he should not succeed in reaching the island by tacking without leaving the trade-winds.

The winds, to our great astonishment, veered to the west, (a circumstance which the Admiral informed us was more common than we supposed) and this tended to favour his opinion. He abandoned the bad sailers of his squadron, in proportion as they lagged behind: and he determined on gaining the place of his destination with all possible speed.

A STORM.—EXAMINATION OF CERTAIN LIBELS UPON
THE EMPEROR.—GENERAL REFLECTIONS.

14th-18th. After a few slight gales and several calms, we had on the 16th a considerable fall of rain, to the great joy of the crew. The heat was very moderate; it may, indeed, be said that, with the exception of the storm at Madeira, we had uniformly enjoyed mild weather. But water was very scarce on board the ship; and, for the sake of economy, the crew took advantage of the opportunity of collecting the rain water, of which each sailor laid by a little store for his own use. The rain fell heavily just as the Emperor had got upon deck to take his afternoon walk. But this did not disappoint him of his usual exercise; he merely called for his famous grey great coat, which the English regarded with deep interest. The Grand Marshal and I attended the Emperor in his walk. The rain descended heavily for upwards of an hour; when the Emperor left the deck, I had great difficulty in stripping off my wet clothes; almost every thing I wore was soaked through.

For several succeeding days the weather continued very rainy; this somewhat impeded my labours, for the damp penetrated into our wretched little cabin; and on the other hand, it was not very agreeable to walk on deck. This was the first time during our passage that we had had any thing like a continuance of wet weather; and it quite disconcerted us. I filled up the intervals, between my hours of occupation, in conversing with the officers of the ship. I was not on intimate terms with any of them; but I kept up a daily intercourse of civility and politeness to them all. They loved to talk with us on French affairs, and their ignorance of all that concerned France and the French people was almost incredible. We excited mutual astonishment in each other: they surprised us by their degenerate political principles, and we astonished them by our new ideas and manners, of which they had previously formed no conception. They certainly knew infinitely less of France than of China.

One of the principal officers of the ship, in a familiar conversation, happened to say—“I suppose you would be very much alarmed if we were to land you on the coast of France?”—“Why so?” I enquired.—“Because,” replied he, “the King would perhaps make you pay dearly for having left your country to follow another Sovereign; and also because you wear a cockade which he has prohibited.”—“And is this language becoming an Englishman?” observed I. “You must be degenerate indeed! You are, it is true, far removed from the period of your revolution, to which you so justly apply the epithet glorious. But we, who are nearer to ours, by which we have gained so much, may tell you that every word you say is heresy. In the first place, our punishment depends not on the King’s pleasure; we are subject only to the law. Now, there exists no law against us; and if any law were to be violated for the purpose of applying to our case, it would be your duty to protect us. Your general has pledged himself to do so by the capitulation of Paris; and it would be an eternal disgrace to the English Ministry were they to permit the sacrifice of lives which their public faith had solemnly guaranteed.

“In the next place, we are not following another sovereign. That the Emperor Napoleon was our sovereign is an undeniable fact; but he has abdicated, and his reign is at an end. You are confounding private actions with party measures; love and devotedness, with political opinions. Finally, with regard to our colours, which seem to have dazzled you so much, they are but a remnant of our old costume. We wear them to-day, only because we wore them yesterday. One cannot with indifference lay aside things to which one is attached; that can only be done from constraint or necessity. Why did you not deprive us of our colours when you deprived us of our arms?—the one act would have been as reasonable as the other. We are here only as private men; we do not preach sedition. We cannot deny that these colours are dear to us: we are attached to them because they have seen us victorious over all our enemies; because we have paraded them in triumph through every capital in Europe; and because we wore them while we were the first nation in the world.”

On another occasion, one of the officers, after glancing at the extraordinary vicissitude of recent events, said—“Who knows whether we may not yet be destined to repair the misfortunes which we have occasioned to you? What would be your astonishment if Wellington should one day conduct Napoleon back to Paris?”—“I should be astonished indeed,” I replied: “but I should certainly decline the honour of being one of the party: at such a price, I would not hesitate to abandon Napoleon himself! But I may rest easy on that score; for I can swear Napoleon will never put me to such a trial. It is from him I imbibe these sentiments: it was he who cured me of the contrary doctrine, which I call the error of my youth.”

The English were very fond of asking us questions concerning the Emperor, whose character and disposition, as they afterwards avowed, had been represented to them in the falsest colours. It was not their fault, they observed, if they formed an erroneous estimate of his character: they knew him only through the works published in England, which were all greatly exaggerated, and much to his prejudice: they had several of these publications on board the ship.—One day I happened to cast my eyes on one of a most malignant character: on another occasion, when I was about to look at a book which one of the officers was reading, he suddenly closed it, observing it was so violent against the Emperor that he could not prevail on himself to let me see it. Another time, the Admiral questioned me respecting certain imputations contained in different works in his library, some of which he said enjoyed a degree of credit, while all had produced a great sensation, in England. This circumstance suggested to me the idea of successively examining all the works of this kind that were on board the ship, in order to note down my opinion of them in my journal—conceiving that so favourable an opportunity might never again occur of obtaining, if I chose, information on those points which it might be worth while to enquire into.

Before I commence my review of these works, I must beg to offer a few general remarks: they will suffice to answer by anticipation many of the numberless accusations that will fall in my way. Calumny and falsehood are the arms of the civil or political, the foreign or domestic enemy. They are the resource of the vanquished and the feeble, of those who are governed by hatred or fear.—They are the food of the drawing-room, and the garbage of the public place: they rage with the greater fury in proportion as their object is exalted: there is nothing which they will not venture to promulgate. The more absurd, ridiculous, and incredible calumnies and falsehoods may be, the more eagerly are they received and repeated from mouth to mouth. Triumph and success are but fresh causes of irritation: a moral storm will invariably gather; and, bursting in the moment of adversity, it will precipitate and complete the fall, and become the immense lever of public opinion.

No man was ever so much assailed and abused as Napoleon. No individual was ever the subject of so many pamphlets, libels, atrocious and absurd stories and false assertions. Nor could it be otherwise. Napoleon, risen from the common rank of life to supreme distinction; advancing at the head of a revolution which he himself had civilized; plunged by these two circumstances into a deadly contest with the rest of Europe—a contest in which he was subdued only because he wished to terminate it too speedily—Napoleon uniting in himself the genius, the force, the destiny of his own power, the conqueror of his neighbours, and, in some measure, a universal Monarch—a Marius in the eyes of the aristocrats of Europe, a Sylla for the demagogues, a CÆsar for the republicans—could not but raise against himself a hurricane of passions both at home and abroad.

Despair, policy, and fury, in every country, painted him as an object of detestation and alarm. Thus, all that has been said against him can excite no astonishment: it is only surprising that more calumny has not been uttered, and that it has not produced a much greater effect. When in the enjoyment of his power, he never would permit any one to reply to the attacks that were made upon him. “The pains bestowed on such answers,” said he, “would only have given additional weight to the accusations they were intended to refute. It would have been said that all that was written in my defence was ordered and paid for. The ill-managed praise of those by whom I was surrounded had already, in some instances, been more prejudicial to me than all the abuse of which I was the object. Facts were the most convincing answers. A fine monument, another good law, or a new triumph, were sufficient to defeat thousands of such falsehoods. Declamation passes away, but deeds remain!”

This is unquestionably true with regard to posterity. The great men of former times are handed down to us free from the ephemeral accusations of their contemporaries. But it is not thus during the lifetime of the individual; and, in 1814, Napoleon was convinced by cruel experience that even deeds may vanish before the fury of declamation. At the moment of his fall, he was absolutely overwhelmed by a torrent of abuse. But it was reserved for him, whose life had been so fertile in prodigies, to surmount this adverse stroke of fate, and almost immediately to arise resplendent from amidst his own ruins. His miraculous return is certainly unparalleled both in its execution and its results. The transports which it called forth penetrated into neighbouring countries, where prayers for his success were offered up either publicly or in secret; and he who, in 1814, was defeated and pursued as the scourge of human nature, suddenly re-appeared in 1815 as the hope of his fellow-creatures.

Calumny and falsehood in this instance lost their prey by having overshot their mark. The good sense of mankind in a great measure rendered justice to Napoleon, and the abuse that had been heaped upon him would not be believed now. “Poison lost its effect on Mithridates,” said the Emperor, as he was the other day glancing over some new libels upon himself, “and, since 1814, calumny cannot injure me.”

In the universal clamour which was directed against him when in the enjoyment of his power, England bore the most conspicuous part.

In England two great machines were maintained in full activity; the one conducted by the emigrants, for whom nothing was too bad; and the other under the control of the English ministers, who had established a system of defamation, and who had regularly organized its action and effects. They maintained in their pay pamphleteers and libelists in every corner of Europe; their tasks were marked out to them: and their plans of attack were regularly laid and combined.

The English ministry multiplied the employment of these potent engines in England more than elsewhere. The English, who were more free and enlightened than other nations, stood the more in need of excitement. From this system the English ministers derived the two-fold advantage of rousing public opinion against the common enemy, and withdrawing attention from their own conduct by directing popular clamour and indignation to the character and conduct of others: by this means their own character and conduct were screened from that investigation and recrimination which they might not have found very agreeable. Thus the assassination of Paul at St. Petersburgh, and of our envoys in Persia; the seizure of Napper-Tandy in the free city of Hamburgh; the capture, in time of peace, of two rich Spanish frigates; the acquisition of the whole of India; the retaining of Malta and the Cape of Good Hope, against the faith of treaties: the Machiavelian rupture of the treaty of Amiens; the unjust seizure of our ships previously to a new declaration of war: the Danish fleet seized with such cold and ironical perfidy, &c. &c.; all these aggressions were overlooked in the general agitation which had been artfully stirred up against a foreign power.

In order to take a just view of the accusations which have been heaped upon Napoleon, by the numerous publications written against him, it is necessary to make allowance for passions and circumstances; to reject with contempt all that is apocryphal, anonymous, and purely declamatory; and to adhere solely to the facts and proofs which would doubtless have been produced by those who, after the overthrow of their enemy, became possessed of the authentic documents, the archives of the public departments and courts of law, in short, of all the sources of truth which are usually to be found in society. But nothing has been published; nothing has been brought forward; and, therefore, how much of this monstrous scaffolding falls to the ground. And to be still more rigidly equitable, if we wish to judge Napoleon by the example of his peers, or great men in analogous circumstances; that is to say, by comparing him with the founders of dynasties, or those who have ascended thrones by dint of popular commotions, it may then confidently be said that he is unequalled, and that he shines purely from amidst all that is opposed to him. It would be a loss of time to cite the numberless examples furnished by ancient and modern history: they are accessible to every one. It is only necessary to refer to the two countries which are here under consideration.

Did Napoleon, like Hugues Capet, fight against his sovereign? Did he cause him to perish in captivity?

Did Napoleon act like the princes of the present house of Brunswick, who, in 1715 and 1745, crowded the scaffold with victims—victims to whom the present English ministers, through their inconsequential policy and the principles they now profess, leave no other title than that of faithful subjects dying for their lawful sovereign?

The course by which Napoleon advanced to supreme power is perfectly simple and natural; it is single in history; the very circumstances of his elevation render it unparalleled. “I did not usurp the crown,” said he one day to the Council of State, “I took it up out of the mire; the people placed it on my head: let their acts be respected!”

And by thus taking up the crown, Napoleon restored France to her rank in European society, terminated her horrors, and revived her character. He freed us of all the evils of our fatal crisis, and reserved to us all the advantages arising out of it. “I ascended the throne unsullied by any of the crimes of my situation,” said he, on one occasion. “How few founders of dynasties can say as much!”

Never, during any period of our history, were favours distributed with so much impartiality; never was merit so indiscriminately sought out and rewarded; public money so usefully employed; the arts and sciences better encouraged, or the glory and lustre of the country raised to so high a pitch. “It is my wish,” said he one day to the Council of State, “that the title of Frenchman should be the best and most desirable on earth; that a Frenchman travelling through any part of Europe may think and find himself at home.”

If liberty seemed occasionally to suffer encroachments, if authority seemed sometimes to overstep its limits, circumstances rendered those measures necessary and inevitable. Our present misfortunes have, though too late, made us sensible of this truth; we now render justice, though also too late, to the courage, judgment, and foresight which then dictated those steps. It is certain that in this respect the political fall of Napoleon has considerably increased his influence. Who can now doubt that his glory and the lustre of his character have been infinitely augmented by his misfortunes?

If the works which have fallen in my way should present any circumstances connected with these general considerations, they will be the object of my particular attention. I do not intend to enter upon a political controversy; I shall not address myself to party men, whose opinions are founded on their interests and passions; I speak only to the cool friend of truth, or to the unprejudiced writer, who in future times may impartially seek for materials: to them alone I address myself; in their eyes my testimony will be superior to anonymous evidence, and will rank with that which bears a credible character.

The first work that I looked into was the Anti-Gallican, of which I shall speak hereafter.

EMPLOYMENT OF OUR TIME.

19th-22nd. We continued our course with the same wind, the same sky, and the same temperature. Our voyage was monotonous, but pleasant; our days were long, but employment helped them to glide away. The Emperor now began regularly to dictate to me his Campaigns of Italy. I had already written several chapters. For the first few days, the Emperor viewed this occupation with indifference; but the regularity and promptitude with which I presented to him my daily task, together with the progress we made, soon excited his interest, and at length the pleasure he derived from this dictation rendered it absolutely necessary to him. He was sure to send for me about eleven o’clock every morning, and he seemed himself to await the hour with impatience. I always read to him what he had dictated on the preceding day, and he then made corrections and dictated farther. In this way the time passed rapidly till four o’clock arrived, when he summoned his valet-de-chambre. He then proceeded to the state-cabin, and passed the time until dinner in playing at piquet or chess.

The Emperor dictates very rapidly, almost as fast as he speaks in ordinary conversation. I was therefore obliged to invent a kind of hieroglyphic writing: and I, in my turn, dictated to my son. I was happy enough to be able to collect almost literally every sentence that fell from him. I had now not a moment to spare; at dinner time somebody was sure to come and tell me that all the company were seated at table. Fortunately my seat was near the door, which always stood open. I had some time since changed my place at the request of Captain Ross, the commander of the vessel, who, as he did not speak French, took the opportunity of occasionally asking me the meaning of words: I therefore took my seat between him and the Grand Marshal. Captain Ross was a man of agreeable manners, and was exceedingly kind and attentive to us. I had learnt, according to the English custom, to invite him to take a glass of wine, drinking mine to the health of his wife, and he would then drink to the health of mine. This was our daily practice.

After dinner, the Emperor never failed to allude to his morning dictation, as if pleased with the occupation and amusement it had afforded him. On these occasions, as well as whenever I happened to meet him in the course of the day, he would address me in a jocular tone with: “Ah! sage Las Cases!—Illustrious memorialist!—the Sully of St. Helena;” and other similar expressions. Then he would frequently add: “My dear Las Cases, these Memoirs will be as celebrated as any that have preceded them. You will survive as long as any previous memoir-writer. It will be impossible to dwell upon the great events of our time, or to write about me, without referring to you.” Then resuming his pleasantry, he would add: “After all, it will be said, he must have known Napoleon well; he was his Councillor of State, his Chamberlain, his faithful companion. We cannot help believing him, for he was an honest man and incapable of misrepresentation.”

ACCIDENTAL PHENOMENON.—PASSAGE OF THE LINE.—CHRISTENING.

23rd–25th. The West wind still continued, to our great astonishment; it was a sort of phenomenon in these regions, and had hitherto been very much in our favour. But, with regard to phenomena, chance produced one of a much more extraordinary kind on the 23rd, when we crossed the Line in 0° latitude 0° longitude, and 0° declination. This is a circumstance which chance alone may perhaps renew only once in a century, since it is necessary to arrive precisely at the first meridian about noon, in order to pass the Line at that same hour, and to arrive there at the same time with the sun.

This was a day of great merriment and disorder among the crew: it was the ceremony which our sailors call the Christening, and which the English call the great Shaving day. The sailors dress themselves up in the most grotesque way; one is disguised as Neptune, and all persons on board the ship who have not previously crossed the Line, are formally presented to him; an immense razor is passed over their chins, with a lather made of pitch; buckets of water are thrown over them, and the loud bursts of laughter which accompany their retreat complete their initiation into the grand mystery. No one is spared; and the officers are generally more roughly used than the lowest of the sailors. The Admiral, who had previously amused himself by endeavouring to alarm us with the anticipation of this awful ceremony, now very courteously exempted us from the inconvenience and ridicule attending it. We were, with every mark of attention and respect, presented to the rude god, who paid to each of us a compliment after his own fashion: and thus our trial ended.

The Emperor was scrupulously respected during the whole of this Saturnalian festivity, when respect is usually shewn to no one. On being informed of the decorum which had been observed with respect to him, he ordered a hundred Napoleons to be distributed to the grotesque Neptune and his crew, which the Admiral opposed, perhaps from motives of prudence as well as politeness.

EXAMINATION OF THE ANTI-GALLICAN.—SIR ROBERT WILSON’S WRITINGS.—PLAGUE AT JAFFA.—ANECDOTES OF THE FRENCH ARMY IN EGYPT.—FEELINGS OF THE ARMY IN THE EGYPTIAN CAMPAIGN.—BERTHIER.—JESTS OF THE SOLDIERY.—DROMEDARIES.—DEATH OF KLEBER.—THE YOUNG ARAB.—SINGULAR COINCIDENCES RESPECTING PHILIPEAUX AND NAPOLEON.—CIRCUMSTANCES ON WHICH THE FATE OF INDIVIDUALS DEPENDS.—CAFFARELLI’S ATTACHMENT TO NAPOLEON.—REPUTATION OF THE FRENCH ARMY IN THE EAST.—NAPOLEON QUITTING EGYPT TO ASSUME THE GOVERNMENT OF FRANCE.—THE ENGLISH EXPEDITION.—KLEBER AND DESAIX.

26th—30th. The weather still continued favourable. Having passed the Line, we momentarily expected to fall in with an east or south-east wind. The continuance of the west wind was extraordinary, and it was impossible it could last much longer. The resolution which the Admiral had adopted of bearing considerably to the east rendered our situation very favourable, and we had every reason to hope for a short passage.

One afternoon, the sailors caught an enormous shark. The Emperor enquired the cause of the great noise and confusion which he suddenly heard overhead; being informed of what had occurred, he expressed a wish to have a sight of the sea-monster. He accordingly went up to the poop, and incautiously approached too near the animal, which by a sudden movement knocked down four or five of the sailors, and had well nigh broken the Emperor’s legs. He went below with his left stocking covered with blood: we thought he was severely hurt, but it proved to be only the blood of the shark.

My labours advanced with the greatest regularity. The Anti-Gallican, which was the first work I undertook to read, was a volume of five hundred pages, comprising all that had been written in England at the time when that country was menaced with the French invasion. It was the object of the English government to nationalize opposition to that attempt, and to rouse the whole nation against her dangerous enemy. The book contained a collection of public speeches, exhortations, patriotic appeals of zealous citizens, satirical songs, sarcastic productions, and highly-coloured newspaper articles, all pouring a torrent of odium and ridicule upon the French and their First Consul, whose courage, genius, and power excited the greatest alarm. This was all perfectly natural and allowable. Productions of this sort are like a shower of arrows thrown by combatants before they come to a close action: some hit, and some are carried away by the wind. Such writings will never afford satisfactory evidence to a man of judgment, and they scarcely merit contradiction.

Pamphleteers are little regarded, because their character is the antidote of their poison: it is not so with the historian. The latter, however, degrades himself to a level with the pamphlet-writer when he departs from the calm dignity and impartiality required for his office, to indulge in declamation and to steep his pen in gall.

With these feelings I arose from the perusal of the different productions of Sir Robert Wilson, which I read after the Anti-Gallican. This writer did us the greater injury, because his talents, his courage, and his numerous and brilliant services, gave him importance in the eyes of his countrymen. A circumstance which I am about to state caused the writings of Sir R. Wilson to be particularly known and spoken of on board the ship.

Sir Robert had a son among the young midshipmen on board the Northumberland, and my son, whose similarity of age occasioned him to be much in the society of these youths, could easily observe the change which took place in their opinions with respect to us. They were at first very much prejudiced against us. When the Emperor came on board, they regarded him as an ogre ready to devour them. But on a better acquaintance with us, truth soon exercised over them the same influence which it produced on the rest of the crew. This was, however, at the expense of young Wilson, who was scouted by his companions, by way of expiation, as they said, for the stories which his father had circulated.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... .

At this part of the manuscript a great number of pages are struck out; the reason was explained, on the margin, as follows:

“I had collected numerous offensive statements from the writings of Sir Robert Wilson, to which I had perhaps replied with too much bitterness: a recent circumstance has induced me to suppress this portion of my journal.

“Sir Robert Wilson has lately acted a conspicuous part in a cause which does honour to the hearts of all who were concerned in it: I allude to the saving of Lavalette. Being asked, before a French tribunal, whether he had not formerly published works respecting our affairs? he replied in the affirmative, and added that he had stated in them what he then believed to be true. These words are more to the purpose than any thing I could say; and I therefore hasten to cancel what I have already written; happy in thus having an opportunity to render justice to Sir Robert Wilson, on whose sincerity and good intentions I had, in my indignation, cast reflections.”^[19]

I therefore set aside the works of Sir Robert Wilson, and the various accusations contained in them; I also suppress the numerous refutations I had collected. I shall merely stop to consider one circumstance which has been repeated in a hundred different works; the report of which has been circulated through Europe, and has obtained credit even in France. I allude to the poisoning of the men infected with the plague at Jaffa.

Certainly nothing can more clearly prove how easily calumny may effect its object. If the voice of slander be bold and powerful, and can command numerous echoes, no matter how far probability, reason, common sense, and truth be violated—the wished-for end is sure to be attained.

A general, a hero, a great man, hitherto respected by fortune, as well as by mankind, at that moment riveting the attention of three quarters of the globe, commanding admiration even from his enemies, was suddenly accused of a crime declared to be unheard-of and unparalleled; of an act pronounced to be inhuman, atrocious, and cruel; and, what is above all extraordinary, he could have no possible object in committing that crime. The most absurd details, the most improbable circumstances, the most ridiculous episodes were invented, to give a colouring to this first falsehood. The story was circulated through Europe; malevolence seized it, and exaggerated its enormity; it was published in every newspaper; recorded in every book; and thenceforward was looked upon as an established fact:—indignation was at its height, and clamour universal. It would have been vain to reason, or to attempt to stem the torrent, or to shew that no proofs of the fact had been adduced, and that the story contradicted itself. It would have been vain to bring forward opposite and incontrovertible evidence—the evidence of those very medical men who were said to have administered, or to have refused to administer, the poison. It would have been vain to expose the unreasonableness of accusing of inhumanity the man who, but a short time before, had immortalized the hospitals of Jaffa by an act of the sublimest heroism; risking his own safety by solemnly touching the troops infected with the plague, to deceive and soothe the imaginations of the sick men. In vain might it have been urged that the idea of such a crime could not be affixed on him who, when consulted by the medical officers as to the expediency of burning or merely washing the clothes worn by the invalids, and being reminded of the enormous loss attendant on the former measure, replied;—“Gentlemen, I came here to fix the attention and to recal the interests of Europe to the centre of the ancient world, and not with the view of amassing wealth.” In vain would it have been shewn that there could be no object, no motive whatever, for this supposed crime. Had the French General any reason to suspect a design for corrupting his invalids and converting them into reinforcements against himself? Did he hope that this barbarous act would completely rid him of the infection? He might have effected that object equally well by leaving his invalids to be overtaken by the enemy’s troops, which would moreover have been the means of spreading the contagion among the latter. It would have been vain to shew that an unfeeling and selfish chief might have freed himself from all embarrassment by merely leaving the unfortunate men behind him: they would have been massacred, it is true; but no one would ever have thought of addressing a reproach to him.

These and all other arguments would have been vain and useless, so powerful and infallible are the effects of falsehood and declamation when the passions of mankind are interested in their propagation. The imaginary crime was repeated by every mouth, was engraven on every heart, and to the common mass of mankind it will perhaps for ever continue a positive and incontrovertible fact.

A circumstance which will not a little surprise those who have yet to learn how little credit is due to public report, and which will also serve to shew the errors that may creep into history, is that Marshal Bertrand, who was himself with the army in Egypt, (though certainly in a rank which did not enable him to come into immediate contact with the General-in-chief) firmly believed, up to the period of his residence at St. Helena, the story of poison having been administered to sixty invalids. The report was circulated and believed even in our army; therefore, what answer could be given to those who triumphantly asserted “It is a fact, I assure you, I have it from officers who served in the French army at the time?” Nevertheless, the whole story is false. I have collected the following facts from the highest source, from the mouth of Napoleon himself.

1st. That the invalids in question, who were infected with the plague, amounted, according to the report made to the General-in-chief, only to seven in number.

2nd. That it was not the General-in-chief, but a professional man, who, at the moment of the crisis, proposed the administering of opium.

3rd. That opium was not administered to a single individual.

4th. That the retreat having been effected slowly, a rear-guard was left behind in Jaffa for three days.

5th. That, on the departure of the rear-guard, the invalids were all dead, except one or two, who must have fallen into the hands of the English.

N.B. Since my return to Paris, having had opportunities of conversing with those whose situation and profession naturally rendered them the first actors in the scene—those whose testimony must be considered as official and authentic, I have had the curiosity to enquire into the most minute details, and the following is the result of my enquiries.

“The invalids under the care of the Surgeon-in-chief, that is to say, the wounded, were all, without exception, removed, with the help of the horses belonging to the staff, not excepting even those of the General-in-chief, who proceeded for a considerable distance on foot, like the rest of the army. These, therefore, are quite out of the question.

“With regard to the rest of the invalids, about twenty in number, who were under the care of the Physician-in-chief, and who were in an absolutely desperate condition, totally unfit to be removed, while the enemy was advancing, it is very true that Napoleon asked the Physician-in-chief whether it would not be an act of humanity to administer opium to them. It is also true that the Physician replied, his business was to cure and not to kill;—an answer which, as it seems to have reference to an order rather than to a subject of discussion, has, perhaps, furnished a basis on which slander and falsehood might invent and propagate the fabrication which has since been circulated on this subject.

“Finally, the details which I have been able to collect afford me the following incontestible results:—

“1st. That no order was given for the administering of opium to the sick.

“2nd. That there was not at the period in question, in the medicine-chest of the army, a single grain of opium for the use of the sick.

“3rd. That even had the order been given, and had there been a supply of opium, temporary and local circumstances, which it would be tedious to enumerate here, would have rendered its execution impossible.

“The following circumstances have probably helped to occasion, and may, perhaps, in some degree excuse, the mistake of those who have obstinately maintained the truth of the contrary facts. Some of our wounded men, who had been put on board ship, fell into the hands of the English. We had been short of medicines of all kinds in the camp, and we had supplied the deficiency by compositions formed from indigenous trees and plants. The draughts and other medicines had a horrible taste and appearance. The prisoners, either for the purpose of exciting pity, or from having heard of the opium story, which the nature of the medicines might incline them to believe, told the English that they had miraculously escaped death, having had poison administered to them by their medical officers.” So much for the invalids under the care of the Surgeon-in-chief.

Now for the others.—“The army unfortunately had, as Apothecary-in-chief, a wretch who had been allowed the use of five camels to convey from Cairo the quantity of medicines necessary for the expedition. This man was base enough to supply himself on his own account, instead of medicines, with sugar, coffee, wine, and other provisions, which he afterwards sold at an enormous profit. On the discovery of the fraud, the indignation of the General-in-chief was without bounds, and the offender was condemned to be shot; but all the medical officers, who were so distinguished for their courage, and whose attentive care had rendered them so dear to the army, implored his pardon, alleging that the honour of the whole body would be compromised by his punishment; and thus the culprit escaped. Some time after, when the English took possession of Cairo, this man joined them, and made common cause with them; but, having attempted to renew some of his old offences, he was condemned to be hanged, and again escaped by slandering the General-in-chief Buonaparte, of whom he invented a multitude of horrible stories, and, by representing himself as the identical person who had, by the General’s orders, administered opium to the soldiers infected with the plague. His pardon was the condition and the reward of his calumnies. This was doubtless the first source whence the story was derived, by those who were not induced to propagate it from malevolent motives.

“Time has, however, fully exposed this absurd calumny, as well as many others which have been applied in the same direction, and that with so great a rapidity, that on revising my manuscript, I have been surprised at the importance I have attached to the refutation of a charge which no one would now dare to maintain. Still, I thought it best to preserve what I had written, as a testimony of the impression of the moment; and if I have now added some farther details, it is because they happened to lie within my reach, and I thought it important to record them as historical facts.”

Sir Robert Wilson has, in his work, boasted, with seeming complacency, of having been the first to make known and to propagate these odious charges in Europe. His countryman, Sir Sydney Smith, may perhaps dispute this honour with him, particularly as he may, in a great measure at least, justly lay claim to the merit of their invention. To him, and to the system of corruption he encouraged, Europe is indebted for all the false reports with which she has been inundated, to the great detriment of our brave army of Egypt.

It is well known that Sir Sydney Smith did every thing in his power to corrupt our army. The false intelligence from Europe—the slander of the General-in-chief—the powerful bribes held out to the officers and soldiers,—were all approved by him: the documents are published, his proclamations are known. At one time they created sufficient alarm in the French General to induce him to seek to put a stop to them; which he did by forbidding all communication with the English, and stating in the Order of the day that their Commodore had gone mad. This assertion was believed in the French army; and it enraged Sir Sydney Smith so much that he sent Napoleon a challenge. The General replied that he had business of too great importance on his hands to think of troubling himself about such a trifle: had he received a challenge from the great Marlborough, then indeed he might have thought it worth while to consider of it: but if the English seaman really felt inclined to amuse himself at a tilting-match, he would send him one of the bullies in his army, and neutralize a few yards of the sea-coast, where the mad Commodore might come ashore, and enjoy his heart’s content of it.

As I am on the subject of Egypt, I will here note down all the information I collected in my detached conversations, and which may possibly not be found in the Campaign of Egypt, dictated by Napoleon to the Grand Marshal.

The campaign of Italy exhibits all the most brilliant and decisive results to which military genius and conception ever gave birth. Diplomatic views, administrative talents, legislative measures, are there uniformly blended in harmony with the prodigies of war. But the most striking and the finishing touch in the picture is the sudden and irresistible ascendancy which the young General acquired:—the anarchy of equality—the jealousy of republican principles—every thing vanished before him: there was not a power, even to the ridiculous sovereignty of the Directory, which was not immediately suspended. The Directory required no accounts from the General-in-chief of the army of Italy; it was left to himself to send them: no plan, no system was prescribed to him; but accounts of victories and conclusions of armistices, of the destruction of old states, and the creation of new ones, were constantly received from him.

In the expedition of Egypt may be retraced all that is admired in the campaign of Italy. The reflecting observer will even perceive that, in the Egyptian expedition, the points of resemblance are of a more important nature, from the difficulties of every kind which gave character to the campaign, and required greater genius and resources on the part of its conductor. In Egypt, a new order of things appeared: climate, country, inhabitants, religion, manners, and mode of fighting, all were different.^[20]

The Memoirs of the Campaign of Egypt will determine points which, at the time, formed only the subjects of conjecture and discussion to a large portion of society.

1st. The expedition of Egypt was undertaken at the earnest and mutual desire of the Directory and the General-in-chief.

2nd. The taking of Malta was not the consequence of a private understanding, but of the wisdom of the General-in-chief. “It was in Mantua that I took Malta,” said the Emperor one day; “it was the generous treatment observed towards Wurmser that secured to me the submission of the Grand Master and his Knights.”

3rd. The conquest of Egypt was planned with as much judgment as it was executed with skill. If Saint Jean d’Acre had surrendered to the French army, a great revolution would have taken place in the East; the General-in-chief would have established an empire there, and the destinies of France would have taken a different turn.

4th. On its return from the campaign of Syria, the French army had scarcely sustained any loss; it remained in the most formidable and prosperous condition.

5th. The departure of the General-in-chief for France was the result of a grand and magnanimous plan. How ridiculous is the imbecility of those who consider that departure as an escape or a desertion!

6th. Kleber fell a victim to Mussulman fanaticism. There is not the slightest foundation for the absurd calumny which would have attributed this catastrophe to the policy of his predecessor, or to the intrigues of his successor.

7th, and lastly. It is pretty well proved that Egypt would have remained for ever a French province if any other but Menou had been appointed for her defence; nothing but the gross errors of that general could have lost us the possession of Egypt.

The Emperor said, that no army in the world was less fit for the Egyptian expedition than that which he led there—the army of Italy. It would be difficult to describe the disgust, the discontent, the melancholy, the despair of that army, on its first arrival in Egypt. The Emperor himself saw two dragoons run out of the ranks and throw themselves into the Nile. Bertrand had seen the most distinguished generals, such as Lannes and Murat, in momentary fits of rage, throw their laced hats on the sand and trample on them in the presence of the soldiers. The Emperor explained these feelingsfeelings surprisingly well. “This army,” said he, “had fulfilled its career. All the individuals belonging to it were satiated with wealth, rank, pleasure, and consideration; they were not fit for the Deserts and the fatigues of Egypt: and,” continued he, “had that army been placed in other hands than mine, it is difficult to say what excesses might not have been committed.”

More than one conspiracy was formed to carry away the flags to Alexandria, and other things of the same sort. The influence, the character, and the glory of the General, could alone restrain the troops. One day, Napoleon, losing his temper in his turn, rushed among a group of discontented generals, and addressing himself, to the tallest, “You have held mutinous language,” said he, with vehemence, “take care that I do not fulfil my duty; it is not your being six foot high that should save you from being shot in a couple of hours.”

With regard, however, to their conduct before the enemy, the Emperor said that this army never ceased to be the army of Italy; that it still preserved the same admirable character. The most difficult party to manage was that which the Emperor used to call “the faction of the sentimentalists,” whom it was impossible to keep under any restraint; their minds were diseased; they spent the night in gazing on the moon for the reflected image of the idols they had left in Europe. At the head of this party was Berthier, the weak and spiritless Berthier, who, when the General-in-chief was preparing to sail from Toulon, posted night and day from Paris to tell him that he was unwell, and could not accompany him, though he was the head of the staff. The General-in-chief took not the smallest notice of what he said, and Berthier, finding himself no longer at the feet of the fair one who had despatched him with the excuse, set sail along with him! On his arrivalarrival in Egypt, he became a prey to ennui, and was unable to subdue his tender recollections;—he solicited and obtained permission to return to France. He took leave of Napoleon, and bade him a formal adieu; but shortly returned with his eyes full of tears, saying that, after all, he would not dishonour himself, and that he could not separate his destiny from that of his General.

Berthier’s love was mingled with a kind of worship. Adjoining the tent, destined for his own use, he always had another prepared, and furnished with the magnificence of the most elegant boudoir; this was consecrated to the portrait of his mistress, before which he would sometimes even go so far as to burn incense. This tent was pitched even in the deserts of Syria. Napoleon said, with a smile, that his temple had oftener than once been profaned by a worship less pure, through the clandestine introduction of foreign divinities.

Berthier never relinquished his passion, which sometimes carried him to the very verge of idiotcy. In his first account of the battle of Marengo, young Visconti, his aide-de-camp, who was but a captain at most, was mentioned five or six times in remembrance of his mother. “One would have thought,” said Napoleon, “that the youth had gained the battle.” Surely the General-in-chief must have been ready to throw the paper in the writer’s face!

The Emperor calculated that he had given Berthier forty millions during his life; but he supposed that from this weakness of his mind, his want of regularity, and his ridiculous passion, he had squandered away a great part of it.

The discontent of the troops in Egypt happily vented itself in sarcastic jokes: this is the humour which always bears a Frenchman through difficulties. They bore a great resentment against General Caffarelli, whom they believed to have been one of the promoters of the expedition. Caffarelli had a wooden leg, having lost one of his limbs on the banks of the Rhine; and whenever the soldiers saw him hobbling-past, they would say, loud enough for him to hear,—“That fellow does not care what happens; he is certain, at all events, to have one foot in France.”

The men of science who accompanied the expedition also came in for their share of the jests. Asses were very numerous in Egypt; almost all the soldiers possessed one or two, and they used always to call them their demi-savans.

The General-in-chief, on his departure from France, had issued a proclamation, in which he informed the troops that he was about to take them to a country where he would make them all rich; where they should each have seven acres of land at their disposal. The soldiers, when they found themselves in the midst of the Desert, surrounded by the boundless ocean of sand, began to question the generosity of their General: they thought he had observed singular moderation in having promised only seven acres. “The rogue,” said they, “might with safety give us as much as he pleases; we should not abuse his good nature.”

While the army was passing through Syria, there was not a soldier but was heard to repeat these lines from Zaire:—

On one occasion, the General-in-chief, having a few moments’ leisure to look about the country, took advantage of the ebb-tide, and crossed on foot to the opposite coast of the Red Sea. Night surprised him on his return, and he lost his way in the midst of the rising tide. He was in the greatest danger, and very narrowly escaped perishing precisely in the same manner as Pharaoh. “This,” said Napoleon, “would have furnished all the preachers of Christianity with a splendid text against me.” On reaching the Arabian coast of the Red Sea, he received a deputation of the Cenobites of Mount Sinai, who came to implore his protection, and to request him to inscribe his name on the ancient register of their charters. Napoleon inscribed his name in the same list with those of Ali, Saladin, Ibrahim, and others! In allusion to this circumstance, or something of a similar kind, the Emperor observed that he had in the course of one year received letters from Rome and Mecca; the Pope addressing him as his dearest son, and the Sherif styling him the Protector of the holy Kaaba.

This singular coincidence, however, is scarcely surprising, with reference to him who has led armies both through the burning sands of the Tropic, and over the frozen Steppes of the North; who, when he narrowly escaped being swallowed up in the waves of the Red Sea, or might have perished in the flames of Moscow, was threatening the Indies from those two extreme points.

The General-in-chief shared the fatigues of the soldiers. The privations endured by every individual in the army were sometimes so great that they were compelled to dispute with each other for the smallest enjoyments, without the least distinction of rank. To such extremities were they reduced that, in the Desert, the soldiers would hardly relinquish their places to allow the General to dip his hands in a muddy stream. On one occasion, as they were passing by the ruins of Pelusium, and were almost suffocated with the heat, some one resigned to him a fragment of a door, beneath which he contrived to shade his head for a few minutes: “And this,” said Napoleon, “was no trifling concession.” It was on this very spot, while removing some stones at his feet, that chance rendered him the possessor of a superb antique, well known in the learned world.^[21]

In proceeding to Asia, the French army had to cross the Desert which separates that continent from Africa. Kleber, who commanded the advanced guard, mistook his road, and lost his way in the Desert. Napoleon, who was following at the distance of half a day’s march, attended by a slender escort, found himself at night-fall in the midst of the Turkish camp: he was closely pursued, and escaped only because, it being night, the Turks suspected that an ambush was intended. The next source of uneasiness was the doubtful fate of Kleber and his detachment, and the greater part of the night was passed in the most cruel anxiety. At length they obtained information respecting them from some Arabs of the Desert, and the General-in-chief hastened, on his dromedary, in quest of his troops. He found them overwhelmed with despair, and ready to perish from thirst and fatigue; some of the young soldiers had, in a moment of frenzy, even broken their muskets. The sight of their General seemed to give them new life, by reviving their hopes. Napoleon informed them that a supply of provisions and water was coming up behind him. “But,” said he, to the troops, “if relief had been longer delayed, would that have excused your murmuring and loss of courage? No, soldiers; learn to die with honour.”

Napoleon travelled the greater part of the way through the Desert on a dromedary. The physical hardihood of this animal renders it unnecessary to pay the least attention to his sustenance; he scarcely eats or drinks; but his moral sensibility is extreme, harsh treatment provokes his resentment, and renders him furious. The Emperor observed that the roughness of his trot created nausea, like the motion of a ship. The animal will travel twenty leagues a day. The Emperor formed some dromedary regiments, and the use he made of them in the army soon proved the destruction of the Arabs. The rider squats himself on the back of the animal, through whose nostrils a ring is passed, which serves to guide him: he is very obedient, and on a certain signal, made by the voice of the rider, the animal kneels down to allow him to alight. The dromedary will carry very heavy burdens, and he is never unloaded during the whole of the journey. On his arrival at evening stations, his load is propped up, and the animal lies down and goes to sleep: at day-break he rises,—his burden is on his back, and he is ready to continue his journey. The dromedary is only a beast of burden, and not at all fit for draught. In Syria, however, they succeeded in yoking them to field-pieces, thus rendering them essentially serviceable.

Napoleon became very popular among the Egyptians, who gave him the name of Sultan Kebir (Father of Fire). He inspired particular respect: wherever he appeared the people rose in his presence; and this deference was paid to him alone. The uniform consideration with which he treated the Sheiks, and the adroitness by which he gained their confidence, rendered him truly the sovereign of Egypt, and more than once saved his life. But for their disclosures, he would have fallen a victim to fanaticism, like Kleber, who, on the contrary, rendered himself odious to the Sheiks, and perished in consequence of subjecting one of them to the punishment of the bastinado. Bertrand was one of the judges who condemned the assassin, and, on his telling us this fact one day at dinner, the Emperor observed:—“If the slanderers, who accuse me of having caused the death of Kleber, were acquainted with the fact you have mentioned, they would not hesitate to call you the assassin, or the accomplice, and would take it for granted that your title of Grand Marshal, and your residence at Saint Helena, are the reward and the punishment of the crime.”

Napoleon willingly conversed with the people of the country, and always displayed sentiments of justice which struck them with wonder. On his way back to Syria, an Arab tribe came to meet him, for the double purpose of shewing him respect and of selling their services as guides. “The chief of the tribe was unwell, and his place was filled by his son, a youth of the age and size of your boy here,” said the Emperor to me: “he was mounted on his dromedary, riding close beside me, and chatting to me with great familiarity. ’Sultan Kebir, said he, ‘I could give you good advice, now that you are returning to Cairo,’ ‘Well, speak, my friend, and if your advice is good, I will follow it.’—‘I’ll tell you what I would do, if I were in your place. As soon as I got to Cairo, I would order the richest slave-merchant into the market, and I would choose twenty of the prettiest women for myself; I would next send for the richest jewellers, and would make them give me up a good share of their stock; I would then do the same with all the other merchants; for what is the use of reigning, or being powerful, if not to acquire riches?’—‘But, my friend, suppose it were more noble to preserve them for others?’ This sentiment seemed to make him reflect a little, without convincing him. The young man was evidently very promising, for an Arab: he was lively and courageous, and led his troop with dignity and order. He is, perhaps, destined, one day or other, to carry his advice into execution for his own benefit in the market-place of Cairo.”

On another occasion, some Arabs who were on friendly terms with the army, penetrated into a village on the frontier, and an unfortunate Fellah (peasant) was killed. The Sultan Kebir flew into a great passion; and, vowing that he would have vengeance, gave orders that the tribe should be pursued into the Desert to extinction. This order was given in the presence of the principal Sheiks, one of whom could not refrain from laughing at his anger and his determination. “Sultan Kebir,” said he, “you are playing a bad game just now: do not quarrel with these people; they can do you ten times more harm than you can do them. And besides, what is it all about. Because they have killed a miserable peasant? Was he your cousin (a proverbial expression among them)?” “He was more than my cousin,” replied Napoleon; “all those whom I govern are my children: power is given to me only that I may ensure their safety.” On hearing these words all the Sheiks bowed their heads, and said, “O! that is very fine;—you have spoken like the Prophet.”

The decision of the Grand Mosque of Cairo in favour of the French army was a masterpiece of skill on the part of the General-in-chief, who induced the synod of the chief Sheiks to declare, by a public act, that the Mussulmans should obey, and pay tribute to, the French general. It is the first and only example of the sort, since the establishment of the Koran, which forbids submission to Infidels. The details of this transaction are invaluable: they will be found in the Campaigns of Egypt.

Saint-Jean d’Acre, doubtless, presented a singular spectacle, when two European armies met with hostile intentions in a little town of Asia, with the mutual purpose of securing the possession of a portion of Africa; but it is still more extraordinary that the persons who directed the efforts of each party were both of the same nation, of the same age, of the same rank, of the same corps, and of the same school.

Philippeaux, to whose talents the English and Turks owed the preservation of Saint Jean d’Acre, had been the companion of Napoleon at the military school of Paris: they had been there examined together, previous to their being sent to their respective corps. “His figure resembled yours,” said the Emperor to me, after having dictated his eulogium in the Memoirs, and mentioned all the mischief he had done him. “Sire,” I answered, “there were many other points of affinity between us; we had been intimate and inseparable companions at the Military School. When he passed through London with Sir Sydney Smith, who, by his assistance, had been enabled to escape from the Temple, he sought for me in every direction. I called at his lodgings only half an hour after his departure; had it not been for this accident, I should probably have accompanied him. I was at the time without occupation; the prospect of adventure might have tempted me; and how strangely might the course of my destinies have been turned in a new direction!”

“I am well aware,” said Napoleon, “of the influence which chance usurps over our political determinations; and it is the knowledge of that circumstance which has always kept me free from prejudice, and rendered me very indulgent with regard to the party adopted by individuals in our political convulsions. To be a good Frenchman, or to wish to become one, was all that I looked for in any one.”—The Emperor then went on to compare the confusion of our troubles to battles in the night-time, where each man attacks his neighbour, and friends are often confounded with foes; but when daylight returns, and order is restored, every one forgives the injury which he has sustained through mistake. “Even for myself,” said he, “how could I undertake to say that there might not have existed circumstances sufficiently powerful, notwithstanding my natural sentiments, to induce me to emigrate? The vicinity of the frontier, for instance, a friendly attachment, or the influence of a chief. In revolutions, we can only speak with certainty to what we have done: it is silly to affirm that we could not have acted otherwise.” The Emperor then related a singular example of the influence of chance over the destinies of men. Serrurier and the younger Hedouville, while travelling together on foot to emigrate into Spain, were met by a military patrol. Hedouville, being the younger and more active of the two, cleared the frontier, thought himself very lucky, and went to spend a life of mere vegetation in Spain. Serrurier, on the contrary, being obliged to return into the interior, bewailed his unhappy fate, and became a marshal: such is the uncertainty of human foresight and calculations!

At Saint-Jean d’Acre, the General-in-chief lost Caffarelli, of whom he was extremely fond. Caffarelli entertained a sort of reverential respect for the General-in-chief. The influence of this sentiment was so great that, though he was delirious for several days previous to his death, when Napoleon went to see him, the announcement of his name seemed to recal him to life: he became more collected, his spirits revived, and he conversed coherently; but he relapsed into his former state immediately after Napoleon’s departure. This singular phenomenon was renewed every time the General-in-chief paid him a visit.

Napoleon received, during the siege of Saint-Jean d’Acre, an affecting proof of heroic devotedness. While he was in the trenches, a shell fell at his feet; two grenadiers who observed it immediately rushed towards him, placed him between them, and raising their arms above his head, completely covered every part of his body. Happily the shell respected the whole group; nobody was injured.

One of these brave grenadiers afterwards became General Dumesnil, who lost a leg in the campaign of Moscow, and commanded the fortress of Vincennes at the time of the invasion in 1814. The capital had been for some weeks occupied by the Allies, and Dumesnil still held out. Nothing was then talked of in Paris but his obstinate defence, and his humorous reply when summoned by the Russians to surrender;—“Give me back my leg, and I will give up my fortress.”

The French soldiers acquired extraordinary reputation in Egypt, and not without cause; they had dispersed and dismayed the celebrated Mamelucks, the most formidable militia of the East. After the retreat from Syria, a Turkish army landed at Aboukir: Murat-Bey, the most powerful and brave of the Mamelucks, left Upper Egypt, whither he had fled for safety, and reached the Turkish camp by a circuitous route. On the landing of the Turks, the French detachments had fallen back in order to concentrate their forces. The Pacha who commanded the Turks was delighted at this movement, which he mistook for the effect of fear; and, on perceiving Murat-Bey, he exultingly exclaimed:—“So! these are the terrible French whom you could not face; see, the moment I make my appearance, how they fly before me.“ The indignant Murat-Bey furiously replied:—“Pacha, render thanks to the Prophet that it has pleased these Frenchmen to retire; if they should return, you will disappear before them like dust before the wind.”

His words were prophetical:—some days after, the French poured down upon the Turkish army and put it to flight. Murat-Bey, who had interviews with several of our generals, was extremely surprised at their diminutive stature and pitiful condition. The Oriental nations attach high importance to the bodily stature, and they were unable to conceive how so much genius could exist within such small dimensions. The appearance of Kleber alone came up to their ideas; he was an uncommonly fine-looking man, but his manners were rude. The discrimination of the Egyptians induced them to think that he was not a Frenchman; in fact, though a native of Alsace, he had spent the early part of his life in the Prussian army, and might very well have passed for a German. Some one said that Kleber had been a Janissary in his youth; the Emperor burst into a fit of laughter, and said somebody had been imposing on him.

The Grand-Marshal told the Emperor that at the battle of Aboukir he was for the first time placed in his army, and near his person. He was then so little accustomed to the boldness of his manoeuvres, that he scarcely understood any of the orders he heard him give. “Particularly, Sire,” added he, “when I heard you call out to an officer, ‘Hercule, my dear fellow, take twenty-five men and charge that rabble:’ I really thought I had lost my senses; your Majesty pointed to a detachment of a thousand Turkish horse.”

After all, the losses sustained by the army in Egypt were far from being so considerable as might have been expected in a country to which the troops were unaccustomed; particularly when the insalubrity of the climate, the remoteness of the resources of the country, the ravages of the plague, and the numerous actions which have immortalized that army, are taken into account. The French force, at its landing in Egypt, amounted to 30,000 men; it was augmented by the wrecks of the battle of Aboukir, and probably also by some partial arrivals from France; and yet the total loss sustained by the army, from the commencement of the campaign to two months after the departure of the General-in-chief for Europe, (during the space of seven or eight-and-twenty months,) amounted only to 8,915, as is proved by the official report of the Muster-master-general.^[22]

The life of a man must indeed be replete with prodigies, when one of his acts, which is without parallel in history scarcely arrests our attention. When CÆsar passed the Rubicon, he possessed an army, and was advancing in his own defence. When Alexander, urged by the ardour of youth and the fire of genius, landed in Asia, to make war on the great King, he, Alexander, was the son of a king, a king himself, and courted the chances of ambition and glory at the head of the forces of his kingdom. But that a private individual, whose name three years before was unknown to the world, who at that moment had nothing to aid him but the reputation of a few victories, his name, and the consciousness of his genius, should have dared to conceive the project of taking into his own hands the destinies of thirty millions of men, of protecting them from external defeats and internal dissensions;—that, roused by the recital of the troubles which were described to him, and by the idea of the disasters which he foresaw, he should have exclaimed, “France will be lost through these fine talkers, these babblers: now is the time to save her!”—that he should have abandoned his army, and crossed the seas, at the risk of his liberty and reputation, have reached the French soil and flown to the capital; that he should there have seized the helm, and stopped short a nation intoxicated with every excess; that he should have suddenly brought her back to the true course of reason and justice;—that he should from that moment have prepared for her a career of power and glory till then unknown;—and that all this should have been accomplished without the shedding of a single tear or a drop of blood;—such an undertaking may be regarded as one of the most gigantic and sublime that ever was heard of; it will fill calm and dispassionate posterity with astonishment and admiration; though at the time it was branded by some with the name of a desperate flight, and an infamous desertion. The army, however, which Napoleon left behind him, continued to occupy Egypt for the space of two years longer. It was the opinion of the Emperor that it ought never to have been forced to surrender; and the Grand Marshal, who accompanied the army to the last moment, concurred in that opinion.

After the departure of the General-in-chief, Kleber, who succeeded him, deceived and misled by intrigues, treated for the evacuation of Egypt; but when the enemy’s refusal compelled him to seek for new glory, and to form a more just estimate of his own force, he totally altered his opinions, and declared himself favourable to the occupation of Egypt; and this had even become the general sentiment of the army. He now thought only of maintaining himself in the country; he dismissed those who had influenced him in forming his first design, and collected around him only those who favoured the contrary measure. Had he lived, Egypt would have been secure; to his death her loss must be attributed. The command of the army was afterwards divided between Menou and Regnier. It then became a mere field of intrigue: the energy and courage of the French troops continued unabated; but they were no longer employed and directed as they had been by Kleber. Menou was totally inefficient; the English advanced to attack him with twenty thousand men; his force was much more considerable, and the general spirit of the two armies was not to be compared. By an inconceivable infatuation, Menou hastily dispersed his troops, as soon as he learned that the English were about to appear, the latter advanced in a mass, and were attacked only in detail. “How blind is fortune,” said the Emperor; “by the adoption of contrary measures, the English would infallibly have been destroyed; and how many new chances might not that event have brought about!”

Their landing was admirable, said the Grand Marshal: in less than five or six minutes five thousand five hundred men appeared in order of battle: it was a truly theatrical movement; and it was thrice repeated. Their landing was opposed by only twelve hundred men, who did them considerable damage. Shortly after, this mass, amounting to between thirteen and fourteen thousand, was intrepidly attacked by General Lanusse. The General had only three thousand troops; but fired with ambition, and not doubting that his force was adequate to fulfil the object he had in view, he would not wait for reinforcements; at first he overthrew every thing in his way, and, after causing immense slaughter to the enemy, he was at length defeated. Had his force been two or three thousand stronger, he would have attained his object.

The English were greatly astonished when they had an opportunity of judging for themselves of our real situation in Egypt; and they considered themselves extremely fortunate in the turn which affairs had taken.

General Hutchinson, who reaped the glory of the conquest, said, on his return to Europe, that had the English known the real state of things, they would certainly never have attempted to land; but in England it was believed that there were not six thousand French troops in Egypt. This mistake arose out of the intercepted letters, as well as the intelligence that was collected in Egypt. “So natural is it to Frenchmen,” said Napoleon, “to exaggerate, murmur, and misrepresent, whenever they are dissatisfied. These reports, however, were created merely by ill-humour or diseased imaginations: it was said that there was a famine in Egypt; that the French had all been destroyed, at every new battle; that the plague had swept away the whole army; that there was not a man left,” &c.

Through the repetition of these reports, Pitt was at length persuaded of their reality; and how could it be otherwise? The First Consul saw the despatches from his successor addressed to the Directory; and also letters from various persons in the French army. Who can explain the contradictions they contained? Who will henceforth trust to individual authority for the support of his opinion? Kleber, the General-in-chief, informed the Directory, that he had only six thousand men, while in the same packet the accounts of the inspector of reviews exhibited upwards of twenty thousand. Kleber declared that he was without money, and the treasury accounts display vast sums. The General-in-chief alleged that the artillery was merely an intrenched park, destitute of ammunition; while the estimates of that department made mention of stores for several campaigns. “Thus, if Kleber, by virtue of the treaty he commenced, had evacuated Egypt,” said the Emperor, “I should undoubtedly have brought him to trial on his return to France. All these contradictory documents had been submitted to the examination and opinion of the Council of State.”

From the letters of Kleber, the General-in-chief, an idea may be formed of the tone of those written by persons of inferior rank, and by the common soldiers. Such, however, were the communications daily intercepted by the English; which they printed and which guided them in their operations—a circumstance that must have cost them dear. The Emperor observed that in all his campaigns he had seen the same effect produced by intercepted letters, which sometimes had proved of great advantage to him.

Among the letters which at this period fell into his hands, he found odious attacks upon himself, which he felt the more sensibly because several of them were written by persons whom he had loaded with benefits, in whom he had reposed full confidence, and whom he believed to be strongly attached to him. One of these individuals, whose fortune he had made, and in whom he trusted with the utmost sincerity, alleged that the General-in-chief had decamped, after robbing the treasury of two millions. Fortunately, in these same despatches the accounts of the Paymaster proved that the General had not even received the whole amount of the pay due to him. “On reading this statement,” said the Emperor, “I felt really disgusted at mankind. This was the first moral disappointment I had ever experienced; and if it has not been the only one, it has, perhaps, at least, been the most severe. Many individuals in the army thought me ruined, and they were already eagerly seeking to pay their court in the proper quarter at my expense.” The author of the assertion above alluded to subsequently endeavoured to restore himself to favour. The Emperor signified that he should have no objection to his being employed in a subordinate situation; but that he would never see him again. To every application he constantly replied that he did not know him: this was the only vengeance he took.

The Emperor never ceased to repeat that Egypt ought to have remained in the possession of the French, which would infallibly have been the case had the country been defended by Kleber or Desaix. “These were my two most distinguished lieutenants,” said he; “both possessed great and rare merits, though their characters and dispositions were very different.”

Kleber’s was the talent of nature; Desaix’s was entirely the result of education and assiduity. The genius of Kleber only burst forth at particular moments, when roused by the importance of the occasion; and then it immediately slumbered again in the bosom of indolence and pleasure. The talent of Desaix was always in full activity; he lived only for noble ambition and true glory: his character was formed on the true ancient model. The Emperor said that his death was the greatest loss he could possibly have sustained. Their conformity of education and principles would always have preserved a good understanding between them. Desaix would have been satisfied with secondary rank, and would have remained ever devoted and faithful. Had he not been killed at the battle of Marengo, the First Consul would have given him the command of the army of Germany, instead of continuing it to Moreau. A very extraordinary circumstance in the destiny of these two lieutenants of Napoleon was that on the very day and at the very hour when Kleber was assassinated at Cairo, Desaix was killed by a cannon-ball at Marengo.

THE EMPEROR’S METHOD OF DICTATING.

October 1st—3rd. The wind, the sea, and the temperature still continued without variation. The westerly wind, which had at first been so much in our favour, now began to be adverse. We had taken an easterly direction, in the hope of falling in with the trade-winds; but we now found ourselves to the leeward of the place of our destination, through the continuance of the westerly winds—a circumstance which surprised every body, and excited dissatisfaction among the crew.

The Emperor every morning regularly continued his dictation, in which he daily took a deeper interest; consequently his hours henceforth seemed less tedious.

The vessel had been sent out of port in such a hurry that many repairs remained to be completed after we had put to sea, and the painting of the ship had only recently been finished. The Emperor’s sense of smelling is extremely delicate; and he found the paint so very offensive that he was forced to confine himself to his cabin for two days.

Every evening, when taking his walk on deck, he loved to revert to the occupation of the morning. At first, he was assisted by no other document than a wretched work entitled Guerres des FranÇais en Italie, written without end or object, and devoid of any connected chronological plan. The Emperor glanced through it, and his memory supplied all deficiences: this faculty indeed appeared to me the more extraordinary since it always seemed to be in readiness when needed, and as if at command.

When the Emperor commenced his daily dictations, he always complained that the circumstances to which he wished to recur were no longer familiar to him. He seemed to want confidence in himself, saying he should never get through the task. After considering for a few moments he would rise and walk about, and then begin to dictate. From that moment he was quite another man: every thing flowed smoothly; he spoke as if by inspiration; places, dates, phrases—he stopped at nothing.

On the following day I read to him what he had dictated. After making the first correction he continued to go on with the same subject, as though he had said nothing about it the day before. The difference between the first and the second version was very great: the latter was more positive and diffuse, and better arranged; indeed it sometimes materially differed from the first.

On the day succeeding the first correction, the same operation was repeated, and the Emperor commenced his third dictation for the purpose of setting the two former ones right. But after that, had he dictated a fourth, a seventh, or a tenth time, as he in some instances did, it would have been a repetition of precisely the same ideas, the same construction of phrases, and almost the same words. It was needless to take the trouble to write, though before his eyes: he paid no attention to what was doing, and continued to the end of his subject. It would have been vain to ask him to repeat any thing that might not have been distinctly heard: he still went on; and as he dictated with great rapidity, I never ventured to interrupt him, lest I should lose still more, and find myself unable to recover the thread of the subject.

A SINGULAR ACCIDENT.

4th—7th. The continuance of the south-west wind was truly unfortunate. We were now going back instead of forward and we had completely entered the Gulf of Guinea. There we perceived a ship, with which we spoke. She proved to be a French ship, driven out of her course like ourselves. She had sailed from a port in Britany, and was bound for the Isle of Bourbon. The Emperor had been much distressed for want of books; and I jokingly said that perhaps I might have a box-full on board that ship, as I had despatched one to the Isle of Bourbon, a few months since. I spoke truly. Such is the caprice of chance! Had I been in quest of this ship, I might have traversed the ocean in vain. This was the identical vessel: I learned her name next day from the officer who had visited her. This officer strangely surprised the French captain, by telling him that the Emperor Napoleon was on board the ship which he then saw making for St. Helena. The poor fellow shook his head sorrowfully, and said, “You have robbed us of our treasure: you have taken away him who knew how to govern us according to our tastes and manners.”

COMPLAINTS OF THE CREW AGAINST THE ADMIRAL.—EXAMINATION
OF ANOTHER WORK.—REFUTATIONS.—REFLECTIONS.

8th—11th. The weather continued obstinately settled. We every evening consoled ourselves, for the unfavourable state of the day, with the hope of a change during the night; but we arose in the morning with the same disappointment. We had been almost within sight of the Congo, and we stood off. Every one manifested discontent and ennui. The crew complained of the Admiral; had he taken the usual course, said they, we should have reached our destination long before; his caprice, they observed, had led him, in spite of reason, to try an experiment, of which they knew not what might be the consequence. Their murmurs were not, however, so vehement as those raised against Christopher Columbus; we should not have been ill pleased had he been reduced to the necessity of finding another Saint Salvador, in order to evade the crisis. Being for my own part fully occupied, this circumstance engrossed but little of my attention; and after all, one prison was as good as another. As to the Emperor, he was still more unconcerned at this delay; he merely looked upon it as so many days spent.

Les MÉmoires de NapolÉon Bonaparte, par quelqu’un qui ne l’a jamais quittÉ pendant 15 ans, (The Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte, by one who was constantly near him, during fifteen years,) was the title of a work which I began to examine after the writings of Sir Robert Wilson. It is a volume of three hundred pages, by an anonymous author—a circumstance in itself sufficient to inspire distrust at the first outset. But the composition and style of the work soon created more positive doubts in the mind of the reflecting reader, who is accustomed to judge of books. Finally, he who has seen and known but little of the Emperor will not hesitate to affirm, on reading the very first pages, that this work is a mere romance, written at pleasure; that the author has never approached the Emperor; and that he is a hundred leagues distant from his language, habits, and every thing concerning him. The Emperor never said to a minister: “Count, do this,”—“Count, execute that.” Ambassadors never attended his levee. Napoleon could not, at fourteen years of age, have made to a lady in company, the reply attributed to him, relative to the Viscomte de Turenne; because from the age of ten to eighteen he was attending the Military School, where he could not possibly have been introduced to the company of ladies. It was not Perignon, who did not know him, but Dugommier, who had been his General, who recommended him in so marked a way to the Directory. It was a letter for restoring the Democracy, and not the Bourbons, which an officer addressed to the First Consul, &c.

The Emperor, who in Europe was universally acknowledged to have preserved the most impenetrable secrecy with regard to his plans and views, never indulged in gestures, and still less in soliloquies, which would have been likely to betray him: nor did his anger ever throw him into fits of insanity or epilepsy—an absurd fabrication which was long circulated in the saloons of Paris, but which was relinquished when it was found that those accidents never occurred on important occasions. These Memoirs have unquestionably been an ordered work, the speculation of some bookseller who has furnished the title. Be this as it may, it might have been supposed that, in adverting to a career so public as that of the Emperor and of those who surrounded him, the author might have evinced more accuracy and knowledge of his subject. He is aware of his insufficiency on this head, and seeks to defend himself by saying that he was under the necessity of altering names, and that he did not wish to render certain portraits too striking; but he also observes this circumspection with regard to facts, so that they cannot be recognised. They are for the most part entirely the creations of his own fancy. Thus, the paper whose loss cost the General-in-chief so much anxiety in Egypt; the recommendation of the young Englishman, who transported Bonaparte with joy by opening to him so brilliant a perspective of fortune at Constantinople; the melodrama of Malmaison, where the heroism of Madame Bonaparte (who is described as an absolute amazon) so promptly secures the safety of her husband, may perhaps excite the interest of the reader; but they are only so many fables; and the story relative to Malmaison shews that the author knew no more of the character and disposition of the Empress Josephine than of those of the Emperor. The writer, however, by extolling certain traits, praising certain actions, and refuting certain falsehoods, assumes an air of impartiality, which, joined to his pretended situation near the Emperor during fifteen years, produces a wonderful effect in the eyes of common readers. Most of the Englishmen on board the vessel looked upon this work as a kind of oracle. Their opinion was not changed on finding the Emperor’s character so different from that attributed to him in this romance. They were inclined to believe that adversity and constraint had wrought an alteration in the Emperor, rather than to suppose that these printed statements were false. To my observations, they constantly replied:—“But the author was an impartial man, and one who was about the Emperor for fifteen years:”—“But,” said I, “what is this man’s name? If he had personally injured you in his book, how could you bring him to justice? Any body here might have written it!” These arguments were of course unanswerable; but the English found great difficulty in overcoming their first impressions: such are the common mass of readers, and such is the effect inevitably produced by printed falsehoods!

But I shall no longer continue my examination of a work which is not deserving of farther notice; I therefore dispense with the remainder. On revising my manuscript in Europe, I found that public opinion had made such progress that I should be ashamed to waste time in refuting allegations and facts which judgment and common sense have long since rejected, and which are now repeated only by fools.

In endeavouring to subvert the erroneous notions which this author thought proper to create respecting the character of Napoleon, it will perhaps be thought that I should substitute my own opinions in their stead; but this I shall carefully avoid. I shall content myself with noting down all that I saw and heard; I will report his conversations, and nothing more must be expected.

12th—13th. By dint of patience, and with the help of a few trifling variations, we gradually approached the termination of our voyage; and, though deprived of the natural monsoon, we had now advanced within a short distance of our place of destination. As we continued our course, the weather gradually improved, and at length the wind became perfectly favourable; but this change did not take place until twenty-four hours before our arrival.

14th.—The Admiral had previously informed us that he expected to come within sight of St. Helena this day. We had scarcely risen from table when our ears were saluted with the cry of Land! This was just within a quarter of an hour of the moment that had been fixed on. Nothing can better prove the advancement of navigation, than this sort of miracle, by which seamen are enabled to foretel the hour at which they shall arrive at a particular point in the vast expanse. The Emperor went on the forecastle to see the island: he thought he perceived it, but I could see nothing. We lay-to all night.

ARRIVAL OFF SAINT-HELENA.

15th.—At day light I had a tolerably near view of the island. At first I thought it rather extensive; but it seemed to diminish considerably as we approached. At length, about seventy days after our departure from England, and a hundred and ten after our departure from Paris, we cast anchor about noon. This was the first link of the chain that was to bind the modern Prometheus to his rock.

We found at anchor several of the vessels of our squadron, which had separated from us, or which we had left behind. They had, however, arrived several days before us: another proof of the extreme uncertainty attending nautical calculations.

The Emperor, contrary to custom, dressed early and went upon deck; he went forward on the gangway to view the island. We beheld a kind of village surrounded by numerous barren and naked hills towering to the clouds. Every platform, every aperture, the brow of every hill, was planted with cannon. The Emperor viewed the prospect through his glass. I stood behind him. My eyes were constantly fixed on his countenance, in which I could perceive no change; and yet he saw before him, perhaps his perpetual prison!—perhaps his grave!... What, then, remained for me to feel or to express!

The Emperor soon left the deck. He desired me to come to him, and we proceeded with our usual occupation.

The admiral, who had gone ashore very early, returned about six o’clock, much fatigued. He had been walking about various parts of the island, and at length thought he had found a habitation that would suit us. The place, however, stood in need of repairs which might occupy two months. We had now been confined to our wooden dungeon for nearly three months; and the precise instructions of the Ministers were that we should be detained there until our prison on shore was ready for our reception. The Admiral, to do him justice, was incapable of such barbarity; he informed us, at the same time betraying a sort of inward satisfaction, that he would take upon himself the responsibility of putting us ashore next day.