Oct. 16th.—After dinner, the Emperor, accompanied by the Grand Marshal,
got into a boat to go ashore. By a remarkable and irresistible impulse,
the officers all assembled on the quarter-deck, and the greater part of
the crew on the gangways. This was not the effect of curiosity, which an
acquaintance of three months’ duration could not fail to have removed,
and which was now succeeded by the liveliest interest. The Emperor,
before he stepped into the boat, sent for the captain of the vessel, and
took leave of him, desiring him at the same time to convey his thanks to
the officers and crew. These words appeared to produce a great sensation
on all by whom they were understood, or to whom they were interpreted.
The remainder of the Emperor’s suite landed about eight o’clock. We were
accompanied by several of the officers, and every one on board seemed to
be sincerely affected at our departure.
We found the Emperor in the apartment which had been assigned to him; a
few minutes after our arrival he went up stairs to his chamber, where we
were called to attend him. His situation here was no better than it had
been on board the vessel; we found ourselves lodged in a sort of inn or
hotel.
The town of St. Helena consists only of one very short street, or row of
houses, built along a very narrow valley, formed between two mountains,
quite perpendicular, composed of barren rock.
THE EMPEROR FIXES HIS ABODE AT BRIARS—DESCRIPTION
OF THE PLACE.—MISERABLE SITUATION.
17th.—At six o’clock in the morning the Emperor, the Grand Marshal, and
the Admiral, rode out on horse-back to visit Longwood, a house which had
been chosen for the Emperor’s residence, and was more than two leagues
from the town. On their return they saw a small villa situated in the
valley about two miles from the town. The Emperor was extremely
reluctant to return to the place where he had passed the preceding
night, and where he felt himself more completely secluded from the world
than he had been when on board the vessel. What with the sentinels who
guarded his doors, and the crowds of persons whom curiosity had
attracted beneath his windows, he had been obliged to confine himself to
his chamber. A small pavilion, attached to the villa above-mentioned,
pleased him, and the Admiral was of opinion that he would be more
agreeably situated there than in the town. In this place, therefore, the
Emperor fixed his residence, and immediately sent for me. He had become
so much interested in his work, on the Campaigns of Italy, that he could
not suspend it:—I immediately proceeded to join him.
The little valley in which the village of St. Helena [James Town] is
situated, extends to a considerable distance up the island, winding
along between two chains of barren hills which enclose it on either
side. A good carriage-road runs through this valley to the distance of
about two miles; after which it is traced along the brow of the hill
which rises on the left, while nothing but precipices and gulfs are
discoverable on the right. The rugged aspect of the country here
gradually diminishes, and the road opens on a small level height, on
which are several houses interspersed with trees and different kinds of
vegetation: this is a little oasis amidst the rocky desert. Here is
situated the modest residence of Mr. Balcombe, a merchant of the island.
At the distance of thirty or forty paces from the dwelling-house, on a
pointed eminence, stood a little summer-house or pavilion, to which, in
fine weather, the family were accustomed to retire to take tea and amuse
themselves: this was the obscure retreat hired by the Admiral, as the
temporary residence of the Emperor; and he took possession of it in the
morning. As I was ascending the winding path leading to the pavilion, I
thought I perceived the Emperor, and stopped to look at him. It was
Napoleon himself: his body was slightly bent, and his hands behind his
back; he wore his usual neat and simple uniform, and his celebrated
little hat. He was standing at the threshold of the door whistling a
popular French tune, when I advanced towards him. “Ah!” said he, “here
you are! Why have you not brought your son?” “Sire,” I replied, “the
respect, the consideration I owe you prevented me.”—“You cannot do
without him,” continued he; “send for him.”
In none of his campaigns, perhaps in no situation of his past life, had
the Emperor been so wretchedly lodged, or subject to so many privations.
The summer-house contained one room, nearly square, on the ground-floor,
having two doors facing each other on two of its sides, and two windows
on each of the other sides. These windows had neither curtains nor
shutters, and there was scarcely a seat in the room. The Emperor was at
this moment alone; his two valets-de-chambre were bustling about to
prepare his bed. He wished to walk a little; but there was no level
ground on any side of the pavilion, which was surrounded by huge pieces
of stone and rock. He took my arm, and began to converse in a cheerful
strain. Night was advancing; profound silence, undisturbed solitude,
prevailed on every side;—what a crowd of sensations and sentiments
overwhelmed me at this moment!—I was in this desert, _tête-a-tête_, and
enjoying familiar conversation with the man who had ruled the
world!—with Napoleon! What were my feelings!——But to understand them it
would be necessary to revert to the days of his past glory; to the time
when one of his decrees sufficed to subvert thrones and create kings! It
would be necessary to reflect on what he was to all who surrounded him
at the Tuileries: the timid embarrassment, the profound respect, with
which he was approached by his ministers and officers; the anxiety, the
dread of ambassadors, princes and even kings! With me all these
sentiments remained in full force.
When the Emperor was about to retire to rest, we found that one of the
windows (which, as I have already observed, had neither shutters nor
curtains) was close upon his bed, nearly on a level with his face. We
barricadoed it as well as we could, so as to exclude the air, of the
effects of which the Emperor is very susceptible, the least draught
being sufficient to give him cold or the tooth-ache. For my part I
ascended to the upper story, immediately above the Emperor’s room. In
this place, the dimensions of which were about seven feet square, there
was only a bed, and not a single chair: this served as a lodging for me
and my son, for whom a mattress was spread out upon the floor. But how
could we complain, being so near the Emperor? we could hear the sound of
his voice, and distinguish his words! The valets-de-chambre slept on the
ground, across the doorway, wrapped up in their cloaks. Such is the
faithful description of the first night which Napoleon passed at Briars.
DESCRIPTION OF BRIARS.—THE GARDEN.—THE EMPEROR
MEETS THE YOUNG LADIES OF THE HOUSE.
18th.—I breakfasted with the Emperor: he had neither table-cloth nor
plates; and the remains of the preceding day’s dinner were brought to
him for breakfast.
The English officer was lodged in the neighbouring house, as our guard,
and two inferior officers marched up and down with an air of military
parade before our eyes, for the purpose of watching our motions.
Breakfast being over, the Emperor proceeded to his dictation, which
occupied him some hours. He afterwards went to explore our new domain,
and to take a view of the surrounding grounds.
Descending our hillock on the side facing the principal house, we found
a path bordered by a hedge and running at the foot of precipices. After
walking along the path to the distance of two hundred paces, we arrived
at a little garden, the door of which was open. This garden is long and
narrow, and formed on very uneven ground; but a tolerable level walk
extends the whole length of it. At the entrance there is a sort of
arbour at one extremity; and at the other are two huts for the negroes
whose business it is to look after the garden. It contains some
fruit-trees and a few flowers. We had no sooner entered the garden, than
we were met by the daughters of the master of the house, girls about
fourteen or fifteen years of age: the one sprightly, giddy, and caring
for nothing; the other more sedate, but, at the same time, possessing
great _naïveté_ of manner; both speak a little French. They had walked
through the garden, and put all the flowers under contribution, to
present them to the Emperor, whom they overwhelmed with the most
whimsical and ridiculous questions. The Emperor was much amused by this
familiarity, to which he was so little accustomed. “We have been to a
masked ball,” said he, when the young ladies had taken their leave.
THE YOUTH OF FRANCE.—THE EMPEROR VISITS
MR. BALCOMBE’S HOUSE.
19th—20th. The Emperor invited my son to breakfast: it may be easily
imagined that he was greatly overjoyed at this honour! It was, perhaps,
the first time he had ever been so near the Emperor, or had spoken to
him; and he was not a little flurried on the occasion.
The table still remained without a cloth; the breakfast continued to be
brought from the town, and consisted of only two or three wretched
dishes. To-day a chicken was brought: the Emperor wished to carve it
himself, and to help us. He was astonished at finding that he succeeded
so well; it was long, he said, since he had done so much: for all his
politeness, he added, had been lost in the business and cares of his
Generalship of Italy.
Coffee is almost a necessary of life to the Emperor: but here it proved
so bad that, on tasting it he thought himself poisoned. He sent it away,
and made me send away mine also.
The Emperor was at this moment using a snuff-box set with several
ancient medals, which were surrounded by Greek inscriptions. The Emperor
not being certain of the name of one of the heads, asked me to translate
the inscription; and on my replying that it was beyond my powers, he
laughed and said, “I see you are no better scholar than myself.” My son
then tremblingly undertook the task, and read Mithridates,
Demetrius-Poliorcetes, and some other names. The extreme youth of my
son, and this circumstance, attracted the Emperor’s attention. “Is your
son so far advanced?” said he; and he began to question him at great
length respecting his Lyceum, his masters, his lessons, &c. Then turning
to me, “What a rising generation I leave behind me!” said he. “This is
all my work! The merits of the French youth will be a sufficient revenge
to me. On beholding the work, all must render justice to the workman!
and the perverted judgment or bad faith of declaimers must fall before
my deeds. If I had thought only of myself, and of securing my own power,
as has been continually asserted, if I had really had any other object
in view than to establish the reign of reason, I should have endeavoured
to _hide the light under a bushel_; instead of which, I devoted myself
to the propagation of knowledge, and yet the youth of France have not
enjoyed all the benefits which I intended they should. My University,
according to the plan I had conceived, was a master-piece in its
combinations, and would have been such in its national results. But an
evil-disposed person spoiled all; and in so doing he was actuated no
doubt by bad intentions, and with a view to some purpose.”
In the evening the Emperor went to visit our neighbours. Mr. Balcombe,
who was suffering under a fit of the gout, lay stretched on a sofa; his
wife and the two young ladies, whom he had met in the morning, were
beside him. The _masked ball_ was resumed again with great spirit. Our
guests liberally dealt out all their store of knowledge. The
conversation turned on novels. One of the young ladies had read Madame
Cottin’s _Mathilde_, and was delighted to find that the Emperor was
acquainted with the work. An Englishman, with a great round face, to all
appearance a true _vacuum plenum_, who had been listening earnestly, in
order to turn his little knowledge of French to the best account,
modestly ventured to ask the Emperor whether the Princess, the friend of
Matilda, whose character he particularly admired, was still living? The
Emperor with a very solemn air replied, “No, sir; she is dead and
buried:” and he was almost tempted to believe he was himself hoaxed,
until he found that the melancholy tidings almost drew tears from the
great staring eyes of the Englishman.
The young ladies evinced no less simplicity, though in them it was more
pardonable: however, I was led to conclude that they had not studied
chronology very deeply. One of them turning over Florian’s _Estelle_, to
shew us that she could read French, happened to light on the name of
Gaston de Foix, and finding him distinguished by the title of General,
she asked the Emperor whether he had been satisfied with his conduct in
the army, whether he had escaped the dangers of war, and whether he was
still living.
21st.—In the morning the Admiral came to visit the Emperor. He knocked
at the door; and had I not been present, the Emperor must have been
reduced to the alternative of opening it himself, or suffering the
Admiral to wait on the outside.
All the scattered members of our little colony, likewise, came from the
town, and we were for a short time collected together. Each described
the wretchedness of his situation, and received the sympathy of the
Emperor.
HORROR AND MISERY OF OUR SITUATION.—THE EMPEROR’S
INDIGNATION.—NOTE TO THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT.
23rd–24th. The English Ministers, in violating the rights of
hospitality, to which we had trusted with such implicit confidence, seem
to have omitted nothing adapted to make us feel this violation the more
bitterly. By banishing us to the farthest extremity of the world, and
reducing us to every kind of privation and ill-treatment, they wish to
make us drain the cup of misery to the very dregs. St. Helena is a true
Siberia: the only difference is its limited extent, and the climate
being warm instead of cold.
The Emperor Napoleon, who but lately possessed such boundless power, and
disposed of so many Crowns, now occupies a wretched hovel, a few feet
square, perched upon a rock, unprovided with furniture, and without
either shutters or curtains to the windows. This place must serve him
for bed-chamber, dressing-room, dining-room, study, and sitting-room;
and he is obliged to go out when it is necessary to have this one
apartment cleaned. His meals, consisting of a few wretched dishes, are
brought to him from a distance, as though he were a criminal in a
dungeon. He is absolutely in want of the necessaries of life: the bread
and wine are not such as we have been accustomed to, and are so bad that
we loathe to touch them; water, coffee, butter, oil, and other articles,
are either not to be procured, or are scarcely fit for use: a bath,
which is so necessary to the Emperor’s health, is not to be had; and he
is deprived of the exercise of riding on horseback.
His friends and servants are two miles distant from him, and are not
suffered to approach his person without being accompanied by a soldier.
They are deprived of their arms, and are compelled to pass the night at
the guard-house, if they return beyond a certain hour, or if any mistake
occur in the pass-word, which happens almost daily. Thus, on the summit
of this frightful rock, we are equally exposed to the severity of man
and the rigour of nature! And how easy would it have been to procure us
a more suitable retreat and more courteous usage. Assuredly, if the
Sovereigns of Europe decreed this exile, private enmity has directed its
execution. If policy alone dictated this measure as indispensable, would
it not have been essential, in order to render the fact evident to the
world, to have surrounded with every kind of respect and consideration
the illustrious victim, with regard to whom it had been found necessary
to violate law and principle?
We were all assembled round the Emperor; and he was recapitulating these
facts with warmth: “For what infamous treatment are we reserved!” he
exclaimed. “This is the anguish of death! To injustice and violence,
they now add insult and protracted torment. If I were so hateful to
them, why did they not get rid of me? A few musquet balls in my heart or
my head would have done the business; and there would at least have been
some energy in the crime! Were it not for you, and, above all, for your
wives, I would receive from them nothing but the pay of a private
soldier. How can the monarchs of Europe permit the sacred character of
sovereignty to be violated in my person? Do they not see that they are,
with their own hands, working their own destruction at St. Helena? I
entered their capitals victorious, and had I cherished such sentiments,
what would have become of them? They styled me their brother; and I had
become so by the choice of the people, the sanction of victory, the
character of religion, and the alliances of their policy and their
blood. Do they imagine that the good sense of nations is blind to their
conduct? and what do they expect from it? At all events, make your
complaints, gentlemen; let indignant Europe hear them! Complaints from
me would be beneath my dignity and character; I must command, or be
silent.”
Next morning an officer, opening the door, introduced himself, without
farther ceremony, into the Emperor’s room, where I was engaged with him.
He had come, however, with good intentions. He was the captain of one of
the small vessels which had formed our squadron. He was now about to
return to Europe, and came to enquire whether the Emperor had any
commands. Napoleon immediately recurred to the subject of our
conversation on the preceding evening, and, becoming animated by
degrees, gave utterance to sentiments of the loftiest and most energetic
character, which he charged him to communicate to the British
Government. I interpreted what he said in the same spirit and with great
rapidity. The officer seemed astonished at what he heard, and left us
with a promise punctually to fulfil his commission. But he could not
have described the expression, and particularly the tone, of which I was
a witness.—The Emperor, however, directed me to make a memorandum of
what he had said, which the officer must have found very feebly
expressed compared with what he had just heard. The note was as follows:
Memorandum.—“The Emperor desires, by the return of the next vessel, to
receive some account of his wife and son, and to be informed whether the
latter is still living. He takes this opportunity of repeating and
conveying to the British Government the protestations which he has
already made against the extraordinary measures adopted towards him.
“1st. That Government has declared him a prisoner of war. The Emperor is
not a prisoner of war. His letter to the Prince Regent, which he wrote
and communicated to Captain Maitland, before he went on board the
Bellerophon, sufficiently proves, to the whole world, the resolutions
and the sentiments of confidence which induced him freely to place
himself under the English flag.
“The Emperor might, had he pleased, have agreed to quit France only on
stipulated conditions with regard to himself; but he disdained to mingle
personal considerations with the great interests with which his mind was
constantly occupied. He might have placed himself at the disposal of the
Emperor Alexander, who had been his friend, or of the Emperor Francis,
who was his father-in-law. But, confiding in the justice of the English
nation, he desired no other protection than its laws afforded; and,
renouncing public affairs, he sought no other country than that which
was governed by fixed laws, independent of private will.
“2nd. Had the Emperor really been a prisoner of war, the rights which
civilized governments possess over such a prisoner are limited by the
law of nations, and terminate with the war itself.
“3rd. If the English Government considered the Emperor, though
arbitrarily, as a prisoner of war, the right of that government was then
limited by public law, or else, as there existed no cartel between the
two nations during the war, it might have adopted towards him the
principles of savages, who put their prisoners to death. This proceeding
would have been more humane, and more conformable to justice, than that
of sending him to this horrible rock; death inflicted on board the
Bellerophon, in the Plymouth roads, would have been a blessing compared
with the treatment to which he is now subjected.
“We have travelled over the most desolate countries of Europe, but none
is to be compared to this barren rock. Deprived of every thing that can
render life supportable, it is calculated only to renew perpetually the
anguish of death. The first principles of Christian morality, and that
great duty imposed on man to pursue his fate, whatever it may be, may
withhold him from terminating with his own hand a wretched existence;
the Emperor glories in being superior to such a feeling. But if the
British Ministry should persist in their course of injustice and
violence towards him, he would consider it a happiness if they would put
him to death.”
The vessel which sailed for Europe, with this document, was the Redpole,
Captain Desmond.
The reader must pardon the insipid monotony of our complaints: they will
be found to be always the same, no doubt; but let it be remembered how
much more pain must have been felt in repeating them than can possibly
be experienced in their perusal.
MODE OF LIVING AT BRIARS.—CABINET WHICH THE EMPEROR HAD WITH HIM AT
AUSTERLITZ.—THE EMPEROR’S LARGE CABINET.—ITS CONTENTS.—ARTICLES OF
VIRTÙ, LIBELS AGAINST NAPOLEON, &C., LEFT AT THE TUILERIES BY THE
KING.
25th—27th. The Emperor dressed very early; he took a short walk out of
doors; we breakfasted about ten o’clock; he walked again, and then we
proceeded to business. I read to him what he had dictated on the
preceding evening, and which my son had copied in the morning; he
corrected it, and then continued his dictation. We went out again about
five o’clock, and returned at six, the hour appointed for dinner, that
is to say, if the dinner should be brought from the town by that time.
The days were very long, and the evenings still longer. Unfortunately I
did not understand chess; at one time I had an idea of studying it by
night, but where could I find a teacher? I pretended to a little
knowledge of piquet, but the Emperor soon discovered my ignorance: he
gave me credit for my good intentions, yet he gave up playing. Want of
occupation would sometimes lead him to the neighbouring house, where the
young ladies made him play at whist. But his more usual practice was to
remain at table after dinner, and to converse sitting in his chair; for
the room was too small to admit of his walking about.
One evening he ordered a little travelling cabinet to be brought to him,
and, after minutely examining every part of it, he presented it to me,
saying, “I have had it in my possession a long time, I made use of it on
the morning of the battle of Austerlitz. It must go to young Emanuel,”
said he, turning to my son; “when he is thirty or forty years old, we
shall be no more. This will but enhance the value of the gift; he will
say when he shews it, the Emperor Napoleon gave this to my father at St.
Helena.” I received the precious gift with a kind of reverential
feeling, and I preserve it as a valuable relic.
Passing from that to the examining of a large cabinet, he looked over
some portraits of his own family, and some presents which he had
personally received. These consisted of the portraits of Madame, of the
Queen of Naples, of the daughters of Joseph, of his brothers, of the
King of Rome, &c.; an Augustus and a Livia, both exceedingly rare; a
Continence of Scipio and another antique of immense value given to him
by the Pope; a Peter the Great, on a box; another box with a Charles V.;
another with a Turenne; and some, which were in daily use, covered with
a collection of medallions of Cæsar, Alexander, Sylla, Mithridates, &c.
Next came some snuff-boxes, ornamented with his own portrait set in
diamonds. He then looked for one without diamonds, and not finding it,
he called his valet-de-chambre to enquire about it: unfortunately this
portrait still remained in the town along with the greater part of his
effects; I felt mortified at receiving this intelligence, I could not
help thinking that I had been a loser by this mischance.
The Emperor then examined several snuff-boxes which Louis XVIII. had
left on his table at the Tuileries at the time of his precipitate
departure. On one of these were represented, on a black ground, the
portraits of Louis XVI., of the Queen, and of Madame Elizabeth, executed
in paste in imitation of ivory, and fantastically arranged. They formed
three crescents placed back to back in the shape of an equilateral
triangle, and groups of cherubs closely interwoven composed the external
border. Another box presented a water-colour sketch of a hunt, which had
no other claim to merit than the circumstance of its being attributed to
the pencil of the Duchess of Angoulême. A third was surmounted with a
portrait, which appeared to be that of the Countess of Provence. These
three boxes were of simple and even ordinary execution; and could
possess no other value than that which their history attaches to them.
On the Emperor’s arrival in Paris on the evening of the 20th of March,
he found the King’s study precisely in the state in which it had been
used; all his papers still remained on the tables. By the Emperor’s
desire, these tables were pushed into the corners of the apartment, and
others brought. He gave orders that nothing should be touched, intending
to examine the papers at his leisure: and as the Emperor himself quitted
France without returning to the Tuileries, the King must have found his
study and his papers nearly as he had left them.
The Emperor took a hasty glance at some of the papers. He found among
them several letters from the King to M. d’Avary at Madeira, where the
latter died; they were written in the King’s own hand, and had doubtless
been sent back to him. He found also some confidential letters of the
King’s, likewise in his own hand. But how came they there? How had they
been returned to him? That would be difficult to explain. They consisted
of five or six pages, written in very elegant language, and displaying
some sense; but very abstract and metaphysical. In one of them, the
Prince said to the lady whom he addressed:—“_Judge, Madam, how much I
love you; I have left off mourning for your sake._” “And here,” said the
Emperor, “the idea of the mourning was followed up by a succession of
long paragraphs, quite in an academic style.” The Emperor could not
imagine to whom it had been written, or what the _mourning_ alluded to;
I could not assist his conjectures on either of these points.
Two or three days after the Emperor had replaced a certain individual at
the head of a celebrated institution, he found on one of the tables a
memoir from that very person, which, from the terms in which it was
couched with reference to himself and the whole of his family, would
certainly have prevented him from signing the re-appointment.
There were also many other documents of the same nature: but the most
complete records of baseness, deceit, and villany, were found in the
apartments of M. Blacas, grand-master of the wardrobe, and minister of
the household: these were filled with plans, reports, and petitions of
every kind. There were few of these papers in which the writers did not
put themselves forward at the expense of Napoleon, whom they were far
from expecting to return. They formed altogether such a mass that the
Emperor was obliged to appoint a committee of four persons to examine
them; he now thinks he was to blame in not having confided that office
to a single individual, and with such injunctions that he might have
felt confident nothing was suffered to escape. He has since had reason
to believe that these papers might have afforded some salutary hints
respecting the treachery which surrounded him on his return from
Waterloo.
Among the rest there was a long letter from one of the female attendants
of the Princess Pauline. This voluminous letter was expressed in very
coarse language with regard to the princess and her sisters; and
described the Emperor, to whom the writer always alluded under the title
of _that man_, in the worst possible colours. This had not been thought
sufficient; part of it had been erased and interlined by another hand,
in order to bring forward Napoleon in the most scandalous manner; and on
the margin, in the hand of the interlineator, were written the words
_fit to be printed_. A few days more, and this libel would probably have
been published.
An upstart woman, who held a distinguished rank in the state, and who
had been overwhelmed with acts of kindness from the Emperor, wrote in a
great hurry to her friend, another upstart, to acquaint her with the
famous decision of the Senate respecting the forfeiture and proscription
of Napoleon. The letter contained the following: “My dear friend, my
husband has just returned: he is tired to death; but his efforts have
carried it; we are delivered from _that man_, and we shall have the
Bourbons. Thank God, we shall now be real Countesses!” &c.
Among these papers, Napoleon experienced the mortification to meet with
some containing very improper remarks respecting himself personally; and
those too in the very hand writing of individuals who only the day
before had assembled round him, and were already in the enjoyment of his
favours.
The first impulse of his indignation was to determine that they should
be printed, and to withdraw his protection: a second thought restrained
him. “We are so volatile, so inconstant, so easily led away,” said he,
“that, after all, I could not be certain that those very people had not
really and spontaneously come back to my service: in that case, I should
have been punishing them at the very time when they were returning to
their duty. I thought it better to seem to know nothing of the matter,
and I ordered all their letters to be burnt.”
THE EMPEROR COMMENCES THE CAMPAIGN OF EGYPT WITH THE GRAND
MARSHAL.—ANECDOTES OF BRUMAIRE, &C.—LETTEF THE COUNT DE LILLE.—THE
BEAUTIFUL DUCHESS DE GUICHE.
28th—31st. My son and I prosecuted our labours without intermission. His
health, however, began to be affected; he felt a pain in his chest. My
eyes also grew weak: these were really the effects of our excessive
occupation. Indeed, we had gone through an amazing quantity of work: we
had already nearly arrived at the end of the Campaign of Italy. The
Emperor, however, did not yet find that he had sufficient occupation.
Employment was his only resource, and the interest which his first
dictations had assumed furnished an additional motive for proceeding
with them. The Campaign of Egypt was now about to be commenced. The
Emperor had frequently talked of employing the Grand Marshal on this
subject.
Those of our party who were lodged in the town were badly accommodated,
and were dissatisfied at being separated from the Emperor. They were
harassed by the constraint and mortifications to which they were
subjected. I suggested to the Emperor that he should set us all to work
at the same time, and proceed at once with the Campaigns of Italy and
Egypt, the history of the Consulate, the return from the Island of Elba,
&c. The time, I observed, would then pass more quickly; this great work,
the glory of France, would advance more rapidly, and the gentlemen who
resided in the town would be less unhappy. The idea pleased the Emperor,
and from that moment one or two of his suite came regularly every day to
write from his dictation, the transcript of which they brought to him
next morning. They then stayed to dinner, and thus afforded the Emperor
a little more amusement.
We made such arrangements that the Emperor insensibly found himself more
comfortably situated in many respects. A tent, which had been given to
me by the Colonel of the 53rd regiment, was spread out so as to form a
prolongation of the room occupied by the Emperor. His cook took up his
abode at Briars. The table-linen was taken from the trunks, the plate
was set forth, and our first dinner after these preparations was a sort
of _fête_. The evenings, however, always hung heavily on our hands. The
Emperor would sometimes visit the adjoining house; at other times he
would endeavour to leave his chamber to walk; but more frequently he
remained within-doors, and tried to pass the time in conversation until
ten or eleven o’clock. He dreaded retiring to bed too early; for when he
did so, he awoke in the night; and, in order to divert his mind from
sorrowful reflections, he was obliged to rise and read.
One day at dinner the Emperor cast his eyes on one of the dishes of his
own campaign-service, on which the Royal arms had been engraved. “How
they have spoiled this!” he exclaimed in very energetic terms; and he
could not refrain from observing that the King had been in a great hurry
to take possession of the Imperial plate, which he certainly could not
claim as having been taken from him, since it unquestionably belonged to
him, Napoleon; for, he added, that when he ascended the throne he found
not a vestige of royal property. At his abdication he left to the crown
five millions in plate, and between forty and fifty millions in
furniture, which was all purchased with his own money out of his civil
list.
In a conversation one evening, the Emperor related the circumstances
attending the event of Brumaire. I suppress the particulars, because
they were afterwards dictated to General Gourgaud; and a detailed
account of this remarkable affair will be found in the Memoirs.
Sieyes, who was one of the Provisional Consuls along with Napoleon,
astonished to hear his colleague, on the very first conference,
discussing questions relative to finance, administration, the army, law,
and politics, left him, quite disconcerted, and ran to his friends,
saying, “Gentlemen, you have got a master! This man knows every thing,
wills every thing, and can do every thing.”
I was in London at that time, and I told the Emperor that the emigrants
there had formed great hopes and placed much confidence on the events of
the 18th of Brumaire and on his Consulate. Several of us, who had
formerly been acquainted with Madame de Beauharnois, immediately set out
for Paris, hoping, through her means, to exercise some influence, or
give some direction to affairs, which then appeared under a new aspect.
Our general opinion at the time was that the First Consul had waited for
propositions from the French Princes. We grounded this opinion on the
circumstance of his having been so long without manifesting his
intentions respecting them; which, however, he did some time afterwards
in a way the most overwhelming, by means of a proclamation. We
attributed this result to the stupid conduct of the Bishop of Arras, the
counsellor and director of our affairs; who, according to his own
confession, went to work with his eyes shut, and boasted of not having
read a single newspaper for a series of years, ever since they had been
filled, as he said, with the successes and the falsehoods of those
wretches. On the first establishment of the Consulate, some one having
attempted to persuade the Bishop to enter into negotiations with the
Consul, through the mediation of Madame Buonaparte, he rejected the
proposition with indignation, and in language of so coarse and
disgusting a nature as induced the person to tell him that his
expressions were far from being episcopal, and that he certainly had
never learned them from his breviary.
About the same period he made use of some gross invectives against the
Duc de Choiseuil,—and that too at the table of the Prince, where he was
smartly reprimanded for them; and all this was only because the Duke, on
being released from imprisonment at Calais, and escaping death through
the protection of the Consul, concluded his reply to the enquiries made
by the Prince relative to Buonaparte, by protesting that, for his part,
he should never cease to acknowledge his personal gratitude towards him.
To all this the Emperor replied that he had never bestowed a thought on
the Princes; that the observations to which I had alluded proceeded from
one of the other Consuls, and were made without any particular motive;
that we, who were abroad, seemed to have no idea of the opinions of
those at home; and that even if he had been favourably disposed towards
the Princes, it would not have been in his power to carry his intentions
into execution. He had, however, received overtures, about that period,
both from Mittau and London.
The King, he said, wrote him a letter, which was conveyed to him by
Lebrun, who had it from the Abbé de Montesquiou, the secret agent of the
Prince at Paris. This letter, which was written in a very laboured
style, contained the following paragraph: “You delay long to restore me
my throne. It is to be feared that you may allow favourable moments to
escape. You cannot complete the happiness of France without me, nor can
I serve France without you. Hasten, then, and specify yourself the
places which you would wish your friends to possess.”
To this letter the First Consul replied:—“I have received your Royal
Highness’s letter; I have always felt deep interest in your misfortunes
and those of your family. You must not think of appearing in France; you
could not do so without passing over a hundred thousand dead bodies. I
shall, however, be always eager to do every thing that may tend to
alleviate your fate, or enable you to forget your misfortunes.”
The overtures made by the Count d’Artois possessed still more elegance
and address. He commissioned, as the bearer of them, the Duchess de
Guiche, a lady whose fascinating manners and personal graces were
calculated to assist her in the important negotiation. She easily got
access to Madame Buonaparte, with whom all the individuals of the old
Court came easily in contact. She breakfasted with her at Malmaison; and
the conversation turning on London, the emigrants, and the French
Princes, Madame de Guiche mentioned that as she happened a few days
before to be at the house of the Count d’Artois, she had heard some
person ask the Prince what he intended to do for the First Consul, in
the event of his restoring the Bourbons; and that the Prince had
replied:—“I would immediately make him Constable of the kingdom, and
every thing else he might choose. But even that would not be enough: we
would raise on the Carrousel a lofty and magnificent column, surmounted
with a statue of Buonaparte crowning the Bourbons.”
As soon as the First Consul entered, which he did very shortly after
breakfast, Josephine eagerly repeated to him the circumstance which the
Duchess had related. “And did you not reply,” said her husband, “that
the corpse of the First Consul would have been made the pedestal of the
Column?”—The charming Duchess was still present; the beauties of her
countenance, her eyes, and her words, were directed to the success of
her commission. She said she was so delighted she did not know how she
should ever be able sufficiently to acknowledge the favour which Madame
Buonaparte had procured her, of seeing and hearing so distinguished a
man—so great a hero. It was all in vain: the Duchess de Guiche received
orders that very night to quit Paris. The charms of the emissary were
too well calculated to alarm Josephine, to induce her to say any thing
very urgent in her favour, and next day the Duchess was on her way to
the frontier.
It is, however, absolutely false that Napoleon, on his part, at a
subsequent period, made overtures or propositions to the Princes
touching the cession of their rights, or their renunciation of the
Crown; though such statements have been made in some pompous
declarations, profusely circulated through Europe.—How was such a thing
possible?” said the Emperor; “I, who could only reign by the very
principle which excluded them—that of the sovereignty of the people—how
could I have sought to possess through them rights which were proscribed
in their persons! That would have been to proscribe myself. The
absurdity would have been too palpable, too ridiculous; it would have
ruined me for ever in public opinion. The fact is that neither directly
nor indirectly, at home or abroad, did I ever do any thing of the kind:
and this will no doubt, in the course of time, be the opinion of all
persons of judgment, who allow me to have been neither a fool nor a
madman.
“The prevalence of this report, however, induced me to seek to discover
what could have given rise to it, and these are the facts which I
collected:—at the period of the good understanding between France and
Prussia, and while that state was endeavouring to ingratiate herself in
our favour, she caused inquiry to be made whether France would take
umbrage at her allowing the French Princes to remain in the Prussian
territories, to which the French Government answered in the negative.
Emboldened by this reply, Prussia next enquired whether we should feel
any great repugnance to furnish them, through her medium, with an annual
allowance. To this our government also replied in the negative, provided
that Prussia would be responsible for their remaining quiet, and
abstaining from all intrigue. The negotiation of this affair being once
set on foot between the two countries, Heaven knows what the zeal of
some agent, or even the doctrines of the Court of Berlin, which did not
accord with ours, may have proposed. This furnished, no doubt, the
motive and pretext, if indeed any really existed, for the fine letter of
Louis XVIII., to which all the members of his family so ostentatiously
adhered. The French Princes eagerly seized that opportunity of reviving
the interest and attention of Europe, which had been by this time
totally withdrawn from them.”
OCCUPATIONS OF THE DAY.—COUNCIL OF STATE.—DISGRACE
OF PORTALIS.—DISSOLUTION OF THE LEGISLATIVE
BODY, IN 1813.—THE SENATE.
November 1st—4th. Our days now passed away in the same uniformity as
those which we spent on board the vessel. The Emperor summoned me to
breakfast with him about ten or eleven o’clock. That meal being
concluded, after half an hour’s conversation, I read to him what he had
dictated the evening before, and he renewed his dictations. The Emperor
discontinued his practice of dressing as soon as he rose, and walking
before breakfast, which had broken up his day too much, and rendered it
too long. He never dressed now till about four o’clock. He then walked
out, to give the servants an opportunity of making his bed, and cleaning
his room. We walked in the garden, which he particularly liked, on
account of its solitude. I had the little arbour covered with a canvass,
and ordered a table and chairs to be placed in it; and the Emperor
henceforward chose this spot for dictating to such of the gentlemen as
came from the town for that purpose.
In front of Mr. Balcombe’s house there was a walk bordered by some
trees. It was here that the two English soldiers had posted themselves
for the purpose of watching us. They were, however, at length removed,
by desire of Mr. Balcombe, who felt offended at the circumstance on his
own account. Nevertheless, they still continued for some time to move
about, so as to get a sight of the Emperor; either attracted by
curiosity, or acting in obedience to their orders. At length they
entirely disappeared, and the Emperor gradually took possession of this
lower walk. This was quite an acquisition to his domain; and he walked
here every day before dinner. The two young ladies, with their mother,
joined him in this walk, and told him the news. He sometimes returned to
the garden after dinner, when the weather permitted; he was then enabled
to spend the evening without paying a visit to his neighbours, which he
never did when he could avoid it, nor ever till he was satisfied that no
stranger was there, which I always ascertained previously, by peeping
through the window.
In one of his walks, the Emperor conversed much on the subject of the
Senate, the Legislative Body, and particularly the Council of State. The
latter, he said, had been of considerable service to him during the
whole course of his administration. I will here note down some remarks
relative to the Council of State, the more readily, as it was very
little understood at the time in the drawing-rooms of Paris; and as it
does not now exist on the same footing as formerly, I shall insert, as I
proceed, a few lines on its mechanism and prerogatives.
“The Council of State,” said the Emperor, “was generally composed of
well-informed, skilful, and honest men. Fermont and Boulay, for example,
were certainly of this class. Notwithstanding the immense law-suits
which they conducted, and the vast emoluments they enjoyed, I should not
be surprised to learn that they are not now in very flourishing
circumstances.” The Emperor employed the councillors of state
individually in every case, and with advantage. As a whole, they were
his real council—his mind in deliberation, as the ministers were his
mind in execution. At the Council of State were prepared the laws which
the Emperor presented to the Legislative Body, a circumstance which
rendered it altogether one of the elements of the legislative power. In
the Council, the Emperor’s decrees and his rules of public
administration were drawn up; and there the plans of his ministers were
examined, discussed, and corrected.
The Council of State received appeals and pronounced finally on all
administrative judgments; and incidentally on those of all other
tribunals, even those of the Court of Cassation. There were examined
complaints against the ministers, and appeals from the Emperor to the
Emperor better informed. Thus the Council of State, at which the Emperor
uniformly presided, being frequently in direct opposition to the
ministers, or occupied in reforming their acts and errors, naturally
became the point of refuge for persons or interests aggrieved by any
authority whatever. All who were ever present at the meetings of the
council must know with what zeal the cause of the citizens was there
defended. A committee of the Council of State received all the petitions
of the Empire, and laid before the Sovereign those which deserved his
attention.
With the exception of lawyers and persons employed in the
administration, it is surprising how far the rest of society were
ignorant of our political legislation. No one had a correct idea of the
Council of State, of the Legislative Body, or of the Senate. It was
received, for example, as an established fact, that the Legislative
Body, like an assembly of mutes, passively adopted, without the least
opposition, all the laws which were presented to it; that which belonged
to the nature and excellence of the institution was attributed to its
complaisance and servility.
The laws which were prepared in the Council of State were presented by
commissioners, chosen from that council, to a committee of the
Legislative Body appointed to receive them; they were there amicably
discussed, and were often quietly referred back to the Council of State
to receive some modifications. When the two deputations could not come
to an understanding, they proceeded to hold regular conferences, under
the presidency of the Arch-chancellor or the Arch-treasurer; so that,
before these laws reached the Legislative Body, they had already
received the assent of the two opposite parties. If any difference
existed, it was discussed by the two committees, in the presence of the
whole of the Legislative Body, performing the functions of a jury;
which, as soon as its members had become sufficiently acquainted with
the facts, pronounced its decision by a secret scrutiny. Thus every
individual had an opportunity of freely giving his opinion, as it was
impossible to know whether he had put in a black or a white ball. “No
plan,” said the Emperor, “could have been better calculated to correct
our national effervescence and our inexperience in matters of political
liberty.”
The Emperor asked me whether I thought discussion perfectly free in the
Council of State, or whether his presence did not impose a restraint on
the deliberations? I reminded him of a very long debate, during which he
had remained throughout singular in his opinion, and had at last been
obliged to yield. He immediately recollected the circumstance. “Oh,
yes,” said he, “that must have been in the case of a woman of Amsterdam,
who had been tried for her life and acquitted three several times by the
Imperial Courts, but against whom a fresh trial was demanded in the
Court of Cassation.” The Emperor hoped that this happy concurrence of
the law might have exhausted its severity in favour of the prisoner;
that this lucky fatality of circumstances might have turned to her
advantage. It was urged in reply that he possessed the beneficent power
of bestowing pardon; but that the law was inflexible, and must take its
course. The debate was a very long one. M. Muraire spoke a great deal,
and very much to the point; he persuaded every one except the Emperor,
who still remained singular in his opinion, and at length yielded, with
these remarkable words:—“Gentlemen, the decision goes by the majority
here, I remain single, and must yield; but I declare, in my conscience,
that I yield only to forms. You have reduced me to silence, but by no
means convinced me.”
So little was the nature of the Council of State understood by people in
general that it was believed no one dared utter a word in that assembly
in opposition to the Emperor’s opinion. Thus I very much surprised many
persons when I related the fact that, one day, during a very animated
debate, the Emperor, having been interrupted three times in giving his
opinion, turned towards the individual who had rather rudely cut him
short, and said in a sharp tone: “I have not yet done; I beg you will
allow me to continue. I believe every one here has a right to deliver
his opinion.” The smartness of this reply, notwithstanding the solemnity
of the occasion, excited a general laugh, in which the Emperor himself
joined.
“Yet,” said I to him, “the speakers evidently sought to discover what
might be your Majesty’s opinion: they seemed to congratulate themselves
when their views coincided with yours, and to be embarrassed on finding
themselves maintaining opposite sentiments. You were accused, too, of
laying snares for us, in order to discover our real opinion.” However,
when the question was once started, self-love and the warmth of argument
contributed, along with the freedom of discussion which the Emperor
encouraged, to induce every one to maintain his own opinion. “I do not
mind being contradicted,” said the Emperor; “I seek to be informed.
Speak boldly,” he would repeat, whenever the speaker expressed himself
equivocally, or the subject was a delicate one; “tell me all that you
think; we are alone here; we are all _en famille_.”
I have been informed that, under the Consulate, or at the commencement
of the Empire, the Emperor opposed an opinion of one of the members,
and, through the warmth and obstinacy of the latter, the affair at
length amounted absolutely to a personal misunderstanding. Napoleon
commanded his temper, and was silent; but a few days after, seeing his
antagonist at one of the public audiences, he said to him, in a
half-earnest manner, “You are extremely obstinate; and if I were equally
so!——At all events, you are in the wrong to put power to the trial! You
should not be unmindful of human weakness!”
On another occasion, he said in private to one of the members who had
likewise driven him to the utmost extreme, “You must take a little more
care to consult my temper. You lately rather exceeded the bounds of
discretion: you obliged me to have recourse to scratching my forehead.
That is a very ominous sign with me: avoid urging me so far for the
future.”
Nothing could equal the interest which the presence and the words of the
Emperor excited in the Council of State. He presided there regularly
twice a week when he was in town, and then none of us would have been
absent for the whole world.
I told the Emperor that two sittings in particular had made the deepest
impression on me: one entirely of sentiment, relating to matters of
internal police, in which he had expelled one of the members of the
Council; the other of constitutional decision, in which he had dissolved
the Legislative Body.
A religious party was fomenting civil discord in the State, by secretly
circulating bulls and letters from the Pope. They were shewn to a
Councillor of State, appointed to superintend religious worship; and
who, if he did not himself circulate them, at least neither prevented
nor denounced their circulation. This was discovered, and the Emperor
suddenly challenged him with the fact in open Council. “What could have
been your motive, sir?” said he: “were you influenced by your religious
principles? If so, why are you here? I use no control over the
conscience of any man. Did I force you to become my Councillor of State?
On the contrary, you solicited the post as a high favour. You are the
youngest member of the Council, and perhaps the only one who has not
some personal claim to that honour; you had nothing to recommend you but
the inheritance of your father’s services. You took a personal oath to
me; how could your religious feelings permit you openly to violate that
oath, as you have just now done? Speak, however; you are here in
confidence: your colleagues shall be your judges. Your crime is a great
one, sir. A conspiracy for the commission of a violent act is stopped as
soon as we seize the arm that holds the poniard. But a conspiracy to
influence the public mind has no en: it is like a train of gunpowder.
Perhaps, at this very moment, whole towns are thrown into commotion
through your fault!” The Councillor, quite confused, said nothing in
reply: the first word had sufficed to convict him. The members of the
council, to the majority of whom this event was quite unexpected, were
struck with astonishment, and observed profound silence.—“Why,”
continued the Emperor, “did you not, according to the obligation imposed
by your oath, discover to me the criminal and his plots? Am I not at all
times accessible to everyone of you?” “Sire,” said the Councillor, at
length venturing to reply, “he was my cousin.”—“Your crime is then the
greater, sir,” replied the Emperor sharply; “your kinsman could only
have been placed in office at your solicitation: from that moment all
the responsibility devolved on you. When I look upon a man as entirely
devoted to me, as your situation ought to render you, all who are
connected with him, and all for whom he becomes responsible, from that
time require no watching. These are my maxims.” The accused member still
remained silent, and the Emperor continued: “The duties which a
Councillor of State owes to me are immense. You, sir, have violated
those duties, and you hold the office no longer. Begone: let me never
see you here again!” The disgraced Councillor, as he was withdrawing,
passed very near the Emperor: the latter looked at him and said, “I am
sincerely grieved at this, sir, for the services of your father are
still fresh in my memory.” When he was gone, the Emperor added, “I hope
such a scene as this may never be renewed; it has done me too much
harm.—I am not distrustful, but I might become so! I have allowed myself
to be surrounded by every party; I have placed near my person even
emigrants and soldiers of the army of Condé; and, though it was wished
to induce them to assassinate me, yet, to do them justice, they have
continued faithful. Since I have held the reins of government, this is
the first individual employed about me, by whom I have been betrayed.”
And then, turning towards M. Locré, who took notes of the debates of the
Council of State, he said, “write down _betrayed_—do you hear?”
What an interesting collection were those reports of M. Locré! What has
become of them? All that I have here related would be found in them word
for word.
With respect to the dissolution of the Legislative Body, the Council of
State was convoked either on the last day, or the last day but one of
December, 1813. We knew that the debate would be an important one,
without however knowing its object: the crisis was of the most serious
nature, the enemy was entering on the French territory.
“Gentlemen,” said the Emperor, “you are aware of the situation of
affairs, and the dangers to which the country is exposed. I thought it
right, without being obliged to do so, to forward a private
communication on the subject to the Deputies of the Legislative Body. I
wished thus to have associated them with their dearest interests: but
they have converted this act of my confidence into a weapon against me;
that is to say, against the country. Instead of assisting me with all
their efforts, they seek to obstruct mine. Our attitude alone would be
sufficient to check the advance of the enemy, while their conduct
invites him; instead of shewing him a front of brass, they unveil to him
our wounds. They stun me with their clamorous demands for peace, while
the only means to obtain it was to recommend war; they complain of me,
and speak of their grievances; but what time, what place, do they select
for so doing? These are subjects to be discussed in private, and not in
the presence of the enemy. Was I inaccessible to them? Did I ever shew
myself incapable of arguing reasonably? It is time, however, to come to
a resolution: the Legislative Body, instead of assisting me in saving
France, wishes to accelerate her ruin. The Legislative Body has betrayed
its duty—I fulfil mine—I dissolve it.”
He then ordered the reading of a decree, the purport of which was that
two-fifths of the Legislative Body had already gone beyond their power;
that on the first of January another fifth would be in the same
situation, and that consequently the majority of the Legislative Body
would then be composed of members who had no right to be in it; that, in
consideration of these circumstances, it was, from that moment,
prorogued and adjourned, until fresh elections should be made.
After the reading of this document, the Emperor continued: “Such is the
decree which I issue; and were I assured that it would bring the people
of Paris in a crowd to the Tuileries to murder me this very day, I would
still issue it; for such is my duty. When the people of France placed
their destinies in my hands, I took into consideration the laws by which
I was to govern them: had I thought those laws insufficient, I should
not have accepted them. I am not a Louis XVI. Daily vacillations must
not be expected from me. Though I have become Emperor, I have not ceased
to be a citizen. If anarchy were to resume her sway, I would abdicate
and mingle with the crowd to enjoy my share of the sovereignty, rather
than remain at the head of a system in which I should only compromise
all, without being able to protect any one. Besides,” concluded he, “my
determination is conformable to the law; and if every one here will do
his duty this day, I shall be invincible behind the shelter of the law
as well as before the enemy.” But, alas! every one did not perform his
duty!
Contrary to the received opinion, the Emperor was far from being of an
arbitrary temper, and he was so willing to make concessions to his
Council of State that he has frequently been known to submit to
discussion, or even to annul a decision that he had adopted, because one
of the members might afterwards privately advance new arguments, or hint
that the personal opinion of the Emperor had influenced the majority.
Let the chiefs of the sections be referred to on this head.
The Emperor was accustomed to communicate to members of the Institute
every scientific idea that occurred to him, and also to submit his
political ideas to Councillors of State: he often did this with private,
and even secret, views. It was a sure way, he said, to go to the heart
of a question; to ascertain the powers of a man and his political bias;
to take measure of his discretion, &c. I know that in the year XII. he
submitted to three Councillors of State the consideration of a very
extraordinary question: namely, the suppression of the Legislative Body.
It was approved by the majority; but one opposed it strenuously; he
spoke at great length, and much to the purpose. The Emperor, who had
listened to the discussion with great attention and gravity, without
uttering a single word, or suffering any indication of his opinion to
escape him, closed the sitting by observing, “A question of so serious a
nature deserves to be maturely considered; we will resume the subject.”
But it was never again brought forward.
It would have been well had the same precautions been adopted at the
time of the suppression of the Tribunate; for that has always continued
to be a great subject of declamation and reproach. As for the Emperor,
he viewed it merely as the suppression of an expensive abuse, and an
important economical measure.
“It is certain,” said he, “that the Tribunate was absolutely useless,
while it cost nearly half a million; I therefore suppressed it. I was
well aware that an outcry would be raised against the violation of the
law; but I was strong: I possessed the full confidence of the people,
and I considered myself a reformer. This at least is certain, that I did
all for the best. I should, on the contrary, have created the Tribunate,
had I been hypocritical or evil-disposed; for who can doubt that it
would have adopted and sanctioned, when necessary, my views and
intentions? But that was what I never sought after in the whole course
of my administration. I never purchased any vote or decision by
promises, money, or places; and if I distributed favours to ministers,
councillors of state, and legislators, it was because there were things
to give away, and it was natural and even just that they should be dealt
out among those whose avocations brought them in contact with me.
“In my time all constituted bodies were pure and irreproachable: and I
can firmly declare that they acted from conviction. Malevolence and
folly may have asserted the contrary; but without ground. If those
bodies were condemned, it was by persons who knew them not, or wished
not to know them: and the reproaches that were levelled at them, must be
attributed to the discontent or opposition of the time; and above all,
to that spirit of envy, detraction, and ridicule, which is so peculiarly
natural to the French people. The Senate has been much abused; great
outcry has been raised against its servility and baseness; but
declamation is not proof. What was the Senate expected to do? To refuse
conscripts? Was it wished that the committees of personal liberty and of
the liberty of the press should bring disgrace upon the Government? or
that the Senate should do what was done in 1813 by a committee of the
Legislative body? But where did that measure lead us? I doubt whether
the French people are now very grateful for it. The truth is that we
were placed in forced and unnatural circumstances: men of understanding
knew this, and accommodated themselves to the urgency of the moment. It
is not known that, in almost every important measure, the senators,
before they gave their vote, came to communicate to me privately, and
sometimes very decidedly, their objections, and even their refusal; and
they went away convinced either by my arguments or by the necessity and
urgency of affairs. If I never gave publicity to this fact, it was
because I governed conscientiously, and because I despised quackery, and
every thing like it.
“The votes of the Senate was always unanimous, because their conviction
was universal. Endeavours were made at the time to cry up an
insignificant minority, whom the hypocritical praises of malevolence,
together with their own vanity, or some other perversity of character,
excited to harmless opposition. But did the individuals composing that
minority evince, in the last crisis, either sound heads or sincere
hearts? I once more repeat that the career of the Senate was
irreproachable; the moment of its fall was alone disgraceful and
culpable. Without right, without power, and in violation of every
principle, the Senate surrendered France, and accomplished her ruin.
That body was the sport of high intriguers, whose interest it was to
discredit and degrade it, and to ruin one of the great bases of the
modern system. It may be truly said that they succeeded completely; for
I know of no body that ought to be described in history with more
ignominy than the French Senate. However, it is but just to observe that
the stain rests not on the majority, and that among the delinquents
there was a multitude of foreigners, who will at least be in future
indifferent to our honour and interests.”
On the arrival of the Count d’Artois, the Council of State exerted every
effort to attract his attention, and secure his favour. A deputation of
the Council was twice presented to him, and permission was solicited to
send one to meet the King at Compèigne. To this solicitation the
Lieutenant-General of the kingdom replied, that the King would willingly
receive the individual members of the Council; but that the sending of a
deputation was a thing not to be thought of. It is true that the _gros
bonnets_, that is to say the Chiefs of the Section, were absent. All
this agitation had no other object than to insure the payment of their
salary, and, perhaps, the retention of their places. Thus the Council of
State immediately signed its adherence to the resolutions of the Senate,
avoiding, it is true, every expression that might be offensive to
Napoleon; “And you signed it,” said the Emperor. “No, Sire, I declined
signing that adherence, on the ground that it was an egregious piece of
folly to endeavour to remain successively the councillor and the
confidential servant of two antagonists; and that, besides, if the
conqueror were wise, the best pledge that could be offered to his notice
would be fidelity and respect towards the conquered party.”—“And you
reasoned rightly,” observed Napoleon.
5th.—Nearly all our party were assembled round the Emperor in the
garden. Those who were lodged in the town complained much of the
inconvenience and continual vexations to which they were exposed. The
Emperor, for the last fortnight, had laid down the rule of making no
communication on this head, except in writing, which he conceived to be
the manner most suitable and best calculated to produce the wished-for
result. He had drawn up a note on this subject, which should have been
delivered some days ago, but which had been neglected. He alluded
several times to this business, and in a tone of displeasure. All his
indirect arguments and observations applied to the Grand Marshal. The
latter at length took umbrage: for who is not rendered irritable by
misfortune? He expressed himself in rather pointed language. His wife,
who was standing near the garden-gate, despairing of being able to
appease the storm, withdrew. I had now an opportunity of observing how
the impressions produced by this circumstance succeeded each other with
rapidity in the Emperor’s mind. Reason, logic, and it may be added,
sentiment, always prevailed.—“If,” said he, “you did not deliver the
letter because you considered it to be couched in offensive terms, you
performed a duty of friendship; but surely this did not require a delay
of more than twenty-four hours. A fortnight has elapsed without your
mentioning it to me. If the plan was faulty, if the letter was
ill-expressed, why not have told me so? I should have assembled you all
to discuss the matter with me.”
We all stood near the arbour at the extremity of the path, while the
Emperor walked to and fro before us. At a moment, when he had gone to a
little distance from us, and was out of hearing, the Grand Marshal,
addressing himself to me, said:—“I fear I have expressed myself
improperly, and I am sorry for it.”—“We will leave you alone with him,”
said I; “you will soon make him forget the offence.” I accordingly
beckoned the other individuals who were present to leave the garden.
In the evening, the Emperor, conversing with me about the events of the
morning, said:—“It was after we had made it up with the Grand Marshal—It
was before the misunderstanding with the Grand Marshal,”—and other
things of the same sort, which proved that the affair had left no
impression on his heart.
THE GENERALS OF THE ARMY OF ITALY.—ANCIENT ARMIES.—GENGISKAN.—MODERN
INVASIONS.—CHARACTER OF CONQUERORS.
6th.—The Emperor was somewhat unwell, and employed himself in writing in
his chamber. He dictated to me the portraits of the Generals of the army
of Italy—Massena, Augereau, Serrurier, &c. Massena was endowed with
extraordinary courage and firmness, which seemed to increase in excess
of danger. When conquered, he was always as ready to fight the battle
again as though he had been the conqueror. Augereau, on the contrary,
seemed to be tired and disheartened by victory, of which he always had
enough. His person, his manners, and his language, gave him the air of a
bravo. This, however, says the narration, he was far from being, when he
once found himself sated with honours and riches, which he had bestowed
upon himself on every occasion that offered, and by every means in his
power. Serrurier, who retained the manners and severity of an old major
of infantry, was an honest and trustworthy man; but an unfortunate
general, &c.
Among the various subjects of the day’s conversation, I note down what
the Emperor said respecting the armies of the Ancients. He asked whether
the accounts of the great armies mentioned in history were to be
credited. He was of opinion that those statements were false and absurd.
He placed no faith in the descriptions of the innumerable armies of the
Carthaginians in Sicily. “Such a multitude of troops,” he observed,
“would have been useless in so inconsiderable an enterprise; and if
Carthage could have assembled such a force, a still greater one would
have been raised in Hannibal’s expedition, which was of much greater
importance, but in which not more than forty or fifty thousand men were
employed.” He did not believe the accounts of the millions of men
composing the forces of Darius and Xerxes, which might have covered all
Greece, and which would doubtless have been subdivided into a multitude
of partial armies. He even doubted the whole of that brilliant period of
Greek history; and he regarded the famous Persian war only as a series
of those undecided actions, in which each party claims the victory.
Xerxes returned triumphant, after taking, burning, and destroying
Athens; and the Greeks exulted in their victory, because they had not
surrendered at Salamis. “With regard to the pompous accounts of the
conquests of the Greeks, and the defeat of their numberless enemies, it
must be recollected,” observed the Emperor, “that the Greeks, who wrote
them, were a vain and hyperbolical people; and that no Persian chronicle
has ever been produced to set our judgment right by contrary
statements.”
But the Emperor attached credit to Roman history, if not in its details,
at least in its results; because these were facts as clear as day-light.
He also believed the descriptions of the armies of Gengiskan and
Tamerlane, however numerous they are said to have been; because they
were followed by gregarious nations, who, on their part, were joined by
other wandering tribes as they advanced; “and it is not impossible,”
observed the Emperor, “that Europe may one day end thus. The revolution
produced by the Huns, the cause of which is unknown, because the tract
is lost in the desert, may at a future period be renewed.”
The situation of Russia is admirably calculated to assist her in
bringing about such a catastrophe. She may collect at will numberless
auxiliaries, and scatter them over Europe. The wandering tribes of the
north will be the better disposed and the more impatient to engage in
such enterprises, in proportion as their imaginations have been fired,
and their avarice excited, by the successes of those of their countrymen
who lately visited us.
The conversation next turned on conquests and conquerors; and the
Emperor observed that, to be a successful conqueror, it was necessary to
be ferocious, and that, if he had been such, he might have conquered the
world. I presumed to dissent from this opinion, which was doubtless
expressed in a moment of vexation. I represented that he, Napoleon, was
precisely a proof of the contrary; that he had not been ferocious, and
yet had conquered the world; and that, with the manners of modern times,
ferocity would certainly never have raised him to so high a point. I
added that, at the present day, terror could never subject us to the
control of an individual man; and that dominion was to be secured only
by good laws, joined to greatness of character, and that degree of
energy, which is proof against every trial, in him who is charged with
the execution of the laws. These, I affirmed, were precisely the causes
of Napoleon’s success, and of the submission and obedience of the people
over whom he ruled.
The Convention was ferocious, and inspired terror: it was submitted to,
but could not be endured. Had the power been vested in an individual,
his overthrow would soon have been accomplished. But the Convention was
a hydra, yet how many attempts were hazarded for its destruction!—how
many dangers did it escape as if by miracle! It was reduced to the
necessity of burying itself amidst its triumphs.
For a conqueror to be ferocious, with success, he must of necessity
command troops who are themselves ferocious, and he must wield dominion
over unenlightened people. In this respect Russia possesses an immense
superiority over the rest of Europe. She has the rare advantage of
possessing a civilized government, and barbarous subjects. There,
information directs and commands, while ignorance executes and destroys.
A Turkish Sultan could not long govern any enlightened European nation;
the empire of knowledge would be too strong for his power.
Speaking on another subject, the Emperor observed that, if the French
people had less energy than the Romans, they at least evinced greater
decorum. We should not have killed ourselves, as the Romans did under
the first Emperors; but at the same time we should have afforded no
examples of the turpitude and servility that marked the later periods of
the Roman empire. “Even in our most corrupt days,” said he, “our
baseness was not without certain restrictions: courtiers, whom the
sovereign could have prevailed on to do any thing in his own palace,
would have refused to bend the knee to him at his levee.”
I have already mentioned that we had with us scarcely any document
relative to French affairs during the Emperor’s time. The books that had
been brought among his effects were merely a few classics which he
carried about with him in all his campaigns. I received from Major
Hudson, resident in the island, a political compendium from 1793 to
1807, entitled “The Annual Register,” which contains the succession of
political events during each year, together with some of the most
important official documents. In our destitute circumstances this was a
valuable acquisition.