/—————- ———— /—————- ————
Inhabitants. Condemned to Years. Inhabitants. Condemned to
death. death.
34,000,000 882 {1801} 16,000,000 3,400
42,000,000 392 {1811} 17,000,000 6,400
It is obvious from this statement, that in the year 1801, in France,
twenty-six out of a million of inhabitants were condemned to death;
and that in 1811, ten years after, the number of condemned had
diminished two-thirds, leaving the proportion of only nine to a
million.
In England, on the contrary, where, in 1801, the number of criminals
condemned to death was 212 out of a million of inhabitants, the amount
increased by more than one half; there being in 1811, 376 out of a
million.
It is worthy of observation that the condemnations in England,
compared with those in France, were as 376 to 9, or as 42 to 1.
The report of the state of mendicity in France, compared with that of
the parish poor in England, also presents a prodigious difference: the
French list, in 1812, exhibiting only 30,000 individuals out of 43
millions of inhabitants; while in England, in the same year, a fourth
of the population, or 4,250,000 poor, were thrown upon the
parishes.—(_Montvéran_.)
“Look at the United States, where, without any apparent force or effort,
every thing goes on prosperously; every one is happy and contented: and
this is because the public wishes and interests are in fact the ruling
power. Place the same government at variance with the will and interests
of its inhabitants, and you would soon see what disturbance, trouble,
and confusion, and above all, what an increase of crimes, would ensue.
“When I acquired the supreme direction of affairs, it was wished that I
might become a Washington. Words cost nothing; and no doubt those who
were so ready to express the wish did so without any knowledge of times,
places, persons, or things. Had I been in America, I would willingly
have been a Washington, and I should have had little merit in so being;
for I do not see how I could reasonably have acted otherwise. But had
Washington been in France, exposed to discord within, and invasion from
without, I would have defied him to have been what he was in America; at
least, he would have been a fool to attempt it, and would only have
prolonged the existence of evil. For my own part, I could only have been
a _Crowned Washington_. It was only in a congress of kings, in the midst
of kings, yielding or subdued, that I could become so. Then and there
alone, I could successfully display Washington’s moderation,
disinterestedness, and wisdom. I could not reasonably attain to this but
by means of the _universal Dictatorship_. To this I aspired; can that be
thought a crime? Can it be believed that to resign this authority would
have been beyond the power of human nature? Sylla, glutted with crimes,
dared to abdicate, pursued by public execration! What motive could have
checked me, who would have been followed only by blessings?——But it
remained for me to conquer at Moscow!—How many will hereafter regret my
disasters and my fall!—But to require prematurely of me that sacrifice,
for which the time had not arrived, was a vulgar absurdity; and for me
to have proclaimed or promised it, would have been taken for hypocrisy
and quackery: that was not my way.——I repeat, it remained for me to
conquer at Moscow!——”
On another occasion, pausing before Toby, he said:—“What, after all, is
this poor human machine? There is not one whose exterior form is like
another, or whose internal organisation resembles the rest! And it is by
disregarding this truth that we are led to the commission of so many
errors! Had Toby been a Brutus, he would have put himself to death: if
an Æsop, he would now, perhaps, have been the Governor’s adviser; if an
ardent and zealous Christian, he would have borne his chains in the
sight of God, and blessed them. As for poor Toby, he endures his
misfortunes very quietly; he stoops to his work, and spends his days in
innocent tranquillity.” Then, after looking at him for a few moments in
silence, he turned away and said: “Certainly it is a great step from
poor Toby to a King Richard!——And yet,” continued he, as he walked
along, “the crime is not the less atrocious; for this man, after all,
had his family, his happiness, and his liberty; and it was a horrible
act of cruelty to bring him here to languish in the fetters of slavery,”
Then, suddenly stopping short, he added:—“But I read in your eyes that
you think he is not the only example of the sort at St. Helena!” And
whether he felt offended at being placed on a parallel with Toby,
whether he thought it necessary to raise my spirits, or whatever else
might be his reason, he went on with dignity and animation: “My dear Las
Cases, there is not the least resemblance here: if the outrage is of a
higher class, the victims also possess very different resources. We have
not been exposed to corporeal sufferings; or if that had been attempted,
we have souls to disappoint our tyrants! Our situation may even have its
charms! The eyes of the universe are fixed upon us! We are martyrs in an
immortal cause! Millions of human beings are weeping for us: our country
sighs, and glory mourns our fate! We here struggle against the
oppression of the gods, and the prayers of nations are for us!”—After a
pause of a few seconds, he continued:—“Besides, this is not the source
of my real sufferings! If I considered only myself, perhaps I should
have reason to rejoice! Misfortunes are not without their heroism and
their glory! Adversity was wanting to my career! Had I died on the
throne, enveloped in the dense atmosphere of my power, I should to many
have remained a problem; but now misfortune will enable all to judge of
me without disguise.“
ORIGIN OF THE CORPS OF GUIDES.—ANOTHER DANGER
INCURRED BY NAPOLEON.—THE GERMAN OFFICER.
December 1st—3rd. Many incidents fill up this interval: some I reject as
unnecessary, some it is proper I should withhold. I here note down only
a few anecdotes of the General-in-chief of the Army of Italy.
After the passage of the Mincio, Napoleon, having concerted all his
plans, and pursued the enemy in every direction, entered a castle on the
left bank of the river. He was troubled with the head-ache, and he used
a foot-bath. A large detachment of the enemy, in great confusion,
arrived, having ascended the river as far as the castle. Napoleon had
only a few persons with him; the sentinel on duty at the gate had just
time to close it, exclaiming, “To arms!” and the General of the Army of
Italy, in the hour of victory, was compelled to escape through the back
gates of the garden, with but one boot on. Had he been made prisoner,
before his reputation was established, the acts of genius which had
marked the commencement of his career would, perhaps, by the common run
of mankind, have been considered merely as fortunate and blameable
enterprises. The danger which the French General had just escaped (a
circumstance which, through his method of operations, was likely often
to recur) was the origin of the guides appointed to guard his person.
These guides have since been introduced in other armies.
In the same campaign, Napoleon incurred another imminent risk:—Wurmser,
who had been compelled to throw himself into Mantua, and who was
debouching suddenly on an open plain, learned from an old woman, that,
only a few moments before his arrival, the French General, with but a
few followers, had stopped at her door, and that he had fled within
sight of the Austrians. Wurmser immediately despatched parties of
cavalry in every direction, calculating with certainty on the precious
capture. “But,” said the Emperor, “I must do him this justice, he gave
particular orders that I should not be killed or harmed in any way.”
Fortunately for the young General, his happy star and the swiftness of
his horse preserved him.
The new system of military operations practised by Napoleon disconcerted
every one. The campaign was scarcely opened, when Lombardy was inundated
with troops in every direction, and the French approached Mantua
pell-mell with the enemy. The General-in-chief, when in the
neighbourhood of Pizzighitone, met a great fat German Captain or
Colonel, who had been made prisoner. Napoleon took a fancy to question
him, without being known, and enquired how affairs were going on. “Very
badly,” replied the officer; “I know not how it will end; but no one
seems to understand what is doing; we have been sent to fight a young
blockhead, who attacks you on the right and the left, in front and in
rear, so that there is no knowing how to proceed. This mode of carrying
on war is intolerable; and for my part, I am very glad to have done with
it....”
Napoleon used to relate that, after one of his great actions in Italy,
he passed over the field of battle with two or three other persons,
before the dead bodies had been interred. “In the deep silence of a
beautiful moonlight night,” said the Emperor, “a dog, leaping suddenly
from beneath the clothes of his dead master, rushed upon us, and then
immediately returned to his hiding-place, howling piteously. He
alternately licked his master’s face, and again flew at us; thus, at
once soliciting aid and seeking revenge. Whether owing to my own
particular turn of mind at the moment,” continued the Emperor, “the
time, the place, or the action itself, I know not; but certainly no
incident on any field of battle ever produced so deep an impression on
me. I involuntarily stopped to contemplate the scene. This man, thought
I, perhaps has friends in the camp or in his company; and here he lies
forsaken by all except his dog! What a lesson Nature here presents
through the medium of an animal! What a strange being is man! and how
mysterious are his impressions; I had, without emotion, ordered battles
which were to decide the fate of the army; I had beheld, with tearless
eyes, the execution of those operations, by which numbers of my
countrymen were sacrificed; and here my feelings were roused by the
mournful howling of a dog! Certainly at that moment I should have been
easily moved by a suppliant enemy; I could very well imagine Achilles
yielding up the body of Hector at the sight of Priam’s tears.”
WAR.—PRINCIPLES.—APPLICATION.—OPINIONS ON
SEVERAL GENERALS.
4th—5th. My eyes had become so bad that I was obliged to suspend my
occupation: I had nearly lost my sight in the Campaign in Italy.
For some time past a sensible change had taken place in the weather. We
knew nothing about the order of the seasons. As the sun passed twice
over our heads in the course of the last year, we said we ought, at
least, to have two summers. Every thing was totally different from what
we had been accustomed to; and, to complete our embarrassments, we were
obliged, being now in the southern hemisphere, to make all our
calculations in a manner quite the reverse of that which we had
practised in Europe. It rained frequently, the air was very damp, and it
grew colder than before. The Emperor could no longer go out in the
evening; he was continually catching cold and did not sleep well. He was
obliged to give up taking his meals beneath the tent, and he had them
served up in his own chamber. Here he found himself better; but he could
not stir from his seat.
Our conversation continued after the dinner was removed from table.
To-day the Emperor attacked General Gourgaud on the elements and first
exercises of artillery. The General had recently belonged to that
department of the service, and all his professional science was quite
fresh. The discussion was very curious, and was maintained with great
spirit. Napoleon never proved himself to be the weaker party: one might
have been tempted to believe that he had just passed his examination at
the academy.
The conversation then turned on war and great commanders. “The fate of a
battle,” observed the Emperor, “is the result of a moment—of a thought:
the hostile forces advance with various combinations, they attack each
other and fight for a certain time; the critical moment arrives, a
mental flash decides, and the least reserve accomplishes the object.” He
spoke of Lützen, Bautzen, &c.; and afterwards, alluding to Waterloo, he
said, that had he followed up the idea of turning the enemy’s right, he
should easily have succeeded; he, however, preferred piercing the
centre, and separating the two armies. But all was fatal in that
engagement; it even assumed the appearance of absurdity: nevertheless,
he ought to have gained the victory. Never had any of his battles
presented less doubt to his mind; nor could he now account for what had
happened. Grouchy, he said, had lost himself; Ney appeared bewildered,
and his countenance at once expressed the remorse he felt for the
transactions of Fontainebleau and of Lons-le-Saunier; d’Erlon was
useless; in short, the generals were no longer themselves. If, in the
evening, he had been aware of Grouchy’s position, and could have thrown
himself upon it, he might, in the morning, with the help of that fine
reserve, have repaired his ill success, and perhaps, even have destroyed
the allied forces by one of those miracles, those turns of Fortune,
which were familiar to him, and which would have surprised no one. But
he knew nothing of Grouchy; and besides, it was not easy to act with
decision amongst the wrecks of the army. It would be difficult to
imagine the condition of the French army on that disastrous night; it
was a torrent dislodged from its bed, sweeping away every thing in its
course.
Turning to another subject, he said that the dangers incurred by the
military commanders of antiquity were not to be compared with those
which attend the generals of modern times. There is, he observed, no
position in which a general may not now be reached by artillery; but
anciently a general ran no risk, except when he himself charged, which
Cæsar did only twice or thrice.
“We rarely,” said he, “find, combined together, all the qualities
necessary to constitute a great general. The object most desirable is
that a man’s judgment should be in equilibrium with his personal
courage; that raises him at once above the common level.” This is what
the Emperor termed being _well squared_, both by the base and
perpendicular.
“If,” continued he, “courage be a general’s predominating quality, he
will rashly embark in enterprises above his conceptions; and, on the
other hand, he will not venture to carry his ideas into effect, if his
character or courage be inferior to his judgment.”
He then cited the example of the Viceroy, whose sole merit consisted in
this equilibrium of character, which, however, sufficed to render him a
very distinguished man.
Physical and moral courage then became the subject of discourse. “With
respect to physical courage,” the Emperor said, “it was impossible for
Murat and Ney not to be brave, but no men ever possessed less judgment;
the former in particular. As to moral courage,” observed he, “I have
very rarely met with _the two o’clock in the morning courage_. I mean,
unprepared courage, that which is necessary on an unexpected occasion,
and which, in spite of the most unforeseen events, leaves full freedom
of judgment and decision.” He did not hesitate to declare that he was
himself eminently gifted with this _two o’clock in the morning_ courage,
and that, in this respect, he had met with but few persons who were at
all equal to him. He remarked that an incorrect idea was generally
formed of the strength of mind necessary to engage in one of those great
battles on which depends the fate of an army or nation, or the
possession of a throne. “Generals,” added he, “are rarely found eager to
give battle; they choose their positions; establish themselves; consider
their combinations; but then commences their indecision: nothing is so
difficult, and at the same time so important, as to know when to
decide.”
He next proceeded to notice several generals, and condescended to reply
to some questions that were asked him. “Kleber,” said he, “was endowed
with the highest talent; but he was merely the man of the moment: he
pursued glory as the only road to enjoyment; but he had no national
sentiment, and he could, without any sacrifice, have devoted himself to
foreign service.” Kleber had commenced his youthful career among the
Prussians, to whom he continued much attached. Dessaix possessed, in a
very superior degree, the important equilibrium above described. Moreau
scarcely deserved to be placed in the first rank of generals; in him
nature had left her work unfinished; he possessed more instinct than
genius. In Lannes, courage at first predominated over judgment; but the
latter was every day gaining ground, and approaching the equilibrium. He
had become a very able commander at the period of his death. “I found
him a dwarf,” said the Emperor, “but I lost him a giant.” In another
general, whom he named, judgment was, on the contrary, superior to
courage; it could not be denied that he was a brave man; but he, like
many others, did not forget the chance of the cannon-ball.
Speaking of military ardour and courage, the Emperor said, “I know the
depth, or what I call the _draught of water_, of all my generals. Some,”
added he, joining action to his words, “will sink to the waist, some to
the chin, others over head; but the number of the latter is very small,
I assure you.” Suchet, he said, was one whose courage and judgment had
been surprisingly improved. Massena was a very superior man, and, by a
strange peculiarity of temperament, he possessed the desired equilibrium
only in the heat of battle; it was created in the midst of danger. “The
generals,” finally observed the Emperor, “who seemed destined to rise to
future distinction were Gerard, Clausel, Foy, Lamarque, &c. These were
my new marshals.”
SITUATION OF THE SPANISH PRINCES AT VALENCEY.—THE
POPE AT FONTAINEBLEAU.—REFLECTIONS, &C.
6th.—The Emperor, after dictating to me this morning, was successively
engaged with the other gentlemen, with whom he prolonged his walk for
some time. When they withdrew, I followed him into the lower path: he
was dull and silent, and his countenance appeared somewhat harsh and
ruffled. “Well,” said he, as we were returning to dinner, “we shall have
sentinels under our windows at Longwood. They wished to force me to have
a foreign officer at my table and in my drawing-room. I cannot mount my
horse without being accompanied by an officer; in short, we cannot stir
a step under pain of being insulted!...” I replied that this was another
drop of sorrow added to the bitter cup which we were doomed to drink to
his past glory and power; but that his philosophy was sufficient to defy
the malice of his enemies, and to make them blush for their brutality in
the face of the whole world. I ventured to remark that the Spanish
Princes at Valencey, and the Pope at Fontainebleau, had never
experienced such treatment. “Certainly not,” resumed he; “the Princes
hunted and gave balls at Valencey, without being physically aware of
their chains; they experienced respect and courtesy at all hands. Old
King Charles IV. removed from Compiegne to Marseilles, and from
Marseilles to Rome, whenever he wished. And yet how different are those
places from this! The Pope at Fontainebleau, whatever may have been the
reports circulated in the world, was treated in the same manner. And yet
how many persons, in spite of all the indulgences he enjoyed, refused to
be appointed to guard him!—a circumstance which gave me no offence, for
I thought it perfectly natural. Such employments are subject to the
influence of delicacy of feeling; and our European manners require that
power should be limited by honour.” He observed that, for his own part,
as a private man and an officer, he should without hesitation have
refused to guard the Pope, whose removal to France, he added, had never
been ordered by him.—I manifested great surprise.—“You are astonished,”
said he: “you did not know this? But it is nevertheless true, as well as
many other similar facts, which you will learn in course of time. But,
with reference to the subject on which we have just been speaking, it is
necessary to distinguish the conduct of the sovereign, who acts
collectively, from that of the private man, whose sentiments are without
constraint. Policy permits, nay, frequently demands, from the one, what
would be unpardonable in the other.” The hour of dinner, by introducing
various subjects of conversation, diverted his melancholy, and
cheerfulness finally prevailed.
Meanwhile the Emperor seriously determined to quit his present wretched
abode, whatever inconvenience his new residence might present. On going
to pass the remainder of the evening with our host, the Emperor directed
me to present him a box bearing his cypher, and to tell him he was sorry
for all the trouble he had occasioned to him.