25th.—After dinner the Emperor read Œdipus, which he admired
exceedingly. He next took up Brutus, of which he gave us a very
remarkable analysis. He observed that Voltaire seemed not to have
entered into the right feeling for his subject. “The Romans,” said he,
“were guided by patriotism, as we are by honour. Voltaire has not
portrayed the real sublimity of Brutus, sacrificing his sons for the
welfare of his country, and in spite of the pangs of paternal affection.
He has made him a monster of pride, decreeing the death of his children
for the sake of preserving his power, his name, and his celebrity. The
other characters of the tragedy, he added, are equally misconceived.
Tullia is described as a fury who takes advantage of her situation; and
not as a woman of tender sentiment, who might be led into crime by
seduction and dangerous influence.”
FRENCH COLONY ON THE BANKS OF THE RIVER ST. LAWRENCE.—THE EMPEROR MIGHT
HAVE PROCEEDED TO AMERICA.—CARNOT AT THE TIME OF THE ABDICATION.
26th.—The Emperor sent for me about two o’clock. He was not well and was
much fatigued. We looked over a few newspapers.
In these papers it was stated that Joseph Bonaparte had made extensive
purchases of land on the north of the State of New York, on the river
St. Lawrence, and that a great number of French families had grouped
round him and were soon likely to form a numerous colony. It was
remarked that the spot seemed to have been fixed on with a view to the
interests of the United States, and in opposition to the policy of
England. In the south, in Louisiana, for example, the refugees could
have looked forward only to the enjoyment of repose and domestic
happiness; but in their present situation they must soon become a
natural attraction to the population of Canada, which was already
French, and they must ultimately form a strong barrier, or even a
hostile point against the English, who yet possess the dominion of that
part of America. The Emperor said that the establishment would in a few
years present a numerous population, distinguished for all sorts of
useful knowledge. If they do their duty, said he, they will transmit
from their colony excellent writings, victorious refutations of the
system which now triumphs in Europe. When at the Island of Elba, the
Emperor had entertained a similar idea.
He then proceeded to calculate all that he had given to the different
members of his family; and observed that they might have amassed
considerable sums of money. For his part, he said, he had nothing; if in
the course of time, he should find himself in possession of any property
in Europe, he should be wholly indebted for it to the foresight and
contrivance of some of his friends.
If the Emperor had gone to America, he intended to have collected all
his relatives around him; and he supposed that they might have realized
at least forty millions of francs. This point would have become the
nucleus of a national union, a second France. Before the conclusion of a
year, the events of Europe would have collected around him a hundred
millions of francs and sixty thousand individuals, most of them
possessing wealth, talent, and information. The Emperor said that he
should have liked to realize that dream; it would have been a renewal of
his glory.
“America,” continued he, “was in all respects our proper asylum. It is
an immense continent, possessing the advantages of a peculiar system of
freedom. If a man is troubled with melancholy, he may get into a coach,
and drive a thousand leagues, enjoying all the way the pleasure of a
common traveller. In America you may be on a footing of equality with
every one; you may, if you please, mingle with the crowd, without
inconvenience, retaining your own manners, your own language, your own
religion, &c.”
He said it was impossible that he could henceforth consider himself as a
private man in Europe; his name was too popular throughout the
continent. He was in some way or other connected with every people, and
belonged to every country.
“As for you,” said he to me smiling, “your fate seemed naturally to lead
you to the shores of the Oronooko or to Mexico, where the recollection
of the good Las Cases is not yet obliterated. You would there have
enjoyed all you could have wished. The destinies of some men seem to be
marked out. Gregoire, for instance, has only to go to Hayti, and he
would immediately be made a Pope.”
At the time of the Emperor’s second abdication, an American in Paris
wrote to him as follows:—"While you were at the head of a nation, you
could perform any miracle, you might conceive any hopes; but now you can
do nothing more in Europe. Fly to the United States! I know the hearts
of the leading men and the sentiments of the people of America. You will
there find a second country and every source of consolation." The
Emperor would not listen to such a suggestion. He might, doubtless, by
dint of speed or disguise, have gained Brest, Nantes, Bordeaux, or
Toulon, and in all probability have reached America; but he conceived
that either disguise or flight would be derogatory from his dignity. He
thought himself bound to prove to all Europe his full confidence in the
French people, and their extreme attachment to him, by passing through
his dominions at such a crisis, merely in the quality of a private man,
and unattended by any escort. But what above all influenced him at that
critical moment was the hope that impending dangers would open the eyes
of his subjects, that they would rally around him, and that he might
save the country. This hope caused him to linger at Malmaison, and to
postpone his departure, after he had reached Rochefort. If he is now at
St. Helena, he owes his captivity to this sentiment, of which he was
unable to divest himself. Subsequently, when he had no other resource
than to accept the hospitality of the Bellerophon, it was not perhaps
without a feeling of inward satisfaction that he found himself, by the
force of circumstances, irresistibly led to fix his abode in England,
where he might enjoy the happiness of being still but little removed
from France. He was well aware that he could not be free in England; but
he hoped to be heard, and then a chance would at least have been open to
the impressions which he might create. “The English Ministers,” said he,
“who are the enemies of their country, and who have sold her to
foreigners, thought they had too much cause to dread my presence. They
conceived that my opinion in London would be more powerful than the
whole Opposition: that it would have compelled them either to change
their system or resign their places; and, to keep themselves in place,
they basely sacrificed the true interests of their country, the triumph,
the glory of her laws, the peace of the world, the welfare of Europe,
the happiness and the benedictions of posterity.”
In the course of conversation during the evening, the Emperor once more
adverted to Waterloo, and described his anxiety and indecision before he
came to a final resolution respecting his abdication. I pass over a
multitude of details, lest I should be led into repetition; I note down
only the following:—
The Emperor’s speech to his ministers was the literal prophecy of all
that subsequently took place. Carnot was the only one who seemed to take
a right view of the case. He opposed the abdication, which he said was a
death-blow to France; and he wished that we should defend ourselves even
to annihilation. Carnot was the only one who maintained this opinion;
all the rest were for the abdication. That measure was determined, and
Carnot, covering his face with his hands, burst into tears.
At another moment the Emperor said, “I am not a God: I cannot do all by
my own single efforts: I cannot save the nation without the help of the
nation. I am certain that the people then entertained these sentiments,
and that they are now suffering undeservedly. It was the host of
intriguers, and men possessing titles and offices, who were really
guilty. That which misled them, and which ruined me, was the mild system
of 1814, the benignity of the restoration; they looked for a repetition
of this lenity. The change of the Sovereign had become a mere joke. They
all calculated on remaining just as they had been before, whether I
should be succeeded by Louis XVIII. or any other. These stupid, selfish,
and egotistical men looked upon the great event as merely a competition,
about which they cared but little; and they thought only of their
individual interests, when a deadly war of principles was about to be
commenced. And why should I disguise the truth? There were among the
individuals whom I had elevated, and by whom I was surrounded, a number
of proud ...!” Then, turning to me, he added, “I am not alluding to your
Faubourg St. Germain, with respect to which the matter was totally
different, and for which some excuse may be found. During my first
reverses in 1814, the greatest traitors were not the persons connected
with that party, of whom I had no great cause to complain; and, who,
therefore, on my return, were not bound to me by any particular ties of
gratitude. I had abdicated, the King was restored. They had but returned
to their old attachments, and had only renewed their allegiance.”