11th—12th. The produce of the sale of a portion of plate, amounting to
6000 francs, was this day received. This sum the Emperor considered
indispensible to make up our deficiencies at the expiration of every
month; and he ordered the sale to be repeated regularly.
The Emperor continues very ill, and is in very low spirits. To-day he
did not leave his room until dinner-time. He conversed very little, and
did not apply himself to any kind of occupation. I remained with him the
greater part of the day. He spoke frequently of the situation in which
we stood with respect to the Governor, and made some very remarkable
observations on that subject. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
After dinner he mentioned a dream which he had had during the night. A
lady with whom he had been but little acquainted (Madame Clarke, Duchess
de Feltre) appeared to him in his dream, and told him she was dead, at
the same time adding several observations which were expressed in
language perfectly connected and intelligible. “Every thing was so clear
and distinct,” said the Emperor, “that it has made a forcible impression
on me; so much so that if I were really to hear of the death of the
Duchess de Feltre, I must confess that my established ideas would be
shaken; and perhaps,” said he, smiling and looking at one of the
company, “I too should become a believer in dreams and apparitions.”
The Emperor ate little; his spirits were depressed, and he was evidently
very ill. He retired almost immediately, and his manner affected us
greatly. We could not help remarking how much he was altered.
PRIVATIONS TO WHICH THE EMPEROR IS SUBJECTED.—HIS
CLAIMS ON PRINCE EUGENE.
13th.—The Emperor came to me about ten o’clock. He looked in at my
room-door, and blamed me for not having risen earlier. He found me using
the foot-bath for I was not well. I soon joined him beneath the tent,
where he wished to breakfast. He told me he had given orders for drawing
up some notes relative to the new restrictions, to prevent condemnation
being passed on us without a sort of responsibility being attached to
those who passed the sentence. He then proceeded to calculate the lots
of plate which remain to be sold, and the period during which they would
serve to maintain us. I repeated the offers which I have already several
times made, telling him that it was hard he should be reduced to the
necessity of disposing of his plate; but he replied,—“My dear Las Cases,
under whatever circumstances I may be placed, those articles of luxury
are never of any importance to me; and as far as regards others, that is
to say, as far as regards the public, simplicity will always be my best
ornament.” He added that he could, after all, claim the assistance of
Prince Eugène; and that he was even inclined to write to him for the
loans which would be necessary for his subsistence when the plate should
be exhausted. He also expressed his intention of commissioning Eugène to
forward to him some important books which he wished to have sent from
London, together with a small quantity of choice wine, which it was
necessary he should take as a medicine. “This commission for wine,” said
he, will make our enemies in Europe say that we think of nothing here
but eating and drinking.” He said that he should feel no hesitation in
addressing himself on this subject to Eugène, who owed to him every
thing he possessed; and that it would be insulting the character of the
Prince to doubt his readiness to serve him, particularly as he had,
besides, a legal claim upon him for about ten or twelve millions.
While we were at breakfast, the Emperor sent for the Pole, who is soon
to leave us. After breakfast he wished to employ himself in reading or
dictating; but he felt very drowsy, and fell asleep several times. He
retired to his chamber, to lie down for a while, desiring me to attend
him at one o’clock for his English lesson. But when the appointed hour
arrived, he was still in the same state of drowsiness; and he only
succeeded in rousing himself by taking a bath, in which, according to
custom, he remained for a long time. It is surprising that this
practice, joined to that of taking very hot baths, does not prove
injurious to him.
The Emperor ate but little dinner, and he complained of not enjoying
regular and sound rest. He conversed for some time on the subject of
balloons, and laughed at those biographical notices which represent him
as having forced himself, sword in hand, into the balloon of the
military school. He mentioned, as a sort of prodigy, the circumstance of
the balloon which ascended at his coronation having fallen, in the space
of a few hours, in the neighbourhood of Rome, bearing intelligence of
the ceremony to the inhabitants of that city.
The Emperor took up Don Quixote; but he closed the book in about half an
hour: he cannot now apply himself to reading for a longer interval. His
health visibly declines. He often observes to me that we are both
growing very old, and that he is much the older of the two: these words
tell a great deal.
THE REQUIRED DECLARATION IS SENT TO THE GOVERNOR.—THE EMPEROR REMARKS
THAT MANY MODERN BOOKS ARE MERELY BOOKSELLERS‘ SPECULATIONS.—FALSE
NOTIONS CREATED BY PARTY SPIRIT.—GENERAL MAISON.
14th.—To-day the Grand Marshal forwarded to the Governor the new
declarations which he required us to make. They were all alike, and were
as follows:
“I, the undersigned, hereby declare that I wish to remain at St. Helena,
and to share the restrictions which are imposed on the Emperor Napoleon
personally.”
About one o’clock I went to attend the Emperor in his chamber. I gave
him an account of some private commissions. He was reading a work on
the government of France. He thought it very indifferent, and observed
that, since he had been in the habit of perusing new publications, he
had found them, for the most part, to be merely matters of
speculation,—things got up for sale by booksellers. The world, he
said, was now threatened with a deluge of bad books, and he saw no
remedy that could effectually counteract so great an evil.
After having dressed, the Emperor repaired to the drawing-room, where he
looked over a few English newspapers, and read some lines of Telemachus.
But he felt fatigued and low-spirited, and suspended his reading. We
discoursed on several subjects which intimately concerned the Emperor,
who closed the conversation by several times repeating,—“_Poor human
nature!_”
During another interval of conversation, Napoleon, taking a review of
several well-known individuals, on whom he pronounced his opinion,
alluded to one, whom he represented as being a most immoral and base
character. I happened to be acquainted with this person, and I observed
that I knew him to be quite the reverse of what I had just heard
described. I was defending the individual in question with considerable
warmth when the Emperor interrupted me, saying: “I give full credit to
what you say; but I had heard a different account of him: and though I
generally made it a rule to hear things of this kind with suspicion, yet
you see I could not always avoid retaining some impression of what I
heard. Was this my fault? When I had no particular motive for inquiry,
how could I arrive at the knowledge of facts? This,” continued he, “is
the inevitable consequence of civil commotions: there are always two
reputations between the two parties. What absurdities, what ridiculous
stories, are related of the individuals who figured in our
Revolution![33] The saloons of Paris are full of them. I have had my
full share of this kind of scandal. After me who can have any right to
complain? Yet I protest that nothing of this sort ever produced any
influence on my mind, or occasioned me in any instance to alter my
determinations, &c.”
Footnote 33:
I take this opportunity of correcting an error of the nature here
alluded to. In a preceding part of this work, it is stated that M.
Monge ascended the Jacobinical tribune, &c. The friends and relatives
of that distinguished man have, however, assured me that all who knew
him at the time in question can bear witness that he never appeared
among them, and that he never spoke in any public assembly. I feel
pleasure in mentioning this circumstance; for nothing affords me
greater happiness than to be the means of developing truth.
After alluding to several military officers, the Emperor mentioned
General Maison. “His manœuvres,” said he, “round Lille, in the crisis
of 1814, attracted my attention, and fixed him in my recollection. He
was not with us in 1815. What became of him? Where was he at that
time?”—I could not answer these questions, as I did not know the
General.
DIFFICULTIES STARTED BY THE GOVERNOR RESPECTING OUR DECLARATIONS.—THE
EMPEROR’S SENTIMENTS ON THAT SUBJECT.—THE GOVERNOR’S CONVERSATION
WITH EACH INDIVIDUAL OF THE EMPEROR’S SUITE.—NAPOLEON’S
REMARK.—CONSUMMATION OF OUR SLAVERY.
15th. For some time past I have found it impossible to sleep; and I have
passed whole nights without closing my eyes. About eight o’clock this
morning, as I was endeavouring to compose myself to rest, the Grand
Marshal entered my chamber, to inform me that the Governor had sent back
our declarations, and was coming himself to oblige us to sign that which
he had sent as a model, and which differed from ours only with respect
to the title which we gave to the Emperor. It was wished that we should
designate him merely by the name _Bonaparte_.
The Grand Marshal proceeded to the Emperor’s apartments, whither I was
almost immediately summoned. On entering, I found the Emperor walking
about and expressing himself with great warmth. All the individuals of
the suite were assembled together. “The insults,” said he, “which are
daily heaped upon those who have devoted themselves to me, insults
which, it is very probable, will be multiplied to a still greater
extent, present a spectacle which I cannot and must not longer endure.
Gentlemen, you must leave me; I cannot see you submit to the
restrictions which are about to be imposed on you, and which will
doubtless soon be augmented. I will remain here alone. Return to Europe,
and make known the horrible treatment to which I am exposed; bear
witness that you saw me sinking into a premature grave. I will not allow
any one of you to sign this declaration in the form that is required. I
forbid it. It shall never be said that hands which I had the power to
command were employed in recording my degradation. If obstacles are
raised respecting a mere foolish formality, others will be started
to-morrow for an equally trivial cause. It is determined to remove you
in detail; but I would rather see you removed altogether and at once.
Perhaps this sacrifice may produce a result.” With these words he
dismissed us, and we withdrew overwhelmed with dismay.
In a few moments the Emperor again sent for me. He was walking up and
down, through the whole length of his two little rooms. There was a
peculiar tenderness in the tone of his voice, and I never observed more
easy familiarity in his manner. “Well, my dear Las Cases,” said he, “I
am going to turn hermit,” “Sire,” said I, “are you not one already? What
resources does our society present to you? We can only offer you prayers
and good wishes; which, though they can contribute but little to your
consolation, are every thing to us. Our present situation is the most
distressing that can possibly be conceived; for, in the question under
consideration, we now perhaps, for the first time, find it difficult to
obey your Majesty. You hold the language of reason; while we are guided
only by sentiment. The arguments which you just now addressed to us
admit of no reply. Your determination is in unison with your character;
it will astonish no one, but its execution is beyond our power. The
thought of leaving you here alone exceeds in horror all that our
imagination can picture.”—“Such, however, is my fate,“ replied the
Emperor calmly, “and I must prepare for the worst: my mind is strong
enough to meet it. They will cut short my life; that is
certain.”—“Sire,” I observed, “the step which you command is not to be
thought of. To the last moment I will speak out as your Majesty has
done: on this point I will resist to the utmost; but I shall find it
impossible to act as I speak.”
The Emperor seated himself, and desired me to sit down beside him. He
observed that he was much fatigued; and he ordered breakfast, desiring
me to stay with him. For a considerable time past, I had not been in the
habit of dining with him; he told me the reason why I had been denied
this happiness; and I considered it as a favour that he should
condescend to tell me. When the coffee was brought in, there was no cup
for me. Marchand was going to fetch one; but the Emperor called him
back, saying: “Take that one from the mantel-piece: he shall drink out
of my handsome gold cup.”[34]
Footnote 34:
This was the cup belonging to his dressing-table, which stood on the
chimney-piece as an ornament.
I have now the happiness of possessing the saucer belonging to this
cup. M. Marchand, that faithful servant, to whom Napoleon declared
himself so much attached, on his return from St. Helena, came and
presented this saucer to me, in a manner that forcibly roused my
gratitude and sensibility. “The beautiful cup,” said he, “out of which
you sometimes drank, belonged to the Emperor’s dressing-table, and was
accordingly restored to its place. The saucer, however, among other
articles, fell to my share; and I now present it to you, being assured
that you will feel as much pleasure in receiving as I have in giving
it.”
Just as breakfast was over, the Grand Marshal entered and told us that
the Governor had arrived, and had expressed a wish to see him at his
(Bertrand‘s) new house, which is a very short distance from our
establishment, and is at length on the point of being completed. The
Emperor desired him to attend the Governor. The Grand Marshal, as he was
about to withdraw, seemed desirous to know whether the Emperor still
persisted in the orders he had given us this morning, in case the
Governor should not yield. The Emperor sharply observed: “I am not a
child; when I have once thoroughly considered a question, I no longer
entertain two opinions upon it. I have directed battles which have
decided the fate of empires, and the orders I issued were always the
result of my mature deliberation. In this instance I am alone concerned.
Go!”
The Grand Marshal soon returned with an account of the interview, which
he had closed by his refusal. The Governor, he said, had desired to see
the other three persons of the suite together; but we thought that it
would be more proper to present ourselves in succession.
I went to wait on the Governor. I found him, surrounded by several of
his attendants, in the garden, near the path leading to the Grand
Marshal’s house. He withdrew on perceiving me; but I joined him in the
court before the house.
As he had expressed himself very much irritated against me, I went as
well fortified as I possibly could. He, however, conducted me with great
politeness into the house, leaving the officers of his suite on the
outside; and, having told me that he awaited the arrival of Messrs. de
Montholon and Gourgaud, to enter upon the business, I asked him whether
he had any objection to treat immediately with me. He replied that he
had not; and, calling in his officers, he told me, in their presence,
that I had no doubt learned from the Grand Marshal what he had to
propose on the subject of my declaration. I replied in the affirmative,
at the same time observing that I regarded the Grand Marshal as my model
and guide, on account of his rank, as well as the respect and esteem I
entertained for him, and therefore it was natural to expect that my
answer should correspond with his. I added that I could not conceive why
so much importance was attached to a mere matter of form, which was so
painful to our feelings, while it could be of no service to those who
insisted on it. “It is out of my power,” said the Governor, “to make the
alteration you wish. I am directed to present to you for signature the
declaration written in my hand: now I, being an Englishman, cannot write
the title you wish.”—“I was not aware of that,” replied I; “to that
argument I have no reply to make. You, as an Englishman, must write
thus; but I, being a Frenchman, must sign in my language; that is to
say, with the translation from yours. Allow me, therefore, to add to my
signature any phrase that you may think proper to dictate to me, in
which I can express myself in my own language. You may now judge,” added
I, “whether I deal candidly, and whether I seek to create difficulties.”
This proposal seemed to claim his attention. “We are now,” I continued,
“merely disputing about words, which may appear very silly, considering
the important circumstances in which we are placed; but, Sir, who
created these difficulties? Who will suffer from them? Your refusal
places us in a most distressing situation! You see me reduced to the
utmost despair! To me separation from the Emperor would be worse than
death; yet I would rather submit to it than suffer my hand to be the
instrument of his degradation. The Emperor unites in himself all that
constitutes an august character, in the eyes of God and man: to deny
this would be to deny the light of the sun.”
The Governor observed that he, as an Englishman, could not acknowledge
the Emperor; and I replied that I could urge no objection to that. I
added that however much I might be hurt by his mode of designating the
Emperor, yet I did not mean to question his right of using whatever
terms he might think proper; and that, for the same reason, he ought not
to object to my opinions and expressions, considering that I was a
Frenchman, and that he demanded my signature.
Here Sir Hudson Lowe angrily alluded to some past circumstances relating
to himself personally; and he observed that, after all, moral character
was the only real title to respect. “At that rate, Governor,” replied I,
with some warmth, and turning to the Officers who were in attendance,
“the Emperor may divest himself of all his titles, and he will but gain
in the opinion of the world, if his character be estimated by the scale
to which you allude.” The Governor was silent: then, after a pause of a
few moments, he observed that we still treated our General as though he
were an Emperor. “And how can we treat him otherwise?”—“I mean to say,
that you continue to look upon him as a Sovereign.”—“Governor, you talk
of revering him as our Sovereign; we do more—we worship him! We now
consider the Emperor as removed from this world; we view him as though
he were in Heaven!... When you leave us a choice that is in opposition
to him, it is like the choice given to martyrs, when they are commanded
to renounce their faith or die. “Death, therefore, must be our
alternative.” These words produced a visible impression on the officers
who were present, and even on the Governor. Contrary to custom, his
countenance assumed a mild expression, and the tone of his voice was
softened.
“Our situation here,” continued I, “is so horrible as to be almost
beyond endurance. You know this;—but what we now suffer is nothing to
the misery which is reserved for us. What I ask will be no sacrifice to
you, and it will be every thing to us. I implore you to grant what I
request; and this is something, for you know I am not in the habit of
soliciting favours from you. Make but this one concession, and you will
claim my eternal gratitude. Besides, consider that a responsibility
rests with you; that there is a public opinion in Europe, which you may
forfeit without gaining any advantage in return. You cannot be a
stranger to the sentiments which animate me; they must, I am sure, go to
the hearts of all who listen to me.”
Here the Governor appeared somewhat moved; the officers were evidently
affected. Sir Hudson Lowe, after a few moments‘ silence, bowed to me,
and I took my leave.
Messrs. de Montholon and Gourgaud had each an interview in their turn;
and we all four attended the Emperor during his toilet, without,
however, being able to tell him whether any decision had been formed on
the subject that so deeply interested us.
The Emperor expressed a wish to go out, though the wind was extremely
boisterous: we all walked to the extremity of the wood. He took a review
of the Governor’s conduct, making remarks upon it in the rapid and
copious way peculiar to himself; and he concluded by saying that if
to-day we should agree to sign the declaration, in order to avoid being
separated from him, to-morrow another ground of expulsion would be
brought forward; and that he should wish our removal to be effected
forcibly and at once, rather than tranquilly and in detail. Then,
suddenly assuming a tone of pleasantry, he said that, after all, he
could hardly believe the Governor wished to reduce his subjects to one
only; and what sort of subject would that one be! added he—an absolute
porcupine, on which he would not dare to lay a finger.
During our walk, two strangers approached pretty near to us. The Emperor
made some one enquire who they were, and he was informed that they
belonged to a vessel which was about to sail to-morrow for Europe. The
Emperor asked whether they were likely to see any of the Ministers on
their arrival in London; and they replied that they should see Lord
Bathurst. “Tell him,” said Napolean, “that his instructions with respect
to my treatment here are most odious, and that his agent executes them
with scrupulous fidelity. If he wished to get rid of me, he should have
despatched me at a blow, instead of thus killing me by inches. This
conduct is truly barbarous; there is nothing English in it; and I can
only attribute it to some personal hatred. I have too much respect for
the Prince Regent, the majority of the Ministers, and the English
nation, to suppose that they are responsible for my treatment. Be this
as it may, their power extends only to the body; the soul is beyond
their reach: it will soar to Heaven even from the dungeon.”
The Emperor, on his return home, took a bath; he was fatigued and
harassed by the events of the day. He fell asleep, and I watched beside
him, meditating on our new grievances.
At dinner he ate but a little. Some one made an observation, and the
Emperor, not having heard it distinctly, asked what had been said—a
thing which frequently happens. The words were then repeated in a louder
tone, upon which he observed: “I am certainly growing deaf, for I
occasionally miss hearing what is said, and I feel inclined to be angry
when people speak louder than usual.” He concluded the evening by
reading a part of Don Quixote. He was much amused at some comic
passages; and, laying down the book, he remarked that we certainly
showed a great deal of courage, since we could laugh at such trifles
under our present circumstances. He paused for some moments, and seemed
deeply wrapped in thought: then rising, he withdrew, saying: “Adieu, my
dear friends.”
During dinner, a letter had been delivered to me from the Grand Marshal;
but I had kept it concealed, conceiving that it augured no good. I
opened it as soon as the Emperor withdrew. It enclosed a letter from the
Governor, announcing that if we still persisted in our refusal to sign
the declaration, he would immediately give orders for our removal to
Europe. We yielded to the dictates of our hearts: to determine on
leaving the Emperor was beyond our power; while at the same time it
would have been going beyond his wishes, and perhaps too beyond his
orders. With unanimous sentiments, we eagerly signed the declarations in
the form in which they were presented to us, and delivered them to the
English officer on duty at Longwood, together with a letter to the Grand
Marshal, acquainting him with what we had done without his
participation. We had been guided solely by our feelings, and we trusted
that those feelings would afford us consolation, even though the Emperor
should disapprove of the step we had taken.
We have now reached the consummation of our absolute slavery and
dependence on the will and caprice of Sir Hudson Lowe; not merely by the
signature we have just given him, but because he now knows our secret,
and therefore it is in his power to compel us to submit to any thing he
pleases.
ANECDOTES OF SIEYES.—THE EMPEROR FREQUENTLY ATTENDED POPULAR FESTIVITIES
IN DISGUISE.—HIS VISITS TO THE FAUBOURG SAINT-ANTOINE, AFTER HIS
RETURN FROM MOSCOW AND FROM THE ISLAND OF ELBA.—MANNERS DURING THE
TIME OF THE DIRECTORY.—REMARKABLE OFFICIAL NOTE.
16th.—The Emperor sent for me about noon. He had been reading and was
just finishing his coffee. He desired me to sit down, and he entered
into conversation. Not a word escaped him that could lead me to suppose
he knew the determination we had adopted yesterday evening; he made no
allusion to the subject, and it was not mentioned throughout the whole
of the day. After breakfast, the Emperor walked about his apartments.
The turn of the conversation introduced some anecdotes of former times,
of which Sieyes was the subject. The Emperor related that while Sieyes
was chaplain to the Princes of Orleans, being one day engaged in
performing mass, something unexpectedly occasioned the Princes to
withdraw during the service; upon which the Abbé, looking up and seeing
only the valets present, immediately closed his book, observing that he
was not engaged to perform mass to the rabble.
“Your Majesty,” said I, “was the first who made me acquainted with the
name and person of Sieyes. A few days after my presentation at Court,
your Majesty, at one of your audiences, having passed by me, stopped to
speak to the person who stood next to me, addressing him by name. All my
emigrant prejudices were yet in full force and I thought myself polluted
by coming in contact with one whom I regarded as an absolute monster,
and whom I had never heard mentioned except as an object of the
bitterest imprecation.” “Doubtless,” said the Emperor, “you were
thinking of the _mort sans phrase_. But I have heard it affirmed that
Sieyes denied that.”
I now repeated an anecdote which used to be circulated in the Faubourg
Saint-Germain, and on which, the first time I related it, the Emperor
made no observation. Sieyes was described as having used the epithet
_tyrant_ in speaking of Louis XVI., to which Napoleon was said to have
replied, “Monsieur l‘Abbé, if he had been a tyrant, I should not be
here, and you would still be performing mass.” “I might have thought
so,” said the Emperor, on my relating this anecdote for the second time;
“but I should certainly not have been fool enough to say so. This is one
of the absurd stories invented in the drawing-rooms of Paris. I never
committed blunders of that kind: my object was to extinguish, and not to
feed, the flame. The torrent of hostility was already too forcibly
directed against certain leaders of the Revolution. I found it necessary
to support and countenance them; and I did so. Some one having
procured—God knows where—a bust of Sieyes in his ecclesiastical
character, it was publickly exhibited, and occasioned a universal
uproar. Sieyes, in a furious passion, set out to make a complaint to me;
but I had already given the necessary reprimand, and the bust was again
consigned to obscurity.
“My great principle was to guard against re-action, and to bury the past
in oblivion. I never condemned any opinion, or proscribed any act. I was
surrounded by the men who had voted for the death of Louis XVI.: they
were in the Ministry, and in the Council of State. I did not approve of
their doctrines; but what had I to do with them? what right had I to
constitute myself their judge?” Some had been actuated by conviction,
others by weakness and terror, and all by the delirium and fury of the
moment. The fatality of the Greek tragedy was exemplified in the life of
Louis XVI.”
I told the Emperor that it was reported in the Faubourg Saint-Germain
that Sieyes had been detected in a conspiracy against him, in the affair
of M. Clement de Ris; and that he (Napoleon) had pardoned him, on
condition of his entirely withdrawing himself from any participation in
political affairs. “This is another idle story, for which there is not
the slightest foundation,” said the Emperor. “Sieyes was always attached
to me, and I never had any cause to complain of him. He was probably
vexed to find that I opposed his metaphysical ideas; but he was at
length convinced that it was necessary for France to have a ruler, and
he preferred me to any other. Sieyes was, after all, an honest and a
very clever man: he did much for the Revolution.”
The Emperor mentioned that at one of the first public festivals that
took place during the Consulate, as he was viewing the illuminations
in company with Sieyes, he asked him what he thought of the state of
affairs. Sieyes replied in a cold and even a disheartening tone. “And
yet,” resumed Napoleon, “I had this morning very satisfactory proofs
of the spirit of the people.”—“It is seldom,” replied Sieyes, “that
the people shew their real spirit, when the man who is possessed of
power presents himself to their gaze. I can assure you they are far
from being satisfied.”—“Then you do not think the present government
firmly established?”—“No.”—“And when do you suppose we shall be
settled?“—“When I see the Dukes and Marquises of the old court in your
ante-chamber.“—“Sieyes,” added the Emperor, “little dreamed that this
would so soon be the case. He was short-sighted, and could not see
very far before him. I thought, as he did, that all could not end with
the Republic; but I foresaw the establishment of the Empire.
Accordingly, two or three years afterwards, the circumstance I have
just related being still fresh in my recollection, I said to Sieyes,
at one of my grand audiences: Well, you are now pell-mell with all the
old Dukes and Marquises; do you think all is settled now?”—“Oh, yes,”
replied Sieyes, bowing profoundly; “you have wrought miracles, which
were never before equalled, and which I never could have foreseen.”
During the Consulate, Napoleon was once standing in front of the Hotel
de la Marine, viewing a public illumination. Beside him was a lady, who
to all appearance had formerly moved in a distinguished sphere,
accompanied by her daughter, a very pretty girl, to whom she was
pointing out all the persons of note, as they passed to and fro in the
apartments. Calling her daughter’s attention to a certain individual,
she said: “Remind me to go and pay my respects to him some day. We ought
to do so, for he has rendered us great service.” “But, mother,” replied
the young lady, “I did not know that we were expected to shew gratitude
to such people. I thought they were too happy in being able to oblige
persons of our quality.” “Certainly,” said the Emperor, “La Bruyere
would have turned this incident to good account.”
Napoleon sometimes went out in disguise early in the morning, traversing
the streets of the capital alone, and mingling with the labouring
classes of the people, with whose condition and sentiments he wished to
make himself acquainted. In the Council of State I have often heard him
advise the Prefect of Police to adopt this plan. He called it the
_Caliph system of police_, and said he esteemed it to be the best.
On his return from the disastrous campaigns of Moscow and Leipsic,
Napoleon, in order to maintain the appearance of confidence, frequently
appeared amidst the multitude with scarcely any attendants. He visited
the market-places, the faubourgs, and all the populous districts of the
capital, conversing familiarly with the people; and he was every where
received and treated with respect.
One day, at La Halle, a woman with whom he had been holding a little
dialogue, bluntly told him he ought to make peace. “Good woman,” replied
the Emperor, “sell your greens, and leave me to settle my affairs. Let
every one attend to his own calling.” The bystanders laughed, and
applauded him.
On another occasion, at the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, when surrounded by
an immense concourse of people, whom he was treating very
condescendingly, some one asked whether affairs were really as bad as
they were represented to be? “Why, certainly,” replied the Emperor, “I
cannot say that things are going on very well.” “But what will be the
end of this?” “Heaven knows!” “Will the enemy enter France?” “Very
possibly; and he may even march to Paris if you do not assist me. I have
not a million of arms. I cannot do all by my own individual efforts.”
“We will support you,” exclaimed a number of voices. “Then I shall beat
the enemy, and preserve the glory of France.” “But what must we do?”
“You must enlist and fight.” “We will,’ said one of the crowd; “but we
must make a few conditions!” “What are they?” “We will not pass the
frontier.” “You shall not be required to do so.” “We wish to serve in
the guards,” said another. “You shall do so.” The air instantly
resounded with acclamations. Registers were immediately opened, and two
thousand men enlisted in the course of the day. Napoleon returned to the
Tuileries; and, as he entered the Place Carousel on horseback,
surrounded by the multitude, whose acclamations rent the air, it was
supposed that an insurrection had broken out, and the gates were about
to be closed.
On his return from the Island of Elba, the Emperor made another visit to
the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, where he was received with equal enthusiasm,
and conducted back to the palace in a similar manner. As he passed
through the Faubourg Saint-Germain, the multitude who escorted him
halted before the principal hotels, and manifested their disapprobation
by angry words and gestures. The Emperor observed that he had scarcely
ever been placed in so delicate a situation. “How many evils might have
ensued,” said he, “had a single stone been thrown by the mob. Had a
single imprudent word, or even an equivocal look, escaped me, the whole
Faubourg might have been destroyed; and I am convinced that its
preservation was to be attributed wholly to my presence of mind, and the
respect which the multitude entertained for me.”
To-day I attended the Emperor at his toilet. Santini was cutting his
hair, and a large tuft fell at my feet. I stooped to pick it up, and the
Emperor, observing me, asked what I was doing. I replied that I had
dropped something, upon which he smiled and pinched my ear: he guessed
what I had picked up.
Speaking of the depravity and corruption of manners which prevailed at
the time when he commanded the army of the interior in Paris, Napoleon
mentioned that a contractor came to solicit some signatures from him,
and to beg that he would give his support to certain appointments and
supplies: this he promised to do without hesitation, conceiving that
there was nothing unfair in the proposal. Before he withdrew, the
contractor dextrously took an opportunity of leaving on the
chimney-piece two rouleaux containing a hundred Louis. This was an
enormous sum in specie, for at that time paper money was chiefly in use.
Fortunately, the General was the first to discover the circumstance, and
the visitor was called back before he had gone far. He at first
attempted to deny having left the money; but he afterwards acknowledged
it, observing that every one must live, and that the method he had
adopted was, he believed, the general one. He, however, hoped that he
might be forgiven if he had unintentionally done wrong, adding that it
was very seldom necessary to ask pardon for such offences.
At the hour at which the Emperor generally takes his walk, he found
himself very drowsy; but he was determined to rouse himself, and he went
out though the wind was blowing violently. After walking a short
distance, he returned to the house, and we entered Madame de Montholon’s
apartment. The Emperor had no sooner seated himself on the sofa, than he
felt inclined to fall asleep. He rose and proceeded to the drawing-room.
He complained of great internal heat, and asked for a glass of toast and
water. His drowsiness still continued, and he retired to his chamber to
lie down.
About seven o’clock he sent for me, and gave me the following note,
which he desired me to keep along with the rest of the official papers.
It was the copy of a note which he had sent that morning to the
Governor....
_Note._—“I recollect that in a conversation which took place between
General Lowe and some of the gentlemen of my suite, (alluding to the
conversation of the 15th,) some observations were made respecting my
situation, which were not conformable with my ideas. I abdicated to the
Representatives of the people and in favour of my son. I proceeded with
confidence to England, with the intention of living either there or in
America, in profound retirement, and under the name of a Colonel who was
killed in battle by my side. _I had resolved to have nothing to do with
political affairs of any kind whatever._
“When I went on board the Northumberland, I was informed that I was a
prisoner of war, that I was to be transported beyond the Line, and that
I was to be called _General Bonaparte_. This obliged me to retain
ostensibly the title of the Emperor Napoleon, in opposition to the name
of General Bonaparte, which was thus to be forced upon me.
“About seven or eight months ago, Count Montholon proposed to obviate
the little difficulties that are continually arising, by my adopting an
ordinary name. The Admiral thought it necessary to write to London on
this subject, and there the matter rested.
“The name which is now applied to me has the advantage of not prejudging
the past; but it is not in unison with the forms of society. _I am still
disposed to assume a name that may be conformable with custom_; I once
more repeat that whenever I may be released from my cruel captivity, _I
am still willing to continue a stranger to all political affairs,
whatever may take place in the world_. Such is my determination; and no
other declaration, on this subject, has my sanction.”
The Emperor ate but little dinner; there was something very
extraordinary in the lethargy that had come over him. He had been
overpowered by drowsiness during the whole of the day; and yet when he
withdrew he said he was afraid he should not sleep, his sensations were
so extraordinary. He generally rests soundly when he is inclined to
sleep, but he had been dozing all day long without being able to get any
rest.
To-day a frigate sailed for Europe.
LOUIS XVI.—MARIE ANTOINETTE.—MADAME CAMPAN.—LEONARD.—THE
PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE.
17th. About noon the Emperor sent for me; he had just finished his
breakfast. He was no better than he had been yesterday. He endeavoured
to converse a little, and then read in English a few pages of the Vicar
of Wakefield. He still complained of drowsiness, and, after several vain
efforts to rouse himself, he retired to his chamber to try to get a nap.
He was the more astonished that this heaviness should continue, as he
said he had slept well during the night.
He did not leave his chamber until dinner was ready, and after dinner he
tried to read a little of Don Quixote; but he almost immediately laid
down the book, and retired. As it was very early, he sent for me after
he had gone to bed, and I remained with him nearly an hour conversing on
different subjects.
We spoke of Louis XVI., the Queen, Madame Elizabeth, their martyrdom,
&c. He asked me to tell him what I knew of the King and Queen, and what
they had said to me on my presentation. The forms and ceremonies of the
Court were, I informed him, the same as those which were adopted during
the Empire. As to character, I observed, it was generally admitted that
the Queen had disappointed public expectation. During the first moments
of the revolutionary storm, there was every reason to suppose her to be
a woman of great talent and energy; but subsequently these qualities
seemed entirely to forsake her. With regard to the King, I mentioned the
opinion formed of him by M. Bertrand de Molleville, with whom I had been
well acquainted, and who was Minister of Marine to Louis XVI. at the
height of the crisis. He pronounced the King to have possessed
considerable information, sound judgment, and excellent intentions; but
there it all ended. He lost himself by the multiplicity of advice which
he solicited, and by his irresolute and wavering mode of following that
advice.
The Emperor, in his turn, retraced the portrait of the Queen, by Madame
Campan, who, he observed, having been her confidante, and having served
her with zeal, affection and fidelity, might be expected to have known a
great deal about her, and deserved to be considered as good authority.
Madame Campan, he said, had communicated to him many details of the
private life of the Queen; and he related some particulars which he had
derived from that source.
The Queen, according to Madame Campan, was a fascinating woman, but
destitute of talent: she was better calculated to be a votary of
pleasure than a participator in affairs of State. She possessed an
excellent heart, was parsimonious, rather than extravagant, and by no
means possessed strength of character equal to the trying circumstances
in which she was placed. She obtained regular information of the schemes
that were carrying on abroad; and she never entertained a doubt of her
deliverance, even up to the fatal 10th of August, the catastrophe of
which was brought about solely by the intrigues and hopes of the Court,
which were developed to the world through the imprudence of the King and
those who surrounded him.
“On the terrible night of the 5th of October,” said the Emperor, “a
person for whom the Queen entertained a high regard, and whom I
afterwards treated very ill at Rastadt, hastened to join the Princess at
Versailles: whether he had been sent for, or whether he went of his own
accord to share her dangers, I know not. It is in these trying moments,”
continued the Emperor, “that we feel most in need of the advice and
consolation of those who are devoted to us. At the moment of the
catastrophe, when the palace was stormed, the Queen fled for refuge to
the King’s apartments; but her confident was exposed to the greatest
dangers, and only escaped by leaping out of a window.”
I informed the Emperor that the Queen had greatly fallen in the
estimation of the emigrants, by her conduct during the events of
Varennes; she was reproached for not having allowed the King to set out
alone, and for having betrayed a want of skill and energy during the
flight of the Royal family. Nothing indeed, could be more ill managed
and confused than the journey to Varennes. A curious circumstance
connected with that event was, that Leonard, the Queen’s famous
_coiffeur_, found means to pass, in his cabriolet, through the midst of
the tumult; and he arrived at Coblentz, bringing with him the Marshal’s
baton, which, it was said, the King had carried away from the Tuileries,
in order to deliver it to M. de Bouillé, when he should join him.
“It was,” said the Emperor, “an established rule with the members of the
House of Austria to observe profound silence respecting the Queen of
France. Whenever Marie Antoinette was mentioned, they cast down their
eyes, and dexterously changed the conversation, as if to avoid a
disagreeable and embarrassing subject. This rule,” continued the
Emperor, “was adopted by all the members of the family, and recommended
to their agents abroad. The efforts lately made by the French Princes in
Paris to revive the interest attached to the memory of the unfortunate
Queen must certainly have been displeasing to the Court of Vienna.”
The Emperor next asked me some questions concerning the Princess de
Lamballe, of whom he said he knew nothing. I was enabled to answer his
questions, as I had known the Princess well. One of my cousins had been
her lady of honour; and, on my arrival at Aix-la-Chapelle, at the
commencement of my emigration, I was received as one of her household,
and treated with the utmost kindness.
At Aix-la-Chapelle the Princess de Lamballe had assembled round her many
of the wrecks of Versailles: she was surrounded by nobles and persons of
fashion, who had been connected with the old Court. She was also visited
by many illustrious foreigners; and while I remained with her, I
frequently saw Gustavus III., King of Sweden, who went by the name of
the Count de Haga; Prince Ferdinand of Prussia, and his children, the
eldest of whom (Prince Louis) was killed just before the battle Jena;
the duchess of Cumberland, widow of a brother of the King of England,
&c.
When Louis XVI. solemnly accepted the Constitution, and thus recomposed
the nation, the Princess received an official letter from the Queen,
inviting her to return to her situation. She consulted her old friends,
who declared themselves of opinion that the Queen was not free, and,
conceiving that there would be no safety in Paris, they advised her to
take no notice of the Queen’s letter, and to let it be supposed that it
had never come to hand. The Princess, however, having asked some other
individuals, how they would advise her to act, they unfortunately
replied: “Madam, you shared the prosperity of the Queen, and you have
now a noble opportunity of proving your fidelity, particularly since you
are no longer her favourite.” The Princess possessed lofty sentiments,
warm affections, and was of a rather romantic turn of mind. She declared
her intention of setting out next day for Paris. The unfortunate lady,
therefore, returned to the capital, with a full knowledge of the danger
to which she was exposed; and she fell the victim of generosity and
noble sentiment. When the Princess determined on proceeding to Paris, my
friends proposed that I should accompany her as one of her suite. My
youth, together with the circumstance of my being almost a stranger in
Paris, would have enabled me to pass unnoticed, and I might perhaps have
been serviceable to her; but at the moment of her departure, some
difficulties arose which prevented me from accompanying her. However, I
became her correspondent; and every other day I transmitted to her the
absurd stories of every kind, which served to feed our hopes, and to
which we failed not to give implicit credit. I continued my
correspondence while we remained in the country; I even continued it
after she had ceased to exist!
The extreme affliction in which I was plunged, on hearing of her
dreadful fate, was occasionally augmented by the fear that my letters
might perhaps have had some share in producing it. I happen to have now
in my possession some lines which she wrote a few days before the
horrible catastrophe that closed her existence. They are dated _from my
dungeon_; for so she called the Pavilion of Flora, which she at that
time occupied in the Tuileries.