Memoirs of the life, exile, and conversations of the Emperor Napoleon. (Vol. II)

by comte de Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases

POLITICAL HISTORY OF THE COURT OF LONDON DURING OUR EMIGRATION.—GEORGE III.—MR. PITT.—THE PRINCE OF WALES.—ANECDOTES.—THE NASSAUS.—REMARKABLE DIGRESSION OF NAPOLEON TO HIS OWN HISTORY.

Sunday, 30th.—The Emperor desired me to be called early in the morning to breakfast with him; he was sad, gloomy, and unable to converse; he could not find words. Chance having produced the mention of London and of my emigration, the Emperor said, by way of fixing on a subject, and finding something to occupy his attention, “You must have seen in London, the Court, the King, the Prince of Wales, Mr. Pitt, Mr. Fox, and other great personages who figured at that time? Tell me what you know of them. What did people think of them? Give me an historical sketch.”—"Sire, your Majesty forgets, or perhaps was never precisely informed of the situation of an emigrant in London. I doubt whether we should have been received at Court; the good old George III. was deeply concerned for our personal misfortunes, but he was extremely reluctant to avow us in a political sense. And if we could have been received there, our means would not have enabled us to appear. I did not therefore go to Court. I have, however, seen most of those whom your Majesty mentions, and I have also heard much said of them.

"I have seen and heard the King several times in the House of Lords, and been very near him; the Prince of Wales in the same place, and also in company in the metropolis. Besides, it is not in London as in France; we do not find there that immense distance between the Court and the mass of the nation; the country is so crowded, information so general, education so equal, affluence so common, and the sphere of activity so rapid, that the whole nation seems to be in the same place and on the same plane; whilst, in looking at this assemblage, which might deserve to be called distinguished, one is tempted to ask, Where is the people? which is, in fact, the question that Alexander is said to have asked at the time of his visit to London. It follows then, that having seen many people of all classes, conditions, and opinions, I must have imbibed some notions approaching in all probability very near the truth. Unluckily, I was then little solicitous about observing and collecting information; and I am likewise fearful that the lapse of so much time may now confuse my memory.

"George the Third was the honestest man in his dominions; his personal virtues made him an object of profound veneration; an extreme morality, and great respect for the laws, were the principal characteristics of his whole life. He came to the throne at twenty years of age, deeply enamoured of a charming young Scotch lady, of one of the first families in the country, it was much feared that he would marry her; but it was sufficient to remind him that it was contrary to law, and he instantly consented to marry the person who should be chosen for him. This was a princess of Mecklenburg. In his grief, he thought her very ordinary, and in fact she was so; nevertheless George III. remained all his life an exemplary husband; he was never known to be guilty of the least infidelity.

"The accession of George III. was an actual political revolution in England: the days of the Pretenders were over; the house of Hanover was established; the Whigs, who had placed that family on the throne, were dismissed from administration: they were troublesome observers, who were no longer wanted. The government was again seized by the Tories, those friends of power, who have ever since kept it, to the great detriment of public liberty.

"The King, however, was personally free from prejudice in this respect: he sincerely loved the laws, justice, and the welfare and prosperity of his country. The violent part taken by England against our French revolution was much less the fault of George III. than of Mr. Pitt, who was the real firebrand. The latter was instigated by the extreme hatred to France which he inherited from his father, the great Chatham, and also by a strong predilection for power and the oligarchy. At the commencement of our revolution, Mr. Pitt was the man of the people: he governed England; he drew in the King, who was always to be worked on by facts; and it must be acknowledged that the excesses and crimes of our outset afforded very favourable opportunities to the measures and the eloquence of Mr. Pitt. It is probable, Sire, that if the unfortunate George III. had retained his reason, your Majesty would eventually have found it greatly to your advantage, because your reign would have presented new facts to his observation, to which he would have yielded. George III. had his own species and degree of character: it was in harmony with his intellectual conceptions: he wished to know things, to be convinced. When once his resolution was taken, it was difficult to make him alter it; yet it was not impossible: his good sense afforded great opportunities.

"His illness was, on this account, a curse to us, a curse to Europe, and to the English themselves, who begin now to give up the high opinion they once professed of Mr. Pitt, of whose fatal errors they now feel the effects.

"It was the first attack of the King’s illness which established the reputation and credit of Mr. Pitt. That minister was little more than twenty-five years of age, when he ventured alone to encounter the mass of those who deserted the King and considered him lost; and who were eager to proclaim the monarch’s incapacity, in order to possess themselves of power under his youthful successor. This conduct rendered Mr. Pitt the idol of the nation. This was the most glorious period of his life; and his noblest triumph was, undoubtedly, that of conducting George III. to St. Paul’s, to return thanks to God for his restoration to health, amidst an immense concourse of people intoxicated with joy and satisfaction.

"There was no doubt that Mr. Pitt was on this occasion the saviour of the King as well as of the public peace; for experience proved that George III. had not become incapable of reigning again; and it was strongly suspected that, had the regency been organized, as the Opposition wished to have it, this capability would not have been very readily acknowledged at a subsequent period; and thus a civil war might have been occasioned.

"I have often heard it said that the mental derangement of George III. was not a common kind of madness: that his alienation did not exactly arise from a local affection of the brain, but from the repletion of the vessels leading to it; a derangement produced by a malady which had long been peculiar to this family. His disorder, it was said, was rather delirium than insanity. When the cause was removed, the sovereign instantly recovered all his faculties, in as great perfection as if they had sustained no interruption; this circumstance explains his numerous relapses and restorations. As a proof of this, people used to mention the strength of mind he must have possessed, to be able, immediately on his first convalescence, to support the pomp of the procession, attended by the assembled population of London, filling the air with acclamations.

"After his second relapse, he gave another not less remarkable proof of this nature, by the calmness and composure which he displayed, when fired at by an assassin, as he entered his box at the theatre. He was so little disturbed that he instantly turned to the Queen, who had just reached the door of the box, to tell her not to be alarmed, for that it was only a squib which had been let off in the theatre: he remained during the whole performance apparently unmoved. Here was certainly no proof of weakness. The permanence of the complaint in his latter years might indeed be opposed to these facts, if it be certain that he had not long lucid intervals.

"George III., although so worthy and well-meaning a monarch, was several times very near falling a victim to assassins. Several instances of this kind occur in his history; and I do not believe any of the persons implicated suffered death, because they all appeared to be insane—all religious or political fanatics. The last and most famous attempt occurred, I think, in 1800.[^[26]] The King went to the theatre, as he did from time to time at that critical period, to keep up his popularity. As he entered his box, a man in the pit took aim at him with a horse pistol, and the ball only missed through the King’s bowing at the moment to salute the public. The dreadful tumult that ensued may easily be conceived! The man did not attempt to deny his crime; he was precisely such another as the fanatic at Schoenbrun, who would have sacrificed your Majesty, and always maintained that he had no other object in view than peace and the happiness of his country. A jury pronounced this man insane, and he was condemned to confinement.

"During my excursion to London in 1814, a singular chance procured me a sight of this very assassin. My mind being still occupied with the mission which your Majesty had confided to me the preceding year, concerning the depôts of mendicity and houses of correction, I wished to see the English establishments of this kind. Whilst I was taking a minute survey of Newgate, I entered an apartment in which I found a great number of condemned persons enjoying a certain degree of liberty. The first on whom my conductor fixed his eyes happened to be Hatfield, whom he pointed out to me, and whose name I immediately recollected, and asked if he was the man who had attempted to assassinate George III. It was the same, he said, and he was undergoing the confinement to which he had been condemned, as insane, in Newgate. I observed that, at the time, his insanity had been much doubted and contested by the public, as it always happens in such cases. I was assured, however, that Hatfield was indisputably mad, but only by fits; that his madness was, however, so mild that he was suffered to go about the town, on his word; and that he was the first to request he might be attended to, when he felt that his disorder was coming on. My conductor then called him. Having ventured to ask him some questions, he immediately discovered me to be French by my accent, and told me he had often fought against my countrymen in Flanders. (He had served in the light-horse, or dragoons, under the Duke of York.) He bore their marks, he said, shewing me several scars; and yet, he added, he was far from hating them, for they were brave, and were not to blame in that affair; people had insisted on meddling in their disputes, which concerned themselves only. He began to grow very warm, which induced my conductor to make me a sign, and to send him away. We had touched the chord of his derangement, my conductor observed, and had we continued, he would have become outrageous.

"But I return to George III. The predominant sentiment of that prince was the love of the public good and the welfare of his country. To these he always sacrificed every consideration: this alone induced him to retain Mr. Pitt so long, towards whom he felt a strong repugnance, because he was very ill-treated by that minister.

"The crisis was of the most vital importance to England; the danger most imminent; the talents of the Prime Minister of a superior kind. He was, therefore, necessary. Presuming on the omnipotence of this circumstance over the King’s mind, Mr. Pitt ruled him tyrannically, and without the least delicacy; he scarcely allowed him the disposal of the most trifling place. If there was a vacancy, and the King wished to reward a private servant of his own, he was always too late; Mr. Pitt had already disposed of it, and for the good of the state, he would say—for the sake of parliamentary services. If the King shewed too much dissatisfaction, Mr. Pitt had one invariable answer constantly ready—he would resign and give up his place to another. At length a circumstance occurred of the most delicate kind, as it concerned the King’s conscience, who was very religious; that is to say, the question of the emancipation of the Catholics of Ireland, to which he obstinately refused to consent. Mr. Pitt insisted with equal perseverance; he was pledged to this measure, he said, and resorted to his usual threat. But the King this time took him at his word, and, overjoyed at his deliverance, repeated the same day, to several persons, that he had now got rid of a man who had for twenty years been kicking at him. And it may not, perhaps, be useless to observe here, as a remarkable singularity, in contrast to Mr. Pitt’s ill usage of the King, that George III. has been heard to say that, of all his ministers, Mr. Fox (so much accused of republicanism, and perhaps not without foundation) was the person who, when at the head of affairs, had constantly shewn him the greatest delicacy, deference, respect, and attention.

"Nevertheless, such was the influence of the public interest over the King’s mind that, notwithstanding all his aversion, he reinstated Mr. Pitt a year afterwards. It was thought, at the time, that when Mr. Pitt retired he had had the address to fix Mr. Addington, a creature of his own, in the ministry, in order to be able to replace himself there in a short time without difficulty: but it has since been proved that Mr. Pitt himself was obliged to have recourse to intrigues to overthrow his successor and obtain his second administration, which, however, was by no means worthy of him: it was filled with disasters which he himself had occasioned. The ball that decided the victory of Austerlitz killed him in London.

"Time daily undermines the great reputation of Mr. Pitt, not with respect to his eminent talents, but their fatal employment. England groans under the calamities with which he overwhelmed her, the most fatal of which are the school and the doctrines he bequeathed to her. He introduced the police into England, accustomed the nation to an armed force, and commenced that system of informations, snares, and demoralization of every kind so completely perfected by his successors.

“His great system of tactics was constantly to excite our excesses on the Continent, and then to hold them up as a scarecrow to England, which immediately granted him all he wanted.” “But what did you all say to that?” asked the Emperor: “What was the opinion of the emigrants?”—"Sire," I replied, “we all constantly saw through the same glass; what we said the first day of our emigration we still repeated on the last day of our exile. We had not advanced one step; we had become and remained a people by ourselves. Mr. Pitt was our oracle; whatever was said by him, by Burke, Windham, or any of the most violent on that side of the question, appeared to us to be delicious; all that their adversaries objected, abominable. Fox, Sheridan, and Grey, were in our eyes nothing but infamous Jacobins; we never called them by any other name.” “Very well,” said the Emperor; “now return to George III.”

"This virtuous prince was excessively partial to private life and rural occupations; he devoted all the time he could spare from the business of the state to the cultivation of a farm a few miles from London; he never returned to the capital except for his regular levées, or extraordinary councils required by circumstances; and he immediately returned to his fields, where he lived without pomp, and like an honest farmer, as he said himself. All intrigues were left in town, about the ministers, and amongst them.

"George III. had many domestic troubles. His sister was Matilda Queen of Denmark, whose story forms so melancholy a romance; his two brothers caused him many vexations by their marriages; and he had not reason to be perfectly satisfied with his eldest son.

“The two brothers of George III. were the Duke of Cumberland and the Duke of Gloucester. I often saw the latter in private society; he was the worthiest, most polite, and honourable gentleman in England. Both these illustrious individuals, according to the spirit of the British constitution, were entirely strangers to public business. The King heard that one of them had married or was about to marry a private individual. This was a great crime in his estimation; he had himself made a great sacrifice to avoid committing it. He was extremely angry; and whilst he was sending a message to Parliament against the brother who had thus given offence, he was informed that the other had eloped to Calais for a similar purpose. It was like a fatality, an absolute epidemic, for it was at the same time reported on all sides, that the heir-apparent himself was also secretly married.”—"What," said the Emperor, “the Prince of Wales!”—"Yes, Sire, himself: his marriage was every where talked of, but with circumstances not sufficiently certain for me to venture to repeat them; the fact, however, seemed generally acknowledged. But, as the Prince afterwards caused it to be contradicted in Parliament, through the medium of the opposition, we are bound after that to believe him.

"I have it, however, from the mouth of a very near relation of his pretended wife, that the matter was positively so. I heard this person give way to the most violent rage on the solemn marriage of the prince, and threaten to resort to personal violence. It might, therefore, be considered a contested point, which was unavoidably represented according to party-spirit; some obstinately maintaining the reality of the marriage, whilst others denied it in the most violent manner. Perhaps this contradiction might be reconciled by the consideration that the person he was said to have married, Mrs. Fitzherbert, was a Catholic. This circumstance rendered the marriage impossible in the eyes of the law, and perfectly void with respect to the heir to the throne. However this may be, I have often met Mrs. Fitzherbert in company: her carriage bore the Prince’s arms, and her servants wore his livery. This lady was much older than himself; but beautiful, agreeable, of a powerful mind, and haughty, impatient temper, which often involved her in disputes with the Prince, and gave rise, it was said, to scenes of violence not very becoming such elevated rank. It was during one of the last quarrels of this kind, when, they say, Mrs. Fitzherbert had obstinately kept the door shut against the Prince, that Mr. Pitt dexterously took the opportunity of persuading him to consent to a marriage with the Princess of Brunswick."—"But stay," said the Emperor, “you go too fast; you pass over what chiefly interests me. Under what auspices did the Prince of Wales enter into life? What was there peculiar in his political conduct, his situation with regard to the Opposition, and so forth?”—"This Prince, Sire, came before the public with all the advantages of face, person, and mind. He was greeted with universal enthusiasm; but he soon evinced those inclinations, and began to act that part, which seemed necessarily imposed on great personages in the middle of the last century. Such were the infatuation of gaming, and its consequent embarrassments; table and other excesses; and, above all, a set of companions disapproved of by the public. Then it was that all generous hearts were grieved; hope was blighted, and the middling class, which in every country really constitutes the nation, and which, it must be confessed, is in England the most moral population of all Europe, despaired of the future. It was a received adage in England, amongst the lower classes in particular, that the Prince of Wales would never reign; the fortune-tellers and conjurors, it was said, had foretold it to himself.

“The opposition, into whose arms he had thrown himself, as heirs presumptive too frequently do; the opposition, whose stay and hope he was, perhaps trying to deceive themselves, when this misconduct was mentioned to them, used to get over it by saying that he would be another Henry V.; that Henry V. had been extremely dissipated when Prince of Wales; but that he became the greatest King the monarchy had produced; and thence they concluded that the Prince of Wales would make one of their greatest kings.”—"But did he adopt the revolutionary party and defend our modern ideas?" said the Emperor. "No, Sire; as the fever of revolutionary principles increased, decency compelled him to withdraw by degrees from the opposition which defended them. He relinquished all ostensible alliance, and filled up the void of his life by giving himself up to pleasure and its attendant difficulties. He was constantly overwhelmed with debts, although parliament had already paid them several times. By these encumbrances he was greatly embarrassed, and his character and popularity were endangered. It was whilst thus involved, and during a quarrel with Mrs. Fitzherbert, that Mr. Pitt got hold of him, offering to pay his debts again, if he would adopt his father’s views and consent to marry. He was obliged to submit to all that was prescribed, and the hand of the Princess of Brunswick was asked and obtained. But, during the short interval of the negotiation, a celebrated woman who had long aspired to govern the prince, finding the place vacant, took possession of it herself. It is pretended that she has said she had sought this connection for twenty years; for she was much older than himself, a circumstance which seemed to indicate a peculiar taste in this family, having also been remarked in several of his brothers. This person was immediately appointed Lady of the Bed-chamber to the future Princess of Wales; she even went to meet her and bring her to England. It was under such auspices, such malignant influence, that the bride landed on the British shore. Accordingly, it is positively asserted that this unhappy princess had not even so much as twenty-four hours’ enjoyment, out of that privileged period emphatically called by the English the honey-moon. From the very day after her marriage, ridicule, neglect, and contempt were her portion.

"All who possessed the least spark of generosity or morality in England took her part, and loudly exclaimed against the manner in which she was treated. The greater share of the odium, however, fell on Lady Jersey, who was accused of having bewitched the prince. She became the object of public execration; yet the Prince, it was declared could not plead the excuse of illusion or blindness; for it is said that, after a very gay entertainment amongst his jovial companions, one of them was led, in the course of conversation, to say that he knew the Madame de Merteuil of the Liaisons Dangereuses. Many of the others immediately cried out that they also knew one: upon this, it is said, the Prince proposed, for a frolic, that each should write his secret separately. All the notes were thrown into a vase; and the name of Lady Jersey was found written on every one of them: the Prince himself, not having looked for such unanimity, or expected to be discovered, had written this name as well as the rest.

"I knew this Lady Jersey, and it must be confessed that her face and whole appearance were so little indicative of her age, that it could not easily have been suspected. She had all the charms of early youth, heightened by all the grace of the most elegant manners; and I am bound to say, that, in the circles in which I saw her, she even possessed a sort of attractive kindness; whether the manners of her class render the disposition indulgent, or whether she did not in fact deserve all the reproaches with which she was loaded.

“The Prince of Wales seems to have possessed a peculiar faculty, a gift, which the English call the power of fascination. He is endowed with it in the highest degree; one would think that his will was sufficient to reclaim the attachment of the multitude, and as it were to corrupt public opinion. His history is full of those losses and returns of popularity; and, perhaps, it is the certainty of being able to command this sort of success that has so often led him, as his detractors say, to disregard public opinion. His enemies have asserted that he has carried this species of courage to absolute heroism. They have censured him for his hardihood in persisting, whilst lying himself under the reproach of an irregular life, in accusing his wife of that conduct of which he set the example; an inconsistency which ought, undoubtedly, to be attributed to the fatal suggestions of pernicious counsellors, inimical to his glory and tranquillity. It is at least certain, that the basest corruption, the aid of the laws, and the influence of the heir to the throne, were all employed against the Princess, and all in vain: a circumstance which, it is said, used to torment the Prince and expose him to ridicule. People laughed at his unprecedented ill-luck, in being unable to prove, with all his endeavours, what so many husbands would give so much to conceal. Hatred increased on every new defeat, and with it the sufferings of the victim. She was reduced, at last, to a sort of banishment, to a place a few miles from London; she was deprived of her daughter; she was insulted in the sight of the allied Sovereigns when they visited London. But the expression of the feelings of the multitude was always ready to avenge her, and it became necessary to get her to quit England; which she was induced to do voluntarily, by the aid, perhaps, of the perfidious insinuations of some pretended friend.”

Here the Emperor again interrupted me, saying that I was leaving out a very essential point. “When and how had the Prince attained the Royal authority? How had he arranged matters with the opposition? What had he done with those old friends?” “Sire,” I replied, "my information ends here. There was a time when political events induced your Majesty to cut off all intercourse between England and France. We no longer obtained the papers; we were prevented from receiving letters; the two nations had no longer any thing in common. There is, therefore, an actual blank in my intelligence, which I should be unwilling to fill up with mere conjectures. I understand, however, that after several recoveries and relapses of the old King, all parties at length agreed to consign the regency to the Prince of Wales, and place him in full possession of the sovereign authority. The long expected period of changes and of hopes was at length arrived. The gates of heaven were now to open, at length, to that opposition which had so long eulogised the Prince; to those old friends who had seemed from infancy to unite their fate with his. But, to the great and universal surprise of the nation, and through I know not what contrivance of Lord Castlereagh’s, nothing was altered. Those old ministers, who had so long been the objects of the Prince’s dislike and censure, kept their places, and those intimate and dearly beloved friends, who had so long been caressed, remained out of office.

"The opposition complained loudly; but they were laughed at, and told that when the wild Prince of Wales became a great King, his first care was to get rid of his old companions. The jest might be a very good one, but it was by no means applicable; for the greatest characters in the empire were at the head of this opposition; and they were far from being Falstaffs or profligates of that kind. From that instant they evinced a marked coolness towards the Prince: some would no longer see him; others refused his invitations, or repelled the advances which he made to them. It is said, however, that one of them suffered himself to be persuaded to go to dine in private with the Prince. The latter, recurring to his usual victorious weapons, endeavoured to prove to him, with his accustomed grace, that he could not have acted differently; and at length desired to be told of what his old friends could justly accuse him. The guest, whose heart was still swelling with indignation, seized the opportunity, and freely told him all his faults, with such warmth, that the Princess Charlotte, who was at table, and was perhaps secretly inclined towards the guest’s opinion, burst into tears. Lord Byron heard of this scene the next day, and consecrated the event in these celebrated verses:—

"Weep, daughter of a royal line,

A Sire’s disgrace, a realm’s decay;

Ah happy! if each tear of thine

Could wash a father’s fault away!

Weep, for thy tears are virtue’s tears,

Auspicious to these suff’ring isles;

And be each drop, in future years,

Repaid thee by thy people’s smiles."

March, 1812.

“In 1814, at the time of my visit to London, I had the honour of being presented to the Prince of Wales at Carlton House.”—“And what the devil did you want there?” said the Emperor. “I do not wonder that your Majesty is surprised; but I was induced by a sort of point of honour: I thought I could do no other. There were many French in London at that time; I was the only one who had been near your Majesty’s person, worn your colours, and followed the line of conduct which seemed to be censured at that period. Some one having told me that the others would certainly not endure my presence, that circumstance determined me to go. We were, in fact, twenty-two Frenchmen, presented at the same time, at one of the Prince’s grand levees; and I must say that I never saw more graceful manners, more pleasing expression, more harmony in the tout-ensemble; I thought him the beau-ideal of elegance. I comprehended the full power, the whole truth of that magic fascination which I had so often heard attributed to him; and even at this moment, Sire, when I recollect that fine countenance, on which I thought I perceived elevation of mind, and the love and desire of glory, I cannot help asking myself how your Majesty comes to be here, how those atrocious ministers could induce him to declare himself the gaoler, the...?” “My dear Sir,” said the Emperor, “perhaps you were no physiognomist; you took the halo of coquetry for that of greatness; the study to please for the love of glory; and, besides, the love of glory is not exactly in the face; it is in the recesses of the heart, and you did not search there.[^[27]]

“But were you not translating to me, the other day,” said the Emperor, "some journal or work, in which it was stated that the Prince Regent had made a great display of sympathy towards the last Stuarts; that he had paid the most extravagant prices for things which had belonged to, and been left by them; that he had talked of raising a monument to the last of them? There is much more calculation than magnanimity in all that; it is because he is anxious to establish and consecrate their extinction. From that event his legitimacy and security date; and he is in the right. If, in my time, and under the circumstances into which the English Ministers had plunged the nation, there had been some young Stuart, of a brave and enterprising character, equal to the present age, he would have been landed in Ireland, escorted by the modern doctrines; and then we should undoubtedly have seen the regenerate Stuarts driving out the degenerate Brunswicks. England would have had its 20th of March. Such are thrones and their contagious influence; scarcely is one seated there when the poison begins to operate. These Brunswicks, brought in by liberal ideas, raised by the will of the people, have no sooner ascended the throne, than they grasp at arbitrary and despotic power; they must absolutely drive their wheels in the track which overturned their predecessors; and this because they are become Kings! And it should seem that this is the inevitable course! That fine stem of the Nassaus, for instance, those patrons of noble independence in Europe, whose liberalism ought to be in the blood, and even in the marrow of their bones; those Nassaus, who, as far as regards their dominions, would be only at the tail, and who might by their doctrines, place themselves at the head,—they have just been placed on a throne; well, you will infallibly see them concern themselves about nothing but becoming what they call legitimates; and adopt the principles, the proceedings, and the errors of that class.

“Nay, after all, my dear Sir, has not the same thing been said of me, myself? and perhaps not without some appearance of reason; for probably many circumstances may have escaped my observation. Nevertheless I declared, on a solemn occasion, that in my estimation the sovereign power was not in the title, nor the throne in its splendour. It has been said of me, that scarcely had I attained power, when I exercised a despotic and arbitrary sway; but it was rather a Dictatorship; and the circumstances of the times will be a sufficient excuse for me. I have also been reproached with having suffered myself to be intoxicated with pride at my alliance with the house of Austria, and having thought myself more truly a sovereign after my marriage; in fact, of having considered myself from that time as Alexander, become the son of a god! But can all this be just? Did I really fall into such errors? A young, handsome, agreeable, woman fell to my lot; was it inadmissible for me to testify some satisfaction? Could I not devote a few moments to her without incurring blame? Was I not to be allowed to abandon myself to a few hours of happiness? Was I required to use my wife ill from the very first night, like your Prince ——? Or was I, like the Sultan we have read of, to have her head struck off, in order to escape the reproaches of the multitude? No! my only fault in that alliance was that of carrying too plebeian a heart with me. How often have I said that the heart of a statesman ought only to be in his head. Mine, unfortunately, in this instance, remained in its place, subject to family feelings, and this marriage ruined me; because I believed, above all things, in the religion, the piety, the morality, and the honour of Francis I. He has cruelly deceived me. I am willing to believe that he was himself deceived; and I forgive him with all my heart. But will history spare him? If, however,...”

Here Napoleon was silent for a few moments, resting his head on one of his hands; then resuming, “But what a romance is my life!” said he, rising. “Open the door, and let us walk.” And we walked up and down the adjoining rooms, for some time.