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

by comte de Emmanuel-Auguste-Dieudonné Las Cases

Chap. V.—The blood of the Imperial dynasty mingled with that

of all the monarchical Houses in Europe; with those of Russia, Prussia, England, and Austria.

The Imperial House of France contracted alliances with all the sovereign families of Europe. Prince Eugéne Napoleon, the adopted son of the Emperor, married the eldest daughter of the King of Bavaria, a princess distinguished for her beauty and her virtues. This alliance, which was contracted at Munich on the 14th of January, 1806, afforded the highest satisfaction to the Bavarian nation. The Hereditary Prince of Baden, the brother-in-law of the Emperor of Russia, solicited the hand of Princess Stephanie, the adopted daughter of the Emperor Napoleon: this marriage was celebrated at Paris on the 7th of April, 1806. On the 22d of August, 1807, Prince Jerome Napoleon married the eldest daughter of the King of Wurtemburg, cousin-german of the Emperor of Russia, the King of England, and the King of Prussia. Other alliances of this nature were contracted with sovereign princes of Germany, of the House of Hohenzollern. These marriages have proved happy, and all have given birth to princes and princesses, who will transmit to future generations the recollection of the Imperial government of France.

“When the interests of France and the Empire induced the Emperor and the Empress Josephine to break bonds which were equally dear to them both, the greatest sovereigns in Europe courted the Alliance of Napoleon. Had it not been for religious scruples, and the delays occasioned by distance, it is probable that a Russian princess would have occupied the throne of France. The Archduchess Maria Louisa, who was married to the Emperor by procuration granted to Prince Charles, at Vienna, on the 11th of March, 1810, and at Paris on the 2d of April following, ascended the throne of France. As soon as the Emperor of Austria learned that Napoleon’s marriage was in agitation, he expressed his surprise that an alliance with the House of Austria had not been thought of. The choice was hitherto divided between a Russian and a Saxon princess: Francis explained his sentiments on this subject to the Count de Narbonne, the Governor of Trieste, who was then at Vienna; and, in consequence, instructions were forwarded to the Prince of Schwartzenberg, the Austrian ambassador at Paris. In February, 1810, a Privy Council was convoked at the Tuileries: the Minister for Foreign Affairs submitted to the Council the despatches of the Duke of Vicenza, the French ambassador at the Court of Russia. These communications shewed that the Emperor Alexander was very much disposed to give his sister, the Grand-duchess Anne, in marriage to Napoleon; but he seemed to make it a point of importance that the Princess should be allowed the public exercise of her religious worship, and a chapel appropriated to the Greek rites. The despatches from Vienna developed the insinuations and the wishes of the Austrian Court. There was a division of opinions in the French Council: the Russian, the Saxon, and the Austrian alliance, all found supporters; but the majority voted for the choice of an Archduchess of Austria. As Prince Eugéne had been the first to propose the Austrian alliance, the Emperor, breaking up the sitting at two in the morning, authorized him to make overtures with Prince Schwartzenberg. He at the same time authorized the Minister for Foreign Affairs to sign, in the course of the day, the contract of marriage with the Austrian ambassador; and, to obviate all difficulties with respect to the details, he directed him to sign, word for word, the same contract as that which had been drawn up for the marriage of Louis XVI. and the Archduchess Marie-Antoinette. In the morning, Prince Eugéne had an interview with Prince Schwartzenberg: the contract was signed the same day, and the courier who conveyed the intelligence to Austria agreeably surprised the Emperor Francis. The peculiar circumstances attending the signature of this marriage contract led the Emperor Alexander to suspect that he had been trifled with, and that the Court of the Tuileries had been conducting two negotiations at once. But this was a mistake: the negotiation with Vienna was begun and concluded in one day.[^[23]]

“Never did the birth of any Prince excite so much enthusiasm in a people, or produce so powerful a sensation throughout Europe, as the birth of the King of Rome. On the firing of the first gun, which announced the delivery of the Empress, the whole population of Paris was in the most anxious suspense. In the streets, the promenades, at the places of public amusement, and in the interior of the houses, all were eagerly intent on counting the number of guns. The twenty-second excited universal transport: it had been usual to discharge twenty-one guns on the birth of a Princess, and a hundred and one on the birth of a Prince. All the European Powers deputed the most distinguished noblemen of their Courts to present their congratulations to the Emperor. The Emperor of Russia sent his Minister of the Interior; and the Emperor of Austria despatched Count Clary, one of his highest officers of the crown, who brought, as presents to the young King, the collars of all the Orders of the Austrian Monarchy set with diamonds. The baptism of the King of Rome was celebrated with the utmost pomp, in the presence of the French bishops, and deputies from all parts of the Empire. The Emperor of Austria was sponsor to the young king by proxy; he was represented by his brother, the Archduke Ferdinand, Grand-Duke of Tuscany.

Chap. VI.—Containing some account of the campaign of Saxony,[^[24]]

and shewing that the league of 1813 was in its object foreign to the Restoration.

“The victories of Lützen and Würtzen, on the 2nd and 22nd of May, 1813, had re-established the reputation of the French arms. The King of Saxony was brought back in triumph to his capital; the enemy was driven from Hamburg; one of the corps of the grand army was at the gates of Berlin, and the imperial head-quarters were established at Breslau. The Russian and Prussian armies, disheartened by their defeats, had no alternative but to repass the Vistula, when Austria interfered and advised France to sign an armistice. Napoleon returned to Dresden, the Emperor of Austria quitted Vienna and repaired to Bohemia, and the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia established themselves at Schweidnitz. Communications took place between the different Powers. Count Metternich proposed the Congress of Prague, which was agreed on; but it was merely the shadow of a Congress. The Court of Vienna had already entered into engagements with Russia and Prussia, and intended to declare itself in the month of May, when the unexpected success of the French army rendered greater circumspection necessary. Notwithstanding all the efforts which Austria had exerted, her army was still inconsiderable in number, badly organized, and ill prepared to enter upon a campaign. Count Metternich demanded, on the part of Austria, the surrender of the Illyrian Provinces, one half of the kingdom of Italy, (that is to say, Venice, as far as the Mincio,) and Poland. It was moreover required that Napoleon should renounce the Protectorate of Germany, and the departments of the thirty-second military division. These extravagant propositions were advanced only that they might be rejected. The Duke of Vicenza proceeded to the Congress of Prague. The choice of Baron d’Anstetten, as the Russian plenipotentiary, shewed that Russia wished not for peace, but was merely anxious to afford Austria time to complete her military preparations. The unfavourable augury, occasioned by the selection of Baron d’Anstetten as a negotiator, was confirmed: he declined entering upon any conference. Austria, who pretended to act as mediatrix, declared, when her army was in readiness, that she adhered to the coalition, though she did not even require the opening of a single sitting, or the drawing up of a single protocol. This system of bad faith, and of perpetual contradictions between words and acts, was unremittingly pursued, at this period, by the Court of Vienna. The war was resumed. The brilliant victory gained by the Emperor at Dresden, on the 27th of August, 1813, over the army commanded by the three Sovereigns, was immediately followed by the disasters which Macdonald, through his ill-concerted manœuvres, brought upon himself in Silesia, and by the destruction of Vandamme’s force in Bohemia. However, the superiority was still on the side of the French army, which supported itself on three points, viz: Torgau, Wittenberg, and Magdeburg. Denmark had concluded a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, and her contingent augmented the army of Hamburg.

“In October, the Emperor quitted Dresden to proceed to Magdeburg, by the left bank of the Elbe, in order to deceive the enemy. His intention was to recross the Elbe at Wittenburg and to march on Berlin. Several corps of the army had already arrived at Wittenburg, and the enemy’s bridges at Dessau had been destroyed, when a letter from the King of Wurtemburg informed the Emperor that the King of Bavaria had suddenly gone over to the enemy; and that, without any declaration of war or any previous intimation, the Austrian and Bavarian forces, cantoned on the banks of the Inn, had formed themselves into one camp; that these forces, amounting to 80,000, under the orders of General Wrede, were marching on the Rhine; that he (the King of Wurtemberg), seeing the impossibility of his opposing this united force, had been obliged to add his contingent to it. The letter farther added that 100,000 men would soon surround Mentz, the Bavarians having made common cause with Austria. Upon receiving this unexpected intelligence, the Emperor found himself compelled to change the plan of the campaign which he had projected two months previously, and for which he had prepared the fortresses and magazines. This plan had for its object to drive the Allies between the Elbe and the Saale; and, under the protection of the fortresses and magazines of Torgau, Wittemberg, Magdeburg, and Hamburg, to establish the seat of war between the Elbe and the Oder (the French army being at that time in possession of the fortresses of Glogau, Cüstrin, and Stettin), and, according to circumstances, to raise the blockades of the fortresses of the Vistula, Dantzick, Thorn, and Modlin. It was anticipated that the success of this vast plan would have been the means of breaking up the coalition, and that, in consequence, all the German Princes would have been confirmed in their allegiance and their alliance with France. It was hoped that Bavaria would have delayed for a fortnight to change sides, and then it was certain that she would not have changed at all.

“The armies met on the plains of Leipsic, on the 16th of October. The French were victorious; the Austrians were beaten and driven from all their positions; and Count Meerfeld, who commanded one of the Austrian corps, was made prisoner. On the 18th, notwithstanding the check sustained by the Duke of Ragusa on the 16th, victory was still on the side of the French, when the whole of the Saxon army, with a battery of sixty guns, occupying one of the most important positions of the line, passed over to the enemy, and turned its artillery on the French ranks. Such unlooked-for treachery could not but cause the destruction of the French army, and transfer all the glory of the day to the Allies. The Emperor galloped forward with half his guard, repulsed the Swedes and Saxons, and drove them from their positions. This day (the 18th) was now ended: the enemy made a retrograde movement along the whole of his line, and bivouacked in the rear of the field of battle, which remained in the possession of the French. In the night, the French army made a movement, in order to take its position behind the Elster, and thus to be in direct communication with Erfurt, whence were expected the convoys of ammunition that were so much wanted. In the engagements of the 16th and 18th, the French army had fired more than 150,000 discharges of cannon. The treachery of several of the German corps of the Confederation, who were seduced by the example of the Saxons on the preceding day, and the destruction of the bridge of Leipsic, which was blown up by mistake, occasioned the French army, though victorious, to experience the losses which usually result from the most disastrous engagements. The French re-crossed the Saale by the bridge of Weissenfeld: they intended to rally their forces, and await the arrival of the ammunition from Erfurt, which had abundant supplies.

“Intelligence was now received of the Austro-Bavarian army, which, by forced marches, had reached the Maine. It was necessary therefore to repair thither, in order to come up with the Bavarians; and, on the 30th of October, the French fell in with them, drawn up in order of battle before Hanau and intercepting the Frankfort roads. The Bavarian force, though numerous, and occupying fine positions, was completely routed, and driven beyond Hanau, which was in the possession of Count Bertrand. General Wrede was wounded. The French forces continued their movement with the view of falling back behind the Rhine, and they re-crossed the river on the 2nd of November. A parley ensued: Baron de St. Aignan repaired to Frankfort, where he had conferences with Counts Metternich and Nesselrode and Lord Aberdeen, and he arrived at Paris with proposals for peace on the following bases:—That the Emperor Napoleon should renounce the Protectorship of the Confederation of the Rhine, Poland, and the departments of the Elbe; but that France should retain her boundaries of the Alps and the Rhine, together with the possession of Holland, and that a frontier line in Italy should be determined upon, for separating France from the States of the House of Austria.[Austria.] The Emperor agreed to these bases; but the Congress of Frankfort, like that of Prague, was merely a stratagem employed in the hope that France would reject the terms which were proposed. It was wished to have a new subject for a manifesto to operate on the public mind; for at the moment when these conciliatory propositions were made, the Allied army was violating the neutrality of the cantons, and entering Switzerland. However, the Allies at last developed their real intentions; they named Chatillon-sur-Seine, in Burgundy, as the seat of the Congress. The battles of Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, and Montereau, destroyed the armies of Blucher and Witgenstein. No negotiations took place at Chatillon; but the coalesced Powers presented an ultimatum, the conditions of which were as follows:

“1st, That France should surrender the whole of Italy, Belgium, Holland, and the departments of the Rhine; 2nd, that France should return to her limits as they existed previously to 1792. The Emperor rejected this ultimatum. He consented to sacrifice Holland and Italy to the circumstances in which France was then placed; but he refused to resign the limits of the Alps and the Rhine, or to surrender Belgium and particularly Antwerp. Treason secured the triumph of the Allies, notwithstanding the victories of Arcis and St. Dizier. Hitherto the Allies had intimated no design of interfering in the internal affairs of France; this is proved by the ultimatum of Chatillon, signed by England, Austria, Russia, and Prussia. At length, however, some of the returned emigrants, excited by the presence of the Austrian, Russian, and Prussian armies, in whose ranks they had long borne arms, imagined that the moment had arrived in which their dreams were to be realized: some mounted the white cockade, and others displayed the cross of St. Louis. This conduct was disapproved by the Allied Sovereigns; and it was even censured by Wellington at Bourdeaux, though in reality he secretly favoured all who endeavoured to raise the ensigns of the House of Bourbon. In the transactions which detached Prussia from her alliance with France, and bound her to Russia by the treaty of Kalisch; in the treaty which united Austria with the coalition; in the diplomatic proceedings, public and private, which took place down to the treaty of Chatillon; and even in that concluded in France, in 1814, the Allies never made any reference to the Bourbons.”

The VIIth, VIIIth, and IXth Chapters shew that the Bourbons after their return ought to have commenced a fifth dynasty, and not to have endeavoured to continue the third. The first course would have rendered all easy, the second has involved every thing in difficulty.

The Xth Chapter closes with a passage of a few lines which forcibly describe the magical effect of the Emperor’s return on the 20th of March. These last chapters contain the most nervous and energetic writing, but the applications are direct, and indeed often personal. I have suppressed the details, because I wish not to afford any ground for my being accused of bringing forward a hostile statement. Time, which modifies all things, will render this work merely an historical document, which is the only light in which I wish it to be considered here, as well, indeed, as all works of a similar nature that I may think it necessary to quote. I have written in France and other countries, under different laws and circumstances, and I have always found the liberty of the press existing for me.

I hope to experience its influence on the present occasion, although my subject is one of a most delicate nature. I now look forward to the speedy termination of my voyage; the port is within sight, and I hope to reach it safely, in spite of all the shoals I may encounter.

MY DOMESTIC AFFAIRS.—THE EMPEROR’S VIEWS IN
HIS MUNIFICENCE.

9th—10th. The Emperor passed a bad night. He desired me to be called early in the morning. When I went to him, he told me that he was half dead, that he had had no rest, and was feverish. He has continued very ill for these two days, and has reclined almost constantly on his couch, which in the evenings is drawn near the fire. He has been unable to eat, and has drunk nothing but warm lemonade. I have been in continual attendance on him during these two days; he has enjoyed a little sleep at intervals, and the rest of the time he has spent in conversing with me upon various subjects. He spoke of the expense of giving parties in Paris; and, passing from that subject to my domestic affairs, he expressed a wish that I should make him acquainted with the minutest details on that point.

I told him that my income had amounted only to 20,000 francs a year, 15,000 of which were derived from my own property, and 5000 from my salary as a Councillor of State. On hearing this he exclaimed: “You must have been mad! How could you venture to approach the Tuileries with so straitened an income? The expenses of attending the Court were enormous!”—“Sire,” I replied, “I contrived to keep up my dignity as well as the rest: and yet I never solicited any thing from your Majesty.” The Emperor observed, “I do not say you did; but you must have been ruined in less than four or five years.”—“No, Sire,” I rejoined, “I had been an emigrant during the greater part of my life; I had lived amidst privations, and, with a few exceptions, I still subjected myself to them. It is true that, in spite of all my economy, I ran through 7 or 8000 francs of my capital every year. But I calculated thus: it was well known that every person about you must, by dint of zeal and attention to their duties, sooner or later, attract your notice, and that he who once gained your favour might consider his fortune made. I had still four or five years left to try this chance; at the expiration of which, if fortune did not smile on me, I was determined to renounce the illusions of the world, and to retire from the capital with an income of ten or twelve thousand livres; poor enough, to be sure, but, nevertheless, richer than ever I had been in Paris.”—“Well,” said the Emperor, “your scheme was not a bad one, and the moment had just arrived when you would have been indemnified for all your losses. I was just about to do something for you, and it was wholly your own fault that you did not make a more rapid and brilliant fortune. I believe I have told you before that you did not know how to avail yourself of favourable opportunities for securing your own advancement.”

This conversation led us to speak of the enormous sums which the Emperor had lavished on the persons about him, and, gradually becoming animated, he said:—“It would be difficult to estimate all that I bestowed in this way. I might, on more than one occasion, have been accused of profusion, and I am grieved to see that it has been of little use in any respect. There must certainly have been some fatality on my part, or some essential fault in the persons whom I favoured. What a difficulty was I placed in! It cannot be believed that my extravagance was caused by personal vanity. To act the part of an Asiatic monarch was not a thing to my taste. I was not actuated either by vanity or caprice; every thing was with me a matter of calculation. Though certain persons might be favourites with me, yet I did not lavish my bounty on them merely because I liked them: I wished to found, through them, great families, who might form rallying-points in great national crises. The great Officers of my Household, as well as all my Ministers, independently of their enormous salaries, often received from me handsome gratuities,—sometimes complete services of plate, &c. What was my object in this profuseness? I required that they should maintain elegant establishments, give grand dinners and brilliant balls!—And why did I wish this? In order to amalgamate parties, to form new unions, to smooth down old asperities, and to give a character to French society and manners. If I conceived good ideas, they miscarried in the execution: for instance, none of my chief Courtiers ever kept up a suitable establishment. If they gave dinners, they invited only their party friends; and when I attended their expensive balls, whom did I find there? All the Court of the Tuileries: not a new face; not one of those who were offended at the new system—those sullen malcontents, whom a little honey would have brought back to the hive. They could not enter into my views, or did not wish to do so. In vain I expressed displeasure, intreated, and commanded: things still went on in the same way. I could not be every-where at once, and they knew that;—and yet it was affirmed that I ruled with a rod of iron. How, then, must things go under gentle sovereigns?”

REMOVAL OF THE EMPEROR’S BED.—ANECDOTE OF A
GASCON SOLDIER.—THE GUARDS OF THE EAGLE.

11th.—The Emperor continued unwell. I found him very low-spirited. He had ordered the situation of his bed to be changed—that bed, so long the constant companion of his victories, was now a couch of sickness. He complained that it was too small for him, that he could hardly turn himself in it; but his chamber would not have afforded room for a longer one. He ordered the camp-bed to be carried into his cabinet, and placed beside a couch; so that the two combined formed a bed of tolerable size. To what an extremity is he reduced! The Emperor stretched himself on his sofa, and entered into conversation, which revived him a little. Speaking of his accession to the Consulship, and of the dreadful disorders which he found existing in all the branches of the public service, he said that he had been compelled to adopt numerous measures of reform, which caused a great outcry, but which had not a little contributed to strengthen the bonds of society. These measures extended to the army, among the officers, and even among the generals, who, he said, had become such, Heaven knows how. Here I took the liberty to relate an anecdote which had at one time afforded great amusement to the circle in which I moved. One of my friends, (who was as dissatisfied with the then existing government as I was myself,) travelling in one of the small Versailles[Versailles] diligences with a soldier of the guard, maliciously excited him to express his opinions. The man complained that every thing went wrong, because it was required that a soldier should know how to read and write before he could be advanced from the ranks. “So you see,” he exclaimed, “the tic has returned again.”[^[25]] This phrase pleased us, and was often repeated among us. “Well,” observed the Emperor, “what would your soldier have said when I created the Guards of the Eagle? That measure would, doubtless, have re-established me in his good opinion. I appointed two sub-officers to be the special guards of the Eagle in every regiment, one of whom was placed on either side of the standard; and, lest their ardour in the midst of the conflict might cause them to lose sight of the only object which they ought to have in view, namely, the preservation of the Eagle, they were prohibited from using the sabre or the sword: their only arms were a few braces of pistols; their only duty was coolly to blow out the brains of the enemy who might attempt to lay hands on the Eagle. But, before a man could obtain this post, he was required to prove that he could neither read nor write, and of course you guess the reason why.” “No, Sire.” “Why, simpleton! Every man who has received education is sure to rise in the army, but the soldier who has not these advantages, never attains advancement except by dint of courage and extraordinary circumstances.”

As I was in the humour for gossiping, I related another anecdote, which had also produced merriment in the saloons of Paris. It was said that, a regiment having lost its Eagle, Napoleon harangued the men on the subject, and expressed great indignation at the dishonour they had brought upon themselves by suffering their Eagle to be taken. “But we tricked the enemy,” exclaimed a Gascon soldier, “they have only got the staff, for here is the cuckoo in my pocket;” and he produced the Eagle. The Emperor laughed and said, “Well, I could not venture to affirm that this circumstance, or something very like it, did not actually take place. My soldiers were very much at their ease and made very free with me; often addressing me familiarly by the pronoun thou.”

I mentioned having heard that on the eve of the battle of Jena, or some other great engagement, as Napoleon was passing a particular station, accompanied by a very small escort, a soldier refused to let him pass, and, growing angry when the Emperor insisted on advancing, swore that he should not pass even though he were the Little Corporal himself. When the soldier ascertained that it was really the Little Corporal, he was not at all disconcerted. The Emperor observed, “That was because he felt the conviction of having done his duty; and indeed the fact is that I passed for a terrible tyrant in the saloons, and even among the officers of the army, but not among the soldiers: they possessed the instinct of truth and sympathy, they knew me to be their protector, and, in case of need, their avenger.”

THE EMPEROR CONTINUES UNWELL.—HORRIBLE
PROVISIONS, EXECRABLE WINE, &C.

12th.—To-day the Emperor, although no better than he had been for some days past, determined, as he said, to nurse himself no longer. He dressed and repaired to the drawing-room, where he dictated, for two or three hours, to one of his suite. He had eaten nothing for three days: he had not yet been relieved by the crisis which he expected, and which is usually produced by the singular regimen which he prescribes for himself. He continued drinking warm lemonade. This circumstance led him to inquire how long a person might live without eating, and how far drink might supply the place of solid food. He sent for the Encyclopedia Britannica, in which he met with some very curious facts: for instance, he found that a woman had existed for fifty days without solid food, and drinking only twice. Another instance was mentioned of a person who had lived twenty days upon water alone.

Somebody observed, in reference to this subject, that Charles XII., out of pure contradiction to the opinions of those around him, had abstained from eating for the space of five or six days, at the expiration of which, however, he devoured a turkey and a leg of mutton, at the hazard of bursting. Napoleon laughed at this anecdote, and assured us that he felt no wish to run to such extremes, however attractive the model might be in other respects.

The Emperor played a game at piquet with Madame de Montholon. The Grand Marshal having entered, he left off playing, and asked him how he thought he looked. Bertrand replied, “Only rather sallow;” which was indeed the case. The Emperor rose good-humouredly, and pursued Bertrand into the saloon, in order to catch him by the ear, exclaiming, “Rather sallow, indeed! Do you intend to insult me. Grand Marshal? Do you mean to say that I am bilious, morose, atrabilarious, passionate, unjust, tyrannical! Let me catch hold of your ear, and I will take my revenge.”

The dinner-hour arrived, and the Emperor for some time was undecided whether he would sit down to table with us, or dine alone in his own room. He decided upon the latter plan, lest, as he said, he should be tempted to imitate Charles XII. if he sat at the great table: but he would have found it difficult to do that. He returned while we were at dinner, and, from the scanty way in which our table was served, he said he really pitied us, for in fact we had scarcely any thing to eat. This circumstance induced the Emperor to resort to a painful extremity: he instantly gave orders that a portion of his plate should be sold every month, to supply what was necessary for our table. The worst thing connected with our wretched dinner was the wine, which had for some days been execrable, and had made us all unwell. We were obliged to send for some to the camp, in the hope that that which had been furnished to us would be changed, as we could not drink it.

In the course of a conversation which took place respecting the wine, the Emperor stated that he had received a great number of instructions and directions from chemists and physicians, all of whom had concurred in declaring that wine and coffee were the two things respecting which it was most necessary he should be on his guard. Every professional man had cautioned him to reject both wine and coffee if he found any unpleasant flavour in them. Wine, in particular, he was advised to abstain from, if he found any thing uncommon in the taste of it. He had always been in the habit of getting his wine from Chambertin, and had therefore, seldom occasion to find fault with it; but the case is different now, if he had refused wine whenever he found any thing uncommon in it, he must have abstained from it for a considerable time past.

CRITICISM ON PRINCE LUCIEN’S POEM OF
CHARLEMAGNE.—HOMER.

13th.—The weather is very bad; and it has continued so for three weeks or a month. The Emperor sent for me before one o’clock: he was in his saloon; our Amphitryon had paid me a visit, and I took him to the Emperor, who spoke to him on matters of a private and personal nature.

Napoleon is much altered in his looks.—To-day he wished to set to work. I sent for my son, and he went over the chapters relating to the Pope and Tagliamento. He continued thus employed until five o’clock. He was very low-spirited, and appeared to be suffering much; he retired, saying he would try to eat a little.

Two ships came within sight, one was supposed to be the Eurydice, which was every moment expected to arrive from Europe, having touched at the Cape: they proved to be, however, one of the Company’s ships and another vessel that was accidentally passing the island.

The Emperor came to us while we were at dinner; he said he had eaten enough for four persons, and that this had quite restored him.

He wanted something to read, and looked over his brother Lucien’s poem of Charlemagne. He analysed the first canto, and afterwards glanced over a few others: he then examined the subject and the plan of the work, &c. “How much labour, ingenuity and time,” he observed, “have been thrown away upon this book! what a wreck of judgment and taste! Here are twenty thousand verses, some of which may be good, for aught I know; but they are destitute of interest, design, or effect. It might have been regarded as a compulsory task, had it been written by a professed author. Why did not Lucien, with all his good sense, consider that Voltaire, master as he was of the French language and the art of poetry, failed in a similar attempt, though that attempt was made in Paris, in the midst of the sanctuary! How could Lucien suppose it possible to write a French poem, when living at a distance from the French capital? How could he pretend to introduce a new metre? He has written a history in verse, and not an epic poem. An epic poem should not be the history of a man, but of a passion or an event. And, then, what a subject has Lucien chosen! What barbarous names has he introduced! Does he think he has succeeded in raising the religion which he conceived to be fallen? Is his poem intended as a work of re-action? It certainly bears the stamp of the soil on which it was written: it is full of prayers, priests, the temporal authority of the Popes, &c. How could he think of devoting twenty thousand lines to absurdities which do not belong to the present age, to prejudices which he could not enter into, and opinions which he could not entertain! What a misapplication of talent! He might undoubtedly have produced something more creditable to himself; for he possesses judgment, facility, and industry. He was in Rome amidst the richest materials, and with the means of satisfying the deepest research. He understands the Italian language: and, as we have no good history of Italy, he might have written one. His talents, his situation, his knowledge of affairs, his rank, might have enabled him to produce an excellent classic work. It would have been a valuable acquisition to the literary world, and would have conferred honour on its author. But what is Charlemagne? What reputation will it gain? It will be buried in the dust of libraries, and its author will obtain at most a few scanty and perhaps ridiculous notices in biographical dictionaries. If Lucien could not resist the temptation of scribbling verses, he should have prepared a splendid manuscript, embellished with elegant designs and superb binding, with which he might now and then have gratified the eyes of the ladies, occasionally allowing a few quotations from it to creep into publicity; and finally he should have left it to his heirs, with a severe prohibition against committing it to the press. One might then have been able to understand his taste.”

He laid the work aside, and said: “Let us turn to the Iliad.” My son went to fetch it, and the Emperor read a few cantos, stopping at various passages, in order, as he said, to admire them at his ease. His observations were copious and remarkable. He was so deeply interested in what he read, that it was half-past twelve before he retired to rest.

SCARCITY OF PROVISIONS.—RIDICULOUS ALLOWANCE OF
WINE.—NAPOLEON’S RETURN FROM ELBA.

14th.—The terrible state of the weather still continued, and confined us to our miserable huts. We are all indisposed.

The Emperor dictated during part of the day, and he felt himself much better.

At dinner we had literally scarcely any thing to eat. The Governor continued his successive reductions. The Emperor ordered some additional provisions to be purchased and paid for out of the produce of the sale of his plate.

The Governor intimated that the allowance of wine should continue fixed at one bottle for each person, the Emperor included. Will it be credited? One bottle for a mother and her children! these were the words used in the note.

The Emperor retired to his own apartment, and sent for me to attend him. “I am not inclined to sleep,” said he, “and I sent for you to help me to keep my vigil; let us have a little chat together.” The turn of the conversation led us to speak of the Island of Elba, of the Emperor’s occupations, sensations, and opinions while he continued there; finally, his return to France, and the brilliant success which attended him, and which, he said, he never for a moment doubted. Many observations were repeated, which I have already noted down at different times. At one moment he said: “They may explain this as they will: but I assure you, I never entertained any direct or personal hatred of those whose power I subverted. To me it was merely a political contest: I was astonished myself to find my heart free from animosity, and, I may add, animated by good will towards my enemies. You saw how I released the Duke d’Angoulême; and I would have done the same by the King, and even have granted him an asylum of his own choosing. The triumph of the cause in no way depended on his person, and I respected his age and his misfortunes. Perhaps also I felt grateful for a certain degree of consideration which he in particular had observed towards me. It is true that, at the moment to which I am now alluding, he had, I believe, outlawed me and set a price upon my head; but I looked upon all this as belonging to the manifesto style. The same kind of denunciations were also issued by the Austrian government, without, however, giving me much uneasiness; though I must confess that my dear father-in-law was rather too hard with the husband of his beloved daughter.”

Since I have once more had occasion to mention the Emperor’s return from the Island of Elba, this is, perhaps, the proper place to fulfil the promise I have made of giving a narrative of the circumstances connected with that extraordinary event. I here combine together the statements that fell from him at different times.

Napoleon was residing at the Island of Elba, on the faith of treaties, when he learned that at the Congress of Vienna some idea was entertained of transporting him from Europe. None of the articles of the treaty of Fontainebleau were fulfilled. The public papers informed him of the state of feeling in France, and he accordingly formed his determination. He kept the secret until the last moment;[^[26]] and, under one pretence or another, means were found for making the requisite preparations. It was not until they were all on board that the troops first conceived a suspicion of the Emperor’s purpose: a thousand or twelve hundred men had set sail to regain possession of an empire containing a population of thirty millions!

There were nearly five or six hundred men on board the brig in which Napoleon embarked; this was, he said, the crew of a seventy-four. They fell in with a French brig of war, which they spoke. It was asserted that the captain of the French brig recognised them, and at parting cried out three times, “A good voyage to you!” At all events, the officer who commanded the Emperor’s vessel, proposed to pursue and capture the brig. The Emperor rejected the idea as absurd; such a proceeding could only have been excusable, had necessity demanded it. “Why,” said he, “should I introduce this new incident into my plan? What advantage should I derive from its success? To what risks would its failure expose me!”

After the check they experienced on landing, by the capture of twenty men who had been sent to summon Antibes, a variety of opinions was advanced, and urged with some warmth. Some proposed that they should make immediately an attack and carry Antibes, in order to obviate the evil consequences which might ensue from the resistance of that place and the imprisonment of the twenty men. The Emperor replied that the taking of Antibes would be no step towards the conquest of France; that, during the brief interval that would be occupied in the execution of that project, a general alarm would be raised throughout the country; and that obstacles would be opposed to them in the only course which it was expedient they should pursue. He added that time was valuable; and that the ill consequences of the affair of Antibes might be effectually obviated by marching forward with sufficient speed to anticipate the news. An officer of the guard indirectly hinted that it was not right thus to abandon the twenty men who had been made prisoners; but the Emperor merely observed that he had formed a poor idea of the magnitude of the enterprise; that, if half of his followers were in the same situation, he would not scruple to abandon them in the same manner; and that if they were all made prisoners, he would march forward alone.[^[27]]

A few hours before nightfall he landed at the gulf of Juan, where he bivouacked. Soon after, a postilion in splendid livery was conducted to him. It turned out that this man had formerly been in the Imperial household. He had been a domestic of the Empress Josephine’s, and was now in the service of the Prince of Monaco, who himself had been equerry to the Empress. The postilion, on being questioned by the Emperor, informed him, after expressing his great astonishment at finding him there, that he had just come from Paris, and that he was sure he would every where be joyfully greeted. He affirmed that all along the road, as far as Avignon[Avignon], he had heard nothing but regret for the Emperor’s absence; that his name was publicly in every mouth, and that, when once fairly through Provence, he would find the whole population ready to rally round him. The man added, that his splendid livery had frequently rendered him the object of odium and insult. This was the testimony of one of the common class of society: it was very gratifying to the Emperor, and entirely corresponded with his expectations. The Prince of Monaco himself, on being presented to Napoleon, was less explicit. Napoleon refrained from questioning him on political matters: there were persons present, and he did not wish to incur the risk of eliciting any detail which might create unfavourable impressions on those about him. The conversation therefore assumed a lively character, and turned entirely on the ladies of the Imperial court of the Tuileries, concerning whom Napoleon made the minutest inquiries.

As soon as the moon had risen, which was about one or two o’clock in the morning, the bivouack broke up, and Napoleon gave orders for proceeding to Grasse. There he expected to find a road which he had ordered during the Empire. However, the design had not been executed, and he was reduced to the necessity of passing through narrow defiles filled with snow. He therefore left behind him, in the charge of the municipality of Grasse, his carriage and two pieces of cannon, which had been brought ashore: this was termed a capture in the bulletins of the time.

The municipality of Grasse was devoted to the royalist party; but the sudden appearance of the Emperor afforded little time for hesitation, and they came to make their submission to him. The Emperor, having passed through the town, halted on a little height at some distance beyond it, where he breakfasted. He was soon surrounded by the whole population of the town: and went through this multitude as though he had been in the midst of his Court circle at the Tuileries. He heard the same sentiments and the same prayers as before he quitted France. One complained of not having received his pension, another solicited an addition to his allowance, a third represented that his cross of the legion of honour had been withheld from him, a fourth prayed for promotion, &c. A number of petitions had already been drawn up and were presented to him, just as though he had come from Paris, and was making a tour through the departments.

Some enthusiastic patriots, who were well acquainted with the state of affairs, secretly informed Napoleon that the authorities of the place were very hostile, but that the mass of the people were devoted to him, and that they only waited until his back should be turned, in order to rid themselves of the miscreants. “Be not too hasty,” said the Emperor. “Let them have the mortification of seeing our triumph, without having any thing to reproach us with. Be tranquil and prudent.”

The Emperor advanced with the rapidity of lightning. “Victory,” said he, “depended[“depended] on my speed. To me France was in Grenoble. This place was an hundred leagues distant, but I and my companions reached it in five days,[^[28]] and by what roads and what weather! I entered the city just as the Count d’Artois, warned by the telegraph, was quitting the Tuileries.”[Tuileries.”]

Napoleon himself was so perfectly convinced of the state of affairs, and of popular sentiment, that he knew his success in no way depended on the force which he might bring with him. A piquet of gendarmerie, he said, was all that was necessary. Every thing turned out as he had calculated: “Victory advanced au pas de charge, and the national Eagle flew from steeple to steeple, till at length it perched on the towers of Notre Dame.” The Emperor, however, admitted that at first he was not without some degree of alarm and uncertainty. As he advanced, it is true, the whole population enthusiastically declared themselves in his favour; but he saw no soldiers: they were all carefully removed from the places through which he passed. It was not until he was between Mure and Vizille, within five or six leagues of Grenoble, and on the fifth day after his embarkation, that he met the first battalion. The commanding officer refused even to parley. The Emperor, without hesitation, advanced alone, and one hundred of his grenadiers marched at some distance from him, with their arms reversed. The sight of Napoleon, his costume, and in particular his grey military great coat, produced a magical effect on the soldiers, and they stood motionless. Napoleon went straight up to a veteran, whose arm was covered with chevrons, and very unceremoniously seizing him by the whisker, asked him whether he would have the heart to kill his Emperor. The soldier, his eyes moistened with tears, immediately thrust the ramrod into his musquet, to shew that it was not loaded, and exclaimed, “See, I could not have done thee any harm: all the others are the same.” Cries of Vive l’Empereur! resounded on every side. Napoleon ordered the battalion to make half a turn to the right, and all marched on to Paris.

At a little distance from Grenoble, Colonel Labédoyère, at the head of his regiment, came to join the Emperor. The impulse was then confirmed, and the question was nearly decided.

The peasantry of Dauphiny lined the road-sides: they were transported and mad with joy. The first battalion, which has just been alluded to, still shewed some signs of hesitation; but thousands crowded on its rear, and by their shouts of Vive l’Empereur! endeavoured to urge the troops to decision; while others, who were in Napoleon’s rear, excited his little troop to advance, declaring that no harm whatever would be done to it.

In a valley through which they passed, a very affecting spectacle presented itself: many communes were assembled together, accompanied by their mayors and curates. Amidst the multitude was observed a handsome young man, a grenadier of the Guard, who had been missing since the time of Napoleon’s landing, and whose disappearance had given rise to suspicion. He now advanced and threw himself at the Emperor’s feet: the tears glistened in his eyes, and he supported in his arms an old man of ninety, whom he presented to the Emperor:—this was his father, in quest of whom he had set off as soon as he landed in France. The Emperor, after his arrival at the Tuileries, ordered a picture of this circumstance to be painted.

It was night when Napoleon arrived before the walls of Grenoble: his promptitude defeated all the measures that were to have been taken to oppose him. There was no time to cut down the bridges, nor even to put the troops in motion. He found the gates of the city closed, and the colonel commanding the fortress refused to open them. “A peculiar circumstance attending this extraordinary revolution,” said the Emperor, “was that the soldiers were not deficient, to a certain degree, in discipline and obedience to their commanding officers: their only resistance was by inert force, of which they availed themselves as of a right.” Thus the first battalion performed all the movements that were ordered, retired and refused to communicate; but the men did not load their guns, and they would not have fired. When Napoleon arrived before Grenoble, the whole garrison, assembled on the ramparts, shouted Vive l’Empereur! They shook hands with Napoleon’s followers, through the wickets; but they would not open the gates, because the commander had forbidden them to do so. The Emperor found it necessary to force the gates; and this was done under the mouths of ten pieces of artillery on the ramparts, loaded with grape-shot. To complete this union of singular circumstances, the commander of the first battalion and the colonel, who had so openly opposed the Emperor, when asked by him whether he could depend on them, replied that he could;—that their troops had deserted them, but that they would never desert their troops; and that, since the men had declared themselves for Napoleon, they also would be faithful to him. The Emperor retained these officers in his service.

In none of his battles did Napoleon ever imagine himself to be in so much danger as at his entrance into Grenoble. The soldiers seemed to turn upon him with furious gestures; for a moment it might have been supposed that they were about to tear him in pieces. But these were merely transports of love and joy. The Emperor and his horse were both borne along by the multitude; and he had scarcely time to breathe in the inn where he alighted, when an increased tumult was heard in the streets: the inhabitants of Grenoble came to offer him the gates of the city, since they could not present him with the keys.

“Being once established in Grenoble,” said the Emperor, “and having attained a positive power, I could have maintained hostilities had it been necessary to do so.”

Napoleon, at this time, very much regretted not having got his proclamations printed at the Island of Elba; but of course this could not have been done without the risk of promulgating his secret designs. He dictated his proclamations on board the brig, where every man who could write was employed in copying them. It was found necessary to transcribe them over again during the Emperor’s march to Paris, that they might be circulated on the road, so eager was the demand for them. They were then very scarce, often incorrect and even illegible; and yet the necessity of promulgating them was felt at every step, for wherever they were read they produced an immediate and powerful sensation. The events of the last twenty years have contributed in a high degree to enlighten the mass of the people, for, notwithstanding the joy they felt at the Emperor’s return, they eagerly enquired what was his object. All were satisfied with the national sentiments contained in the proclamations; and the utmost joy was evinced when it was understood that Napoleon had brought no foreign troops with him. His advance had been so rapid and his movements so unexpected, that a thousand reports had been circulated respecting the amount and nature of his forces. It was said that he was accompanied by Neapolitans, Austrians, and even Turks.

From Grenoble to Paris, Napoleon may be said to have made a triumphal march. During the four days of his stay at Lyons, there were continually upwards of twenty thousand persons assembled before his windows, and their acclamations were incessant. It would never have been supposed that the Emperor had for a moment been separated from his subjects. He signed decrees, issued orders, reviewed troops, &c.; all military corps, all public bodies, all classes[classes] of the citizens, eagerly came forward to offer him their homage and demonstrate their attachment. Even the national horse guards, a corps composed of men who had shewn themselves most ardent in the Royalist cause, solicited the honour of forming his escort; but these were the only persons whom the Emperor treated with coldness. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I thank you for this offer of your services; but your conduct towards the Count d’Artois sufficiently proves how you would act by me, were fortune to forsake me. I will not subject you to this new trial.” On quitting Lyons, the Count d’Artois, it is said, found only one of the guards willing to follow him to Paris. The Emperor, whose heart was so keenly alive to every generous sentiment, on hearing of the fidelity of this volunteer, ordered the decoration of the legion of honour to be presented to him.

At Lyons, Napoleon issued orders, through the medium of proclamations, with all that precision, firmness, and confidence, which usually attend established and uninterrupted power. His conduct indicated no trace of the terrible reverses he had so lately sustained, or the great risks he had yet to encounter. If it were possible to mention every circumstance, that took place, I could relate a very pleasant private anecdote indicative of the calmness of mind evinced by Napoleon, during the great crisis which was about to change the face of France and to rouse all Europe.

As soon as the Emperor quitted Lyons, he wrote to inform Ney, who, with his army, was at Lons-le-Saunier, that he must immediately march with his forces to join him. Ney, amidst the general confusion, abandoned by his troops, confounded by the Emperor’s proclamations, the addresses of Dauphiny, and the defection of the garrison of Lyons, overpowered by the enthusiasm of the people of the surrounding provinces—Ney, the child of the Revolution, yielded to the general impulse, and issued his famous order of the day. But the recollection of the events of Fontainebleau induced him to write to the Emperor, informing him that, in his recent conduct he had been guided principally by a view to the interests of his country; and that, convinced he must have forfeited all claim to Napoleon’s confidence, he solicited permission to retire from the service. The Emperor again wrote, desiring that he would immediately come and join him, and that he would receive him as he had done the day after the battle of the Moscowa. Ney, on presenting himself before the Emperor, was much embarrassed; and repeated that, if he had lost his confidence, he asked for nothing but to be reduced to the rank of one of his grenadiers. “Certainly,” said the Emperor, “he had behaved very ill to me; but how could I forget his brilliant courage, and the many acts of heroism that had distinguished his past life! I rushed forward to embrace him, calling him the ‘bravest of the brave’—and from that moment we were reconciled.”

The Emperor went nearly post haste all the way from Lyons to Paris. He no where experienced opposition, and no fighting took place. Literally his presence produced merely a theatrical change of scene. His advanced guard was composed of the troops which happened to be before him on the road, and to which couriers were sent forward. Thus Napoleon entered Paris, escorted by the very troops who in the morning had been sent out to oppose him. A regiment posted at Montereau spontaneously crossed the bridge, repaired to Melun, and charged a party of the body guards who were stationed at the latter place: this circumstance, it is said, occasioned the sudden departure of the Royal family.

The Emperor frequently told us that, if he had chosen, he might have brought with him to Paris two millions of peasants. On his approach the people every where rose in a mass; and he often repeats that there were no conspirators excepting opinion.

On the day after Napoleon’s arrival at the Tuileries, some one having remarked to him that his life was a succession of prodigies, but that the last surpassed all the rest, I heard him say in reply, that his only merit, in this instance, consisted in having formed a just opinion of the state of affairs in France, and in having been able to penetrate into the hearts of Frenchmen. At another time he said to us, when conversing on this subject: “If I except Labédoyère, who flew to me with enthusiasm and affection, and another individual who freely rendered me important services, nearly all the other generals whom I met on my route evinced hesitation and uncertainty: they yielded only to the impulse of their troops, if indeed they did not manifest a hostile feeling towards me.

“It is now clear to every one,” said he, “that Ney quitted Paris quite devoted to the King, and that if he turned against him a few days afterwards, it was because he thought he could not do otherwise.

“I was so far from relying at all on Massena that, on my landing in France, I felt it necessary to get past him with all speed; and on my asking him some time after, at Paris, how he would have acted, had I not left Provence so precipitately as I did, he was frank enough to reply that he should feel some embarrassment in answering me; but that the course I had pursued was, at all events, the safest, and the best.[best.]

“Saint-Cyr found himself in danger by attempting to restrain the soldiers under his command.

“Soult confessed to me that he had conceived a sincere regard for the King, so much did he admire his government; and he would not return to my service until after the Champ de Mai.

“Macdonald never made his appearance, and the Duke of Belluno followed the King to Ghent. Thus,” said he, “if the Bourbons have reason to complain of the complete desertion of the soldiers and the people, they certainly have no right to reproach with infidelity the chiefs of the army, those pupils or even leaders of the Revolution, who, in spite of twenty-five years’ experience, proved themselves, in this instance, mere children in politics. They could neither be looked upon as emigrants nor patriots!”

Napoleon seemed instinctively attached to his grand principle of acting only on masses and by masses. Both at the commencement of the enterprise, and after his landing in France, he was repeatedly urged to treat with some of the authorities, but he constantly returned the same excellent answer: “If I still hold a place in the hearts of the people, I need concern myself but little about persons in authority, and if I could only rely on the latter, what service could they render me in opposing the great mass?”

The following fact will shew how little communication Napoleon had maintained with the capital. On the morning of his entry into Paris, after his return from the Isle of Elba, a hundred and fifty half-pay officers quitted St. Denis, where they had been stationed by the Princes, and marched to the capital, bringing with them four pieces of artillery. They were met on the road by some generals, who placed themselves at their head; and the little troop thus proceeded to the palace of the Tuileries, where they assembled together the heads of the different departments of the ministry, who all agreed to act in the name of the Emperor. Thus Paris was tranquilly governed that day by the torrent of opinion and the transport of private affections. None of the great partisans of the Emperor, none of his former ministers, having received any communication from him, dared sign an order, or assume any responsibility. The public papers would not have appeared next day but for the zeal of private individuals, who, spontaneously and without authority, filled them with expressions of the feelings[feelings] by which they were animated, and with the statements of passing events. In the same manner Lavalette took possession of the post-office. Paris was that day without police and without government, and yet never did greater tranquillity prevail in the capital.

The Emperor entered the Tuileries about nine o’clock in the evening, with an escort of a hundred horse, just as if he had come from one of his country residences. On alighting, he was almost squeezed to death by a crowd of military officers and citizens, who thronged around him, and fairly carried him in their arms into his saloon. Here he found dinner ready, and he was just sitting down to table, when the officer who had been despatched in the morning to Vincennes to summon the fortress, arrived. He brought intelligence of the capitulation of the commandant, whose only conditions were, that he should receive a passport for himself and his family.

It is a very singular circumstance that, on the morning after the Emperor’s arrival at the Tuileries, while a messenger had gone out to procure a tri-coloured flag, one was found at the pavilion Marsan, during the search that was made, as a matter of prudence, through the palace. This flag was immediately hoisted. It was quite new, and larger than the usual size. No one could guess how it had got into the Tuileries, and for what purpose it had been intended.

In fact, the more light there is thrown on the subject, the more evident it must be that there was no other conspiracy than that of the nature of things. Party-spirit alone can seek in the present age to raise a doubt on this point; history will have none.

THE RETURN FROM ELBA.
London: Published for Henry Colburn, December, 1835.

A few days after Napoleon’s removal to Longwood, his return from Elba became the subject of conversation among the officers who were presented to him, when one of them observed that that astonishing event presented to the eyes of Europe the contrast of all that was most feeble and most sublime, the Bourbons abandoning[abandoning] a monarchy, and flying on the approach of a single man, who by his own individual efforts boldly undertook the conquest of an empire. “Sir,” said the Emperor, “are mistaken, you have taken a wrong view of the matter. The Bourbons were not wanting in courage; they did all they could. The Count d’Artois flew to Lyons; the Duchess d’Angoulême proved herself an amazon in Bourdeaux, and the Duke d’Angoulême offered as much resistance as he could. If, in spite of all this, they could attain no satisfactory object, the fault must not be attributed to them, but to the force of circumstances. The Bourbons, individually, could do no more than they really did; the contagion had spread in every direction.”

POEM OF CHARLEMAGNE.—THE BROTHERS AND SISTERS
OF THE EMPEROR WHO HAVE BECOME AUTHORS.

15th.—To-day the Emperor took advantage of a short, interval of fine weather to walk to the Company’s garden. I was alone with him, I made certain representations to him, after which, I ventured to suggest some ideas, but he rejected them as absurd. “Go, my dear Las Cases,” said he; “you are a simpleton. But be not offended at the epithet,” he added, “I do not apply it to every one; with me it is nearly synonymous with an honest man.”

After dinner, the Emperor attempted to read a part of the poem of Charlemagne, which he had taken up yesterday evening, and again laid aside. This evening, like the two preceding, was divided between Charlemagne and Homer. The latter the Emperor said he read for the sake of recruiting his spirits, and he again resumed his censure of Prince Lucien, and his admiration of Homer.

Some one present informed the Emperor that Lucien had ready for the press another poem, similar to his Charlemagne, to be entitled “Charles Martel in Corsica.” It was added that he had likewise written a dozen tragedies. “Why, the devil’s in him,” exclaimed the Emperor.

He was then informed that his brother Louis was the author of a novel. “His work may possess spirit and grace,” said he, “but it will not be without a mixture of sentimental metaphysics, and philosophic absurdity.”

It was mentioned that Princess Eliza had likewise written a novel, and that even Princess Pauline had produced something in literature. “Yes,” said the Emperor, “as a heroine perhaps, but not as an authoress. At that rate,” continued he “all my brothers and sisters must be authors, except Caroline. The latter, indeed, in her childhood was regarded as the fool and the Cinderella of the family; but she grew up to be a very beautiful and a very clever woman.”

WANT OF PROVISIONS.—GAY SOPHISTRY.—ON IMPOSSIBILITIES.[IMPOSSIBILITIES.]

16th.—In the morning, my servant came to tell me that there was neither coffee, sugar, milk, nor bread, for breakfast. Yesterday, some hours before dinner, feeling hungry, I asked for a mouthful of bread, and was told that there was none for me. Thus we are denied the very necessaries of life. This fact will scarcely be credited, and yet I have stated nothing but the truth.

The weather has now become fine. For some time the Emperor has been unable to walk out; but to-day he went into the garden, and he afterwards ordered the calash, with the intention of taking his usual drive, which had been so long suspended. As we were walking about, Madame de Montholon drove away a dog that had come near her.—“You do not like dogs, Madam?” said the Emperor,—“No, Sire.”—“If you do not like dogs, you do not like fidelity; you do not like those who are attached to you; and, therefore, you are not faithful.”—“But ... but....” said she—“But ... but....” repeated the Emperor, “where is the error of my logic? Refute my arguments if you can!”

One of the suite having a few days ago proposed making some chemical experiments, the Emperor enquired whether he had been successful. The other complained of not having the necessary apparatus. “A true child of the Seine,” said Napoleon, “an absolute Parisian cockney! Do you think you are still at the Tuileries? True industry does not consist in executing by known and given means; the proof of art and genius is to accomplish an object in spite of difficulties, and to find little or no impossibility. But what do you complain of? The want of a pestle, when the bar of any chair might answer your purpose? The want of a mortar? Any thing is a mortar that you choose to convert to that use; this table is a mortar; any pot or kettle is a mortar. Do you think you are still in the Rue Saint-Honoré, amidst all the shops in Paris?”

The Grand Marshal here remarked that this circumstance reminded him of something that had occurred the first time he had the honour of being presented to Napoleon, and of the first words he had received from him. When Bertrand was about to leave the army of Italy, to proceed on a mission to Constantinople, the young General, perceiving that he was an officer of engineers, gave him a commission relative to that department. “On my return,” said Bertrand, “I came up with you at a short distance from head quarters, and I informed you that I had found the thing impossible. On this your Majesty, whom I had addressed with great diffidence, said with the most familiar air—‘But let us see how you set to work, Sir: that which you found impossible may not be so to me.’ Accordingly,”[Accordingly,”] continued Bertrand, “when I mentioned the means by which I had proposed to execute what your Majesty wished, you immediately substituted others. In a few moments I was perfectly convinced of the superiority of your Majesty’s plans; and this circumstance furnished me with sentiments and recollections which have since proved very useful to me.”

The Emperor retired to rest early. We observed that he is very much altered in his looks, particularly since his last illness. He grows very weak, and feels fatigued after two turns round the garden.

STATISTICAL CALCULATION.—POPULATION OF THE
ISRAELITES IN EGYPT.

17th—18th. The fine weather has now completely set in. The Emperor went into the garden, attended by all his suite. After walking about for a short time, he proceeded to the wood.

On his return from his walk, we all breakfasted together under the tent; and, the weather being very favourable, the Emperor expressed his wish to take a drive in the calash.

About five o’clock, he desired me to attend him in his closet, to assist in searching for some documents on the interior of Africa, bordering upon Egypt. This is a point on which he has been engaged for some days past, as he intends to make it the subject of some chapters in his Campaign of Egypt.

He complained of being unwell, and desired me to order some tea for him. This was something extraordinary. The Grand Marshal soon after came to take my place in writing from his dictation.

After dinner, the Emperor was engaged with the pen in his hand, in investigating the comparative production of the soils of Egypt and France. He found the production of France to be greatly inferior to that of Egypt. This calculation was made from Peuchet’s “Statistical Surveys of France.” The Emperor was satisfied with the result at which he had arrived; it corresponded with the opinion he had previously formed. This naturally gave rise to the consideration of several other subjects; for instance, what was the probable and possible population of Egypt in ancient times?—what might have been the population of the Israelites, if, during the short period that they remained in captivity, they had increased to the degree mentioned in Scripture? &c. The Emperor desired me to present to him next day something on this latter subject. A great deal was said on the probabilities of human life, the tables of which were also found in Peuchet’s work; and on this subject the Emperor made some very ingenious, novel, and striking remarks.

I presented to the Emperor the calculation I had made on the problem which he had given to me the preceding day. The result surprised him not a little; and it furnished a subject for considerable discussion. The following is the substance of what I presented to him.

The Israelites remained two hundred years in Egypt, during which time we may calculate ten generations. They married early, and their marriages were very fruitful. I supposed the children of Jacob, the twelve chiefs of tribes, to be all married; I also supposed each of them to have had the same number of children, or six couples, and so on in succession. The tenth generation would then have amounted to 2,480,064,704 persons. But the ninth generation and even the eighth was still in existence. Hence what an awful number of figures. At any rate, let an ample deduction be made from the number of children, for the mortality occasioned by accidents, disease, &c., and still it is very certain that no calculation can be brought forward to contradict the account of Moses. The Emperor amused himself for a considerable time in detecting and shewing the errors of my reasoning.

During dinner, he exercised himself in English, by asking my son questions in that language, in history and geometry. After dinner the Emperor took up the Odyssey, the reading of which afforded a treat to us all.

THE EMPEROR ALTERS VISIBLY, AND LOSES HIS
STRENGTH.—SALE OF HIS PLATE.

19th.—Napoleon spent the morning in collecting information on the sources of the Nile, from the works of several modern authors, Bruce, &c.... I assisted him in this labour. At three o’clock, he dressed and went out. The weather was tolerably fine. He ordered the calash, and then went into the wood on foot, and we walked till we came within sight of the Signal Hill. He conversed with me on our moral position, and the vexations which even circumstances arising from our intimacy with him could not fail to cause him. The calash came up with us, and Monsieur and Madame Montholon were in it. The Emperor was very glad of this, as he said he did not feel strong enough to walk back to the house. He evidently grows feeble, his step becomes heavy and lagging, and his features alter. His resemblance to his brother Joseph is now striking; so much so, that, on going to meet him the other day in the garden, I could have sworn it was Joseph, until the very moment when I came close to him. Others have remarked the likeness, as well as myself; and we have often said, that, if we believed in the second sight of the Scotch Highlanders, we should be inclined to expect that something extraordinary would happen to Joseph or to the Emperor.

On our return, the Emperor examined a large basket full of broken plate, which was to be sent next day to the town. This was to be for the future the indispensable complement for our monthly subsistence, in consequence of the late retrenchments of the Governor.

We knew that captains in the East India Company’s service had offered as much as a hundred guineas for a single plate. This circumstance induced the Emperor to order the arms to be erased and the pieces to be broken, so as to leave no trace of the plate having belonged to him. All the dish covers were topped with small massive eagles; these were the only things he wished to save, and he had them put by. These last fragments were the objects of the wishes of every one of us; we looked upon them as relics. There was something religious, and at the same time mournful, in this feeling.

When the moment came for breaking up this plate, it had produced a most painful emotion and real grief amongst the servants. They could not without the greatest reluctance, bring themselves to apply the hammer to these objects of their veneration. This act upset all their ideas; it was to them a sacrilege, a desolation. Some of them shed tears on the occasion. After dinner, the Emperor continued the Odyssey, and afterwards read some passages of Esmenard’s poem, “La Navigation,” which he was pleased with.

FRESH VEXATION FROM THE GOVERNOR.—TOPOGRAPHY
OF ITALY.

20th.—The Emperor sent to wake me before eight o’clock, desiring that I should join him with the calash in the wood, where he was already walking with M. de Montholon, conversing about the household expenses of the establishment. The weather had at last become fine once more, it was like a delightful spring morning. We took two turns.

We have experienced to-day a fresh and inconceivable vexation from the Governor. He has forbidden us to sell our plate, when broken up, to any other person than the one he should appoint. What can have been his intention in committing this new act of injustice? To make himself more obnoxious, and to give another instance of the abuse of authority.

The Emperor breakfasted under the tent; immediately afterwards, he dictated the account of the Battle of Marengo to General Gourgaud. He bade me remain with them and listen. About twelve o’clock he retired to his apartment to endeavour to rest himself.

Towards three o’clock, the Emperor came into my room again. He found my son and myself engaged in comparing and looking over the account of the Battle of Arcole. He knew that it was my favourite chapter, and that I called it a canto of the Iliad. He wished to read it again, and expressed himself also pleased with it.

The perusal of this account of Arcole awakened the Emperor’s ideas respecting what he called “that beautiful theatre, Italy.” He ordered us to follow him into the drawing-room, where he dictated to us for several hours. He had caused his immense map of Italy, which covered the greatest part of the drawing-room, to be spread open on the floor, and having laid himself down upon it, he went over it on his hands and his knees, with a compass and a red pencil in his hand, comparing and measuring the distance with a long piece of string, of which one of us held one of the ends. “It is thus,” said he to me, laughing at the posture in which I saw him, “that a country should be measured in order to form a correct idea of it, and lay down a good plan of a campaign.”

THE CELEBRATED BILLS OF ST. DOMINGO.—INSPECTORS OF THE REVIEWS, &C.—PLANS OF ADMINISTRATION, &C.—GAUDIN, MOLLIEN, DEFERMONT, LACUEE, &C.—MINISTER OF THE TREASURY.—MINISTER SECRETARY OF STATE.—IMPORTANCE OF THEIR FUNCTIONS.

21st.—Admiral Malcolm called upon me to-day. He came to take leave of us all; he was to sail the next day for the Cape, and would be two months absent.

We are sorry to lose the Admiral; his manners, always polite, and a kind of tacit sympathy existing between us, contrast him continually in our mind with Sir Hudson Lowe, who is so unlike him.

The Admiral had seen the Emperor, who is also partial to him. They had taken together some turns in the garden, and the Admiral told me had collected some excellent information respecting the Scheldt and the Nievendip, a maritime establishment in Holland which was entirely unknown to him, and which was founded by Napoleon.

After dinner, the conversation turned upon what the Emperor termed the celebrated bills of St. Domingo. It gave rise to the following curious details.—“The administrator of St. Domingo,” said the Emperor, “took it into his head one day to draw from the Cape, without authority, for the sum of sixty millions, in bills, on the treasury in Paris, which bills were all payable on the same day. France was not then, and had, perhaps, never been, rich enough to meet such a demand. Besides, where and by what means had the administration of St. Domingo acquired such a credit? The First Consul could not command any thing like it in Paris; it was as much as M. Necker could have done at the time of his greatest popularity. Be that as it may, when these bills appeared in Paris, where they arrived before the letters of advice, the First Consul was applied to from the treasury, to point out what was to be done. ‘Wait for the letters of advice,’ said he, ‘in order to learn the nature of the transaction. The treasury is like a capitalist; it possesses the same rights, and should follow the same course. These bills are not accepted, they are, consequently, not payable.’ However, the necessary information, and the vouchers, arrived. These bills stated value received, but the receipts of the officers in charge of the chest, into whose hands the money had been paid, were for only one tenth, one fifth, one third of the amount of the respective bills. The treasury, therefore, would only acknowledge and refund the sum really and bona fide paid; and the bills in their tenour were declared to be false. This raised a great clamour, and produced a terrible agitation amongst the merchants. A deputation waited upon the First Consul, who, far from endeavouring to avoid it, opened the business at once, and asked ‘whether they took him for a child, whether they thought he would sport thus with the purest blood of the people, or that he was so indifferent a guardian of the public interest? What he refused to give up,’ he said, ‘did not affect him personally, did not trench upon his civil list, but it was public property, of which he was the guardian, and which was the more sacred in his eyes on that account.’ Then, addressing the two persons at the head of the deputation, he said: ‘You, gentlemen, who are merchants, bankers, men of business, give me a positive answer. If one of your agents abroad were to draw upon you for very large sums contrary to your expectations and to your interests, would you accept, would you pay his bills?’ They were obliged to admit they would not. ‘Then,’ said the First Consul, ‘you, who are simple proprietors, and in the right of your majority responsible for your own actions only, you would wish to possess a right which you refuse to allow to me, proprietor in the name of all, and who am in that quality always a minor and subject to revision! No, gentlemen, I shall enjoy your privileges in the name and for the benefit of all; the actual amount received for your bills shall be repaid you and no more. I do not ask the merchants to take the bills of my agents: it is an honour, a mark of credit, to which I do not aspire; if the merchants do take them, it must be at their own risk and peril; I only acknowledge and consider as sacred the acceptance of my Minister of the Treasury.’ Upon this they again expostulated, and a great deal of idle talk ensued. They should be obliged, they said, to declare themselves bankrupts; they had received these bills, for ready money; their agents abroad had committed the error of taking them, through respect for, and confidence in, the government. ‘Very well,’ said the First Consul, ‘become bankrupts. But they did not,’ observed the Emperor, ‘they had not received these bills for ready money, and their agents had not committed any error.’

“The members of the deputation left the First Consul, convinced in their own minds of the validity of his reasons; nevertheless, they filled Paris with their clamours and with falsehoods, misrepresenting the affair altogether.

“This transaction,” said the Emperor, “and its details, explain many other transactions which have been much spoken of in Paris under the Imperial administration.

“The commercial world had particularly said, and repeated, that this proceeding was unexampled; that such a violation of credit was a thing hitherto unheard of; but to that the First Consul replied that he would set the question at rest by quoting precedents, and he recalled to their minds the Bills of Louis XIV., the liquidations of the Regent, the Mississippi Company,[Company,] the liquidations of the wars of 1763 and of 1782, &c.; and proved to them that what they contended to be a thing unexampled had been the constant practice of the monarchy.”

From this affair the Emperor turned to different branches of the administration. He defended the institution of the post of Inspectors of Reviews. “It was only through them that the actual number of men present could be ascertained; through them alone had this advantage been obtained, and it was one of immense importance in the active operations of war. And these inspectors were not less useful in an administrative point of view; for, whatever trifling abuses might exist in the details, and however numerous these abuses might be, it is on a general principle that such things should be considered; and, in order to estimate fairly the utility of this institution, it should be asked what other abuses would have taken place if it had not existed? For myself,” said Napoleon, “I must say that, checking the expenditure, by trying how much the total number of troops ought to have cost according to their fixed rates of pay, I have always found the sum paid by the treasury to fall short of my estimate. The army, therefore, cost less than it ought to have cost: what result more beneficial could be required?”

The Emperor quoted the administration of the navy as having been the most regular and the most honest; it had become a master-piece. “In that,” said he, “consisted the great merit of Decrès.” The Emperor considered that France was too large to have only one minister for the administration of the war department. “It was,” he said, “a task beyond the powers of one man. Paris had been made the centre of all decisions, contracts, supplies, and organizations; whilst the correspondents of the minister had been subdivided amongst a number of persons equal to the number of regiments and corps. The contrary ought to have been the case; the correspondences should have been entered, and the resources subdivided, by raising them on the spot where they were required. I had long meditated a plan to establish in France twenty or twenty-five military districts, which would have composed so many armies. There would have been no more than that number of accountants; these would have been twenty under-ministers; it would have been necessary to find twenty honest men. The minister would have had only twenty correspondents; he would have centralised the whole and made the machine move with rapidity.

“Messieurs Gaudin and Mollien,” said the Emperor, “were of opinion that it was necessary that the receivers-general, public financiers and contractors, should have very large fortunes, that they should have it in their power to make considerable profits, and openly avow them, in such a manner as to retain a degree of consideration which they might be careful not to endanger; and a character of honour, which they might be anxious not to compromise. This could not be otherwise,” he said, “in order to obtain from them support, service, and credit, in case of need.

“Another set of men, Defermont, Lacuée, and Marbois, thought, on the contrary, that it was impossible to be too watchful, too economical, and too strict. For my own part, I was inclined to be of the opinion of the first, considering the views of the last to be narrow, and such as were applicable to a regiment, but not to an army; to the expenses of a private household, but not to the expenditure of a great empire. I called them the Puritans and the Jansenists of the profession.”

The Emperor observed that the minister of the treasury, and the minister secretary of state, were two of his institutions on which he most congratulated himself, and from which he had derived the greatest assistance. “The minister of the treasury concentrated all the resources, and controlled all the expenses of the empire. From the minister secretary of state all acts emanated. He was the minister of ministers, imparting life to all intermediate acts; the grand notary of the empire, signing and authenticating all documents. Through the first I knew, at every moment, the state of my affairs; and through the second I made known my decisions and my will in all directions and every where. So that, with my minister of the treasury and my minister secretary of state alone, and half-a-dozen clerks, I would have undertaken to govern the empire from the remotest parts of Illyria, or from the banks of the Niemen, with as much facility as in my capital.”

The Emperor could not conceive how affairs could go on with the four or five secretaries of state of our kings. “And, indeed, how did they go on?” said he. “Each imagined, executed, and controlled his own operations. They might act in direct opposition one to another; for as the kings only affixed their sign on the margin of the plans proposed, or authenticated only the rough draft of their ordinances, the secretaries of state could fill them up, or act as they pleased, without fear of any great responsibility. Add to this that the secretaries of state had the griffe[^[29]], a contrivance, which they wanted to make me adopt, but which I rejected as a tool appropriated to the Rois faineans. Amongst these ministers, some might have money for which they had no employment, and others might be unable to proceed for want of a farthing. There was no common centre to combine their movements, provide for their wants, and direct the execution of their measures.”

The Emperor said that a minister secretary of state was exactly suited for kings without talents, but vain, who would want the assistance of a prime minister and not like to own it. “Had my minister secretary of state been made president of the council of state,” said he, “he would have been from that moment a real prime minister, in the fullest acceptation of the term; for he would have carried his plans to the council of state to have them digested into laws, and would have signed for the Prince. There can be no doubt that, with the manners and habits of the first race of our kings, or with princes like them, my minister secretary of state would have become in a very short time a Mayor of the Palace.”[Palace.”]