At this moment General Cambronne, and some officers of the guards of the battalion of the island of Elba, appeared with the ancient eagles of the guard: the Emperor resumed his harangue, and said[76]: "Here are the officers of the battalion, who accompanied me in my adversity: they are all my friends, they were dear to my heart! Whenever I saw them, they reminded me of the different regiments of the army; for among these six hundred brave fellows are men from every regiment. They recalled to my mind those great victories, the remembrance of which is so dear; for they are all well covered with honourable scars received in those memorable battles! In loving them, it was all of you, soldiers, of the whole French army, whom I loved. They bring back to you these eagles; let them serve you as a rallying point: in giving them to the guards, I give them to the whole army."
"Treason and unfortunate circumstances had covered them with a funereal veil: but, thanks to the French people and to you, they appear again resplendent with all their glory. Swear, that they shall always be found, wherever the interests of our country call them! that traitors, and those who would invade our territories, shall never stand their appearance."
"We swear it," answered all the soldiers with enthusiasm. They then filed off with shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" and to the sound of military music, playing the favourite tunes of the revolution, and the Marseillese march, so celebrated in the annals of our crimes and our victories.
When the review was over, the Emperor returned to his closet, and applied himself immediately to business. His situation rendered it necessary, that he should ascertain without delay the precise state of the country, of the government of which he had resumed the reins. This was so vast an undertaking, that the faculties of any other man would have been overwhelmed by it. He found the writing table covered with mystic authors[77]; and substituted for them plans and maps. "The closet of a French monarch," said he, "should resemble the tent of a general, not an oratory." His eyes rested on the map of France. After having contemplated its recent limits, he exclaimed in a tone of profound sorrow, "Poor France!" He kept silence a few minutes, and then began to hum in a low voice one of his usual burdens of songs:
"S'il est un tems pour la folie,
Il en est un pour la raison[78]."
The Emperor entered his closet habitually before six in the morning, and seldom quitted it till night.
Impatience and vivacity are almost always incompatible with order and precision. Napoleon, destined to be like no other person, added to the fire of genius the methodical habits of cold and little minds. For the most part, he took care to arrange his numerous papers himself. Each of them had its settled place. Here was found whatever related to the war department: there, the budgets, the daily statements of the treasury and finances: farther on, the reports of the police, his secret correspondence with his private agents, &c. He carefully returned every thing to its place, after having used it: compared with him the most methodical clerk would have been but a bungler.
His first business was to read his correspondence, and the despatches that had arrived in the night. He put aside the interesting letters, and threw the rest on the floor: this he called his answered.
He afterwards examined the copies of letters opened at the post office, and burnt them immediately. It seemed, as if he wished to annihilate all traces of the abuse of power, of which he had been guilty.
He finished by casting an eye over the newspapers. Sometimes he said, "That's a good article; whose is it?" He must know every thing.