All this must be contained in the registers of M. Locré, partly in discussions relative to the national guard, and partly, as well as I can recollect, on the subject of one of the annual conscriptions. I remember that one day, in particular, there was a long debate respecting the University. The Emperor had expressed himself dissatisfied with the little advancement that was observable in the institution, and the bad system on which it was conducted. M. Segur was directed to present a report on this subject, which he did with his usual candour and sincerity. He set on foot the necessary inquiries, and found that the Emperor’s plans were ill understood and badly executed. Napoleon had wished that erudition should be only a secondary object, that national principles and doctrines should take place of every thing; and yet these principles and doctrines were the subjects to which least attention was paid.
The Emperor was not present at this sitting—a circumstance which very much mortified the friends of the person principally interested in the question. We were guilty of sacrificing too much to the spirit of coteries. The report was never again brought forward; it was withdrawn from our portfolios, and it was made a point of some importance to get it returned from those members of the Council who had carried it home with them.
However, some time after this, the great dignitaries of the University were summoned to the bar of the Council of State. The Emperor expressed his displeasure at the bad management and the bad spirit which seemed to preside over this important institution. He observed that all his intentions were frustrated, that his plans were never properly carried into effect, &c. M. de F—— bent before the storm, and nevertheless pursued his accustomed course. The Emperor said, on his return from the Island of Elba, that he had been assured that the Grand Master of the University had made a boast to the government, which succeeded the Empire, of having done all in his power to thwart and misdirect the impulse which Napoleon wished to impart to the rising generation.
RECOLLECTIONS OF WATERLOO.
18th.—The Emperor sent for me to his study before dinner; he was busy in reading the newspapers which had just arrived. M. de Montholon solicited permission to wait on him. He informed the Emperor that Madame de Montholon had just been delivered of a daughter, and requested his Majesty to do him the honour to stand godfather to the child.
After dinner, the Emperor again looked over the papers which he had already perused, and remarked that France still remained in a state of agitation and uncertainty: he observed that the latest English papers used the most indecorous language with regard to the royal family.... One article led him to say: “Present circumstances, the necessities of the moment, and sympathies of old date, concur in favouring the return of the monks to France. This is a characteristic circumstance in France, as in the territories of the Pope.” Then, dwelling on the subject of the latter, he continued, “as for the Pope, it is his special affair, and is calculated to restore his power. Would any one believe that, while he was himself a prisoner at Fontainebleau, and while the question of his own existence was under consideration, he argued with me seriously on the existence of the monks, and endeavoured to induce me to re-establish them! That was truly like the Court of Rome!”
This day was the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. The circumstance was mentioned by some one present, and the recollection of it produced a visible impression on the Emperor. “Incomprehensible day!” said he in a tone of sorrow—"Concurrence of unheard of fatalities!—Grouchy!—Ney!—D’Erlon!—Was there treachery, or only misfortune!—Alas! poor France!—" Here he covered his eyes with his hands. “And yet,” said he, “all that human skill could do was accomplished! All was not lost until the moment when all had succeeded!”
A short time afterwards, alluding to the same subject, he exclaimed; "in that extraordinary campaign, thrice, in less than a week’s space, I saw the certain triumph of France, and the decision of her fate slip through my fingers.
“But for the desertion of a traitor, I should have annihilated the enemy at the opening of the campaign. I should have destroyed him at Ligny, if my left had done its duty.—I should have destroyed him again at Waterloo, if my right had not failed me. Singular defeat, by which, notwithstanding the most fatal catastrophe, the glory of the conquered has not suffered, nor the fame of the conqueror been encreased: the memory of the one will survive his destruction; the memory of the other will perhaps be buried in his triumph!”