"Certainly this literary fame flattered me not a little; but I had sprung from a warlike race, and I conceived that I was in duty bound to pursue fame of another kind. However, circumstances rendered this impossible, and I think it proper to mention that at least I was not unconscious of the duty. I never had cause to repent of my double appellation. Independently of my real motive for assuming it, it diffused around me an air of adventure and romance which was by no means disagreeable, and which was moreover in unison with my temper and character. It occasioned many mistakes and humourous scenes which afforded me considerable amusement. In England, for example, I have often, when in company, been questioned in the most innocent way imaginable respecting the merits of M. Le Sage’s work; and at a boarding-school I was once addressed in very discourteous language, because I obstinately persisted in condemning my own Atlas.
"So long as I continued myself to manage the publication of the work, my method was to treat in person with all who offered to set their names down as subscribers. I had now no favours to solicit; I rather found it necessary in some instances to guard against receiving those that were offered. In France particularly I was overwhelmed with acts of kindness and flattering compliments. Some paid me these attentions because they knew me, others precisely because they did not know me; and all because I conducted myself alike to each. For my part, I enjoyed the curious spectacle that now presented itself to me. As every one who wished to become a subscriber was obliged to give in his own name, I took a review of many characters, whom I well knew, and observed them in silence. I was thus enabled to meditate at my ease on the curious diversity of opinion, judgment, and taste. The point which one condemned was precisely that which another most admired, which a third declared to be indispensable, and which a fourth pronounced to be inadmissible. Each according to custom failed not to set forth his own opinion as the prevailing one: it was the sentiment of all Paris and of every body.
"I had now an opportunity of being convinced of the great advantage that a man derives from superintending his own business himself, and of the important influence of politeness and good manners in all the affairs of life. I acceded to every thing that was proposed, I received every hint that was suggested, and I was repaid a hundred-fold for my complaisance. It frequently happened that a person who had called on me, without any intention of purchasing the work, was not only induced to carry it away with him, but brought me ten, twenty, or even a hundred, additional subscribers.
"One described my Atlas as a classic work to the Minister of the Interior; another recommended it to the Minister for Foreign Affairs; a third promised to procure for me the decoration of the Legion of Honour, and a fourth wrote a flattering critique on the work, and got it inserted in the public journals. Some carried their interest and attachment for me even to a degree of enthusiasm. Of this the following are instances. One of my provincial subscribers, who was unacquainted with me, wrote to request, as a particular favour, that I would get my portrait engraved to embellish the work, offering, in case I acceded to the proposition, to defray half the expenses of the engraving. Another, who was the owner of the Chateau de Montmorency, paid me a visit every week under pretence of enquiring whether I had got a new sheet of my Atlas ready for publication, but in reality, as he himself assured me, to pass his happiest hours in my society. He added that, if ever I should take a fancy to sell my conversation as I did the sheets of my work, it was in my power, if I chose, to ruin him. I afterwards learned that this was a man of a very eccentric turn; one of La Bruyere’s characters; quite after the manner of Jean-Jacques. For a considerable time he seemed to rack his invention to make me offers of service in the most delicate way imaginable: he even went so far as to throw out paternal suggestions to me. ‘M. Le Sage,[M. Le Sage,]’ said he, oftener than once ‘you ought to marry. You possess qualities that are calculated to insure the happiness of a wife, and still more that of a father-in-law.’ I must not omit to mention that the old gentleman had but one daughter, and she was a rich heiress. However, the warmth of our intimacy gradually abated, till at length I entirely lost the acquaintance. It was not until a considerable time afterwards[afterwards] that, being on a country excursion with a party of ladies, the sight of the Chateau de Montmorency revived the recollection of my old friend. I related the history of his eccentricities to the ladies who accompanied me: their curiosity was excited, and we determined to visit the chateau. The porter refused to admit us. On my enquiring whether the gentleman was at his country residence, I received for answer that he was there, and that this was precisely the reason why we could not be admitted. I thought it very extraordinary that he should thus immure himself and render himself totally inaccessible. With considerable difficulty I prevailed on the servant to announce M. Le Sage. The sound of the name operated like enchantment; the affront offered to an elegant calash and rich liveries was immediately repaired. The gates were thrown open, apparently to the no small astonishment of the porter. The servants received orders to show us over the building and to offer us every kind of refreshment. We had brought with us in the carriage provisions for a little rural repast; but a sumptuous dinner was laid out for us in one of the best apartments; and we could not, with any thing like a good grace, decline accepting what was so politely offered. All this hospitality was perfectly disinterested on the part of the worthy old gentleman, who was confined to his chamber by the gout. He was overjoyed at seeing me; and he seemed to regard my visit as the return of the prodigal son. He insisted on seeing the ladies who accompanied me, and was carried into the dining-room to do the honours of the dessert. One thing that amused us infinitely was that he seemed to have no idea of the rank of the friends by whom I was accompanied; and he treated them like persons of inferior rank, though they were in reality ladies of distinction. The old gentleman would now scarcely allow me to depart; he insisted on my repeating my visit, and said, that I and all my friends should ever be welcome to his residence. But alas! I could not avail myself of his kindness; for a few days afterwards I read in the papers an account of the death of this kind and sincere friend.
"From the commencement of my greatness, I may, under every point of view, date the termination of the golden age of my Atlas. When I was transplanted to Court and permitted to approach your Majesty’s person, I conceived that I could not with propriety descend to the details that had hitherto occupied me. I confided the management of the copyright to one of my old college companions, who had been an emigrant like myself, but who did not turn the publication to so good an account as I had done.
"On entering upon my new post at Court, I was loaded with compliments on my production; but to these I replied indifferently, and just as one would do at a ball, after dropping one’s mask. When it was found that I never alluded to my work, that I never quoted from it, and that I avoided all discussion on it, I was never spoken to on the subject; and at length people began to wonder how I had ever written it, and indeed to doubt whether I had any right at all to be considered as its author.
"On hearing these words, the Emperor said to me, ‘My dear Las Cases, even this doubt has found its way to St. Helena. I have heard it affirmed that the work was not written by you, that you purchased the manuscript from the real author; and in support of this assertion it has been remarked that you know nothing at all about the book, because you never speak of it. To these observations,’ continued he, ‘I have merely contented myself with saying, Did you never know any question to remain without a complete answer? Besides I recognise throughout the whole work the style, the very expressions, of Las Cases.’
“Many,” said I, resuming my narrative, "will think I injured myself by this denial; but I preferred good taste to quackery, and I was only acting according to the dictates of my natural disposition. Your Majesty was the other day describing how Syees used to present himself loaded with written plans, and at the very first word of contradiction, as soon as he found it necessary to act on the defensive, he would gather up his papers and be off in a moment. This was precisely my feeling. I never could stand up publicly to support my opinions. Before I could do this, I must enjoy the authority of rank or the freedom of intimate friendship: otherwise I prefer dooming myself to silence, that is to say, when I am not interrogated and urged to the point. But to return to my subject.
"So long as I remained in obscurity I enjoyed the good-will of every one; but my elevation rendered me an object of enmity, and I felt the influence of that vague feeling of envy and malevolence which ever follows the footsteps of fortune. The public journals, which for a length of time had overflowed with flattery and agreeable expressions in favour of the Historical Atlas, now inserted some very ill-natured articles respecting the work, and when these were traced to their source, the writers frankly avowed that they had been occasioned solely by changes that had taken place in political opinions and public affairs.
"A report was delivered to the Institute of all the works that had appeared for several years past; and in this report the Atlas was very severely treated. Happening to be one day in company with the writer of this report, to whom I was known only by the name of Le Sage, I expressed to him my dissatisfaction at what he had said of the Atlas. He candidly confessed that the work and its author were alike unknown to him; that, having found the labour of writing the report too much for him, he had divided the task among several other persons. He informed me that the article on Le Sage’s Atlas was infinitely more severe when delivered to him than it appeared as inserted in the report. He had softened it down considerably. ‘I can easily perceive,’ continued he, ‘that you have enemies in the literary world, and for these you are indebted to your habits and your situation. You have connected yourself with a Count somebody, who holds places at Court; but courtiers and authors never agree well together. Those gentlemen are, for the most part, very unlike us. It is said that, in this curious partnership, you supply the talent and he provides the money. What is the use of that? The Count is only making his profit of you; your work is good, and your bookseller would have remunerated you for it. However, I am only repeating what I have heard, and I advise you to what I conceive to be your interest. If you wish to enjoy our suffrage, you must connect yourself with us, you must identify yourself with our doctrines, and leave the great folks to themselves.’