In the course of conversation during the evening, the Emperor once more adverted to Waterloo, and described his anxiety and indecision before he came to a final resolution respecting his abdication. I pass over a multitude of details, lest I should be led into repetition; I note down only the following:—
The Emperor’s speech to his ministers was the literal prophecy of all that subsequently took place. Carnot was the only one who seemed to take a right view of the case. He opposed the abdication, which he said was a death-blow to France; and he wished that we should defend ourselves even to annihilation. Carnot was the only one who maintained this opinion; all the rest were for the abdication. That measure was determined, and Carnot, covering his face with his hands, burst into tears.
At another moment the Emperor said, “I am not a God: I cannot do all by my own single efforts: I cannot save the nation without the help of the nation. I am certain that the people then entertained these sentiments, and that they are now suffering undeservedly. It was the host of intriguers, and men possessing titles and offices, who were really guilty. That which misled them, and which ruined me, was the mild system of 1814, the benignity of the restoration; they looked for a repetition of this lenity. The change of the Sovereign had become a mere joke. They all calculated on remaining just as they had been before, whether I should be succeeded by Louis XVIII. or any other. These stupid, selfish, and egotistical men looked upon the great event as merely a competition, about which they cared but little; and they thought only of their individual interests, when a deadly war of principles was about to be commenced. And why should I disguise the truth? There were among the individuals whom I had elevated, and by whom I was surrounded, a number of proud ...!” Then, turning to me, he added, “I am not alluding to your Faubourg St. Germain, with respect to which the matter was totally different, and for which some excuse may be found. During my first reverses in 1814, the greatest traitors were not the persons connected with that party, of whom I had no great cause to complain; and, who, therefore, on my return, were not bound to me by any particular ties of gratitude. I had abdicated, the King was restored. They had but returned to their old attachments, and had only renewed their allegiance.”
STATE OF FRENCH MANUFACTURES.—ON PHYSIOGNOMY.
27th.—The Emperor went out about 2 o’clock; the weather was very fine. The season is sensibly different from that which we had on our arrival; the air is infinitely more pure. The Emperor was, however, very ill, and very low-spirited. He walked to the extremity of the wood, while we were waiting for the calash. We took our usual drive.
The conversation turned on the state of manufactures in France. The Emperor said he had raised them to a degree of prosperity hitherto unknown; and which was scarcely credited in Europe, or even in France. This was a subject of wonder to foreigners on their arrival. The Abbé de Montesquiou, he said, was constantly expressing his astonishment at this circumstance, the proofs of which he had in his own hands, when he became Minister of the Interior.
The Emperor was the first individual in France who said: Agriculture, first; industry, that is to say, manufactures, next; and, finally, trade, which must arise out of the superabundance of the two first. He also defined and put into practice, in a clear and connected way, the systems most conducive to the interests of our manufacturers and merchants. To him we were indebted for the cultivation of sugar, indigo, and cotton. He offered a reward of a million francs to the person who should discover a method of spinning flax like cotton; and he doubted not that this discovery would have been made. The fatality of circumstances alone prevented this grand idea from being carried into execution.
“The old aristocracy, those enemies to our prosperity,” said the Emperor, “exhausted all their wit in stupid jokes and frivolous caricatures on these subjects. But the English had no cause to laugh; they felt the blow, and have not yet recovered from it.”
A short time before dinner, the Emperor sent for me to attend him in his chamber. He was very unwell; he tried to converse, but he had not strength. He attributed his indisposition to his having drunk some bad wine, which had newly arrived. He said that Corvisart, Bertholet, and other physicians and chemists, had frequently said that if he experienced the least unpleasant flavour, on first tasting his wine, he must by no means swallow it.
The turn of the conversation led him to express his surprise at the contrast between the character of the mind and the expression of the countenance, which was observable in some individuals. “This proves,” said he, "that we must not judge of a man by his face; we can know him only by his conduct. What countenances have I had to judge of in the course of my life! What odd samples of physiognomy have come under my observation! And what rash opinions have I heard on this subject! Thus I invariably made it a rule never to be influenced either by features or by words. Still, however, it must be confessed that we sometimes find curious resemblances between the countenance and the character. For instance, on looking at the face of our Monseigneur (meaning the Governor), who would not recognise the features of a tiger-cat! I will mention another instance. There was a man in my service, who was employed about my person. I liked him very much; but I was obliged to dismiss him because I several times caught him with his hands in my pockets. He committed his thefts too impudently: let any one look at this man, and they must admit that he has a magpie’s eye."