Upon our return, the Emperor, after some hesitation whether he should breakfast under the trees, determined to go in, and remained at home the whole of the day. He dined alone.
He sent for me after dinner; I found him engaged in reading some Mercures or old newspapers. He found in them various anecdotes and circumstances respecting Beaumarchais, whom the Emperor, during his Consulate, had, notwithstanding all his wit, uniformly discountenanced, on account of his bad character and his gross immorality. The difference of manners imparted a poignancy to the anecdotes, although the difference of times was so trifling. He found an account of Louis the Sixteenth’s visit to Cherbourg, on which he dwelt for some time. He next adverted to the works of Cherbourg, and took a rapid review of them, with the clearness, precision, and lively manner that characterized every thing he said.
Cherbourg is situated at the bottom of a semicircular bay, the two extremities of which are the Pelée Island on the right, and Point Querqueville on the left. The line, by which these two points are connected, forms the chord or the diameter, and runs East and West.
Opposite to the North, and at a very small distance, about 20 leagues, is the famous Portsmouth, the grand arsenal of the English. The remainder of their coast runs nearly parallel opposite to ours. Nature has done every thing for our rivals; nothing for us. Their shores are safe and clear themselves daily from obstructions. They abound in deep soundings, in the means of shelter, in harbours and excellent ports; ours are, on the contrary, full of rocks, the water is shallow, and they are every day choking up. We have not in these parts a single real port of large dimensions, and it might be said that the English are, at the same moment, both at home and on our coast, since it is not requisite for their squadrons, at anchor in Portsmouth, to put to sea to molest us. A few light vessels are sufficient to convey intelligence of our movements, and, in an instant, without trouble or danger, they are ready to pounce upon their prey.
If, on the contrary, our squadrons are daring enough to appear in the British Channel, which ought, in reality, to be called the French Sea, they are exposed to perpetual danger; their total destruction may be effected by the hurricane or the superiority of the enemy, because in both these cases there is no shelter for them. This is what happened at the famous battle of La Hogue, where Tourville might have united the glory of a skilful retreat with that of a hard fought and unequal contest, had there been a port for him to take shelter in.
In this state of things, men of great sagacity and anxious for the welfare of their country, prevailed upon government, by dint of projects and memorials, to seek, by the assistance of art, those resources of which we had been deprived by nature; and, after a great deal of hesitation, the bay of Cherbourg was selected, and it was determined to protect it by an immense dike, projecting into the sea. In that way we were to acquire, even close to the enemy, an artificial road, whence our ships might be able, in all times and in all weathers, to attack his, or to escape his pursuit.
“It was,” said the Emperor, “a magnificent and glorious undertaking, very difficult with respect to the execution and to the finances of that period. The dike was to be formed by immense cones constructed empty in the port and towed afterwards to the spot, where they were sunk by the weight of the stones with which they were filled.[[1]] There certainly was great ingenuity in the invention. Louis XVI. honoured these operations with his presence. His departure from Versailles was a great event. In those times, a king never left his residence, his excursions did not extend beyond the limits of a hunting party; they did not hurry about as at present, and I really believe that I contributed not a little to the rapidity of their movements.
“However, as it was absolutely necessary that things should be impressed with the character of the age, the eternal rivalry between the land and sea, that question which can never be decided, continued to be carried on. It might have been said in that respect, that there were two kings in France, or that he who reigned had two interests, and ought to have two wills, which proved rather that he had none at all. Here the sea was the only subject for consideration, yet the question was decided in favour of the land, not by superiority of argument, but by priority of right. Where the fate of the empire was at stake, a point of precedence was substituted, and thus the grand object, the magnificent enterprise, failed of success. The land-party established itself at Pelée Island and at fort Querqueville; it was employed there merely to lend an auxiliary hand to the construction of the dike, which was itself the chief object; but instead of that, it began by establishing its own predominance, and afterwards compelled the dike to become the instrument of its convenience, and subservient to its plans and discretion. What was the result? The harbour, which was forming and which was intended to contain the mass of our navy, whether designed to strike at the heart of the enemy’s power, or to take occasional shelter, could only accommodate fifteen sail at most, while we wanted anchorage for more than a hundred, which might have been effected without more labour and with little more expense, had the works been carried more forward into the sea, merely beyond the limits which the land-party had appropriated to itself.
“Another blunder highly characteristic, and scarcely conceivable, took place. All the principal measures for completing the harbour were fixed upon; the dike commenced; one of the channels, that to the eastward, finished, and the other to the westward was on the point of being formed, without an exact and precise knowledge of all the soundings. This oversight was so great that the channel already formed, that to the eastward, five hundred fathoms broad, having been carried too close to the fort, did not, without inconvenience, admit vessels at low water, and that the other, which was about to be constructed to the westward, would have been impracticable, or at least very dangerous, but for the individual zeal of one officer (M. de Chavagnac), who made that important discovery in time, and caused the works on the left extremity of the dike to be stopped at the distance of twelve hundred fathoms from fort Querqueville, by which it was to be defended. This seems to me, and is, in fact, too great a distance.[[2]]
“The system adopted in the works of the dike, which is more than a league from the shore, and more than 1900 fathoms long by 90 feet broad, was also subjected to numerous changes, suggested, however, by experience. The cones, which, according to the established principle, ought to have touched each other at their bases, were, in that respect, either separated by accident or with a view to economy. They were damaged by storms, eaten by worms, or rotted with age. They were at length altogether neglected, with the exception of stones thrown at random into the sea; and when it was observed that these were scattered by the rolling of the waves, recourse was had to enormous blocks, which finally answered every expectation.