“All the South of Europe, therefore, would soon have been rendered compact in point of locality, views, opinions, sentiments, and interests. In this state of things, what would have been the weight of all the nations of the north? What human efforts could have broken through so strong a barrier?
“The concentration of the Germans must have been effected more gradually; and therefore I had done no more than simplify their monstrous complication. Not that they were unprepared for concentralization; on the contrary, they were too well prepared for it, and they might have blindly risen in re-action against us, before they had comprehended our designs. How happens it that no German Prince has yet formed a just notion of the spirit of his nation, and turned it to good account? Certainly, if heaven had made me a Prince of Germany, amidst the many critical events of our times, I should, infallibly, have governed the thirty millions of Germans united; and, from what I know of them, I think I may venture to affirm that, if they had once elected and proclaimed me, they would not have forsaken me, and I should never have been at St. Helena.”
Then, after some melancholy details and comparisons, he thus resumed: “At all events, this concentration will be brought about, sooner or later, by the very force of events. The impulse is given; and I think that, since my fall and the destruction of my system, no grand equilibrium can possibly be established in Europe, except by the concentration and confederation of the principal nations. The sovereign who, in the first great conflict, shall sincerely embrace the cause of the people, will find himself at the head of all Europe, and may attempt whatever he pleases.
“It will perhaps be asked why I did not suffer these ideas to transpire? why I did not submit them to public discussion; since they would, doubtless, have become popular, and popularity would have been an immense re-inforcement to me? My answer is, that malevolence is ever more active than good intention; that, at the present day, the power of wit overrules good sense, and obscures at pleasure the most luminous points; and that, to have submitted these important subjects to public discussion would have been to consign them to the mercy of party-spirit, passion, intrigue, and gossiping, while the infallible result would have been discredit and opposition. I conceived, therefore, that secrecy was the most advisable course. I surrounded myself with that halo of mystery which pleases and interests the multitude; gives birth to speculations, which occupy the public mind; and, finally, affords opportunities for those sudden and brilliant disclosures, which exercise such important influence. It was this very principle that accelerated my unfortunate march to Moscow. Had I been more deliberate, I might have averted every evil; but I could not delay and afford time for comment. With my career already traced out, with my ideas formed for the future, it was necessary that my movement and my success should seem, as it were, supernatural.” The Emperor here adverted to the Russian expedition, repeating many of the observations which I have already recorded elsewhere. I now note down only what I conceive to be new.
“I will name another occasion,” said he, “on which accident was taken for principle. I failed in my expedition against the Russians; and they, therefore, consider themselves invincible. But can any thing be more erroneous? Ask men of sense and reflection among them! Ask Alexander himself, and let him recollect the opinions he entertained at the time! Was I defeated by the efforts of the Russians? No! my failure must be attributed to pure accident, to absolute fatality. First a capital was burnt to the ground, in spite of its inhabitants and through foreign intrigues, and in defiance of its inhabitants; then winter set in with such unusual suddenness and severity that it was regarded as a kind of phenomenon. To these disasters must be added a mass of false reports, silly intrigues, treachery, stupidity, and, in short, many things that will perhaps one day come to light, and which will excuse or justify the two great errors I committed in diplomacy and war; namely, to have undertaken such an enterprise, leaving on my flanks, which soon became my rear, two cabinets of which I was not master, and two allied armies, which, on the least check would become my enemies. But to come to a conclusion, and to annul with a word every charge that can be brought against me, I may say that this famous war, this bold enterprise, was perfectly involuntary on my part. I did not wish to fight; neither did Alexander;—but being once in presence, circumstances urged us on, and fate accomplished the rest.”
After a few moments’ silence, and as if waking from a reverie, the Emperor added:—“A Frenchman had in his hands the fate of the world! If he had possessed judgment and spirit equal to the exalted situation in which he was placed, if he had been a good Swede as he pretended to be, he might have restored the glory and power of his adoptive country, have retaken Finland, and arrived at St. Petersburgh before I reached Moscow. But he was swayed by personal considerations, silly vanity, and all sorts of mean passions. His head was turned, when he saw that he, an old Jacobin, was courted and flattered by legitimates; when he found himself holding political and friendly conferences face to face with an Emperor of all the Russias, who took great pains to cajole him. It is affirmed that hints were even thrown out to him of the possibility of his obtaining the hand of one of the sisters of the Russian Emperor, by divorcing his wife; and, in a letter addressed to him by a French Prince, the writer remarked, with complacency, that Bearn was the cradle of both their houses! The house of Bernadotte forsooth!
“In his intoxication, he sacrificed both his new and his mother country, his own glory, his true power, the cause of the people, and the welfare of Europe! For this he will pay dearly! No sooner had he accomplished all that was expected of him than he began to feel what awaited him. It is said that he has repented of his conduct; but he has not yet expiated it. He is now the only upstart sovereign in Europe. The Scandal cannot remain unpunished; it would be too dangerous an example.”
THE EMPEROR HAS BUT LITTLE CONFIDENCE IN THE ISSUE OF 1815.—THEMISTOCLES.—IN THE CRISIS OF 1814, NAPOLEON HIMSELF MOMENTARILY ENTERTAINED A THOUGHT OF RESTORING THE BOURBONS.—BARON FAIN’S MANUSCRIPT OF 1814.—THE ABDICATION OF FONTAINEBLEAU, &C.
12th.—The Emperor, adverting to his return from the Island of Elba and his second fall at Waterloo, made some remarkable observations on both these subjects. “It is very certain,” said he, “that, during the events of 1815, I relinquished the anticipation of ultimate success: I lost my first confidence. Perhaps I found that I was wearing beyond the time of life at which fortune usually proves favourable; or, perhaps, in my own eyes, in my own imagination, the spell that had hung over my miraculous career was broken;—but, at all events, I felt that something was wanting. Kind Fortune no longer followed my footsteps, and took pleasure in lavishing her smiles upon me; she was now succeeded by rigid Fate, who took ample revenge for the few favours which I obtained, as it were, by force. It is a remarkable fact that every advantage I obtained at this period was immediately succeeded by a reverse.
“I marched through France, and arrived in the capital amidst the enthusiasm and universal acclamations of the people; but no sooner had I reached Paris than, by a sort of magic, and without any adequate motive, all around suddenly shrank from me and grew cold.