He once more took a review of the Generals of the army of Italy, describing their characters, and quoting many anecdotes respecting them. He spoke of the selfishness of one, of the false pretensions of another, the folly of a third; the depredations committed by some, the good qualities of others, and the important services rendered by all. He dwelt particularly on one, to whom he had been much attached, and whose defection, he said, had proved a severe wound to his heart. The Emperor remarked that, from what he knew of that individual, he was sure he must occasionally suffer deeply from remorse. “Never,” observed he, “was defection more fatal, or more decidedly avowed. It was recorded in the Moniteur, and by his own hand. It was the immediate cause of our disasters, the grave of our power, the cloud of our glory. And yet,” added he, in a tone of affection, “I am convinced that his sentiments are better than his reputation; his heart is superior to his conduct. Of this, he himself appears to be conscious. The newspapers inform us that when, soliciting in vain for the pardon of Lavalette, he exclaimed, with warmth, in reply to the obstacles urged by the Monarch, Sire, have I not given you more than life? We were, it is true,” said the Emperor, “betrayed by others, and in a manner still more vile; but no other act of apostacy was so solemnly recorded by official documents.”
The Emperor then observed that, at an early period of life, he had acted the part of a father to the General above alluded to, who could not enter the royal corps of artillery, and had been obliged to join a provincial regiment. “He was,” said the Emperor, “the nephew of one of my comrades at the school of Brienne, and in the regiment of La Fère, who, when he emigrated from France, recommended his young relation to my care. This circumstance imposed upon me the obligation of acting the part of his uncle and his father, which I literally did. I took a real interest in his welfare, and felt a pleasure in advancing his fortune. His father was a knight of St. Louis, the proprietor of some iron-works in Burgundy, and a man of considerable fortune.”[fortune.”]
Napoleon mentioned that, in 1794, as he was returning from the army of Nice to Paris, he visited the father’s chateau, where he was magnificently treated, as he was already beginning to enjoy a certain degree of reputation. The father, according to the son’s account, was an absolute miser. However, he determined to give a handsome reception to the guest who had been so kind to his son. His entertainment was distinguished by all the ostentation which misers are fond of displaying. He exhibited complete prodigality. It was in July or August, and he ordered immense fires to be kindled in all the apartments. “This,” said the Emperor, “would have been an incident for Moliere.”
Speaking of the manners of Paris, and its immense population, the Emperor adverted to the many evils which he said must inevitably exist in all great capitals, where depravity of every kind is continually stimulated by want, passion, wit, and the facilities afforded by bustle and confusion. He often repeated, that all capitals were so many Babylons. He adduced several proofs of odious libertinism with respect to Paris; and he mentioned that, after he became Emperor, he had perused the most scandalous book that was ever conceived by the most depraved imagination. It was a novel, which, even in the time of the Convention, had proved so offensive to public morals as to occasion the imprisonment of its author, who had continued in confinement ever since, and whom the Emperor believed to be still living. I have forgotten the name of the writer, and it was the first time I had ever heard the production mentioned.
The Emperor said that he had endeavoured, as far as circumstances permitted, to suppress many sources of immorality; but in some instances, he had not had courage to descend into details. For example, he prohibited masked gaming, and even had it in view to prohibit all gaming houses; but when I wished to have the subject thoroughly discussed in my presence, it proved to be a very difficult question. I mentioned that the police had even prohibited us from playing privately in one of the principal houses of the Faubourg St. Germain. The Emperor observed that he had had no idea of this act of tyranny; and yet, as I assured him, it was exercised by Fouché in his name. “That may be,” said he, “but I knew nothing of it; and so it was with all the details of the police, high, middling, and low.”
He then questioned me respecting the kind of gaming to which I had just alluded; and observing that, in my replies, I always used the plural we, he interrupted me, saying,—“Were you yourself one of the party? Were you a gamester?”—“Alas! Sire, I unfortunately was. Only at long intervals, it is true. But st¡ll, when the fit seized me, it urged me to excess.”—“I am very glad I knew nothing of it at the time,“ said the Emperor, “otherwise you would have been ruined in my esteem. This circumstance shews how little we knew of each other, and it also proves that you could not have made yourself many enemies; for there were charitable souls about me who would have taken care to inform me of your failing. My prejudice against gaming was well known. A gamester was sure to forfeit my confidence. I had not leisure to enquire whether I was right or wrong; but, whenever I heard that a man was addicted to gaming, I placed no more reliance on him.”
This allusion to the Faubourg St. Germain led us to mention many of the principal names in the capital. The Emperor made some remarks on the different members of the family of La Rochefoucault. He mentioned the lady of honour to the Empress Josephine; her husband, who was ambassador to Vienna and Holland; her brother, the member of the Legislative Body; their father, M. de Liancourt, whom he highly respected; and finally, the daughter whom he had given in marriage to Prince Aldobrandini, brother to Prince Borghese. He repeated that he had once entertained the idea of making her the wife of Ferdinand VII. He also mentioned another, M. de la Rochefoucault, who died in prison at the commencement of his reign, and he asked me what relation he was to the others. I could not inform him. I knew nothing either of the person or the circumstance mentioned by the Emperor.
“He was,” said Napoleon, “the author of a conspiracy against my person, which I never mentioned to you: it just now occurs to my recollection.
“This M. de la Rochefoucault formed in Paris, in behalf of the King, who was then at Mittau, a conspiracy, the first stroke of which was to be the death of the head of the Government. M. de la Rochefoucault ended his days in prison, after a long confinement. Some one having procured a knowledge of this affair, a confidential agent of the police pretended to enter into the conspiracy, and to become one of its most active members. He received his credentials at a chateau in Lorraine, from an old gentleman, who had held a distinguished rank in the army of Condé, and who had been enabled to return to France by the amnesty of the First Consul. This gentleman, who, to do him justice, was a very worthy man, was appointed to accredit the members of the conspiracy, and to afford them the necessary facilities for gaining access to Louis XVIII. at Mittau. He had evinced great repugnance on entering into the conspiracy. He said it was now too late to think of such enterprises, as France was beginning to enjoy repose. He solemnly declared his disapproval of any violence being offered to the First Consul, whom he now looked upon as something sacred. After having several interviews with Louis XVIII. at Mittau, the police agent returned with a knowledge of the whole affair. M. de la Rochefoucault and his party were arrested. If they had but known who disclosed their plot!”