The unfortunate people that have been shipped for the Cape will be fed like common sailors. I have heard, on this occasion, that the same thing took place on board the Northumberland, and that the Emperor’s servants had not had any indulgence more than the common sailors, except by paying for it.
After dinner the Emperor read, in Joinville, an account of the expedition of St. Louis in Egypt. He analysed it, pointing out its defects, and comparing the movements and the plan of that Expedition with the plan adopted by himself; concluding that “if he had acted in the same manner as St. Louis had done, he should undoubtedly have shared the same fate.”
The Emperor retired early and sent for me. The conversation again fell upon his excursions in Egypt, and in Syria. Matilda, a novel, by Madam Cottin, the scene of which is laid in those countries, being incidentally mentioned, led the Emperor to take a review of our female authors. He spoke of Madame Roland and her Memoirs, of Madame de Genlis, of Madame Cottin, whose Claire d’Albe he had just been reading, and of Madame de Staël. He spoke at length about the latter, and repeated in part what has already been said. Speaking of her exile, he said: “Her house had become quite an arsenal against me; people went there to be dubbed knights. She endeavoured to raise enemies against me and fought against me herself. She was at once Armida and Clorinda.” Then, summing up his arguments as he was wont to do, he said: “After all, it cannot be denied that Madame de Staël is a very distinguished woman, endowed with great talents and possessing a considerable share of wit. She will go down to posterity. It was more than once hinted to me, in order to soften me in her favour, that she was an adversary to be feared, and might become a useful ally; and certainly if, instead of reviling me as she did, she had spoken in my praise, it might no doubt have proved advantageous to me; for her position and her abilities gave her an absolute sway over the saloons, and their influence in Paris is well known.” He then added, “Notwithstanding all that she has said against me, and all that she will yet say, I am certainly far from thinking or saying that she has a bad heart: the fact is, that she and I have waged a little war against each other, and that is all.” Then taking a review of the numerous writers who have declaimed against him, he said: “I am destined to be their food, but I have little fear of becoming their victim; they will bite against granite; my history is made up of facts, and words alone cannot destroy them. In order to fight against me successfully, somebody should appear in the lists armed with the weight and authority of facts on his side. If such a man as the great Frederick, or any other man of his cast, were to take to writing against me, it would be a different thing; it would then, perhaps, be time for me to begin to be moved; but as for all other writers, whatever be their talent, their efforts will be vain. My fame will survive: and when they wish to be admired, they will sound my praise.”
CARE TAKEN OF THE WOUNDED IN THE ARMIES.—BARON
LARREY.—CHARACTERISTIC CIRCUMSTANCE.
22nd—23d. The weather has been very bad. The Emperor, suffering greatly from the tooth-ache, and having a swelled cheek, has not been able to go out for the last two days. I have spent the greatest part of them with him, in his apartment, or in the drawing-room, which he has converted into a promenade, by opening the doors of communication from one to the other.
Amongst the various subjects of our conversation, he once told me certain things which he had heard, and at which I much rejoiced. Nothing can give a more striking proof of the horrors of our situation than the importance which I attached to them. But every thing is in proportion to the situation in which we are placed.
At another time, the Emperor expressed his regret at being so lazy with respect to the English language. I told him that he now knew as much of it as he wanted. He could read all books; it was now only necessary to reduce the whole to a regular system—but, were the rule and compass fit things for him?
After going through several subjects of conversation, the Emperor spoke of Baron Larrey, on whom he passed the highest encomium, saying that Larrey had left the impression on his mind of a truly honest man; that to science he united, in the highest degree, the virtue of active philanthropy: he looked upon all the wounded as belonging to his family; every consideration gave way before the care which he bestowed upon the hospitals. “In our first campaigns under the Republic, which have been so much calumniated,” said the Emperor, “a most fortunate revolution took place in the surgical department, which has since spread to all the armies of Europe; and to Larrey it is, in great measure, that mankind is indebted for it. The surgeon now shares the dangers of the soldier: it is in the midst of the fire that he devotes his attentions to him. Larrey possesses all my esteem and my gratitude,” &c.
This favourable impression seems clearly to have occupied Napoleon’s mind in his last moments; for he has left Larrey a mark of his remembrance, with this honourable testimony “The most virtuous man that I have known.” On reading these words, I concluded that some peculiar circumstance must have produced this most magnificent expression of esteem, and the following is the result of my inquiries.
After the battles of Lützen, Wurtzen, and Bautzen, the victorious Napoleon sent for the surgeon (Larrey), to ascertain, as usual, the number of the wounded, and the state in which they were. They happened to be, on this occasion, considerably more numerous than at other times and in other engagements. The Emperor was surprised at this circumstance, and endeavoured to explain the cause of it. M. Larrey thought that, independently of local causes, it might be found in the great number of soldiers who had fought on that day for the first time, and who were, on that account, more awkward in their movements, and less expert in avoiding danger. The Emperor, whose mind was extremely pre-occupied by this affair, was not satisfied with this explanation, and made inquiries elsewhere. As there were, at that moment, several persons who were heartily tired of war; who would have wished for peace on any conditions; and who would not have been sorry to see the Emperor compelled to make it, whether from the effect of calculation or conviction; the Emperor was told, in answer to his inquiries, that the immense number of wounded ought not to be a matter of surprise; that the greatest proportion of them were wounded in the hand, and they had inflicted the wound on themselves, in order to be disabled from fighting. The Emperor was thunderstruck at this information; he repeated his inquiries, and found them attended with the same result; he was in a state of despair. “If it be thus,” he exclaimed, “notwithstanding our success, our situation is hopeless: France will be delivered up defenceless to the barbarians.”[barbarians.”] And turning over in his mind by what means he should put a stop to this contagion, he ordered all the wounded of a certain description to be put on one side; and named a commission, composed of surgeons, with Larrey at their head, to examine their wounds, resolved to punish most severely those who should be found to have been so cowardly as to mutilate themselves. M. Larrey, still unwilling to believe in this voluntary self-mutilation, which, in his opinion, was a stain on the honour of the army and of the nation, appeared before the Emperor to state his opinion once more to him. But Napoleon, incensed at his obstinacy, which some persons had taken care to magnify in his eyes, said to him, with severity, “Sir, you will make your observations to me officially;—go and fulfil your duty.”