The election took place; I was elected by ballot with a fairly large majority[35]. I at once set to work on my speech; I wrote and rewrote it a score of times, never feeling satisfied with myself: at one time, wishing to make it possible for me to read, I thought it too strong; at another, my anger returning, I thought it too weak. I did not know how to measure out the dose of academic praise. If, in spite of my antipathy for Napoleon, I had tried to render the admiration which I felt for the public portion of his life, I should have gone far beyond the peroration. Milton, whom I quote at the commencement of the speech, furnished me with a model; in his Second defense of the People of England, he made a pompous eulogy of Cromwell:

"Not only the actions of our kings," he says, "but the fabled exploits of our heroes, are overcome by your achievements. Reflect, then, frequently (how dear alike the trust, and the parent from you have received it!) that to your hands your country has commended and confided her freedom: that what she lately expected from her choicest representatives she now expects, now hopes, from you alone. O reverence this high expectation, this hope of your country relying exclusively upon yourself! Reverence the glances and the gashes of those brave men who have so nobly struggled for liberty under your auspices, as well as the shades of those who perished in the conflict! Reverence, finally, yourself, and suffer not that liberty, for the attainment of which you have endured so many hardships and encountered so many perils, to sustain any violation from your own hands, or any encroachment from those of others. Without our freedom, in fact, you cannot yourself be free: for it is justly ordained by nature that he who invades the liberty of others shall in the very outset lose his own, and be the first to feel the servitude which he has induced[36]."

Johnson quoted only the praises given to the Protector[37], in order to place the Republican in contradiction with himself; the fine passage which I have just translated contains its own qualification of those praises. Johnson's criticism is forgotten, Milton's defense has remained: all that belongs to the strife of parties and the passions of the moment dies like them and with them.

I am elected.

When my speech was ready, I was sent for to read it to the committee appointed to hear it: it was rejected by the committee, with the exception of two or three members[38]. It was a sight to see the terror of the bold Republicans who listened to me and who were alarmed by the independence of my opinions; they shuddered with indignation and fright at the mere word of liberty. M. Daru[39] took the speech to Saint-Cloud. Bonaparte declared that, if it had been delivered, he would have closed the doors of the Institute and flung me into a subterranean dungeon for the rest of my life.

I received the following note from M. Daru:

"Saint-Cloud, 28 April 1811.

"I have the honour to inform Monsieur de Chateaubriand that, when he has the time or occasion to come to Saint-Cloud, I shall be able to return to him the speech which he was good enough to entrust to me. I take this opportunity to repeat to him the assurance of the high consideration with which I have the honour to salute him.

"Daru."

I went to Saint-Cloud. M. Daru returned me the manuscript, crossed out in places, and scored ab irato with parentheses and pencil marks by Bonaparte: the lion's claw had been dug in everywhere, and I experienced a sort of pleasure of irritation in imagining that I felt it in my side. M. Daru did not conceal Napoleon's anger from me; but he told me, that, if I kept the peroration, with the exception of a few words, and changed almost the whole of the rest, I should be received with great applause. The speech had been copied out at the palace; some passages had been suppressed and others interpolated. Not long after, it appeared in the provinces printed in that fashion.

This speech is one of the best proofs of the independence of my opinions and the consistency of my principles. M. Suard, who was free and firm, said that, if it had been read in the open Academy, it would have brought down the rafters of the hall with applause. Can you, indeed, imagine the warm praises of liberty uttered in the midst of the servility of the Empire?