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Josephine.
Published for Henry Colburn, March 1836.

MEMOIRS
OF
THE LIFE, EXILE,
AND
CONVERSATIONS,
OF THE
EMPEROR NAPOLEON.

BY

THE COUNT DE LAS CASES.

A NEW EDITION.

WITH PORTRAITS

AND NUMEROUS OTHER EMBELLISHMENTS.

VOL. II.

LONDON:

PUBLISHED FOR HENRY COLBURN,

BY RICHARD BENTLEY; BELL AND BRADFUTE, EDINBURGH; J. CUMMING, DUBLIN;

AND ALL BOOKSELLERS.

MDCCCXXXVI.

ANDOVER:

STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY B. BENSLEY.

MEMOIRS

OF

THE EMPEROR NAPOLEON.

THE TWO EMPRESSES.—THE PRINCESS PAULINE.—ELOQUENT
EFFUSION OF THE EMPEROR.

On another of these evenings, the Emperor was holding forth against the caprice of women: “Nothing,” said he, “more clearly indicates rank, education, and good breeding among them, than evenness of temper and the constant desire to please.” He added that they were bound by circumstances to appear at all times mistresses of themselves, and to be always attending to their part on the stage. His two wives, he observed, had always been so: they certainly differed greatly in their qualities and dispositions; but they always agreed in this point. Never had he witnessed ill-humour in either the one or the other: to please him had been the constant object with both of them.

Some one ventured to observe, however, that Maria-Louisa had boasted that, whenever she desired any thing, no matter how difficult, she had only to weep. The Emperor laughed, and said, this was new to him. He might have suspected it of Josephine, but he had no idea of it in Maria-Louisa. And then, addressing himself to Mesdames Bertrand and Montholon: “Thus it is with you all, ladies,” said he: “in some points you all agree.”

He continued for a long time to talk about the two Empresses, and repeated, as usual, that one was Innocence, and the other the Graces. He passed from them to his sisters, and dwelt particularly on the charms of the Princess Pauline. It was admitted that she was, without dispute, the handsomest woman in Paris. The Emperor said that the artists were unanimous in considering her a perfect Venus de Medicis. A little pleasantry was hazarded on the influence which the Princess Pauline had exercised, at the Island of Elba, over General Drouot, whose assiduous attentions she attracted in spite of the difference of their ages and the harshness of his countenance. The Princess, it was said, had drawn from him the secret of the intended departure, eight days before it took place. He had repeated the fault of Turenne; and upon this the Emperor said, “Such are women, and such is their dangerous power!” Here Madame Bertrand declared that the Grand Marshal, to a certainty, had not done as much. “Madame,” retorted the Emperor with a smile, “he was only your husband.” Some one having remarked that the Princess Pauline, when at Nice, had set up a post-waggon on the road, by which dresses and fashions arrived from Paris every day, the Emperor said: “If I had been aware of it, that should not have lasted long, she should have been well scolded. But thus it happens: while one is Emperor one knows nothing of these matters.”

After this conversation the Emperor enquired what was the day of the month: it was the 11th of March. “Well!” said he, “it is a year ago to-day, it was a brilliant day; I was at Lyons, I reviewed some troops, I had the Mayor to dine with me, who, by the way, has boasted since that it was the worst dinner he ever made in his life.” The Emperor became animated; he paced the chamber quickly. “I was again become a great power,” he continued: and a sigh escaped him, which he immediately checked with these words, in an accent and with a warmth which it is difficult to describe: “I had founded the finest empire in the world, and I was so necessary to it that, in spite of all the last reverses, here, upon my rock, I seem still to remain the master of France. Look at what is going on there, read the papers, you will find it so in every line. Let me once more set my foot there, they will see what France is, and what I can do!” And then what ideas, what projects, he developed for the glory and happiness of the country! He spoke for a long time, with so much interest, and so unreservedly, that we could have forgotten time, place, and seasons. A part of what he said follows:

“What a fatality,” he said, "that my return from the Island of Elba was not acquiesced in, that every one did not perceive that my reign was desirable and necessary for the balance and repose of Europe! But kings and people both feared me; they were wrong, and may pay dearly for it. I returned a new man; they could not believe it; they could not imagine that a man might have sufficient strength of mind to alter his character, or to bend to the power of circumstances. I had, however, given proofs of this, and some pledges to the same effect. Who is ignorant that I am not a man for half-measures? I should have been as sincerely the monarch of the constitution and of peace, as I had been of absolute sway and great enterprises.

"Let us reason a little upon the fears of kings and people on my account. What could the kings apprehend? Did they still dread my ambition, my conquests, my universal monarchy? But my power and my resources were no longer the same; and, besides, I had only defeated and conquered in my own defence: this is a truth which time will more fully develop every day. Europe never ceased to make war upon France, her principles, and me; and we were compelled to destroy, to save ourselves from destruction. The coalition always existed openly or secretly, avowed or denied; it was permanent; it only rested with the Allies to give us peace; for ourselves, we were worn out; the French dreaded making new conquests. As to myself, is it supposed that I am insensible to the charms of repose and security, when glory and honour do not require it otherwise? With our two Chambers, they might have forbidden me in future to pass the Rhine; and why should I have wished it? For my universal monarchy? But I never gave any convincing proof of insanity; and what is its chief characteristic, but a disproportion between our object and the means of attaining it. If I have been on the point of accomplishing this universal monarchy, it was without any original design, and because I was led on to it step by step. The last efforts wanting to arrive at it seemed so trifling, was it very unreasonable to attempt them? But, on my return from Elba, could a similar idea, a thought so mad, a purpose so unattainable, enter the head of the silliest man in the world? The Sovereigns, then, had nothing to fear from my arms.

"Did they apprehend that I might overwhelm them with anarchical principles? But they knew by experience my opinions on that point. They have all seen me occupy their territories: how often have I been urged to revolutionize their states, give municipal functions to their cities, and excite insurrection among their subjects! However I may have been stigmatized, in their names, as the modern Attila, Robespierre on horseback, &c. they all know better at the bottom of their hearts—let them look there! Had I been so, I might perhaps still have reigned; but they most certainly would have long since ceased to reign. In the great cause of which I saw myself the chief and the arbiter, one of two systems was to be followed: to make kings listen to reason from the people; or to conduct the people to happiness by means of their kings. But it is well known to be no easy matter to check the people when they are once set on: it was more rational to reckon a little upon the wisdom and intelligence of rulers. I had a right always to suppose them possessed of sufficient intellect to see such obvious interests: I was deceived; they never calculated at all, and in their blind fury, they let loose against me that which I withheld when opposed to them. They will see!!!

"Lastly, did the Sovereigns take umbrage at seeing a mere soldier attain a crown? Did they fear the example? The solemnities, the circumstances, that accompanied my elevation, my eagerness to conform to their habits, to identify myself with their existence, to become allied to them by blood and by policy, closed the door sufficiently against new comers. Besides, if there must needs have been the spectacle of an interrupted legitimacy, I maintain that it was much more to their interest that it should take place in my person, one risen from the ranks, than in that of a prince, one of their own family: for thousands of ages will elapse before the circumstances accumulated in my case draw forth another from among the crowd to reproduce the same spectacle; while there is not a Sovereign who has not, at a few paces distance in his palace, cousins, nephews, brothers, and relations, to whom it would be easy to follow such an example if once set.

"On the other side, what was there to alarm the people? Did they fear that I should come to plunder and to impose chains on them?—On the contrary, I came the Messiah of peace and of their rights: this new maxim was my whole strength—to violate it would have been ruin. But even the French mistrusted me; they had the insanity to discuss, when there was nothing to do but to fight; to divide, when they should have united on any terms. And was it not better to run the risk of having me again for master than to expose themselves to that of being subjected to a foreign yoke? Would it not have been easier to rid themselves of a single despot, of one tyrant, than to shake off the chains of all the nations united? And moreover, whence arose this mistrust of me? Because they had already seen me concentrate all efforts in myself, and direct them with a vigorous hand? But do they not learn at the present day, to their cost, how necessary that was? Well! the danger was in any case the same: the contest terrible, and the crisis imminent. In this state of things, was not absolute power necessary, indispensable? The welfare of the country obliged me even to declare it openly on my return from Leipsic. I should have done so again on my return from Elba. I was wanting in consistency, or rather in confidence in the French, because many of them no longer placed any in me, and it was doing me a great wrong. If narrow and vulgar minds only saw, in all my efforts, a care for my own power, ought not those of greater scope to have shewn that, under the circumstances in which we were placed, my power and the country were but one! Did it require such great and incurable mischiefs to enable them to comprehend me? History will do me more justice: it will signalize me as the man of self-denials and disinterestedness. To what temptations was I not exposed in the army of Italy? England offered me the Crown of France at the time of the treaty of Amiens.—I refused peace at Châtillon: I disdained all personal stipulations at Waterloo;—and why? Because all this had no reference to my country, and I had no ambition distinct from her’s—that of her glory, her ascendancy, her majesty. And there is the reason that, in spite of so many calamities, I am still so popular among the French. It is a sort of instinct of after-justice on their part.

"Who in the world ever had greater treasures at his disposal? I have had many hundred millions in my vaults; many other hundreds composed my domaine de l’extraordinaire: all these were my own. What is become of them?—They were poured out in the distresses of the country. Let them contemplate me here: I live destitute upon my rock. My fortune was wholly in that of France. In the extraordinary situation to which fate had raised me, my treasures were her’s: I had identified myself completely with her destinies. What other calculation was consistent with the height to which I had risen? Was I ever seen occupied about my personal interests? I never knew any other enjoyment, any other riches, than those of the public;—so much so, that when Josephine, who had a taste for the Arts, succeeded under the sanction of my name in acquiring some master-pieces, though they were in my palace, under my eyes, in my family apartments, they offended me, I thought myself robbed: they were not in the Museum.

“Ah! the French people undoubtedly did much for me! more than was ever done before for man! But, at the same time, who ever did so much for them? who ever identified himself with them in the same manner? But to return.—After all, what could be their fears? Were not the Chambers and the new Constitution sufficient guarantees for the future? Those additional Acts, against which so much indignation was expressed, did they not carry in themselves their own corrective—remedies that were infallible? How could I have violated them? I had not myself millions of arms; I was but one man. Public opinion raised me up once more; public opinion might equally put me down again; and, compared with this risk, what had I to gain?”

"But as to surrounding States (I speak particularly as regards England), what could be her fears, her motives, her jealousies? We enquire in vain. With our new Constitution, our two Chambers, had we not adopted her creed for the future? Was not that the sure means of coming to a mutual understanding, to establish in future a community of interest? The caprice, the passions of their rulers, once fettered, the interests of the people move on, without obstacle, in their natural course: look at the merchants of hostile nations; they continue their intercourse, and pursue their business however their governments may wage war. The two nations had arrived at that point.—Thanks to their respective parliaments, each would have become the guarantee for the other: and who can ever tell to what extent the union of the two nations and of their interests might have been carried; what new combinations might have been set to work? It is certain that, on the establishment of our two Chambers and our Constitution, the Ministers of England had in their hands the glory and prosperity of their country,[country,] the destinies and the welfare of the world. Had I beaten the English army and won my last battle, I should have caused a great and happy astonishment; the following day I would have proposed peace, and, for once, it would have been I who scattered benefits with a prodigal hand. Instead of this, perhaps, the English will one day have to lament that they were victorious at Waterloo.

"I repeat it, the people and the sovereigns were wrong: I had restored thrones and an inoffensive nobility; and thrones and nobility may again find themselves in danger. I had fixed and consecrated the reasonable limits of the people’s rights; vague, peremptory and undefined claims may again arise.

“Had my return, my establishment[establishment] on the throne, my adoption, been freely acquiesced in by the sovereigns, the cause of kings and the people would have been settled; both would have gained. Now they are again to try it; both may lose. They might have concluded every thing; they may have every thing to begin again: they might have secured a long and certain calm, and already begun to enjoy it: and, instead of that, a spark may now be sufficient to re-produce a general conflagration! Poor, weak humanity!”

Attached, as I am, to the words and the opinions which I gathered from Napoleon on his rock of exile, and however perfectly persuaded and convinced of their entire sincerity, I do not the less experience an extreme gratification, whenever a testimony from another quarter confirms the truth of them; and I am bound to say that I have that gratification as often as opportunity occurs of obtaining other evidence.

The reader has just perused the foregoing remarkable passage, in which Napoleon expresses his ideas, his intentions, his sentiments. What a value do not these expressions collected at St. Helena acquire, when we find them re-echoed in Europe, at the distance of 2000 leagues, by a celebrated writer, who, with a shade of difference in his opinions, and at a very different time, had himself received them from the same lips! What a fortunate circumstance for history! I cannot, indeed, forbear bringing forward here this extract from M. Benjamin Constant, as well on account of the intrinsic merit of the expressions, as from the weight they acquire from the distinguished writer who records them; and also from the pleasure I feel in seeing them coincide so exactly with what I have collected myself in another hemisphere. There are the same intentions, the same depth of thought, the same sentiments.

“I went to the Tuileries,” says M. Benjamin Constant in his account; "I found Bonaparte alone. He began the conversation: it was long: I will only give an analysis of it; for I do not propose to make an exhibition of an unfortunate man. I will not amuse my readers at the expense of fallen greatness; I will not give up to malevolent curiosity him whom I have served, whatever might be my motive; and I will not transcribe more of his discourse than is indispensable: but in what I shall transcribe, I will use his own words.

“He did not attempt to deceive me either as to his views, or the state of affairs. He did not present himself as one corrected by the lessons of adversity: he did not desire to take the merit of returning to liberty from inclination; he investigated coolly, as regarded his interest, and, with an impartiality too nearly allied to indifference, what was possible and what was preferable.

“‘The nation,’ said he, ‘has rested for twelve years from all political agitation, and for a year it has been undisturbed by war: this double repose has begotten a necessity for motion. It desires, or fancies it desires, a public rostrum and assemblies; it has not always desired them. It cast itself at my feet when I came to the government; you must remember, you who made trial of its opinion. Where was your support, your power? No where. I took less authority than I was invited to take. Now all is changed. A weak government, opposed to the interests of the nation, has given these interests the habit of taking up the defensive, and of cavilling at authority. The taste for constitutions, debates, harangues, seems to return.... However, it is only the minority that desires it, do not deceive yourself. The people, or if you like it better, the mob, desire me alone; you have not seen them, this mob, crowding after me, rushing from the tops of the mountains, calling me, seeking me, saluting me.[^[1]] On my return hither from Cannes, I did not conquer—I administered.... I am not only, as it has been said, the Emperor of the soldiers; I am the Emperor of the peasants, of the lower ranks in France.... Thus, in spite of all that is past, you see the people return to me—there is a sympathy between us. It is not so with the privileged classes; the nobility have served me, have rushed in crowds into my ante-chambers, there are no offices that they have not accepted, solicited, pressed for. I have had my Montmorencies, my Noailles, my Rohans, my Beauveaus, my Mortemarts. But there was no analogy between us. The steed curvetted, he was well trained, but I felt him quivering under me. With the people it is another thing; the popular fibre responds to mine: I am come from the ranks of the people, my voice has influence over them. Observe these conscripts, these sons of peasants, I did not flatter them, I treated them with severity; they did not the less surround me, they did not the less shout ‘The Emperor for ever!’ It is because between them and me there is an identity of nature; they look to me as their support, their defender against the nobles.... I have but to make a sign, or rather to turn away my eyes, and the nobles will be massacred in all the departments. They have carried on such fine intrigues for these six months!... But I will not be the King of a Jacquerie. If there are any means of governing with a Constitution, well and good..... I wished for the empire of the world; and, to insure it, unlimited power was necessary to me. To govern France only, a Constitution may be better.... I wished for the empire of the world, and who in my situation would not have wished for it? The world invited me to govern it: sovereigns and subjects vied with each other in hastening beneath my sceptre. I have rarely found any opposition in France; but I have, however, met with more from some obscure unarmed Frenchmen, than from all those kings, so vain at present of no longer having a popular man for their equal.... Consider, then, what seems to you to be possible. Give me your ideas. Free elections, public discussions, responsible ministers, liberty, all this is my wish.... The liberty of the press in particular: to stifle it is absurd—I am satisfied upon this point.... I am the man of the people, if the people sincerely wish for liberty: I owe it to them. I have recognised their sovereignty; I am bound to lend an ear to their desires, even to their caprices. I never desired to oppress them for my own gratification. I had great designs, fate has decided them; I am no longer a conqueror, I can no more become so. I know what is possible and what is not; I have now but once charge—to relieve France, and to give her a government that is suited to her.... I am not inimical to liberty: I set it aside when it obstructed my road; but I comprehend it, I have been educated in its principles.... At the same time, the work of fifteen years is destroyed; it cannot begin again. It would require twenty years, and the sacrifice of two millions of men.... Besides I am desirous of peace, and I shall obtain it only by dint of victories. I will not hold out false hopes to you; I cause reports to be circulated that negotiations are on foot; but there are none. I foresee a difficult contest, a long war. To maintain it, the nation must support me; but in return, it will require liberty,—and it shall have it.... The situation is new. I desire no better than to receive information; I grow old; a man is no longer at forty-five what he was at thirty. The repose of a constitutional monarch may be well suited to me. It will assuredly be still more suitable to my son.’”

13th.—The Emperor sent instructions to the Grand Marshal to write to the Admiral to enquire if a letter which he, Napoleon, should write to the Prince Regent would be sent to him. Towards four o’clock, the Deputy Governor Skelton and his lady desired to pay their respects to the Emperor. He received them, took them to walk in the garden, and afterwards out with him in his carriage. The weather had been extremely foggy all day. Upon its clearing up for a short time we saw, on a sudden, a corvette or frigate very near, and coming in with all sails set.

INSULT TO THE EMPEROR AND THE PRINCE OF WALES.—EXECUTION
OF NEY.—ESCAPE OF LAVALETTE.

14th—15th. We received the Admiral’s answer. After beginning, according to his established form, by saying that he knew no person by the title of ‘Emperor’ at St. Helena, he stated, that he would undoubtedly send the Emperor’s letter to the Prince Regent: but that he should adhere to the tenor of his instructions, which directed him not to allow any paper to be despatched to England, without having first opened it.

This communication, it must be acknowledged, gave us great astonishment: the part of the instructions cited by the Admiral had two objects in view, both of them foreign to the interpretation put upon them by this officer.

The first was, in the case of our making any complaints, that the local authorities might add their observations, and that the government, in England, might do us justice more speedily, without being obliged to send again to the island for farther information. This precaution, then, was entirely for our interest. The second object of this measure was that our correspondence might not be prejudicial to the interests of the government or the policy of England. But we were writing to the Sovereign, to the chief, to the individual in whom these interests and this government centered: and if there was any conspiracy here, it was not on the part of us, who were writing to him, but rather on his who intercepted our letter, or resolved to violate the privacy of it. That they should place jailors about us with all their equipage, though we did not consider it just, still it seemed possible. But that these jailors should cause their functions to react, even upon their Sovereign, was a thing for which we could not find a name! It was to attach to him completely the idea of a King without faculties, or of a Sultan buried in the recesses of his Seraglio! It was really a monstrous phenomenon in our European manners!

For a long time, we had little or no intercourse with the Admiral. One thought that ill humour had perhaps dictated his answer; another supposed that he was fearful the letter might contain some complaints against him. But the Admiral knew the Emperor too well, not to be aware that he would never appeal to any other tribunal than to that of nations. I, who knew what would have been the subject of the letter, felt the most lively indignation at it! The sole intention of the Emperor had been to employ this method, the only one that seemed compatible with his dignity, to write to his wife, and obtain tidings of his son. However, the Grand Marshal replied to the Admiral that he either over-stepped, or misinterpreted his instructions; that his determination could only be regarded as another instance of flagrant vexation; that the condition imposed was too much beneath the dignity of the Emperor, as well as of the Prince Regent, for him to retain any intention of writing.

The frigate that had just arrived was the Spey, bringing the European papers to the 31st December: they contained the execution of the unfortunate Marshal Ney, and the escape of Lavalette.

“Ney,” said the Emperor, “as ill attacked as defended, had been condemned by the Chamber of Peers, in the teeth of a formal capitulation. His execution had been allowed to take place; that was another error—from that moment he became a martyr. That Labedoyere should not have been pardoned, because the clemency extended to him would have seemed only a predilection in favour of the old Aristocracy, might be conceived; but the pardon of Ney would only have been a proof of the strength of the government, and the moderation of the Prince. It will be said, perhaps, that an example was necessary! But the Marshal would become so, much more certainly, by a pardon, after being degraded by a sentence: it was, to him, in fact, a moral death that deprived him of all influence; and nevertheless the object of authority would be obtained, the Sovereign satisfied, the example complete. The refusal of pardon to Lavalette, and his escape, were new grievances equally unpopular,” said the Emperor.

“But the saloons of Paris,” he observed, “exhibited the same passions as the clubs; the nobility were a new version of the Jacobins. Europe, moreover, was in a state of complete anarchy; the code of political immorality was openly followed; whatever fell into the hands of the Sovereigns was turned to the advantage of each of them. At least in my time I was the butt of all the accusations of this kind. The Sovereigns then talked of nothing but principles and virtue; but now,” added he, “that they are victorious and without control, they practise unblushingly all the wrongs which they themselves then reprobated. What resource and what hope were there then left for nations and for morality? Our countrywomen at least,” he observed, “have rendered their sentiments illustrious: Madame Labedoyere was on the point of dying from grief, and these papers shew us that Madame Ney has displayed the most courageous and determined devotion. Madame Lavalette is become the heroine of Europe.”

MESSAGE FOR THE PRINCE REGENT.

16th.—The Emperor had quitted the Encyclopedia Britannica, to take his lessons in English in the Annual Register. He read there the adventure of a Mr. Spencer Smith, arrested at Venice, ordered to be sent to Valenciennes, and who made his escape on the road. “This must be a very simple affair,” said the Emperor, “which the narrator has converted into a statement of importance.” The circumstance was totally unknown to him; it was a police affair of too little consequence, he observed, to have found its way up to him.

About four o’clock the captain of the Spey, just arrived from Europe, and the captain of the Ceylon, about to sail for England, were presented to the Emperor. He was in low spirits—he was unwell: the audience of the first was very short; that of the second would have been the same, had he not roused the Emperor by asking if we had any letters to send to Europe. The Emperor then desired me to ask him if he should see the Prince Regent; on his answering in the affirmative, I was charged to inform him that the Emperor was desirous of writing to the Prince Regent, but that in consequence of the observation of the Admiral, that he would open the letter, he had abstained from it, as being inconsistent with his dignity and with that of the Prince Regent himself: that he had, indeed, heard the laws of England much boasted of, but that he could not discover their benefits anywhere; that he had only now to expect, indeed to desire, an executioner; that the torture they made him endure was inhuman, savage; that it would have been more open and energetic to put him to death. The Emperor made me request of the captain that he would take upon him to deliver these words, and dismissed him: he looked very red and was much embarrassed.

SPIRIT OF THE INHABITANTS OF THE ISLE OF FRANCE.

17th.—An English Colonel, arrived from the Cape on his return from the Isle of France, came in the morning and addressed himself to me, to try to get an introduction to the Emperor. The Admiral had only allowed his vessel to remain two or three hours in the road. Having prevailed on the Emperor to receive him at four o’clock, he assured me that he would rather miss his vessel than lose such an opportunity. The Emperor was not very well, he had passed several hours in his bath; at four he received the Colonel.

The Emperor put many questions to him concerning the Isle of France, lately ceded to the English; it seems that its prosperity and its commerce suffer from its change of sovereignty.

After the departure of the Colonel, being alone with the Emperor in the garden, I told him that his person seemed to have remained very dear to the inhabitants of the Isle of France; that the Colonel had informed me that the name of Napoleon was never pronounced there but with commiseration. It was precisely on the day of a great festival in the colony, that they learned his departure from France and his arrival at Plymouth; the theatre was to be particularly attractive: the news having arrived during the day, in the evening there was not a single colonist, either white or of colour, in the house: there were only some English, who were exceedingly confused and irritated at the circumstance. The Emperor listened to me. “It is quite plain,” said he, after some moments’ silence; “this proves that the inhabitants of the Isle of France have continued French. I am the country; they love it: it has been wounded in my person, they are grieved at it.” I added that the change of dominion restraining their expressions, they durst not propose his health publicly; but that the Colonel said they never neglected it notwithstanding; they drank to him, this word had become consecrated to Napoleon. These details touched him. “Poor Frenchmen!” he said with emphasis—"Poor People! Poor Nation! I deserved all that, I loved thee! But thou, thou surely didst not deserve all the ills that press upon thee! Ah! thou didst merit well that one should devote himself to thee! But what infamy, what baseness, what degradation, it must be confessed, I had about me!" And, addressing himself to me, he added: “I do not speak here of your friends of the Fauxbourg-Saint-Germain; for with respect to them it is another matter.”

There frequently reached us incidents and expressions which, like those from the Isle of France, were calculated to excite emotion in the heart. The Island of Ascension, in our neighbourhood, had always been desert and abandoned; since we have been here, the English have thought proper to form an establishment there. The captain who went to take possession of it told us, on his return, that he was much astonished on landing to find upon the beach, May the great Napoleon live for ever!

In the last papers that reached us, among many good-natured sallies, it was remarked, in several languages, that Paris would never be happy till his Helen should be restored to him: these were a few drops of honey in our cup of wormwood.

HIS INTENTIONS RESPECTING ROME.—HORRIBLE
FOOD.—BRITANNICUS.

18th—19th. The Emperor was on horseback by eight o’clock. He had abstained from it for a long time: want of space to ride over was the cause. His health suffers visibly in consequence, and it is astonishing that the want of exercise is not still more hurtful to him, who was in the daily habit of taking it to a violent degree. On our return, the Emperor breakfasted out of doors; he detained us all. After breakfast, the conversation fell on Herculaneum and Pompeii; the phenomenon and epoch of their destruction, the time and the accident of their modern discovery, the monuments and the curiosities, which they have since afforded us. The Emperor said that if Rome had remained under his dominion, she would have risen again from her ruins: he intended to have cleared away all the rubbish; to have restored as much as possible. He did not doubt that, the same spirit extending through all the vicinity, it might have been in some degree the same with Herculaneum and Pompeii.

Breakfast being concluded, the Emperor sent my son to bring the volume of Crevier which contains this event; and he read it to us, as well as the death and character of Pliny. He retired about noon to take some rest. Towards six o’clock we took our usual round in the carriage. The Emperor took with him Mr. and Mrs. Skelton, who were come to visit him.

On our return, the Emperor, driven from the garden by the damp, went to see General Gourgaud, who was recovering rapidly. After dinner, on leaving the table and returning to the drawing-room, we could not help reverting to the meal we had just made;—literally nothing was fit to eat: the bread bad, the wine not drinkable, the meat disgusting and unwholesome: we are frequently obliged to send it back again. They continue in spite of our remonstrances, to send it to us dead, because by that method they can put us off with such animals as have died naturally.

The Emperor, shocked at this representation, could not refrain from saying, with warmth: “No doubt there are people whose physical situation is still worse; but that circumstance does not deprive us of the right of giving an opinion on our own condition, or on the infamous manner in which we are treated. The injustice of the English government, not content with sending us hither, has extended to the selection of the individuals to whom our persons and the supply of our wants are intrusted! For my part, I should suffer less if I were sure that it would one day be divulged to the whole world in such a way as to brand with infamy those who are guilty of it. But let us talk of something else,” said he—“what is the day of the month?” He was told it was the 19th of March: “What!” he exclaimed, “the eve of the 20th of March!” And a few seconds afterwards: “But let us talk of something else.” He sent for a volume of Racine, and at first began to read the comedy of the Plaideurs: but, after a scene or two, he turned to Britannicus, which he read to us. When the reading was concluded, and the due tribute of admiration had been paid, he said that Racine was censured for making the dénouement of this piece too sudden, that the poisoning of Britannicus was not expected so early in the play as it ought to have been. He highly praised the truth of the character of Narcissus, observing that it was always by wounding the self-love of princes that their determinations were most influenced.

20TH OF MARCH.—THE ACCOUCHEMENT OF THE EMPRESS.

20th.—After dinner one of us observed to the Emperor that he had been less solitary, less quiet, that day twelve-month at the same hour. “I was sitting down to table at the Tuileries,” said the Emperor. “I had found it difficult to get thither: the dangers I went through in that attempt were at least equal to those of a battle.” In fact he had been seized, on his arrival, by thousands of officers and citizens; one party had snatched him from another; he had been carried to the palace, and, amidst a tumult like that of a mob about to tear a man to pieces, instead of the orderly and respectful attendance of a multitude intent on shewing their veneration for an individual. But we ought to look at the sentiment and intention in this case: it was enthusiasm, and love, carried to a pitch that resembled rage or madness.

The Emperor added that in all probability more than one person in Europe would talk of him that evening; and that, in spite of all observation, many a bottle would be emptied on his account.

The conversation then turned on the King of Rome; that day was the anniversary of his birth; the Emperor reckoned that he must be five years old. He then spoke of the accouchement of the Empress, and seemed to take some pleasure in boasting that he had proved himself, on that occasion, as good a husband as any in the world. He assisted the Empress to walk about all night. We who were of the household knew something of the matter; we had all been called together at the palace at ten in the evening; we passed the night there; and the cries of the Empress sometimes reached our ears. Towards morning the accoucheur having told the Emperor that the pains had ceased, and that the labour might yet be tedious, the Emperor went to the bath, and sent us away, desiring us, however, not to go from home. The Emperor had not been long in the bath, when the pains came on again; and the accoucheur ran to him, almost out of his wits, saying he was the most unfortunate of men; that out of a thousand labours in Paris there was not one more difficult. The Emperor, dressing himself again as fast as he could, encouraged him, saying that a man who understood his business ought never to lose his presence of mind; that there was nothing in this case that he ought to be uneasy about; that he had only to fancy he was delivering a citizen’s wife of the Rue Saint-Denis: that nature had but one law; that he was sure he would act for the best; and, above all, that he need not fear any reproach. It was then represented to the Emperor that there was great danger either for the mother or the child. “If the mother lives,” said he, without hesitation, "I shall have another child. Act in this case as if you were attending the birth of a cobbler’s[cobbler’s] son."

When he reached the Empress she really was in danger; the child presented itself in an unfavourable posture, and there was every reason to fear that it would be stifled.[^[2]]

The Emperor asked Dubois why he did not deliver her. He excused himself, being unwilling to do it, he said, except in the presence of Corvisart, who had not yet arrived. “But what can he tell you?” said the Emperor. “If it is a witness, or a justification, you want to secure, here am I.” Then Dubois, taking off his coat, commenced the operation. When the Empress saw the instruments, she cried out in a piteous manner, exclaiming that they were going to kill her. She was firmly held by the Emperor, Madame de Montesquiou, Corvisart, who had just come in, &c. Madame de Montesquiou dexterously took an opportunity to encourage her, by declaring that she herself had more than once been in the same situation.

The Empress, however, still persuaded herself that she was treated differently from other women, and often repeated, “Am I to be sacrificed because I am an Empress?” She declared, afterwards, to the Emperor, that she really had entertained this fear. At length she was delivered. The danger had been so imminent, said the Emperor, that all the etiquette which had been studied and ordered was disregarded, and the child put on one side, on the floor, whilst every one was occupied about the mother only. The infant remained some moments in this situation, and it was thought he was dead: it was Corvisart who took him up, chafed him, and brought him to utter a cry.[^[3]]

CATILINE’S CONSPIRACY.—THE GRACCHI.—HISTORIANS.—SLEEP DURING A BATTLE.—CÆSAR AND HIS COMMENTARIES OF DIFFERENT MILITARY SYSTEMS.

21st—22nd. The Emperor rode out very early: we made the tour of our limits in several directions. It is during these rides that the Emperor now takes his lessons in English. I walk by his side; he speaks a few sentences in English, which I translate, word by word, as he pronounces them; by which method he perceives when he is understood, or is enabled to correct his mistakes. When he has finished a sentence, I repeat it to him in English, so that he may understand it well himself: this helps to form his ear.

The Emperor was reading to-day, in the Roman History, of Catiline’s conspiracy; he could not comprehend it in the way in which it is described. “However great a villain Catiline might be,” observed he, “he must have had some object in view: it could not be that of governing in Rome, since he is accused of having intended to set fire to the four quarters of the city.” The Emperor conceived it to be much more probable that it was some new faction similar to those of Marius and Sylla, which having failed, all the accusations calculated to excite the horror of patriots, were, as usual in such cases, heaped on the head of its leader. It was then observed to the Emperor that the same thing would infallibly have happened to himself, had he been overpowered in Vendemiaire, Fructidor, or Brumaire, before he had illumined with such radiant brilliancy an horizon cleared of clouds.

The Gracchi gave rise to doubts and suspicions of a very different sort in his mind, which, he said, became almost certainties to those who had been engaged in the politics of our times. “History,” said he, "presents these Gracchi, in the aggregate, as seditious people, revolutionists, criminals; and, nevertheless, allows it to appear, in detail, that they had virtues; that they were gentle, disinterested, moral men; and, besides, they were the sons of the illustrious Cornelia, which, to great minds, ought to be a strong primary presumption in their favour. How then can such a contrast be accounted for? It is thus: the Gracchi generously devoted themselves in behalf of the rights of the oppressed people, against a tyrannical senate; and their great talents and noble character endangered a ferocious aristocracy, which triumphed, murdered, and calumniated them. The historians of a party have transmitted their characters in the same spirit. Under the Emperors it was necessary to continue in the same manner; the bare mention of the rights of the people, under a despotic master, was a blasphemy, a downright crime. Afterwards, the case was the same under the feudal system, which was so fruitful in petty despots. Such, no doubt, is the fatality which has attended the memory of the Gracchi. Throughout succeeding ages their virtues have never ceased to be considered crimes; but at this day, when, possessed of better information, we have thought it expedient to reason, the Gracchi may and ought to find favour in our eyes.

“In that terrible struggle between the aristocracy and democracy, which has been renewed in our times—in that exasperation of ancient landed property against modern industry, which still ferments throughout Europe, there is no doubt that if the aristocracy should triumph by force, it would point out many Gracchi in all directions, and treat them as mercifully as its predecessors did the Gracchi of Rome.”

The Emperor added that it was, moreover, easy to see that there was a hiatus in the ancient authors at this period of history; that all which the moderns now presented to us on this subject was mere gleaning. He then reverted to the charges already made against honest Rollin and his pupil Crevier: they were both devoid of talent, system, or colouring. It was to be allowed that the ancients were far superior to us in this point; and that because, amongst them, statesmen were literary men, and men of letters statesmen; they combined professions, whilst we divide them in an absolute manner. This famous division of labour, which in our times produces such a perfection in mechanical arts, is quite fatal to excellence in mental productions: every work of genius is superior in proportion to the universality of the mind whence it emanates. We owe to the Emperor the attempt to establish this principle by frequently employing on various objects men wholly unconnected with each other;—it was his system. He once appointed, of his own accord, one of his chamberlains to go into Illyria to liquidate the Austrian debt: this was a matter of importance, and extremely complicated. The chamberlain, who had previously been a total stranger to public business, was alarmed; and the minister, who had been deprived of this appointment, being dissatisfied with it, ventured to represent to the Emperor that, his nomination having fallen on a man entirely new to such matters, it might be feared that he would not acquit himself satisfactorily. “I have a lucky hand, sir,” was his answer: “those on whom I lay it are fit for every thing.”

The Emperor, proceeding in his criticism, also censured severely what he called historical fooleries, ridiculously exalted by translators and commentators. “Such things prove, in the first place,” said he, “that the historians formed erroneous judgments of men and circumstances. They are wrong, for instance,” said Napoleon, “when they applaud so highly the continence of Scipio, and fall into ecstasies at the calmness of Alexander, Cæsar, and others, for having been able to sleep on the eve of a battle. It could only be a monk, debarred from women, whose face brightens up at the very name—who neighs behind his bars at their approach, who could give Scipio much credit for forbearing to violate the female whom chance threw into his power, while he had so many others entirely at his disposal. A famished man might as well praise the hero for having quietly passed by a table covered with victuals, without greedily snatching at them.” As to sleeping just before a battle, there was not, he assured us, one of our soldiers or generals who had not twenty times performed that miracle; their heroism was chiefly produced by the fatigue of the day before.

Here the Grand Marshal added that he could safely say he had seen Napoleon sleep, not only on the eve of an engagement, but even during the battle. “I was obliged to do so,” said Napoleon, “when I fought battles that lasted three days; Nature was also to have her due: I took advantage of the smallest intervals, and slept where and when I could.” He slept on the field of battle at Wagram, and at Bautzen, even during the action, and completely within the range of the enemy’s balls. On this subject, he said that, independently of the necessity of obeying nature, these slumbers afforded a general, commanding a very large army, the important advantage of enabling him to await, calmly, the reports and combinations of all his divisions, instead of, perhaps, being hurried away by the only event which he himself could witness.

The Emperor farther said that he found in Rollin, and even Cæsar, circumstances of the Gallic war which he could not understand. He could not by any means comprehend the invasion of the Helvetii; the road they took; the object ascribed to them; the time they spent in crossing the Saone; the diligence of Cæsar, who found time to go into Italy, as far as Aquileia, in quest of reinforcements, and who overtook the invaders before they had passed the Saone, &c.; that it was equally difficult to comprehend what was meant by establishing winter-quarters that extended from Treves to Vannes. And as we expressed our surprise at the immense works which the generals got performed by their soldiers, the ditches, walls, great towers, galleries, &c., the Emperor observed that in those times all efforts were directed to construction on the spot, whereas in ours they were employed in conveyance. He also thought the ancient soldiers laboured, in fact, more than ours. He had thoughts of dictating something on that subject. “Ancient history, however,” said he, “embraces a long period, and the system of war often changed. In our days it was no longer that of the times of Turenne and Vauban: field-works were growing useless; even the system of our fortresses had become problematical or inefficient; the enormous quantity of bombs and howitzers changed every thing. It was no longer against the horizontal attack that defence was requisite, but also against the curve and the reflected lines. None of the ancient fortresses were henceforth safe; they ceased to be tenable; no country was rich enough to maintain them. The revenue of France would be insufficient for her lines in Flanders, for the exterior fortifications were now not above a fourth or fifth of the necessary expense. Casements, magazines, places of shelter secure from the effects of bombs, were now indispensably requisite, and these were too expensive.” The Emperor complained particularly of the weakness of modern masonry: the engineer department is radically defective in this point; it had cost him immense sums, wholly thrown away.

Struck with these novel truths, the Emperor had invented a system altogether at variance with the axioms hitherto established; it was to have metal of an extraordinary calibre, to advance beyond the principal line towards the enemy; and to have that principal line itself, on the contrary, defended by a great quantity of small moveable artillery: hence the enemy would be stopped short in his sudden advance; he would have only weak pieces to attack powerful ones with; he would be commanded by this superior calibre, round which the resources of the fortress, the small pieces, would form in groups, or even advance to a distance, as skirmishers, and might follow all the movements of the enemy by means of their lightness and mobility. The enemy would then stand in need of battering-cannon; he would be obliged to open trenches: time would be gained, and the true object of fortification accomplished. The Emperor employed this method with great success, and to the great astonishment of the engineers, in the defence of Vienna, and in that of Dresden; he intended to use it in that of Paris, which city could not, he thought, be defended by any other means; but of the success of this method he had no doubt.

DAYS AT LONGWOOD.—TRIAL OF DROUOT.—MILITARY CHARACTERS.—SOULT.—MASSENA.—THE EMPEROR’S COMRADES IN THE ARTILLERY—HIS NAME THOUGHT BY HIM TO BE UNKNOWN TO SOME PEOPLE, EVEN IN PARIS.

23rd—26th. The weather was very unfavourable during the greater part of these mornings, on account of the heavy rains, which scarcely allowed us to stir out of doors. The Emperor read a work by a Miss Williams, on the return from the Isle of Elba; it had just reached us from England. He was much disgusted with it, and with good reason: this production is quite calumnious and false; it is the echo and collection of all the reports invented at the time in certain malevolent Parisian societies.

As to our evenings, the weather was almost indifferent to us; whether it rained, or the moon shone brightly, we literally made ourselves prisoners. Towards nine o’clock we were surrounded by sentinels; to meet them would have been painful. It is true that both the Emperor and ourselves might have gone out at a later hour, accompanied by an officer; but this would have been rather a punishment than a pleasure to us, although the officer never could conceive this feeling. He gave us reason to conclude, at first, that he imagined this seclusion to be merely the effect of ill-humour, and thought it would not last long. I know not what he may subsequently have thought of our perseverance.

The Emperor, as I believe I have already mentioned, sat down to table pretty regularly at eight o’clock; he never remained there above half an hour; sometimes scarcely a quarter of an hour. When he returned to the drawing-room, if he happened to be unwell or taciturn, we had the greatest difficulty in the world to get on till half-past nine or ten o’clock; indeed, we could not effect it without the assistance of reading. But when he was cheerful, and entered into conversation with spirit, we were presently surprised to find it eleven o’clock, and later: these were our pleasant evenings. He would then retire, with a kind of satisfaction, at having, as he expressed it, conquered time. And it was precisely on those days, when the remark applied with least force, that he used to observe that it must require our utmost courage to endure such a life.

On one of these evenings, the conversation turned upon the military trials, which are now taking place in France. The Emperor thought that General Drouot could not be condemned for coming in the suite of one acknowledged sovereign to make war upon another. On this it was remarked that what was now mentioned as his justification would be his greatest danger at the tribunal of legitimacy.

The Emperor acknowledged, in fact, that there was nothing to be said to the doctrines brought forward at this day: but, on the other hand, that, in condemning General Drouot, they would condemn emigration, and legitimize the condemnation of the emigrants. Whomsoever was found in arms against France, the Republican doctrines punished with death; it was not so with the Royal doctrine. If they should in this instance adopt the Republican doctrine, the emigrant and royal party would condemn themselves.

The case of Drouot, however, in a general point of view, was very different even from that of Ney; and besides, Ney had evinced an unfortunate vacillation of which Drouot had never been guilty. Thus the interest which Ney had excited was wholly founded on opinion; whilst that which was felt for Drouot was personal.

The Emperor dilated on the dangers and difficulties which the tribunals and ministers of justice must experience, throughout the affairs connected with his return from the Isle of Elba. Above all, he was extremely struck by a particular circumstance relating to Soult, who, we were told, was to be brought to trial. He (Napoleon) knew, he said, how innocent Soult was; and yet, were it not for that circumstance, and were he an individual and juror in Soult’s case, he had no doubt he should declare him guilty, so strongly were appearances combined against him. Ney, in the course of his defence, through some sentiment which it is difficult to account for, stated, contrary to the truth, that the Emperor had said Soult was in intelligence with him. Now, every circumstance of Soult’s conduct during his administration, the confidence which the Emperor placed in him after his return, &c., agreed with that deposition: who, then, would not have condemned him? “Yet Soult is innocent,” said the Emperor, “he even acknowledged to me that he had taken a real liking to the King. The authority he enjoyed under him,” he said, “so different from that of my ministers, was a very agreeable thing, and had quite gained him over.”

Massena (whose proscription was also announced to us by the papers) was, the Emperor said, another person whom they would perhaps condemn as guilty of treason. All Marseilles was against him; appearances were overwhelming; and yet he had fulfilled his duty up to the very moment of declaring himself openly. On his return to Paris, he had even been far from claiming any credit with the Emperor, when the latter asked him whether he might have reckoned upon him. “The truth is,” continued the Emperor, "that all the commanders did their duty; but they could not withstand the torrent of opinion, and no one had sufficiently calculated the sentiments of the mass of the people and the national impetuosity. Carnot, Fouché, Maret, and Cambaceres, confessed to me, at Paris, that they had been greatly deceived on this[this] point. And no one understands it well; even now.

“Had the King remained longer in France,” continued he, “he would probably have lost his life in some insurrection; but, had he fallen into my hands, I should have thought myself strong enough to have allowed him every enjoyment in some retreat of his own selection; as Ferdinand was treated at Valency.”

Immediately before this conversation, the Emperor was playing at chess, and his king having fallen, he cried out—"Ah! my poor king, you are down!" Some one having picked it up, and restored it to him in a mutilated state—"Horrid!" he exclaimed; “I certainly do not accept the omen, and I am far from wishing any such thing: my enmity does not extend so far.”

I would not, on any account, have omitted this circumstance, trifling as it may appear, because it is in many respects characteristic. We ourselves, when the Emperor had retired, reverted to the incident. What cheerfulness, what freedom of mind in such dreadful circumstances! we said. What serenity in the heart! what absence of malice, irritation, or hatred! Who could discover in him the man whom enmity and falsehood have depicted as such a monster! Even amongst his own followers, who is there that has well understood him, or taken sufficient pains to make him known?

On another evening, the Emperor was speaking of his early years, when he was in the artillery, and of his companions at the mess: he always delighted in reverting to those days. One of his messmates was mentioned, who, having been Prefect of the same department under Napoleon and under the King, had not been able to retain his place on the return of Napoleon. The Emperor, when he recollected him, said that this person had, at a certain period, missed the opportunity of making his fortune through him. When Napoleon obtained the command of the army of the Interior, he loaded this person with favours, made him his aide-de-camp, and intended to place great confidence in him; but this favoured aide-de-camp had behaved very ill to him at the time of his departure for the Army of Italy: he then abandoned his General for the Directory. “Nevertheless,” said the Emperor, "when once I was seated on the throne, he might have done much with me, if he had known how to set about it. He had the claim of early friendship, which never loses its influence; I should certainly never have withstood an unexpected overture in a hunting-party, for instance, or half an hour’s conversation on old times at any other opportunity. I should have forgotten his conduct: it was no longer important whether he had been on my side or not: I had united all parties. Those who had an insight into my character were well aware of this: they knew that, with me, however I might have felt disposed towards them, it was like the game of prison-bars; when once the point was touched, the game was won. In fact, if I wished to withstand them, I had no resource but that of refusing to see them."

He mentioned another old comrade, who, with intelligence and the requisite qualifications, might have done any thing with him. He also said that a third would never have been removed from him, had he been less rapacious.

We disputed amongst ourselves whether these people ever suspected the secret, or their own chances; and whether the elevated station and the Imperial splendour of Napoleon, had fairly allowed them to avail themselves of his favourable disposition towards them.

With respect to the splendour of the Imperial power, the Grand Marshal said that, however great and magnificent the Emperor had appeared to him on the throne, he had never made on him a superior, perhaps an equal, impression, to that which his situation at the head of the Army of Italy had stamped on his memory. He explained and justified this idea very successfully, and the Emperor heard him with some complacency.—But, we observed, what great events took place afterwards! what elevation! what grandeur! what renown throughout the world! The Emperor had listened. “For all that,” said he, “Paris is so extensive, and contains so many people of all sorts, and some so eccentric, that I can conceive there may be some who never saw me, and others who never even heard my name mentioned. Do not you think so?” And it was curious to see with what whimsical ingenuity he himself maintained this assertion, which he knew to be untenable. We all insisted loudly that, as to his name, there was not a town or village in Europe, perhaps even in the world, where it had not been pronounced. One person in company added—"Sire, before I returned to France at the treaty of Amiens, your Majesty being then only First Consul, I determined to make a tour in Wales, as one of the most extraordinary parts of Great Britain. I climbed the wildest mountains, some of which are of prodigious height; I visited cabins that seemed to me to belong to another world. As I entered one of these secluded dwellings, I observed, to my fellow-traveller, that, in this spot, one would expect to find repose, and escape the din of revolution. The cottager, suspecting us to be French, on account of our accent, immediately enquired the news from France, and what Bonaparte, the First Consul, was about."

“Sire,” said another, "we had the curiosity to ask the Chinese officers whether our European affairs had been heard of in their Empire. ‘Certainly,’ they replied; ‘in a confused manner, to be sure, because we are totally uninterested in those matters; but the name of your Emperor is famous there, and connected with grand ideas of conquest and revolution:’ exactly as the names of those who have changed the face of that part of the world have arrived in ours, such as Gengis Khan, Tamerlane," &c.

MARSHAL BERTRAND.
Published for Henry Colburn, March, 1836.

POLITICAL EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE.—FAITHFUL STATEMENT OF THE CONDITION AND PROSPERITY OF THE EMPIRE.—LIBERAL IDEAS OF THE EMPEROR ON THE INDIFFERENCE OF PARTIES.—MARMONT.—MURAT.—BERTHIER.

27th.—This day the Emperor was walking in the garden with the Grand Marshal and me. The conversation led us to make our political self-examination.

The Emperor said that he had been very warm and sincere at the commencement of the Revolution; that he had cooled by degrees, in proportion as he acquired more just and solid ideas. His patriotism had sunk under the political absurdities and monstrous domestic excesses of our legislatures. Finally, his republican faith had vanished on the violation of the choice of the people, by the Directory, at the time of the battle of Aboukir.

The Grand Marshal said that, for his part, he had never been a republican; but a very warm constitutionalist until the 10th of August, the horrors of which day had cured him of all illusion. He had very nearly been massacred in defending the King at the Tuileries.

As for me, it was notorious that I had begun my career as a pure and most ardent royalist. “Why, then, it seems, gentlemen,” humorously observed the Emperor, “that I am the only one amongst us who has been a republican.”—"And something more, Sire," Bertrand and I both replied.—"Yes," repeated the Emperor, “republican and patriot.”—"And I have been a patriot, Sire," replied one of us, “notwithstanding my royalism; but, what is still more extraordinary, I did not become so till the period of the Imperial reign.”—"How! rogue!—are you compelled to own that you did not always love your country?"—"Sire, we are making our political self-examination, are we not? I confess my sins. When I returned to Paris, by virtue of your amnesty, could I at first look upon myself as a Frenchman, when every law, every decree, every ordinance that covered the walls, constantly added the most opprobrious epithets to my unlucky denomination of Emigrant. Nor did I think of remaining, when I first arrived. I had been attracted by curiosity, yielding to the invincible influence of one’s native land, and the desire of breathing the air of one’s country. I now possessed nothing there: in order to be allowed only to see France once more, I had been compelled, at the frontier, to swear to the relinquishment of my patrimony, to accede to the laws which decreed its loss; and I looked on myself as a mere traveller in that country once mine. I was a true foreigner, discontented and even malevolent. The empire came; it was a great event. Now," said I, “my manners, prejudices, and principles triumph; the only difference is in the person of the sovereign. When the campaign of Austerlitz opened, my heart, with surprise, found itself once more French. My situation was painful; I felt as if torn limb from limb; I was divided between blind passion and national sentiment: the triumphs of the French army and their general displeased me; yet their defeat would have humbled me. At length, the prodigies of Ulm, and the splendour of Austerlitz, put an end to my embarrassment. I was vanquished by glory.—I admired, I acknowledged, I loved Napoleon; and from that moment I became French to enthusiasm. Henceforth I have had no other thoughts, spoken no other language, felt no other sentiments; and here I am by your side.”

The Emperor then asked innumerable questions relative to the Emigrants, their numbers, and disposition. I related many curious facts respecting our princes, the Duke of Brunswick, and the King of Prussia. I made him laugh at the extravagance of our presumption, our unbounded confidence of success, the disorder of our affairs, the incapacity of our leaders. “Men,” said I, “really were not at that time what they have since been. Fortunately, those with whom we had to contend were, at first, only our equals in strength. Above all, we thought, and repeated to one another, that an immense majority of the French nation was on our side; and, for my part, I firmly believed it. I soon had, however, an opportunity of being undeceived; when our parties having arrived at Verdun, and beyond it, not a single person came to join us; on the contrary, every one fled at our approach. Nevertheless I still believed it, even after my return from England; so greatly did we deceive ourselves afterwards with the absurdities that we related to each other. We said that the government was vested in a handful of people; that it was maintained by force alone; that it was detested by the nation; and there must be some who have never ceased to think so. I am persuaded that, amongst those who now talk in that manner in the Legislative Body, there are some who speak as they think; so perfectly do I recognise the spirit, the ideas, and the expressions of Coblentz.”—“But at what period were you undeceived?” said the Emperor.—“Very late, Sire. Even when I rallied, and came to your Court, I was led much more by admiration and sentiment, than by conviction of your strength and stability. However, when I came into your Council of State, seeing the freedom with which the most decisive decrees were voted, without a single thought of the slightest resistance; seeing around me nothing but conviction and entire persuasion, it then appeared to me that your power, and the state of affairs, gained strength with a rapidity that I could not account for. By pondering on the cause of this change, I at length made a great and important discovery; namely, that matters had long stood thus, but that I had neither known, nor been willing to perceive, it; I had hid my head under the bushel, lest the light should reach my eyes. Now that I found myself forced into the midst of its brightness, I was dazzled by it. From that moment, all my prejudices fell to the ground; the film was taken from my eyes.

“Being afterwards sent by your Majesty on a mission, and having traversed more than sixty departments, I employed the most scrupulous attention and the most perfect sincerity in ascertaining the truth of which I had so long doubted. I interrogated the prefects, the inferior authorities; I caused documents and registers to be produced to me; I questioned private individuals without being known to them; I employed all possible means of trying the truth of my conclusions, and I remained fully convinced that the government was completely national, and founded in the will of the people; that France had, at no period of her history, been more powerful, more flourishing, better governed, or more happy; the roads had never been better maintained; agriculture had increased by a tenth, a ninth, perhaps an eighth in its productions.[^[4]] A restlessness, a general ardour animated all minds to exertion, and inspired them to aim at a daily personal improvement. Indigo was gained; sugar would inevitably be so. Never, at any period, had internal commerce and industry of every species, been carried to such a pitch; instead of four millions of livres in cotton, which were used at the Revolution, more than thirty millions were now manufactured, although we could obtain none by sea, and received it over-land from the distance of Constantinople. Rouen was become quite a prodigy in production. The taxes were everywhere paid; the Conscription was nationalized; France, instead of being exhausted, contained a more numerous population than before, and was daily increasing.

“When I again appeared amongst my former acquaintance with these data, there was an absolute insurrection against me. They laughed in my face, and almost hooted me. Yet there were some sensible people amongst them, and I now possessed strong grounds of argument; I staggered many, and convinced a few; thus I too have had my victories.”

The Emperor said it must be agreed that our being assembled at St. Helena from political causes was certainly a most extraordinary circumstance: that we had come to a common centre by roads originally leading in very different directions[directions]. However, we had travelled through them with sincerity. Nothing more clearly proved the sort of chance, the uncertainty, and the fatality which usually, in the labyrinth of revolutions, direct upright and honest hearts.

Nor can any thing more clearly prove, continued he, how necessary indulgence and intelligent views are to recompose society after long disorders. It was these dispositions and these principles which had made him, he said, the most fit man for the circumstances of the month of Brumaire; and it was those which still rendered him without doubt the fittest in the actual state of France. On this point he had neither mistrust, nor prejudice, nor passion; he had constantly employed men of all classes, of all parties, without ever looking back, without enquiring what they had done, what they had said, what they had thought; only requiring, he said, that they should pursue in future and with sincerity the common object—the welfare and the glory of all—that they should shew themselves true and good Frenchmen. Above all, he had never made overtures to leaders in order to gain over parties; but, on the contrary, he had attacked the mass of the parties, that he might be in a situation to despise their leaders. Such had ever been the uniform system of his internal policy; and, in spite of the last events, he was far from repenting it; if he had to begin again he should pursue the same course. “It is totally without reason,” he said, “that I have been reproached with employing nobles and emigrants—a perfectly trite and vulgar imputation! The fact is that under me there only existed individual opinions and sentiments. It is not the nobles and the emigrants who have brought about the restoration, but rather the restoration that has again raised the nobles and the emigrants. They have not contributed more particularly to our ruin than others: those really in fault are the intriguers of all parties and all opinions. Fouché was not a noble; Talleyrand was not an emigrant; Augereau and Marmont were neither. To conclude, do you desire a final proof of the injustice of blaming whole classes, when a revolution like ours has operated in the midst of them? Reckon yourselves here: among four, you find two nobles, one of whom was even an emigrant. The excellent M. de Ségur, in spite of his age, at my departure, offered to follow me. I could multiply examples without end.—It is with as little reason,” he continued, "that I have been blamed for having neglected certain persons of influence; I was too powerful not to despise with impunity the intrigues, and the known immorality, of the greater part of them. None of these causes have therefore contributed to my downfall; but only unforeseen and unheard-of catastrophes; compulsory circumstances; 500,000 men at the gates of the capital; a revolution still recent; a crisis too powerful for French heads; and, above all, a dynasty not sufficiently ancient. I should have risen again even from the foot of the Pyrenees, could I but have been my own grandson.

"And, moreover, what a fascination there is respecting past times! It is most certain that I was chosen by the French: their new worship was their own work. Well! immediately upon the return of their old forms, see with what facility they have returned to their idols.

"And, after all, how could another line of policy have prevented that which ruined me? I have been betrayed by M—— whom I might call my son, my offspring, my own work; him to whom I had committed my destinies, by sending him to Paris, at the very moment that he was putting the finishing hand to his treason and my ruin. I have been betrayed by Murat, whom I had raised from a soldier to a king; who was my sister’s husband. I have been betrayed by Berthier, a mere goose, whom I had converted into a kind of eagle. I have been betrayed in the senate, by those very men of the national party who owe every thing to me. All that, then, did not in any way depend upon my system of internal policy. Undoubtedly I should have been exposed to the charge of too readily employing old enemies, whether nobles or emigrants, if a Macdonald, a Valence,[^[5]] a Montesquiou had betrayed me; but they were faithful: let them object to me the stupidity of Murat, I can oppose to it the intelligence of Marmont. I have, then, no cause to repent of my system of internal policy."

Map
—of the—
Island of Saint Helena.
Drawn for the
Memorial de Sainte Hélène,
By an Engineer formerly of
Napoleon’s Cabinet from the information
contained in the work itself, and from
particulars furnished by
Mess^rs. Marchand, S^t Denis, Pierron,
and others in Napoleon’s service.

CHANCE OF DANGER IN BATTLE, &C.—THE BULLETINS

VERY CORRECT.

28th.—The Emperor during dinner was speaking of the probability of danger in the Chinese ships, of which one in thirty perished, according to the accounts he had received from some captains. This led him to the chances of danger in battle, which he said were less than that. Wagram was pointed out to him as a destructive battle; he did not estimate the killed at more than 3,000, which was only a fiftieth: we were there 160,000. At Essling they were about 4000, we were 40,000: this was a tenth; but it was one of the most severe battles. The others were incomparably lower.

This brought on a conversation on the bulletins. The Emperor declared them to be very correct: assured us that, excepting what the proximity of the enemy compelled him to disguise, that when they came into their hands they might not derive any information prejudicial to him from them, all the remainder was very exact. At Vienna and throughout Germany they did them more justice than among us. If they had acquired a bad character in our armies—if it was a common saying, as false as a bulletin, it was personal rivalships, party spirit, that had established it: it was the wounded self-love of those who were not mentioned in them, and who had, or fancied they had, a right to a place there: and still more than all, our ridiculous national defect of having no greater enemies to our successes and our glory than ourselves.

The Emperor after dinner played some games at chess. The day had been very rainy: he was unwell and retired early.

UNHEALTHINESS OF THE ISLAND.

26th. The weather was still bad; it was impossible to set foot out of doors. The rain and the damp invaded our pasteboard apartments. Every one of us suffered in his health in consequence. The temperature here is certainly mild, but the climate is among the most unwholesome. It is a thing ascertained in the island, that few there attain the age of fifty; hardly any that of sixty. Add to this, exclusion from the rest of the world, physical privations, bad moral treatment, and it will result that prisons in Europe are far preferable to liberty in St. Helena.

About four o’clock several Captains from China were brought to me, who were to be presented to the Emperor. They had an opportunity of seeing the smallness, the dampness, and bad state of my habitation. They enquired how the Emperor found himself in point of health. It declined visibly, I told them. Never did we hear a complaint from him: his great soul suffered nothing to overcome it, and even contributed to deceive him with respect to his own state: but we could see him decay very perceptibly. I led them shortly after to the Emperor who was walking in the garden. He seemed to me at that moment more disordered than usual. He dismissed them in half an hour. He went in again, and took a bath.

Before and after dinner he seemed in low spirits and in pain. He began to read to us Les Femmes Savantes; but at the second act he handed the book to the Grand Marshal, and dozed upon the sofa during the reading of the remainder.

REMARKS OF THE EMPEROR ON HIS EXPEDITION
IN THE EAST.

30th–31st. This day the weather has continued very bad; we all suffered from it: besides, we are absolutely eaten up with rats, fleas, and bugs: our sleep is disturbed by them, so that the troubles by night are in perfect harmony with those by day.

The weather changed entirely to fair on the 31st; we went out in the carriage. The Emperor, in the course of conversation, observed, speaking of Egypt and Syria, that if he had taken St. Jean d’Acre, as ought to have been the case, he should have wrought a revolution in the East. “The most trivial circumstances,” said he, "lead to the greatest events. The weakness of the captain of a frigate, who stood out to sea instead of forcing a passage into the harbour, some trifling impediments with respect to some sloops or light vessels, prevented the face of the world from being changed. Possessed of St. Jean d’Acre, the French army would have flown to Damascus and Aleppo; in a twinkling it would have been on the Euphrates; the Christians of Syria, the Druses, the Christians of Armenia, would have joined it: nations were on the point of being shaken." One of us having said that they would have speedily been re-inforced with 100,000 men—"Say 600,000," replied the Emperor; “who can calculate what it might have been? I should have reached Constantinople and the Indies; I should have changed the face of the world.”

SUMMARY OF THE LAST NINE MONTHS.

Nine months have already elapsed from the commencement of my Journal; and I fear that, amid the heterogeneous matters that succeed without order in it, I may have often lost sight of my principal, my only, object—that which concerns Napoleon, and may serve to characterize him. It is to make up for this, where necessary, that I here attempt a summary in a few words; a summary which I propose, moreover, on the same account, to repeat, in future, at intervals of three months.

On quitting France, we remained for a month at the disposal of the brutal and ferocious English Ministry; then our passage to St. Helena occupied three months.

On our landing we occupied Briars nearly two months.

Lastly, we have been three months at Longwood.

Now, these nine months would have formed four very distinct epochs, with one who had taken the pains to observe Napoleon.

All the time of our stay at Plymouth, Napoleon remained thoughtful, and merely passive, exerting no power but that of patience. His misfortunes were so great, and so incapable of remedy, that he suffered events to take their course with stoic indifference.

During the whole of our passage, he constantly possessed a perfect equanimity, and, above all, the most complete indifference; he expressed no wish, shewed no disappointment. It is true, the greatest respect was paid him; he received it without perceiving it; he spoke little, and the subject was always foreign to himself. Any one who, coming suddenly on board, had witnessed his conversation, would undoubtedly have been far from guessing with whom they were in company: it was not the Emperor. I cannot better picture him in this situation than by comparing him to those passengers of high distinction who are conveyed with great respect to their destination.

Our abode at Briars presented another shade of difference. Napoleon, left almost entirely to himself, receiving nobody, constantly employed, seeming to forget events and men, enjoyed, apparently, the calm and the peace of a profound solitude; either from abstraction or contempt, not condescending to notice the inconveniences or privations with which he was surrounded. If he now and then dropped an expression relative to them, it was only when roused by the importunity of some Englishman, or excited by the recital of the outrages suffered by his attendants. His whole day was occupied in dictation; the rest of the time dedicated to the relaxation of familiar conversation. He never mentioned the affairs of Europe; spoke rarely of the Empire, very little of the Consulate; but much of his situation as General in Italy; still more, and almost constantly, of the minutest details of his childhood and his early youth. The latter subjects, especially, seemed at this time to have a peculiar charm for him. One would have said that they afforded him a perfect oblivion; they excited him even to gaiety. It was almost exclusively with these objects that he employed the many hours of his nightly walks by moonlight.

Finally, our establishment at Longwood was a fourth and last change. All our situations hitherto had been but short and transitory. This was fixed, and threatened to be lasting. There, in reality, were to commence our exile and our new destinies. History will take them up there; there the eyes of the world were to be directed to consider us. The Emperor, seeming to make this calculation, regulates all about him, and takes the attitude of dignity oppressed by power; he traces around him a moral boundary, behind which he defends himself, inch by inch, against indignity and insult. He no longer gives way on any point to his persecutors; he shews himself sensibly jealous in respect to forms, and hostile to all encroachment. The English never doubted that habit would, in the end, produce formality. The Emperor brings them to it from the first day, and the most profound respect is manifested.

It was no small surprise to us, and no slight satisfaction to have to observe among ourselves, that, without knowing how or why, it was nevertheless perceptible that the Emperor now stood higher in the opinion and the respect of the English than he had hitherto done: we could even perceive that this sentiment was every day increasing. With us the Emperor resumed entirely, in his conversations, the examination of the affairs of Europe. He analyzed the projects and the conduct of the Sovereigns: he compared them with his own; weighed, decided, spoke of his reign, of his deeds; in a word, we once more found him the Emperor, and all Napoleon. Not that he had ever ceased to be so for an instant, as regarded our devotion and our attentions; neither had we, on our side, had any thing to endure from him in any respect.

Never did we experience a more even temper, a more constant kindness, a more unaltered affection. It was, in fact, among us, as in the midst of his family, that he concerted his attacks upon the common enemy; and those which appear the most vigorous, and seem to be dictated by anger, were, however, almost always accompanied with some laughter or pleasantry.

The Emperor’s health, during the six months preceding our establishment at Longwood, did not seem to undergo any change; though his regimen was so completely altered. His hours, his food, were no longer the same; his habits were completely deranged. He who had been accustomed to so much exercise had been confined all this time to a room. Bathing had become part of his existence, and he was constantly deprived of it. It was not till after his arrival at Longwood, and when he was again supplied with some of these things, when he rode on horseback, and returned to the use of the bath, that we began to perceive a sensible alteration.

It is a singular circumstance that, so long as he was uncomfortably situated he suffered nothing; it was not till he was better off that he was seen to be in pain. May it not be that, in the moral as in the physical system, there is often a long interval between causes and their effects?

DESCRIPTION OF THE EMPEROR’S APARTMENTS.—MINUTE DETAILS OF HIS TOILET AND DRESS.—ABSURD REPORTS RESPECTING HIM.—CONSPIRACIES OF GEORGES AND CERACHI.—ATTEMPT OF THE FANATIC OF SCHÖNBRUNN.

April 1st—2nd. All that is in any way connected with the Emperor Napoleon must be worthy of observation, and will be held valuable by thousands. With this conviction, I shall proceed minutely to describe his apartment, its furniture, the details of his toilet, &c. And, in course of time, may not his son one day take pleasure in re-producing these details, picturing to himself the appearance of distant objects, and seizing fleeting shadows, which to him will perhaps supply the place of reality?

The Emperor’s own apartments consist of two chambers A and B,[^[6]] each 45 feet long and 42 broad, and about 7 feet high. A very indifferent carpet covers the floor, and pieces of nankin, instead of paper, line the walls of both rooms.

The bed-chamber A contains the little camp-bed a, in which the Emperor sleeps, and the couch b, on which he reclines the greater part of the day. This couch is covered with books, which seem to dispute with the Emperor the right of possession to it. Beside this couch stands a small table c, on which the Emperor breakfasts and dines, when he takes his meals in his own chamber, and which, in the evening, bears a candlestick with three branches, surmounted by a large ornament. Between the two windows, and opposite to the door, stands a chest of drawers d, containing the Emperor’s linen, and on the top of which is his large dressing-case.

Over the fire-place e, hangs a very small glass, together with several pictures. On the right is a portrait of the King of Rome sitting on a sheep, by Aimée Thiebault—and on the left hangs, as a pendant to it, another portrait of the young Prince, sitting on a cushion and putting on a slipper. This picture is also the production of Thiebault. Lower down is a small marble bust of the King of Rome. Two candlesticks, two scent-bottles, and two cups of silver gilt, taken from the Emperor’s cabinet, complete the arrangement and decoration of the chimney-piece. Lastly, at the foot of the couch, and directly in view of the Emperor when he reposes on it, which he does the greater part of the day, hangs Isabey’s portrait of Maria Louisa, holding her son in her arms. This wretched little closet has thus become a family sanctuary. I must not omit to mention Frederick the Great’s large silver watch, which is a sort of alarum. It was taken at Potsdam and it hangs on the left of the chimney-piece, beyond the portraits. The Emperor’s own watch, which hangs on the right of the chimney, is the same that he used in the Campaigns of Italy; it is enclosed in a gold case, marked with his cipher B:[^[7]] These are the contents of the first chamber.

In the second room B, which serves as a sort of study, along the walls next the windows are several rough boards, supported by trestles, on which are scattered a great number of books, and the manuscripts that have been written from the Emperor’s dictation. Between the two windows is a book-case g; and on the opposite side stands another camp-bedstead h, similar to the one already mentioned. On this bed the Emperor sometimes reposes in the day-time; and he occasionally lies down on it, when he rises from the other bed during his frequent sleepless nights, or when fatigued with dictating, or walking about alone in his chamber. Lastly, in the middle of the room stands the writing-table i, with marks indicating the places usually occupied by the Emperor and each of us during his dictations.

The Emperor dresses in his bed-room. When he takes off his clothes, which he does without assistance, he throws them all upon the floor if one of his valets happens not to be at hand to take them from him. How many times have I stooped to pick up the cordon of the Legion of Honour, when I have seen it thrown carelessly on the ground!

Shaving, which is almost the last business of the Emperor’s toilet, is not commenced until he has put on his stockings, shoes, &c. He shaves himself: first taking off his shirt, and retaining only his flannel waistcoat, which he had laid aside during the excessive heat we experienced in crossing the Line, but which he was obliged to resume at Longwood, in consequence of a severe attack of the cholic; from this, however, the use of his flannel waistcoat speedily relieved him.

The Emperor shaves in the recess of the window nearest to the fire-place. His first valet de chambre hands him the soap and razor: and the second holds before him the looking-glass of his dressing-case, so that the Emperor may turn to the light the side that he is shaving. It is the business of the second valet de chambre to tell him whether or not he shaves clean. Having shaved one side, he turns completely round to shave the other, and the valets change sides.

The Emperor then washes his face, and very frequently his head, in a large silver basin f, which is fixed in a corner of the room, and which was brought from the Elysée. The Emperor is very lusty; his skin is white, with but few hairs; and he has a certain plumpness which is unusual in the male sex, and to which he sometimes jokingly alludes. He rubs his chest and arms with a tolerably hard brush. He afterwards gives the brush to his valet de chambre, who rubs his back and shoulders, and when in good humour he often says, “Come, brush hard—as hard as if you were scrubbing an ass.”

He used almost to drown himself in eau de Cologne, at least, so long as he had any at his disposal: but his store of this article was speedily exhausted, and as none could be procured on the island, he was reduced to the necessity of using lavender water; the want of eau de Cologne he felt as a severe privation.

After he has had his back rubbed, or after he has finished shaving each side of his beard, he sometimes good-humouredly looks his valet in the face for a few seconds, and then gives him a smart box on the ear, accompanied by some jocular expressions. This has been construed by libelists and pamphleteers into the habit of cruelly beating those who were about him. We all in our turns occasionally received a pinch or a box on the ear; but from the expressions which always accompanied the action, we thought ourselves very happy in receiving such favours during the period of his power.

This calls to my recollection, and explains to me certain observations which I once heard from the Duke Decrès, one of the Emperor’s ministers. The Duke, when in the height of his glory and power, wished to obtain a certain favour from the Emperor. He was conversing with me on the subject, and after adverting to all his chances of success, he said: “I shall have it after all, the first time I get roughly treated.” And, remarking that my countenance expressed surprise, he added with a significant smile: "But, my dear fellow, after all ’tis not so terrible a thing as you imagine; many would be happy to receive such usage, I assure you." ...

The Emperor does not leave his chamber until he is completely dressed. He wears shoes in the morning, and does not put on his boots until he rides out on horseback. When he first came to Longwood, he laid aside his green uniform of the Guard, and wore a hunting coat the lace of which had been taken off. This coat soon began to look shabby, and his attendants were at a loss what to substitute for it. This, however, was not the only inconvenience of the kind to which he was exposed. For instance, we were much distressed to see him reduced to the necessity of wearing one pair of silk stockings for several days in succession; but he laughed whenever we expressed our regret on this subject, or remarked that it was easy to count the number of days the stockings had been worn, by the marks which the shoes had left on them. In other respects he retained his usual dress; namely, waistcoat and small clothes of white kerseymere, and a black cravat. When he was going out, any one of the gentlemen who happened to be in the room handed to him his hat; that little hat which has in some measure become identified with his person. Several of the Emperor’s hats have been carried off since we have been on the island; for every individual who approaches him is anxious to obtain some token of remembrance of him. How often have we been tormented even by persons of distinguished rank, to procure for them even a button of his coat or any other trifle belonging to him.

I was almost always present at the Emperor’s toilet: sometimes I remained after having finished my writing, and sometimes the Emperor desired me to come and chat with him. One day I was looking steadfastly at him as he put on his flannel waistcoat. My countenance I suppose expressed something particular, for he said in his good humoured way of addressing me: “Well, what does your Excellency smile at? What are you thinking of at this moment.”—"Sire, in a pamphlet which I lately read, I found it stated that your Majesty was shielded by a coat of mail for the security of your person. A report of the same kind was circulated among certain classes in Paris; and in support of the assertion, allusion was made to your Majesty’s sudden embonpoint, which was said to be quite unnatural. I was just now thinking that I could bear positive evidence to the contrary, and that at St. Helena, at least, all precautions for personal safety have been laid aside."—"This is one of the thousand absurdities that have been published respecting me," said he. "But the story you have just mentioned is the more ridiculous, since every person about me well knows how careless I am in regard to self-preservation. Accustomed from the age of eighteen to be exposed to cannon-balls, and knowing the inutility of precautions, I abandoned myself to my fate. When I came to the head of affairs, I might still have fancied myself surrounded by the danger of the field of battle: and I might have regarded the conspiracies that were formed against me as so many bomb-shells. But I followed my old course; I trusted to my lucky star; and left all precautions to the police. I was perhaps the only sovereign in Europe who dispensed with a body guard. Every one could freely approach me without having, as it were, to pass through military barracks; the sentinels at the outer gates being passed, all had free access to every part of my palace. Maria Louisa was much astonished to see me so poorly guarded; and she often remarked that her father was surrounded by bayonets. For my part, I had no better defence at the Tuileries than I have here: I don’t even know where to find my sword; do you see it?" said he, looking about for it.... “I have, to be sure,” he continued, "incurred great dangers. Upwards of thirty plots were formed against me: these have been proved by authentic testimony, without mentioning many that never came to light. Some sovereigns invent conspiracies against themselves; for my part, I made it a rule carefully to conceal them whenever I could. The crisis most serious to me was during the interval between the battle of Marengo and the attempt of Georges, and the affair of the Duke d’Enghien."

Napoleon related that about a week before the arrest of Georges, a petition had been delivered into his own hands, on the parade, by one of the most determined of the conspirators. Others insinuated themselves among the household at St. Cloud or Malmaison; finally Georges himself seems to have been so near his person as to have been in the same apartment with him.

Independently of good luck, the Emperor attributes his safety, in a great measure, to certain circumstances which were peculiar to himself. That which had doubtless, he said, contributed to preserve him was his having lived after his own fancy; without any regular habits or fixed plan. His close occupations kept him much at home, and almost constantly confined him to his closet. He never dined abroad, seldom visited the theatres, and never appeared but at those times and places at which he was not expected.

As we were descending to the garden after the Emperor had finished dressing, he observed to me that the two designs on his life which had placed him in the most imminent danger were those of Cerachi the sculptor, and the fanatic of Schönbrunn. Cerachi, and some other desperate wretches, had laid a plan for assassinating the First Consul. They agreed to carry their design into execution at the moment of his withdrawing from his box at the theatre. Napoleon, who received intimation of the plot nevertheless proceeded to the theatre, and fearlessly passed by the conspirators, who had shown themselves most eager to occupy their respective stations. They were not arrested until about the middle or near the close of the performance.

Cerachi, said the Emperor, had formerly adored the First Consul; but he vowed to sacrifice him, when, as he pretended, he proved himself a tyrant. This artist had been loaded with favours by General Bonaparte, whose bust he had executed; and, when he entered into the plot against his benefactor, he endeavoured by every possible means to procure another sitting, under pretence of making an essential improvement on the bust. Fortunately, at that time, the Consul had not a single moment’s leisure, and, thinking that want was the real cause of the urgent solicitations of the sculptor, he sent him six thousand francs. But how was he mistaken! Cerachi’s real motive was to stab him during the sitting.

The conspiracy was disclosed by a captain of the line, who was himself an accomplice. “This,” said Napoleon, “was a proof of the strange modifications of which the human mind is susceptible, and shows to what lengths the combinations of folly and stupidity may be carried! This officer regarded me with horror as First Consul, though he had adored me as a General. He wished to see me driven from my post, but he rejected the idea of any attempt upon my life. He wished that I should be secured, but would not have me injured in any way; and he proposed that I should be sent back to the army to face the enemy and defend the glory of France. The rest of the conspirators laughed at these notions; but, when he found that they were distributing poniards and going far beyond his intentions, he then came and disclosed the whole to the Consul.”

As we were discoursing on this subject, some one present mentioned having witnessed at the Theatre Feydeau, a circumstance which threw a part of the audience into the greatest consternation. The Emperor entered the Empress Josephine’s box, and had scarcely taken his seat, when a young man hastily jumped upon the bench immediately below the Box, and placed his hand on the Emperor’s breast. The spectators on the opposite side were filled with alarm. Fortunately, however, the young man was merely presenting a petition, which the Emperor received and read with the utmost coolness.

The Emperor described the Fanatic of Schönbrunn, as the son of a protestant minister of Erfurt, who, about the time of the battle of Wagram, had laid a plan for the assassination of Napoleon, with all due parade. He had passed the sentinels at some distance from the Emperor, and had twice or thrice been driven back, when General Rapp, in the act of pushing him aside with his hand, felt something concealed under his coat. This proved to be a knife about a foot and a half long, pointed, and sharp at both edges. “I shuddered to look at it,” said the Emperor; “it was merely rolled up in a piece of newspaper.”

Napoleon ordered the assassin to be brought into his closet. He called Corvisart, and directed him to feel the criminal’s pulse while he spoke to him. The assassin stood unmoved, confessing his intended crime, and frequently making quotations from the Bible. “What was your purpose here?” enquired the Emperor. “To kill you.” “What have I done to offend you? By whose authority do you constitute yourself my Judge?”—"I wish to put an end to the war." “And why not address yourself to the Emperor Francis?” “To him!” said the assassin, “and wherefore? he is a mere cipher. And besides, if he were dead, another would succeed him; but, when you are gone, the French will immediately retire from Germany.” The Emperor vainly endeavoured to move him. “Do you repent?” said he. “No.” “Would you again attempt the perpetration of your intended crime?” “Yes.” “What, if I were to pardon you?” Here, said the Emperor, nature for an instant resumed her sway; the man’s countenance and voice underwent a momentary change. “Even though you do,” said he, “God will not forgive me.” But he immediately resumed his ferocious expression. He was kept in solitary confinement and without food for four-and-twenty hours. The Doctor examined him once more. He was again questioned, but all was unavailing; he still remained the same man, or, to speak more properly, the same ferocious brute. He was at length abandoned to his fate.

MEASURES THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN ADOPTED AFTER
THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO.

3rd.—In the morning the Emperor dictated in the shady part of the garden. The day was delightfully clear and serene. He had been reading the account of Alexander’s expedition in Rollin’s History; and had several maps spread out before him. He complained that the narrative was destitute of taste, and without any proper plan. He observed that it afforded no just idea of the grand views of Alexander; and he expressed a wish himself to write an account of the expedition.

About five o’clock, I joined him in the garden, where he was walking, attended by all the gentlemen. As soon as he perceived me, he said: “Come, we must have your opinion on a point which we have been discussing for the last hour. On my return from Waterloo, do you think I could have dismissed the Legislative Body, and have saved France without it?”—"No," I replied, “it would not have been dissolved voluntarily. You would have found it necessary to employ force; which would have excited protestations, and would have been regarded as scandalous. The dissatisfaction excited in the Legislative Body would have spread through the whole nation. Meanwhile the enemy would have arrived; and your Majesty must have succumbed, accused by all Europe, accused by foreigners, and even by Frenchmen; perhaps loaded with universal maledictions, regarded merely as an adventurer carrying every thing by violence. But as it was, your Majesty issued pure and unsullied from the conflict, and your memory will be everlastingly cherished in the hearts of those who respect the cause of the people. Your Majesty has, by your moderation, ensured to yourself the brightest character in history, while, by a different line of conduct, you might have incurred the risk of reprobation. You have lost your power, it is true; but you have attained the summit of your glory.”

“Well, this is partly my own opinion,” said the Emperor. "But after all, am I certain that the French people will do me justice? Will they not accuse me of having abandoned them? History will decide! Instead of dreading, I invoke, its decree!—I have often asked myself whether I have done for the French people all that they could expect of me; for that people did much for me. Will they ever know all that I suffered during the night that preceded my final decision?

"In that night of anguish and uncertainty, I had to choose between two great courses: the one was to endeavour to save France by violence; and the other was to yield to the general impulse. The measure which I pursued was, I think, most advisable. Friends and enemies, the good and the evil disposed, all were against me, and I stood alone. I could not but yield, and my decision being once adopted, could not be revoked. I am not one who takes half measures; and, besides, sovereignty is not to be thrown off and on like one’s cloak. The other course demanded extraordinary severity. It would have been necessary to arraign great criminals and to decree great punishments. Blood must have been shed; and then who can tell where we should have stopped! What scenes of horror might not have been renewed! By pursuing this line of conduct, should I not have drowned my memory in the deluge of blood, crimes, and abominations of every kind, with which libellers have already overwhelmed me? Should I not thereby have seemed to justify all that they have been pleased to invent? Posterity and History would have viewed me as a second Nero or Tiberius. If, after all, I could have saved France at such a price!... I had energy sufficient to carry me through every difficulty!... But, is it certain that I should have succeeded? All our dangers did not come from without; the worst existed in our internal discord. Did not a party of mad fools dispute about shades, before they had ensured the triumph of the colour? How would it have been possible to persuade them that I was not labouring for myself alone, for my own personal advantage? How could I convince them of my disinterestedness, or prove that all my efforts were directed to save the country? To whom could I point out the dangers and miseries from which I sought to rescue the French people? They were evident to me, but the vulgar mass will ever remain in ignorance of them until they are crushed beneath their weight.

“What answer could be given to those who exclaimed: Behold the despot, the tyrant! again violating the oaths which he took but yesterday! and who knows whether amidst this tumult, this inextricable complication of difficulties, I might not have perished by the hand of a Frenchman, in the civil conflict! Then how would France have appeared in the eyes of the universe, in the estimation of future generations? The glory of France is to identify herself with me. I could not have achieved so many great deeds for her honour and glory without the nation, and in spite of the nation. France was inclined to elevate me to too high a point!... As I said before, History will decide!...”

He then adverted to the plan and details of the Campaign, dwelling with pleasure on its glorious commencement, and with regret on the terrible disaster that marked its close.

“Still,” continued he, "I should have considered the state of affairs as by no means desperate, had I obtained the aid I expected. All our resources rested in the Chambers. I hastened to convince them of this; but they immediately rose against me, under pretence that I was come to dissolve them. What an absurdity! From that moment all was lost.[^[8]]

“It would perhaps be unjust,” added the Emperor, "to accuse the majority of the Members of the Chambers; but such is the nature of all numerous bodies that they must perish, if disunited. Like armies, they must have leaders. The chiefs of armies are appointed; but, in constituted bodies, men of eminent talent and genius rise up and rule them. We wanted all this, and, therefore[therefore], in spite of the good spirit which might have animated the majority, all were, in an instant, plunged into confusion and tumult[tumult]. The Legislative Body had perfidy and corruption stationed at its doors, while incapacity, disorder, and perversity prevailed in its bosom; and thus France became the prey of foreigners.

"For a moment, I entertained the idea of resistance. I was on the point of declaring myself permanently at the Tuileries, along with my Ministers and Councillors of State. I had thoughts of rallying round me the six thousand guards who were in Paris, augmenting them with the best disposed portion of the National Guard, who were very numerous, and the federate troops of the Faubourgs; of adjourning the Legislative Body to Tours or Blois; re-organizing before the walls of Paris, the wrecks of the army, and thus exerting my efforts singly, as a Dictator, for the welfare of the country. But would the Legislative Body have obeyed? I might have enforced obedience, it is true; but this would have been a new cause of scandal, and a fresh source of difficulties. Would the people have made common cause with me? Would even the army have continued constantly faithful to me? In the succession of events, might not both the people and the army have been separated from me? Might not plans have been arranged to my prejudice? The idea that so many dangers were caused by me alone might have served as a plausible pretext, and the facilities which every one had experienced during the preceding year in gaining favour with the Bourbons, might to many have become decisive inducements.

“Yes,” continued the Emperor, "I hesitated long, I weighed every argument on both sides; and I at length concluded that I could not make head against the coalition without and the royalists within: that I should be unable to oppose the numerous sects which would have been created by the violence committed on the Legislative Body, to control that portion of the multitude which must be driven by force, or to resist that moral condemnation which imputes to him who is unfortunate every evil that ensues. Abdication was therefore absolutely the only step I could adopt. All was lost in spite of me. I foresaw and foretold this: but still I had no other alternative.

“The Allies always pursued the same system against me. They began it at Prague, continued it at Frankfort, at Chatillon, at Paris, and at Fontainbleau. Their conduct displayed considerable judgment. The French might have been duped in 1814; but it is difficult to conceive how they could have been deceived in 1815. History will for ever tarnish the memory of those who suffered themselves to be misled. I foretold their fate when I was departing to join the army: Let us not resemble, I said, the Greeks of the Lower Empire, who amused themselves in debating while the battering-ram was levelling the walls of their city. And, when forced to abdicate, I said, Our enemies wish to separate me from the army; when they shall have succeeded, they will separate the army from you. You will then be merely a wretched flock, the prey of wild beasts.”

We asked the Emperor whether he thought that, with the concurrence of the Legislative Body, he could have saved France? He replied, without hesitation, that he would confidently have undertaken to do so, and that he would have answered for his success.

“In less than a fortnight,” continued he, "that is to say, before any considerable mass of the allied force could have assembled before Paris, I should have completed my fortifications, and have collected before the walls of the city, and out of the wrecks of the army, upwards of eighty thousand good troops, and three hundred pieces of horse artillery. After a few days’ firing, the national guard, the federal troops, and the inhabitants of Paris, would have sufficed to defend the entrenchments. I should have had eighty thousand disposable troops at my command. It is well known how advantageously I was capable of employing this force.—The achievements of 1814 were still fresh in remembrance. Champaubert, Montmirail, Craon, Montereau, were still present in the imagination of our enemies; the same scenes would have revived the recollection of the prodigies of the preceding year. I was then surnamed the hundred thousand men.

"The rapidity and decision of our successes gave rise to this name. The conduct of the French troops was most admirable. Never did a handful of brave men accomplish so many miracles. If their high achievements have never been publicly known, owing to the circumstances which attended our disasters, they have at least been duly appreciated by our enemies, who counted the number of our attacks by our victories. We were truly the heroes of fable!

“Paris,” said he, "would in a few days have become impregnable. The appeal to the nation, the magnitude of the danger, the excitement of the public mind, the grandeur of the spectacle, would have drawn multitudes to the capital. I could undoubtedly have assembled upwards of four hundred thousand men, and I imagine the allied force did not exceed five hundred thousand. Thus the affair would have been brought to a single combat, in which the enemy would have had as much to fear as ourselves. He would have hesitated, and thus I should have regained the confidence of the majority.

“Meanwhile I should have surrounded myself with a national senate or junta selected from among the members of the Legislative Body—men distinguished by national names, and worthy of general confidence. I should have fortified my military Dictatorship with all the strength of civil opinion. I should have had my tribune, which would have promulgated the talisman of my principles through Europe. The Sovereigns would have trembled to behold the contagion spread among their subjects. They must have treated with me, or have surrendered....”

“But, Sire,” we exclaimed, “why did you not attempt what would infallibly have succeeded?—Why are we here?”

“Now,” resumed the Emperor, “you are blaming and condemning me! But, if you were to take a view of the contrary chances, you would change your tone. Besides, you forget that we reasoned on the hypothesis that the Legislative Body would have joined me; but you know what line of conduct it pursued. I might have dissolved it, to be sure. France and Europe perhaps blame me, and posterity will doubtless censure my weakness, in not breaking up the Legislative Body after its insurrection. It will be said, that I ought not to have separated myself from the destinies of a people who had done all for me. But by dissolving the Assembly, I could at most have obtained only a capitulation from the enemy. In that case, I again repeat, blood must have been shed, and I must have proved myself a tyrant. I had however arranged a plan on the night of the 20th, and on the 21st measures of the most rigid severity were to have been adopted; but before the return of day, the dictates of humanity and prudence warned me that such a course was not to be thought of, that I should miss my aim, and that every one was merely seeking blindly to accommodate himself to circumstances. But I must not begin again. I have already said too much on a subject which always revives painful recollections. I repeat once more that History will decide.”—The Emperor returned to his chamber desiring me to follow him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

4th. At 5 o’clock I went to meet the Emperor in the garden. He had taken too warm a bath, and in consequence found himself ill. We rode out in the calash, the weather was delightful: for several days it had been very warm and dry. Before dinner the Emperor dictated to the Grand Marshal. Madame Bertrand dined at the Admiral’s. The Emperor withdrew to his chamber immediately after dinner.

CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS.

5th—8th. During these four days, the Emperor invariably rode out on horseback about six or seven in the morning, accompanied only by me and my son.

I am enabled to affirm that I never saw Napoleon swayed either by passion or prejudice, that is to say, I never knew him to pronounce a judgment on men and things that was not dictated by reason. Even when he displays what perhaps may be called anger, it is merely the effect of transitory feeling, and never influences his actions; but I can truly say that, during the eighteen years in which I have had the opportunity of observing his character, I never knew him to act in contradiction to reason.

Another fact which has come to my knowledge, and which I note down here because it recurs to my memory at this moment, is that, either from nature, calculation, or the habit of preserving dignity, he for the most part represses and conceals the painful sensations which he experiences, and still more, perhaps, the kind emotions of his heart. I have frequently observed him repressing feelings of sensibility, as if he thought that they compromised his character. Of this I shall hereafter adduce proofs. Meanwhile, the following characteristic trait so perfectly corresponds with the object of this journal, namely, that of showing the man as he really is, and seizing nature in the fact, that I cannot refrain from mentioning it.

For some days past, Napoleon seemed to have something deeply at heart. A domestic circumstance which had occurred vexed and ruffled him exceedingly. During the last three days, in our rides about the park, he several times alluded to this circumstance with considerable warmth, desiring me to keep close by his side, and ordering my son to ride on before. On one of these occasions the following observation escaped him:—"I know I am fallen. But to feel this among you!"... These words, the gesture, the tone that accompanied them, pierced my very heart. I was ready to throw myself at his feet, and embrace his knees. “I know,” continued he, “that man is frequently unreasonable and susceptible. Thus, when I am mistrustful of myself, I asked, should I have been treated so at the Tuileries? This is my sure test.”

He then spoke of himself, of us, of our reciprocal relations, of our situation in the island, and the influence which our individual circumstances might enable us to exercise. His reflections on these subjects were numerous, powerful, and just. In the emotion with which this conversation inspired me, I exclaimed: “Sire, permit me to take this affair upon myself. It certainly never could have been viewed in this light. If the matter were explained, I am sure it would excite deep sorrow and repentance! I only ask permission to say a single word.” The Emperor replied with dignity:—"No, sir; I forbid it. I have opened my heart to you. Nature has had her course. I shall forget it; and you must seem never to have known it."

On our return, we breakfasted all together in the garden, and the Emperor was more than usually cheerful. In the evening he dined in his own apartment.

POLITICS.—THE STATE OF EUROPE.—IRRESISTIBLE
ASCENDANCY OF LIBERAL OPINIONS.

9th-10th. On the 9th a ship arrived from England, bringing papers to the 21st of January. The Emperor continued his morning rides on horseback, and passed the rest of the day in examining the newspapers in his own chamber. The contents of these late papers were not less interesting than those which we had already examined. The agitation in France continued to increase; the King of Prussia had issued proclamations respecting secret societies; a misunderstanding had arisen between Austria and Bavaria; in England the persecution of the French Protestants, and the violence of the party which was gaining the ascendancy, agitated the public mind, and gave arms to the Opposition. Europe never presented a more violent fermentation.

On perusing the account of the deluge of evils and sanguinary events which overwhelmed all the French departments, the Emperor rose from his couch, and, stamping his foot violently on the ground, he exclaimed! “How unfortunate was I in not proceeding to America! From the other hemisphere I might have protected France against re-action! The dread of my re-appearance would have been a check on their violence and folly. My name would have sufficed to bridle their excesses, and to fill them with terror.”

Then, continuing the same subject, he said with a degree of warmth, bordering on inspiration, "the counter-revolution, even had it been suffered to proceed, must inevitably have been lost in the grand revolution. The atmosphere of modern ideas is sufficient to stifle the old feudalists; for henceforth nothing can destroy or efface the grand principles of our revolution. Those great and excellent truths can never cease to exist, so completely are they blended with our fame, our monuments, and our prodigies. We have washed away their first stains in the flood of glory, and they will henceforth be immortal. Created in the French tribune, cemented with the blood of battles, adorned with the laurels of victory, saluted with the acclamations of the people, sanctioned by the treaties and alliances of Sovereigns, and having become familiar to the ears as well as in the mouths of Kings, these principles can never again retrograde!

“Liberal ideas flourish in Great Britain, they enlighten America, and they are nationalized in France; and this may be called the tripod whence issues the light of the world! Liberal opinions will rule the universe. They will become the faith, the religion, the morality of all nations; and, in spite of all that may be advanced to the contrary, this memorable era will be inseparably connected with my name; for, after all, it cannot be denied that I kindled the torch and consecrated the principles; and now persecution renders me quite their Messiah. Friends and foes, all must acknowledge me to be their first soldier, their grand representative. Thus even when I shall be no more, I shall still continue to be the leading star of the nations....”[nations....”]

THE EMPEROR’S OPINION OF SEVERAL CELEBRATED MEN.—POZZO DI BORGO—METTERNICH—BASSANO—CLARKE—CAMBACÉRÈS—LEBRUN—FOUCHÉ, &C.

11th—12th. The Emperor took advantage of every fine morning to ride on horseback. He breakfasted in the garden; and the conversation was afterwards maintained with great freedom and interest on the events of his own private life, on public affairs, on the individuals who surrounded his person, and those who have played a conspicuous part in the other Courts of Europe.

The English lessons were no longer thought of; they were continued only in our rides or walks during the day time. What the Emperor thus lost in grammatical accuracy he gained in facility of expression.

About five o’clock on the 11th, we took our usual airing in the calash. In the evening we resumed our ministerial anecdotes and conversations on celebrated persons. Napoleon gave us the history of M. Pozzo di Borgo, his countryman, who had been a Member of the Legislative Body. It was he, it is said, who advised the Emperor Alexander to march upon Paris, even though Napoleon should have attacked his rear. “And thus,” said the Emperor, “he[“he] decided the fate of France, of European civilization, and the destinies of the whole world. He had acquired great influence in the Russian Cabinet."

He also gave us the history of M. Capo d’Istria. He then spoke of M. de Metternich.

The Emperor next spoke of his own Ministers; of Bassano, whom he believed to have been sincerely attached to him; Clarke, to whose character Time, he said, would do ample justice; C.... whom late events had shewn to have been worth but little. The Emperor had successively appointed him Ambassador to Vienna, Minister of the interior, and Minister for foreign affairs. Talleyrand, observed the Emperor, described his character in a word, when he said of him, with his usual point and ill-natured spirit, that he was a man who could make himself fit for any place on the day before his appointment to it.

The conversation next turned on M. Cambacérès, whom Napoleon called the man of abuses; observing that he had a decided inclination for the old regime. Lebrun, on the contrary, had a predilection to the opposite extreme. He, said the Emperor, was the man of idealisms. These two men, he observed, were the counterpoises between which the First Consul had placed himself, and he in his turn was humourously called the consolidated third.

Messrs. de T.... and Fouché were next spoken of. After saying a great deal respecting both, the Emperor proceeded to make some energetic remarks on the morality of individuals connected with the ministry in France, and generally of all functionaries or men in office; on their want of political faith, or national feeling, which led them to serve indifferently one person to-day, and another to-morrow. “This levity, this inconsistency,” said he, “has descended to us from antiquity. We still remain Gauls, and our character will never be complete, until we learn to substitute principles for turbulence, pride for vanity, and, above all, the love of institutions for the love of place.”

The Emperor concluded that, at the close of our late events, the Monarchs of Europe must necessarily have retained a retrospective feeling of scorn and contempt for the great people who had thus sported with Sovereignty. “But,” said he, “the excuse may perhaps be found in the nature of things, and in the power of circumstances. Democracy raises up Sovereignty, aristocracy preserves it. Mine had neither taken a root deep enough, nor acquired sufficient spirit. At the moment of the crisis it was still connected with democracy; and it mingled with the multitude instead of becoming the sheet-anchor to secure the people from the fury of the tempest, and to guide them in their blindness.”

The following are some fresh particulars respecting M. de T—— and M. Fouché, whose names have so frequently been mentioned. I endeavour as much as possible to avoid repetitions.

“M. de T——” said the Emperor, “waited two days and nights at Vienna for full powers to treat for peace in my name; but I should have been ashamed to have thus prostituted my policy; and yet, perhaps, my conduct in this instance has purchased my exile to St. Helena; for I cannot but allow that T—— is a man of singular talent, and capable at all times of throwing great weight into the scale.

“T——” continued he, “was always in a state treason; but it was in partnership with fortune. His circumspection was extreme; he treated his friends as if they might in future become his enemies; and he behaved to his enemies as if they might some time or other become his friends. M. de T—— had always been, in my opinion, hostile to the Faubourg St. Germain. In the affair of the divorce, he was for the Empress Josephine. It was he who urged the war with Spain, though in public he had the art to appear averse to it.” Thus it was from a kind of spite that Napoleon made choice of Valencey as the residence of Ferdinand. “In short,” said the Emperor, “T—— was the principal instrument and the active cause of the death of the Duke d’Enghien.”

Ch. Maurice de Talleyrand
Engraved by Thomson, from the Original Painting by F. Gérard

Napoleon observed that a celebrated actress (Mademoiselle Raucourt) had described him with great truth. “If you ask him a question,” said she, “he is an iron chest, whence you cannot extract a syllable; but if you ask him nothing, you will soon be unable to stop his mouth—he will become a regular gossip.”

This was a foible which, at the outset, destroyed the confidence of the Emperor, and made him waver in his opinion of T——. “I had entrusted him,” said Napoleon, "with a very important affair, and, a few hours afterwards, Josephine related it to me word for word. I instantly sent for the Minister, to inform him that I had just learned from the Empress a circumstance which I had told in confidence to himself alone. The story had already passed through four or five intermediate channels.

"T——’s countenance," added the Emperor, “is so immoveable that nothing can ever be read in it. Lannes and Murat used jokingly to say of him that if, while he was speaking to you, some one should come behind him and give him a kick, his countenance would betray no indication of the affront.”

M. de T—— is mild and even endearing in his domestic habits. His servants, and the persons in his employment, are attached and devoted to him. Among his intimate friends he willingly and good-humouredly speaks of his ecclesiastical profession. He one day expressed his dislike of a tune which was hummed in his hearing. He said he had a great horror of it; it reminded him of the time when he was obliged to practise church-music, and to sing at the desk. On another occasion, one of his intimate friends was telling a story during supper, while M. de T—— was engaged in thought, and seemed inattentive to the conversation. In the course of the story, the speaker happened to say in a lively manner of some one whom he had named, “That fellow is a comical rogue; he is a married priest.” T——, roused by these words, seized a spoon, plunged it hastily into the dish before him, and with a threatening aspect called out to him, “Mr. Such-a-one, will you have some spinach?” The person who was telling the story was confounded, and all the party burst into a fit of laughter, M. de T—— as well as the rest.

The Emperor, at the time of the Concordat, wished to have made M. de T.... a Cardinal, and to have placed him at the head of ecclesiastical affairs. He told him that his proper destiny was to return to the bosom of the Church, to refresh his memory, and to stop the mouths of the declaimers. T——, however, would never agree to this; his aversion to the ecclesiastical profession was insurmountable.

Napoleon was very near appointing him Ambassador to Warsaw, a dignity which he subsequently conferred on the Abbé de Pradt; but his dirty stock-jobbing tricks, as the Emperor called them, occasioned this intention to be abandoned. The Emperor was induced by the same reasons, and at the instance of several sovereigns of Germany, to deprive him of the portfolio of Foreign Affairs.

The Emperor remarked that Fouché was the T—— of the clubs, and that T—— was the Fouché of the drawing-rooms. “Intrigue,” he said, "was to Fouché a necessary of life. He intrigued at all times, in all places, in all ways, and with all persons. Nothing ever came to light but he was found to have had a hand in it. He made it his sole business to look out for something that he might be meddling with. His mania was to wish to be concerned in every thing...! Always in every body’s shoes." This the Emperor would often repeat.

At the time of the conspiracy of Georges, when Moreau was arrested, Fouché was no longer at the head of the Police, and he endeavoured to make himself very much regretted. “What stupidity!” said he, “they have arrested Moreau when he was returning to Paris from his country residence, a circumstance which at least appeared like the confidence of innocence. On the contrary, he should have been seized when he went to Gros-Bois, for then he was evidently running away.”

The remark which he made, or which is attributed to him on the affair of the Duke d’Enghien, is well known; “It is more than a crime, it is a fault,” said he. Such traits as these paint the character of a man better than whole volumes.

The Emperor knew Fouché well, and never became his dupe. He has been much blamed for having employed him in 1815, when indeed Fouché basely betrayed him. Napoleon was not ignorant of his disposition; but he also knew that the danger depended more on the circumstances than on the individual. “If I had been victorious,” said he, “Fouché would have been faithful. He took great care, it is true, to hold himself in readiness for whatever might happen. I ought to have conquered!”

The Emperor, however, was acquainted with his underhand dealings, and he did not spare him.[him.] After Napoleon’s return in 1815, one of the first bankers of Paris presented himself at the Elysée, to inform him that, a few days previously, a person just arrived from Vienna had waited upon him with letters of credit, and had made enquiries respecting the means by which he could meet with Fouché. Whether from reflection or presentiment, the banker conceived some doubts respecting this individual, and accordingly came to communicate them in person to the Emperor, who was astonished that Fouché had concealed the matter from his knowledge. In the course of a few hours Réal found the person in question, and immediately brought him to the Elysée, where he was shut up in a small room by himself. The Emperor ordered him to be brought into the garden. “Do you know me?” said he to the man. This commencement, and the feelings which the Emperor’s presence inspired, greatly startled the stranger. “I am acquainted with all your proceedings,” continued Napoleon, in a tone of severity: “if you this moment confess all you know, I may pardon you; if not, you will be taken from this garden to be shot.”—"I will tell all," said the man. “I am sent hither by M. de Metternich to the Duke of Otranto, to propose that he will despatch a messenger to Bâle, who will there meet the messenger sent by M. de Metternich from Vienna. These,” continued he, delivering some papers, “are the marks of recognition which they are to possess.”—"Have you executed your mission to Fouché?" enquired the Emperor.—"Yes."—"Has he despatched his messenger?"—"I do not know." The man was put under confinement, and within an hour a confidential person (M. F——) was on the road to Bâle. He introduced himself to the Austrian messenger, and even held four conferences with him.

Meanwhile Fouché, who was uneasy at the non-appearance of his Vienna messenger, one day waited on the Emperor, and attempted with an air of gaiety and cheerfulness to conceal his extreme embarrassment. “There were several looking-glasses,” said the Emperor, “in the apartment, and I was much amused in studying him by stealth; the expression of his countenance was hideous; he did not know how to enter upon the subject which interested him so deeply.”—"Sire," said he at length, "a circumstance["a circumstance] occurred to me four or five days ago, which I fear I was wrong in not communicating to your Majesty.... But I have so much business on my hands——I am surrounded with so many reports, so many intrigues——. A man came to me from Vienna with most ridiculous propositions,——and he is now no where to be found!"—"M. Fouché," said the Emperor, “you may injure yourself, if you take me for a fool. I have secured the man you speak of, and I have known the whole intrigue for several days. Have you sent to Bâle?”—"No, Sire."—"That is fortunate for you. If it be otherwise, and I obtain proofs of it, it may cost you your life."

Subsequent events have proved that this would have been but justice. It appears, however, that Fouché had not sent, and here the business ended.

PAPERS FROM EUROPE.—POLITICAL REFLECTIONS.

13th.—The Emperor breakfasted in the garden, and sent for us all to attend him. He resumed the reading of the papers which we had glanced at in the morning, and then proceeded to expatiate on political affairs. The following observations are those which most forcibly struck me.

“On the 13th Vendemiaire, the inhabitants of Paris were completely disgusted with the Government,” said the Emperor; "but the whole of the army, the great majority of the population of the departments, the lower class of citizens, and the peasantry, remained attached to it. Thus the Revolution triumphed over this grand attack of the counter-revolution, though it was only four or five years since the new principles had been promulgated. The most frightful and calamitous scenes had been witnessed; and a happier future was anticipated.

"But now how altered is the case!... If the soldier in his barracks seeks to while away the tedious hours in talking of battles, he cannot speak of Fontenoy or Prague, which he did not witness; he must speak of the victories of Marengo, Austerlitz, and Jena; of him who gained them; in short, of me, whose fame fills every mouth, and lives in every heart.

"Such a situation is unexampled in history. On whichever side it is viewed, nothing but misfortunes present themselves. What will be the result of this?... Two classes of people, inhabitants of the same soil, will become mortal, irreconcileable enemies, will be incessantly quarrelling, and will, perhaps, finally exterminate each other.

“The same fury will soon spread through Europe. The whole Continent will be composed of two hostile parties; it will be no longer divided by nations and territories, but by party-colours and opinions. Who can foresee the crisis, the duration, the details of so many troubles! The event cannot be doubtful. The present enlightened age will not retrograde in knowledge!... How unfortunate was my fall!... I had imprisoned the winds; but bayonets have released them. I could have proceeded tranquilly in the universal regeneration, which can henceforth be effected only amidst storms! My object was to amalgamate; others, perhaps, will extirpate!”

THE GOVERNOR’S ARRIVAL.

14th.—The rainy weather had returned; for two days it had been miserably wet. Some vessels appeared in sight; and we learnt by signals that they brought the new Governor, Sir Hudson Lowe.

The Emperor was silent and melancholy during dinner. He was not well, and he retired very early.

THE EMPEROR’S PROGRESS IN LEARNING ENGLISH.

15th.—About 12 o’clock this morning I received four letters from Europe, which rendered me as happy as I could possibly be in this place.

I saw the Emperor at five o’clock in the garden. He had taken advantage of an interval of fine weather; the rain had been pouring the whole day. I communicated to him the contents of my letters. All our party had received communications from Europe. They were delivered to us open, and they contained no news; but they proved that our friends still remembered us, and in our situation such an assurance was peculiarly gratifying.

During dinner, the Emperor described to us the contents of some French papers which he had by him, and which, he said, gave an account of the shipwreck of La Perouse, his different adventures; his death, and his journal. The narrative consisted of the most curious, striking, and romantic details, and interested us exceedingly. The Emperor observed how highly our curiosity was excited, and then burst into a fit of laughter. This story was nothing but an impromptu of his own, which he said he had invented merely to show us the progress he had made in English.

THE GOVERNOR’S FIRST VISIT.—DECLARATION
REQUIRED FROM US.

16th.—The new Governor arrived at Longwood about ten o’clock, notwithstanding the rain which still continued. He was accompanied by the Admiral, who was to introduce him, and who had, no doubt, told him that this was the most suitable hour for his visit. The Emperor did not receive him; he was indisposed, and even had he been well, he would not have seen him. The Governor, in this abrupt visit, neglected the usual forms of decorum. It was easy to perceive that this was a trick of the Admiral’s. The Governor, who probably had no intention to render himself at all disagreeable, appeared very much disconcerted. We laughed in our sleeves. As for the Admiral, he was quite triumphant.

The Governor, after long hesitation and very evident marks of ill-humour, took his leave rather abruptly. We doubted not that this visit had been planned by the Admiral, with the view of prepossessing us against each other at the very outset. But whether the Governor himself had any concern in it, or entertained any suspicion of its design, is a question which time will decide.

About half-past five, the Emperor sent for me to attend him in the garden. He was alone. He told me that a circumstance had arisen which regarded us all individually. It had been determined to require a declaration from each of us, stating whether we chose rather to unite our fate with that of the Emperor, or to be removed from St. Helena and set at liberty.

We could not guess the motive of this determination. Was it adopted by the English Ministry for the sake of procuring regular documents? But at the time of our departure from Plymouth, this preliminary condition was perfectly understood. Was it hoped by this means to separate the Emperor more completely from the world? But could it ever be supposed that we would forsake him?

He asked what would be my determination on this point. I replied that it could not be for a moment doubtful; that if I ever felt a pang, it must have been at the moment of my first determination; that from that instant my fate had been irrevocably fixed. I had at first obeyed only the dictates of glory and honour; but in every succeeding day I had indulged my natural affection and feelings. The Emperor’s voice assumed a milder tone; and this was the mode in which he expressed his thanks. I knew his heart, and the full extent of his gratitude.

I added that there was but little merit in my resolution. No change could take place in our situations. The day after having signed the document, we should be the same as we had been the day before. Our fate depended not on human combinations, but on the course of events. It would be very unwise to add to our troubles by calculations beyond the reach of human foresight. It is our duty calmly to resign ourselves to the mysterious decrees of Fate; and, in the depth of our misfortune, to comfort ourselves with the reflection that our minds are free from self-reproach. This is a consolation which it is beyond the power of man to enfeeble or to destroy.

CHARACTERISTIC CONVERSATION.—THE EMPEROR’S RETURN FROM ELBA FORESEEN AT THE TIME OF HIS DEPARTURE FROM FONTAINEBLEAU.—THE GOVERNOR’S INTRODUCTION.—MORTIFICATION EXPERIENCED BY THE ADMIRAL.—OUR CAUSES OF COMPLAINT AGAINST HIM.—DESCRIPTION OF SIR HUDSON LOWE.

17th.—The Emperor sent for me at nine o’clock. He read to me an article in the Portsmouth Courier, which gave a very long and faithful description of his residence at Briars.

He sent for me again in the middle of the day to converse with him. One part of the conversation affords so valuable a development of Napoleon’s character that I cannot refrain from noting down some passages of it.

There occasionally arose among us transient misunderstandings and disputes, which vexed and annoyed the Emperor. He adverted to this topic. He analysed our situation with his usual train of reasoning. He calculated the miseries and horrors of our exile, and pointed out the best mode of alleviating them. He said that we ought to make mutual sacrifices, and overlook many grievances; that man can only enjoy life by controlling the character given to him by nature, or by creating to himself a new one by education, and learning to modify it according to the obstacles which he may encounter.

“You should endeavour to form but one family,” said he. “You have followed me only with the view of assuaging my sorrow. Ought not this feeling to subdue every other consideration? If sympathy alone is not sufficiently powerful, let reason be your guide. You should learn to calculate your sorrows, your sacrifices, and your enjoyments, in order to arrive at a result, just as we make additions or subtractions in every kind of calculation. All the circumstances of our lives should be submitted to this rule.... We must learn to conquer ill temper. It is natural enough that little misunderstandings should arise among you; but they should be followed by explanation, and not succeeded by ill-humour; the former will produce a result, the latter will only render the affair more complicated. Reason and logical inference should, in this world, be our constant guides.” He then proceeded to show how he had sometimes acted up to these principles, and sometimes departed from them. He added that we ought to learn to forgive, and to avoid that hostility and acrimony which must be offensive to our neighbours and prejudicial to our own happiness; that we ought to make allowance for human frailties, and humour, rather than oppose, them.

“What would have become of me,” said he, "had I not followed these maxims? It has often been said that I have been too good-natured, and not sufficiently cautious; but it would have been much worse for me had my disposition been the reverse of what it is. I have been twice betrayed, it is true; and I may be betrayed a third time. But it was my knowledge of human character, and the spirit of reasonable indulgence which I had adopted, that enabled me to govern France; and which still perhaps render me the fittest person to rule that nation, under existing circumstances. On my departure from Fontainebleau, did I not say to all who requested me to point out the line of conduct they should pursue, ‘Go, and serve the King!’ I wished to grant them lawful authority for doing what many would not have hesitated to do of their own accord. I would not allow the fidelity of some to be the cause of their ruin; and finally, above all, I did not wish to have any one to censure on my return."

I here ventured, contrary to my constant custom, to call the Emperor, in some measure, to account. “How, Sire,” I exclaimed, “had your Majesty any idea of returning when you left Fontainbleau?”—"Yes, certainly, and by the simplest reasoning. If the Bourbons, said I, intend to commence a fifth dynasty, I have nothing more to do here; I have acted my part. But, if they should obstinately attempt to re-continue the third, I shall soon appear again. It may be said that the Bourbons then had my fame and conduct at their own disposal. It was in their power still to represent me in the eyes of the common mass of mankind as an upstart, a tyrant, a fire-brand, and a scourge. How much good sense and calm reflection would have been necessary to appreciate my real character, and render me justice!... But the men by whom the Bourbons were surrounded, and the erroneous line of conduct they pursued, rendered my presence desirable; they restored my popularity and decreed my return. I should otherwise have ended my days on the Island of Elba, and this would doubtless have proved most to the interest of all parties. I returned to discharge a great debt, and not for the sake of resuming possession of a throne. Perhaps few will comprehend the motive by which I was actuated; no matter. I took upon myself a heavy charge, but it was a duty I owed to the French people. Their complaints reached me; and how could I turn a deaf ear to them?

"Upon the whole, my situation in the Island of Elba was sufficiently enviable and agreeable. I should soon have created to myself a new kind of sovereignty. All that was most distinguished in Europe began to pass in review before me. I should have presented a spectacle unknown in history: that of a monarch who had descended from his throne, beholding the civilized world thronging to file off before him.

“It may indeed be objected that the Allies would have removed me from my Island; and I admit that this circumstance hastened my return. But had France been wisely governed, had the French people been content my influence would have ended; I should henceforth have belonged only to history, and the cabinet of Vienna would have entertained no idea of deposing me. It was the agitation created and maintained in France that first gave rise to the thought of my removal.”

Here the Grand Marshal entered the Emperor’s apartment. He came to announce the arrival of the Governor, who was escorted by the Admiral, and followed by the whole of his staff.

After some further conversation, Bertrand was left alone with the Emperor, and I proceeded to the antechamber; here all the suite was assembled. We endeavoured to exchange a few words with each other; but we were rather bent on observing than conversing.

In about half an hour, the Emperor entered the drawing-room. The valet-de-chambre on duty, who was stationed at the door within the apartment, then summoned the Governor, and he was introduced. The Admiral was following close behind him. The valet who had heard only the Governor’s name mentioned, suddenly closed the door without admitting the Admiral, who was shut out in spite of his remonstrance; and he withdrew quite disconcerted into the recess of one of the windows. The valet de chambre who was the cause of this affront, was Noverraz, a Swiss, a good and faithful servant, of whom the Emperor frequently said that his whole understanding was absorbed in his attachment to his master.

We were astonished at this unexpected occurrence; and we at first concluded that Noverraz had acted in obedience to the Emperor’s wishes. Though we had ample reason to complain of the Admiral, yet we did all in our power to relieve him from his embarrassment; his awkward situation distressed us. Meanwhile the Governor’s staff was summoned and introduced; and this circumstance served only to increase the Admiral’s confusion. In about a quarter of an hour the Emperor took leave of his visitors. The Governor came out of the drawing-room, and the Admiral eagerly advanced to meet him. They said a few words to each other with some degree of warmth, then took leave of us and departed.

We joined the Emperor in the garden, and our conversation turned on the Admiral’s discomfiture. The Emperor knew nothing of the matter. The whole circumstance was solely the effect of chance. The Emperor declared himself delighted with the joke. He burst into a fit of laughter, rubbed his hands, and exhibited the joy of a child, of a school-boy, who had successfully played off a trick on his master. “Ah! my good Noverraz,” said he, “you have done a clever thing for once in your life. He had heard me say that I would not see the Admiral again, and he thought he was bound to shut the door in his face. But this honest Swiss may perhaps carry the joke too far; if I were unfortunately to say we must get rid of the Governor, he would be for assassinating him before my eyes. After all,” said the Emperor, assuming a more serious tone, "it was entirely the Governor’s fault. He should have requested that the Admiral might be admitted, particularly as he had informed me that he could be presented only by him. Why, again, did he not request the Admiral’s admission when he presented his officers to me? He is solely to blame. But," continued he, “the Admiral has lost nothing by the mistake. I should without hesitation have apostrophized him in the presence of his countrymen. I should have told him that by the sentiment attached to the honourable uniform which we had both worn for forty years, I accused him of having, in the eyes of the world, degraded his nation and his Sovereign by wantonly and stupidly failing in respect to one of the oldest soldiers in Europe. I should have reproached him with landing me at St. Helena just as he would have landed a convict at Botany-Bay. I should have assured him that a man of true honour would shew me more respect on my rock than if I were still on my throne and surrounded by my armies.” The force and spirit of these remarks put a period to our gaiety, and closed the conversation.

As I have thus alluded to the Admiral, and as he is now about to quit us, I will once for all sum up the insults with which we have to reproach him, with as much impartiality as our situation and the state of our feelings will admit of.

We cannot pardon the affected familiarity with which he treated us, though our conduct afforded but little encouragement to it. Still less can we forgive him for having endeavoured to extend this familiarity to the Emperor. We can never forget the haughty and self-complacent air with which he addressed Napoleon by the title of General. The Emperor, it is true, has immortalized that title; but the tone and the intention with which it was applied were sufficiently insulting.

On our arrival at St. Helena, he lodged the Emperor in a little room, a few feet square, where he kept him for two months, though other residences could have been procured, and there was one which the Admiral had himself fixed upon. He indirectly prohibited the Emperor from riding on horseback, even in the grounds surrounding the Briars; and the individuals of the Emperor’s suite were loaded with embarrassments and humiliations, when they came to pay their daily visits to him in his little cell.

On our removal to Longwood, he stationed sentinels under the very windows of the Emperor; and then, by an evasion, which savoured of the bitterest irony, he alleged that this step had been taken only with a view to the General’s own advantage and protection. He suffered no one to come near us without a note from him, and, having thus placed us in close confinement, he declared that these arrangements had been made solely to secure the Emperor against importunity, and that he (the Admiral) was merely acting the part of Grand Marshal. He gave a ball, and sent a written invitation to General Buonaparte, in the same manner as he did to every individual in the suite. He replied with the most unbecoming jeers to the notes of the Grand Marshal, who used the title of Emperor, saying that he knew no Emperor at the Island of St. Helena, nor any such Sovereign in Europe, or elsewhere, who was not in his own dominions. He refused to forward a letter from the Emperor to the Prince Regent, unless it were delivered to him open, or he were permitted to read it. He even stifled the sentiments and expressions of respect which other individuals manifested for Napoleon. We were assured that he had put persons in inferior situations under arrest, merely for having used the title of Emperor or other similar expressions; which, however, were frequently employed in the 53rd regiment, doubtless, as the Emperor observed, through an irresistible sentiment with which these brave men were inspired.

The Admiral, from his own personal caprice, had limited the extent of our rides and walks. On this subject he had even broken his word to the Emperor. At a moment when he appeared somewhat inclined to make concessions, he had assured Napoleon that he was free to ride in all parts of the Island, without being annoyed even by the sight of the English officer appointed to guard him. But a few days after this, just as Napoleon was on the point of mounting his horse to ride out to breakfast in a shady spot at some distance from our residence, he found himself under the necessity of renouncing this little enjoyment. The officer declared that he must henceforth form one of the party and ride close to him. From that moment the Emperor refused to see the Admiral. The latter had moreover neglected the most ordinary forms of decorum, always fixing upon unsuitable hours for his own visits, and directing strangers who arrived at the Island to select the same unseasonable periods for visiting the Emperor. This was no doubt done with a view of preventing people from gaining access to Napoleon, who constantly refused to be seen on these occasions. It has already been stated that the Admiral acted thus when the Governor paid his first visit to Longwood; and the satisfaction he evinced at the Governor’s ill reception but too plainly betrayed his design.

However, if we were required to pronounce an impartial opinion on him, making allowance for the irritability of our own feelings and the delicacy of his situation, we should not hesitate to declare that our grievances rested in forms rather than facts. We should say, with the Emperor, who had after all a natural predilection for him, that Admiral Cockburn is far from being an ill-disposed man, that he is even susceptible of generous and delicate sentiment; but that he is capricious, irascible, vain, and overbearing: that he is a man who is accustomed to authority, and who exercises it ungraciously; frequently substituting energy for dignity. To express in a few words the nature of our relations with respect to him, we should say, that, as a jailor, he was mild, humane, and generous, and that we have reason to be grateful to him; but that, as a host, he was generally unpolite, often something worse, and that in this character we have cause to be displeased with him.

About two or three o’clock, the Emperor took his usual airing. During our walk in the garden and our ride in the calash, he said a good deal about the events of the morning; and the conversation on this subject was resumed after dinner. Some one jokingly observed that the two first days of the Governor’s arrival had been like days of battle, and were calculated to make us appear very untractable, though we were naturally most patient and accommodating. At these last words, the Emperor smiled and pinched the ear of the individual who made the remark.

The conversation then turned on Sir Hudson Lowe. He was described as being a man about forty-five years of age; of the ordinary height, and of slender make, with red hair, a ruddy complexion, and freckled. His eyes were said to have an oblique kind of expression; glancing askance, seldom fixed full in a person’s face; surmounted by fair, bushy, and very prominent eyebrows. “He is hideous,” said the Emperor, "he has a most villainous countenance. But we must not decide too hastily; the man’s disposition may perhaps make amends for the unfavorable impression which his face produces; this is not impossible."

CONVENTION OF THE SOVEREIGNS RESPECTING NAPOLEON.—REMARKABLE
OBSERVATIONS.

18th. The weather had been horrible for some days past, but it cleared up a little to-day. The Emperor went out early to take his walk in the garden; about 4 o’clock he got into the calash and took rather a longer airing than usual. Before dinner the Emperor desired me to translate to him the Convention of the Allied Sovereigns relative to his captivity. It was as follows:—

CONVENTION BETWEEN GREAT BRITAIN, AUSTRIA, PRUSSIA, AND RUSSIA.—Signed at Paris, August 20th, 1815.

"Napoleon Bonaparte being in the power of the Allied Sovereigns, their Majesties the King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the Emperor of Austria, the Emperor of Russia, and the King of Prussia, have agreed, by virtue of the stipulations of the treaty of the 25th of March, 1815, on the measures best calculated to preclude the possibility of his making any attempt to disturb the peace of Europe.

"Art. I.—Napoleon Bonaparte is considered by the Powers who signed the treaty of the 20th of March last, as their prisoner.

"Art. II.—His safeguard is specially intrusted to the British Government.

"The choice of the place and the measures which may best ensure the object of the present stipulation, are reserved to his Britannic Majesty.

"Art. III.—The imperial courts of Austria and Russia and the Royal court of Prussia shall appoint Commissioners to reside in the place which his Britannic Majesty’s Government shall assign as the residence of Napoleon Bonaparte, and who, without being responsible for his security, shall assure themselves of his presence.

"Art. IV.—His most Christian Majesty is invited in the name of the four Courts above mentioned, also to send a French commissioner to the place of Napoleon Bonaparte’s detention.

"Art. V. —His[—His] Majesty the King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland pledges himself to fulfil the engagements assigned to him by the present convention.

"Art. VI.—The present convention shall be ratified, and the ratification shall be exchanged in the space of a fortnight, or sooner if possible.

"In virtue of which the respective Plenipotentiaries have signed the present convention, and have affixed their seals thereto.

“Given at Paris on the 20th of August, in the year of our Lord 1815.”

When I had finished translating this document, the Emperor asked me what I thought of it.

“Sire,” I replied, "in the situation in which we are placed, I would rather depend on the interests of a single one, than on the complicated decision of four. England has evidently dictated this treaty. You see how carefully she stipulates that she alone shall answer for and dispose of the prisoner. She has been labouring to provide herself with the lever of Archimedes, and therefore it is not probable that she w¡ll entertain any idea of breaking it."

The Emperor, without explaining his ideas on this subject, adverted to the different chances which might bring about his liberation from St. Helena, and he made the following remarkable observations: “If the Sovereigns of Europe act wisely, and should succeed in completely restoring order, we shall not be worth the money and the trouble which it must cost to keep us here, and they will get rid of us. But our captivity may still be prolonged for some years, perhaps three, four, or five. Otherwise, setting aside the fortuitous events which are beyond the reach of human foresight, I calculate only on two uncertain chances of our liberation: first, that the Sovereigns may stand in need of me to assist in putting down rebellion among their subjects; and secondly, the people of Europe may require my aid in the contest that may arise between them and their monarchs. I am the natural arbiter and mediator in the immense conflict between the present and the past. I have always aspired to be the supreme judge in this cause. My administration at home and my diplomacy abroad all tended to this great end. The issue might have been brought about more easily and promptly; but fate ordained otherwise. Finally, there is a last chance, which perhaps is the most probable of all; I may be wanted to check the power of the Russians; for, in less than ten years, all Europe may perhaps be overrun with Cossacks, or subject to republican government. Such however are the statesmen who brought about my overthrow.” Then, reverting to the decision of the Sovereigns respecting him, he observed that it was difficult to account for the style of the document, and the malignant spirit which pervaded it.

“The Emperor Francis,” said he, “is a pious sovereign, and I am his son-in-law.—As for Alexander, we once loved each other. With regard to the King of Prussia, I doubtless did him much harm, but I might have done him much more; and after all, might he not have found real glory and self-satisfaction in distinguishing himself by generosity? As to England, it is to the animosity of her Ministers that I am indebted for all. But it remained for the Prince Regent to observe and interfere, or to be branded as a fool, and a protector of vulgar malignity.—One thing however is certain, namely: that the Allied Sovereigns have compromised, degraded, and lost themselves, by their treatment of me.”

THE DECLARATION REQUIRED FROM US BY THE
GOVERNOR.

19th.—This morning the Grand Marshal and Madame Bertrand came into the garden, in consequence of the Emperor having expressed an intention of breakfasting there; but as he had passed a very restless night, and had had no sleep, he breakfasted in his chamber.

The Governor gave us official notice that we must each send him a declaration, expressing our voluntary determination to remain at Longwood, and to submit to all the restrictions which Napoleon’s captivity might require. Mine was as follows:—

Declaration.—"I, the undersigned, repeat the declaration which I made when in Plymouth-roads; namely, that I wish to devote myself to the fate of the Emperor Napoleon, to accompany him, to follow him, and to alleviate, as far as lies in my power, the unjust treatment he experiences, through the most unheard-of violation of the law of nations, of which I am the more particularly sensible as it was I who conveyed to him the offer and assurance of Captain Maitland of the Bellerophon, purporting that he had orders to receive the Emperor and his suite under the protection of the British flag, if agreeable to him, and to convey him to England.

"The Emperor Napoleon’s letter to the Prince Regent, which is known to all England, and which I had previously communicated to Captain Maitland, without his having made the slightest observation on it, explains to the world much better than any thing I can say how frankly the Emperor met this offer of hospitality, and, consequently, how much he has been the dupe of his sincerity and confidence.

"Notwithstanding the experience I have had of the horrors of a residence on the Island of St. Helena, which is so prejudicial to the Emperor’s health, and to that of every European, and though, during the six months which we have passed on the island, I have been subjected to every species of privation, which I myself daily multiply, in order to avoid, as much as possible, the violation of that respect which my rank and habits demand, yet, constant to my first sentiments, and resolved that for the future no fear of misfortune, or hope of advantage, shall separate me from the Emperor Napoleon, I repeat my desire to remain with him, and to submit to whatever restrictions may be arbitrarily imposed on him."

FAREWELL VISIT OF THE LATE GOVERNOR.—INTERESTING CONVERSATION.—REMARK OF AN OLD ENGLISH SOLDIER.

20th.—Colonel Wilks, being on the eve of his departure for Europe, called with his daughter to take leave of the Emperor. The young lady was presented by Madame Bertrand. I have already mentioned that Colonel Wilks had formerly been Governor of the Colony, for the East India Company; he was succeeded by the Admiral, in the King’s name, when, in consequence of our removal to St. Helena, the island was transferred from the possession of the Company to that of the Government.

The Emperor was in a remarkably cheerful humour. He conversed for some time with the ladies, and then took Colonel Wilks aside to the recess of one of the windows, whither I followed to serve as interpreter.

Col. Wilks, as I have probably mentioned before, was for a long time the diplomatic agent of the Company in the Indian Peninsula; he has written a history of that country. He is a man of extensive information, and possesses great knowledge of chemistry. Thus he was at once a soldier, an author, a diplomatist, and a chemist. The Emperor put questions to him relative to all these subjects, and treated them himself with great fluency and spirit. The conversation was lively and varied; and it was maintained for upwards of two hours. The following are the principal particulars which I noted down. I shall probably in some measure repeat what I have said before, for the Emperor and Colonel Wilks had, some months ago, a long conversation on precisely the same topics; but that is of no importance; these subjects are so interesting that I would rather incur the risk of repeating than of losing any thing connected with them.