Chapter X: Part 10

19th.—My son and I rose very early. Our task had been finished on the preceding day; and as the Emperor could not want me for some time, we availed ourselves of the fineness of the morning to explore the neighbourhood of our abode.

Passing through the valley of James-Town, on the right of our little level height at Briars, was a deep ravine, the sides of which were intersected by numerous perpendicular cliffs. We descended into the ravine, not without difficulty, and found ourselves at the edge of a little limpid streamlet, beside which grew abundance of cresses. We amused ourselves by gathering them as we passed along; and after a few windings we soon reached the extremity of the valley and the streamlet, which are closed transversely by a huge pointed mass of rock, from the summit of which issues a pretty cascade, produced from the waters of the surrounding-heights. This water-fall descending into the valley forms the streamlet along which we had just passed, and which rolls sometimes in a rapid stream to the sea. The water of the cascade was at this moment dispersed above our heads in small rain or light vapour; but in stormy weather it rushes forth in a torrent, and furiously dashes through the ravine till it reaches the sea. To us the scene presented a gloomy, solitary, and melancholy aspect; though it was altogether so interesting that we quitted it with regret.

To-day was Sunday, and we all dined with the Emperor; he good humouredly observed that we composed his state party. After dinner the circle of our amusements was not very extensive: he asked us whether we would have a comedy, an opera, or a tragedy. We decided in favour of a comedy, and he himself read a portion of Moliere’s _Avare_, which was continued by other individuals of the party. The Emperor had a cold, and was slightly feverish. He withdrew early from his walk in the garden, and desired me to see him again that evening, if he should not have gone to bed. My son and I accompanied the rest of the gentlemen to the town; and on our return, the Emperor had retired to rest.

FIRST AND ONLY EXCURSION DURING OUR ABODE AT
BRIARS. THE ADMIRAL’s BALL.

20th.—The Emperor, after dictating as usual to one of the gentlemen, called me about five o’clock. He was alone; the rest of the gentlemen and my son having gone to the town, where the Admiral was that evening to give a ball. The Emperor and I walked along the road leading to the town, until we came within sight of the sea and the shipping. On the left, in the depth of the valley, was a pretty little house. The Emperor stood for a considerable time with his glass at his eye, examining the garden, which appeared to be very well cultivated, and in which a group of beautiful children were at play, attended by their mother. We were informed that this house belonged to Major Hudson, a resident in the island, the same gentleman who had lent me the _Annual Register_. The house was situated at the bottom of the ravine which commences in the vicinity of Briars, and near the curious cascade which I have already noticed. The Emperor took a fancy to go down to the house, though it was now nearly six o’clock. The road was extremely steep: we found it longer and more difficult of descent than we had expected; and we reached the bottom of the ravine quite out of breath. We took a survey of the little domain, which had evidently been laid out as the residence of a permanent occupant, and not as the mere temporary abode of a traveller passing to a foreign land; and, after receiving the attentions of the master of the house, and paying a few compliments to the mistress, the Emperor took his leave.

But the evening was already far advanced, and we were very much fatigued; we therefore accepted the horses that were offered us, and speedily returned to our hut and our dinner. This little excursion, and the exercise of riding on horseback, which had been so long relinquished, seemed to do the Emperor good.

He desired that I would go to the Admiral’s ball, in spite of my reluctance to leave him. At half-past eight o’clock he observed that the night was dark, the road bad, and that it was time I had set out. He insisted on my leaving him, and he entered his room, where I saw him undress and retire to bed. He again desired me to go, and I unwillingly obeyed. I left him alone; and thus, for the first time, violated a custom which had become most dear to me.

I proceeded on foot to the town. The Admiral had given great _éclat_ to his ball. It had been talked of for a considerable time before. He wished it to be understood that the entertainment was given solely on our account, and we had been formally invited. Was it most advisable to accept or to decline the invitation? Something might be said on both sides. Political misfortunes did not require that we should assume the appearance of domestic sorrow; it might be proper, and even useful, to mingle cheerfully in company with our jailors. We might, therefore, adopt either resolution indifferently. We determined to go. But what sort of conduct were we to observe? Should we assume pride, or employ address? The first might be attended with inconvenience; in our situation every wounded pretension became an insult. In the second there could be no impropriety: to receive marks of politeness as though we were accustomed to them, and as though they were our due, and to overlook any little want of respect, was certainly the wisest course. I arrived at the ball very late, and left it very early. I was much pleased with the entertainment in every respect.

MY CONDUCT WHILE THE EMPEROR WAS AT ELBA.

21st—22nd. The Emperor, who had often questioned me on the line of conduct pursued by many of his ministers, members of his Council, and officers of his Household, during his residence at the Island of Elba, at length called me to account in my turn, saying:—“But you yourself, Las Cases, what did you do after the arrival of the King? What happened to you all that time? Come, sir, make a report on that subject: you know this is my way; and it is the only plan by which we can properly classify what we say, or what we wish to learn. Besides, it will furnish you with another article for your Journal. And, don’t you see?“ added he, jokingly, “your biographers will only have the trouble of extracting; the thing will be all ready written to their hands.”

“Sire,” I replied, “you shall have a literal statement of every thing; though I have but little to say. I commanded, on the 31st of March, the 10th legion of the National Guard of Paris, that of the Legislative Body. We lost, during the day, a considerable number of men. At night I heard of the capitulation; I wrote to the officer next in rank to myself, and transferred to him the command of my legion, informing him that, though in my quality of member of the Council of State I had previously received orders to proceed elsewhere, yet I had not wished to abandon my legion at the moment of danger; but that the event which had just occurred having changed the aspect of affairs, I must now proceed forthwith to fulfil new duties.

“At day-break I set out on the road to Fontainebleau, and found myself in the midst of the wrecks of Marmont’s and Mortier’s detachments. I was on foot, but I doubted not I should be able to purchase a horse. I soon, however, discovered that soldiers in retreat are neither just nor civil. At that disastrous moment, my uniform of a National Guard was insulted, and I was myself ill-treated.

“After an hour’s walk, overpowered by the fatigue of the journey, joined to the want of rest which I had experienced for two or three nights previously; seeing around me no face that I knew, and having no hope of procuring a horse, I determined, with a sorrowful heart, to return to the capital.

“The National Guard was ordered out to assist in the triumphant entry of the enemy: there was even a probability of its being selected as a guard of honour to the Sovereigns who had conquered us. I determined to be absent from my home. I had conveyed my wife and children safely out of Paris a week or two before, and for a few days had recourse to the hospitality of a friend. I never went out of doors but in a shabby great coat, visiting the coffee-houses and public places, and joining the different groups which were formed in the streets. My object was to make observations on persons and things, and above all, to learn the real feeling of the people. How many extraordinary occurrences did I not witness in the course of my rambles!

“I saw in front of the residence of the Emperor of Russia, men distinguished by their rank, and calling themselves Frenchmen, exerting their utmost endeavours to induce the rabble to call out ‘_Long live Alexander, our deliverer!_’

“I saw, Sire, your monument on the Place Vendôme resist the efforts of a few wretches, belonging to the lowest dregs of the people, who had been hired by persons of note.

“Finally, in one of the comers of the Place Vendôme, before the hotel of the Commandant of the place, I saw one of the officers of your household trying, on the first evening after your departure, to prevail on young conscripts to enter another service than yours; but he received from them a lesson that might have made him blush for his own conduct, had he been capable of feeling shame.

“Doubtless, those to whom I here allude will exclaim that I mingled with the _rabble_; and yet it may with justice be affirmed that the acts of baseness which then disgraced France did not originate with the rabble. These acts were far from obtaining the countenance of the lower classes of the people; on the contrary, they were decidedly censured by the uprightness, generosity, and nobleness of sentiment, manifested in the public streets. What reproaches might I not convey, were I to repeat all that I heard on this subject!

“Your Majesty abdicated. I had refused my signature to the act of adherence of the Council of State; but I thought I might make amends for this by an additional act of adherence. The Moniteur was every day filled with articles of this kind; mine however was not deemed worthy the honour of insertion.

“At length the King arrived: he was henceforth our sovereign. He appointed a day for the reception of those individuals who had been presented to Louis XVI. I proceeded to the Tuileries to avail myself of this prerogative.—What were my reflections on entering those apartments which had so lately been filled with your glory and power! And yet I presented myself to the King sincerely and in good faith; my foresight never led me even to think of your return.

“Deputations to the King were multiplied beyond number: a meeting of the officers of the naval establishment was proposed. To the person who communicated this fact to me I replied that nothing could be more gratifying to my heart than to join my old comrades, none of whom could entertain sentiments purer than I did; but that the offices I had filled placed me in a peculiar and delicate situation, and that motives of prudence must deter me from appearing where the zeal of a president might lead him to employ expressions which I neither could nor would sanction by my opinion or presence.

“Subsequently, however, in spite of my mortification and disgust, I determined, at the solicitation of some friends, to think of something for myself. The Council of State was re-composed; several members of the last Council assured me, in spite of my recent conjectures on that point, that nothing was easier than to retain my office; that they had succeeded merely by an application to the Chancellor of France. I had not courage to venture a moment’s encroachment on his Lordship’s time: and therefore contented myself with writing to acquaint him that I had been Master of Requests to the last Council of State; and that, if that circumstance were not sufficient to exclude me from becoming a member of the new assembly, I begged him to recommend me to the King as a Councillor of State. I observed that I would not advance as claims to favour my eleven years’ emigration or the loss of my patrimony in the King’s cause. At that period I had only done what I then considered to be my duty; which I had at all times, to the best of my knowledge, fulfilled faithfully and to the last moment. This phrase, as may well be supposed, deprived me even of the honour of a reply.

“Meanwhile the new situation of Paris, the sight of the foreign troops, the acclamations of every kind, were more than I could endure; and I adopted the determination of going for a short time to London, where I should meet with old friends, who might afford me all the consolation of which I was susceptible. Then, again, I recollected that I might find in London the same tumult and the same exultation that had driven me from Paris; this proved to be the fact. London was the scene of festivity and rejoicing, to celebrate the triumphs of the English and our humiliation.

“During my stay in London, the marine establishment was re-modelled at Paris, and the Chevalier de Grimaldi, one of my old comrades, whom I had not seen or heard of for a length of time, was appointed a member of the Committee. He called on my wife, and expressed his surprise that I had not put in my claims; observing that I was entitled, by law, to return to the corps, or to retire on a certain pension. He advised my wife to bring me to a decision on the subject, and to rely on his friendship; adding that there was no time to be lost. I attached higher value to this mark of attention than to the favour which it was intended to procure me. However, I wrote to the Committee, requesting that, as I was desirous of wearing a uniform to which I had become attached, I might be allowed to enjoy the honorary title of _Capitaine de Vaisseau_; while at the same time I renounced the pension, to which I did not conceive myself entitled.

“I returned to Paris. The diversity of opinions and the irritation of the public mind were extreme. I had for a long time lived in the greatest retirement. I now confined myself entirely to the domestic circle of my wife and children. Never at any former period of my life did I prove myself a better husband or a better father; and never, perhaps, was I more physically happy.

“As I was one day reading, in the _Journal des Debats_, an account of a work of M. Beauchamp, I found mentioned the names of several gentlemen who were stated to have assembled on the Place Louis XV. on the 31st March, to excite sentiments in favour of royalty; and my name was among the number. It was in good company, no doubt; but at the same time the statement was untrue; and I should have been considerably lowered in the estimation of many if it had been believed. I wrote to request a correction of the error, which was calculated to render me the subject of congratulations to which I was in no way entitled.

“I observed that it was out of my power at the time to act in the way described, whatever might have been my inclination. As the commander of a legion of the National Guard, I had contracted obligations from which no consideration on earth could free me, &c. I sent my letter to the deputy Chabaud-Latour, one of the proprietors of the _Journal des Debats_, a man for whom I entertained a great esteem. He declined publishing my letter, purely from good intentions towards me. I then addressed it to the editor; but he refused to insert it on account of difference of opinion.

“Meanwhile, the state of the public mind indicated an inevitable and speedy catastrophe. Every thing foreboded that the Bourbons would share the fate of the Stuarts. My wife and I used every evening to amuse ourselves in reading Hume’s History of England. We began at Charles I., and your Majesty arrived before we had got to James II.” (Here the Emperor could not repress a laugh.)

“Your Majesty’s advance and arrival,” continued I, “were to us a subject of the greatest astonishment and anxiety. I was far from foreseeing the honourable voluntary exile which it would gain for me in the end; for I was then little known to your Majesty; and circumstances arising out of that event alone brought me here. Had I filled the most trivial post under the King; had I even been a frequent attendant at the Tuileries, which would have been very natural and consistent with propriety, I should not have appeared for a length of time in your Majesty’s presence. Not, indeed, that I should have had any thing to reproach myself with, or that my attachment to you would have been the less sincere; but because I should not have wished to pass for a piece of court furniture, or to seem always ready to offer incense at the shrine of power. I should have awaited an appointment, instead of pressing forward to solicit one. But as it was, I felt myself so much at liberty, every thing about me was in such perfect harmony, that I seemed to form a part of the great event. I therefore eagerly hastened to meet the first glance of your Majesty; I felt as though I had claims on your kindness and favour. On your return from Waterloo, the same sentiments brought me immediately and spontaneously near your person, which I have never since quitted. If I was then attracted by your public glory, I am now attached by your private virtues; and if it be true that the gratification of my feelings then cost me some sacrifice, I now find myself repaid a hundred-fold, by the happiness I enjoy in being able to tell you so.

“It would however be difficult to describe the extreme disgust I felt at every thing during the ten months of your absence. I felt an utter contempt for mankind and worldly vanities. Every illusion was destroyed, all interest had vanished. Every thing appeared to be at an end, or to be undeserving of the smallest value. During my emigration, I had received the cross of St. Louis; an ordinance decreed that it was to be legitimated by a new brevet. I had not spirit to put in my claim. Another ordinance directed that the titles bestowed by your Majesty should be sent in to be confirmed; but I felt indifferent with regard to compromising those which I had obtained during the Empire. In fine, I received a letter from the Marine department, informing me that my captain’s commission had just been forwarded thither, and there it still remains.

“Your Majesty’s absence was to me a widowhood, the affliction and grief of which I concealed from no one. But on your return I was repaid for all by the testimony borne by those who surrounded you, and to whom I had previously been scarcely known. At your Majesty’s first levee, the individual who was _ad interim_ at the head of the department of foreign affairs, coming from the presence, took me aside to a window, and told me to go home and prepare, as I should probably have to set out on a journey. He had just, he said, proposed me to your Majesty, adding that he had represented me as a madman, but mad for love of you. I wished to know whither I was to be sent; but that, he said, he neither would nor could tell me. I never heard any thing more of the matter.

“M. Regnault de Saint-Jean d’Angeli placed me on the list of the Imperial Commissioners whom your Majesty sent to the departments, I assured him that I was ready to do any thing; but I observed that I was a _noble_ and an _emigrant_, and that these two words pronounced by the first comer would be sufficient to annihilate me, in case of necessity, at any time or in any place. He acknowledged the justice of my observation, and relinquished his intention.

“A Senator next solicited that your Majesty would appoint me to the prefecture of Metz, his native town. He requested me to make this sacrifice for only three months, in order, as he said, to conciliate the popular mind, and set things to rights. At length Decrés and the Duke of Bassano proposed me as a Councillor of State; and, the third day after your arrival, your Majesty signed my appointment.”

23rd.—The Emperor was still indisposed: he confined himself to his room, and would see nobody. He sent for me at 9 o’clock in the evening. I found him very low-spirited and melancholy. He scarcely spoke to me, and I did not dare to say anything to him. If I regarded his illness as merely physical, it grieved me sincerely:—if he laboured under mental affliction, how much more was I grieved that I could not employ all the resources of consolation with which the heart naturally overflows for those whom we truly love. The Emperor dismissed me in about half an hour.

24th.—The Emperor continued indisposed, and still declined seeing any body. He sent for me to dine with him at a late hour. Dinner was served on a little table beside the sofa on which he was lying. He ate heartily. He said that he stood in need of some sudden revulsion of the constitution, which he should soon obtain; so well did he understand his own temperament. After dinner he took up the Memoirs of Marshal de Villars, which amused him. He read aloud many passages, which revived former recollections, and gave rise to many anecdotes.

THE EMPEROR’S TEMPERAMENT.—RIDING.—NOTIONS
OF MEDICINE.

25th.—The Emperor still continued unwell: he had passed a bad night. At his desire I dined with him beside the sofa, which he was unable to leave. He was, however, evidently much better. After dinner he wished to read. He had a heap of books scattered around him on the sofa. The rapidity of his imagination, the fatigue of dwelling always on the same subject, or of reading what he already knew, caused him to take up and throw down the books one after the other. At length he fixed on Racine’s Iphigenia, and amused himself by pointing out the beauties, and discussing the few faults, to be found in that work. He dismissed me at an early hour.

Contrary to the general opinion, in which I myself once participated, the Emperor is far from possessing a strong constitution. His limbs are large, but his fibres are relaxed. With a very expanded chest, he is constantly labouring under the effects of cold. His body is subject to the influence of the slightest accidents. The smell of paint is sufficient to make him ill; certain dishes, or the slightest degree of damp, immediately take a severe effect on him. His body is far from being a body of iron, as is generally supposed: all his strength is in his mind. His prodigious exertions abroad and his incessant labours at home are known to every one. No sovereign ever underwent so much bodily fatigue. The most remarkable instance of the Emperor’s activity and exertion was his riding post from Valladolid to Burgos, (a distance of thirty-five Spanish leagues) in five hours and a half; that is to say, upwards of seven leagues an hour.[25] The Emperor had set out accompanied by a numerous escort, in case of danger from the Guerillas; but at every yard he left some of his company behind him, and he arrived at Burgos with but few followers. His ride from Vienna to the Simmering, a distance of eighteen or twenty leagues, is also frequently talked of. The Emperor rode to breakfast at the Simmering, and returned to Vienna immediately after. Napoleon often hunted to the distance of thirty-eight leagues, and never less than fifteen. One day a Russian officer, who had come as a courier from St. Petersburg in the space of twelve or thirteen days, arrived at Fontainebleau at the moment when the Emperor was about to set out on a hunt. By way of a rest, the officer had the honour to be invited to join the hunting-party. He of course accepted the invitation; but he dropped down in the forest, overcome by fatigue, and was not found until after considerable search had been made for him.

Footnote 25:

This may appear incredible. Indeed I myself feel doubts now when I
read over the statement. But I know that when the subject was spoken
of one day at dinner at Longwood, it underwent much discussion, and I
noted down on paper what was then admitted to be the correct account.
Besides, many individuals who accompanied the Emperor are still
living: and the fact may be ascertained.

I have known the Emperor to be engaged in business in the Council of State for eight or nine hours successively, and afterwards rise with his ideas as clear as when he sat down. I have seen him at St. Helena peruse books for ten or twelve hours in succession, on the most abstruse subjects, without appearing in the least fatigued. He has suffered, unmoved, the greatest shocks that ever man experienced. On his return from Moscow or Leipsic, after he had communicated the disastrous event in the Council of State, he said:—“It has been reported in Paris that this misfortune turned my hair grey; but you see it is not so (pointing to his head); and I hope I shall be able to support many other reverses.” But these prodigious exertions are made only, as it were, in despite of his physical powers, which never appear less susceptible than when his mind is in full activity.

The Emperor eats very irregularly, but generally very little. He often says that a man may hurt himself by eating too much, but never by eating too little. He will remain four-and-twenty hours without eating, only to get an appetite for the ensuing day. But if he eats little, he drinks still less. A single glass of Madeira or Champaign is sufficient to restore his strength, and to produce cheerfulness of spirits. He sleeps very little and very irregularly, generally rising at daybreak to read or write, and afterwards lying down to sleep again.

The Emperor has no faith in medicine, and never takes any. He had adopted a peculiar mode of treatment for himself. Whenever he found himself unwell, his plan was to run into an extreme, the opposite of what happened to be his habit at the time. This he calls restoring the equilibrium of nature. If, for instance, he had been inactive for a length of time, he would suddenly ride about sixty miles, or hunt for a whole day. If, on the contrary, he had been harassed by great fatigues, he would resign himself to a state of absolute rest for twenty-four hours. These unexpected shocks infallibly brought about an internal crisis, and instantly produced the desired effect: this remedy, he observed, never failed.

The Emperor’s lymphatic system is deranged, and his blood circulates with difficulty. Nature, he said, had endowed him with two important advantages: the one was the power of sleeping whenever he needed repose, at any hour, and in any place; another was that he was incapable of committing any injurious excess either in eating or drinking. “If,” said he, “I go the least beyond my mark, my stomach instantly revolts.” He is subject to nausea from very slight causes; a mere tickling cough is sufficient to produce that effect on him.

OUR MODE OF LIVING AT BRIARS.—MY FIRST VISIT TO
LONGWOOD.—INFERNAL MACHINE; ITS HISTORY.

26th—28th. On the 26th the Emperor dressed very early: he found himself quite recovered. He wished to walk out, as the weather was very fine; and, besides, his room had not been put in order for three days. We went into the garden, and he chose to breakfast under the arbour. He was in good spirits, and his conversation turned upon many different subjects and persons.

The Emperor’s health being now perfectly restored, he resumed his usual occupation, which, indeed, was his only source of amusement. Reading, dictating, and walking in the garden, filled up all his time during the day. He still occasionally resorted to his favourite path, though the turn of the season, and the change of the moon, had nearly put a stop to our evening walks. The numerous visitors who came to Mr. Balcombe’s house, attracted by the hope of meeting the Emperor, annoyed him very much, and, indeed, compelled him to withdraw himself altogether. We therefore remained shut up in our little dwelling. We at first understood that we should remain at Briars only a few days; but six weeks had passed away, and we had yet heard nothing respecting our removal. All this time the Emperor had been as much confined as he had been on board of the vessel. He had taken only one excursion, which was when he visited Major Hudson; and we afterwards learned that this circumstance had occasioned alarm. It had been whispered about at the Admiral’s ball, and had reached the ears of our high authorities, who were thrown into great consternation by the event.

The workmen continued their labours at Longwood, which was to be our new residence. The troops who had come with us from England were encamped in the neighbourhood. The Colonel gave a ball, to which we were invited. The Emperor wished me to go, and that I should, at the same time, take the opportunity of inspecting our future abode. I went with Madame Bertrand, in a carriage drawn by six oxen. In this Merovingian equipage we proceeded to Longwood. This was the first opportunity I had had of seeing any part of the island, except the neighbourhood of Briars. The whole road along which we passed presented continued evidences of a great natural convulsion. We saw nothing but huge masses of rock, totally destitute of vegetation. If, at every change of the horizon, we perceived a trace of verdure or a few clusters of trees, yet on a nearer approach, all vanished like the creations of a poet’s fancy; we found only a few marine plants and wild shrubs; or, what was still worse, some wretched gum-trees. These were the only ornaments of Longwood. I returned on horseback about six o’clock. The Emperor put many questions to me concerning our new residence. Finding that I did not speak of it very enthusiastically, he asked at once whether he should gain or lose by the change? I told him what I thought in one sentence. “Sire,” said I, “we are here in a cage; there we shall be in a fold.”

28th.—The Emperor changed his military uniform, which he had put on to go on board the Bellerophon, for a fancy dress coat. In the course of conversation this day the Emperor adverted to the numerous conspiracies which had been formed against him. The infernal machine was mentioned in its turn. This diabolical invention, which gave rise to so many conjectures, and caused the death of so many victims, was the work of the Royalists, who obtained the first idea of it from the Jacobins.

The Emperor stated that a hundred furious Jacobins, the real authors of the scenes of September, the 10th of August, &c., had resolved to get rid of the First Consul, for which purpose they invented a 15 or 16-pound howitzer, which, on being thrown into the carriage, would explode by its own concussion, and hurl destruction on every side. To make sure of their object, they proposed to lay chevaux de frise along a part of the road, which, by suddenly impeding the horses, would of course render it impossible for the carriage to move on. The man who was employed to lay down the chevaux de frise, entertaining some suspicions of the job which he had been set upon, as well as of the morality of his employers, communicated the business to the police. The conspirators were soon traced, and were apprehended near the Jardin des Plantes, in the act of trying the effect of the machine, which made a terrible explosion. The First Consul, whose policy it was not to divulge the numerous conspiracies of which he was the object, did not give publicity to this, but contented himself with imprisoning the criminals. He soon relaxed his orders for keeping them in close confinement, and they were allowed a certain degree of liberty. In the same prison in which these Jacobins were confined, some Royalists were also imprisoned for an attempt to assassinate the First Consul, by means of air-guns. These two parties formed a league together; and the Royalists transmitted to their friends out of prison the idea of the infernal machine, as being preferable to any other plan of destruction.

It is very remarkable that, on the evening of the catastrophe, the Emperor expressed an extreme repugnance to go out. Madame Buonaparte and some intimate friends absolutely forced him to go to an Oratorio. They roused him from a sofa where he was fast asleep; one fetched him his sword, and another his hat. As he drove along in the carriage, he fell asleep again, and awoke suddenly, saying that he had dreamed he was drowning in the Tagliamento. To explain what he alluded to, it is necessary to mention that some years previously, when he was General of the army of Italy, he passed the Tagliamento in his carriage during the night, contrary to the advice of every one about him. In the ardour of youth, and heedless of every obstacle, he crossed the river surrounded by a hundred men armed with poles and torches. His carriage was, however, soon set afloat; Napoleon incurred the most imminent danger, and for some time gave himself up for lost. At the moment when he now awoke, on his way to the Oratorio, he was in the midst of a conflagration, the carriage was lifted up, and the passage of the Tagliamento came fresh upon his mind. The illusion, however, was but momentary; a dreadful explosion immediately ensued. “We are blown up!” exclaimed the First Consul to Lannes and Bessieres, who were in the carriage with him. They were for stopping the carriage, but the First Consul enjoined them not to do it on any account. He arrived safe, and appeared at the Opera as though nothing had happened. He was preserved by the desperate driving of his coachman. The machine injured only one or two individuals who closed the escort.

The most trivial circumstances often lead to the most important results. The coachman was intoxicated, and there is no doubt that this proved the means of saving the life of the First Consul. The man’s intoxication was so great that it was not until next morning he could be made to comprehend what had happened. He had taken the explosion for the firing of a salute. Immediately after this event, measures were adopted against the Jacobins, who had been convicted of meditating the crime: and a considerable number were banished. They, however, were not the real criminals, whose discovery was brought about by another very singular chance.

Three or four hundred drivers of _fiacres_ subscribed a louis or twelve francs each to give a dinner to the First Consul’s coachman, who had become the hero of the day and the boast of his profession. During the feast, one of the guests drinking to the health of the First Consul’s coachman, observed that he knew who had played him the trick, alluding to the explosion of the machine. He was immediately arrested, and it appeared that, on the very night, or the night preceding the explosion, he had drawn up his _fiacre_ beside a gate, whence had issued the little cart that had done all the mischief. The police proceeded to the place, and it was found to be a coach-yard, where all kinds of vehicles were lent on hire. The keepers of the yard did not deny the fact; they pointed out the stall in which the cart stood; it still presented traces of gunpowder. The proprietors declared that they were given to understand the cart had been hired by some Bretons who were concerned in smuggling. The man who had sold the horse, together with every individual who had participated in the affair, were easily traced out; and it was proved that the plot had been formed by the Chouan Royalists. Some active and intelligent men were despatched to their head-quarters in Morbihan. They took no pains to conceal their share in the transaction, and only regretted that it had not succeeded. Some of them were apprehended and brought to punishment. It is said that the chief conspirator afterwards turned Trappist, and sought to expiate his crime by religious austerities.

CONSPIRACY OF GEORGES, PICHEGRU, &C.—THE DUKE D’ENGHIEN.—THE SLAVE
TOBY.—CHARACTERISTIC REFLECTIONS OF NAPOLEON.

29th—30th. I find in this part of my manuscript some important particulars respecting the conspiracy of Georges, Pichegru, Moreau, and the trial of the Duke d’Enghien; but, as these subjects recur repeatedly in the course of my Journal, I transfer to another part what occurred here, in order to bring all my information on the above points at once under the eye of the reader.

Mr. Balcombe’s little garden, in which we so often walked, was superintended by an old negro. The first time we saw him, the Emperor, according to his usual custom, desired me to put some questions to him respecting his history; and his answers strongly excited our interest. He was a Malay Indian, and had been forced from his home by the crew of an English vessel, and sold at St. Helena, where he had continued ever since in slavery. His story bore every mark of truth. His countenance had a frank and benevolent expression; his eyes were animated and sparkling. In short his appearance was by no means abject; but, on the contrary, truly prepossessing.

The history of the poor fellow’s misfortunes filled us with, indignation; and a few days after, the Emperor expressed a wish to purchase him and send him back to his own country. He mentioned the subject to the Admiral. The latter, at first, defended his countrymen, and declared that old Toby (which was the name of the unfortunate slave) must be an impostor; for the thing was impossible. He, however, enquired into the matter, and, finding that the story was but too true, he participated in the indignation which we expressed, and promised to exert his best endeavours for the fulfilment of our design. When we left Briars for Longwood, poor Toby, sharing the common fate of all earthly things, was soon forgotten; I know not what became of him.

When we were in the garden, the Emperor generally stopped near Toby’s hut, and made me question him respecting his country, the days of his youth, his family, his present situation, &c.: one would have supposed that he wished to study the feelings of the old slave. By the Emperor’s desire, I invariably closed the conversation by giving him a Napoleon.

Toby was very much attached to us; our presence always seemed to fill him with joy. When we entered the garden, he immediately suspended his work, and, resting on his spade, gazed on us with an air of satisfaction. He understood not a word of the conversation that passed between the Emperor and myself; but he always seemed to anticipate, with a smile, the first words I translated to him. He called the Emperor the _Good Gentleman_: this was the only name he ever applied to him, and he knew him by no other.

I have mentioned the above particulars, because our meetings with Toby were always followed by novel, spirited, and characteristic reflections on the part of the Emperor. The versatility of his mind is well known. Whenever he adverted to the poor slave’s misfortunes, he always took a new view of the subject. I shall content myself with noting down the following remarks:—

“Poor Toby,” said he one day, “has been torn from his family, from his native land, and sold to slavery: could any thing be more miserable to himself, or more criminal in others! If this crime be the act of the English captain alone, he is doubtless one of the vilest of men; but if it be that of the whole of the crew, it may have been committed by men, perhaps, not so base as might be imagined; for vice is always individual, and scarcely ever collective. Joseph’s brethren could not bring themselves to slay him; while Judas, a cool, hypocritical, calculating villain, betrayed his Master. A philosopher has affirmed that men are born wicked: it would be both difficult and idle to attempt to discover whether the assertion be true. This, at least, is certain, that the great mass of society is not wicked; for if the majority were determined to be criminal and to violate the laws, who would have the power to restrain or prevent them? This is the triumph of civilization; for this happy result springs from its bosom, and arises out of its nature. Sentiments are for the most part traditionary; we feel them because they were felt by those who preceded us: thus we must look to the development of human reason and of the faculties of mankind for the only key to social order, the only secret of the legislator. It is only those who wish to deceive the people and rule them for their own personal advantage that would desire to keep them in ignorance; for the more they are enlightened, the more will they feel convinced of the utility of laws, and of the necessity of defending them; and the more steady, happy, and prosperous will society become. If, however, knowledge should ever be dangerous in the multitude, it can only be when the Government, in opposition to the interests of the people, drives them into an unnatural situation, or dooms the lower classes to perish for want. In such a case, knowledge would inspire them with spirit to defend themselves, or to become criminal.

“My code alone, from its simplicity, has been more beneficial to France than the whole mass of laws which preceded it. My schools and my system of mutual instruction are preparing generations yet unknown. Thus, during my reign, crimes were rapidly diminishing; while, on the contrary, with our neighbours in England, they have been increasing to a frightful degree. This alone is sufficient to enable any one to form a decisive judgment of the respective governments![26]

Footnote 26:

This fact is corroborated by authentic documents, which exhibit proofs
more positive than might be expected. (See _Situation de l’
Angleterre, par M. de Montvéran_.)

FRANCE ENGLAND

/—————- ———— /—————- ————

Inhabitants. Condemned to Years. Inhabitants. Condemned to
death. death.

34,000,000 882 {1801} 16,000,000 3,400

42,000,000 392 {1811} 17,000,000 6,400

It is obvious from this statement, that in the year 1801, in France,
twenty-six out of a million of inhabitants were condemned to death;
and that in 1811, ten years after, the number of condemned had
diminished two-thirds, leaving the proportion of only nine to a
million.

In England, on the contrary, where, in 1801, the number of criminals
condemned to death was 212 out of a million of inhabitants, the amount
increased by more than one half; there being in 1811, 376 out of a
million.

It is worthy of observation that the condemnations in England,
compared with those in France, were as 376 to 9, or as 42 to 1.

The report of the state of mendicity in France, compared with that of
the parish poor in England, also presents a prodigious difference: the
French list, in 1812, exhibiting only 30,000 individuals out of 43
millions of inhabitants; while in England, in the same year, a fourth
of the population, or 4,250,000 poor, were thrown upon the
parishes.—(_Montvéran_.)

“Look at the United States, where, without any apparent force or effort, every thing goes on prosperously; every one is happy and contented: and this is because the public wishes and interests are in fact the ruling power. Place the same government at variance with the will and interests of its inhabitants, and you would soon see what disturbance, trouble, and confusion, and above all, what an increase of crimes, would ensue.

“When I acquired the supreme direction of affairs, it was wished that I might become a Washington. Words cost nothing; and no doubt those who were so ready to express the wish did so without any knowledge of times, places, persons, or things. Had I been in America, I would willingly have been a Washington, and I should have had little merit in so being; for I do not see how I could reasonably have acted otherwise. But had Washington been in France, exposed to discord within, and invasion from without, I would have defied him to have been what he was in America; at least, he would have been a fool to attempt it, and would only have prolonged the existence of evil. For my own part, I could only have been a _Crowned Washington_. It was only in a congress of kings, in the midst of kings, yielding or subdued, that I could become so. Then and there alone, I could successfully display Washington’s moderation, disinterestedness, and wisdom. I could not reasonably attain to this but by means of the _universal Dictatorship_. To this I aspired; can that be thought a crime? Can it be believed that to resign this authority would have been beyond the power of human nature? Sylla, glutted with crimes, dared to abdicate, pursued by public execration! What motive could have checked me, who would have been followed only by blessings?——But it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!—How many will hereafter regret my disasters and my fall!—But to require prematurely of me that sacrifice, for which the time had not arrived, was a vulgar absurdity; and for me to have proclaimed or promised it, would have been taken for hypocrisy and quackery: that was not my way.——I repeat, it remained for me to conquer at Moscow!——”

On another occasion, pausing before Toby, he said:—“What, after all, is this poor human machine? There is not one whose exterior form is like another, or whose internal organisation resembles the rest! And it is by disregarding this truth that we are led to the commission of so many errors! Had Toby been a Brutus, he would have put himself to death: if an Æsop, he would now, perhaps, have been the Governor’s adviser; if an ardent and zealous Christian, he would have borne his chains in the sight of God, and blessed them. As for poor Toby, he endures his misfortunes very quietly; he stoops to his work, and spends his days in innocent tranquillity.” Then, after looking at him for a few moments in silence, he turned away and said: “Certainly it is a great step from poor Toby to a King Richard!——And yet,” continued he, as he walked along, “the crime is not the less atrocious; for this man, after all, had his family, his happiness, and his liberty; and it was a horrible act of cruelty to bring him here to languish in the fetters of slavery,” Then, suddenly stopping short, he added:—“But I read in your eyes that you think he is not the only example of the sort at St. Helena!” And whether he felt offended at being placed on a parallel with Toby, whether he thought it necessary to raise my spirits, or whatever else might be his reason, he went on with dignity and animation: “My dear Las Cases, there is not the least resemblance here: if the outrage is of a higher class, the victims also possess very different resources. We have not been exposed to corporeal sufferings; or if that had been attempted, we have souls to disappoint our tyrants! Our situation may even have its charms! The eyes of the universe are fixed upon us! We are martyrs in an immortal cause! Millions of human beings are weeping for us: our country sighs, and glory mourns our fate! We here struggle against the oppression of the gods, and the prayers of nations are for us!”—After a pause of a few seconds, he continued:—“Besides, this is not the source of my real sufferings! If I considered only myself, perhaps I should have reason to rejoice! Misfortunes are not without their heroism and their glory! Adversity was wanting to my career! Had I died on the throne, enveloped in the dense atmosphere of my power, I should to many have remained a problem; but now misfortune will enable all to judge of me without disguise.“

ORIGIN OF THE CORPS OF GUIDES.—ANOTHER DANGER
INCURRED BY NAPOLEON.—THE GERMAN OFFICER.

December 1st—3rd. Many incidents fill up this interval: some I reject as unnecessary, some it is proper I should withhold. I here note down only a few anecdotes of the General-in-chief of the Army of Italy.

After the passage of the Mincio, Napoleon, having concerted all his plans, and pursued the enemy in every direction, entered a castle on the left bank of the river. He was troubled with the head-ache, and he used a foot-bath. A large detachment of the enemy, in great confusion, arrived, having ascended the river as far as the castle. Napoleon had only a few persons with him; the sentinel on duty at the gate had just time to close it, exclaiming, “To arms!” and the General of the Army of Italy, in the hour of victory, was compelled to escape through the back gates of the garden, with but one boot on. Had he been made prisoner, before his reputation was established, the acts of genius which had marked the commencement of his career would, perhaps, by the common run of mankind, have been considered merely as fortunate and blameable enterprises. The danger which the French General had just escaped (a circumstance which, through his method of operations, was likely often to recur) was the origin of the guides appointed to guard his person. These guides have since been introduced in other armies.

In the same campaign, Napoleon incurred another imminent risk:—Wurmser, who had been compelled to throw himself into Mantua, and who was debouching suddenly on an open plain, learned from an old woman, that, only a few moments before his arrival, the French General, with but a few followers, had stopped at her door, and that he had fled within sight of the Austrians. Wurmser immediately despatched parties of cavalry in every direction, calculating with certainty on the precious capture. “But,” said the Emperor, “I must do him this justice, he gave particular orders that I should not be killed or harmed in any way.” Fortunately for the young General, his happy star and the swiftness of his horse preserved him.

The new system of military operations practised by Napoleon disconcerted every one. The campaign was scarcely opened, when Lombardy was inundated with troops in every direction, and the French approached Mantua pell-mell with the enemy. The General-in-chief, when in the neighbourhood of Pizzighitone, met a great fat German Captain or Colonel, who had been made prisoner. Napoleon took a fancy to question him, without being known, and enquired how affairs were going on. “Very badly,” replied the officer; “I know not how it will end; but no one seems to understand what is doing; we have been sent to fight a young blockhead, who attacks you on the right and the left, in front and in rear, so that there is no knowing how to proceed. This mode of carrying on war is intolerable; and for my part, I am very glad to have done with it....”