Chapter X: Part 10

“This event created a great sensation,” said the Emperor. “The public mind was wrought up to a high pitch of fermentation. Doubts were entertained of the truth of the statements made by the Government respecting the extent of the conspiracy and the number of the conspirators. Of the latter it was affirmed there were about forty in Paris. Their names were published, and the First Consul pledged his honour to secure them. He summoned Bassières, and gave orders that he, with his corps, should surround and guard the walls of Paris. For the space of six weeks, nobody was suffered to quit the capital without special permission. A general gloom prevailed through Paris; but every day the Moniteur announced the arrest of one or two of the individuals who it was alleged were concerned in the conspiracy. Public opinion took a turn in my favour; and indignation against the conspirators increased in proportion as they were secured. Not one escaped.”

The public papers of the period detail the particulars of the arrest of Georges, who killed two men before he could be secured. It appears that he was betrayed by his comrade, who drove the cabriolet in which they were both riding together.

As to Pichegru, he was the victim of the basest treachery. “This circumstance,” said the Emperor, “was truly a disgrace to human nature. He was sold by his intimate friend; by a man whom I will not name, on account of the horror and disgust which his conduct is calculated to excite.” We informed the Emperor that the name of this individual had been mentioned in the Moniteur, at which he expressed surprise. “This man,” continued he, "who was formerly a military officer, and who has since followed the business of a merchant at Lyons, offered to deliver up Pichegru for 100,000 crowns. On the day on which he made this proposal, he stated that they had, on the preceding evening, supped together, and that Pichegru, finding himself every day alluded to in the Moniteur, and being aware that the critical moment was fast approaching, said, ‘If I and a few other Generals were boldly to present ourselves to the troops, should we not gain them over?’—‘No,’ replied the friend, ‘you form a wrong idea of the state of feeling in France; you would not gain over a single soldier.’—He spoke truly. At night, the faithless friend conducted the officers of the police to Pichegru’s door; and he gave them a minute description of his chamber and his means of defending himself. Pichegru had pistols on his bed-room table, and he kept a light burning while he slept. The officers gently unlocked the door by means of false keys, which the treacherous friend had procured for them. The table was overturned, the candle was extinguished, and the officers seized Pichegru, who immediately jumped out of bed. He was a very powerful man; he struggled desperately, and it was found necessary to bind him and convey him to prison, without waiting till he could be dressed."

On being placed at the head of the government, the First Consul was extremely anxious to tranquillize the western departments. He summoned nearly all the leading men of those districts, and succeeded in rousing several of them to a sense of the interests and glory of their country; he added that he even drew tears from the eyes of some. Georges had his turn among the rest. The Emperor said that he had endeavoured to touch every individual string of his heart; but in vain, he could produce no vibration. He found him lost to every generous feeling, and coldly intent on his own ambitious calculations. He persisted in his determination to command his Cantons. The Consul, having exhausted every conciliatory argument, at length assumed the language of the first Magistrate of France. He dismissed him, and recommended him to go home and live quietly and submissively; and above all, not to mistake the nature of the course he had that moment adopted, nor to attribute to weakness what was only the result of his moderation and the consciousness of his power. He desired him to repeat to himself, and to all who were connected with him, that, so long as the First Consul should hold the reins of authority, there would be no chance of safety for any who might dare to engage in conspiracy. Georges took his leave; but, as the event proved, not without having imbibed from this conference a feeling of respect for Napoleon, on whose destruction, however, he still continued bent.

Moreau was the rallying point and the centre of attraction to the conspirators, who came from London to attack Paris. It appeared that Lajollais, his Aide-de-camp, had deceived these men, by addressing them in the name of Moreau, and telling them that that General was secure of popular favour throughout the whole of France, and could dispose of the whole army. Moreau constantly assured them that he could command no one, not even his Aide-de-camp; but that if they killed the First Consul, they might do any thing.

Moreau, when left to himself, was a very good sort of man. He was easily led, and this accounts for his inconsistencies. He left the palace in raptures, and returned to it full of spleen and malice;—having in the interim seen his mother-in-law and his wife. The First Consul, who would have been very glad to have gained him over to his side, once made it up with him completely; but their friendship lasted only four days. The Consul then vowed that he would never renew it. In fact, attempts were afterwards frequently made to reconcile them; but Napoleon never would agree to it. He foresaw that Moreau would commit some fault, that he would lose himself; and certainly he could not have done so in a way more advantageous to the First Consul.

Some days previous to the battle of Leipsic, some carriages containing property and papers belonging to Moreau, which were on their way to his widow in England, were intercepted at Wittemberg. Among those papers, there was a letter from Madame Moreau herself, in which she advised her husband to lay aside his silly wavering conduct, and to come boldly to a determination. She urged him to assist in the triumph of the legitimate cause, that of the Bourbons. In answer to this, Moreau wrote a few days before his death, begging her not to trouble him with her chimeras. “I have come near enough to France,” said he, "to learn all that is going forward there. I have got into a real hornet’s nest."

The Emperor was on the point of publishing these intercepted papers in the Moniteur; but there still existed in France some persons blindly tenacious of the opinion they had always maintained respecting Moreau, and who persisted in regarding him as a victim of tyranny. The counter-revolution had not yet afforded an opportunity of making known those acts hitherto disavowed, and of claiming their recompense. The circumstance of personal enmity prevented the Emperor from executing his intention. He thought that it would not be becoming to revive this enmity for his own advantage, and to tarnish the memory of a man who had just fallen on the field of battle.

The trial of Moreau and Pichegru, which was protracted for such a length of time, violently agitated the public mind. What added to the notoriety and interest of this trial was its connection with the affair of the Duke d’Enghien, with which it became interwoven. “I have,” said the Emperor, “been reproached with having committed a great fault in that trial. It has been compared with the affair of the necklace, in the reign of Louis XVI., which that Monarch put into the hands of Parliament, instead of having it judged by a Commission. Politicians have affirmed that I should have contented myself with consigning the criminals to the judgment of a Military Commission. It would have been ended in eight and forty hours. I could have done it; it was legal, and nothing more would have been required of me; I should have avoided the risks to which I was exposed. But I felt my power so unlimited, and I was at the same time so strong in the justice of my cause, that I was determined the affair should be open to the observation of the whole world. For this reason the ambassadors and agents of Foreign powers were present during the proceedings!”

One of the company present here observed to the Emperor that the course he then adopted had proved advantageous to history and honourable to his own character. It had furnished three volumes of authentic documents relating to the trial.

Another individual of the Emperor’s suite, who, at the time of this celebrated trial, was with the army at Boulogne, said that all these events, even the affair of the Duke d’Enghien, had there excited but little interest, and that, on his return to Paris, some time afterwards, he was astonished to observe the sensation which they had created in the capital.

The Emperor remarked that the public mind had indeed been highly excited, particularly on the occasion of the death of the Duke d’Enghien, which event, he said, still appeared to be judged of in Europe with blindness and prejudice. He maintained his right of adopting the step he had taken, and enumerated the reasons which had urged him to it. He then adverted to the many attempts that had been made to assassinate him, and observed that he was bound in justice to say that he had never detected Louis XVIII. in any direct conspiracy against his life, though such plots had been incessantly renewed in other quarters. With regard to that Prince he had heard only of his systematic plans, ideal operations, &c.

“If,” continued he, “I had continued in France in 1815, I intended to have given publicity to some of the later attempts that were made against me. The Maubreuil affair, in particular, should have been solemnly investigated by the first Court of the Empire, and Europe would have shuddered to see to what an extent the crime of secret assassination could be carried.”

CONVERSATION RESPECTING THE SITUATION OF ENGLAND.—LETTERS DETAINED BY
THE GOVERNOR.—CHARACTERISTIC OBSERVATIONS.

31st.—At five o’clock, I went to join the Emperor in the garden; we were all assembled there. The conversation turned on politics. He described the melancholy situation of England, amidst her triumphs. He alluded to the immensity of her debt, the madness, the impossibility of her becoming a continental power, the dangers which assailed her constitution, the embarrassment of her ministers, and the just clamour of the people. England with her 150 or 200 thousand men, made as many efforts as he, the Emperor, had ever made during the period of his great power, and perhaps even more. He had never employed beyond 500 thousand French troops. The traces of his Continental system were followed by all the powers on the Continent, and would be pursued still further in proportion as those powers became more settled. He did not hesitate to say, and he proved it, that England would have gained by adhering to the treaty of Amiens; that such a line of conduct would have been to the advantage of all Europe, but that Napoleon himself, and his glory would have suffered by it. Yet it was England, and not he, who broke the treaty.

There was only one course, he continued, for England to pursue; namely, to return to her constitution and abandon the military system; to interfere with the Continent only through her maritime influence, in which she was pre-eminent. It was, he said, easy to foresee that great calamities would assail her should she adopt any other course, and this she would inevitably do, because all her aristocracy urged her to it, and because the folly, pride, or venality of her present ministry caused her to persist in the system she was pursuing.

The conversation being concluded, the Emperor returned to his study, and desired me to follow him. He told me that a letter which had been sent to him from England by post was said to have been kept back by the Governor, because it was not addressed to him officially; and it was said that a letter for the Grand Marshal had been detained for the same reason. The Emperor observed that, if this were true, there was something peculiarly cruel in the conduct of the Governor, in having sent back the letters without even mentioning them to us, and without affording us the consolation of knowing from whom they came.... A neglect of form, he said, might easily be corrected in the Island; but it could not so easily be observed at 2000 leagues’ distance. I told the Emperor that a circumstance nearly similar to that which he had just mentioned had occurred to me eight or ten days back. “A person who was on his way to Europe had tormented me with his offers of service. I yielded to his solicitations, and commissioned him to order me some shoes and to get a watch changed for me, for there is no person here who knows how to repair a watch. The Governor had forbidden the execution of those commissions, because they had not been addressed to himself. I have said nothing on the subject to any one, Sire, because it is a principle with me to conceal an insult for which I cannot obtain redress; but I shall find an opportunity to tell the Governor my mind. In the mean time, neither he nor the person to whom I gave the commission, has been able to draw from me a line, or a single word, though the latter has made several attempts to do so.”

After dinner the Emperor, conversing on our situation and the conduct of the Governor, who came to-day and took a rapid circuit round Longwood, reverted to the subject of the last interview they had had together, and made some striking observations respecting it. “I behaved very ill to him, no doubt,” said he, “and nothing but my present situation could excuse me; but I was out of humour, and could not help it; I should blush for it in any other situation. Had such a scene taken place at the Tuileries, I should have felt myself bound in conscience to make some atonement. Never, during the period of my power, did I speak harshly to any one without afterwards saying something to make amends for it. But here I uttered not a syllable of conciliation, and I had no wish to do so. However, the Governor proved himself very insensible to my severity; his delicacy did not seem wounded by it. I should have liked, for his sake, to have seen him shew a little anger, or bang the door after him when he went away. This would at least have shown that there was some spring and elasticity about him; but I found nothing of the kind.”

The Emperor then again resumed his conversation on political affairs, which he maintained with so much spirit and interest, that I could have forgotten for a time what part of the world I was in. I could have believed myself still at the Tuileries or in the Rue de Bourgogne.

VOLTAIRE.—JEAN JACQUES ROUSSEAU.—CHARACTERISTIC DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE
ENGLISH AND THE FRENCH NATIONS.—M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND.—HIS SPEECH AT THE
INSTITUTE.—AFFECTED ANGER OF THE EMPEROR ON SEVERAL OCCASIONS.—HIS
PRINCIPLES ON THAT HEAD.

Saturday, 1st of June.—The Emperor sent for me. He had just come out of his bath, where he had remained three hours, and he asked me to guess what book he had been engaged in reading whilst in the water; it was Rousseau’s New Eloise. He had expressed himself quite charmed with this work when he first perused it at the Briars; but in analysing it again, he now criticised it with unsparing severity. The rock of _la Meillerie_ being mentioned, he said he thought it had been destroyed when he caused a road to be made over the Simplon; but I assured him that enough remained to preserve a perfect recollection of it: it projects over the road, and, like Leucate of old, offers a fine leap to despairing lovers.

To the noble character given by Rousseau to Lord Edward in his New Eloise, and to the impression produced by some of Voltaire’s plays, the Emperor ascribed, in a great measure, the high estimate which had been formed in France of the English character. The facility with which public opinion was governed in those days excited his surprise; Voltaire and Rousseau, who had _then_ directed it as they pleased, would not, he thought, be able to do so at the present time; and Voltaire, in particular, had only exercised so powerful an influence over his contemporaries, and been considered the great man of his age, because all around him were pigmies.

The Emperor then proceeded to compare the character of the English and French nations. “The higher classes among the English,” said he, "are proud; with us unfortunately they are only vain; in that consists the great characteristic distinction between the two nations. The mass of the people in France certainly possess a greater share of national feeling than any other now existing in Europe; they have profited by the experience of their twenty-five years’ revolution; but unfortunately that class which the revolution has advanced have not been found equal to the station of life to which they have been elevated; they have shown themselves corrupt and unstable: in the last struggles they have not been distinguished either by talents, firmness, or virtue; in short, they have degraded the honour of the nation."

A speech of M. de Chateaubriand’s has been read to the Emperor, on the propriety of allowing the clergy to inherit. The Emperor observed that it was rather an Academical oration than the opinion of a legislator—it had wit, but showed little judgment, and contained no views whatever.—"Allow the clergy to inherit," said he, “and nobody will die without being obliged to purchase absolution: for, whatever our opinions may be, we none of us know whither we go on leaving this world. Then must we remember our last and final account, and no one can pronounce what his feelings will be at his last hour, nor answer for the strength of his mind at that awful moment. Who can affirm that I shall not die in the arms of a confessor? and that he will not make me acknowledge myself guilty of the evil I shall not have done, and implore forgiveness for it?”—In the present instance, however, as somebody has observed, M. de Chateaubriand may be said to uphold an opinion, rather than express a sentiment of his own; and there are strong grounds for believing that, in religion, as well as in politics, he has often been known to set forth doctrines which had failed to carry conviction to his own mind.

On the article of religion, for instance, it is well known that before he wrote his _Beauties of Christianity_, he had published in London another work, of a tendency decidedly anti-religious.[18] The bookseller to whom he entrusted the sale of this work, was Dulau, formerly a benedictine monk of Soreze, who had sought refuge in London at the time of the revolution. Being a man of intelligent mind and sound judgment, he took the liberty of giving M. de Chateaubriand some good advice. He represented to him that both the place and the time were ill chosen for indulging in declamations against religion; that the moment had gone by when they were favourably received; that they had become common-place and in bad taste; and that the surest way to engage the attention of the public would be to take up the other side of the question, and advocate, on the contrary, the cause of religion. M. de Chateaubriand listened to this advice, and wrote his _Beauties of Christianity_; and the event proved that Dulau had not been mistaken in his choice of the moment, for it is very doubtful, if the work were to appear now, whether it would obtain the brilliant success it then met with, notwithstanding the great merit which it undoubtedly possesses.

Footnote 18:

Essai sur les Revolutions Anciennes et Modérnes.

The appointment of the author of _The Beauties of Christianity_ to the embassy of Rome, was considered, at the time, as a very delicate attention on the part of the First Consul to M. de Chateaubriand, who, in his turn, hailed it as a first triumph, and the presage of still greater triumphs which awaited him in the capital of the Christian world, amongst the rulers of the church. But he was soon doomed to find himself greatly mistaken, for people at Rome were highly scandalized at seeing religion transformed into romance, and the Divines condemned without hesitation _The Beauties of Christianity_, which they pronounced to abound in heresies.

However, M. de Chateaubriand, thoroughly convinced of his own merit, consoled himself by affecting to laugh with pity at such puerilities; and, happening to be about this time godfather to a little girl, he gave her the name of Atala; by this name, however, the priest positively refused to christen her, whilst M. de Chateaubriand, in his turn, insisted with all the obstinacy of an author and all the pride of an ambassador. This affair made a noise, and M. de Chateaubriand laid a complaint before the Cardinal-governor; who decided in favour of the priest; and moreover, felt highly offended on the occasion: for M. de Chateaubriand, fancying that his services in the cause of religion had given him a right to assume the tone of one initiated in the secrets of the church, concluded his argument with the Cardinal by saying: “That it was very ridiculous that such obstacles should be thrown in _his_ way; for,” added he, “_between ourselves_, your Eminence must know that between Atala and any other Saint, there is no great difference.”

The Emperor was highly entertained by these anecdotes, which, he said, were quite new to him, and the person who related them observed that, although he could not vouch for their authenticity, yet he had no doubt of it in his own mind, having heard them from one of the persons who succeeded M. de Chateaubriand at the court of Rome.

In politics M. de Chateaubriand has been alternately seen amongst the adherents and opponents of Napoleon; and the Emperor charges him, when in his service, with malevolence and want of integrity, particularly at the time of his embassy to the old King of Sardinia at Rome.

During the disastrous event of 1814, he made himself conspicuous by writing pamphlets so outrageously violent and virulent, and disgraced by such barefaced calumnies, that they excited feelings of disgust. He no doubt must regret having been the author of them, and would not now degrade his talents by such writings.

Some years before our disasters, the Emperor, reading one day some fragments of this author’s works, expressed his surprise that he was not a member of the Institute. These words acted as a powerful recommendation in favour of M. de Chateaubriand, who hastened to put himself in the list as a candidate, and was almost unanimously chosen.

According to one of the invariable rules of the Institute, the candidate newly chosen was to make a speech in praise of the member to whom he was then succeeding; but M. de Chateaubriand, persuaded, that for a man who had once occupied the attention of the public, the surest way to acquire celebrity was to leave the beaten track, and strike into a new path to fame, reversed this custom by devoting part of his speech to stigmatise the political principles of M. Chenier his predecessor, and proscribe him as a regicide. His speech was a complete political argument, discussing the restoration of monarchy and the judgment and death of Louis XVI.; the whole Institute was in an uproar, some of the members refusing to listen to a speech which appeared to them indecorous, and others, on the contrary, insisting upon its being read. From the Institute the dispute spread rapidly through the different circles of Paris, which were full of the debate, and divided in opinion on the subject; and at last reached the ears of the Emperor, to whom every thing was carried, and who wished to be informed of every thing. He ordered the speech to be shown to him, pronounced it to be extravagant in the extreme, and instantly forbade its publication. It so happened that one of the members of the Institute, who had taken a lively part in the discussion, and voted for the reading of the speech, was also one of the great officers of the Emperor’s household; and the Emperor took advantage of this circumstance to manifest his opinion, by addressing him in the following manner at one of his _couchers_:—"How long is it, sir," said he, with the utmost severity, "since the Institute has presumed to take the character of a political assembly? The province of the Institute is to produce poetry and to censure faults of language; let it beware how it forsakes the domain of literature, or I shall take measures to bring it back within its proper limits. And is it possible that _you_, sir, have sanctioned such an intemperate harangue by your approbation? If M. de Chateaubriand is insane, or disposed to malevolence, a mad-house may cure him, or punishment correct him; yet it may be that the opinions he has pronounced are conscientiously his own, and he is not obliged to surrender them to my policy, which is unknown to him; but with you the case is totally different—_you_ are constantly near my person, you are acquainted with all my acts, you know my will; there _may_ be an excuse in M. de Chateaubriand’s favour, there _can_ be none in yours. Sir, I hold you guilty, I consider your conduct as criminal: it tends to bring us back to the days of disorder and confusion, anarchy and bloodshed. Are we then banditti? And am I but an usurper? Sir, I did not ascend the throne by hurling another from it; I found the crown; I picked it up out of the kennel, and the nation placed it on my head: respect the nation’s act. To submit facts that have so recently occurred to public discussion in the present circumstances, is to court fresh convulsions, and be an enemy to the public tranquillity. The restoration of monarchy is veiled in mystery, and must remain so; wherefore then, I pray, this new proposed proscription of conventionalists and regicides? Why are subjects of so delicate a nature again brought to light? To God alone it must belong to pronounce upon what is no longer within the reach of the judgment of men! Are you to be more scrupulous than the Empress? Her interests are as dear as yours can be in this question, and much more direct, yet she has asked no questions, she has made no enquiries; take example from her moderation.

"Have I then lost the fruit of all my labours? have all my efforts been of so little avail that, as soon as my presence no longer restrains you, you are ready to cut one another’s throats?" And, in speaking thus, he paced the room with rapid strides, and, striking his forehead with his hand, exclaimed: "Alas! poor France, long yet must thou need the care of a guardian.

“I have done all in my power,” continued he, "to quell all your dissensions; to unite all parties has been the constant object of my solicitude. I have made all meet under the same roof, sit at the same board, and drink of the same cup. I have a right to expect that you will second my endeavours.

"Since I have taken the reins of government, have I ever inquired into the lives, actions, opinions, or writings of any one?—Imitate my forbearance.

“I have never had but one aim, never asked but this one question; will you sincerely assist me in promoting the true interest of France? and all those who have answered affirmatively have been placed by me in a defile of granite and without outlet on either side, through which I have urged them on to the other extremity, where my finger pointed to the honour, the glory, and the splendour of France.”

This reprimand was so severe that the person to whom it was addressed, a man of honour and delicate feelings, determined upon asking an audience the next day, in order to tender his resignation. He was admitted to the presence of the Emperor, who immediately said to him: “My dear sir, you are come on account of the conversation of yesterday; you felt hurt on the occasion, and I have felt not less so; but it was a piece of advice which I thought it right to give to more than one person; if it has the desired effect of producing some public good, we must neither of us regret the circumstance; think no more about it.” And he spoke of something else.

Thus would the Emperor often censure whole bodies in the person of one single individual; and, in order to strike with greater awe, he did it in a most solemn and imposing manner. But the anger which he sometimes shewed in public, and of which so much has been said, was only feigned, and put on for the moment. The Emperor affirmed that by such means he had often deterred many from the commission of a fault, and spared himself the necessity of punishing.

One day, at one of his grand audiences, he attacked a Colonel with the utmost vehemence, and quite in a tone of anger, upon some slight disorders of which his regiment had been guilty towards the inhabitants of the countries they had passed through, in returning to France. During the reprimand, the Colonel, thinking the punishment out of all proportion to the fault of which he was accused, repeatedly endeavoured to excuse himself; but the Emperor, without interrupting his speech, said to him in an under-tone, “Very well, but hold your tongue; I believe you: but say nothing:” and when he afterwards saw him in private, he said to him: “When I thus addressed you, I was chastising, in your person, certain Generals whom I saw near you, and who, had I spoken to them direct, would have been found deserving of the lowest degradation, and perhaps of something worse.”

But it sometimes happened, also, that the Emperor was publicly appealed to: I have witnessed several instances of this kind.

One day at St. Cloud, at the grand audience which was held every Sunday, a Sub-prefect, or some other public officer of Piedmont, who was standing by my side, addressed the Emperor in a loud tone of voice and with the utmost emotion, calling for justice, asserting that he had been falsely accused, and unjustly condemned and dismissed from the service. “Apply to my ministers,” answered the Emperor. “No, Sire, I wish to be judged by you.” “That is impossible, my time is wholly absorbed with the general interests of the Empire, and my ministers are appointed to take into consideration the particular cases of individuals.” “But they will condemn me.” “For what reason?” “Because every body is against me.” “Why?” “Because I love you—to love you, Sire, is a sufficient motive to inspire every one with hatred.” All the bystanders were disconcerted at this answer, and red with confusion; but the Emperor replied, with the utmost calmness, “This is rather a strange assertion, sir, but I am willing to hope that you are mistaken,” and he passed on to the next person. On another occasion also, on the parade, a young officer stepped out of the ranks, in extreme agitation, to complain that he had been ill-used, slighted, and passed over, and that he had been five years a Lieutenant, without being able to obtain promotion. “Calm yourself,” said the Emperor, “I was _seven_ years a Lieutenant, and yet you see that a man may push himself forward for all that.” Every body laughed, and the young officer, suddenly cooled by those few words, returned to his place. Nothing was more common than to see private individuals attack the Emperor, and hold out against him, and I have often seen him thus sharply and warmly disputed with, and unable to silence his opponent, give up the contest by addressing another person, or by turning the conversation to another subject.

It may be observed, as a general principle, that, however violent the Emperor’s actions might appear, they were always the result of calculation. “When one of my ministers,” said he, “or some other great personage had been guilty of a fault of so grave a nature that it became absolutely necessary for me to be very angry, I always took care in that case to have a third person present to witness the scene that was to ensue; for it was a general maxim, with me, that when I resolved to strike a blow it must be felt by many at the same time; the immediate object of my resentment did not feel more incensed against me on that account, and the bystander, whose embarrassed appearance was highly ludicrous, did not fail to run and circulate, most discreetly, as far as he could, all that he had seen and heard. A salutary terror ran thus from vein to vein through the body social: a new impulse was given to the march of affairs; I had less to punish, and a great deal of public good was obtained without inflicting much private hardship.”

REFLECTIONS ON THE GOVERNOR.—EXPENSES OF THE EMPEROR’S HOUSEHOLD AT THE
TUILERIES.—OF A GOOD SYSTEM OF FINANCE.—MESSRS. MOLLIEN AND
LABOUILLERIE.

Sunday, 2nd.—The Emperor rode out on horseback at about eight o’clock; he had long since abstained from enjoying that exercise. In returning through the valley of the Company’s garden, he went into the house of one of the Company’s Adjutants, whose wife is a Catholic; he remained there a few minutes only, and was in high spirits. We next went to the house of Madame Bertrand, to whom the Emperor paid a long visit. He alluded, in the strongest terms, and with infinite humour, to the behaviour of the Governor towards us; to his paltry measures, his total want of consideration, the absurd manner in which he conducted the affairs of the government of the island, and his total ignorance of the business and manners of life. “We had certainly some reason to complain of the Admiral,” said the Emperor; “but _he_ at least was an Englishman, and this man is nothing but an Italian _Sbire_. We have not the same manners,” added he, “we cannot understand each other; our feelings do not speak the same language. He probably cannot conceive, for instance, that heaps of diamonds would be insufficient to atone for the affront he has offered in causing one of my domestics to be arrested almost in my presence. Since that day all my household are in consternation.”

On returning from our ride, we breakfasted in the garden. In the evening, whilst we were taking an airing in the calash, and making what we called the double round, we beguiled the time in making an estimate of the expenses of a man possessing an income of 150,000 livres in Paris. The Emperor said that a sixth of that sum should go for the stables, a fourth for the table, &c. I have already said that he was fond of making such calculations, which he always had the art of placing in a new and unexpected light.

The conversation led us to some details worthy of remark on the civil list and the expenses of the Emperor’s household. The following are amongst those I have remembered:

One million was allowed for the table, and yet the expense of the Emperor’s own dinner did not exceed one hundred francs a day. It had never been found possible to manage to give him his dinner hot; for, when once engaged in his closet, it was impossible to know when he would leave it. Therefore, when the hour of dinner arrived, a fowl was put on the spit for him every half hour; and it has sometimes happened that dozens have been roasted before that which has finally been set before him.

The conversation now turned upon the advantages of a good administration of finances. The Emperor spoke highly of the talents of Messrs. de Mollien and Labouillerie, in that branch. M. de Mollien, in particular, had put the treasury on the footing of a simple banking-house; and the Emperor had continually under his eyes, in a small book for that purpose, a complete statement of the revenue, the receipt, expenditure, arrears, resources, &c.

The Emperor had in his cellars at the Tuileries, he added, as much as 400 millions in gold, which were entirely his own property; so much so indeed that no other account of it existed but in a small book in the hands of his private Treasurer. All this treasure disappeared by degrees, and was applied to the expenses of the Empire, particularly at the time of our disasters. “How could I think,” said he, “of keeping anything for myself! I had identified myself with the nation.” He further added that _he_ had sent 2000 millions in specie into France, without reckoning what private individuals might have brought on their own account.

The Emperor said that he had been much hurt at the conduct of M. de Labouillerie, who, being at Orleans in 1814, in charge of several millions belonging to him (Napoleon), his own private property, had taken them to the Count d’Artois in Paris instead of carrying them to Fontainbleau, as he was in duty and in conscience bound to do. “And yet Labouillerie was not a bad man,” said the Emperor. “I had both loved him and esteemed him. On my return in 1815 he earnestly entreated me to see him and hear what he had to say in his own defence; he no doubt would have proved that his fault arose from his ignorance, and not from his heart. He knew me; he was aware that, if he could approach me, the affair would be settled with a few angry expressions on my part; but I also knew my own weakness, I was resolved not to take him into my service again, and therefore refused to admit him. It was the only way in which I could hope at that moment to hold out against him and several others. Esteve, the predecessor of Labouillerie, would not have acted in that manner; he was entirely devoted to my person; he would have brought my treasure to Fontainbleau at all hazards; or if he had failed in the attempt, he would have thrown it into a river, or distributed it in various places, rather than give it up.”

ON WOMEN, &C.—POLYGAMY.

Monday, 3rd.—The Emperor, after having been three hours in his bath, went out at about five o’clock, to take a walk in the garden. He was taciturn and dejected, and wore the appearance of suffering. We afterwards drove out in the calash, and by degrees he became more cheerful and talkative.

On our return, he continued to walk for some time; and in order to engage in a playful warfare with one of the ladies present, he affected to declaim against women. “We men of the West,” said he, winking aside to us at the same time, to let us know that he was jesting, “know nothing at all about the matter, we have acted most unwisely in treating women too well; we have imprudently allowed them to rank almost as our equals. In the East they have more sense and judgment; _there_ women are pronounced to be the actual property of man; and so indeed they are. Nature has made them our slaves, and it is only by presuming upon our folly that they can aspire to govern us, and by abusing the advantages which they possess, that they succeed in fascinating us and establishing their dominion over us. For one woman that inspires us with proper sentiments, there are a hundred who lead us into errors.” He then went on to express his approbation of the maxims of the oriental nations, highly commended the practice of polygamy, which he considered to be that pointed out by nature, and displayed considerable ingenuity and fertility of invention in the choice and number of arguments which he adduced in support of his opinion. “Woman,” said he, "is given to man to bear children to him; but one woman cannot suffice to one man for that purpose, for a woman cannot fulfil the duties of a wife during the period of her gestation, whilst she suckles her child, or when she is ill: and she ceases altogether to be a wife when she is no longer able to bear children. To man, on the contrary, nature has opposed no such obstacles at any period of his existence; a man should therefore have several wives.

“After all,” continued he, smiling significantly, “what have you to complain of, ladies? have we not acknowledged that you possess a soul? though certain philosophers, you know, have entertained doubts on this point. You aim at equality, but _that_ is madness: woman is our property, we are not hers; for it is she that gives us children, and not we to her; she is therefore the property of man, in the same manner as the fruit-tree is the property of the gardener. If the husband is unfaithful to his wife, and he confesses his fault and repents of it, there is an end of the matter; no trace of it is left: the wife is angry, forgives, or becomes reconciled; and not unfrequently is a gainer on the occasion. But the case is widely different when the wife is unmindful of the marriage vow; it is of no avail for her to repent; the consequences of her guilt are incalculable, the mischief irreparable, she must never, she can never, confess it. You will therefore agree with me, Ladies, that it can only be an error of judgment, the want of education, or the preponderance of vulgar notions, that can prompt a wife to believe herself the equal, in every respect, of her husband. There is, however, nothing disparaging in the inequality; each sex has its attributes and its duties; your attributes, Ladies, are beauty, grace, fascination; your duties, submission, and dependance, &c.”

After dinner, the Emperor desired my son to bring him the Memoirs of the Chevalier de Grammont and a volume of Voltaire’s plays. Having, as he said, imposed on himself the task of remaining up till eleven o’clock, the Emperor read for some time the Memoirs, observing that a very little could be rendered amusing when seasoned with genuine wit. He afterwards turned over Mahomet, Semiramis, and other plays of Voltaire’s, pointing out their faults and blemishes, and concluding, as he generally did, that Voltaire had no knowledge either of affairs, men, or the real passions of human nature.

THE EMPEROR RESUMES THE DICTATION OF HIS
MEMOIRS, &C.

Tuesday, 4th.—The Emperor sent for me at about four o’clock to take a ride in the calash. He told me he had at last been dictating again, and that what had been done would not be found devoid of interest. He added that he had been during the whole morning very much out of humour: that he had at first attempted to go out at about one o’clock, but that he had found himself compelled to return into the house, pursued by disgust and ennui; and that, not knowing what to do with himself, he had thought of resuming his dictations.

The Emperor had long since ceased to apply himself regularly to this occupation. Several months had already elapsed since my Campaigns of Italy were finished; the Campaign of Egypt which he had dictated to General Bertrand, was also completed; and General Gourgaud had been very ill. All these circumstances had concurred to cause interruptions, which had engendered disgust; the Emperor had not proceeded further, and could not summon courage to begin again.

I took advantage of what he had just said, to represent to him that to dictate was, for him, the surest, the only remedy against _ennui_, the only way in which he could beguile the tedious hours: and for us, the means of obtaining the inestimable advantage of being put in possession of treasures, in the existence of which the honour and glory of France were equally interested. I urged, that it was of paramount importance that he should continue to write his own history. “Each of us,” said I, "would willingly give his life to obtain it; it was due to his memory, to his family, to us. Where would his son find the events of his father’s life faithfully recorded? What pen could be found equal to the task of retracing them in a manner worthy of the subject? and yet, without such invaluable documents, how many events would be buried with Napoleon, and remain for ever unknown! We who surrounded him formerly, what did we _then_ know? how much had we not learnt here," &c. &c. The Emperor replied that he would continue his Memoirs, and consulted me as to the plan to be followed in digesting them; should they appear as a history? or as annals? He discussed the point for a long time, but without coming to any conclusion.

At dinner he said, “I have to-day been severely reprimanded on account of my idleness; I am therefore going to take to my task again, and embrace several periods at the same time: each of you shall have his share. Did not Herodotus,” said he, looking at me, “give to his books the names of the muses? I intend that each of mine shall bear the name of one of you. Even little Emmanuel shall give his to one of them. I will begin the history of the Consulate with Montholon, Gourgaud shall record the events of some other period, or detached battles; and little Emmanuel shall prepare the documents and materials of the epoch of the coronation.”

MILITARY SCHOOLS.—PLAN OF EDUCATION PRESCRIBED BY THE EMPEROR.—HIS
INTENTIONS IN BEHALF OF VETERANS.—CHANGES INTRODUCED IN THE MANNERS OF
THE CAPITAL.

Wednesday, 5th.—The Emperor went out at about four o’clock; he had been three hours in his bath, and did not feel well. Yet the weather was delightful; it was like a fine afternoon in Europe. We walked until we came up to the calash, and then took our usual drive. Our conversation turned upon the military school of Paris before the Revolution, and we contrasted the footing of luxury upon which we were placed at that school with the severe discipline introduced by the Emperor in these establishments during his reign.

At the military school of Paris we were treated in every respect like officers of fortune, boarded and waited upon in a style of great magnificence, greater indeed than the circumstances of most of our families warranted, and greater than most of us could hope to be able to keep up in after-life. The Emperor had been anxious, he said, to avoid falling into this error; he had wished, above all, that his young officers, who were one day to command soldiers, should begin by being soldiers themselves, and learn by experience all the technical details of the service: a system of education, he added, which must ever prove an immense advantage to an officer in the course of his future career, by enabling him to follow them and to enforce the observance of those details in others who are placed under his orders. It was on this principle that, at St. Germain, the young students were obliged to groom their own horses, taught to shoe them, &c. The same spirit presided over the regulations at St. Cyr: there several pupils were lodged together in one large apartment, a common mess was provided for all indiscriminately, &c.: yet the attention paid to these particulars was not suffered to interfere with the care bestowed upon the instruction necessary to qualify them for their future career: in short, they did not leave St. Cyr before they had really earned the rank of officers, and were found capable of leading and commanding soldiers. “And it must be admitted,” the Emperor observed, “that if the young men who passed from that institution, at its origin, into different corps of the army, were at first viewed with jealousy, ample justice was soon rendered to their discipline and to their abilities.”

The establishments of Ecouen, St. Denis and others, which the benevolent solicitude of Napoleon had created for the daughters of members of the legion of honour, were conducted upon principles of a similar nature. Some of the rules, made by the Emperor himself, ordered that every article for the use of the institution should be made in the house and by the hands of the pupils themselves, and forbade every species of luxury, extravagance in dress, and plays; the object being, he said, to form good housewives and respectable women.

Public opinion had given to Napoleon, at the time of his elevation, the reputation of a man of a harsh disposition and void of sensibility; yet it is certain that no sovereign ever acted more from the impulse of genuine feelings than he did; but, from a peculiar turn of mind, he concealed all emotions of the heart with as much care as others take to display them.

He had adopted all the children of the soldiers and officers killed at Austerlitz, and with him such an act was not one of mere form; he had provided for them all.

I heard the following anecdote from a young man who has related it to me since my return to Europe, with tears of gratitude. Having been fortunate enough, when yet very young, to attract the Emperor’s notice by some signal proof of his attachment; Napoleon asked him what profession he would wish to embrace; and, without waiting for his answer, pointed out one himself. The young man observed that his father’s fortune was not sufficient to allow him to follow it. “What signifies that?” replied the Emperor hastily: “Am I not also your father?” Those persons who have known Napoleon in his private life, who have lived near his person, can relate a thousand traits of the same kind.

He had done much for the army and the veterans, and proposed to do much more: every day some new thought tending to that object occupied his mind. The plan of a decree was one day laid before us in the Council of State, proposing that in future all vacant situations in the customs, the collection of the revenue, and the excise, should be given to wounded soldiers, or to veterans capable of filling them, from the private up to the highest ranks in the army. This plan being coldly received, the Emperor addressed one of those who opposed it in his usual manner, urging him to discuss the question freely, and state his opinion without reserve. “Sire,” answered M. Malouet, “my objection is that I fear the other classes of the nation will feel themselves aggrieved in seeing the army preferred to them.” “Sir,” replied the Emperor warmly, “you make a distinction which does not exist; the army no longer forms a separate class of the nation. In the situation in which we are now placed no member of the state is exempt from being a soldier; to follow a military career is no longer a matter of choice, it is one of necessity. The greatest number of those who are engaged in that career have been compelled to abandon their own profession against their will, it is therefore but justice that they should receive some kind of compensation for it.”—"But," again observes the member who opposed the plan, “will it not be inferred that your majesty intends that in future almost all vacant situations shall be given to soldiers?”—

“And such is indeed my intention,” said the Emperor. “Sir, the only question is, whether I have the right to do so, and whether I thereby commit an act of injustice? Now the constitution gives me the nomination to all places, and I think it a principle of strict equity that those who have suffered most have the greatest claims to be indemnified.” Then, raising his voice, he added, “Gentlemen, war is not a profession of ease and comfort: quietly seated on your benches here you know it only by reading our bulletins, or by hearing of our triumphs. You know nothing of our nightly watches, our forced marches, the sufferings and privations of every kind to which we are exposed: but I do know them, because I witness them, and sometimes share in them.”

This plan, however, like many others, was at last abandoned, after having been several times under discussion and variously modified; and the beneficent intentions of the Emperor were, I believe, not even known to the public, though he had appeared to take a lively interest in the passing of this decree, and had defended it in its most minute details.