Chapter II: Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MARSHAL BERTRAND.

_Published for Henry Colburn, March, 1836._
]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnote 4:

It is a singular fact that the person from whom I had this information
on agriculture, in Languedoc, was the identical M. de Villèle, who has
since become celebrated.

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

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

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

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

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

Footnote 5:

One day at Longwood running over the list of the senators who had
signed the deposition, one of us pointed out the name of M. de
Valence, signed as secretary. But another explained that this
signature was false, that M. de Valence had complained of it, and
protested against it. “It is very true,” said the Emperor, “I know it;
he has behaved well; Valence was true to the nation.”

_Map_
—of the—
ISLAND OF SAINT HELENA.

_Drawn for the
MEMORIAL DE SAINTE HÉLÈNE_,

_By an Engineer formerly of
Napoleon’s Cabinet from the information
contained in the work itself, and from
particulars furnished by
Mess^{rs}. Marchand, S^t Denis, Pierron,
and others in Napoleon’s service._
]

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

VERY CORRECT.

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

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

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

UNHEALTHINESS OF THE ISLAND.

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

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

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

REMARKS OF THE EMPEROR ON HIS EXPEDITION
IN THE EAST.

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

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

SUMMARY OF THE LAST NINE MONTHS.

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

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

On our landing we occupied Briars nearly two months.

Lastly, we have been three months at Longwood.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnote 6:

See the plan of Longwood.

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

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

Footnote 7:

I have since learned that this watch, the faithful companion of his
wonderful achievements during the Campaigns in Italy and Egypt, has
passed into the hands of the Grand Marshal.—The Emperor complained
that his watch did not go, or that it went ill; and we had in vain
endeavoured to get it set to rights: when one day, looking at a watch
which General Bertrand had just received from the Cape, he said: “I
shall keep this and give you mine: it does not go now, but it struck
two on the _plateau_ of Rivoli, when I gave orders for the operations
of the day.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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