Chapter III: Part 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Footnote 8:

Time, which explains all things, has shewn the little springs which
brought about one of our greatest catastrophes. I received the
following particulars from one who acted a part in the events of the
day:—

On hearing that Napoleon had arrived at the Elysée from Waterloo,
Fouché flew to the dissatisfied and suspicious Members of the Chambers
exclaiming, “To arms! He has returned desperate, and is about to
dissolve the Chambers and seize the dictatorship. We cannot endure the
restoration of tyranny.” He then hastened to the best friends of
Napoleon. “Are you aware,” said he, “what a terrible fermentation has
risen up against the Emperor among certain deputies? We can only save
Napoleon by facing them boldly, by showing them the full power of our
party, and how easily the Chambers may be dissolved.”

The friends of Napoleon, easily duped in this sudden crisis, failed
not to follow, perhaps even to overstep, the suggestions of Fouché,
who now returned to the distrustful party and said, “You see his best
friends are agreed on this point: the danger is urgent: and in a few
hours there will be no remedy. The Chambers will be no more, and we
shall be very culpable in letting slip the only opportunity of
opposing him.” Thus the permanence of the Chambers, the forced
abdication of the Emperor, and the downfall of a great empire, were
brought about by petty intrigue, by ante-chamber report and gossip.
Ah, Fouché! how well the Emperor knew you, when he said, that your
ugly foot was sure to be thrust into every body’s shoes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHARACTERISTIC TRAITS.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ch. Maurice de Talleyrand

Engraved by Thomson, from the Original Painting by F. Gérard
]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PAPERS FROM EUROPE.—POLITICAL REFLECTIONS.

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

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

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

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

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

THE GOVERNOR’S ARRIVAL.

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

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

THE EMPEROR’S PROGRESS IN LEARNING ENGLISH.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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