Chapter VII: Part 7

About five o’clock the Emperor received Captain Bowen, of the Salsette frigate, which is to sail to-morrow. He behaved very condescendingly to him. In the course of conversation the name of Lord St. Vincent, who the Captain said was his patron, happened to be mentioned, on which the Emperor remarked: “You will see him on your return to England, and I commission you to present my compliments to him, as to a good sailor, a brave and worthy veteran.”

About 7 o’clock the Emperor took a bath. He sent for me, and we conversed for a long time, first on the events of the day, then on literary subjects, and lastly on geography. He expressed his astonishment that we possessed no certain knowledge of the interior of Africa. I told him that I had entertained the idea, some years ago, of presenting to his Minister of Marine a plan of a journey into the interior of Africa; not a secret and adventurous excursion, but a regular military expedition, in every respect worthy of the age and of the Emperor. The Minister laughed in my face when I first conversed with him on the subject, and looked upon the idea as an absurdity.

My plan was to have entered Africa at once on the north, south, east, and west, and to have formed a junction in the centre; or, if starting only from the east and west, I proposed that the two divisions of the expedition should meet in the centre, separate again and proceed, one to the north, the other to the south. I thought it probable that, after obtaining from the Court of Portugal all the information that could be procured, it would be found that there already existed a communication from east to west, or that at all events very little was wanting to effect it. The state of public feeling at the time, our enthusiasm, our enterprizes, our prodigies, would have rendered it easy to procure 5 or 600 good soldiers, with the requisite number of surgeons, physicians, botanists, chymists, astronomers, and naturalists, all willing to embark in the enterprize, and we should undoubtedly have accomplished something worthy of the age.

The necessary supply of beasts of burthen, small leathern boats for crossing rivers, skins for conveying water through the deserts, and light manageable field-pieces, would have rendered the execution of the enterprize easy and complete.

“No doubt,” said the Emperor, “your idea would have pleased me. I should have taken it up, submitted it to the consideration of a committee, and brought it to a result.”

He said that he very much regretted his not having had time, during his stay in Egypt, to accomplish something of this sort. He had troops suited in every respect to brave the dangers of the desert. He had received presents from the Queen of Darfour, and had sent her some in return. Had he remained longer, he intended to have carried to a great extent our geographical investigations in the northern district of Africa, and that too by the simplest means, merely by placing in each caravan some intelligent officers, for whom he would have procured hostages.

The conversation then turned on the marine department. The Emperor entered very deeply into the subject. He could not say that he was satisfied with Decrès; and he even thought that the confidence he reposed in him was not altogether irreproachable. The difficulty of finding persons better qualified maintained him in his post; for, after all, the Emperor said, Decrès was the best he could find. Ganteaume was merely a sailor, and destitute of every other talent. Cafarelli, he said, had forfeited his good opinion, because he had been informed that his wife intrigued in political affairs, which he regarded as an unpardonable offence. Missiessi was not a man to be depended on; for his family had been one of those who surrendered Toulon. The Emperor had, for a moment, cast his eye on Emériau; but, on consideration, he did not think that he possessed adequate capabilities. He had asked himself whether T...... might not have filled the post; but he decided that he was not qualified for it. He was a good man of business, it is true; but he had plunged very deeply into the affairs of the revolution; and what had confirmed the Emperor in his disapproval of him was that he had subsequently seen some of his private letters, by which it was evident that he still adhered to his old jacobinical sentiments.

“I had,” observed the Emperor, “rendered the duties of all my ministerial posts so easy that almost any one was capable of discharging them, if he possessed only fidelity, zeal, and activity. I must however except the office of Minister of Foreign Affairs, in which it was frequently necessary to exercise a ready talent for persuasion. In fact,” continued he, “in the marine department but little was required, and Decrès was perhaps, after all, the best man I could have found. He possessed authority; and he discharged the business of his office scrupulously and honestly. He was endowed with a good share of understanding, but this was evinced only in his conversation and private conduct. He never conceived any plan of his own, and was incapable of executing the ideas of others on a grand scale; he could walk, but he could never be made to run. He ought to have passed one-half of his time in the sea-ports, or on board the exercising squadrons. He would have lost none of my favour by so doing. But, as a courtier, he was afraid to quit his portfolio. This shews how little he knew me. He would not have been the less protected by removing from my Court: his absence would have been a powerful circumstance in his favour.”

The Emperor said he very much regretted Latouche-Tréville, whom he regarded as a man of real talent. He was of opinion that that Admiral would have given a different impulse to affairs. The attack on India and the invasion of England would by him have been at least attempted, and perhaps accomplished.

The Emperor blamed himself for having employed the pinnaces at Bologne. He said it would have been better had he employed real ships at Cherbourg. He was of opinion that had Villeneuve manifested more vigour at Cape Finistèrre, the attack might have been rendered practicable. “I had made arrangements for the arrival of Villeneuve, with considerable art and calculation, and in defiance of the opinions and the routine of the naval officers by whom I was surrounded. Every thing happened as I had foreseen; when the inactivity of Villeneuve ruined all. But,” added the Emperor, "Heaven knows what instructions he might have received from Decrès,[10] or what letters might have been privately written to him which never came to my knowledge; for, though I was very powerful and fond of searching into every thing, yet I am convinced that I was far from knowing all that was passing around me.

Footnote 10:

On reading this reflection of Napoleon’s, an officer in the confidence
of Admiral Villeneuve wrote to me that the letter of Decrès to that
Admiral before the arrival of M. de Rosilly, appointed to supersede
him, concluded thus;—"Sail as soon as you find a favourable
opportunity: do not shun the enemy; on the contrary attack him
wherever you fall in with him, since the Emperor cares little about
losing ships, so he loses them with honour." This letter was the only
one which the officer in question saved from the Admiral’s portfolio,
before he threw it into the sea, at the moment of striking the flag.

"The Grand Marshal said, the other day, that it used to be remarked in the saloon of the household that I was never accessible to any one after I had given audience to the Minister of the Marine. The reason was, because he never had any but bad news to communicate to me. For my part I gave up every thing after the disaster of Trafalgar; I could not be every where, and I had enough to occupy my attention with the armies of the continent.

"I had long meditated a decisive expedition to India; but my plans had been constantly frustrated. I intended to have fitted out a force of 16,000 troops, on board ships of the line; each 74 to have taken 500 troops on board, which would of course have required thirty-two ships. I proposed that they should take in a supply of water for four months; which supply might have been renewed at the Isle of France, or in any habitable spot of the desert of Africa, Brazil, or the Indian Ocean. In case of need, they might have taken in water wherever they chose to anchor. On reaching the place of their destination, the troops were to be put ashore, and the ships were immediately to depart, making up the number of their crews by the sacrifice of seven or eight of the vessels which might be condemned as unserviceable; so that an English squadron arriving from Europe immediately afterwards would have found no trace of ours.

“As for the army, when abandoned to itself and placed under the command of a clever and confidential chief, it would have renewed the prodigies that were familiar to us, and Europe would have beheld the conquest of India as she had already seen the conquest of Egypt.”

I knew Decrès well; we had both commenced our career together in the marine. I think he entertained for me all the friendship of which he was susceptible, and I, on my part, was tenderly attached to him. It was an unfortunate passion, as I used to say when I was rallied on the subject, which was frequently the case, for Decrès was very much disliked, and I have often thought that, from some motive or other, he took pleasure in his own unpopularity. At St. Helena, as elsewhere, I found myself almost his only defender. I saw a great deal of him while the Emperor was at the island of Elba, and he was occasionally favourable to Napoleon. We conversed candidly on the subject, and I have every reason to believe that he observed full and entire confidence with respect to me.

“No sooner had your Majesty returned to the Tuileries,” said I to the Emperor, "than Decrès and I ran to embrace each other, exclaiming, ‘He has returned! we have him again!’ His eyes were suffused with tears; I must bear this testimony to his feelings. ‘Well,’ said he to me, in the presence of his wife, ‘I am now convinced that I have often done you wrong, and I owe you reparation; but your old habits and connections so naturally brought you in contact with those who are now about to quit us that I doubted not but you would sooner or later be perfectly reconciled with them, though you were perhaps often offended at the expression of my real sentiments.’”—“And did you believe this, you simpleton?" exclaimed the Emperor, bursting into a fit of laughter. “This was an excellent piece of courtier-like art; a touch for La Bruyère. It was really a good idea on the part of Decrès; for if, during my absence, any thing offensive to me had chanced to escape him, he would, you see, by this means, have atoned for it once for all.”—"Well, Sire," continued I, "what I have just told you is perhaps only amusing; but what I will now communicate is of a more important nature:—During the crisis of 1814, before the taking of Paris, Decrès was sounded in a very artful way as to his inclination to conspire against your Majesty, and he honestly repelled the suggestion. Decrès was easily and often roused to discontent; and he possessed a certain air of authority in his language and manners which rendered him a useful acquisition to any party he might espouse. He happened, at the unhappy period I have just mentioned, to visit a person of celebrity; the hero of the machinations of the day. The latter advanced to Decrès, and, drawing him aside to the fire-place, took up a book, saying, I have just now been reading something that struck me forcibly,—you shall hear it. Montesquiou, in such and such a chapter and page, says,—When the Prince rises above the laws, when tyranny becomes insupportable, the oppressed have no alternative but....—‘Enough,’ exclaimed Decrès, putting his hand over the mouth of the reader; ‘I will hear no more; close the book.’ And the other coolly laid down the volume, as though nothing particular had occurred, and began to talk on a totally different subject."

On another occasion, a certain Marshal, after his fatal defection, alarmed at the unfavourable impression which his conduct was calculated to produce on the public mind, and vainly seeking the approbation and support of those who surrounded him, endeavoured to interest Decrès in his favour. “I have always borne in mind,” said he to Decrès, “one of our conversations in which you so energetically painted the evils and perplexities that weighed upon the country. The force of your arguments greatly influenced me in the step which I took with the view of alleviating our misfortunes.”—"Yes, my dear fellow," replied Decrès; “but did it not also occur to you that you overshot your mark?”

“In order that these anecdotes may be appreciated as they deserve,” said I to the Emperor, “I must inform your Majesty that they were related to me by Decrès himself during your absence, and when he certainly entertained no idea of your return.”

The Emperor kept up the conversation for nearly two hours in the bath. He did not dine till nine o’clock, and he desired me to stay with him. We discoursed about the military school at Paris. I left the school only a year before Napoleon entered it, and therefore the same officers, tutors, and comrades were common to us both. He took particular pleasure in reverting with me to this period of our youth: in reviving the recollection of our occupations, our boyish tricks, our games, &c.

In this cheerful humour, he called for a glass of Champagne, which was rather an unusual thing; for such is his habitual abstinence that a single glass of wine is sufficient to flush his face, and to render him very talkative. It is well known that he seldom sits longer than a quarter of an hour, or half an hour, at table; but to-day we sat upwards of two hours. He was very much surprised when Marchand informed him that it was eleven o’clock. “How rapidly the time has slipped away,” said he, with an expression of satisfaction. “Why can I not always pass my hours thus agreeably! My dear Las Cases,” said he, as he dismissed me, “you leave me happy.”

DANGEROUS ILLNESS OF MY SON.—REMARKABLE OBSERVATIONS.—THE DICTIONARY OF
WEATHERCOCKS.—BERTHOLET.

13th. Dr. Warden and two other medical gentlemen came to hold a consultation on my son, whose indisposition alarmed me.

The Emperor, at my request, consented to receive Dr. Warden, our old acquaintance of the Northumberland. He conversed for upwards of two hours, familiarly taking a review of those acts of his government which had drawn upon him the greatest share of enmity, falsehood, and calumny. As the Doctor afterwards observed to me, nothing could be more correct, clear, simple, curious, and satisfactory, than these details.

The Emperor concluded with the following remarkable observations: “I concern myself but little about the libels that have been written against me. My acts and the events of my reign refute them more completely than the most skilful arguments that could be employed. I seated myself on a vacant throne. I arrived at supreme power unsullied by the crimes that have usually disgraced the chiefs of dynasties. Let history be consulted, let me be compared with others! If I have to fear the reproaches of posterity and history, it is not for having been too severe but perhaps for having been too indulgent!”

After dinner, the Emperor looked at the _Dictionnaire des Girouettes_ (Dictionary of Weathercocks) which is humourously conceived, though not so well executed. It is an alphabetic collection of the living characters who have figured on the stage of public events since the Revolution, and whose language, opinions, and conduct have followed the changes of the wind. Weathercocks are affixed to their names, with an abstract of the speeches or a description of the acts which have procured for them the distinction. On opening the work, the Emperor inquired whether any of us were mentioned in it. “No Sire,” some one present jokingly replied, “none save your Majesty.” The name of Napoleon was indeed recorded in the work, because, as it was affirmed, he had first sanctioned the republic and then assumed the prerogative of royalty.

The Emperor read to us several articles from the Dictionary. The contrast exhibited at different times in the language and conduct of certain individuals was truly curious; and the transition was in some instances performed with so much coolness and effrontery that the Emperor several times suspended his reading and burst into a hearty fit of laughter. However, after going through a few pages, he closed the book, with an expression of disgust and regret, observing that, after all, the publication was a disgrace to society, a code of turpitude, and a record of our dishonour. One article seemed to affect him deeply, namely, that concerning Bertholet, whom he had so loaded with favour, and on whom, he said, he had every reason to rely.

The following charming trait in the Emperor’s character may be mentioned here, though it is pretty generally known. Bertholet had sustained losses which involved him in difficulties, when, the circumstance having come to the Emperor’s knowledge, he sent him 100,000 crowns, adding, that he had reason to complain of him, since he seemed to have forgotten that he, Napoleon, was always ready to serve his friends. Bertholet, however, behaved very ungratefully to the Emperor, at the period of his disasters. His conduct deeply affected Napoleon at the time, and he was often heard to exclaim: “What Bertholet, on whom I thought I could rely with such confidence!...”

On the Emperor’s return from Elba, Bertholet seemed again inclined to manifest his former sentiments of attachment to his benefactor. He ventured to show himself at the Tuileries, and desired Monge to inform the Emperor that, if he did not obtain a sight of him, he would put a period to his existence the moment he left the palace. The Emperor could not refuse his request, and saluted him with a smile as he passed by.

During his reign, the Emperor had conferred repeated favours on several great manufacturers, among others on Oberkamp, Richard Lenoir, &c. He wished to look for their names in the Dictionary, but every voice was raised to bear witness to their good conduct.

RECEPTION OF THE PASSENGERS IN THE BENGAL
FLEET.

14th.—About four o’clock a great number of visitors came to Longwood, They were passengers who had arrived by the East India Fleet, and the Emperor had signified his willingness to receive them. The party consisted of Mr. Strange, the brother-in-law of Lord Melville, First Lord of the English Admiralty; a Mr. Arbuthnot; and Sir William Burroughs, one of the Judges of the Supreme Court of Calcutta; two of Lord Moira’s Aides-de-camp; and some others, together with several ladies. We were all conversing together in the ante-chamber, when the Emperor left his own room to proceed to the garden. This circumstance excited the curiosity of our visitors, who eagerly flew to the windows to see him pass by:—the scene reminded us of Plymouth. The Grand Marshal conducted our visitors to the presence of the Emperor, who received them with the most perfect grace, and with that captivating smile which has exercised such irresistible power. Curiosity and lively emotion were painted in the countenances of all.

The Emperor conversed with each individual, and, according to custom, instantly seized any circumstance that happened to be connected with their names, as he heard them announced. He discoursed with the Supreme Judge on legislation and the administration of justice; with the Company’s officers on trade and the internal Government of India. He questioned the military gentlemen as to how many years they had served and how many wounds they had received; he paid many flattering compliments to the ladies, and remarked, that the climate of Bengal had not spoiled the delicacy of their complexions, &c. Then, addressing himself to one of Lord Moira’s aides-de-camp, he observed that the Grand Marshal had informed him that Lady Loudon was on the Island, and that, had she been within his limits, he should have had great pleasure in paying his respects to her; but that, as she happened to reside beyond the boundaries which had been prescribed to him, he had no more opportunity of seeing her than if she were still in Bengal.

During these conversations, in which I acted as interpreter, Mr. Strange, with whom I had previously been talking, drew me aside by the flap of my coat, and in a tone of surprise and satisfaction said:—"What grace and dignity of manner the Emperor displays!—he shows that he has been accustomed to the etiquette of holding a levee!"

We conducted the company to the drawing-room, and curiosity led them to take a peep at the Emperor’s apartments. Sir William Burroughs, who, from the post he holds, may be supposed to have some connection with the English ministry, on entering the drawing-room asked me whether it was our dining-room. I informed him that it was the drawing-room, or that we might more properly say, it was the only room in the house; at this he was much astonished. I then pointed out to him through the window, the two little chambers which are all the Emperor has for his own use. His countenance expressed regret, and he seemed, in his own mind to be drawing comparisons between the present and the past. Remarking the wretchedness of the furniture and the narrow limits of our abode, he said, with an air of concern—"You will be better provided for soon."—"How," said I, “is there any intention of removing us from the Island?”—"No, but some elegant furniture and a commodious house are to be sent to you."—"We do not," I replied, “complain of the furniture, or the house; but of the rock to which we have been banished, and the latitude in which it is situated. This latitude cannot be changed and we can never be well here.”

I repeated to him literally what the Emperor had, a few days previously said to the Governor on the same subject. Sir William was amazed, and, pressing my hand, he said with a degree of warmth:—"My dear Sir, he is too great and too gifted a man; we have too much cause to dread and fear him."—"But," said I, in my turn, “why not have driven the car of glory together, instead of mutually destroying each other by dragging it different ways? What might not then have been its course?” He looked at me, and again pressing my hand, he said with a pensive air:—"Yes, that would doubtless have been better; but...."

All were particularly struck with the Emperor’s freedom of manner, and his tranquil expression of countenance. I know not what they had expected to see. One remarked that he could scarcely form a conception of the strength of mind necessary to enable Napoleon to endure such wonderful reverses. “That is,” replied I, "because nobody yet well knows the Emperor’s character. He told us the other day that he had been like a block of marble during all the great events of his life; that they had slipped over him without producing any impression either on his moral or physical faculties."

After dinner, the Emperor asked us, as he often does, what we should like to read. Some one proposed that we should resume the Dictionary of Weathercocks; but this the Emperor objected to, on the ground that it served but to render his evenings the more unpleasant. “Rather let us amuse ourselves with fiction,” said he; and, asking for Jerusalem Delivered, he read aloud several cantos of that poem, occasionally translating passages into French. He then read the chief part both of Phedre and Athalie, always expressing his great admiration of the writings of Racine.

EQUALITY OF PUNISHMENTS.—THE EMPEROR REQUIRES ME TO GIVE HIM A DETAILED
HISTORY OF MY ATLAS.

15th.—The Emperor, during his walk, conversed on various subjects, and at length happened to light on that of crimes and punishments. He observed that the greatest jurists, even those who had been influenced by the spirit of the age, were divided as to the principle of the equalization of capital punishments. At the establishment of the Code, he should have been averse to equalization, had not circumstances obliged him to adopt a contrary course. He asked my opinion: “I am,” said I, "decidedly favourable to the inequality of punishments. Our notions demand a gradation in punishments, analogous to that which we conceive in crimes. The harmony of our sensations seems to require this. I can never bring myself to rank on a level with each other the wretch who has murdered his father and him who has merely committed a slight robbery accompanied by violence. Should these two criminals be visited by the same punishment?

“In this question the criminal himself is least of all to be considered. The punishment is his business; and humanity discovers many hidden modes of relieving his physical suffering. His ideas previously to the commission of the crime, the feelings which his punishment creates in the minds of the spectators, and the effect it produces on society in general:—these are the points which must claim the attention of the legislator in deciding the question of the equalization of punishments. It is erroneous to suppose that death alone is sufficient, and that the kind of death has no influence on the mind of the criminal in the premeditation of his crime; for if there be inequality of punishment, there is no culprit who would not make his choice if he were permitted so to do. Let any member of society consult his own feelings: he would shudder at the very idea of certain punishments, while perhaps he would be totally indifferent to certain modes of death. The inequality of punishments and the solemnity of executions belong therefore to the justice and policy of civilization. Yet I conceive that it would now be impossible to subdue public opinion on this point.”[11]

Footnote 11:

I must however confess that my opinion is likely to be erroneous, if,
as I have been informed, the statements of the registers in France,
since the introduction of the equalization of punishments, when
compared with those drawn up during a similar interval under the old
penal laws, present a diminution in the number of criminals.

The Emperor entirely concurred in these ideas. Having mentioned the crime of regicide, he observed that it might truly be said to be the greatest of all crimes, owing to the consequences which it produced. “The man,” said he, “who should have murdered me in France would have subverted all Europe; and how many times have I not been exposed to assassination!”

Lady Loudon, wife of Lord Moira, the Governor-General of India, has been for several days at St. Helena, where she attracts general attention. She is a lady of high rank, corresponding nearly with a French Duchess under the old regime. The English officers treat her with the utmost respect. To-day the Admiral invited her to a little entertainment on board the Northumberland. He sent a messenger on horseback to request me to lend him my Atlas for the evening, in order that he might shew it to Lady Loudon, whose husband was described in it as the first representative of the Plantagenets, and consequently as the legitimate heir to the throne of England.

The Admiral and I were on a footing of perfect indifference; indeed we had been nearly strangers to each other since the moment he put me ashore. The request was not so much a mark of politeness to me, as a compliment to the work itself. The Atlas had been the subject of conversation, the lady had expressed a wish to see it, and the Admiral felt a desire to shew it to her. However, I was unable to satisfy this desire. The book was in the Emperor’s chamber, and such was the answer I returned.

The Emperor smiled at the honour which the Admiral had intended for me; and I could not help pitying the amusement that had been prepared for the lady. This circumstance led the Emperor himself to speak of the Atlas, and to repeat some observations which had fallen from him before. He remarked that he heard my work spoken of at all times and in all places; that he found it sought after by foreigners as well as Frenchmen. He had heard it mentioned on board the Bellerophon and the Northumberland, at the Island of St. Helena, and, in short, every where, persons of information and rank either knew the work, or expressed a wish to become acquainted with it. “This,” said he, in a lively strain, “is what I call enjoying a real triumph, a great reputation in the literary world. I wish you would give me the history of this Atlas. Tell me when and how you conceived the idea of it, the manner in which it was executed, and its results: why you first of all published it under a fictitious name, and why you did not afterwards affix your real name to it: in short, give me a true and particular account; you understand, Mr. Councillor of State?”

I replied that it would be a long story; though to me the recital would not be devoid of pleasure; for, I added, that my Atlas was the history of a great portion of my life, and that, above all, I was indebted to it for the happiness of being now near the person of the Emperor.

The following is the narrative, such as it appeared when corrected after my first hasty notes. Its length, doubtless, requires indulgence; but this I trust the reader will be inclined to grant, on consideration that the details which I here enter into revive the recollection of my happiest years, of the period of my youth, my health and strength, in a word, of the dear but brief interval of the plenitude of life. I once more entreat the reader to pardon the prolixity in which I have indulged; but this statement so forcibly revives my recollections of past happiness that even now, on reading it over, I cannot find it in my heart to cancel any part of it.

"This Work was partly the fruit of chance; but above all, of necessity, which, as the common proverb says, is the mother of industry.... At the time of the first reverses of the French emigrants, I was cast by the political hurricane in the streets of London, without friends, without money, and without resources; but possessing the requisite courage and willingness for exertion. To a man animated by such a spirit, London, at that time, afforded certain sources of emolument.

"After having unsuccessfully made several applications, I determined to rely on myself alone, and, like Figaro, I decided on turning author. For a moment, I had thoughts of becoming a romance writer: this idea was suggested to me by the proposals of a bookseller; but he required too much and was inclined to pay too little. I then turned my thoughts to writing history, which, at all events, was calculated to procure for me a certain moral advantage, by storing my mind with positive knowledge. It was then I conceived the first idea of my Atlas, which I may truly regard as an inspiration from Heaven, for to it I owed my life. The work was at first a simple sketch, a mere nomenclature, very different from the form in which it now appears. However, it sufficed immediately to relieve me from embarrassment, and to secure to me what might be called a little fortune, in comparison with the miseries endured by the other emigrants. Then, Sire, came the Peace of Amiens, and the benefits conferred on us by your amnesty. I was enabled to make a journey to France, merely as a traveller, having no other object in view than to breathe my native air and to see the French capital. There I found myself at liberty to express my sentiments without restraint; investigation was easy; my ideas and my judgment were enlarged; I was master of my time, and I undertook to arrange my Atlas in the form in which it now appears. I proposed publishing regularly four sheets per quarter. I was now vastly improved both in my mind and circumstances. Interest, attention, good offers, money and connexions, poured in upon me; and I may confidently affirm that this was the happiest period of my life.

"In England, I had published my Work under a feigned name, in order to avoid compromising the honour of my own. I happened to fix upon Le Sage, just as I might have decided on Leblanc, Legris, or Lenoir. But I could not have made a more unlucky choice, or, at least, I could not have assumed a more general appellation. Sometime afterwards, a letter intended for me passed through all the different colonies of French emigrants in London, and was delivered by turns to twenty-two priests, who all bore the name of Le Sage. At length one, who had apparently discovered that the name did not belong to me, sent me the letter in a violent rage, observing that, when people thought proper to change their names, they should at least avoid taking those that belonged to other persons.

"In France I still preserved the name of Le Sage, which had now become identified with my Atlas. To have published it under a new name might have led to the supposition that it was a new work. Besides, I did not wish to expose my own name to the chance of failure, to the attacks of the Journals, or to the bickerings of criticism. Even though I had been assured of the complete success of the work, I should not probably have felt the more inclined to affix my real name to it, owing to a remnant of my old prejudices, of which I could not easily divest myself.

"Certainly this literary fame flattered me not a little; but I had sprung from a warlike race, and I conceived that I was in duty bound to pursue fame of another kind. However, circumstances rendered this impossible, and I think it proper to mention that at least I was not unconscious of the duty. I never had cause to repent of my double appellation. Independently of my real motive for assuming it, it diffused around me an air of adventure and romance which was by no means disagreeable, and which was moreover in unison with my temper and character. It occasioned many mistakes and humourous scenes which afforded me considerable amusement. In England, for example, I have often, when in company, been questioned in the most innocent way imaginable respecting the merits of M. Le Sage’s work; and at a boarding-school I was once addressed in very discourteous language, because I obstinately persisted in condemning my own Atlas.

"So long as I continued myself to manage the publication of the work, my method was to treat in person with all who offered to set their names down as subscribers. I had now no favours to solicit; I rather found it necessary in some instances to guard against receiving those that were offered. In France particularly I was overwhelmed with acts of kindness and flattering compliments. Some paid me these attentions because they knew me, others precisely because they did not know me; and all because I conducted myself alike to each. For my part, I enjoyed the curious spectacle that now presented itself to me. As every one who wished to become a subscriber was obliged to give in his own name, I took a review of many characters, whom I well knew, and observed them in silence. I was thus enabled to meditate at my ease on the curious diversity of opinion, judgment, and taste. The point which one condemned was precisely that which another most admired, which a third declared to be indispensable, and which a fourth pronounced to be inadmissible. Each according to custom failed not to set forth his own opinion as the prevailing one: it was the sentiment of all Paris and of every body.

"I had now an opportunity of being convinced of the great advantage that a man derives from superintending his own business himself, and of the important influence of politeness and good manners in all the affairs of life. I acceded to every thing that was proposed, I received every hint that was suggested, and I was repaid a hundred-fold for my complaisance. It frequently happened that a person who had called on me, without any intention of purchasing the work, was not only induced to carry it away with him, but brought me ten, twenty, or even a hundred, additional subscribers.

"One described my Atlas as a classic work to the Minister of the Interior; another recommended it to the Minister for Foreign Affairs; a third promised to procure for me the decoration of the Legion of Honour, and a fourth wrote a flattering critique on the work, and got it inserted in the public journals. Some carried their interest and attachment for me even to a degree of enthusiasm. Of this the following are instances. One of my provincial subscribers, who was unacquainted with me, wrote to request, as a particular favour, that I would get my portrait engraved to embellish the work, offering, in case I acceded to the proposition, to defray half the expenses of the engraving. Another, who was the owner of the Chateau de Montmorency, paid me a visit every week under pretence of enquiring whether I had got a new sheet of my Atlas ready for publication, but in reality, as he himself assured me, to pass his happiest hours in my society. He added that, if ever I should take a fancy to sell my conversation as I did the sheets of my work, it was in my power, if I chose, to ruin him. I afterwards learned that this was a man of a very eccentric turn; one of La Bruyere’s characters; quite after the manner of Jean-Jacques. For a considerable time he seemed to rack his invention to make me offers of service in the most delicate way imaginable: he even went so far as to throw out paternal suggestions to me. ‘M. Le Sage,’ said he, oftener than once ‘you ought to marry. You possess qualities that are calculated to insure the happiness of a wife, and still more that of a father-in-law.’ I must not omit to mention that the old gentleman had but one daughter, and she was a rich heiress. However, the warmth of our intimacy gradually abated, till at length I entirely lost the acquaintance. It was not until a considerable time afterwards that, being on a country excursion with a party of ladies, the sight of the Chateau de Montmorency revived the recollection of my old friend. I related the history of his eccentricities to the ladies who accompanied me: their curiosity was excited, and we determined to visit the chateau. The porter refused to admit us. On my enquiring whether the gentleman was at his country residence, I received for answer that he was there, and that this was precisely the reason why we could not be admitted. I thought it very extraordinary that he should thus immure himself and render himself totally inaccessible. With considerable difficulty I prevailed on the servant to announce M. Le Sage. The sound of the name operated like enchantment; the affront offered to an elegant calash and rich liveries was immediately repaired. The gates were thrown open, apparently to the no small astonishment of the porter. The servants received orders to show us over the building and to offer us every kind of refreshment. We had brought with us in the carriage provisions for a little rural repast; but a sumptuous dinner was laid out for us in one of the best apartments; and we could not, with any thing like a good grace, decline accepting what was so politely offered. All this hospitality was perfectly disinterested on the part of the worthy old gentleman, who was confined to his chamber by the gout. He was overjoyed at seeing me; and he seemed to regard my visit as the return of the prodigal son. He insisted on seeing the ladies who accompanied me, and was carried into the dining-room to do the honours of the dessert. One thing that amused us infinitely was that he seemed to have no idea of the rank of the friends by whom I was accompanied; and he treated them like persons of inferior rank, though they were in reality ladies of distinction. The old gentleman would now scarcely allow me to depart; he insisted on my repeating my visit, and said, that I and all my friends should ever be welcome to his residence. But alas! I could not avail myself of his kindness; for a few days afterwards I read in the papers an account of the death of this kind and sincere friend.

"From the commencement of my greatness, I may, under every point of view, date the termination of the golden age of my Atlas. When I was transplanted to Court and permitted to approach your Majesty’s person, I conceived that I could not with propriety descend to the details that had hitherto occupied me. I confided the management of the copyright to one of my old college companions, who had been an emigrant like myself, but who did not turn the publication to so good an account as I had done.

"On entering upon my new post at Court, I was loaded with compliments on my production; but to these I replied indifferently, and just as one would do at a ball, after dropping one’s mask. When it was found that I never alluded to my work, that I never quoted from it, and that I avoided all discussion on it, I was never spoken to on the subject; and at length people began to wonder how I had ever written it, and indeed to doubt whether I had any right at all to be considered as its author.

"On hearing these words, the Emperor said to me, ‘My dear Las Cases, even this doubt has found its way to St. Helena. I have heard it affirmed that the work was not written by you, that you purchased the manuscript from the real author; and in support of this assertion it has been remarked that you know nothing at all about the book, because you never speak of it. To these observations,’ continued he, ‘I have merely contented myself with saying, Did you never know any question to remain without a complete answer? Besides I recognise throughout the whole work the style, the very expressions, of Las Cases.’

“Many,” said I, resuming my narrative, "will think I injured myself by this denial; but I preferred good taste to quackery, and I was only acting according to the dictates of my natural disposition. Your Majesty was the other day describing how Syees used to present himself loaded with written plans, and at the very first word of contradiction, as soon as he found it necessary to act on the defensive, he would gather up his papers and be off in a moment. This was precisely my feeling. I never could stand up publicly to support my opinions. Before I could do this, I must enjoy the authority of rank or the freedom of intimate friendship: otherwise I prefer dooming myself to silence, that is to say, when I am not interrogated and urged to the point. But to return to my subject.

"So long as I remained in obscurity I enjoyed the good-will of every one; but my elevation rendered me an object of enmity, and I felt the influence of that vague feeling of envy and malevolence which ever follows the footsteps of fortune. The public journals, which for a length of time had overflowed with flattery and agreeable expressions in favour of the Historical Atlas, now inserted some very ill-natured articles respecting the work, and when these were traced to their source, the writers frankly avowed that they had been occasioned solely by changes that had taken place in political opinions and public affairs.

"A report was delivered to the Institute of all the works that had appeared for several years past; and in this report the Atlas was very severely treated. Happening to be one day in company with the writer of this report, to whom I was known only by the name of Le Sage, I expressed to him my dissatisfaction at what he had said of the Atlas. He candidly confessed that the work and its author were alike unknown to him; that, having found the labour of writing the report too much for him, he had divided the task among several other persons. He informed me that the article on Le Sage’s Atlas was infinitely more severe when delivered to him than it appeared as inserted in the report. He had softened it down considerably. ‘I can easily perceive,’ continued he, ‘that you have enemies in the literary world, and for these you are indebted to your habits and your situation. You have connected yourself with a Count somebody, who holds places at Court; but courtiers and authors never agree well together. Those gentlemen are, for the most part, very unlike us. It is said that, in this curious partnership, you supply the talent and he provides the money. What is the use of that? The Count is only making his profit of you; your work is good, and your bookseller would have remunerated you for it. However, I am only repeating what I have heard, and I advise you to what I conceive to be your interest. If you wish to enjoy our suffrage, you must connect yourself with us, you must identify yourself with our doctrines, and leave the great folks to themselves.’

"I replied, with all possible civility, that I was certainly indebted to him for his kind advice, though it was not just then in my power to follow it. I assured him that he had formed an unfair opinion of my friend; that our purses and our very lives were common to each other; that our friendship and intimacy were indissoluble; that we had vowed to live and die together, and that nothing could induce us to break that vow. It was altogether a truly comic scene.

"Some time afterwards I was dining at the table of a Prince: I was seated beside my illustrious host, and wore a uniform covered with lace. The member of the Institute was one of the guests. Surprise and embarrassment were portrayed in his countenance. I spoke to him several times; but he always drew close to his neighbours, whispering to them, and apparently making enquiries. After dinner, he came up to me, and very good-humouredly begged me to relieve him from his perplexity. He said that he perfectly recollected having had the honour of meeting me before, but that he was quite at a loss to comprehend the trick that I had played upon him. I disclaimed any intention of hoaxing him. ‘All that you have seen,’ said I, ‘and all that I have told you, is nothing but reality and truth. The mystery is easily solved. You then saw M. Le Sage who supplies the talent, and you now see M. Le Comte who provides the funds. You now understand how histories are written, and I have learned how reports are made out.’

“An equally ridiculous mistake procured for M. Le Sage in the famous Yellow Dwarf, the honour of being set down as a Weathercock, in quality of genealogist of the order under the humorous name of _Parvulus Sapiens_ (Little Le Sage). For this favour, as I afterwards learned, I was indebted to the suppression that was made during the King’s reign of the genealogy of your Majesty, whose descent I was supposed to have traced from Æneas and Ascanuis. It is difficult to conceive what could have been meant by all this, as there was nothing in the Atlas that could either directly or indirectly have suggested such an idea. However, at all the various times at which the Atlas and its author were assailed, numerous zealous and fervent partisans enquired whether I would be pleased to permit them to take up my defence. I invariably desired that the subject might be dropped; I conceived that, by thus occupying public attention, I should surely endanger my own tranquillity. I smiled at the ill-natured attacks that were made on poor M. Le Sage; but I should have been very sorry to have seen them extended to his _alias_.

“If however my Atlas enjoyed this general and extensive success, it certainly deserved it. The work is indeed adapted to every age, to every country, to every period; it is suited to all opinions, classes and plans of education. It is an assistant to him who wishes to learn, and a remembrancer to him who has learned. It is a guide to the scholar and an illustrator to the master. It embraces chronology, history, geography, politics, &c. To those who understand it, and know how to use it, it may be truly said to compose a whole library in itself. It is the _vade mecum_ of the pupil and the tutor, of the scholar and the man of business.

“Thus it had an immediate sale, and never, I imagine, did any literary work prove so productive to its author. On its first appearance, the daily subscriptions frequently amounted to 2 or 300 louis. During the period when I personally superintended the publication, I calculated that the receipts constituted a yearly income of at least 60 or 80,000 francs. It procured me a fortune. I had no other, for the Revolution had deprived me of my patrimony, which I had afterwards no hope of recovering; for I had been obliged to renounce it upon oath, before I could be permitted to set foot on the French territory.

“There have been published 8 or 10,000 copies of my Atlas in various editions; and their sale has thrown into circulation 8 or 900,000, perhaps a million of francs, out of which there has been a clear profit of 300,000 francs now in my hands. This constitutes my whole fortune, for I possess nothing that has not arisen out of my Atlas, and that may not be included in its accounts. On my departure from Europe, the sum of 150,000 francs was due to me in outstanding debts, either good or bad; and I possessed a collection of books obtained by exchange, worth 200,000 francs; which being divided into lots of 1000 crowns each, and exported to foreign countries, seemed to promise certain returns. But, unfortunately, out of all this brilliant produce, I can now only reckon upon what I have already in my hands; the rest is involved in so many chances that I cannot but consider it as lost. I have no agent in Europe to manage my affairs, for I had not time to make arrangements for that purpose; and the details are so numerous, scattered, and diversified, that I could not possibly give any one a clue to follow. The outstanding debts are growing old; some of my debtors are dead, some have left the country, and as for the books, they are mostly scattered about, spoiled, and lost.

“At one time my work was on the point of ensuring to me the possession of a brilliant fortune; but my prospects were defeated by the vilest shuffling. The details of this case are so curious that I cannot forbear mentioning them to your Majesty.