Chapter XII: Part 12

“The French Revolution was not produced by the jarring interests of two families disputing the possession of the throne; it was a general rising of the mass of the nation against the privileged classes. The French nobility, like that of every country in Europe, dates its origin from the incursion of the barbarians, who divided the Roman Empire among them. In France, nobles represented the Franks, and the Burgundians, and the rest of the nation, the Gauls. The feudal system which was introduced established the principle that all land should have a lord. All political privileges were exercised by the Priests and the Nobles; the peasants were slaves, and in part attached to the glebe. The progress of civilization and knowledge emancipated the people. This new state of things promoted industry and trade. The chief portion of the land, wealth, and information, belonged to the people in the eighteenth century. The nobles, however, still continued to be a privileged class: they were empowered to administer justice, and they possessed feudal rights under various denominations and forms: they enjoyed the privilege of being exempt from all the burdens of the state, and of possessing exclusively the most honourable posts. These abuses roused the indignation of the citizens. The principal object of the Revolution was to destroy all privileges; to abolish signorial jurisdictions, justice being an inseparable attribute of sovereign authority; to suppress feudal rights, as being a remnant of the old slavery of the people; to subject alike all citizens and all property, to the burdens of the state. In short, the Revolution proclaimed equality of rights. A citizen might attain any public employment, according to his talent and the chances of fortune. The kingdom was composed of provinces which had been united to the Crown at various periods: they had no natural limits, and were differently divided, unequal in extent and in population. They possessed many laws of their own, civil as well as criminal: they were more or less privileged, and very unequally taxed, both with respect to the amount and the nature of the contributions, which rendered it necessary to detach them from each other by lines of custom-houses. France was not a state, but a combination of several states, connected together without amalgamation. The whole had been determined by chance and by the events of past ages. The Revolution, guided by the principle of equality, both with respect to the citizens and the different portions of the territory, destroyed all these small nations: there was no longer a Brittany, a Normandy, a Burgundy, a Champagne, a Provence, or a Lorraine; but the whole formed a France. A division of homogeneous territory, prescribed by local circumstances, confounded the limits of all the provinces. They possessed the same judicial and administrative organization, the same civil and criminal laws, and the same system of taxation. The dreams of the upright men of all ages were realized. The opposition which the Court, the Clergy, and the Nobility, raised against the Revolution and the war with foreign powers, produced the law of emigration and the sequestration of emigrant property, which subsequently it was found necessary to sell, in order to provide for the charges of the war. A great portion of the French nobility enrolled themselves under the banner of the princes of the Bourbon family, and formed an army which marched in conjunction with the Austrian, Prussian, and English forces. Gentlemen who had been brought up in the enjoyment of competency served as private soldiers: numbers were cut off by fatigue and the sword; others perished of want in foreign countries; and the wars of La Vendée and of the Chouans, and the revolutionary tribunals, swept away thousands. Three-fourths of the French nobility were thus destroyed; and all posts, civil, judicial, or military, were filled by citizens who had risen from the common mass of the people. The change produced in persons and property by the events of the Revolution, was not less remarkable than that which was effected by the principles of the Revolution. A new church was created; the dioceses of Vienne, Narbonne, Frejus, Sisteron, Rheims, &c., were superseded by sixty new dioceses, the boundaries of which were circumscribed, in the Concordat, by new Bulls applicable to the present state of the French territory. The suppression of religious orders, the sale of convents and of all ecclesiastical property, were sanctioned, and the clergy were pensioned by the State. Every thing that was the result of the events which had occurred since the time of Clovis, ceased to exist. All these changes were so advantageous to the people that they were effected with the utmost facility, and, in 1800, there no longer remained any recollection of the old privileges and sovereigns of the provinces, the old parliaments and bailiwicks, or the old dioceses; and to trace back the origin of all that existed, it was sufficient to refer to the new law by which it had been established. One-half of the land had changed its proprietors; the peasantry and the citizens were enriched. The advancement of agriculture and manufactures exceeded the most sanguine hopes. France presented the imposing spectacle of upwards of thirty millions of inhabitants, circumscribed within their natural limits, and composing only a single class of citizens, governed by one law, one rule, and one order. All these changes were conformable with the welfare and rights of the nation, and with the justice and intelligence of the age.

CHAP. IV.—The French people establish the Imperial throne, to
consolidate the new interests of the nation. The fourth dynasty did
not immediately succeed the third; it succeeded the Republic. Napoleon
is crowned by the Pope, and acknowledged by the Powers of Europe. He
creates kings, and the armies of all the Continental Powers march
under his command.

The five members of the Directory were divided. Enemies to the Republic crept into the councils; and thus men, hostile to the rights of the people, became connected with the government. This state of things kept the country in a ferment; and the great interests which the French people had acquired by the Revolution were incessantly compromised. One unanimous voice, issuing from the plains of France and from her cities and her camps, demanded the preservation of all the principles of the Republic, or the establishment of an hereditary system of government, which would place the principles and interests of the Revolution beyond the reach of factions and the influence of foreigners. By the constitution of the year VIII. the First Consul of the Republic became Consul for ten years, and the nation afterwards prolonged his magistracy for life: the people subsequently raised him to the throne, which it rendered hereditary in his family. The principles of the sovereignty of the people, of liberty and equality, of the destruction of the feudal system, of the irrevocability of the sale of national domains, and the freedom of religious worship, were now established. The government of France, under the fourth dynasty, was founded on the same principles as the Republic. It was a moderate and constitutional monarchy. There was as much difference between the government of France under the fourth dynasty and the third, as between the latter and the Republic. The fourth dynasty succeeded the Republic, or, more properly speaking, it was merely a modification of it.

No Prince ever ascended a throne with rights more legitimate than those of Napoleon. The crown was not presented to him by a few Bishops and Nobles; but he was raised to the Imperial throne by the unanimous consent of the citizens, three times solemnly confirmed. Pope Pius VII. the head of the Catholic religion, the religion of the majority of the French people, crossed the Alps to anoint the Emperor with his own hands, in the presence of the Bishops of France, the Cardinals of the Romish Church, and the Deputies from all the districts of the Empire. The sovereigns of Europe eagerly acknowledged Napoleon: all beheld with pleasure the modification of the Republic, which placed France on a footing of harmony with the rest of Europe, and which at once confirmed the constitution and the happiness of that great nation. Ambassadors from Austria, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Portugal, Turkey, and America, in fine, from all the powers of Europe, came to congratulate the Emperor. England alone sent no ambassador: she had violated the treaty of Amiens, and had consequently again declared war against France; but even England approved the change. Lord Whitworth, in the secret negotiations which took place through the medium of Count Malouet, and which preceded the rupture of the peace of Amiens, proposed, on the part of the English government, to acknowledge Napoleon as King of France, on condition of his agreeing to the cession of Malta. The First Consul replied that, if ever the welfare of France required that he should ascend the throne, it would only be by the free and spontaneous will of the French people. In 1806, when Lord Lauderdale came to Paris to negotiate peace between the King of England and the Emperor, he exchanged his powers, as is proved by the protocol of the negotiations, and he treated with the Emperor’s plenipotentiary. The death of Fox broke up the negotiations of Lord Lauderdale. The English Minister had it in his power to obviate the Prussian campaign,[22] to prevent the battle of Jena. When, in 1814, the Allies presented an _ultimatum_ at Chaumont, Lord Castlereagh, in signing this _ultimatum_, again acknowledged the existence of the Empire in the person and the family of Napoleon. If the latter did not accept the propositions of the Congress of Chatillon, it was because he did not conceive himself at liberty to cede a portion of the Empire, the integrity of which he had, at his coronation, sworn to maintain.

The Electors of Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and Saxony, were created Kings by Napoleon.

The armies of Saxony, Bavaria, Wurtemberg, Baden, and Hesse, fought in conjunction with the French armies; and the Russian and French troops fought together in 1809, in the war against Austria. In 1812, the Emperor of Austria concluded at Paris an alliance with Napoleon, and Prince Schwartzenburg commanded, under his orders, the Austrian contingent in the Russian campaign, in which he attained the rank of Field Marshal, on the application of the French Emperor. A similar treaty of alliance was concluded at Berlin, and the Prussian army also fought with the French in the campaign in Russia.

Footnote 22:

While Lord Lauderdale was in Paris, and negotiating with the Emperor’s
plenipotentiaries, Prussia took up arms and assumed a hostile
attitude. Lord Lauderdale seemed to disapprove of this conduct, and to
consider the contest very unequal. Being informed that Napoleon
intended to march at the head of the army, he enquired whether the
Emperor would consent to defer his departure, and to enter into
arrangements with Prussia, if England would accept the basis of the
negotiations, that is to say, the _uti possidetis_ on both sides,
including Hanover. The discussion was maintained on the subject of
Hanover, which England wished to recover independently of this basis.
By the reply of the Cabinet of St. James’s, Lord Lauderdale was
recalled. The Emperor set out, and the battle of Jena took place: Fox
was then dead.

We were, at this period, eye-witnesses to the regret and repugnance
which Napoleon evinced at the necessity of going to war with Prussia.
He was disposed to leave Hanover in the possession of that power, and
to recognise a Confederation of the North of Germany. He felt that
Prussia, having never been beaten or humbled by France, and her power
being still unimpaired, she could have no interests hostile to his;
but that, if once she were subdued, she must be destroyed.

The Emperor healed the wounds which the Revolution had inflicted: the emigrants returned, and the list of proscription was obliterated. Napoleon enjoyed the glory most gratifying to a monarch, by recalling and re-establishing in their homes upwards of 20,000 families: their unsold property was restored to them; and, the veil of oblivion being thrown over the past, persons of every class, whatever line of conduct they might previously have pursued, were admitted to all public employments. Families who had distinguished themselves by the services they had rendered to the Bourbons, those who had shewn themselves most devoted to the Royal Family, filled places about the Court, and in the ministry, and held commissions in the army. All party denominations were forgotten: aristocrats and Jacobins were no longer spoken of; and the institution of the Legion of Honour, which was at once the reward of military, civil, and judicial services, placed on a footing of unity the soldier, the man of science, the artist, the prelate, and the magistrate; it became the badge of concord among all classes and all parties.

CHAP. V.—The blood of the Imperial dynasty mingled with that of all the
monarchical Houses in Europe; with those of Russia, Prussia, England,
and Austria.

The Imperial House of France contracted alliances with all the sovereign families of Europe. Prince Eugéne Napoleon, the adopted son of the Emperor, married the eldest daughter of the King of Bavaria, a princess distinguished for her beauty and her virtues. This alliance, which was contracted at Munich on the 14th of January, 1806, afforded the highest satisfaction to the Bavarian nation. The Hereditary Prince of Baden, the brother-in-law of the Emperor of Russia, solicited the hand of Princess Stephanie, the adopted daughter of the Emperor Napoleon: this marriage was celebrated at Paris on the 7th of April, 1806. On the 22d of August, 1807, Prince Jerome Napoleon married the eldest daughter of the King of Wurtemburg, cousin-german of the Emperor of Russia, the King of England, and the King of Prussia. Other alliances of this nature were contracted with sovereign princes of Germany, of the House of Hohenzollern. These marriages have proved happy, and all have given birth to princes and princesses, who will transmit to future generations the recollection of the Imperial government of France.

“When the interests of France and the Empire induced the Emperor and the Empress Josephine to break bonds which were equally dear to them both, the greatest sovereigns in Europe courted the Alliance of Napoleon. Had it not been for religious scruples, and the delays occasioned by distance, it is probable that a Russian princess would have occupied the throne of France. The Archduchess Maria Louisa, who was married to the Emperor by procuration granted to Prince Charles, at Vienna, on the 11th of March, 1810, and at Paris on the 2d of April following, ascended the throne of France. As soon as the Emperor of Austria learned that Napoleon’s marriage was in agitation, he expressed his surprise that an alliance with the House of Austria had not been thought of. The choice was hitherto divided between a Russian and a Saxon princess: Francis explained his sentiments on this subject to the Count de Narbonne, the Governor of Trieste, who was then at Vienna; and, in consequence, instructions were forwarded to the Prince of Schwartzenberg, the Austrian ambassador at Paris. In February, 1810, a Privy Council was convoked at the Tuileries: the Minister for Foreign Affairs submitted to the Council the despatches of the Duke of Vicenza, the French ambassador at the Court of Russia. These communications shewed that the Emperor Alexander was very much disposed to give his sister, the Grand-duchess Anne, in marriage to Napoleon; but he seemed to make it a point of importance that the Princess should be allowed the public exercise of her religious worship, and a chapel appropriated to the Greek rites. The despatches from Vienna developed the insinuations and the wishes of the Austrian Court. There was a division of opinions in the French Council: the Russian, the Saxon, and the Austrian alliance, all found supporters; but the majority voted for the choice of an Archduchess of Austria. As Prince Eugéne had been the first to propose the Austrian alliance, the Emperor, breaking up the sitting at two in the morning, authorized him to make overtures with Prince Schwartzenberg. He at the same time authorized the Minister for Foreign Affairs to sign, in the course of the day, the contract of marriage with the Austrian ambassador; and, to obviate all difficulties with respect to the details, he directed him to sign, word for word, the same contract as that which had been drawn up for the marriage of Louis XVI. and the Archduchess Marie-Antoinette. In the morning, Prince Eugéne had an interview with Prince Schwartzenberg: the contract was signed the same day, and the courier who conveyed the intelligence to Austria agreeably surprised the Emperor Francis. The peculiar circumstances attending the signature of this marriage contract led the Emperor Alexander to suspect that he had been trifled with, and that the Court of the Tuileries had been conducting two negotiations at once. But this was a mistake: the negotiation with Vienna was begun and concluded in one day.[23]

Footnote 23:

A report was pretty generally circulated that the marriage of the
Archduchess Maria-Louisa with the Emperor Napoleon was a secret
article of the treaty of Vienna: this idea is void of foundation. The
treaty of Vienna is dated Oct. 15, 1809, and the marriage contract was
signed at Paris on the 7th of Feb. 1810.

Every individual who was present at the deliberations of the Privy
Council can attest that the circumstances of the marriage were such as
they have been above described; that no idea of the Austrian alliance
was entertained before the contents of the Count de Narbonne’s
despatches were made known; and that the marriage with the Archduchess
Maria-Louisa was proposed, discussed, and determined on in the
Council, and signed within the space of twenty-four hours.

The members of the Council were—the Emperor, the great Dignitaries of
the Empire, the high Officers of the Crown, all the Ministers, the
Presidents of the Senate and the Legislative Body, and the Ministers
of State, Presidents of the sections of the Council of State;
amounting, in all, to 25.

“Never did the birth of any Prince excite so much enthusiasm in a people, or produce so powerful a sensation throughout Europe, as the birth of the King of Rome. On the firing of the first gun, which announced the delivery of the Empress, the whole population of Paris was in the most anxious suspense. In the streets, the promenades, at the places of public amusement, and in the interior of the houses, all were eagerly intent on counting the number of guns. The twenty-second excited universal transport: it had been usual to discharge twenty-one guns on the birth of a Princess, and a hundred and one on the birth of a Prince. All the European Powers deputed the most distinguished noblemen of their Courts to present their congratulations to the Emperor. The Emperor of Russia sent his Minister of the Interior; and the Emperor of Austria despatched Count Clary, one of his highest officers of the crown, who brought, as presents to the young King, the collars of all the Orders of the Austrian Monarchy set with diamonds. The baptism of the King of Rome was celebrated with the utmost pomp, in the presence of the French bishops, and deputies from all parts of the Empire. The Emperor of Austria was sponsor to the young king by proxy; he was represented by his brother, the Archduke Ferdinand, Grand-Duke of Tuscany.

CHAP. VI.—Containing some account of the campaign of Saxony,[24] and
shewing that the league of 1813 was in its object foreign to the
Restoration.

Footnote 24:

I did not choose to suppress this summary of the campaign in Saxony,
although the same subject has already been particularly treated of at
the commencement of this volume. If, however, some readers should
consider it merely a repetition, others will find in it the means of
comparing and verifying what has been before stated: one of the
accounts is drawn up from documents published in Europe, whilst the
other was dictated at St. Helena by Napoleon himself.

“The victories of Lützen and Würtzen, on the 2nd and 22nd of May, 1813, had re-established the reputation of the French arms. The King of Saxony was brought back in triumph to his capital; the enemy was driven from Hamburg; one of the corps of the grand army was at the gates of Berlin, and the imperial head-quarters were established at Breslau. The Russian and Prussian armies, disheartened by their defeats, had no alternative but to repass the Vistula, when Austria interfered and advised France to sign an armistice. Napoleon returned to Dresden, the Emperor of Austria quitted Vienna and repaired to Bohemia, and the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia established themselves at Schweidnitz. Communications took place between the different Powers. Count Metternich proposed the Congress of Prague, which was agreed on; but it was merely the shadow of a Congress. The Court of Vienna had already entered into engagements with Russia and Prussia, and intended to declare itself in the month of May, when the unexpected success of the French army rendered greater circumspection necessary. Notwithstanding all the efforts which Austria had exerted, her army was still inconsiderable in number, badly organized, and ill prepared to enter upon a campaign. Count Metternich demanded, on the part of Austria, the surrender of the Illyrian Provinces, one half of the kingdom of Italy, (that is to say, Venice, as far as the Mincio,) and Poland. It was moreover required that Napoleon should renounce the Protectorate of Germany, and the departments of the thirty-second military division. These extravagant propositions were advanced only that they might be rejected. The Duke of Vicenza proceeded to the Congress of Prague. The choice of Baron d’Anstetten, as the Russian plenipotentiary, shewed that Russia wished not for peace, but was merely anxious to afford Austria time to complete her military preparations. The unfavourable augury, occasioned by the selection of Baron d’Anstetten as a negotiator, was confirmed: he declined entering upon any conference. Austria, who pretended to act as mediatrix, declared, when her army was in readiness, that she adhered to the coalition, though she did not even require the opening of a single sitting, or the drawing up of a single protocol. This system of bad faith, and of perpetual contradictions between words and acts, was unremittingly pursued, at this period, by the Court of Vienna. The war was resumed. The brilliant victory gained by the Emperor at Dresden, on the 27th of August, 1813, over the army commanded by the three Sovereigns, was immediately followed by the disasters which Macdonald, through his ill-concerted manœuvres, brought upon himself in Silesia, and by the destruction of Vandamme’s force in Bohemia. However, the superiority was still on the side of the French army, which supported itself on three points, viz: Torgau, Wittenberg, and Magdeburg. Denmark had concluded a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, and her contingent augmented the army of Hamburg.

“In October, the Emperor quitted Dresden to proceed to Magdeburg, by the left bank of the Elbe, in order to deceive the enemy. His intention was to recross the Elbe at Wittenburg and to march on Berlin. Several corps of the army had already arrived at Wittenburg, and the enemy’s bridges at Dessau had been destroyed, when a letter from the King of Wurtemburg informed the Emperor that the King of Bavaria had suddenly gone over to the enemy; and that, without any declaration of war or any previous intimation, the Austrian and Bavarian forces, cantoned on the banks of the Inn, had formed themselves into one camp; that these forces, amounting to 80,000, under the orders of General Wrede, were marching on the Rhine; that he (the King of Wurtemberg), seeing the impossibility of his opposing this united force, had been obliged to add his contingent to it. The letter farther added that 100,000 men would soon surround Mentz, the Bavarians having made common cause with Austria. Upon receiving this unexpected intelligence, the Emperor found himself compelled to change the plan of the campaign which he had projected two months previously, and for which he had prepared the fortresses and magazines. This plan had for its object to drive the Allies between the Elbe and the Saale; and, under the protection of the fortresses and magazines of Torgau, Wittemberg, Magdeburg, and Hamburg, to establish the seat of war between the Elbe and the Oder (the French army being at that time in possession of the fortresses of Glogau, Cüstrin, and Stettin), and, according to circumstances, to raise the blockades of the fortresses of the Vistula, Dantzick, Thorn, and Modlin. It was anticipated that the success of this vast plan would have been the means of breaking up the coalition, and that, in consequence, all the German Princes would have been confirmed in their allegiance and their alliance with France. It was hoped that Bavaria would have delayed for a fortnight to change sides, and then it was certain that she would not have changed at all.

“The armies met on the plains of Leipsic, on the 16th of October. The French were victorious; the Austrians were beaten and driven from all their positions; and Count Meerfeld, who commanded one of the Austrian corps, was made prisoner. On the 18th, notwithstanding the check sustained by the Duke of Ragusa on the 16th, victory was still on the side of the French, when the whole of the Saxon army, with a battery of sixty guns, occupying one of the most important positions of the line, passed over to the enemy, and turned its artillery on the French ranks. Such unlooked-for treachery could not but cause the destruction of the French army, and transfer all the glory of the day to the Allies. The Emperor galloped forward with half his guard, repulsed the Swedes and Saxons, and drove them from their positions. This day (the 18th) was now ended: the enemy made a retrograde movement along the whole of his line, and bivouacked in the rear of the field of battle, which remained in the possession of the French. In the night, the French army made a movement, in order to take its position behind the Elster, and thus to be in direct communication with Erfurt, whence were expected the convoys of ammunition that were so much wanted. In the engagements of the 16th and 18th, the French army had fired more than 150,000 discharges of cannon. The treachery of several of the German corps of the Confederation, who were seduced by the example of the Saxons on the preceding day, and the destruction of the bridge of Leipsic, which was blown up by mistake, occasioned the French army, though victorious, to experience the losses which usually result from the most disastrous engagements. The French re-crossed the Saale by the bridge of Weissenfeld: they intended to rally their forces, and await the arrival of the ammunition from Erfurt, which had abundant supplies.

“Intelligence was now received of the Austro-Bavarian army, which, by forced marches, had reached the Maine. It was necessary therefore to repair thither, in order to come up with the Bavarians; and, on the 30th of October, the French fell in with them, drawn up in order of battle before Hanau and intercepting the Frankfort roads. The Bavarian force, though numerous, and occupying fine positions, was completely routed, and driven beyond Hanau, which was in the possession of Count Bertrand. General Wrede was wounded. The French forces continued their movement with the view of falling back behind the Rhine, and they re-crossed the river on the 2nd of November. A parley ensued: Baron de St. Aignan repaired to Frankfort, where he had conferences with Counts Metternich and Nesselrode and Lord Aberdeen, and he arrived at Paris with proposals for peace on the following bases:—That the Emperor Napoleon should renounce the Protectorship of the Confederation of the Rhine, Poland, and the departments of the Elbe; but that France should retain her boundaries of the Alps and the Rhine, together with the possession of Holland, and that a frontier line in Italy should be determined upon, for separating France from the States of the House of Austria. The Emperor agreed to these bases; but the Congress of Frankfort, like that of Prague, was merely a stratagem employed in the hope that France would reject the terms which were proposed. It was wished to have a new subject for a manifesto to operate on the public mind; for at the moment when these conciliatory propositions were made, the Allied army was violating the neutrality of the cantons, and entering Switzerland. However, the Allies at last developed their real intentions; they named Chatillon-sur-Seine, in Burgundy, as the seat of the Congress. The battles of Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, and Montereau, destroyed the armies of Blucher and Witgenstein. No negotiations took place at Chatillon; but the coalesced Powers presented an _ultimatum_, the conditions of which were as follows:

“1st, That France should surrender the whole of Italy, Belgium, Holland, and the departments of the Rhine; 2nd, that France should return to her limits as they existed previously to 1792. The Emperor rejected this _ultimatum_. He consented to sacrifice Holland and Italy to the circumstances in which France was then placed; but he refused to resign the limits of the Alps and the Rhine, or to surrender Belgium and particularly Antwerp. Treason secured the triumph of the Allies, notwithstanding the victories of Arcis and St. Dizier. Hitherto the Allies had intimated no design of interfering in the internal affairs of France; this is proved by the _ultimatum_ of Chatillon, signed by England, Austria, Russia, and Prussia. At length, however, some of the returned emigrants, excited by the presence of the Austrian, Russian, and Prussian armies, in whose ranks they had long borne arms, imagined that the moment had arrived in which their dreams were to be realized: some mounted the white cockade, and others displayed the cross of St. Louis. This conduct was disapproved by the Allied Sovereigns; and it was even censured by Wellington at Bourdeaux, though in reality he secretly favoured all who endeavoured to raise the ensigns of the House of Bourbon. In the transactions which detached Prussia from her alliance with France, and bound her to Russia by the treaty of Kalisch; in the treaty which united Austria with the coalition; in the diplomatic proceedings, public and private, which took place down to the treaty of Chatillon; and even in that concluded in France, in 1814, the Allies never made any reference to the Bourbons.”

The VIIth, VIIIth, and IXth Chapters shew that the Bourbons after their return ought to have commenced a fifth dynasty, and not to have endeavoured to continue the third. The first course would have rendered all easy, the second has involved every thing in difficulty.

The Xth Chapter closes with a passage of a few lines which forcibly describe the magical effect of the Emperor’s return on the 20th of March. These last chapters contain the most nervous and energetic writing, but the applications are direct, and indeed often personal. I have suppressed the details, because I wish not to afford any ground for my being accused of bringing forward a hostile statement. Time, which modifies all things, will render this work merely an historical document, which is the only light in which I wish it to be considered here, as well, indeed, as all works of a similar nature that I may think it necessary to quote. I have written in France and other countries, under different laws and circumstances, and I have always found the liberty of the press existing for me.

I hope to experience its influence on the present occasion, although my subject is one of a most delicate nature. I now look forward to the speedy termination of my voyage; the port is within sight, and I hope to reach it safely, in spite of all the shoals I may encounter.

MY DOMESTIC AFFAIRS.—THE EMPEROR’S VIEWS IN
HIS MUNIFICENCE.

9th—10th. The Emperor passed a bad night. He desired me to be called early in the morning. When I went to him, he told me that he was half dead, that he had had no rest, and was feverish. He has continued very ill for these two days, and has reclined almost constantly on his couch, which in the evenings is drawn near the fire. He has been unable to eat, and has drunk nothing but warm lemonade. I have been in continual attendance on him during these two days; he has enjoyed a little sleep at intervals, and the rest of the time he has spent in conversing with me upon various subjects. He spoke of the expense of giving parties in Paris; and, passing from that subject to my domestic affairs, he expressed a wish that I should make him acquainted with the minutest details on that point.

I told him that my income had amounted only to 20,000 francs a year, 15,000 of which were derived from my own property, and 5000 from my salary as a Councillor of State. On hearing this he exclaimed: “You must have been mad! How could you venture to approach the Tuileries with so straitened an income? The expenses of attending the Court were enormous!”—“Sire,” I replied, “I contrived to keep up my dignity as well as the rest: and yet I never solicited any thing from your Majesty.” The Emperor observed, “I do not say you did; but you must have been ruined in less than four or five years.”—“No, Sire,” I rejoined, “I had been an emigrant during the greater part of my life; I had lived amidst privations, and, with a few exceptions, I still subjected myself to them. It is true that, in spite of all my economy, I ran through 7 or 8000 francs of my capital every year. But I calculated thus: it was well known that every person about you must, by dint of zeal and attention to their duties, sooner or later, attract your notice, and that he who once gained your favour might consider his fortune made. I had still four or five years left to try this chance; at the expiration of which, if fortune did not smile on me, I was determined to renounce the illusions of the world, and to retire from the capital with an income of ten or twelve thousand livres; poor enough, to be sure, but, nevertheless, richer than ever I had been in Paris.”—“Well,” said the Emperor, “your scheme was not a bad one, and the moment had just arrived when you would have been indemnified for all your losses. I was just about to do something for you, and it was wholly your own fault that you did not make a more rapid and brilliant fortune. I believe I have told you before that you did not know how to avail yourself of favourable opportunities for securing your own advancement.”

This conversation led us to speak of the enormous sums which the Emperor had lavished on the persons about him, and, gradually becoming animated, he said:—“It would be difficult to estimate all that I bestowed in this way. I might, on more than one occasion, have been accused of profusion, and I am grieved to see that it has been of little use in any respect. There must certainly have been some fatality on my part, or some essential fault in the persons whom I favoured. What a difficulty was I placed in! It cannot be believed that my extravagance was caused by personal vanity. To act the part of an Asiatic monarch was not a thing to my taste. I was not actuated either by vanity or caprice; every thing was with me a matter of calculation. Though certain persons might be favourites with me, yet I did not lavish my bounty on them merely because I liked them: I wished to found, through them, great families, who might form rallying-points in great national crises. The great Officers of my Household, as well as all my Ministers, independently of their enormous salaries, often received from me handsome gratuities,—sometimes complete services of plate, &c. What was my object in this profuseness? I required that they should maintain elegant establishments, give grand dinners and brilliant balls!—And why did I wish this? In order to amalgamate parties, to form new unions, to smooth down old asperities, and to give a character to French society and manners. If I conceived good ideas, they miscarried in the execution: for instance, none of my chief Courtiers ever kept up a suitable establishment. If they gave dinners, they invited only their party friends; and when I attended their expensive balls, whom did I find there? All the Court of the Tuileries: not a new face; not one of those who were offended at the new system—those sullen malcontents, whom a little honey would have brought back to the hive. They could not enter into my views, or did not wish to do so. In vain I expressed displeasure, intreated, and commanded: things still went on in the same way. I could not be every-where at once, and they knew that;—and yet it was affirmed that I ruled with a rod of iron. How, then, must things go under gentle sovereigns?”

REMOVAL OF THE EMPEROR’S BED.—ANECDOTE OF A
GASCON SOLDIER.—THE GUARDS OF THE EAGLE.

11th.—The Emperor continued unwell. I found him very low-spirited. He had ordered the situation of his bed to be changed—that bed, so long the constant companion of his victories, was now a couch of sickness. He complained that it was too small for him, that he could hardly turn himself in it; but his chamber would not have afforded room for a longer one. He ordered the camp-bed to be carried into his cabinet, and placed beside a couch; so that the two combined formed a bed of tolerable size. To what an extremity is he reduced! The Emperor stretched himself on his sofa, and entered into conversation, which revived him a little. Speaking of his accession to the Consulship, and of the dreadful disorders which he found existing in all the branches of the public service, he said that he had been compelled to adopt numerous measures of reform, which caused a great outcry, but which had not a little contributed to strengthen the bonds of society. These measures extended to the army, among the officers, and even among the generals, who, he said, had become such, Heaven knows how. Here I took the liberty to relate an anecdote which had at one time afforded great amusement to the circle in which I moved. One of my friends, (who was as dissatisfied with the then existing government as I was myself,) travelling in one of the small Versailles diligences with a soldier of the guard, maliciously excited him to express his opinions. The man complained that every thing went wrong, because it was required that a soldier should know how to read and write before he could be advanced from the ranks. “So you see,” he exclaimed, “the _tic has returned again_.”[25] This phrase pleased us, and was often repeated among us. “Well,” observed the Emperor, “what would your soldier have said when I created the Guards of the Eagle? That measure would, doubtless, have re-established me in his good opinion. I appointed two sub-officers to be the special guards of the Eagle in every regiment, one of whom was placed on either side of the standard; and, lest their ardour in the midst of the conflict might cause them to lose sight of the only object which they ought to have in view, namely, the preservation of the Eagle, they were prohibited from using the sabre or the sword: their only arms were a few braces of pistols; their only duty was coolly to blow out the brains of the enemy who might attempt to lay hands on the Eagle. But, before a man could obtain this post, he was required to prove that he could neither read nor write, and of course you guess the reason why.” “No, Sire.” “Why, simpleton! Every man who has received education is sure to rise in the army, but the soldier who has not these advantages, never attains advancement except by dint of courage and extraordinary circumstances.”

Footnote 25:

TIC is the French term for any bad habit.

As I was in the humour for gossiping, I related another anecdote, which had also produced merriment in the saloons of Paris. It was said that, a regiment having lost its Eagle, Napoleon harangued the men on the subject, and expressed great indignation at the dishonour they had brought upon themselves by suffering their Eagle to be taken. “But we tricked the enemy,” exclaimed a Gascon soldier, “they have only got the staff, for here is the _cuckoo_ in my pocket;” and he produced the Eagle. The Emperor laughed and said, “Well, I could not venture to affirm that this circumstance, or something very like it, did not actually take place. My soldiers were very much at their ease and made very free with me; often addressing me familiarly by the pronoun _thou_.”

I mentioned having heard that on the eve of the battle of Jena, or some other great engagement, as Napoleon was passing a particular station, accompanied by a very small escort, a soldier refused to let him pass, and, growing angry when the Emperor insisted on advancing, swore that he should not pass even though he were the _Little Corporal_ himself. When the soldier ascertained that it was really the Little Corporal, he was not at all disconcerted. The Emperor observed, “That was because he felt the conviction of having done his duty; and indeed the fact is that I passed for a terrible tyrant in the saloons, and even among the officers of the army, but not among the soldiers: they possessed the instinct of truth and sympathy, they knew me to be their protector, and, in case of need, their avenger.”

THE EMPEROR CONTINUES UNWELL.—HORRIBLE
PROVISIONS, EXECRABLE WINE, &C.

12th.—To-day the Emperor, although no better than he had been for some days past, determined, as he said, to nurse himself no longer. He dressed and repaired to the drawing-room, where he dictated, for two or three hours, to one of his suite. He had eaten nothing for three days: he had not yet been relieved by the crisis which he expected, and which is usually produced by the singular regimen which he prescribes for himself. He continued drinking warm lemonade. This circumstance led him to inquire how long a person might live without eating, and how far drink might supply the place of solid food. He sent for the _Encyclopedia Britannica_, in which he met with some very curious facts: for instance, he found that a woman had existed for fifty days without solid food, and drinking only twice. Another instance was mentioned of a person who had lived twenty days upon water alone.

Somebody observed, in reference to this subject, that Charles XII., out of pure contradiction to the opinions of those around him, had abstained from eating for the space of five or six days, at the expiration of which, however, he devoured a turkey and a leg of mutton, at the hazard of bursting. Napoleon laughed at this anecdote, and assured us that he felt no wish to run to such extremes, however attractive the model might be in other respects.

The Emperor played a game at piquet with Madame de Montholon. The Grand Marshal having entered, he left off playing, and asked him how he thought he looked. Bertrand replied, “Only rather sallow;” which was indeed the case. The Emperor rose good-humouredly, and pursued Bertrand into the saloon, in order to catch him by the ear, exclaiming, “Rather sallow, indeed! Do you intend to insult me. Grand Marshal? Do you mean to say that I am bilious, morose, atrabilarious, passionate, unjust, tyrannical! Let me catch hold of your ear, and I will take my revenge.”

The dinner-hour arrived, and the Emperor for some time was undecided whether he would sit down to table with us, or dine alone in his own room. He decided upon the latter plan, lest, as he said, he should be tempted to imitate Charles XII. if he sat at the great table: but he would have found it difficult to do that. He returned while we were at dinner, and, from the scanty way in which our table was served, he said he really pitied us, for in fact we had scarcely any thing to eat. This circumstance induced the Emperor to resort to a painful extremity: he instantly gave orders that a portion of his plate should be sold every month, to supply what was necessary for our table. The worst thing connected with our wretched dinner was the wine, which had for some days been execrable, and had made us all unwell. We were obliged to send for some to the camp, in the hope that that which had been furnished to us would be changed, as we could not drink it.

In the course of a conversation which took place respecting the wine, the Emperor stated that he had received a great number of instructions and directions from chemists and physicians, all of whom had concurred in declaring that wine and coffee were the two things respecting which it was most necessary he should be on his guard. Every professional man had cautioned him to reject both wine and coffee if he found any unpleasant flavour in them. Wine, in particular, he was advised to abstain from, if he found any thing _uncommon_ in the taste of it. He had always been in the habit of getting his wine from Chambertin, and had therefore, seldom occasion to find fault with it; but the case is different now, if he had refused wine whenever he found any thing _uncommon_ in it, he must have abstained from it for a considerable time past.

CRITICISM ON PRINCE LUCIEN’S POEM OF
CHARLEMAGNE.—HOMER.

13th.—The weather is very bad; and it has continued so for three weeks or a month. The Emperor sent for me before one o’clock: he was in his saloon; our Amphitryon had paid me a visit, and I took him to the Emperor, who spoke to him on matters of a private and personal nature.

Napoleon is much altered in his looks.—To-day he wished to set to work. I sent for my son, and he went over the chapters relating to the Pope and Tagliamento. He continued thus employed until five o’clock. He was very low-spirited, and appeared to be suffering much; he retired, saying he would try to eat a little.

Two ships came within sight, one was supposed to be the Eurydice, which was every moment expected to arrive from Europe, having touched at the Cape: they proved to be, however, one of the Company’s ships and another vessel that was accidentally passing the island.

The Emperor came to us while we were at dinner; he said he had eaten enough for four persons, and that this had quite restored him.

He wanted something to read, and looked over his brother Lucien’s poem of Charlemagne. He analysed the first canto, and afterwards glanced over a few others: he then examined the subject and the plan of the work, &c. “How much labour, ingenuity and time,” he observed, “have been thrown away upon this book! what a wreck of judgment and taste! Here are twenty thousand verses, some of which may be good, for aught I know; but they are destitute of interest, design, or effect. It might have been regarded as a compulsory task, had it been written by a professed author. Why did not Lucien, with all his good sense, consider that Voltaire, master as he was of the French language and the art of poetry, failed in a similar attempt, though that attempt was made in Paris, in the midst of the sanctuary! How could Lucien suppose it possible to write a French poem, when living at a distance from the French capital? How could he pretend to introduce a new metre? He has written a history in verse, and not an epic poem. An epic poem should not be the history of a man, but of a passion or an event. And, then, what a subject has Lucien chosen! What barbarous names has he introduced! Does he think he has succeeded in raising the religion which he conceived to be fallen? Is his poem intended as a work of re-action? It certainly bears the stamp of the soil on which it was written: it is full of prayers, priests, the temporal authority of the Popes, &c. How could he think of devoting twenty thousand lines to absurdities which do not belong to the present age, to prejudices which he could not enter into, and opinions which he could not entertain! What a misapplication of talent! He might undoubtedly have produced something more creditable to himself; for he possesses judgment, facility, and industry. He was in Rome amidst the richest materials, and with the means of satisfying the deepest research. He understands the Italian language: and, as we have no good history of Italy, he might have written one. His talents, his situation, his knowledge of affairs, his rank, might have enabled him to produce an excellent classic work. It would have been a valuable acquisition to the literary world, and would have conferred honour on its author. But what is Charlemagne? What reputation will it gain? It will be buried in the dust of libraries, and its author will obtain at most a few scanty and perhaps ridiculous notices in biographical dictionaries. If Lucien could not resist the temptation of scribbling verses, he should have prepared a splendid manuscript, embellished with elegant designs and superb binding, with which he might now and then have gratified the eyes of the ladies, occasionally allowing a few quotations from it to creep into publicity; and finally he should have left it to his heirs, with a severe prohibition against committing it to the press. One might then have been able to understand his taste.”

He laid the work aside, and said: “Let us turn to the Iliad.” My son went to fetch it, and the Emperor read a few cantos, stopping at various passages, in order, as he said, to admire them at his ease. His observations were copious and remarkable. He was so deeply interested in what he read, that it was half-past twelve before he retired to rest.

SCARCITY OF PROVISIONS.—RIDICULOUS ALLOWANCE OF
WINE.—NAPOLEON’S RETURN FROM ELBA.

14th.—The terrible state of the weather still continued, and confined us to our miserable huts. We are all indisposed.

The Emperor dictated during part of the day, and he felt himself much better.

At dinner we had literally scarcely any thing to eat. The Governor continued his successive reductions. The Emperor ordered some additional provisions to be purchased and paid for out of the produce of the sale of his plate.

The Governor intimated that the allowance of wine should continue fixed at one bottle for each person, the Emperor included. Will it be credited? _One bottle for a mother and her children!_ these were the words used in the note.

The Emperor retired to his own apartment, and sent for me to attend him. “I am not inclined to sleep,” said he, “and I sent for you to help me to keep my vigil; let us have a little chat together.” The turn of the conversation led us to speak of the Island of Elba, of the Emperor’s occupations, sensations, and opinions while he continued there; finally, his return to France, and the brilliant success which attended him, and which, he said, he never for a moment doubted. Many observations were repeated, which I have already noted down at different times. At one moment he said: “They may explain this as they will: but I assure you, I never entertained any direct or personal hatred of those whose power I subverted. To me it was merely a political contest: I was astonished myself to find my heart free from animosity, and, I may add, animated by good will towards my enemies. You saw how I released the Duke d’Angoulême; and I would have done the same by the King, and even have granted him an asylum of his own choosing. The triumph of the cause in no way depended on his person, and I respected his age and his misfortunes. Perhaps also I felt grateful for a certain degree of consideration which he in particular had observed towards me. It is true that, at the moment to which I am now alluding, he had, I believe, outlawed me and set a price upon my head; but I looked upon all this as belonging to the _manifesto style_. The same kind of denunciations were also issued by the Austrian government, without, however, giving me much uneasiness; though I must confess that my dear father-in-law was rather too hard with the husband of his beloved daughter.”

Since I have once more had occasion to mention the Emperor’s return from the Island of Elba, this is, perhaps, the proper place to fulfil the promise I have made of giving a narrative of the circumstances connected with that extraordinary event. I here combine together the statements that fell from him at different times.