Chapter XVII: Part 17

During our walk, two strangers approached pretty near to us. The Emperor made some one enquire who they were, and he was informed that they belonged to a vessel which was about to sail to-morrow for Europe. The Emperor asked whether they were likely to see any of the Ministers on their arrival in London; and they replied that they should see Lord Bathurst. “Tell him,” said Napolean, “that his instructions with respect to my treatment here are most odious, and that his agent executes them with scrupulous fidelity. If he wished to get rid of me, he should have despatched me at a blow, instead of thus killing me by inches. This conduct is truly barbarous; there is nothing English in it; and I can only attribute it to some personal hatred. I have too much respect for the Prince Regent, the majority of the Ministers, and the English nation, to suppose that they are responsible for my treatment. Be this as it may, their power extends only to the body; the soul is beyond their reach: it will soar to Heaven even from the dungeon.”

The Emperor, on his return home, took a bath; he was fatigued and harassed by the events of the day. He fell asleep, and I watched beside him, meditating on our new grievances.

At dinner he ate but a little. Some one made an observation, and the Emperor, not having heard it distinctly, asked what had been said—a thing which frequently happens. The words were then repeated in a louder tone, upon which he observed: “I am certainly growing deaf, for I occasionally miss hearing what is said, and I feel inclined to be angry when people speak louder than usual.” He concluded the evening by reading a part of Don Quixote. He was much amused at some comic passages; and, laying down the book, he remarked that we certainly showed a great deal of courage, since we could laugh at such trifles under our present circumstances. He paused for some moments, and seemed deeply wrapped in thought: then rising, he withdrew, saying: “Adieu, my dear friends.”

During dinner, a letter had been delivered to me from the Grand Marshal; but I had kept it concealed, conceiving that it augured no good. I opened it as soon as the Emperor withdrew. It enclosed a letter from the Governor, announcing that if we still persisted in our refusal to sign the declaration, he would immediately give orders for our removal to Europe. We yielded to the dictates of our hearts: to determine on leaving the Emperor was beyond our power; while at the same time it would have been going beyond his wishes, and perhaps too beyond his orders. With unanimous sentiments, we eagerly signed the declarations in the form in which they were presented to us, and delivered them to the English officer on duty at Longwood, together with a letter to the Grand Marshal, acquainting him with what we had done without his participation. We had been guided solely by our feelings, and we trusted that those feelings would afford us consolation, even though the Emperor should disapprove of the step we had taken.

We have now reached the consummation of our absolute slavery and dependence on the will and caprice of Sir Hudson Lowe; not merely by the signature we have just given him, but because he now knows our secret, and therefore it is in his power to compel us to submit to any thing he pleases.

ANECDOTES OF SIEYES.—THE EMPEROR FREQUENTLY ATTENDED POPULAR FESTIVITIES
IN DISGUISE.—HIS VISITS TO THE FAUBOURG SAINT-ANTOINE, AFTER HIS
RETURN FROM MOSCOW AND FROM THE ISLAND OF ELBA.—MANNERS DURING THE
TIME OF THE DIRECTORY.—REMARKABLE OFFICIAL NOTE.

16th.—The Emperor sent for me about noon. He had been reading and was just finishing his coffee. He desired me to sit down, and he entered into conversation. Not a word escaped him that could lead me to suppose he knew the determination we had adopted yesterday evening; he made no allusion to the subject, and it was not mentioned throughout the whole of the day. After breakfast, the Emperor walked about his apartments. The turn of the conversation introduced some anecdotes of former times, of which Sieyes was the subject. The Emperor related that while Sieyes was chaplain to the Princes of Orleans, being one day engaged in performing mass, something unexpectedly occasioned the Princes to withdraw during the service; upon which the Abbé, looking up and seeing only the valets present, immediately closed his book, observing that he was not engaged to perform mass to the rabble.

“Your Majesty,” said I, “was the first who made me acquainted with the name and person of Sieyes. A few days after my presentation at Court, your Majesty, at one of your audiences, having passed by me, stopped to speak to the person who stood next to me, addressing him by name. All my emigrant prejudices were yet in full force and I thought myself polluted by coming in contact with one whom I regarded as an absolute monster, and whom I had never heard mentioned except as an object of the bitterest imprecation.” “Doubtless,” said the Emperor, “you were thinking of the _mort sans phrase_. But I have heard it affirmed that Sieyes denied that.”

I now repeated an anecdote which used to be circulated in the Faubourg Saint-Germain, and on which, the first time I related it, the Emperor made no observation. Sieyes was described as having used the epithet _tyrant_ in speaking of Louis XVI., to which Napoleon was said to have replied, “Monsieur l‘Abbé, if he had been a tyrant, I should not be here, and you would still be performing mass.” “I might have thought so,” said the Emperor, on my relating this anecdote for the second time; “but I should certainly not have been fool enough to say so. This is one of the absurd stories invented in the drawing-rooms of Paris. I never committed blunders of that kind: my object was to extinguish, and not to feed, the flame. The torrent of hostility was already too forcibly directed against certain leaders of the Revolution. I found it necessary to support and countenance them; and I did so. Some one having procured—God knows where—a bust of Sieyes in his ecclesiastical character, it was publickly exhibited, and occasioned a universal uproar. Sieyes, in a furious passion, set out to make a complaint to me; but I had already given the necessary reprimand, and the bust was again consigned to obscurity.

“My great principle was to guard against re-action, and to bury the past in oblivion. I never condemned any opinion, or proscribed any act. I was surrounded by the men who had voted for the death of Louis XVI.: they were in the Ministry, and in the Council of State. I did not approve of their doctrines; but what had I to do with them? what right had I to constitute myself their judge?” Some had been actuated by conviction, others by weakness and terror, and all by the delirium and fury of the moment. The fatality of the Greek tragedy was exemplified in the life of Louis XVI.”

I told the Emperor that it was reported in the Faubourg Saint-Germain that Sieyes had been detected in a conspiracy against him, in the affair of M. Clement de Ris; and that he (Napoleon) had pardoned him, on condition of his entirely withdrawing himself from any participation in political affairs. “This is another idle story, for which there is not the slightest foundation,” said the Emperor. “Sieyes was always attached to me, and I never had any cause to complain of him. He was probably vexed to find that I opposed his metaphysical ideas; but he was at length convinced that it was necessary for France to have a ruler, and he preferred me to any other. Sieyes was, after all, an honest and a very clever man: he did much for the Revolution.”

The Emperor mentioned that at one of the first public festivals that took place during the Consulate, as he was viewing the illuminations in company with Sieyes, he asked him what he thought of the state of affairs. Sieyes replied in a cold and even a disheartening tone. “And yet,” resumed Napoleon, “I had this morning very satisfactory proofs of the spirit of the people.”—“It is seldom,” replied Sieyes, “that the people shew their real spirit, when the man who is possessed of power presents himself to their gaze. I can assure you they are far from being satisfied.”—“Then you do not think the present government firmly established?”—“No.”—“And when do you suppose we shall be settled?“—“When I see the Dukes and Marquises of the old court in your ante-chamber.“—“Sieyes,” added the Emperor, “little dreamed that this would so soon be the case. He was short-sighted, and could not see very far before him. I thought, as he did, that all could not end with the Republic; but I foresaw the establishment of the Empire. Accordingly, two or three years afterwards, the circumstance I have just related being still fresh in my recollection, I said to Sieyes, at one of my grand audiences: Well, you are now pell-mell with all the old Dukes and Marquises; do you think all is settled now?”—“Oh, yes,” replied Sieyes, bowing profoundly; “you have wrought miracles, which were never before equalled, and which I never could have foreseen.”

During the Consulate, Napoleon was once standing in front of the Hotel de la Marine, viewing a public illumination. Beside him was a lady, who to all appearance had formerly moved in a distinguished sphere, accompanied by her daughter, a very pretty girl, to whom she was pointing out all the persons of note, as they passed to and fro in the apartments. Calling her daughter’s attention to a certain individual, she said: “Remind me to go and pay my respects to him some day. We ought to do so, for he has rendered us great service.” “But, mother,” replied the young lady, “I did not know that we were expected to shew gratitude to such people. I thought they were too happy in being able to oblige persons of our quality.” “Certainly,” said the Emperor, “La Bruyere would have turned this incident to good account.”

Napoleon sometimes went out in disguise early in the morning, traversing the streets of the capital alone, and mingling with the labouring classes of the people, with whose condition and sentiments he wished to make himself acquainted. In the Council of State I have often heard him advise the Prefect of Police to adopt this plan. He called it the _Caliph system of police_, and said he esteemed it to be the best.

On his return from the disastrous campaigns of Moscow and Leipsic, Napoleon, in order to maintain the appearance of confidence, frequently appeared amidst the multitude with scarcely any attendants. He visited the market-places, the faubourgs, and all the populous districts of the capital, conversing familiarly with the people; and he was every where received and treated with respect.

One day, at La Halle, a woman with whom he had been holding a little dialogue, bluntly told him he ought to make peace. “Good woman,” replied the Emperor, “sell your greens, and leave me to settle my affairs. Let every one attend to his own calling.” The bystanders laughed, and applauded him.

On another occasion, at the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, when surrounded by an immense concourse of people, whom he was treating very condescendingly, some one asked whether affairs were really as bad as they were represented to be? “Why, certainly,” replied the Emperor, “I cannot say that things are going on very well.” “But what will be the end of this?” “Heaven knows!” “Will the enemy enter France?” “Very possibly; and he may even march to Paris if you do not assist me. I have not a million of arms. I cannot do all by my own individual efforts.” “We will support you,” exclaimed a number of voices. “Then I shall beat the enemy, and preserve the glory of France.” “But what must we do?” “You must enlist and fight.” “We will,’ said one of the crowd; “but we must make a few conditions!” “What are they?” “We will not pass the frontier.” “You shall not be required to do so.” “We wish to serve in the guards,” said another. “You shall do so.” The air instantly resounded with acclamations. Registers were immediately opened, and two thousand men enlisted in the course of the day. Napoleon returned to the Tuileries; and, as he entered the Place Carousel on horseback, surrounded by the multitude, whose acclamations rent the air, it was supposed that an insurrection had broken out, and the gates were about to be closed.

On his return from the Island of Elba, the Emperor made another visit to the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, where he was received with equal enthusiasm, and conducted back to the palace in a similar manner. As he passed through the Faubourg Saint-Germain, the multitude who escorted him halted before the principal hotels, and manifested their disapprobation by angry words and gestures. The Emperor observed that he had scarcely ever been placed in so delicate a situation. “How many evils might have ensued,” said he, “had a single stone been thrown by the mob. Had a single imprudent word, or even an equivocal look, escaped me, the whole Faubourg might have been destroyed; and I am convinced that its preservation was to be attributed wholly to my presence of mind, and the respect which the multitude entertained for me.”

To-day I attended the Emperor at his toilet. Santini was cutting his hair, and a large tuft fell at my feet. I stooped to pick it up, and the Emperor, observing me, asked what I was doing. I replied that I had dropped something, upon which he smiled and pinched my ear: he guessed what I had picked up.

Speaking of the depravity and corruption of manners which prevailed at the time when he commanded the army of the interior in Paris, Napoleon mentioned that a contractor came to solicit some signatures from him, and to beg that he would give his support to certain appointments and supplies: this he promised to do without hesitation, conceiving that there was nothing unfair in the proposal. Before he withdrew, the contractor dextrously took an opportunity of leaving on the chimney-piece two rouleaux containing a hundred Louis. This was an enormous sum in specie, for at that time paper money was chiefly in use. Fortunately, the General was the first to discover the circumstance, and the visitor was called back before he had gone far. He at first attempted to deny having left the money; but he afterwards acknowledged it, observing that every one must live, and that the method he had adopted was, he believed, the general one. He, however, hoped that he might be forgiven if he had unintentionally done wrong, adding that it was very seldom necessary to ask pardon for such offences.

At the hour at which the Emperor generally takes his walk, he found himself very drowsy; but he was determined to rouse himself, and he went out though the wind was blowing violently. After walking a short distance, he returned to the house, and we entered Madame de Montholon’s apartment. The Emperor had no sooner seated himself on the sofa, than he felt inclined to fall asleep. He rose and proceeded to the drawing-room. He complained of great internal heat, and asked for a glass of toast and water. His drowsiness still continued, and he retired to his chamber to lie down.

About seven o’clock he sent for me, and gave me the following note, which he desired me to keep along with the rest of the official papers. It was the copy of a note which he had sent that morning to the Governor....

_Note._—“I recollect that in a conversation which took place between General Lowe and some of the gentlemen of my suite, (alluding to the conversation of the 15th,) some observations were made respecting my situation, which were not conformable with my ideas. I abdicated to the Representatives of the people and in favour of my son. I proceeded with confidence to England, with the intention of living either there or in America, in profound retirement, and under the name of a Colonel who was killed in battle by my side. _I had resolved to have nothing to do with political affairs of any kind whatever._

“When I went on board the Northumberland, I was informed that I was a prisoner of war, that I was to be transported beyond the Line, and that I was to be called _General Bonaparte_. This obliged me to retain ostensibly the title of the Emperor Napoleon, in opposition to the name of General Bonaparte, which was thus to be forced upon me.

“About seven or eight months ago, Count Montholon proposed to obviate the little difficulties that are continually arising, by my adopting an ordinary name. The Admiral thought it necessary to write to London on this subject, and there the matter rested.

“The name which is now applied to me has the advantage of not prejudging the past; but it is not in unison with the forms of society. _I am still disposed to assume a name that may be conformable with custom_; I once more repeat that whenever I may be released from my cruel captivity, _I am still willing to continue a stranger to all political affairs, whatever may take place in the world_. Such is my determination; and no other declaration, on this subject, has my sanction.”

The Emperor ate but little dinner; there was something very extraordinary in the lethargy that had come over him. He had been overpowered by drowsiness during the whole of the day; and yet when he withdrew he said he was afraid he should not sleep, his sensations were so extraordinary. He generally rests soundly when he is inclined to sleep, but he had been dozing all day long without being able to get any rest.

To-day a frigate sailed for Europe.

LOUIS XVI.—MARIE ANTOINETTE.—MADAME CAMPAN.—LEONARD.—THE
PRINCESS DE LAMBALLE.

17th. About noon the Emperor sent for me; he had just finished his breakfast. He was no better than he had been yesterday. He endeavoured to converse a little, and then read in English a few pages of the Vicar of Wakefield. He still complained of drowsiness, and, after several vain efforts to rouse himself, he retired to his chamber to try to get a nap. He was the more astonished that this heaviness should continue, as he said he had slept well during the night.

He did not leave his chamber until dinner was ready, and after dinner he tried to read a little of Don Quixote; but he almost immediately laid down the book, and retired. As it was very early, he sent for me after he had gone to bed, and I remained with him nearly an hour conversing on different subjects.

We spoke of Louis XVI., the Queen, Madame Elizabeth, their martyrdom, &c. He asked me to tell him what I knew of the King and Queen, and what they had said to me on my presentation. The forms and ceremonies of the Court were, I informed him, the same as those which were adopted during the Empire. As to character, I observed, it was generally admitted that the Queen had disappointed public expectation. During the first moments of the revolutionary storm, there was every reason to suppose her to be a woman of great talent and energy; but subsequently these qualities seemed entirely to forsake her. With regard to the King, I mentioned the opinion formed of him by M. Bertrand de Molleville, with whom I had been well acquainted, and who was Minister of Marine to Louis XVI. at the height of the crisis. He pronounced the King to have possessed considerable information, sound judgment, and excellent intentions; but there it all ended. He lost himself by the multiplicity of advice which he solicited, and by his irresolute and wavering mode of following that advice.

The Emperor, in his turn, retraced the portrait of the Queen, by Madame Campan, who, he observed, having been her confidante, and having served her with zeal, affection and fidelity, might be expected to have known a great deal about her, and deserved to be considered as good authority. Madame Campan, he said, had communicated to him many details of the private life of the Queen; and he related some particulars which he had derived from that source.

The Queen, according to Madame Campan, was a fascinating woman, but destitute of talent: she was better calculated to be a votary of pleasure than a participator in affairs of State. She possessed an excellent heart, was parsimonious, rather than extravagant, and by no means possessed strength of character equal to the trying circumstances in which she was placed. She obtained regular information of the schemes that were carrying on abroad; and she never entertained a doubt of her deliverance, even up to the fatal 10th of August, the catastrophe of which was brought about solely by the intrigues and hopes of the Court, which were developed to the world through the imprudence of the King and those who surrounded him.

“On the terrible night of the 5th of October,” said the Emperor, “a person for whom the Queen entertained a high regard, and whom I afterwards treated very ill at Rastadt, hastened to join the Princess at Versailles: whether he had been sent for, or whether he went of his own accord to share her dangers, I know not. It is in these trying moments,” continued the Emperor, “that we feel most in need of the advice and consolation of those who are devoted to us. At the moment of the catastrophe, when the palace was stormed, the Queen fled for refuge to the King’s apartments; but her confident was exposed to the greatest dangers, and only escaped by leaping out of a window.”

I informed the Emperor that the Queen had greatly fallen in the estimation of the emigrants, by her conduct during the events of Varennes; she was reproached for not having allowed the King to set out alone, and for having betrayed a want of skill and energy during the flight of the Royal family. Nothing indeed, could be more ill managed and confused than the journey to Varennes. A curious circumstance connected with that event was, that Leonard, the Queen’s famous _coiffeur_, found means to pass, in his cabriolet, through the midst of the tumult; and he arrived at Coblentz, bringing with him the Marshal’s baton, which, it was said, the King had carried away from the Tuileries, in order to deliver it to M. de Bouillé, when he should join him.

“It was,” said the Emperor, “an established rule with the members of the House of Austria to observe profound silence respecting the Queen of France. Whenever Marie Antoinette was mentioned, they cast down their eyes, and dexterously changed the conversation, as if to avoid a disagreeable and embarrassing subject. This rule,” continued the Emperor, “was adopted by all the members of the family, and recommended to their agents abroad. The efforts lately made by the French Princes in Paris to revive the interest attached to the memory of the unfortunate Queen must certainly have been displeasing to the Court of Vienna.”

The Emperor next asked me some questions concerning the Princess de Lamballe, of whom he said he knew nothing. I was enabled to answer his questions, as I had known the Princess well. One of my cousins had been her lady of honour; and, on my arrival at Aix-la-Chapelle, at the commencement of my emigration, I was received as one of her household, and treated with the utmost kindness.

At Aix-la-Chapelle the Princess de Lamballe had assembled round her many of the wrecks of Versailles: she was surrounded by nobles and persons of fashion, who had been connected with the old Court. She was also visited by many illustrious foreigners; and while I remained with her, I frequently saw Gustavus III., King of Sweden, who went by the name of the Count de Haga; Prince Ferdinand of Prussia, and his children, the eldest of whom (Prince Louis) was killed just before the battle Jena; the duchess of Cumberland, widow of a brother of the King of England, &c.

When Louis XVI. solemnly accepted the Constitution, and thus recomposed the nation, the Princess received an official letter from the Queen, inviting her to return to her situation. She consulted her old friends, who declared themselves of opinion that the Queen was not free, and, conceiving that there would be no safety in Paris, they advised her to take no notice of the Queen’s letter, and to let it be supposed that it had never come to hand. The Princess, however, having asked some other individuals, how they would advise her to act, they unfortunately replied: “Madam, you shared the prosperity of the Queen, and you have now a noble opportunity of proving your fidelity, particularly since you are no longer her favourite.” The Princess possessed lofty sentiments, warm affections, and was of a rather romantic turn of mind. She declared her intention of setting out next day for Paris. The unfortunate lady, therefore, returned to the capital, with a full knowledge of the danger to which she was exposed; and she fell the victim of generosity and noble sentiment. When the Princess determined on proceeding to Paris, my friends proposed that I should accompany her as one of her suite. My youth, together with the circumstance of my being almost a stranger in Paris, would have enabled me to pass unnoticed, and I might perhaps have been serviceable to her; but at the moment of her departure, some difficulties arose which prevented me from accompanying her. However, I became her correspondent; and every other day I transmitted to her the absurd stories of every kind, which served to feed our hopes, and to which we failed not to give implicit credit. I continued my correspondence while we remained in the country; I even continued it after she had ceased to exist!

The extreme affliction in which I was plunged, on hearing of her dreadful fate, was occasionally augmented by the fear that my letters might perhaps have had some share in producing it. I happen to have now in my possession some lines which she wrote a few days before the horrible catastrophe that closed her existence. They are dated _from my dungeon_; for so she called the Pavilion of Flora, which she at that time occupied in the Tuileries.

END OF VOL. III.

ANDOVER: STEREOTYPED AND PRINTED BY B. BENSLEY

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Footnotes

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Transcriber’s Note

Certain conventions of the text have been modified. For instance, a series of dots (....) were employed where a name was elided. These have been replaced with long dashes (———) in order to avoid awkward line breaks.

Given the publication date, spelling has been generally allowed to stand as printed. For instance, the words ‘somnabule’ and ‘somnabulism’, on p. 43, are apparently in error, but are consistent with one another. However, errors deemed most likely to be the printer’s have been corrected, and are noted below.

There were a number of instances in the text where quoted words were missing either an opening or closing quotation mark. The proper placement is not always obvious, but the most plausible choice has been made, based on the context and voice. Among the most challenging is the author’s recounting of Napolean’s recollection of an interchange with the Pope on p. 130.

The issues tabulated below should be noted, along with the resolutions. The references below are to the page and line in the original.

25.25 “In obta[in]ing possession of Illyria Added.
43.25 [somnabule], who, at night runs along the roof _sic_
43.29 on his [somnabulism], _sic_
52.32 The Emperor rema[r]ked Added.
63.15 that adulation w[sa/as] not pushed so far Transposed.
66.35 a suitable match for your Princess.[’] Added.
72.20 [“/‘]You will see me again shortly Replaced.
77.33 while we[re / re]tained possession of it. Moved space.
81.19 [‘]How’, exclaimed he, Added.
90.33 the 13th Vend[e/é]miaire Replaced.
95.38 under which [b/h]e suffers Replaced.
102.5 and altogether useless.[”] Added.
105.18 even when that great E[x/m]press seated on her Replaced.
throne
107.41 unless it was agreeable to me[,/.] Replaced.
108.30 might have incited him in his blindness.[”] Added.
108.31 [“]At the end of this Removed.
116.40 or a pain in my stomach.[’/”] Replaced.
120.7 will be guilty of my destruction[’]” Added.
121.15 she exclaimed, [‘]but a single moment left; Added.
121.24 he published a pamph[l]et Added.
130.16 if it be feasible.’[”] It was, however, Added.
130.26 [“]‘I shall never,’ he remarked, Added.
131.2 whatever I wished.[”] Added.
140.28 [“]Sire,” I answered, Added.
147.17 [‘]Thousand and One Nights’ Added.
151.30 as do all the principles of sound[,] morality. Removed.
154.38 at Lodi, at Castiglione, a[t] Rivoli, at Added.
Arcole
155.32 the[ir/re] existed on this rock Replaced.
155.37 [“]Permission could not be obtained to Added.
subscribe
155.40 In conse[se]quence of the demand Removed
159.6 Those, who, who> fail in respect to Napoleon, Removed.
159.38 said he, [“]is a very happy connexion. Added.
163.11 with the nations situated in their rear.[”] Added.
166.32 [“]My leisure and my old age would have been Removed.
devoted,
168.1 The army marched, with difficulty, over that Added.
tract tract[.]
171.22 supplies the whole of the establis[h]ment with Added.
water
174.17 to some houses of the Franks[,/’] quarter Replaced.
189.36 four[-]and-twenty hours Added.
199.15 only not all at the same[,] time Removed.
230.34 ar[r]angements for the battles of Leipsic Added.
232.31 co[ /a]lesced Powers Restored.
239.28 ra[t]her congratulate yourselves Added.
259.39 when I happene[n]d to be alone with him Removed.
260.35 The Holy League which[ which] had been formed Removed/
against Henry III.
261.15 But these parli[a]ments drew up Added.
214.1 beat 107,000 Russians or Prussians[’] Removed.
219.25 insuring the independ[a/e]nce of France Replaced.
265.30 by the treaty of Camp[i]o-Formio Removed.
267.38 a Burgundy, a Champa[n]gne Removed.
279.26 from the States of the House of Austria[.] Restored.
284.15 in one of the small Versailles[,] diligences Removed.
292.29 as far as Avi[n]gnon, he had heard nothing but Removed.
regret
292.39 he several times called after him.[”/:] Replaced.
294.12 [“]depended on my speed. Added.
294.17 was quitting the Tuileries.[”] Added.
298.19 all public bodies, all classes[,] of the Removed.
citizens
300.36 the safest, and the best[.] Added.
301.41 with expressions of the [f]eelings Added.
302.39 the Bourbons ab[o/a]ndoning a monarchy Replaced.
304.9 ON IMPOS[S]IBILITIES. Added.
305.22 [“]Accordingly,” continued Bertrand, Removed.
312.15 the Mississippi Company[,] Added.
315.13 in a very short time a Mayor of the Palace.[”] Added.
319.13 [“]The Orientals, on the other hand, differ Added.
321.37 [“]On my return from Elba Added.
332.30 _M[âi/aî]tre des Requêtes_ Replaced.
337.1 the[ the] Council of State Removed.
346.22 and I am soon asleep.[”] Removed.
357.26 observed he, [“]of amalgamating all kinds of Added.
merit
371.36 in less than three months[: “]/:”] and so Replaced.
saying,
375.19 th[e/a]n he had when he was merely the Replaced.
Minister
376.34 who had sacrificed his troops to facili[t]ate Added.
the operations
376.39 [D/d]’Antraigues>, finding that all his Replaced.
secrets
383.9 I will remain her[e] alone. Added.
386.1 “I was not aware of that[,]” replied I; Added.
386.27 yet I d[l/i]d not mean to question his right Replaced.
388.21 “Tell him,” said [“]Napoleon, [“]that his Moved.
instructions
390.8 He had bee[d/n] reading Replaced.
399.10 on my arrival at Aix-la[-]Chappelle Restored.
400.5 my friends proposed that I should[a’/ Replaced.
a]ccompany her
400.9 but at [i]the moment of her departure, Removed.