Chapter III: Part 3

At one moment, the Emperor produced a sensible effect upon him; it was when, alluding to the Commissioners, he pointed out the impossibility of receiving them. “After all, Sir,” said he, “you and I are men. I appeal to you, is it possible that the Emperor of Austria, whose daughter I married, who implored that union on his knees, who keeps back my wife and my son, should send me his Commissioner, without a line for myself, without the smallest scrap of a bulletin with respect to my son’s health? Can I receive him with consistency? Can I have any thing to communicate to him? I may say the same thing of the Commissioner sent by Alexander, who gloried in calling himself my friend, with whom, indeed, I carried on political wars, but had no personal quarrel. It is a fine thing to be a Sovereign, but we are not on that account the less entitled to be treated as men; I lay claim to no other character at present! Can they all be destitute of feeling? Be assured, Sir, that when I object to the title of General, I am not offended. I decline it merely because it would be an acknowledgment that I have not been Emperor; and, in this respect, I advocate the honour of others more than my own. I advocate the honour of those with whom I have been, in that rank, connected by treaties, by family and political alliances. The only one of those Commissioners, whom I might perhaps receive, would be that of Louis XVIII., who owes me nothing. That Commissioner was a long time my subject, he acts merely in conformity to circumstances, independent of his option; and I should accordingly receive him to-morrow, were I not apprehensive of the misrepresentations that would take place, and of the false colouring that would be given to the circumstance.”

After dinner, the Emperor again alluded to the time of his Consulate, to the numerous conspiracies which had been formed against him, to the celebrated persons of that period, &c. I have already noticed these topics at considerable length. The conversation lasted until one o’clock in the morning—a very extraordinary hour for us.

THE EMPEROR’S COURT.—EXPENSES, SAVINGS, HUNTING AND SHOOTING
ESTABLISHMENT, MEWS, PAGES, SERVICE OF HONOUR, &C.

26th—28th. Our usual mode of living, an airing in the carriage in the middle of the day; conversation at night.

On the 27th the Emperor received, for a moment, a colonel, a relation of the family of Walsh Serrant, who was on his return from the Cape in the Haycomb, and was to sail next day for Europe. He had been Governor of Bourbon, and entertained us with many agreeable particulars respecting that island.

After dinner, the conversation turned on the old and new Court, with their arrangements, expenses, etiquette, &c. I have already mentioned most of these points in another place, and many of them were repeated on the present occasion. I pass over what would seem but a literal repetition.

The Emperor’s Court was, in every respect, much more magnificent than any thing seen up to that period, and yet, said he, the expense was infinitely less. That vast difference was caused by the suppression of abuses, and by the introduction of order and regularity into the accounts. His hunting and shooting establishment, with the exception of some useless and ridiculous particulars, he observed, as that of falconry and some others, was as splendid, as numerous, and as striking, as that of Louis XVI., and the annual disbursement, he assured us, was but 400,000 francs, while the King’s amounted to seven millions. His table was regulated according to the same system. Duroc had, by his regularity and strictness, done wonders in that respect. Under the kings, the palaces were not kept furnished, and the same articles were transferred from one palace to another; the people belonging to the Court had no furniture allowed them, and every one was obliged to look out for himself. Under him, on the contrary, there was not a person in attendance who did not find himself provided as comfortably, or even more so, with every thing that was necessary or suitable, in the apartment assigned to him, than in his own house.

The Emperor’s stud cost three millions, the expense of the horses was averaged at 3000 francs a horse yearly. A page cost from 6 to 8000 francs. That establishment, he observed, was perhaps the most expensive belonging to the palace, and accordingly the education of the pages and the care taken of them, were the subjects of just encomium. The first families of the empire were solicitous to place their children in it, and they had good reason, said the Emperor.

With respect to the etiquette of the Court, the Emperor said he was the first who had separated the _service of honour_ (an expression invented under him) from that which was absolutely necessary. He had dismissed every thing that was laborious and substantial, and substituted what was nominal and ornamental only. “A king,” he said, “is not to be found in nature, he is the mere creature of civilization. There are no naked kings; they must all be dressed,” &c.

The Emperor remarked that it was impossible for any one to be better informed of the nature and relation of all these matters than himself; because they had been all regulated by him, according to the precedents of past times, from which he had lopped off whatever was ridiculous, and preserved every thing that appeared suitable.

The conversation lasted until after eleven o’clock. It had been kept up with tolerable spirit; and the Emperor again observed, on leaving us, that, after all, we must be a good-natured kind of people to be able to lead so contented a life at St. Helena.

FRESH INSTANCE OF THE GOVERNOR’S MALIGNITY, &c.—DESPERATE PROJECT OF
SANTINI, THE CORSICAN.

29th.—The weather had been bad for some days; the Emperor took advantage of a fine interval to examine a tent, which the admiral had, in a very handsome manner, ordered to be erected for his accommodation by his ship’s crew, having heard him complain, in the course of conversation, of the want of shade, and of the impossibility of enjoying himself in the air out of his apartment. The Emperor conversed with the officer and men who were putting the last hand to the work, and ordered a napoleon to be given to each of the seamen.

We learnt to-day that the last vessel had brought a book on the state of public affairs for the Emperor, written, as it was said, by a Member of Parliament. It had been sent by the author himself, and the following words were inscribed in letters of gold on the outside,—_To Napoleon the Great_. This circumstance induced the Governor to keep back the work, a rigour, on his part, which formed a singular contrast with his eagerness to supply us with libels, that treated the Emperor so disrespectfully.

During dinner, the Emperor, turning, with a stern look, to one of the servants in waiting, exclaimed, to our utter consternation: “So then, assassin, you intended to kill the Governor!—Wretch!—If such a thought ever again enters your head, you will have to do with me; you will see how I shall behave to you.” And then, addressing himself to us, he said, “Gentlemen, it is Santini, there, who determined to kill the Governor. That rascal was about to involve us in a sad embarrassment. I found it necessary to exert all my authority, all my indignation to restrain him.”

In order to explain this extraordinary transaction, it is necessary for me to observe that Santini, who was formerly usher of the Emperor’s cabinet, and whose extreme devotion had prompted him to follow his master and serve him, no matter, he said, in what capacity, was a Corsican, of deep feeling and a warm imagination. Enraged at the Governor’s ill usage, no longer able to bear with patience the affronts which he saw heaped upon the Emperor, exasperated at the decline of his health, and affected himself with a distracting melancholy, he had, for some time, done no work in the house, and, under pretence of procuring some game for the Emperor’s table, his employment seemed to be that of shooting in the neighbourhood. In a moment of confidence, he told his countryman Cypriani that he had formed the project, by the means of his double barrelled piece, of killing the Governor, and then putting an end to himself. And all, said he, to rid the world of a monster.

Cypriani, who knew his countryman’s character, was shocked at his determination, and communicated it to several other servants. They all united in entreating him to lay aside his design, but their efforts, instead of mitigating, seemed but to inflame his irritation. They resolved then to disclose the project to the Emperor, who had him instantly brought before him: “And it was only,” he told me some time afterwards, “by _imperial_, by _pontifical_ authority, that I finally succeeded in making the scoundrel desist altogether from his project. Observe for a moment the fatal consequences which he was about to produce. I should have also passed for the murderer, the assassin, of the Governor, and in reality it would have been very difficult to destroy such an impression in the mind of a great number of people.”

The Emperor read to us La Mort de Pompée, which was stated in the journals to be the subject of general interest at Paris, on account of its political allusions. And this gave rise to the remark that government had been obliged to forbid the representation of Richard, and that, certainly on the fifth and sixth of October, Louis XVI. little thought of its ever being prohibited for its allusions to another. “The fact is that times are wonderfully changed,” said the Emperor.

30th.—The Emperor, after a few turns in the garden, went to General Gourgaud’s apartment, where he was a long time employed, with his compasses and pencil, in laying down the coast of Syria, and the plan of Saint Jean d’Acre, which the general was to execute. In marking some points about Acre, he said:—“I passed many unpleasant moments there.”

In the evening we had Le Mariage de Figaro, which entertained and interested us much more than we had been led to expect. “It was,” observed the Emperor, in shutting the book, “the Revolution already put into action.”

LA HARPE’S MÉLANIE.—NUNS.—CONVENTS.—MONKS
OF LA TRAPPE.—THE FRENCH CLERGY.

31st.—The weather was horrible about three o’clock, and the Emperor could scarcely reach Madame de Montholon’s saloon. He amused himself for some time there in reading the Thousand and One Nights, and afterwards, perceiving a volume of the Moniteur on which M. de Montholon was then employed, and which lay open in the part relative to the negotiations for a maritime armistice in 1800, his whole attention was absorbed by them for upwards of an hour.

After dinner, the Emperor read first La Mère Coupable, in which we felt interested, and next the Mélanie of La Harpe, which he thought wretchedly conceived and very badly executed. “It was,” he said, “a turgid declamation, in perfect conformity with the taste of the times, founded in fashionable calumnies and absurd falsehoods. When La Harpe wrote that piece, a father certainly had not the power of forcing his daughter to take the veil; the laws would never have allowed it. This play, which was performed at the beginning of the Revolution, was indebted for its success solely to the extravagance of public opinion. Now, that the passion is over, it must be deemed a wretched performance! La Harpe’s characters are all unnatural. He should not have attacked defective institutions with defective weapons.”

The Emperor said that La Harpe had so completely failed in his object, with regard to his own impressions, that all his feelings were in favour of the father, while he was shocked at the daughter’s conduct. He had never seen the performance, without being tempted to start from his seat, and call out to the daughter: “You have but to say, No, and we will all take your part; you will find a protector in every citizen.”

He observed that, when he was on service with his regiment, he had often witnessed the ceremony of taking the veil. “It was a ceremony very much attended by the officers, and which raised our indignation, particularly when the victims were handsome. We ran in crowds to it, and our attention was alive to the slightest incident. Had they but said, _No_, we should have carried them off sword in hand. It is consequently false that violence was employed: seductive means only were resorted to. Those, upon whom they were practised, were kept secluded perhaps, like recruits. The fact is that, before they had done, they had to pass the ordeal of the nuns, the abbess, the spiritual director, the bishop, the civil officer, and finally the public spectators. Can it be supposed that all these had agreed to concur in the commission of a crime?”

The Emperor declared that he was an enemy to convents in general, as useless, and productive of degrading inactivity. He allowed, however, in another point of view, that certain reasons might be pleaded in their favour. The best _mezzo termine_, and he had adopted it, was, in his opinion, that of tolerating them, of obliging the members to become useful, and of allowing annual vows only.

The Emperor complained that he had not had time enough to complete his institutions. It had been his intention to enlarge the establishments of Saint Denis and Ecouen, for the purpose of affording an asylum to the widows of soldiers, or women advanced in years. “And then,” he added, “it must also be admitted that there were characters and imaginations of all kinds; that compulsion ought not to be used with regard to persons of an eccentric turn, provided their oddities are harmless, and that an empire, like France, might and ought to have houses for madmen, called _Trappistes_. With respect to the latter,” he observed, “that if any one ever thought of inflicting upon others the discipline which they practised, it would be justly considered a most abominable tyranny, and that it might, notwithstanding, constitute the delight of him who voluntarily exercised it on himself. Such is man, such his whims, or his follies!... He had tolerated the monks of Mount Cenis, but these, at least,” he added, “were useful, very useful, and might be even called heroic.”

The Emperor expressed himself in his Council of State in the following words, when the organization of the University was about to take place: “It is my opinion that the monks would be far the best body for communicating instruction, were it possible to keep them under proper control, and to withdraw them from their dependence upon a foreign master. I am disposed to be favourable to them. I should, perhaps, have had the power to reinstate them in their establishments, but they have made the thing impossible. The moment I do any thing for the clergy, they give me cause to repent it. I do not complain of the old established clergy, for with them I am sufficiently satisfied; but the young priests are brought up in a gloomy fanatical doctrine; there is nothing Gallican in the young clergy.

“I have nothing to say against the old bishops. They have shewn themselves grateful for what I did for religion; they have realized my expectations.

“Cardinal de Boisgelin was a man of sense, a virtuous character, who had faithfully adopted me.

“The Archbishop of Tours, Barral, a man of great acquirements, and who was of essential service to us in our differences with the Pope, was always very much attached to me.

“The worthy Cardinal du Belloy, and the virtuous Bishop Roquelaure, had a sincere affection for me.

“I made no difficulty whatever in placing Bishop Beausset among the Dignitaries of the University, and I am convinced that he was one of those who, in that capacity, most sincerely conducted themselves in conformity with my views.

“All these old bishops possessed my confidence, and none of them deceived me. It is not a little singular that those whom I had the greatest cause to complain of were precisely those whom I had chosen myself; so very true is it that the holy unction, though it attaches us to the kingdom of Heaven, does not deliver us from the infirmities of the earth, from its irregularities, its obscenities, its turpitudes.”

The conversation next turned upon the want of priests in France, the obligation of engaging them at the age of sixteen, and the difficulty, even the impossibility, of finding any at twenty-one.

It was the Emperor’s wish that they should be ordained at a more advanced age. The answer of the bishops and the Pope himself was, “It is very well: your reasons are very just; but if you wait for that period you will find none to ordain, and yet you admit that you are in want of them.”

“I have no doubt,” observed the Emperor, “that, after me, other principles will be adopted. A conscription of priests and nuns will, perhaps, be seen in France, as a military conscription was seen in my time. My barracks will, perhaps, be turned into convents and seminaries. Thus goes the world. Poor nations! In spite of all your knowledge, all your wisdom, you continue, like individuals, the slaves of fashionable caprice.”

It was nearly one o’clock in the morning before the Emperor retired. It was, he said, a real victory over _ennui_, and a great relief for the want of sleep.

MARIA ANTOINETTE.—THE MANNERS OF
VERSAILLES.—ANECDOTE.—BEVERLEY.—DIDEROT’S
PÉRE DE FAMILLE.

August 1.—The weather was dreadful. About three o’clock, the Grand Marshal came to look for me; but as I had at that moment ventured out, I was not to be found. It was on account of some English, whom he had to present to the Emperor.

The Emperor sent for me at five; he was in a bad humour, and not a little so, he said, on my account. The visit of the English, the bad weather, the want of the saloon and an interpreter, had all combined to vex him.

He was reading the Veillées du Château, which, he observed, were tiresome, and he left them for the Tales of Margaret, Queen of Navarre.

He afterwards adverted to Versailles; the Court, the Queen, Madame Campan, and the King, were the principal subjects of his remarks, and he said many things, some of which I have already noticed. He concluded with observing that Louis XVI. would have been a perfect pattern in private life, but that he had been a sorry King; and that the Queen would no doubt have been, at all times, the ornament of every circle, but that her levity, her inconsistencies, and her want of capacity, had not a little contributed to promote and accelerate the catastrophe. She had, he remarked, deranged the manners of Versailles; its ancient gravity and strict etiquette were transformed into the free and easy manners and absolute tittle-tattle of a private party. No man of sense and importance could avoid the jests of the young courtiers, whose natural disposition for raillery was sharpened by the applauses of a young and beautiful Sovereign.

One of the most characteristic anecdotes of that day was told. A gallant and worthy German general arrived at Paris, with a special recommendation to the Queen, from the Emperor Joseph, her brother. The Queen thought she could not do him a greater favour than to invite him to one of her private parties. He found himself, it may be easily imagined, a little out of his element in such company, but it was every one’s wish to treat him with marked respect, and he was obliged to take a leading part in the conversation. He was unfortunate in the selection of his topics, and in his manner of introducing them. He talked a great deal about _his white mare, and his grey mare_, which he valued above all things. The subject gave rise to a number of arch inquiries on the part of the young courtiers, respecting a thousand frivolous points, which he had the good-nature to answer, as if they were matters of importance. In conclusion, one of them asked to which of the two he gave the decided preference: “Really,” answered the general, with peculiar significance, “I must confess, that, if I were in the day of battle on my white mare, I do not believe I should dismount to get on my grey one.” At length he made his bow, and the bursts of laughter that followed may be easily conceived. The conversation took another turn after his departure; the attractions of white and brown beauties were long and ingeniously canvassed, and, the Queen having asked one of the party which he preferred, he instantly assumed a grave air, and imitating the solemn tone of the Austrian, answered, “Really, Madam, I must confess, that if I were in the day of battle on....” “Enough,” interposed the Queen, “spare us the remainder.”

After dinner he read Beverley and the Père de Famille to us. The latter, in particular, excited his animadversion. To us it seemed a paltry production. What most amused the Emperor, as he said, was that it was Diderot’s, that Coryphœus of philosophers and of the Encyclopedia. All it contained was, he said, false and ridiculous. The Emperor entered into a long examination of the details, and concluded with saying, “Why reason with a madman in the height of a raging fever? It is remedies and a decisive mode of treatment that he needs. Who does not know that the only safeguard against love is flight? When Mentor wishes to secure Telemachus, he plunges him into the sea. When Ulysses endeavours to preserve himself from the Syrens, he causes himself to be bound fast, after having stopped the ears of his companions with wax.”

HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE EMIGRATION TO COBLENTZ.—ANECDOTES, &C.

2nd.—Uninterrupted bad weather, with heavy rains. The Emperor was not well; he felt his nerves very much irritated.

He sent for me to breakfast with him. During the whole of breakfast, and a long time afterwards, the conversation again turned on the emigration. I have already remarked that he often brought me back to the subject. His enquiries to-day were directed to the particulars of what had passed at Coblentz, our situation, our disposition, our organization, our views, and our resources, and at the end of all my answers, he concluded, observing: “You have already several times acquainted me with a considerable part of those things, and yet I do not retain them, because you communicate them without regularity. Reduce them to a consistent historical summary. How could you be better employed in this place? And then, my dear Las Cases, you will have a piece ready at hand for your journal.” This demand was like that addressed by Dido to Æneas, and I too might have exclaimed, _Infandum regina, jubes_ ... however, I executed the sketch as completely as my memory and judgment enabled me, for the subject began to grow old, and I was, at that time, very young. I give it as I read it, a short time afterwards, to Napoleon.

“Sire, after the famous events which overthrew the Bastile, and set all France in agitation, most of our Princes, who found themselves implicated in the consequences, fled from the country, with the sole view, at that period, of securing their personal safety. They were soon after joined by persons of considerable rank, and by a number of young men; the former, induced by the connection which they had with them, and the latter by a persuasion that the measure of itself indicated, in some degree, a striking, generous, and decided devotedness. When a certain number were collected, the idea suggested itself of converting to a political end that which, until then, had been produced by zeal and chance alone. It was thought that if, with the assistance of these assemblages, a kind of small power could be created, it might be enabled to re-act, with advantage, on the interior, become a lever to insurrection there, make an impression on the public mind, and restrain popular commotion; while it would be, abroad, a title or pretext for applying to foreign Powers and claiming their attention. This was the origin of the emigration; and it is confidently stated that this grand idea was conceived by M. de Calonne,[3] as he passed through Switzerland, in the suite of one of our Princes, who was on his way from Turin to Germany.

Footnote 3:

Some one who considers himself well informed has assured me that this
is erroneous, as M. de Calonne did not reach Germany till the measure
of emigration had been already decided upon; adding that, so far from
having contrived or instigated it, he had actually censured it.

“The first assemblage took place at Worms, under the Prince de Condé. The most celebrated was that at Coblentz, under the King’s two brothers, one of whom came from Italy, where he had at first found an asylum in the Court of the King of Sardinia, his father-in-law, and the other arrived by way of Brussels, after escaping the crisis, which had made a captive of Louis XVI. at Varennes.

“I was one of the first of those who assembled at Worms. The number about the Prince was scarcely fifty when I arrived. In the entire effervescence of youth, and with the first inspiration of what was noble, I hastened to Worms with the most innocent simplicity of heart. My reading and my prayer each morning consisted of a chapter of Bayard. I expected, on reaching Worms, to be, at the very least, seized and embraced by so many brothers in arms; but, to my great surprise (and it was my first lesson on mankind), instead of this affectionate reception, I and a companion were, all at once, examined and watched, for the purpose of ascertaining that we were not spies. We were afterwards carefully sounded with regard to our interests, our views, and the pretensions by which we might have been actuated, and, finally, great pains were taken to prove to us, and to make the Prince perceive (and this plan was renewed on every fresh arrival), that our numbers increased greatly, and exceeded, no doubt, already, the places and favours which he had to confer. My companion was so shocked that he proposed to me to return instantly to Paris.

“We, who composed the assemblage, in order to make ourselves useful or to acquire importance, undertook, three or four of us by turns, to form a kind of regular guard about the Prince’s person night and day; for we dreamt already of nothing but conspiracies and assassination, so very powerful and redoubtable did we think ourselves, and when relieved, whilst on this kind of voluntary guard, we had the honour of being admitted to the Prince’s table. Three generations of Condé constituted its ornament, a singular circumstance, which was renewed with more striking effect in the army of Condé, in which the grandfather fought in the centre, while the son and grandson commanded the right and left, where they were, I believe, both wounded, and on the same day.

“The Princess of Monaco had followed the Prince of Condé; he married her afterwards, but she then governed and did the honours of his establishment. We had the opportunity of hearing at that table some of the guests assert and re-assert to the Prince that we were already more than enough to enter France; that his name and a white handkerchief were sufficient; that the star of Condé was about to shine forth once more; that the occasion was singularly happy, and that it was necessary to seize it; and I would not pledge myself, that adulation was not pushed so far as to suggest very interested personal views to the Prince.

“Worms, from the nature of its meeting, and the character of its chief, always evinced more regularity, more austerity of discipline, than Coblentz, where there was a display of more agitation, luxury, and pleasure. Worms was accordingly called the _camp_, and Coblentz the _City_ or the _Court_.

“The importance of the leader was in proportion to the force under his command, and of this the Prince of Condé was so sensible that he never saw any one leave him without regret, and remembered it a long time. I was not, on that account, the less eager to go to Coblentz, the moment it acquired a certain degree of splendour. I had relations and friends there, and it was, besides, more attractive, from superior magnificence, activity, and grandeur. Coblentz became in a short time a focus of foreign and domestic intrigues. Two distinct parties might be observed there; Messrs. d’Avaray, de Jaucourt, and some others, were the confidential friends, the advisers, or the ministers, of Monsieur, now Louis XVIII. The Bishop of Arras, the Count de Vaudreuil, and others, were those of Monseigneur, the Count d’Artois; and it was confidently stated that, even then, these Princes manifested distinctly enough the same political differences which, it is pretended, have since characterized them. M. de Breteuil, resident at Brussels, and charged, according to his own declaration, with unlimited powers by Louis XVI., had formed a third party, and added to the complication of our affairs.

“M. de Calonne was relied on for our financial department, and the old Marshal de Broglie and the Marshal de Castries were at the head of our military establishment. The brave and able M. de Bouilly, who had left France after the affair of Varennes, found it impossible to remain with us, and followed King Gustavus III. to Sweden.

“The emigration had, however, assumed a grand character, thanks to the care employed for its propagation. Agents had traversed the provinces, circulars had been distributed in the mansions and country-seats, summoning every gentleman to join the Princes, and act in co-operation with them for the security of the altar and the throne, the revenge of their honour, and the recovery of their rights. An absolute crusade had been preached, and with so much more effect, as it made an impression on minds disposed to attend to it. Among the whole of the nobility and privileged classes there was not a single person who did not feel himself cut to the quick by the decrees of the Assembly. All, from him who filled the highest rank to the lowest country squire, had been deprived of what they held most dear; for the former had lost his title and his vassals, and the latter had seen his turret and his pigeon-house invaded, and his hares shot. Accordingly, the movement to begin the journey was immediate and universal; it could not be abandoned, under the penalty of dishonour, and the women were directed to send spindles to those who hesitated, or were too tardy. Whether then from passion, pusillanimity, or a point of honour, the emigration became a real infection; multitudes rushed furiously beyond the frontiers; and what contributed not a little to increase the evil was the means employed by the leaders of the Revolution to promote it in secret, while they affected to oppose it in public. They declaimed, in vague terms, against it from the tribune, it is true; but they took great care that all the passages should be left open. Did the zeal of the emigrants slacken?—the declaimers became more violent, and it was decided that the barriers should be strictly guarded. Then those who had been left behind were reduced to despair, because they had not taken advantage of the favourable moment. But, accidentally, or from inattention, the barriers were again opened, and they were passed with eagerness by those who were determined not to expose themselves to another disappointment. It was by this dextrous management that the Assembly assisted its enemies in plunging themselves into the abyss.

“The able men of the faction had, from the beginning, conceived that such a measure would deliver them from the heterogeneous parts that checked their progress, and that the property of all these voluntary exiles would secure to them incalculable resources. The officers thought they did wonders in stealing away from their regiments, while the leaders of the Revolution, on their part, excited the soldiers to revolt, in order to force them to it. They got rid, by these means, of enemies who were highly dangerous, and obtained, on the contrary, in the non-commissioned officers, zealous co-operators, who became heroes in the national cause; it was they who furnished great captains, and who beat all the veteran troops of foreign powers.

“The consequence was that Coblentz collected all that was illustrious belonging to the Court in France, and all that was opulent and distinguished belonging to the provinces. We were thousands, consisting of every branch, uniform, and rank of the army; we peopled the town and overran the palace. Our daily assemblages about the persons of the Princes seemed like so many splendid festivals. The Court was most brilliant, and our Princes were so effectually its Sovereigns that the poor Elector was eclipsed and lost in the midst of us, which induced a person to observe to him, very pleasantly, one day, whether from perfect simplicity or keen raillery, that, among all those who thronged his palace, he was the only stranger.

“During the grand solemnities, we occasionally had public galas; and the respectable inhabitants were permitted to take a view of the tables. We then exulted at witnessing the admiration expressed by the people of the country for the pleasing countenance and chivalrous appearance of Monseigneur the Count d’Artois, and we were proud of the homage paid by them to the acquirements and talents of Monsieur. It was worth while to see with what arrogance we paraded with us, as it were, the whole dignity, the lustre of our monarchy, and, above all, the superiority of our Sovereign and the elevation of our Princes. _His Majesty the King_, was the expression which we pompously used in the German circles to designate the King of France; for that was, or ought to be, in our opinion, his title in point of pre-eminence with respect to all Europe. The Abbé Maury, whom we had at first received with acclamation, but who, by the by, lost much of our esteem in a very short time, had discovered, he assured us, that such was his right and his prerogative. Shall I give another instance of overweening pride and conceit?

“At a later period, during our greatest disasters, and when our cause was completely ruined, an Austrian officer, of superior rank, charged with despatches for the Court of London, invited to dinner several of our officers with whom he had formerly been acquainted on the Continent. After dinner, and very near the time when every truth comes out, the company began to talk politics, and he happened to say that, on his departure from Vienna, one of the principal subjects of conversation was the marriage of Madame Royale (now Duchess d’Angouleme) with the Archduke Charles, who at that moment enjoyed great celebrity. ‘But it is impossible!’ observed one of his French guests. ‘And why?’ ‘Because it is not a suitable marriage for Madame.’—‘How!’ exclaimed the Austrian, seriously offended, and almost breathless, ‘His Royal Highness Monseigneur, the Archduke Charles! not a suitable match for your Princess.’ ‘Oh! no, Sir, it would be but a garrison match for her!’

“Besides, these lofty pretensions were instilled into us with our education; they belonged to us as national sentiments, and our Princes were not exempt from them. With us the King’s brothers disdained the title of Royal Highness, they had the pretension of addressing all the sovereigns by the title of brother; the rest of the system was carried on in a proportionate way, and there was accordingly but one feeling in Europe against our Versailles, manners and the presumption of our Princes.

“Gustavus III. said, at Aix-la-Chapelle—‘Your Court of Versailles was not accessible; it indulged too much in haughtiness and ridicule. When I was there, there was scarcely any attention paid to me, and, when I left it, I brought away the titles of _booby_ and _blockhead_.’

“The Duchess of Cumberland, who was married to the King of England’s brother, had to complain, at the same time and in the same city, that the Princess de Lamballe did not grant her the honours of the folding-doors.

“The old Duke of Gloucester complained, on his own account, at a later period in London, of one of our Princes of the blood, and added that the Prince of Wales laughed heartily, because he, the Prince of Wales, addressing the same Prince by the title of Monseigneur, the latter studiously endeavoured to model his language so as not to return the compliment.

“At Coblentz, however, when our circumstances were altered, our Princes condescended to change their manners in that respect, and to let themselves down to the level of the foreign Princes. They were then with the Elector of Treves, a Prince of Saxony, their mother’s brother, whom, by way of parenthesis, we were at that time eating up, and who was afterwards deprived of his possessions on our account. They condescended to call him their _uncle_, and he was allowed to call them his _nephews_. It is confidently stated that he said to them one day, ‘It is to your misfortunes that I am indebted for such affectionate expressions; at Versailles you would have treated me as plain M. l’Abbé, and it is not certain that you would have received my visits every day.’ It was added that he spoke the truth, and that they had given melancholy proofs of it to his brother, the Count of Lusatia, who was present.

“The Princes generally passed their evenings in the company of their intimate friends. One of them was, most of the time, at the house of Madame de Polastron, to whom he paid attentions that were justified by her constancy and her behaviour. Frequent attempts were made to destroy the intimacy, but in vain, for Madame de Polastron was above all the cabals employed for the purpose; and, in addition to her amiable manners and excellent conduct, was completely disinterested, and carefully avoided all interference in political affairs. She saw but very little company. I was indebted to a female relative for the pleasure of being admitted to it; but, as it was necessary to withdraw before the Prince’s arrival, I never had the honour of seeing him there.

“Monsieur passed his evenings at Madame de Balby’s, Dame d’Atours to Madame. Madame de Balby, who was lively, witty, a warm friend and a determined enemy, attracted all the most distinguished characters. It was an honour to be admitted to her house, which was the centre of taste and fashion. Monsieur sometimes remained there until a late hour; and when, after the crowd had slipped away and the circle was contracted, he happened to be communicative, it must be confessed that he was as superior to us by the charms of his conversation as by his rank and dignity.

“So much for our manner of living and our outward appearance at Coblentz; this was the fair side of our situation; but we were less happy in a political point of view—that was the degrading side.”

“Good!” said the Emperor, “I begin to find your drawing-room details too long. This is, however, excusable in you. The subject is a pleasing one to you. You were then young; but go on.”

“Sire, the whole of our number was but a noble and brilliant mob, and presented the image of complete confusion. It was anarchy striving without, to establish, it was said, order within—a real democracy struggling for the re-establishment of its aristocracy. We presented, on a small scale, and merely with a few shades of difference, a copy of every thing that was passing in France. We had among us zealous adherents to our ancient forms, and ardent admirers of novelty; we had our constitutionalists, our intolerants, and our moderates. We had our empirics, who sincerely regretted that they had not made themselves masters of the King’s person, for the purpose of acting with violence in his name, or who frankly avowed that they entertained the design of declaring his incapability. Finally, we had also our Jacobins, who wished, on their return, to kill, to burn, to destroy every thing.

“No direct authority was exercised over the multitude by our Princes.—They were our Sovereigns, it was true, but we were very unruly subjects, and very easily irritated. We murmured on every occasion, and it was particularly against those who joined us last that our common fury was directed. It was, we declared, so much glory and good fortune of which they deprived our exploits and our hopes. Those who were once admitted considered every subsequent arrival too late. It was maintained that all merit on that score was at an end. If all continued to be received in the same way, the whole of France would soon be on our side, and there would no longer be any person to punish.

“Denunciations of every kind, and from every quarter, were then showered down upon those who joined us. A Prince de Saint-Maurice, son of the Prince de Montbarey, found it impossible to resist the storm, although he had the formal support of every distinguished character, and that of the Prince himself, who deigned to employ supplication in his favour, and said, ‘Alas! gentlemen, who is there that has not faults to reproach himself with in the Revolution? I have been guilty of several, and, by your oblivion of them, you have given me the right of interceding for others.’ This did not spare M. de Saint-Maurice the necessity of making his escape as soon as possible. His crime was that of having belonged to the Society of the Friends of the Negroes, and of having been violently attacked in the midst of us by a gentleman of Franche Comté, who denounced M. de Saint-Maurice for having caused his mansions to be burnt. It was, however, discovered, a few days afterwards, that the brawling assailant had no mansion and was neither from Franche Comté, nor a gentleman: he was a mere adventurer.

“M. de Cazalès, who had filled France and Europe with the celebrity of his eloquence and courage in the National Assembly, had, notwithstanding, lost the popular favour at Coblentz. When he arrived at Paris, a report was spread among us that the Princes would not see him, or would give him an ungracious reception. We collected eighty natives of Languedoc to form, in opposition to his own wishes, a kind of escort for him. M. de Cazalès was the honour of our province; we conducted him to the Princes, by whom he was well received.

“A deputy of the third estate, who had highly distinguished himself in the Constituent Assembly by his attachment to royalty, was among us. One of our Princes, addressing him one day in the crowd, said, ‘But, Sir, explain to me then.—You are so worthy a man, how could you, at the time, take the oath of the _jeu de paume_?’ The deputy, struck dumb by the attack, at first stammered out that he had been taken unawares—that he did not foresee the fatal consequences—but promptly recovering himself, he replied with vivacity: ‘I shall, however, observe to Monseigneur that it was not that which led to the ruin of the French monarchy, but in fact the assemblage of the nobility, which joined us in consequence of the very persuasive letter written by Monseigneur.’—‘Stop there,’ exclaimed the Prince, patting him on the stomach, ‘be cool, my dear Sir; I did not intend to vex you by that question.’

“Something like a system of regularity, whether good or bad, was, however, adopted in the course of time. We were classed by corps and by provinces; we had cantonments assigned to us, and were supplied with arms. The King’s body-guards were again formed, clothed, equipped, and paid, and soon became a superb corps in appearance and discipline. The coalition of Auvergne and the marine corps, part on foot and part on horseback, attracted peculiar notice by its discipline, knowledge, and union. Our resignation and self-denial could not be too much admired. Each officer was henceforth but a private soldier, subject to exercises and fatigues, very contrary to his former manner of life, and exposed to the greatest privations, for there was no pay, and many of that number had soon no resource to depend on but the contributions of their more fortunate comrades. We deserved a better fate, or, to speak more correctly, we were worthy of a better enterprize. All the officers belonging to the same regiments had been collected together in separate bodies, in order that they might be ready to take the command of their soldiers, who would not fail to join them, as we thought, on their first seeing them. Such was our delusion! It was from a similar motive that the gentlemen were classed according to their respective provinces, no doubt being entertained of their efficient influence over the mass of the population. Our weakness consisted in the conviction that we continued to be wished for, respected, adored.

“All these bodies were publicly exercised and manœuvred, and the diplomatic remonstrances which were made on the subject were answered with a confident assurance that no such thing existed, or that it certainly should be prevented. We had generals appointed, a staff formed, and every thing which distinguishes head-quarters, even to the office of grand-provost, arranged. Our Princes were gradually surrounded with all that constitutes a real government. They had Ministers for the affairs of the moment, and even for France, when we should return, so certain and near at hand did that time appear.

“M. de Lavilleurnois, who was afterwards so much talked of, on account of the share which he had in a royalist conspiracy, and who died at Sinnamary, in consequence of the events of Fructidor, was intrusted with the Administration of the Police. He set off at an early period to perform its duties clandestinely at Paris. He had conceived a sincere affection for me, and was determined to make me his son-in-law. He made use of the most urgent arguments to induce me to follow him; but I refused: I disliked the nature of his office. Otherwise, what different combinations in my destiny!

“We had also direct relations with almost every Court. The Princes had envoys at them, and received theirs at Coblentz. Monseigneur, the Count d’Artois, visited Vienna, I believe, but I can state with certainty that he was at Pilnitz. The nobility, in a body, addressed a letter to Catherine, from whom we received M. de Romansoff as Ambassador. That Empress saw, with pleasure, the storm that was rising in the south of Europe; she cheerfully fanned a flame, which might prove very favourable to her views, without putting her to any expense, and she accordingly shewed herself ardent in her sentiments, and enthusiastic in her promises. She did not despair, in that crisis, of making a dupe of Gustavus III., whose contiguous activity was troublesome to her; she had prevailed upon him, it is said, to undertake the crusade, by flattering him with the rank of Generalissimo. I do not know if this Prince, who certainly was a very superior character for his time, and possessed a great share of understanding and talent, suffered himself to be deluded by her. It is, however, undeniable that he displayed great attachment to our cause, and announced his wish to fight for it in person. When he left Aix la Chapelle to arrange his ultimate measures for that purpose in Sweden, I heard him say, on taking leave of the Princess de Lamballe: ‘You will see me again shortly, but I am, nevertheless, obliged, on my own account, to adhere to certain proceedings, to certain measures of caution; for the part I have to play is of a very delicate nature. Know that I, who am desirous of returning to fight at the head of your aristocrats in France, am, at home, the first democrat of the country.’

“We also received envoys from Louis XVI., who presented public messages in reprobation of our conduct, and had confidential conferences, perhaps totally different. At least, we acted as if that had been the case; openly declaring that he was a captive, and that we ought to take no notice of any of his orders; that we were bound to take every thing he was compelled to say in a contrary sense, and that, when he exhorted us to peace, he was, in reality, calling upon us to go to war. It is accordingly my opinion that we were very detrimental to the tranquillity of the unfortunate Monarch, and that we had our special share in the pardon which he bequeathed by his will to his friends, who, by an indiscreet zeal, as he observes, did him so much injury.

“Our emigration, however, was prolonged in spite of all the promises which were made to us, and of all the hopes with which our fancy was flattered. With what illusions, what idle tales, what absurdities, was our impatience mocked! whether those who invented them anticipated our disappointment, or were themselves deceived. It was pleasantly calculated that, according to our letters and gazettes, we had, in less than eighteen months, set in motion nearly two millions of men, although we ourselves had seen none of them. But those initiated in the mystery assured us, in special confidence, that these troops marched only by night, for the purpose of more effectually surprising the democrats, or that they passed in the day-time only by platoons and without uniform; or told us some other story of a similar kind. On the other hand, we shewed each other a heap of letters from all countries and the best sources, written in an enigmatical style, and which were thought to be intelligible to us alone. One was acquainted that fifty thousand Bohemian glasses had been just sent off for his country; another was informed that ten thousand pieces of Saxon porcelain would soon be sent off; and a third received intelligence that twenty-five bales of cocoa would be addressed to him, with other fooleries of the same kind.

“How was it possible, I now ask myself, that men of understanding, for there certainly were a great many among the number, that Ministers, who had formerly governed us, and others who were destined to succeed them, should be gulled by such wretched stuff, or that the plain good sense, which we possessed as a multitude, did not make us laugh in their faces? But no; we were not the less convinced that we were near the accomplishment of our hopes; that the moment was at hand; that it would infallibly happen; that we had only to show ourselves; that we were eagerly expected, and that all would fall prostrate at our feet.”

Here the Emperor, who had often interrupted me with laughter and raillery, said, in a very serious tone, “How very faithful is the picture you have drawn! I recognise a crowd of your friends in it. Truly, my dear Las Cases, and I say it without meaning any offence to you, vapouring, credulity, inconsistency, stupidity itself, might be said, in spite of all their wit, to be specially their lot. When I occasionally wished to be amused, and divested myself of all reserve, for the purpose of giving them full scope, and encouraging their confidence in me, I have heard, in the Tuileries, under the Consulate and the Empire, things not less ridiculous than those which you now relate. None of them ever entertained a doubt of any thing. The love of the French for their Kings was centered, they assured me, in my person. I could henceforth do what I pleased; I had a right to use my power; I should never meet with any other obstacle but a handful of incorrigible persons who were the detestation of all. That counter-revolution so much dreaded, observed another, was but child’s play to me; I had effected it with the utmost ease. And (will this be believed?) ‘the only thing wanting to it,’ said he, in an insinuating tone, ‘is the substitution of the ancient white colour for those which have done us so much injury in all countries.’ The idiot! That was the only blot which he could find in our escutcheon. I laughed out of sheer pity, although I felt some difficulty in restraining my feelings; but for his part, his sincerity was unquestionable; he was fully persuaded that he spoke as I thought; and still more so that the generality thought as he did.[4] But go on.”

Footnote 4: