Chapter II: Front Matter (2)

THE EMPEROR INDISPOSED.—ANECDOTES OF THE INTERIOR
OF THE TUILERIES.

26th.—I was informed that the Emperor was very unwell, and that he desired I would attend him. I found him in his chamber, with a handkerchief bound round his head; he was seated in an arm-chair, beside a great fire, which he had ordered to be kindled. “What,” said he, “is the severest disorder, the most acute pain, to which human nature is subject?” I replied, “That the pain of the present moment always appeared to be the most severe.”—“Then it is the tooth-ache,” said he. He had a violent secretion of saliva, and his right cheek was much swelled and inflamed. I was alone in attendance on him, and I alternately warmed a flannel and a napkin, which he kept constantly applied to the part affected, and he said he felt greatly relieved by it. He was also affected by a severe nervous cough, and occasional yawning and shivering, which denoted approaching fever.

“What a miserable thing is man!” said he, “the smallest fibre in his body, assailed by disease, is sufficient to derange his whole system! On the other hand, in spite of all the maladies to which he is subject, it is sometimes necessary to employ the executioner to put an end to him. What a curious machine is this earthly clothing! And, perhaps, I may be confined in it for thirty years longer!”

He attributed his tooth-ache to his late drive, as he had felt singularly affected by being out in the open air. “Nature is always the best counsellor,” said he; “I went out in spite of my inclination, and only in obedience to reason.”

The Doctor arrived, and he found that his patient manifested symptoms of fever. The Emperor spent the remainder of the day in his chamber, occasionally suffering severely from the tooth-ache. At intervals, when the pain abated, he walked up and down, between his armchair and the sofa, and conversed on different subjects.

At one time, he alluded to the base conduct of some of the persons who had been about him, during his power. A family, who were established in the interior of the palace, who had been loaded with benefits, and who, it may be added, behaved most disgracefully at the period of the catastrophe, were one day detected in some offence or other by the Emperor himself. He merely reproached them with their misconduct, instead of punishing them for it. “But what was the consequence?” said he, “this only served to irritate them, without affording a just example. When things are done by halves, they will always prove ineffectual. The fault must not be seen; or if seen, it must be punished,” &c.

He next mentioned a woman, who, together with her husband, held a very lucrative situation, and who was constantly complaining to him of her poverty. “She often wrote to me,” said the Emperor, “to ask for money, as though she had claims upon me; just as Madame Bertrand, or any of you might do, on your return from St. Helena.”

Alluding to a person who had behaved very ill to him in 1814, he said: “Probably you will suppose that he fled on my return? No such thing; on the contrary, I was beset by him. He very coolly acknowledged that he had felt a transient attachment for the Bourbons, for which, however, he assured me he had been severely punished. But this, he said, had served only to revive the natural affection which all so justly entertained for me. I spurned him from me; and I have good reason to believe, that he is now at the feet of the Royal family, relating all sorts of horrors about me. Poor human nature, always and everywhere alike!”

Finally, he mentioned a most infamous intrigue, which was set on foot by persons on whom he had lavished favours. These persons endeavoured to prevail on the Empress Josephine to sign a most degrading letter, under pretence of securing her a tranquil residence in France, but doubtless with the real purpose of gaining credit to themselves in another quarter. The letter, which was to have been addressed to the King, contained a disavowal of all that she had formerly been, and what she still was, together with a request that the King would provide for her as he pleased, &c. The Empress wept, and resisted the importunity, asked for time, and consulted the Emperor Alexander, who told her that such a letter would utterly disgrace her. He advised her to dismiss the meddling intriguers by whom she was surrounded; assured her that there was no intention of removing her from France, or disturbing her quiet in any way; and promised to be responsible for her himself in case of necessity.

In the evening, the Emperor felt better, and he enjoyed a little sleep. His countenance bore evident marks of the severe pain he had suffered.

THE EMPEROR CONTINUES INDISPOSED.—IMMORALITY
THE WORST FAULT IN A SOVEREIGN.

27th.—The Emperor passed the whole day beside the fire, sometimes reclining on his couch, and sometimes sitting in his arm-chair. He still suffered very much from head-ache and tooth-ache, and the secretion of saliva had not diminished. He again had recourse to warm flannel and napkins, by the use of which he had yesterday experienced a little relief. I warmed them, and applied them in the same manner as before. The Emperor appeared very sensible to the attentions I shewed him, and several times laying his hand on my shoulder, he said, “My dear Las Cases, you relieve me very much!” The pain subsided, and he slept for a short time; then, raising his eyes, he said to me, “Have I been long asleep? Are you not very much fatigued?” He called me his _frère hospitalier, the knight hospitaller of St. Helena_. But the pain soon returned with violence, and he sent for the Doctor, who found him feverish. He was seized with the chillness which had attacked him on the preceding day, and which obliged him to keep close to the fire.

He continued in the same state through the whole of the evening. About seven o’clock, he proposed going to bed. He would not eat anything; but he ordered his valet to toast some bread, and he himself made a little toast and water, in which he put some sugar and orange-flower-water.

In the course of the evening’s conversation, the following remarks fell from the Emperor. “Immorality,” said he, “is, beyond doubt, the worst of all faults in a Sovereign; because he introduces it as a fashion among his subjects, by whom it is practised for the sake of pleasing him. It strengthens every vice, blights every virtue, and infects all society like a pestilence: in short, it is the scourge of a nation. Public morality, on the contrary, added he, is the natural compliment of the laws: it is a whole code in itself.” He declared that the Revolution, in spite of all its horrors, had nevertheless been the true cause of the regeneration of morals in France, “as the noblest vegetation is the offspring of the filthiest manure.” He did not hesitate to affirm that his government would mark the memorable epoch of the return to morality. “We advanced at full sail,” said he; “but, doubtless, the catastrophes which have ensued will, in a great measure, turn all back; for, amidst so many vicissitudes and disorders, it is difficult to resist the various temptations that arise, the allurements of intrigue and cupidity, and the suggestions of venality. However, the rising impulse of improvement may be impeded and repressed, but not destroyed. Public morality belongs especially to the dominion of reason and information, of which it is the natural result; and reason and information cannot again retrograde. The scandalous turpitude of former ages, the double adulteries, and libertinism of the Regency, and the profligacy of the succeeding reign, cannot again be revived, unless the circumstances under which they existed should again return; and that is impossible. Before such a change can take place, the upper classes of society must again degenerate into a state of absolute idleness, so as to have no other occupation than licentiousness; the spirit of industry, which now animates and elevates the minds of people in the middle ranks, must be destroyed; and finally, the lower classes must be again plunged into that state of subjection and degradation which once reduced them to the level of mere beasts of burden. Now, all this is henceforth impossible: public morals are, therefore, on the rise; and it may be safely predicted that they will gradually improve all over the world.”

About nine o’clock, after the Emperor had retired to bed, he desired that all his suite might come to his apartment. The Grand Marshal and his lady were among the number. The Emperor conversed with us for half an hour; the curtains being drawn round his bed.

THE EMPEROR STILL UNWELL.—WANT OF MEDICINES.—SERVAN’S
GUERRES D’ITALIE.—MADAME DE MONTESSON.

28th.—When I rose in the morning, I felt ill, and wished to bathe my feet; but no water could be procured for that purpose. I mention this circumstance to afford an idea, if possible, of our real situation at Longwood. Water has always been very scarce here; but there is less now than ever, and we consider ourselves singularly fortunate when we are able to procure a bath for the Emperor. We are no better provided with other things necessary in medical treatment. Yesterday, the Doctor was mentioning, in the Emperor’s presence, drugs, instruments, and remedies of various kinds; but, as he enumerated each article, he added: “Unfortunately, there is none to be procured on the Island.”—“Then,” said the Emperor, “when they sent us hither, they took it for granted that we should be always well?” Indeed we are in want of the veriest trifles and necessaries. As a substitute for a warming-pan, the Emperor has been obliged to have holes bored in one of the large silver dishes, used for keeping the meat warm at table, which is now filled with coals, and used for the purpose of warming his bed.—For some time past, he has very much felt the want of spirits of wine, by means of which, he might have warmed his drink.

The Emperor has continued unwell the whole of the day: his face is still very much swelled, but the pain has somewhat abated. On entering his chamber, I found him sitting by the fire, reading the _Guerres d’Italie_, by Servan. The work suggested to him the idea of some additions to our valuable chapters on Italy. He ordered the map to be brought to him. I was very much surprised to find that the author, in descending to our own times, and narrating the campaigns of the Emperor himself, was exceedingly imperfect in his descriptions, and seemed to be unacquainted with the country about which he wrote. “This,” said the Emperor, “is because he passed on, without observing; and, perhaps he would not have been capable of understanding, even had he observed. But the true spirit of great enterprises and great results consists in the art of divining even without seeing.”

The Emperor found himself obliged to retire to bed as early as he did yesterday. He felt chilly, and seemed to be threatened with another attack of fever; he also felt symptoms of cramp. A little soup was the only nourishment he had taken since yesterday. He complained that his bed was badly made, and that every thing seemed to be wrong; the bed-clothes were not arranged as he wished, and he ordered them to be spread out differently. He remarked that all who surrounded him had calculated on his preserving his health, and that they would certainly be very inexperienced and awkward, should he happen to be attacked with a serious fit of illness.

He ordered some tea to be made of orange-tree leaves, for which he had to wait a considerable time. During the delay, he evinced a degree of patience of which I should certainly have been incapable.

He conversed, when in bed, on the early years of his life which he spent at Brienne, the Duke of Orleans, and Madame de Montesson, whom he recollected having seen. He spoke also of the families of Nogent and Brienne, who were connected with the circumstances of his youth.

“When I was raised to the head of the government,” said Napoleon, “Madame de Montesson applied to me for permission to take the title of Duchess of Orleans, which appeared to me an extremely ridiculous request.” The Emperor had supposed that she was only the mistress of the Prince; but I assured him that she had really been married to the Duke, with the consent of Louis XVI., and that, after the death of her husband, she always signed herself the Duchess Dowager of Orleans. The Emperor said he had been ignorant of that circumstance. “But, at all events,” said he, “what had the First Consul to do with the business? This was always my answer to the persons interested in the case, who were, however, not much satisfied with me. But was it to be expected that I should adopt, immediately, all the irregularities and absurdities of the old school?”

THE EMPEROR STILL INDISPOSED.—CHARACTERISTIC
CIRCUMSTANCES.

29th.—My son was ill, and I was myself by no means well, being still troubled with restlessness during the night. The Doctor came to see us. He informed me that the Emperor was better; but that he was wrong in refusing to take medicine.

The Emperor did not send for me until five o’clock. He still complained of a violent pain in his head. He had his feet in water, and he experienced a little relief from this kind of half bath. He lay down on the sofa, and took up the Memoirs of Noailles, from which he read aloud several passages, concerning the Duke de Vendome, the siege of Lille, and some others relative to the Duke of Berwick; all of which he accompanied by remarks in his own style,—novel, original, and striking. I very much regret that I am unable to record them here; but, as I had not made a fair copy of these latter sheets of my journal, when the manuscript was seized, I have now only the assistance of memoranda, frequently referring to circumstances which time has obliterated from my recollection.

The Emperor, observing on his drawers some confectionary, or sweetmeats, which had been accidentally left there, he desired me to bring them to him; and, seeing that I hesitated, and felt embarrassed, as to how I should present them, he said, “Take them in your hand; there is no need of ceremony or form between us now; we must henceforth be messmates.” Though this is a trifling circumstance, yet, to some, it will develope, more forcibly than volumes of description, the real turn of mind, character, and disposition, of the extraordinary individual to whom it relates: for men of judgment and observation will perceive, and draw conclusions, when others would not even form an idea. This consideration has induced me to insert in these volumes many things which I had originally intended to reject, through the fear that they might be thought insignificant, or, at all events, useless.

I have already mentioned that, in his moments of good-humoured familiarity, the Emperor was accustomed to salute me with all sorts of titles, such as “Good morning, _Monseigneur_. How is _your Excellency_? What says _your Lordship_ to-day?” &c. One evening, when I was going to the drawing-room, the usher was about to open the door for me, when, at the same moment, the door of the Emperor’s apartment also opened: he was going thither too. I stepped aside to let him pass; and he, no doubt in a fit of abstraction, stopped me, and seizing me by the ear, said, playfully: “Well; where is _your Majesty_ going?” But the words had no sooner been uttered, than he immediately let go my ear, and, assuming a grave expression of countenance, he began to talk to me on some serious topic. I had, it is true, learned to close my ears when it was necessary; but the Emperor was evidently sorry for having suffered the expression, _your Majesty_, to escape him. He seemed to think that though other titles might be used in jest, yet the case was very different with the one he had just employed; both on account of its own peculiar nature, and the circumstances in which we were placed. Be this as it may, the reader may form what conjecture he pleases; I merely relate the fact.

After dinner, the Emperor received all his suite in his chamber. He was in bed; and he began to talk of the little faith he placed in the virtue of medicine. He observed that he used to support his opinions on this subject with such strong arguments that Corvisart and other celebrated physicians could but feebly oppose him, and that merely for the sake of maintaining the honour of the profession.

THE EMPEROR’S FIFTH DAY OF CONFINEMENT.—ANECDOTE
OF AN UNPAID BILL.—ON UNPOPULARITY.

30th.—The Emperor was no better to-day; and his periodical attack of fever returned at the usual hour. He was troubled with pimples on his lips and in his mouth, together with a sore throat, so that he felt pain in speaking, and even in swallowing. When the Doctor came in the evening, he brought with him a gargle for the Emperor’s throat: but it was with difficulty we prevailed on him to use it. There is no oil to be procured, fit for the Emperor’s use—it is execrable; and he is very fastidious.

In the course of conversation to-day, the Emperor, in alluding to the extravagance and debts of Josephine, mentioned that he himself, though the most regular man in the world, with respect to money-matters, once got into an unpleasant predicament at Saint-Cloud. “I was riding in my calash,” said he, “along with the Empress, when, amidst an immense crowd of people, I was accosted, in the Eastern style, as a Sultan might be addressed on his way to the mosque, by one of my tradesmen, who demanded a considerable sum of money, the payment of which had been, for a long time, withheld from him. The man’s demand was just,” remarked Napoleon, “and yet I was not to blame. I had paid the money at the proper time: the intermediate agent was solely in fault.”

At another time, when alluding to the unpopularity of which, he said, he had latterly been the object, I expressed my surprise that he had not endeavoured to counteract the libels that were published against him, and to recover popular favour. To this he replied, with an air of inspiration: “I had higher objects in view than to concern myself about flattering and courting a low multitude; a few insignificant coteries and sects. I should have returned victorious from Moscow, and then not only these people, but all France, and all the world, would have admired and blessed me. I might then have withdrawn myself mysteriously from the world, and popular credulity would have revived the fable of Romulus; it would have been said that I had been carried up to heaven, to take my place among the gods.”

About seven o’clock, the Emperor, finding himself very weak, retired to bed. When our dinner was ended, he received us all in his chamber, as he did yesterday; his bed-curtains being drawn. After a little desultory conversation, he took a fancy to have Robinson Crusoe read to him. Each of the gentlemen read a portion by turns, I alone being exempt, on account of my bad eyes. After an hour or two spent in this way, the Emperor took leave of us all, except the youngest of the party (General Gourgaud), whom he detained for the purpose of reading and conversing with him a little longer.

THE EMPEROR VIOLATES THE DOCTOR’S ORDERS.—THE
NAME OF THE GREAT NATION FIRST APPLIED TO
FRANCE BY NAPOLEON.

31st.—Fair weather had now returned: the day was delightful. The Emperor had kept his chamber for six days: and, tired of the monotony of the scene, he determined to disobey the Doctor’s orders. He went out; but he felt himself so extremely weak that he was scarcely able to walk. He ordered the calash, and we took a drive. He was silent and low-spirited, and suffered considerable pain, particularly from the eruption on his lips.

Shortly after his return, he desired me to attend him in his chamber. He felt very weak and drowsy. I prevailed on him to eat a little; and he also took a glass of wine, which, he said, somewhat revived him, and he found himself better. He then entered into conversation.

“As soon as I set foot in Italy,” said he, “I wrought a change in the manners, sentiments, and language, of our Revolution. I did not shoot the emigrants; I protected the priests, and abolished those institutions and festivals which were calculated to disgrace us. In so doing, I was not guided by caprice, but by reason and equity—those two bases of superior policy. For example,” continued he, addressing himself to an individual present, “if the anniversary of the King’s death had always been celebrated, you would never have had an opportunity for rallying.”

The Emperor remarked that he himself was the first who applied to France the name of the _Great Nation_. “And certainly,” said he, “she justified the distinction in the eyes of the prostrate world.” Then, after a short pause, he added: “And she will yet deserve and retain that proud title, if her national character should again rise to a level with her physical advantages and her moral resources.”

On another occasion, speaking of a person to whom he was much attached, he said, “His character resembles that of the _cow_; gentle and placid in all things, except where his children are concerned. If any one meddles with them, his horns are immediately thrust forward, and he may be roused to a pitch of fury.”

Speaking of another, who had passed his thirtieth year, and whom he happened to say was too young, he observed, “And yet, at that age, I had made all my conquests, and I ruled the world. I had laid the revolutionary storm, amalgamated hostile parties, rallied a nation, established a government and an empire; in short, I wanted only the title of Emperor. I have, it must be confessed,” added he, “been the spoiled child of fortune. From my first entrance into life, I was accustomed to exercise command; and circumstances and the force of my own character were such that, as soon as I became possessed of power, I acknowledged no master, and obeyed no laws, except those of my own creating.”

THE EMPEROR’S HEALTH DECLINES VISIBLY.—THE DOCTOR
EXPRESSES ALARM.—FRENCH PRISONERS IN ENGLAND, &C.

Friday, November 1st.—To-day, the weather being very fine, the Emperor went out about two o’clock. After walking a little in the garden, he felt fatigued, and called at Madame Bertrand’s to rest himself. He sat there, upwards of an hour, in an arm-chair, without saying a word, and apparently suffering much from pain and weakness. He then returned languidly to his chamber, where he threw himself on his sofa, and fell into a slumber, as he did on the preceding day. I was very much distressed to observe the state of extreme debility to which he was reduced. He endeavoured to overcome his drowsiness; but he could neither converse nor read. I withdrew, in order that he might take a little rest.

An English frigate arrived from the Cape, on her way to Europe. This circumstance has afforded us an opportunity of writing to our friends. I have, however, denied myself the happiness of doing so; for the repeated complaints of the Governor, together with the consequences with which I was threatened, amount to an absolute prohibition of all correspondence with Europe. Perhaps a more favourable moment may arrive. At all events, I must be patient.

Doctor O’Meara called to see my son, who continued in a very precarious state. He was again bled yesterday, and fainted three or four times in the course of the day.

The Doctor took the opportunity of speaking to me on the subject of the Emperor’s health, and he assured me that he was by no means free from alarm as to the consequences of his confinement. He said that he was continually urging the necessity of exercise; and he begged that I would endeavour to prevail on the Emperor to go out more frequently. It was obvious that an alarming change had taken place in him. The Doctor did not hesitate to affirm that such complete confinement, after a life of activity, would be attended with the worst consequences; since any serious disorder, produced by the nature of the climate, or any accident to which he might be exposed, would infallibly prove fatal to him. These words, and the tone of anxiety in which they were uttered, deeply affected me. From that moment, I observed the sincere interest which the Doctor felt for Napoleon, and of which he has since afforded so many proofs.

The Emperor sent for me about six o’clock. He was taking a bath; and he appeared to be worse than when I had last seen him: this he attributed to going out yesterday. He, however, experienced some benefit from the bath; and he took up Lord Macartney’s Embassy to China, which he continued reading for some time, making various observations as he proceeded.

When he laid aside the book, he began to converse; and the situation of the French prisoners in England was one of the subjects that happened to come under discussion. I will here put together some remarks on this subject that fell from the Emperor on the present and other occasions.

The sudden rupture of the treaty of Amiens, on such false pretences, and with so much bad faith on the part of the English Ministry, greatly irritated the First Consul, who conceived that he had been trifled with. The seizure of several French merchant ships, even before war had been declared, roused his indignation to the utmost. “To my urgent remonstrances,” said the Emperor, “they coolly replied that it was a practice they had always observed; and here they spoke truth. But the time was gone by when France could tamely submit to such injustice and humiliation. I had become the defender of her rights and glory, and I was resolved to let our enemies know with whom they had to deal. Unfortunately, owing to the reciprocal situation of the two countries, I could only avenge one act of violence by another still greater. It was a painful thing to be compelled to make reprisals on innocent men; but I had no alternative.

“On reading the ironical and insolent reply that was returned to my complaints, I, that very night, issued an order for arresting, in every part of France, and in every territory occupied by the French, all Englishmen, of every rank whatever, and detaining them as prisoners, by way of reprisal for the unjust seizure of our ships. Most of these English were men of rank and fortune, who were travelling for their pleasure; but the more extraordinary the measure, the greater the injustice, the better it suited my purpose. A general outcry was raised. The English appealed to me; but I referred them to their own government, on whose conduct alone their fate depended. Several of these individuals proposed raising a subscription to pay for the ships that had been seized, in the hope of thereby obtaining permission to return home. I, however, informed them that I did not want money; but merely to obtain justice and redress for an injury. Could it have been believed that the English Government, as crafty and tenacious with respect to its maritime rights as the Court of Rome is in its religious pretensions, suffered a numerous and distinguished class of Englishmen to be unjustly detained for ten years, rather than authentically renounce for the future an odious system of maritime plunder.

“When I was first raised to the head of the consular government, I had had a misunderstanding with the English Cabinet, on the subject of prisoners of war; but I now carried my point. The Directory had been weak enough to agree to an arrangement extremely injurious to France, and entirely to the advantage of England.

“The English maintained their prisoners in France, and we had to maintain ours in England. We had but few English prisoners; and the French prisoners in England were exceedingly numerous: provisions were to be had almost for nothing in France; and they were exorbitantly dear in England. Thus the English had very trifling expenses to defray; while we, on the other hand, had to send enormous sums into a foreign country; and that at a time when we could but ill afford it. This arrangement, moreover, required an exchange of agents between the respective countries; and the English Commissioner proved to be neither more nor less than a spy on the French Government; he was the go-between and contriver of the plots that were hatched in the interior of France by the emigrants abroad. No sooner was I made acquainted with this state of things, than I erased the abuse by a stroke of the pen. The English Government was informed that, thenceforward, each country must maintain the prisoners it should make, unless an exchange were agreed upon. A terrible outcry was raised, and a threat was held out that the French prisoners should be suffered to die of starvation. I doubted not that the English Ministers were sufficiently obstinate and inhuman to wish to put this threat into execution; but I knew that any cruelty exercised towards the prisoners would be repugnant to the feelings of the nation. The English Government yielded the point. The situation of our unfortunate prisoners was, indeed, neither better nor worse than it had previously been; but, in other respects, we gained great advantages, and got rid of an arrangement which placed us under a sort of yoke and tribute.

“During the whole of the war, I incessantly made proposals for an exchange of prisoners: but to this, the English Government, under some pretence or other, constantly refused to accede, on the supposition that it would be advantageous to me. I have nothing to say against this. In war, policy must take place of feeling; but why exercise unnecessary cruelty? And this is what the English Ministers unquestionably did, when they found the number of prisoners increasing. Then commenced, for our unfortunate countrymen, the odious system of confinement in hulks; a species of torture, which the ancients would have added to the horrors of the infernal regions, had their imaginations been capable of conceiving it. I readily admit that there might be exaggeration on the part of the accusers; but was the truth spoken by those who defended themselves? We know what kind of thing a report to Parliament is. We can form a correct idea of it, when we read the calumnies and falsehoods that are uttered in Parliament, with such cool effrontery, by the base men who have blushed not to become our executioners. Confinement on board hulks is a thing that needs no explanation: the fact speaks for itself. When it is considered that men, unaccustomed to live on shipboard, were crowded together in little unwholesome cabins, too small to afford them room to move; that, by way of indulgence, they were permitted, twice during the twenty-four hours, to breathe pestilential exhalations at ebb tide; and that this misery was prolonged for the space of ten or twelve years;—the blood curdles at such an odious picture of inhumanity! On this point, I blame myself for not having made reprisals. It would have been well had I thrown into similar confinement, not the poor sailors and soldiers, whose complaints would never have been attended to, but all the English nobility and persons of fortune who were then in France. I should have permitted them to maintain free correspondence with their friends and families, and their complaints would soon have assailed the ears of the English Ministers, and checked their odious measures. Certain parties in Paris, who were ever the best allies of the enemy, would, of course, have called me a tiger and a cannibal; but no matter, I should have discharged my duty to the French people, who had made me their protector and defender. In this instance, my decision of character failed me.”

The Emperor asked me whether the French prisoners had been confined in hulks at the time when I was in England. I could not positively inform him; but I replied that I did not think they were, because I knew there were prisons for them in various parts of the country, where many of the English visited them, and purchased the productions of their industry. I added that they were, in all probability, but ill provided for, and exposed to many hardships; for a story used to be told of a government agent having visited one of the prisons on horseback, and no sooner had he alighted from his horse, and turned his back, than the poor animal was seized, cut to pieces, and devoured by the prisoners. I did not, of course, vouch for the fact; but the story was related by the English themselves, and the ignorant and prejudiced class did not regard it as a proof of the extreme misery to which the prisoners must have been reduced, but merely as an example of their terrible voracity. The Emperor laughed, and said he considered the anecdote to be a mere fabrication; observing that, if the fact were to be relied on, it was calculated to make human nature shudder; for, that nothing but hunger, urged to madness, could drive men to such a dreadful extremity. I was the more inclined to believe that the plan of confinement on board the hulks had not been introduced when I was in England, because I recollected that a great deal had been said about establishing the French prisoners in some small islands between England and Ireland. It was proposed to convey them thither, and to leave them to themselves, in a state of complete seclusion; and a few light vessels were to be kept constantly cruising about to guard them. To this plan it was, however, objected that, in case of a descent on the part of the enemy, his grand object would be to land on these islands, distribute arms among the prisoners, and thus recruit an army immediately. Perhaps, added I, this idea might have led to the use of hulks; for the prisoners were rapidly increasing in numbers, and it was not thought safe to keep them on shore among the people, as the latter betrayed a strong disposition to fraternize with the French. “Well,” said Napoleon, “I can very readily conceive that there might be good grounds for rejecting the plan you have just mentioned. Safety and self-preservation before all things. But the confinement in the hulks is a stain on the English character for humanity, an irritating sting, that will never be removed from the hearts of the French prisoners.”

“On the subject of prisoners of war,” continued Napoleon, “the English Ministers invariably acted with their habitual bad faith, and with the Machiavelism that distinguishes the school of the present day. Being absolutely determined to avoid an exchange, which they did not wish to incur the blame of having refused, they invented and multiplied pretences beyond calculation. In the first place, that I should presume to regard as prisoners, persons merely detained, was affirmed to be an atrocious violation of the laws of civilized nations, and a principle which the English Government would never avow, on any consideration whatever. It happened that some of the individuals detained, who were at large on parole, escaped, and were received triumphantly in England. On the other hand, some Frenchmen effected their escape to France. I expressed my disapprobation of their conduct, and proposed that the individuals of either country, who had thus broken their parole, should be mutually sent back again. But I received for answer that persons detained were not to be accounted prisoners; that they had merely availed themselves of the lawful privilege of escaping oppression; that they had done right; and had been received accordingly. After this, I thought myself justified in inducing the French to escape; and the English Ministers filled their journals with the most insolent abuse, declaring me to be a man who scrupled not to violate moral principle, faith, and law.

“When, at length, they determined to treat for an exchange of prisoners, or, perhaps, I ought rather to say, when they took it into their heads to trifle with me on this point, they sent a Commissioner to France. All the great difficulties were waved; and, with a fine parade of sentiment, conditions were proposed for the sake of humanity, &c. They consented to include persons detained in the list of prisoners, and to admit, under that head, the Hanoverian troops, who were my prisoners, but who were at large on parole. This latter point had been a standing obstacle; because, it was insinuated the Hanoverians were not English. Thus far matters had proceeded smoothly, and there was every probability of their being brought to a conclusion. But I knew whom I had to deal with: and I guessed the intentions that were really entertained. There were infinitely more French prisoners in England than English prisoners in France; and I was well aware that, the English being once safely landed at home, some pretence would be found for breaking off the exchange, and the rest of my poor Frenchmen might have remained on board the hulks to all eternity. I declared that I would accede to no partial exchange; that I would be satisfied only with a full and complete one; and, to facilitate matters, I made the following proposal. I admitted that there were fewer English prisoners in France than French prisoners in England; but, I observed, that there were among my prisoners, Spaniards, Portuguese, and other allies of the English, who had been taken under their banners and fighting in the same cause. With this addition, I could on my part produce a far more considerable number of prisoners than there were in England. I therefore offered to surrender up all, in return for all. This proposition, at first, occasioned some embarrassment; it was discussed and rejected. However, as soon as they had devised a scheme, by which they thought they could secure the object they had in view, they acceded to my proposition. But I kept a watchful eye on them: I knew that, if we began by merely exchanging Frenchmen for Englishmen, as soon as the latter should be secured, pretences would be found for breaking off the business, and the old evasions would be resumed; for the English prisoners in France did not amount to one-third of the French in England. To obviate any misunderstanding on either side, I therefore proposed that we should exchange by convoys of only three thousand at a time; that three thousand Frenchmen should be returned to me, and that I would send back one thousand English, and two thousand Hanoverians, Spaniards, Portuguese, and others. Thus, if any misunderstanding arose and put a stop to the exchange, we should still stand in the same relative proportions as before, and without having practised any deception upon each other: but if, on the contrary, the affair should proceed uninterruptedly to a conclusion, I promised to surrender up, gratuitously, all the prisoners that might ultimately remain in my hands. My conjectures respecting the real designs of the English Government proved to be correct: these conditions, which were really so reasonable, and the principle of which had already been adopted, were rejected, and the whole business was broken off. Whether the English Ministers really sympathized in the situation of their countrymen, or whether they were convinced of my firm determination not to be duped, I know not; but it would appear that they were at length inclined to come to a conclusion, when I subsequently introduced the subject by an indirect channel. However, our disasters in Russia at once revived their hopes, and defeated my intentions.”

The Emperor next remarked upon the treatment of prisoners of war in France, which, he said, was as generous and liberal as it possibly could be; and he thought that, on this subject, no nation could justly reproach us. “We have,” said he, “in our favour the testimony and the sentiments of the prisoners themselves; for, with the exception of those who were ardently attached to their local laws, or, in other words, to notions of liberty (and these were exclusively the English and Spaniards), all the rest, namely the Austrians, Prussians, and Russians, were willing to remain with us: they left us with regret, and returned to us with pleasure. This disposition on the part of the Spaniards and English has oftener than once influenced the obstinacy of their efforts or their resistance.”

The Emperor also made the following observation:—“It was my intention to have introduced into Europe a change with respect to the treatment of prisoners. I intended to enrol them in regiments, and to make them labour, under military discipline, at public works and buildings. They should have received whatever money they earned, and would thus have been secured against the misery of absolute idleness and the disorders arising out of it. They should have been well fed and clothed, and have wanted for nothing, without being a burden to the state. All parties would have been benefited by this plan. But my idea did not meet the approval of the Council of State, which, in this instance, was swayed by the mistaken philanthropy that leads to so many errors in the world. It was said that it would be unjust and cruel to compel men to labour. It was feared lest our enemies should make reprisals; and it was affirmed that a prisoner was sufficiently unfortunate in the loss of his liberty, without being placed under restraint as to the employment of his time. But here was the abuse of which I complained, and which I wished to correct. A prisoner, said I, must and should expect to be placed under lawful constraint; and that which I would impose on him is for his own advantage, as well as that of others. I do not require that he should be subject to greater misery or fatigue, but to less danger, than he is exposed to in his present condition. You are afraid lest the enemy should make reprisals, and treat French prisoners in the same manner. Heaven grant it should be so! I wish for nothing better! I should then behold my sailors and soldiers occupied in wholesome labour, in the fields or the public roads, instead of seeing them buried alive on board those odious hulks. They would return home healthy, industrious and inured to labour; and in every country they would leave behind them some compensation for the fatal ravages of war. By way of concession, the Council of State agreed to the organization of a few corps of prisoners as voluntary labourers, or something of the sort; but this was by no means the fulfilment of the scheme I had in view.”

NAPOLEON’S DESIGNS WITH REGARD TO ANTWERP.—HIS REFUSAL TO SURRENDER THAT
CITY ONE OF THE CAUSES OF HIS FALL.—HIS GENEROUS SENTIMENTS IN
REJECTING THE TREATY OF CHATILLON.—MARITIME WORKS.—OFFICIAL REPORT OF
THE STATE OF THE EMPIRE IN 1813.—TOTAL AMOUNT OF EXPENDITURE IN PUBLIC
WORKS, DURING THE REIGN OF NAPOLEON.

2d.—The Emperor did not leave his chamber to-day. When I waited on him, I found him very unwell from the effects of cold; and the secretion of saliva still continued.

I remained with him the greater part of the day. He sometimes endeavoured to converse, and sometimes tried to sleep. He was very restless, and often drew near the fire. He was evidently feverish.

In the course of the day, the conversation turned upon Antwerp; its arsenal, its fortifications, its importance, and the great military and political views he entertained with respect to that favourably situated place.

He remarked that he had done much for Antwerp, but that this was little in comparison with what he had proposed to do. He intended to have rendered it a fatal point of attack to the enemy by sea, and by land to have made it a certain resource, and a point of national security in case of great disasters. He would have rendered Antwerp capable of receiving a whole army in its defeat, and holding out against a close siege for the space of a year, during which time, he said, a nation would be enabled to rally in a mass for its deliverance, and to resume the offensive. Five or six places of this kind were, he added, to constitute the new system of defence, which he intended to have established. The works, which had been completed in so short a time at Antwerp, the numerous dock-yards, magazines, and canals, were already the subject of admiration; but all this the Emperor declared to be nothing. Antwerp was as yet, he said, merely a commercial town; the military town was to be constructed on the opposite bank of the river. For this purpose, ground had been purchased at a low rate, and it was to have been sold again at a high profit for the purpose of building; so that by this speculation, the expenses attending the enterprise would have been considerably diminished. The winter docks would have been capable of admitting three-deckers with all their guns on board; and covered dry docks were to have been constructed for laying up vessels in time of peace.

The Emperor remarked that the scheme he had formed would have rendered Antwerp a stupendous and colossal bulwark; and that it would have been a whole province in itself. Adverting to this superb establishment, he observed, that it had been one of the causes of his exile to St. Helena; that the demand for the cession of Antwerp was one of the circumstances which led him to reject the conditions of peace proposed at Chatillon. If the Allies had agreed to leave him in possession of Antwerp, he would in all probability have concluded peace; and he questioned whether he had not done wrong in refusing to sign the proposed ultimatum. “At that period,” said he, “I had doubtless many resources and chances; but yet, how much may be said in favour of the resolution I adopted! I did right,” added he, “in refusing to sign the ultimatum, and I fully explained my reasons for that refusal; therefore, even here, on this rock, amidst all my misery, I have nothing to repent of. I am aware, that few will understand me; but, in spite of the fatal turn of events, even the common mass of mankind must now be convinced that duty and honour left me no other alternative. If the Allies had thus far succeeded in degrading me, would they have stopped there? Were their offers of peace and reconciliation sincere? I knew them too well to put faith in their professions. Would they not have availed themselves of the immense advantages afforded them by the treaty, to finish by intrigue what they had commenced by force of arms? Then where would have been the safety, independence, and future welfare of France? Where would have been my honour, my vows? Would not the Allies have ruined me in the estimation of the people as effectually as they ruined me on the field of battle? They would have found public opinion too ready to receive the impression which it would have been their aim to give to it! How would France have reproached me for suffering foreigners to parcel out the territory that had been intrusted to my care! How many faults would have been attributed to me by the unjust and the unfortunate! Could the French people, full of the recollections of their glory, have patiently endured the burdens that would inevitably have been imposed on them? Hence would have arisen fresh commotions, anarchy, and desolation! I preferred risking the last chances of battle, determining to abdicate in case of necessity.”[1]

Footnote 1:

These remarks of Napoleon are confirmed by the following:—

_Letter from M. de Caulaincourt, to the Editor of the Constitutionel._
(_Inserted in that Journal on the 21st of January 1820._)

“SIR,—A work by M. Koch, entitled “_Campagne de 1814_,” contains
several fragments of letters written by me to the Emperor and to the
Prince of Neufchâtel, during the sitting of the Congress at Chatillon.

“I think it incumbent on me to declare that this correspondence has
been obtained and published without my knowledge. The high sources
whence the author affirms he has derived his materials confers a
degree of historical importance on his work; and therefore in so far
as I am concerned, I cannot allow myself to sanction, by my silence,
the errors it contains. Most of the details relative to the
negotiations which took place subsequently to the 31st of March, are
incorrect.

“With regard to the Congress of Chatillon, if events have justified
the desire I entertained for the establishment of peace, it would be
wrong to withhold from France and history the motives of national
interest and honour which prevented the Emperor from subscribing to
the conditions which foreigners wished to impose on us.

“I therefore fulfil the first of duties, that of acting justly and
candidly, in developing these motives, by the following extract from
the Emperor’s orders to me.

“_Paris, January 19, 1814._

“.... The point on which the Emperor most urgently insists is the
necessity of France retaining her natural limits: this is my _sine qua
non_. All the powers of Europe, even England, acknowledged these
limits at Frankfort. France, if reduced to her old limits, would not
now possess two thirds of the relative power which she had twenty
years ago. The territory she has acquired in the direction of the
Rhine does not balance what Russia, Prussia, and Austria have acquired
merely by the dismemberment of Poland; all these states have increased
in magnitude. To restore France to her old limits would be to humble
and degrade her. France without the departments of the Rhine, without
Belgium, Ostend, and Antwerp, would be nothing. The plan of limiting
France to her old frontiers is inseparable from the restoration of the
Bourbons; for they alone can offer a guarantee for the maintenance of
such a system. England knows this; with any other government, peace on
such a basis would be impossible, and could not endure. Neither the
Emperor nor the Republic (should revolution again restore it), would
ever subscribe to such a condition. As far as regards his Majesty, his
determination is irrecoverably fixed: he will not leave France less
than he found her. Should the Allies wish to alter the bases that have
been proposed and accepted,—namely, that France should preserve her
natural limits, the Emperor finds only three courses open to him: to
fight and conquer; to fight and perish gloriously; or, finally, if the
nation should not support him, to abdicate. The Emperor attaches but
little importance to sovereignty; he will never purchase it by
degradation.”

“I hope. Sir, that your impartiality will induce you to grant this
letter a place in your Journal, and I take this opportunity of
presenting to you assurances of my respect,” &c.

“CAULAINCOURT,

Duke of Vicenza.”

I acknowledged the justice of the Emperor’s observations. He had lost the throne, it is true, but voluntarily; and, because he chose rather to renounce it than compromise our welfare and his own honour. History will appreciate this sublime sacrifice. Power and life are transitory; but glory endures and is immortal.

“But, after all,” said the Emperor, “the historian will, perhaps, find it difficult to do me justice; the world is so overwhelmed with libels and falsehoods, my actions have been so misrepresented, my character so darkened and misunderstood.” To this, some one present replied that doubt could exist only during his life; that injustice would be confined solely to his contemporaries; that, as he had himself already remarked, the clouds would disperse in proportion as his memory advanced in posterity; that his character would rise daily and become the noblest subject for the pen of history; and that, though the first catastrophe might have proved fatal to his memory, owing to the outcry that was then raised against him, yet the prodigies of his return, the acts of his brief government, and his exile to St. Helena, now left him crowned with glory in the eyes of nations and posterity. “That is very true,” replied the Emperor, with an air of satisfaction, “and my fate may be said to be the very opposite of others. A fall usually has the effect of lowering a man’s character, but, on the contrary, my fall has elevated me prodigiously. Every succeeding day divests me of some portion of my _tyrant’s skin_.”