Chapter XI: Part 11

The suburb of St. Antoine, that cradle of the revolution, was not forgotten. The Emperor traversed it from one end to the other. He had the doors of all the workshops opened to him, and examined them very minutely. The numerous workmen of the manufactory of M. Lenoir, who retained a grateful remembrance of what the Emperor had done for their master and for themselves, loaded him with expressions of their attachment. The commissary of police of the quarter had followed Napoleon into this manufactory; and, willing to set the example, opened his mouth to its utmost extent, to holla as loud as he could bawl "Long live the Emperor!" but, by a terrible slip of the tongue, a very distinct "Long live the King!" on the contrary issued from it. This caused great confusion: but the Emperor, turning to him, said in a rallying tone: "So, Mr. Commissary, you are determined then not to get rid of your bad habits." This sally was the signal for a general laugh: and the commissary, plucking up his spirits, convinced Napoleon by many a vigorous "Long live the Emperor!" that we never lose any thing by a little patience.

The Emperor was accompanied only by three officers of his household. It was impossible for them to defend him from the approaches and caresses of the people: the women kissed his hands; the men squeezed them, till they made him cry out; both expressed to him in a thousand ways, which I cannot transcribe, the difference they made between him and his predecessor. At all times he had been much beloved by the class of workmen and artisans. He had enriched it: and interest is the prime mover of regard among the people, as well as among the great[100].

[Footnote 100: The reverses of Napoleon's fortune
had been so rapid, that the possessors of great
places, and of great preferment, had not had time
to retrench their way of living. When the Bourbons
were recalled, they were obliged to come to a
reckoning with their means, and all these
extravagant expenses ceased at once.

On the other hand, the new court, in order to
distinguish itself from the imperial court,
substituted the most offensive simplicity for the
useful pomp of Napoleon. The richest emigrants
imitated this pernicious example; and, as Napoleon
remarked, the luxury of the table was almost the
only kind, on which encouragement was not spared.
The result of this economical system was, that the
produce of our manufactories remained unemployed,
and industry was suddenly paralyzed.

Thus commerce, which had loudly called for peace,
was almost totally annihilated by it: and the
manufacturers, the mechanics, the merchants (those
of the sea-ports excepted), greatly regretted those
_happy_ times, when we were at war.

In fact, it must be admitted, that our industry was
indebted to the war, and to our conquests, for its
progress, and its prodigious increase. The war, by
depriving us of the products of the English
manufactories, had taught us, to manufacture for
ourselves. The continual prohibition of these
articles protected our rising manufactures from the
danger of competition; and allowed them to engage
with safety in the trials and expenses necessary
for equalling or surpassing in perfection foreign
manufactures. In all parts of the empire were seen
manufactories for spinning and weaving cotton; and
this branch of trade, almost unknown before,
employed three hundred thousand work people, and
produced goods to the value of more than two
hundred and fifty millions.

The other products of our industry equally received
improvements and extension; and France, in spite of
the conscription, reckoned in its numerous
workshops nearly twelve hundred thousand
workpeople.

If this flourishing state of our continental trade
were the effect of the enlargement of our
territory, and the scope the war had given to our
industry, we must say, that it was also the result
of the succour, encouragement, and honorary
distinctions, which Napoleon knew how to bestow
appropriately on our manufacturers; and the return
for those enormous sacrifices he made, to create,
repair, and keep in order, those superb roads, and
those numerous canals, which rendered the
communications between France, and the countries
subjected to its empire, equally easy, safe, and
pleasant.]

The Emperor received a great number of petitions during his excursions. Unable to read them all, he ordered me, to examine them carefully, and give him an account of them. He loved to repay the confidence that the people reposed in him; and frequently granted to the request of an obscure and unknown citizen, what he would perhaps have refused to the entreaties of a marshal or a minister. The utility of these familiar communications between the nation and the sovereign was not confined, in his eyes, to the solitary interests of the petitioner. He considered them as efficacious means of coming at the knowledge of abuses and acts of injustice, and of keeping the depositaries of authority within the limits of their duty. He was fond of encouraging them, that the phrase, If the Emperor knew it, or The Emperor shall know it, might solace the heart of the oppressed, and make the oppressor tremble.

In former days he had appointed a special commission, to receive petitions, and give them suitable effect. This benefit not appearing to him sufficiently complete, he would have them subjected to a preliminary examination, under his own eye. He decided himself the method to be followed: and directed me, to make known to him every day, without disguise, the complaints, wants, and wishes, of the French people. I made it a point of duty, of honour, to execute this task in a proper manner, and to become the zealous protector of those who had none. Every morning I laid before the Emperor an analytical report of the requests capable of demanding his attention: he examined them with care, made marginal notes on them with his own hand, and sent them to his ministers with a favourable decision, or an order to verify them, and give him an account of the result.

In fine, to fulfil, as much as in him lay, the public expectation, the Emperor made numerous changes in the laws relating to the consolidated taxes (_droits reunis_), which, while they diminished the impost, freed it from its abuses and tyrannical forms, and rendered it less odious, and more supportable. These beneficial meliorations, though incomplete, were received with gratitude; and the Emperor was thanked for his endeavours to reconcile the interests of individuals with the wants of the public treasury.

But the satisfaction Napoleon derived from the happy effects of his solicitude was frequently disturbed by the disquietude and perplexity, which the cabals and manoeuvres of the royalists occasioned him. "The priests and the nobles," said he one day in a fit of ill-humour, "are playing a deep game. If I were to let loose the people upon them, they would all be devoured in the twinkling of an eye[101]."

[Footnote 101: These words, and several others that
I have quoted, prove Napoleon not to have been
ignorant of the use he might make of the people. If
he did not have recourse to them, no doubt it was
because he feared, that the remedy might prove
worse than the disease.]

By a decree of the 25th of March, he had already ordered the ministers of the King, and the civil and military officers of his household, as well as of those of the princes, as also the chiefs of the Chouans, of the Vendeans, and of the royal volunteers, to remove to a distance of thirty leagues from Paris. This prudent precaution was but imperfectly executed. M. Fouche, to secure himself a refuge in the King's party, had sent for the principal of the proscribed persons to his house; expressed to them how much he felt interested for their situation, and the efforts he had made, to prevent their banishment; and finally authorised them pretty generally, to remain at Paris.

The Emperor, not aware that their audacity was owing to the protection of his minister, watched for an opportunity of intimidating them by an act of severity. While things were in this state, a M. de Lascours, a colonel, was arrested at Dunkirk, where he had introduced himself as an emissary from the King. Napoleon, deceived by the similarity of the name, supposed this officer to be the person, who pretended, in 1814, to have received orders, to blow up the powder magazine at Grenelle, and refused to execute them. "I should be sorry," said he, "to sacrifice by way of example a worthy man; but an impostor like this deserves no pity. Write to the minister at war, to have him taken before a military commission, and tried as an instigator to civil war, and to the overturning of the established government."

The Emperor, turning towards me, added: "How is it, that the absurd fable of this man has not been contradicted?"--"Sire," I answered, "Gourgaud has often assured me, that all your officers had publicly avowed their sentiments on it; and that it had been the intention of several generals, and particularly of general Tirlet, to unmask this odious lie to the King; but...." "Enough," said the Emperor, "I make no account of intentions: send the order, and let me hear no more of him."

I lost sight of this business: but I have since learned, that M. de Lascours was acquitted.

If M. de Lascours had been so unfortunate, as to fall a victim to his zeal, the Emperor would have been accused of barbarity; yet he was neither cruel nor sanguinary, for cruelty must not be confounded with severity. I know but one single act, the result of the most fatal counsels, for which, alas! he may be reproached by posterity[102]. Who besides have been the victims of his pretended ferocity? Will the death of Georges, and his obscure accomplices, be considered as a judicial murder? Are the infernal machine and its terrible ravages forgotten? Georges, at the head of the Chouans, was a misled Frenchman, to be pitied, and to be spared. Georges, at the head of a band of assassins, was undeserving of pity, and the cause of morality, as well as of humanity, demanded his punishment.

[Footnote 102: Napoleon, during the hundred days,
entertained for a moment the design of issuing a
demi-official note on the arrest and death of the
Duke of Enghien.

The following memorandums are taken from papers,
from which the note was to have been compiled.

Reports from the police had informed Napoleon, that
there were conspiracies of the royalists beyond the
Rhine, and that they were conducted and supported,

1st, by Messrs. Drake and Spencer Smith, the
English ministers at Stutgard, and at Munich;

2dly, by the Duke d'Enghien and General Dumourier:

The central point of the former was at Offenbourg;
where were some emigrants, some English agents, and
the Baroness de Reich, so noted for her political
intrigues:

The central point of the latter was given out to be
at the castle of Ettenheim, where the Duke
d'Enghien, Dumourier, an English colonel, and
several agents of the Bourbons, resided.

The hundred and twenty thousand francs given by the
minister Drake to the Sieur Rosey, chef de
bataillon, to excite an insurrection,

The declarations of Mehee;

And the reports of M. Sh***, prefect of Strasbourg,
and brother-in-law of the Duke de Fel....; leave no
doubt of the existence of the intrigues at
Offenbourg and Ettenheim, to which M. Sh***
ascribes in particular the agitation, and symptoms
of discontent, that prevail at Weissembourg, and in
several parts of Alsace.

On the other hand, the conspiracy of the 3d of
Nivose had just broken out. The discoveries made by
the servant of Georges, and by other individuals,
led to the belief, that the Duke d'Enghien had been
sent by England to the borders of the Rhine, in
order to place himself at the head of the
insurrection, as soon as Napoleon was made away
with.

The necessity of putting an end to these plots, and
strike terror into their instigators by a grand act
of reprisal, squared in an incredible degree with
the political considerations, that led Napoleon to
attempt a bold stroke, in order to give the
revolution, and the revolutionists, those
guaranties, which circumstances demanded:

Napoleon, named consul for life (I borrow here the
language of the Manuscript from St. Helena), felt
the weakness of his situation, the ridiculousness
of his consulship. It was necessary to establish
something solid, to serve as a support to the
revolution. The republicans were alarmed at the
height, on which circumstances had placed him: they
were suspicious of the use he might make of his
power: they dreaded his renewing an antiquated
royalty by the help of his army. The royalists
fomented this rumour, and took a delight in
representing him as an ape of the ancient monarchs:
other royalists, more adroit, whispered about, that
he was enamoured of the part of Monk, and that he
would take the pains to restore the power, only to
make a present of it to the Bourbons, when it
should be in a proper state to be offered them.

Ordinary minds, unacquainted with his powers,
credited these reports; they sanctioned the tales
of the royalist party, and decried him to the
people, and to the army; for they began to suspect
him, and his attachment to their cause. He could
not allow such an opinion to pass current, because
it tended to unhinge every thing. It was necessary,
at all events, to undeceive France, the royalists,
and Europe at large, in order that they might know,
what they had to reckon upon in him. A persecution
of reports in detail never produces any thing but a
bad effect, for it does not attack the root of the
evil.

The death of the Duke d'Enghien would decide the
question, that agitated France; it would decide the
character of Napoleon beyond return; in fine, it
might intimidate and punish the authors of the
plots incessantly contriving against his life, and
against the state: accordingly he determined on it.

He sent for Marshal Berthier, and this minister
directed General Ord**, by an order which the
Emperor dictated, and which I have _seen_, to set
off post for Strasbourg; to cause General Lev** to
place under his orders fifteen boatmen, three
hundred dragoons from the garrison of Schelstadt,
and thirty gendarmes; to pass the Rhine at Rheinan,
to proceed to Ettenheim, to surround the town, and
_to carry off the Duke d'Enghien, Dumourier, an
English colonel, and all the persons in their
suite_.

The Duke d'Enghien,
General Thumery,
Colonel de Grunstein,
Lieutenant Schmidt,
Abbe Weinburn, and five other inferior persons,
were arrested by a chef d'escadron of the
gendarmerie, named Ch**, who was charged with this
part of the expedition.

Then, and then only, it became certain, that
Dumourier was not at Ettenheim. General Thumery had
been mistaken for him. This mistake, occasioned by
the similarity of their rank, and some likeness of
sound between their names, which the Germans
pronounced nearly alike, had heightened the
importance and criminality of the pretended plots
at Ettenheim in the mind of Napoleon, and had the
most fatal influence on his determination.

The Duke d'Enghien was brought from Strasbourg to
Paris, and carried before a military commission.

The Empress Josephine, the Princess Hortense, fell
at Napoleon's feet in tears, and conjured him to
spare the life of the Duke d'Enghien. Prince
Cambaceres and the Prince of Neufchatel strongly
remonstrated to him on the horrible inutility of
the blow he was about to strike. He appeared to
hesitate, when the information was brought him,
that the prince was no more.

Napoleon had not expected so speedy a catastrophe.
He had even given orders to M. Real, to repair to
Vincennes, to interrogate the Duke d'Enghien: but
his trial and execution had been hastened by Murat;
who, urged by some regicides, at the head of whom
was M. Fou***, thought he should render a service
to Napoleon, to his family, and to France, by
insuring the death of a Bourbon.

The Prince de T***, whom the Emperor often publicly
reproached with having advised the seizure and
death of the Duke d'Enghien, was directed to pacify
the court of Baden, and to justify the violation of
its territory in the eyes of Europe. M. de
Caulincourt being at Strasbourg, the Emperor
thought him more proper than any other person, to
follow up a negotiation, if the turn of affairs
should require it; and he was directed to send to
the minister of Baden the despatch of the Prince de
T***. But there was no need of having recourse to
negotiations: the court, far from complaining of
the violation of its territory, expressed itself
well contented, that the step taken had saved it
the disgrace of consenting, or the embarrassment of
a refusal.

This is an exact and true recital of the
circumstances, that preceded, followed, and
accompanied, the carrying off and death of the last
of the house of Conde.

The seizure of the Duke d'Enghien was long imputed
to M. de Caulincourt, and is still imputed to him
by persons uninformed of the truth.

Some assert, that he arrested him with his own
hands:

Others, that he gave orders for the seizure of his
person: both these imputations are equally false.

He did not arrest the Duke d'Enghien, for his
seizure was executed and consummated by chef
d'escadron Ch***.

Neither directly, nor indirectly, did he give
orders for seizing the prince: for the particular
mission, to carry him off, was confided to General
Ord**, and this general had no orders to receive
from M. de Caulincourt his equal, perhaps even his
inferior.

What made it be supposed, at a time when it was not
possible to explain the facts, that M. de
Caulincourt had been employed to seize the Duke
d'Enghien, or cause him to be seized, was, that M.
de Caulincourt received, at the same moment as
General Ord**, orders to repair to Strasbourg, to
cause the emigrants and English agents, who had
fixed the seat of their intrigues at Offenbourg, to
be carried off. But this mission, for which it
would be requisite to take measures in concert with
General Ord**, and perhaps even to assist him in
case of need; for a simultaneous proceeding was
necessary, that one expedition might not cause the
failure of the other; this mission, I say, though
analogous to that of General Ord**, had no real
connexion with it.

Their objects were different:

That of one was to carry off the Duke d'Enghien
from Ettenheim;

That of the other, to seize the conspirators at
Offenbourg, which was eight or ten leagues distant.

Perhaps it will be objected, that M. de Caulincourt
was not ignorant of General Ord**'s being directed,
to seize the Duke d'Enghien. Be it so: I cannot
perceive the consequence, attempted to be drawn
from this. But what I have _seen_ in the cabinet,
and what I attest, is, that the order given to M.
de Caulincourt said nothing of Ettenheim, and that
the name of the Duke d'Enghien was not even
mentioned in it: it related solely, in the first
place, to the construction of a flotilla, that was
preparing on the Rhine; and, secondly, to the
expedition of Offenbourg; an expedition that
terminated, as no doubt is still remembered, in the
laughable flight of the minister Drake and his
agents.

I have thought it my duty as a Frenchman and an
historian, to enter into these details, and destroy
for ever an error, which malevolence and the spirit
of party have laid hold of, in order to tarnish the
political life of one of the men, who do the
greatest honour to the imperial government and to
France.

M. de Caulincourt would not have been less
irreproachable, had he committed the fatal seizure
ascribed to him: he would have done his duty, as
General Ord** did his. A soldier is not the judge
of the orders he is to execute. The great Conde,
covered with the laurels of Rocroy, Fribourg,
Norlinguen, and Lenz, was arrested, in spite of the
faith pledged to him, in the apartments of the
King; yet neither his contemporaries, nor
posterity, have charged Marshal d'Albret with this
arrest as a crime.]

Will it be said, that Pichegru was strangled by his orders? The designs of Pichegru were so clearly substantiated, and the laws so clear, that he could not escape the scaffold: why, then, should he cause him to be murdered? The greatest criminals themselves do not commit useless crimes. Were apprehensions entertained of the disclosures he might make?... What could he disclose to the French people? That Napoleon aspired to the throne? Of this no one was ignorant.

A man, that Napoleon had reason to dread, was Moreau: was his life attempted? Yet it was less dangerous, to assassinate him, than to send to a tribunal, where guilt presided, a warrior at that time so dear to France and to the army.

No, Napoleon was not cruel, he was not sanguinary. If he were sometimes inexorable, it was because there are circumstances, in which the monarch must shut his heart to compassion, and leave the law free to act: but, if he knew how to punish, he was also capable of pardoning; and, at the moment when he gave up Georges[103] to the sword of justice, he spared the lives of Messrs. de Polignac and the Marquis de Riviere, whose courage and zeal he respected.

[Footnote 103: I have been assured, that Georges
was three times offered his pardon by Napoleon, if
he would promise, not to engage in any conspiracy
again; and that it was not till after his third
refusal, that his sentence was ordered to be
carried into execution.]

The Emperor did not stop at the rigorous trial, to which he had delivered over the person of M. de Lascours: by a decree, dated the 18th of March, and published the 9th of April, he ordered the condemnation, and the sequestration of the property of

The Prince of Benevento,
The Duke of Ragusa,
The Duke of Alberg,
The Abbe de Montesquiou,
The Count de Jaucourt,
The Count de Bournonville, and
The Sieurs Lynch,
Vitrolles,
Alexis de Noailles,
Bourienne,
Bellard,
La Roche-Jaquelin, and
Sostene de la Rochefoucault[104];

[Footnote 104: Marshal Augereau, Duke de
Castiglione, was also in this list. His name was
struck out at the request of the duchess, and in
consideration of the proclamation, which he
published on the 23d of March.]

All of whom, as members of the provisional government, or agents of the royal party, had concurred in the subversion of the imperial government, previous to the abdication of Napoleon.

This decree, though supposed to have originated at Lyons, first saw the light at Paris; and was, as I have just said, the result of the ill humour, into which the plots of the royalists had thrown Napoleon. The terms, in which it was originally couched, too clearly attested its source: the first article said; "are declared traitors to their country, and shall be punished as such, &c."

It was I, who wrote this decree, from the dictation of the Emperor. When I had finished it, he ordered me, to go and get it signed by Count Bertrand, who had countersigned the decrees of Lyons. I went to the marshal. He read the decree, and returned it to me, saying: "I will never sign it: this is not what the Emperor promised us; they who advise him, to take such measures, are his bitterest enemies; I will speak to him about it." I related this firm and courageous answer to Napoleon word for word. He ordered me, to return to the grand Marshal, to endeavour to overcome his repugnance, and, if he still persisted, to bring him to him. Count Bertrand instantly followed me, with head erect, into the Emperor's closet. "I am astonished," said Napoleon to him in a dry tone, "that you make such difficulties about it to me. The severity I wish to display is necessary for the good of the state."--"I do not think so, Sire."--"I do, I tell you: and it is my business alone to judge of it. I did not ask your advice, but your signature, which is only a matter of form, and cannot in any way compromise you."--"Sire, a minister, who countersigns the act of a sovereign, is morally responsible for that act; and I should think myself wanting in my duty to your Majesty, and perhaps to myself, if I were weak enough to set my hand to such measures. If your Majesty choose to reign by the laws, you have no right, arbitrarily to pronounce, by a simple decree, sentence of death, and forfeiture of property, against your subjects. If you choose to act as a dictator, and to have no law but your own will, you have no need of the addition of my signature. Your Majesty has declared, by your proclamations, that you would grant a general amnesty. I countersigned them most cordially; and I will not countersign the decree, that revokes them."--"But you well know, I always told you, that I never would pardon Marmont, Talleyrand, and Augereau; and that I promised only to overlook, what had passed since my abdication. I know better than you, what I ought to do, to keep my promises, and ensure the tranquillity of the state. I begun with being indulgent, even to weakness and the royalists, instead of appreciating my moderation, have abused it: they bestir themselves, they conspire, and I ought and will bring them to their senses. I would rather have my blows fall on traitors, than on men who are misled. Besides, all those who are on the list, Augereau excepted, are out of France, or in concealment. I shall not seek for them: my intention is to terrify them more than harm them. You see, therefore," continued the Emperor, softening his voice, "you have not rightly considered the business: sign this for me, my dear Bertrand: you must."--"I cannot, Sire. I request your Majesty's permission, to submit my observations to you in writing."--"All that, my dear sir, will make us lose time: you are startled, I assure you, without any reason; sign, I tell you; I request you, you will do me pleasure."--"Permit me, Sire, to wait, till your Majesty has seen my observations." The marshal went away. This noble resistance did not offend the Emperor: the language of truth and honour never displeased him, when it issued from a pure heart.

General Bertrand delivered to Napoleon a statement of his reasons. It did not alter his resolution; it only determined him, to give it a legal form.

The Emperor, persuaded that General Bertrand would equally retain his opinion, would not have this new decree presented to him, and it appeared without being countersigned.

The effect it produced justified the apprehensions of the grand Marshal. It was considered as an act of despotism and vengeance; as the first infraction of the promises made to the nation. The murmurs of the public were echoed even within the walls of the imperial palace. Labedoyere, at a moment when Napoleon was passing by, said loud enough to be heard, "If the system of proscriptions and sequestrations begin again, all will soon be over."

The Emperor, according to his custom on such occasions, affected to be perfectly satisfied with himself, and appeared no way apprehensive of the storm. Being at table with several personages and ladies of distinction belonging to the court, he asked the Countess Duchatel, if her husband, who was director-general of the domains, had executed the order for sequestrating the estates of Talleyrand and company. "There is no hurry for that," answered she drily. He made no reply, and changed the conversation.

The persons about him are incessantly reproached, with having basely crouched to his will and opinions: this anecdote, and many others that I might relate, prove, that all of them at least did not deserve this reproach. But, supposing it to be just with regard to some, is it as easy, as is commonly thought, to overcome the will of a sovereign?

From pride, and perhaps from a conviction of superiority, Napoleon did not readily endure counsel.

In affairs of state, he imposed upon himself the law of consulting his counsellors, and his ministers. Endowed by nature with the faculty of knowing every thing, or of divining every thing, he almost always took an active part in the discussion: and I must say, to the honour of the Emperor, his ministers, and his counsellors, in common, an inexpressible degree of confidence, frankness, and independence, prevailed in these discussions, highly animated as for the most part they were. The Emperor, far from being shocked when any one contradicted him, endured, nay provoked contradiction and adopted without resistance the advice of his opponents, when he thought it preferable to his own opinion.

When the question concerned those grand decisions, that influence the fate of empires, the case was different. He listened for a certain time to the objections of his ministers: but, when his attention had reached its bounds, he interrupted them, and supported his own opinion with so much fire, force, and perseverance, that he reduced them to silence.

This silence was less the effect of their passive obedience to the intentions of the monarch, than the result of the lessons taught by experience. They had seen, that the most rash, the most incomprehensible, I had almost said the most senseless, enterprises of Napoleon were invariably crowned with success; and they were convinced, that reason could not contend against the inspirations of genius, and the favours of fortune.

In fine, Napoleon often consulted only his own will; and his ministers then knew nothing of his resolves, till they received orders, to carry them into execution.

Such was, and such always will be the situation of ministers, in a monarchy, where the Prince governs for himself; and more especially when this Prince, like Napoleon, owes his throne merely to the ascendancy of his genius and his sword.

Besides, the time of flatterers and flattery was past with Napoleon. Every one was interested in telling him the truth, and no one was sparing of it to him.

The security inspired by this rare and valuable veracity was strengthened by the arrival of Prince Joseph and Prince Lucien. The moderation of the one, and the patriotism of the other, were well known; and the care of maintaining the liberal and pacific intentions of the Emperor was laid on them both.

Prince Lucien had been deeply afflicted in 1814 at the misfortunes of his brother, and was eager to offer him his fortune and his services. This, generous offer did not entirely efface from the heart of Napoleon the remembrance, of their ancient differences, but it softened the asperity of them; and it might be foreseen, that their enmity would not be eternal.

As soon as Prince Lucien heard of the entry of Napoleon into Paris, he wrote him a letter of congratulation. "Your return," said he, "fills up the measure of your military glory. But there is another glory still greater, and above all more desirable, civil glory. The sentiments and intentions, which you have solemnly promulgated, promise France, that you know how to acquire it," &c.

Prince Lucien, however, notwithstanding his desire of revisiting that country, the cause of which he pleaded, did not venture to approach it. But the invasion of the King of Naples having rendered his services necessary to the Sovereign Pontiff, the gratitude he owed to the Holy Father triumphed over his apprehensions. He departed under the title of secretary to the Pope's nuncio, and crossed the Alps without any obstacle. Arrived in the French territory, he wrote to Napoleon, to inform him of his mission, and to ask if his coming to Paris would be agreeable to him. Napoleon's first feeling was that of hesitating to receive him: his second, that of opening to him his arms. The intention of the Prince was to return quickly to Home, whither he was called by the concerns entrusted to him: but the interruption of the communications did not allow this. Obliged to return to Paris, he laid aside his incognito. His return was then publicly announced, and made an advantageous and agreeable impression on every mind.

A few days before, the Emperor had made the acquisition of another personage; less illustrious, it is true, but equally renowned for his patriotism and intelligence: I mean M. Benjamin Constant.

Napoleon, knowing the experience and reputation of this learned civilian, sent for him, to converse with him "on liberty and the constitution." Their conversation continued more than two hours. The Emperor, willing to attach M. Constant to his party, employed all his means of seduction; and I leave it to those Frenchmen, and those foreigners, who have had access to him, to say, whether it were possible to resist him.

When he wished to fix any one in his train, he studied and penetrated with extreme sagacity his way of thinking, his principles, his character, his ruling passions; and then with that familiar grace, that affability, that force and vivacity of expression, which gave so much value and such a charm to his conversations[105], he insinuated himself imperceptibly into your heart, made himself master of your passions, gently excited them, and artfully flattered them: then, displaying at once the magic resources of his genius, he plunged you into intoxication, into admiration, and subdued you so rapidly, so completely, that it seemed the effect of enchantment.

[Footnote 105: These conversations with persons,
whose merit and opinion Napoleon esteemed, were
always pleasing, instructive, interesting, always
marked with strong thoughts, and bold, ingenious,
or sublime expressions. With persons indifferent to
him, or whose nullity he discerned, his phrases,
scarcely begun, were never finished: his ideas
turned only on insignificant, common-place matters,
which, by way of amusing himself, he was apt to
season with biting sarcasm, or jokes more whimsical
than witty.

This explains the contradictions between the
different opinions given of Napoleon's
understanding by foreigners introduced at his
court.]

Thus M. Benjamin Constant was subjugated: he arrived at the Tuileries with repugnance, he quitted the palace an enthusiast.

The next day he was named counsellor of state: and this favour he owed to no base submissions, as his enemies have pretended, but to his learning, and to the desire the Emperor had of giving to public opinion, and to M. B. Constant himself, a pledge of his having forgotten the past; a pledge so much the more meritorious, as the Emperor, independently of the Philippic launched against him by this writer on the 19th of March, had besides before his eyes a letter in his own hand to M. de Blacas, the subject and expressions of which were of a nature, to inspire Napoleon with something more than aversion for its author.

M. de Blacas had left in his boxes a great number of papers. The Emperor directed the Duke of Otranto to examine them. Of this he immediately repented, and sent for them again. Part fell to our share: the rest were delivered to the Duke of Vicenza. Their examination afforded nothing interesting. The Emperor, disappointed, accused M. Fouche of having removed the important papers. Those we inspected consisted only of private reports, and confidential and anonymous notes. The hatred of the revolution pervaded every line, every word. The writers did not dare to propose plainly the revocation of the Charter, and the abolition of the new institutions; but they declared without any circumlocution, that the dynasty of the Bourbons would never be secure with the existing laws; and that it was necessary, to distrust and get rid of the men of the revolution. More effectually to know and persecute these, M. de Blacas had caused to be disinterred from the archives of the cabinet, and of the ministers, the documents that might serve to make known their conduct ever since 1789, and he had directed biographical notices of each to be composed, which might easily have been taken for indictments drawn up by M. Bellart[106].

[Footnote 106: Attorney-general to the king,
employed on certain occasions, to prosecute
political crimes and misdemeanors.]

We found also a number of minutes of laws and ordinances, written by the hand of this minister, and attesting by their laborious corrections, how destitute he was of readiness and of imagination. Frequently he made three or four foul copies, before he could give any consistency or connection to his ideas. His familiar style was dry and turgid: if the style exhibit the man, how I pity M. de Blacas! He took extreme pains to vary, himself, the form of his appointments (_rendez-vous_): and the trouble he gave himself, to say the same thing in several different ways, wonderfully reminded us of the billet-doux of the Bourgeois Gentilhomme: "_Belle Marquise, vos beaux yeux me font mourir d'amour; d'amour mourir me font, belle Marquise, vos beaux yeux[107]._"

[Footnote 107: "Beautiful Marchioness, your
beautiful eyes make me die of love; of love make me
die, beautiful Marchioness, your beautiful eyes."]

In fine, we collected from the cabinet of this minister an ample collection of royal denunciations, petitions, justifications, and confessions, of those men, who, like Lockard, are always "the most humble servants of circumstances."

These humble servants, when the Emperor returned from the island of Elba, did not fail to prostrate themselves before him anew. They assured him, after the example of a certain Marquis well known, that they had denied, insulted, calumniated him, only that they might remain faithful to him, without being suspected by the royal government: they conjured him, to grant them the happiness and glory of serving him; but he disdained their supplications, as he had disdained their insults: they gained nothing but his contempt. Always as devoid of shame as of faith, they were eager, immediately after the fall of Napoleon, to turn round anew, and carry back to the King their faded homage. Some, as M. the Count de M***, whose hands are still reeking with the blood of his assistants (_administres_), contrived, with the help of their lying fidelity, to surprise his easy confidence. Others, as M. F***, became in their writings the virulent persecutors of men, whose lot they had envied, and whose support they had begged. All arrogated to themselves exclusively the title of pure royalists: the title of honest men.... I know them ... the mask, with which they cover themselves, the honours, the dignities, with which they are invested, cannot disguise them to my eyes.... Shall I name them? And the Emperor is accused of despising mankind! ah, where is the sovereign, that can esteem them?

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.